Chapter 63 - Old Fashioned Way

  It doesn’t matter what the hell Gravitas wants. The only thing that prevents Uril’raya from ineffectually shouting his response into the open air is the knowledge that it would only make him look stupid. Of-fucking-course he’s going to make sure Alex is ok. She doesn’t need to tell him to do that. The goat fumes, picking his way along the street.

  Occasionally, Uril stops to help a person to their feet, or slide an insensate figure out of the pathway and lean them against the wall of a building. Even as intent as he is to reach Alex, he can’t ignore the people who need immediate aid, what little he can offer. The trip would normally have barely taken a handful of minutes for someone who knew the city as well as him, but outside the pockets of protection that some had managed, there were just too many signs of damage and too many people who needed a hand.

  Eventually though, enough other people had collected themselves enough to start helping their neighbors too. Uril’s conscience finally relents, allowing him to focus on his own concerns. Stepping out into the middle of the road, Uril kicks off to use intent-movement to cross the distance. But as soon as he attempts to use it, a discordant vertigo sends him stumbling instead. Gulping air and suppressing a full-body shudder, Uril tries to shake off the sensation. “Damnit! The fucking road enchantments are broken!” He curses, kicking at a dislodged piece of the paving stone.

  Uril runs. Hooves clack against the street as he pumps his legs. Thankfully, the middle of the roadway is fairly free of dislodged debris. A few times though, Uril has to scramble over a collapsed wall or leap a crevice in the stone. Far more frequently though, he winces as he spots the remains where a person hadn’t survived. And each time, he fears seeing a familiar shirt and pants.

  The piles of belongings wouldn’t last long. Opportunists and scavengers would pick through it all soon enough. If the finders have any shred of decency they’d at least leave anything truly personal behind. More likely though, it’ll all wind up filtering back through the various pawnshops and discount stores. Even in a ‘civilized’ place like New Europa, why let a perfectly good crisis go to waste?

  Those dark thoughts at least distract Uril from the persistent nagging worry. The courier office is on the other side of the next district, and fretting won’t get Uril there any faster. Another distraction starts to pester Uril’s awareness as his horns start to itch. His Animus had finally begun the process of healing the cracked keratin, filling in the chipped area and sealing the shattered portions. The fact it had taken nearly an hour to start gives Uril a vague idea of just how bad his spirit had been damaged by that blast.

  Animus would heal anything, even being obliterated completely. But the worse the injury, the longer it takes. With Uril’s four, a minor cut usually doesn’t last long enough to even worry about the bleeding. A broken limb would take a day at the most. All told, he hadn’t been that bad off. Still hurts like a bitch though, and the tingling itch from his horns is enough to draw Uril’s attention to the rest of the aches and pains left behind.

  Block by block, Uril takes in the state of the city he calls home. Buildings largely remained intact, thanks to the protective influence from those with far more power than himself. Where that protection didn’t cover, some of the structures had collapsed partially. Walls had caved in, leaving gaping holes into the interiors. Roofs sag or had fallen through, leaving some buildings looking like craters. The city repair crews would probably be conscripting everyone who knows any little bit of earth-shaping or stone-manipulation magic, and even then it would take weeks to sort out all the damage. It would take even longer to get the intricate web of enchantment effects that power the city’s infrastructure back in working order.

  The failed intent-movement had felt like the enchantment was trying to yank his energy out of him, rather than making the skill’s magic more efficient. It was that violation of will that caused the reaction, and left Uril feeling ill. And that was just one example. The city’s plumbing uses enchantments to clean and move water, it’s an enchantment that creates the day and night cycle, there’s an enchantment for the time bell’s ring, enchantments that remove trash and refuse from the streets, and a host of others that operate out of sight. Daily life in New Europa wouldn’t be getting back to normal any time soon.

  But all those observations and thoughts get pushed into the background. At the moment, Uril only has one priority running through his head with lips moving to give a silent voice to it. “Please be ok.”

  By the time Uril makes the last turn and gets within view of the courier depot, his Animus had mostly finished repairing his body. His horns are whole again, the aches and pains of the bruises are gone, and the only lingering issue is his burning legs. Though that part is from him running across the uneven stonework for nearly two miles. It’s the most physical exertion that Uril’raya had subjected himself to since he’d been hired for that ‘marathon’ party.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Slowing to a light trot, Uril approaches the shuttered bay doors of Zephyr Courier Services. The place is closed up tight, but the building appears undamaged. Panting lightly, Uril is about to make his way to the lobby entrance when he hears a caw from above. Looking up, he spots the crow sitting atop a lamppost. “Lord Corvus?” He asks, heart rising into his throat. If Corvus is here, it means Alex is too.

  “Yes, Uril’raya. It is good to see you unharmed.” The crow-demon greets him, then looks out over the city again. “Alex is inside, he will be heartened to see you well.” He continues, answering the question that had been obvious from the goat’s expression.

  Giving a half-intelligible thanks, Uril heads for the door. He’d thought about asking if Alex is ok, but seeing for himself is the only way his worries will be set at ease. Trying the door, it only rattles in the frame. Locked. Uril jerks on the handle a few more times in frustration. Grumbling to himself, he has an urge to just kick the door in. But a better idea prevails, and Uril takes a breath and closes his eyes. Reaching into the mechanism with telekinesis, Uril finds that the tamper-proofing enchantment had failed just like others in the city. It’s a simple matter to slide the bolt free of the latch as he pulls the door open.

  Stepping inside, he finds the lobby vacant. No clerks, no customers, no Alex. But muffled sounds of movement and voices drift through the doorways, and Uril follows the sounds into the ‘employees only’ hallway and through the door into the large bay.

  That’s where Uril discovers where all the people went. Huddling in clusters around the bay, those who had been in the building when the warning came tend to the ones who’ve been injured or knocked out. Conversations are held in low voices, as if being louder would somehow disturb the tenuous sanctuary they’ve all found together.

  Uril scans the clumps of people, and finally he catches sight of a familiar stone hound curled up next to one group. And just next to Hara, he finally sees Alex. Alex looks tired, but whole. Uril lets out a relieved sigh, and picks his way around the other groups. Some look up at him curiously, but none try to question his presence or stop him. Only when he’s within arms reach does he finally relax. “Alex.”

  His boyfriend startles at hearing his name, but then Alex’s face brightens as he turns to see Uril behind him. “Uril! What are you doing here?” Alex asks, scrambling to his feet and looking Uril over.

  “Looking for you, obviously!” Uril says with a hint of his natural suave charm returning. He smiles, then grabs Alex in a tight hug. “I was so worried.” He huffs out, gripping Alex against him. Their height difference makes it quite comfortable to rest his cheek against Alex’s collarbone as Alex hugs him back.

  Alex doesn’t say anything about the condition of Uril’s dirtied and torn kilt, the scuffed up leather vest, or the sweat-dampened velvet of his fur. None of it matters. “I’m glad you’re here,” is all that Alex whispers out, giving Uril another squeeze. “Most of the other runners are ok, but we’re missing about six people.” Alex’s voice takes a turn for the somber, and Uril knows that not all six are ‘missing’, just from Alex’s tone. “How’s the damage outside?”

  Uril winces. “It’s pretty bad. Not ‘ruined city’ bad, but there’s a lot of damage. Most of the enchantments have been fucked up. A lot of people didn’t make it.” He says, feeling a pang of guilt that he’d been so focused on Alex and his own concerns. It’s soothed somewhat by the knowledge that he did stop to help where he could along the way. At least until more people were able to lend a hand.

  “Yeah, I bet.” Alex nods, then rests his cheek against Uril’s head. “We were just going to bunker down here for a couple hours, let the dust settle. The boss has already made the call that we’re not accepting any more deliveries until we know more about the city’s conditions and what happened.”

  The goat snorts. “It’s safe enough to go out. At least from what I could tell. But yeah, probably don’t wanna be on the streets too much right now.” He says, then steps back from Alex and looks him over. “You sure you’re ok?”

  Alex just nods a couple times. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just rattled.” He looks around the bay and sighs. “I’m not doing any good just sitting here. Can…” He trails off, eyes lingering on where a groggy Jewel leans against Dale’s shoulder, the pair talking quietly. “Can we go home?” He asks, his voice unable to hide the waver of exhaustion.

  Uril smiles softly and reaches to talk Alex’s hand in his. “Yeah, we can.” Alex squeezes the hand and then leans down to pat Hara’s side to wake the hound. “Which one’s your boss?” Uril asks, looking around. “I can give him a quick update on the situation, and then we’ll get out of here.”

  “That’s him.” Alex says, pointing out the portly drunkard. “His name’s Dale, that’s my friend Jewel with him.” He explains, then shares a few farewells with the others he’d been sitting with while Uril heads over to talk to Dale.

  Within a few minutes, Uril and Alex step out into the city again, hand in hand. “Something’s really screwy with the roadway enchantment, don’t try to use intent-movement.” Uril advises. “We’ll have to walk home the old-fashioned way.”