Page 49 of The Pale Rider
That fucking horse bolted away from the gate with his super-speed, leaving Aeron behind and me wondering what the fuck was going on. Didn’t they need as many people as possible at the gate fighting? Was Aeron fucking benching me? He had no problem fighting Rage Heads with me, but we couldn’t fight humans trying to destroy what California had built?
I was so fucking pissed off, and there was no way I could jump off Meremoth running this fast without getting hurt. I didn’t think the horse would ever stop running. And when he did, I had no idea why he stopped at the door of a bar. Meremoth stopped right at the front door and only gave me enough room to dismount and go inside.
I managed to get myself off the back of Meremoth ungracefully and tried to find the gate again to join the fight. Meremoth blocked whatever path I tried to take that wasn’t inside the bar. Can I say I hated it when Aeron and his fucking horse collaborated against me?
“Fine!” I yelled, throwing up my hands. “You’re both a horse’s ass.”
I stomped into the bar, and it was totally empty except one lone bartender. I plopped at the bar and pouted.
“Did you get benched by a fucking horse too?”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s a fight at the gate. I’d rather be there helping.”
“So would I, but I lost my leg in the war. Why’d they send you away?”
“I’m traveling with a man who thinks he always knows what’s best for me.”
“Fuck him, right? Well, you’re here. What will you have?”
“What are my options?”
“I’ve got a small brewery in the back. I can’t brew a lot because the supplies just aren’t there, but I can either get you a beer or a whiskey. It’s all rationed. You can only have two bottles of beer or three shots of whiskey, so choose wisely. House rules. I couldn’t stay in business if I let everyone get sloppy drunk every night.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Where the fuck have you been? Money is worthless now. It’s all about barter now.”
“All I have are clothes that you’d look stupid in, my bat, and a sketch pad.”
If I didn’t believe I could draw the future when I first heard it, this guy definitely would not give me a beer if I tried to tell him that. He’d probably boot my ass out his bar for fibbing.
“Tell you what. I’ll cut you a break since you’d be at that wall fighting if you could. Draw me a pretty picture for my bar, and I’ll give you a beer.”
“What would you like me to draw?”
“Surprise me.”
Oh, how I would have preferred him telling me what to draw. Apparently, when you set me loose with a sketchpad, I drew all manner of disaster. I had a feeling I would draw something fucked up, and I would not get my beer. And I really wanted that beer.
I pulled my sketch pad out my rucksack and grabbed the box of charcoal I took with me. Maybe I could draw something without having some sort of vision. Perhaps I could draw him dogs playing pool or something sweet.
I knew that was a lie as soon as I stared down at the blank page, and my vision blurred. I couldn’t have fought it if I wanted to. I couldn’t let go of the charcoal, and I couldn’t stop my hand from drawing. All I knew was that something significant was either happening or coming, and I needed to put it on paper.
I furiously drew, even when my hand started cramping. I couldn’t even make myself stop then. I couldn’t stop until my vision finally cleared. I looked down. What the fuck did I draw this time? The bartender was leaning over the bar watching me.
“If that battle at the gate goes near as well as your drawing, I’ll frame it and hang it in pride of place. Let me get you a beer.”
I had to remember my drawings were always symbolism, and I didn’t always understand them, because I certainly didn’t understand this. I had drawn Aeron standing at the top of the gate with his sword out. The sword had flames coming from the blade, and Aeron had feathery wings spread out from his back, and every single person on the other side of the gate was dead.
I’d only seen a few of my paintings about the future, but none of them were in your face obvious. I could only guess Aeron had saved the day with some crazy idea. Even if he had saved California somehow, he would still hear it from me that he sent me away. I could have helped.
“I know you barter here, but do you place bets? I’ll bet you another beer the man in that drawing will walk in this bar and tell us the wall is secure, and then I will punch him in the face.”
“You must think highly of the man you’re threatening to punch in the face if you drew him as an angel saving the city. Maybe save the punching for later. He was just trying to keep you safe.”
He opened a bottle of beer and slid it across the bar. I gulped half the bottle down and slammed it back on the bar. I didn’t take the time to savor it, even though I knew I was just getting the one.
