Guess who's back! This chapter is a bit shorter than some of the recent ones but it needed to happen. I will try to update again soon! Let me know if you see any errors; I'm super open to feedback.
Torn had stared down a lot of people in his life. He'd rarely felt that someone's eyes were boring a hole through his head before, though. Damas was not a man he wanted to be alone with right now.
Finally, the king spoke.
"Commander, do you know what the Precursor Stone is?"
Torn took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
"Yes," he said, "I know what it is. But I don't know who these raiders were or how they found out about it."
"How do you know about the Stone?" Damas asked, still gripping his staff like he was trying to crush it.
"The Shadow was the first person to tell me about it. And then...Ashelin Praxis. Her father's been looking for it for a while now, but I can't say she told me how close he was to finding it. Once I joined the Underground, she wasn't that open with her information anymore."
"Praxis is looking for the Stone."
"Yes."
"What does he plan to do with it?"
"I..." Torn paused, unsure. "I don't know, exactly. I know about the Stone's existence, that it's supposed to be really powerful, but I don't know exactly what it does. The Shadow talked like he knew all about it, but...to be honest, I always felt like it was bigger than us. Not meant for people to have, if that makes any sense. But I did know I didn't want the Baron to get it. Ashelin seemed to think he was going to do something good with it. But I started taking her words with a grain of salt years ago. I think she's...a little out of touch with how far gone things are."
Damas sat down on the steps leading up to his throne, suddenly looking a hundred years old. He gestured for Torn to take a seat next to him.
Quiet hung on them for a long time-Torn wasn't sure how long he sat, listening to Damas' breathing and the trickling of the water through the throne room's fountain. Finally, he heard his companion shifting.
"This is grave news, Commander. If Praxis gets the Stone, then everything is over. The world as we know it will end."
"It can't be that bad."
"It can. The Precursor Stone has the power to destroy everything on the planet, and if I know Praxis, he has no idea what he's dealing with. He'll approach it with blunt force, trying to get it to work for him, and doom us all in doing so."
"So we need to stop him."
"Someone does, yes. But I will not endanger Spargus by revealing its existence to Haven. We are not going to wage a war on the city."
"So what's our plan, then? We can't just sit here!" Torn got up, pacing back in forth in front of Damas. He could feel his teeth grinding and his temples starting to ache as his mind raced, looking for a solution.
"I need to speak with Sig," Damas said. "He can warn the members of your Underground, including perhaps Ashelin herself."
"They need help though, Damas," Torn said. "You don't understand how much of a longshot it is for them to actually get to the Baron before he reaches the Stone. And if they get the Stone, what will they do with it? How will they keep it away from him once they've got it?"
"I need to speak with Sig," Damas repeated. "Then the three of us can discuss options. Sig is more in touch with the situation in Haven right now than either of us are, and we can't make an intelligent decision without him."
Torn grunted in frustration. He felt helpless here, just talking with the king while things happened in Haven that would decide the fate of the entire world.
I should be in Haven. I should be there.
"Torn. I know you want to be there now," Damas said quietly. "But listen to me: sometimes you face your enemy head on, and sometimes... you wait until his weakness is revealed. We must think before we act."
The commander sighed.
"I know you're right," he said. "But there's so much shit to handle right now. Besides the obvious threat of Praxis finding the Stone and the metalheads attacking Haven, there's this group out in the desert. Could Praxis have sent them? I don't think he knows about Spargus."
Damas stilled.
"That is...true. Either he knows about the city, or someone else does, someone who wants the Stone. That does not bode well."
"It couldn't have been the Underground or the Shadow, because I know they don't know about Spargus," Torn said, thinking aloud. "But who else besides Praxis would have that kind of top-level information? Someone on the Council, maybe? Maybe one of them is looking to outmaneuver the Baron?"
Damas scoffed. "I know all about being outmaneuvered by the Council."
"Who else do we know who's been in the Waste...land..." Torn trailed off, suddenly remembering something.
Two years ago
"Final casualty counts are in from the latest Metal Head attack in Dead Town," Ashelin said, laying a piece of paper down on Torn's desk. "34 guardsmen lost."
"Damn. All one unit?"
"Yes. That unit will probably be disbanded at this point, given that less than half of it is left."
"I even feel sorry for the KG up against those bastards," Torn said. "What the hell are we gonna do, Ashe?"
"Don't feel too sorry," a voice rumbled from the other side of the room. It was Kor, sitting down with the kid, a tiny toddler, in his lap. "These metalheads aren't even the most dangerous Haven could be fighting. During my travels in the Deep Wasteland, I saw some of the bigger ones. Awesome creatures."
"But why would he be looking for the Stone?"
"Who?"
"There's this old man, Kor, who says he's traveled the Deep Wasteland...we don't know that much about him. He has a lot of information on the Metal Heads though, and he's high-ranking with the Underground."
"High-ranking? As a Metal Head expert or...?"
"Well, he's old and feeble now, we don't send him on missions or anything. Mostly he watches...he watches the Kid..." Torn trailed off, seeing Damas shoot to his feet.
"What 'kid'?"
Torn looked at Damas, at the amulet around his neck, at Damas again.
"Oh my god. Fuck. Fuck."
Anyone who thought that Damas had passed his prime as a warrior would have reconsidered in that moment. He was across the room before Torn's mind could even move fast enough to realize he should probably put some distance between them.
Now it was too late, and there was a knife at his throat. Behind the knife, Damas' face was murderous.
"Where. Is. He?"