Sutoka gritted his teeth and opened his mouth as though to speak, but then closed it again, sheathing his sword. The others lowered their weapons.

    “Thank you,” Cap said.

    Daiki looked back. Kasumi was helping Aquila to her feet and handing her the military coat. Aquila put it back on and popped the collar, her face sullen.

    “Can you send them back home?” Daiki asked.

    Aquila nodded. “I remember where they’re all from, so yes. But, it’s been five years, and they were all from active stories. The information stream would have replaced them in their story worlds by now.”

    “You heard the lady,” Cap said. “She can send you home, but there’s a risk. The way these story worlds work, you’ll have been replaced by another version of you, so if you go back there will be two of you. And that means that when the information stream updates it will either merge you into a single person or delete you.” He turned back to Aquila. “Do I have that right?”

    Aquila nodded, wiping a last tear from her cheek.

    “Better than staying here,” the man with the wooden sword said.

    “I’ll take that risk,” the young man with the club declared.

    “If that’s the best I can get in satisfaction, I’ll take it,” Sutoka said.

    “I think that’s a ‘yes’ for all of us,” Ragnar stated. “But I want to leave last. I have some things I want to say once they’re gone.”

    “Fine,” Aquila said. “Get anything you want to take with you.”

    “But don’t take too long,” Cap added.

    Daiki scabbarded his sword and took a deep breath.

    “There’s nothing we want to take from here,” Sutoka stated.

    “Last chance,” Aquila said. Nobody moved. “Okay then.” Aquila motioned at each one of them, and they disappeared in a flash of light and a rushing of air into the space they left behind.

    Aquila stepped forward and embraced Ragnar. “Please don’t go,” she said. “If you go back, you’ll be erased or merged, and there’s no way of knowing which it will be.”

    Ragnar hugged her back. “I know. That’s the price I have to pay for joining your war. But my daughter will be twelve by now. If I can see her just one more time, it will be worth it.”

    “That fellow there is Daiki Yamato,” Aquila said, pointing at him. “We’re trying to get him back to his fiancee. Come with us – we can use your skills.”

    “If you know why he has to go back to his fiancee, then you know why I have to go back to my daughter too.”

    “I hope that you’re merged,” Aquila said, burying her head in his chest. “Please let you be merged.”

    “It’s okay,” Ragnar said. “Do you mind if I say a few words to the others?”

    Aquila shook her head and stepped back. Ragnar turned to face the others. “Thank you for saving her just now,” he said to Daiki and Cap. Then he stepped over to Kasumi. “I take it you’re the young lady she fought her war over? I only got a glimpse of you when the miracle happened.”

    Kasumi nodded.

    “Well, thank you for saving her back then. Take good care of her.”

    “I will,” Kasumi said quietly.

    “So, I guess it’s time for me to go,” Ragnar declared. “We were the only ones using that place, so feel free to do whatever you want with it. The food’s not great, but there’s enough for four for at least a couple of days. The still is...well...you’ll find out if you try it. The locals occasionally come by to trade, but otherwise they leave us alone, so you should be good for a while. And that’s it, I guess. Send me to my daughter!”

    Aquila raised her hand and paused. “Ragnar...thank you for stopping me back then.”

    Ragnar nodded and smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

    Aquila closed her eyes, and Ragnar disappeared in a flash of light and an inrush of air.

    “I say we pitch our tents inside the wall,” Cap said. “I really don’t want to use those guys’ bunks.”

    Daiki jumped as he heard Kasumi slap Aquila hard on the cheek. “Don’t ever do something like that again!” she cried, tears running down her cheeks, and then stormed through the gate.

    Aquila glared at the two of them. “We are going to have a long discussion about what happened here today,” she declared, and then marched off after Kasumi.

    Cap looked at Daiki. “This might be an awkward afternoon,” he said.

    Daiki nodded.

    “Well, let’s go see this place we’ll be spending the night,” Cap said, heading through the gate. Daiki shrugged and followed.

Daiki found Aquila drinking alone in the shed with the still. It sat behind a small makeshift bar with four rough-made chairs in front. Aquila sat in one of them, her coat draped over the chair beside her. In her other hand, she fidgeted with a gold signet ring. When she saw him, she reached down and slipped the ring into her coat.

    “I see you found the still,” Daiki said. “Is it any good?”

    “Now you’re talkative,” Aquila grumbled. “Try it for yourself and see.”

    Daiki sat down beside the coat and poured himself a drink. He took a sip and winced. “Wow...this is terrible.”

    Aquila turned to glare at him. “How dare you?” she demanded. “How dare you? That was my choice back there. Mine. It wasn’t yours to take away from me. It’s my life!”

    “So many people say that,” Daiki said. “If there’s something I’ve learned, it’s that they’re wrong. It’s never just our own life. Everybody we care about, everybody who depends on us, everybody we love...they all have a claim on us. Our lives belong to them too, at least a bit.”

    “You’ve known me for a day,” Aquila stated, emptying her glass. “You don’t get a vote.”

    Daiki nodded. “That’s true. Neither Cap nor I get a vote. But Kasumi does.”

    Aquila looked down at her glass. “That’s not fair.”

    “You may not see it, but she needs you a lot more than you need redemption, or whatever it is you’re seeking.”

    Aquila refilled her glass. “You have no understanding of what I’ve done. I didn’t just kill people on the battlefield. I went into their worlds, killed them, and taunted them as they died while everybody who ever loved their story watched. I killed a hundred and forty-seven people in my war. Only three of them were in proper battle. You think there’s any forgiveness for me? There is none – the dead don’t forgive.”

    Daiki took another sip and winced. It was still terrible. “The dead can’t atone, either. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do by helping me get home?”

    Aquila emptied her glass. “You didn’t see me during the war.”

    Daiki nodded. “That’s true. This angry, vicious, vindictive version of you is not a person I’ve ever met. The person I met was you. You, as you are right now. Somebody who cares so much about making things right that she’ll...well...do what you did today.”

    “It’s all the same person.”

    “Perhaps,” Daiki said. “I spent a lot of time being betrayed in my story. I didn’t start off as a good judge of character – I ignored all the warning signs that Saline was a psychopath, and she used that to turn me into a fugitive for months – but I had to become one very quickly. Whatever you once were, there is no world in which you could be called a villain today. And you are somebody who is worth fighting for.”

    Daiki frowned, lost in thought.

    “What?” Aquila asked.

    “Sorry?”

    “You just got this far away look on your face,” Aquila said. “What is it?”

    “It’s something my creator said before she died,” Daiki replied. “Right after she killed Saline in that final battle, she said that Saline was the only irredeemable character she had ever written.”

    “From what you told us, she sounded pretty irredeemable,” Aquila said.

    “Yes, but if she’s the only character in my story who was irredeemable, then what about the Devil King?”

    Aquila looked at her glass, and then pushed it away. “I think I’ve had enough.” She turned to Daiki. “Okay, I’m listening.”

    “The Destroyer – the enemy leader from the war in my hub world – was a copy of the Devil King from my story. He died on my sword. And, when I fought him, I saw thoughtfulness, honour, and even compassion. I didn’t see any malice or vindictiveness.”

    Aquila took a breath. “Daiki, I think I know where you’re going with this, but once a war starts it takes on a momentum of its own. It is very hard to make anybody come to the table once the killing has begun, especially if they think they’re winning. You’re not going to be able to just approach him and talk to him. You’re going to need to give him a reason to talk to you.”

    “But, it’s possible, right?” Daiki said. “My story doesn’t need to end with me fighting and killing the Devil King. I could get him to see reason.”

    Aquila shook her head. “I wish I could tell you that’s true, but it’s so much harder than you think. Look, tell me this: why is he fighting?”

    “I don’t know. I don’t even know his name.”

    “If you don’t know why he’s fighting in the first place, how can you ever meet him halfway?” Aquila started to put on her coat. “I wasn’t stopped by somebody on the other side in my war – I was stopped by Ragnar, my right-hand man. He knew what I really needed, even when I didn’t. No matter how reasonable your Devil King is, you can’t make a peace with him until you know why he’s fighting. You won’t be able to do that until you talk to him. And you won’t be able to talk to him until you can give him a reason to sit down with you.”

    “Wherever you two are, something is happening outside!” Cap’s voice called out. “You might want to see this.”

    Aquila looked at Daiki and smiled. “I guess we should go see what’s happening.” She climbed out of her chair, steadying herself on the bar. Daiki looked at her with concern as she pulled on her coat. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just a bit tipsy. I’m fine.” She popped the collar.

    Daiki and Aquila stepped outside. Cap and Kasumi perched on the roof of one of the makeshift buildings. Cap waved. “Don’t worry about coming up,” he said, reaching down to give them a hand. “It’s strong enough to support everybody’s weight.”

    Aquila and Daiki climbed up and sat down, Aquila beside Kasumi. Daiki looked out. In the distance some dune buggies drove by in a chase, with the occasional flash and popping of gunfire.

    “You might not be able to see it, but those buggies are covered with spikes,” Cap said. “The drivers are wearing these weird leather outfits. So, I’m calling this world a ‘post-apocalypse dune buggy’ story. We must have shown up in the middle of a battlefield.”

    “Good thing we got clear, then,” Daiki said. He looked at Aquila. “Can you see if any of them are the protagonist?”

    Aquila shook her head. “Not at this distance. I need to be fairly close to read somebody’s character description. No way to tell without checking it out, but that would mean walking into a battle in progress.”

    “That sounds like a pretty bad idea,” Daiki said.

    “It is definitely a bad idea,” Kasumi said.

    “That’s somebody else’s story,” Cap said, his voice thoughtful and a bit sad. “We should leave it alone, shouldn’t we? It’s not our story to play with.”

    Aquila nodded. “We don’t have the right.” She turned to Kasumi. “Look, I’m sorry for what I did. I won’t ever do something like that again, I promise.”

    Kasumi hugged her. “Good.”

    “So, for the rest of this trip, we try to stay to the sidelines,” Cap said. In the distance, one of the dune buggies wiped out in a cloud of sand.

    “Probably the best approach,” Aquila said. “They’re seriously dressed in leather in this heat?”

    Kasumi stared at her. “Says the woman in the black wool coat.”

    “How many times do I have to say it?” Aquila asked. “I love this coat.”

    “You are definitely doing your own laundry tonight,” Kasumi said.

    “Now that’s not fair,” Aquila said. “You don’t even know if they have anything you can do laundry with here.”

    “I’ll draw you a bucket of soapy water.”

    Daiki and Cap shared a smile, and then looked back out at the dune buggy chase. As they watched, Daiki wondered if the portal to the next story world would take him home.

NEXT: “Game”