Jonis - Rowan Erlking (web based ebook reader .TXT) 📗

lieutenant rose to his feet. “How dare you talk to your superior officer that way! I can have you court-martialed!”

“And I have a long memory,” Jonis said back, panting. “I don’t think your weekend pass allows you to sneak out of the city for an easy lay in another city.”

“How dare you!” But the lieutenant said that in a low hiss, not willing to be overheard. “Are you threatening me?”

Jonis narrowed his eyes in a glare. “If you knew what those women were thinking, I don’t think you would be so casual to talk about them the way you do.”

“What do you know about it, kid?” the lieutenant snapped. “You aren’t even a man.”

“I know what my mother was thinking the day she killed herself,” Jonis said.

Cyle drew in a quick breath.

So did the corporals.

“Women do not take intimate touch lightly,” Jonis said staring right in the lieutenant’s eyes. “I doubt even the whores enjoy being with so many men.”

Snorting, the lieutenant turned. “Women…who cares. They’re stupid weak things anyway. Find a pretty one and get laid. That’s my motto.”

Cyle bristled. “You libertine!”

That only made the lieutenant smile.

Jonis narrowed his eyes. “No. He’s worse. He’s the kind of man that becomes a demonic predator, not by blood but by an evil will. I pity you.”

The lieutenant slapped him.

“That was foolish,” Jonis said, rubbing his cheek.

Immediately the lieutenant collapsed against the wall. He slid down. The two corporals stared at first. Then they jumped down to help their superior up. The lieutenant could barely hold up his head.

“What happened?” one of the corporals called out.

“Never touch a Cordril,” Cyle said, smiling with personal satisfaction. He glanced at Jonis. “It will do you more harm than him.”

A flight attendant rushed to where they were, handing over another bottle of ginger ale. “What happened? I heard one of you got sick?”

Jonis plucked the bottle from her fingers and smiled. “Thanks, that’s for me. He’s just tired. Maybe you can get him a pillow or something?”

She nodded and turned right away.

“And some nuts!” Cyle called after him.

The lieutenant kept his distance the rest of the trip.

 

When they landed in Harmas, it was already close to morning. Jonis bade Cyle farewell and searched for the city train station. It was not too far from the airport. With the directions of a city cop patrolling the streets, he found it. Many did not notice his blue eyes unless he stared straight at them. He found that if he ducked his eyes as he asked questions, while making a bow, he discovered that it kept others from getting nervous, and his questions were answered much quicker.

But when he arrived at the train station, he learned that the trains were not going to Ladis. However, he found that there were still taxi drivers hanging around on the curb, or rather they were starting their day, waiting for the morning commuters. Knowing he could hire a taxi with the government pass, Jonis searched for a brave or ignorant taxi driver to take him to Ladis instead. Luckily, he found the former first.

“Get in,” the driver said. “I’ll go anywhere for the Brein Amon Army, military boy.”

“I’ll pay you when we arrive,” Jonis said as he climbed into the back seat of the simple, tin-and-brass vehicle, flashing his military ID card. It had plush seats of rich vermillion with tassels and curtains, and wood trim.

“Don’t bother,” the driver said. “Just hand me that card, and I’ll run it through the receipt roller. I also need one of your tags to use for identification.”

Jonis did as asked. That was when the man saw his eyes. Jonis heard him gasp.

“Blue eyes.”

Knowing what would follow, Jonis said quickly, “Yes, I’m a Cordril. I work for the military and specialize in cures for nasty diseases. They want me in Ladis to deal with the plague. Now will you please hurry?”

The taxi driver took a large breath and hastily finished making a receipt to send off to the government for reimbursement. “Whoo! Now I’ve seen some strange things in my time, but you are the first Cordril I have come in contact with. I’ve met Goles, seen Night Stalkers. I even had a man with feathers sticking out of the back of his neck in my taxi. At the time I didn’t know it was a bird demon. But you, blue boy, are the first military demon I have seen.”

He turned and started the engine, shifting gears to his car and letting off the brake. “Hold on.  I’ll get you there fast.”

Jonis sat back in his seat, admiring this brave cabby. The man chatted with a smile as they drove down the road and out from the city skirts.

“You’ve met Goles?” he asked.

The man nodded and steered out to the main road that exited the city, his car bumping over the cobblestone a bit faster than comfort liked. “Yep. I met one while driving towards Wenden Village. He was standing in the road like a tree. I swerved and hit a tree at the side of the road instead.”

“How did you get away?” Jonis asked.

Shrugging, the taxi driver replied, “Are you kidding? I honked my horn like crazy. Goles don’t like noise. It ran off, and I just backed up and drove back to Harmas.”

“Your car still worked?” Jonis murmured.

The man laughed. “This here is a rear engine automobile. Combustion, not steam. And not as heavy as those steel cars. Great gas mileage.”

They rode on.

It took a half a day to reach the border city of Ladis. The driver dropped Jonis off at the city gates. He refused to enter the city though. He wasn’t that brave.

Jonis carried his bag, dragging his feet to the city walls, feeling so tired. Crossing the paved road to the towering stone gates of the enormous city—the third city he had now seen in his lifetime and by far the most barren looking one—he lifted his military tags out from his shirt to show the city guards that he was a solider. He also held out the copy of his orders. Both guards looked at him with fatigued eyes, so red from standing watch for such a long stretch without relief. They both wore surgical masks, bearing rifles in their hands and wearing gloves as if they did not want to touch anything or anyone. Upon seeing him, they just waved him in.

“It’s about time. Private, you are to go directly to the central office. Don’t touch anything and don’t deviate. Take the motorcycle.”

Jonis blinked at the two-wheeled vehicle on the curb. “But I don’t know how to drive.”

One of the men groaned then walked over. “I’ll take you. They should have told us you were a kid.”

Chapter Eleven: Meeting Captains

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The nature of an object is unchanging, whether demon, human, animal, herb, mineral, chemical, what have you, unless acted upon by a curse within our world.”

 

 

 

 

The gate guard dropped Jonis off at a whitewashed stone building off the main thoroughfare, driving away without even a wish for luck. Gazing up at the central military office of post fifty-eight in Ladis, carrying his duffel bag in a nervous grip, Jonis drew in a breath for strength then marched through the door. Jonis took in the scene with a sweeping gaze. With one glance at the orderly next to the door, he inhaled another hasty breath. Jonis tensed, sniffing the air again. The odor was frightfully familiar, like an intensely bad memory. The orderly peered up at him with bilious yellow eyes, wearing a surgical mask over the rest of his face.

“May I help you?” the man asked in a hoarse voice.

Jonis stepped back. He extended out his card with his outstretched hand. “I am here to report to Captain Powal. General Gomrey sent me.”

The military secretary got up with a sullen look and walked to the door behind him. He knocked twice. “Captain, a Private Macoy is here to see you.”

“Send him in,” a voice from the other side responded.

“Go in,” the orderly said, returning to his seat.

Jonis kept his eye on the orderly. He glanced at the other office workers also. Only one other looked as sick as that first man. He was filing papers, glaring over the open cabinet drawer at Jonis. Quickly twisting the doorknob, Jonis let himself in.

“Close the door,” the captain said as soon as he saw Jonis.

Obeying at once, Jonis peered at the captain’s face. This man’s eyes were clear and healthy, though he also was wearing a facemask. The room was simply furnished office. One bookshelf stood to the right. A map of the city hung on the left wall beside the door, and a map of Brein Amon hung on the right wall. The captain sat in a basic, padded swivel chair not too different from General Gomrey’s only it was simple brown leather and less padded. He leaned slightly against the medium-sized wooden desk in front of him. The top was orderly and clean, with all papers in their place and pens in their cups.

“Private Jonis Macoy, reporting for duty, sir.” Jonis saluted the captain.

Cap. Powal looked up at him. His strong jaw set, showing he was a man to be reckoned with. “Where’s your face mask? Didn’t they tell you we are under plague conditions?”

Jonis nodded, feeling once more like a child begging for approval. “Yes, sir. But I thought I was to assess the situation and deal with it. I have yet proof that I even need a face mask.”

The captain nodded. “Then you have been informed of your duty already. They said they had a magister-in-training at the camp. I hope you can solve this problem. Over thirty people have died, and many others are infected—including five of my men.”

“Do you know the basic symptoms?” Jonis asked, still disturbed by that horribly familiar smell. His thoughts turned readily into his magisterial mode, glad that the man was not talking down to him or staring at any length at his eyes.

Nodding, the captain recited while interlacing his fingers together on the desk in front of him. “Yellow eyes where they should be white. In advanced stages, the eyes are milky in the irises. And…around the mouth—”

“Is a foamy residue?” Jonis completed the thought, swallowing edgily.

“Yes!” The captain lifted his head. “You know what we are dealing with?”

Jonis clenched his teeth and nodded his head with a low grunt. “Let me guess: the dead are usually found with blood around their mouths, their insides rotted out.”

The captain nodded again. “Exactly. What is plaguing us?”

“Damn! You’re not going to like it.” Jonis stepped closer to the captain’s desk. “This isn’t a usual infection.”

“Who cares! If you can cure us, then do it.” The captain threw out an arm as if wishing to Jonis.

Jonis pulled back. “There is no cure. Those that are infected are already dead.”

“What do you mean?”

Swallowing, Jonis took a breath for strength. “The people are being inhabited by parasite demons, worms specifically.”

The captain rested his hand over his mouth, going ashen. He leaned against the desk for strength. “How did this happen?”

Bending over the desk, Jonis whispered. “Look, I saw two of your men out there, infected. They could be listening in. Parasite demons are intelligent. I suggest we continue to call