Risen Chapter 29: Swirling Clouds

Roy puffed, his desperate breaths feeling as if they were cutting into his inflamed throat. The High Market was somewhere he was rather unfamiliar with before the day’s start. He had always kept his activities near the Low District, in the hopes - or rather, the certain knowledge - that the Spectral Guard did not keep as close a watch on the poorer district. It hadn’t always felt good, exploiting that fact, but it had felt far better than the alternatives. Act of rebellion or not, he had no desire to actually be caught.

Though, in the end, he had been caught regardless - just not by the Spectral Guard.

As he ran, he couldn’t help but flick his vision towards Markus running alongside him. The strange man matched his pace with an unwavering strength, not bothered in the least by the travel that had left Roy near gasping. Roy could not even hear the man breathe, despite the heavy exertion.

He envied that.

Maybe it was the man’s natural superpowers at work. He had said that he didn’t understand everything that they allowed him to do; it didn’t seem far-fetched that they were the source of the man’s overwhelming solidity. Any other option would be bewildering. Then again, maybe that was just the man himself. It wouldn’t be the first time that Roy had been caught off-guard by the man.

There were just so many things about him that were bewildering. His strange inability to have normal interactions with people crossed with his highbrowed ideals and faith in others. His drive to be a hero and his nature as a Corrupted. That one was particularly strange.

Roy had never taken too much stock in the idea that Corrupted were the source of all evils, like some of the more conservative crowd did. The elderly, especially, seemed to hold onto a great degree of animosity. They blamed them for the collapse of the old world; as far as Roy could tell, there was a degree of justification in that.

Regardless, the Corrupted of then and now were not the same people. They did not commit the same crimes.

Despite that, he knew from his father’s occasional drunken stories that Corrupted did tend to fall into crime - though he wasn’t really one to judge, given his own choices. Still, it was odd to run into a Corrupted that believed so deeply in trying to be a hero, when most of his kind had long soured on the idea. Why be a hero to those who hated you?

In a way, he understood the Gray Woman more than he understood Markus. Not that he approved, but he couldn’t help but feel a slim degree of sympathy towards the woman. After  growing up on stories of Corrupted bogeymen, it might have been easy to believe that it was the only path available.

Yet, it was for that same reason that he admired the strange man that had taken him in.

When he didn’t like the path he was provided, he had made his own. Sure, he had his quirks and his problems. The man wasn’t all there, despite his good intentions. It would have been difficult to miss that. The way that he constantly stared off into space, as if watching something only he could see. The way that he sometimes cocked his head, going quiet as if he were listening to something that only he could hear. The way that he tore apart those thugs in the alley. The way that he had sobbed afterwards, as if the entire world had disappeared in a moment.

No, he wasn’t normal.

Then again, neither was Roy.

Neither was Katrina. Neither was Jack. William was more debatable, but he had his suspicions.

The point was, normal was overrated.

Normal would have been running away from the sounds of fighting. Normal would have been hoping for someone to fight your battles for you. Normal would have been the opposite of what he was doing.

Throwing himself into danger, despite his vulnerability.

No, normal was overrated.

Besides, as strange as it was to think, acting abnormally felt exhilarating.

Minus the running part. That felt rather awful, if he was being honest. Roy puffed, his desperate breaths feeling as if they were cutting into his inflamed throat. His heavy-laden pack, strapped tightly around him, bounced slightly as he ran. Chitin and carapace scraped together with each step, the sound nearly hidden behind the youth’s panting breaths.

Though, of course, whether he could hear them or not mattered very little. He could not forget that they were there. Numerous ties pulled at him with tiny little tugs and nudges, pointing him in the direction of the pack. They weren’t much, but it gave him a measure of comfort, at least.

Bone cracked, the sound pealing out like the striking of thunder from just around the corner. Insects buzzed. Men and women screamed.

They had arrived.

Just before turning the corner, Roy slowed. Though he was willing to put himself into danger when necessary, he wasn’t entirely out of his mind. He quickly worked to undo the straps of his pack, freeing its ties. Chittering and buzzing burst from the newly-created opening, an angry swarm pressing against the leather pack.

Then, they were free.

Roy flew from the pack alongside them, riding the body of the single Unified Risen that he had been able to create for the day. It wasn’t much, but it gave him a slightly greater degree of control over the otherwise mindless swarm.

He nodded to Markus, indicating that he was ready. The man opened his mouth; a bug crawled out. Bile rushed up Roy’s throat, pushed down just before he began to retch. The tiny Risen jumped across the distance between them, alighting upon the youth’s shoulder.

“Go find a place to hide nearby. Remember what Jack said earlier; you are your Risen’s weak point, as you are now,” Markus said. Roy couldn’t find it in him to be offended; he had already been planning to do just that.

As he stepped into the shadows of a nearby alley, Roy’s Unified Risen - a dragonfly, chosen for its excellent sight - soared directly upwards. The rest of the swarm continued on, directed with soft little nudges and commands. Finally, his dragonfly-self was high enough; he could see the battle that was occurring below.

He gave a wordless thanks that he hadn’t chosen to intervene directly.

If he hadn’t already believed Markus’ claims of the dangerous strength that gray dust could provide, a moment’s glance would have changed that. Splinters of bone littered the street, shards of glass scattered among them shimmering in the light of the few lanterns that still remained. A nearby building’s wall was entirely crushed inward, as if struck by the blow of a giant. Other shops had fared slightly better; still, their sidings were defaced with small cracks and furrows, a testament to the fervor of the battle raging around them.

Despite that, the mercenaries had come prepared, forewarned by Markus’ claims of the dangers that awaited them. Swarms of Risen floated in the air, forming tornadoes of black that buzzed angrily back and forth. They spun in furious circles, pushing the battlefield into further disarray. Were it not for his high vantage, Roy suspected that he would have had difficulty seeing anything at all; his vision would have been quivering darkness, briefly interspersed by flashes of color as the scenes behind them were revealed through the gaps in the swarms.

A few of the mercenaries had already arrived to assist, increasing the swarm’s size even further. Markus sprinted through the swirling black cloud, unbothered by the creatures that filled the air around him. A shifting, teeming mass of insects covered his form, held close to his body rather than being released entirely.

Roy directed his own swarm to follow.

I pushed through the clouds of Risen; a thousand legs scrambled over my body, clinging tightly to my clothes. The clouds shifted, revealing a brief glimpse of gray-tinged skin. I fell upon the man before he could react, commanding my Risen to attack.

Enhanced though he was, the man took a moment to react to my presence. Just as I had thought, the gray dust did nothing to improve perception. My act of self-congratulation was short lived.

A gray fist rocketed towards me, blurring as it moved. I couldn’t react in time; it landed. My ribs cracked, the bones snapping easily under the strength of the man’s fist. My feet left the ground, lifted by the blow. My Risen, on the other hand, didn’t care.

They had already left me.

The unfeeling swarm crawled over the gray man. He desperately scratched and scrabbled at himself. I felt a number of them die, smashed against his skin. I mourned the loss; after this, I would be forced to make a trip to Reaper’s Grave to retrieve more.

Still, it was necessary.

The fliers swarmed around the man’s head. They clogged his ears, filled his nose, and poured down his mouth. I stepped back, slipping through the cloud of black that surrounded us.

The man thrashed and coughed; through the gaps in the cloud, I could see him scratching desperately, his eyes wide in terror. Finally, he stopped.

He fell to the ground.

Immediately after, my Risen poured out again. Criminal or not, I only wanted to subdue the man.

“Jack!” I yelled, knowing that the mercenary was somewhere within the clouds of Risen around me. He wasn’t long in coming, pushing through to meet me.

The mercenary wasn’t in good shape. To be fair, I had multiple shattered ribs from just a brief tangle; he had been here much longer.

His left arm was unnaturally bent at the forearm, the bone underneath pressing against the skin. His face was contorted in a grimace as he walked, each step likely sending a powerful lance of pain up his arm. Blood seeped from a wound on his head; it was speckled with the dusting of bone from the nearby buildings.

His throat was swollen beyond recognition, filled with a strange fluid that caused it to ripple with each stride. That, fortunately, wasn’t an injury.

He stepped towards the downed addict, and vomited a stream of gray-blue fluid onto his legs and arms. The liquid immediately began to congeal as it touched the open air, hardening into a cement-like substance that stuck against the man.

Finally, Jack turned towards me, staring with bloodshot, pain-addled eyes.

“You look like shit,” he croaked. My lips quirked.

“You look worse,” I replied. “Feeling alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said quickly. “One of those fuckers got some lucky hits in, is all. There’s a lot more of them than the merchants reported, and I only have a few more minutes left in this [Transfiguration]. We need to move fast.” He turned, stumbling slightly as he pushed back through the cloud.

Behind me, I could hear the captured man begin to struggle against his bindings, roaring in frustration. Hopefully, they would hold; the spit of a Stone-Frog had been the only method we could think of to hold them down on short notice. Fortunately, one of the High Market merchants sold specialty Risen. A bit of cajoling had convinced him to lend a corpse to Jack, for the time being.

I heard another loud crack.

I heard another scream - a woman’s this time.

I ran into the cloud once more.