Unlike regular locomotives, the Witch’s Train had compartments at least twice the size of private first-class carriages that even the twentieth century’s most luxurious trains had to offer. After all, space wasn’t an issue when size-altering charms existed, and some passengers were quite literally the size of a horse.
The entire carriage was eight seats wide and twelve cabins long, with two-person tables on one side of the corridor and tables for four on the other. Duncan had chosen the two-person table out of consideration for the other passengers, although the opposite compartment turned out to be empty as well.
After helping to keep Hilda’s bag in the overhead compartment, he sat across her and leaned back against the soft sofa. The train barely rumbled as it pulled away from the station and eased its way through the discrete tunnel boring a hole in the space-time continuum.
“So, uh…” Hilda fiddled with her voodoo doll as streaks of white and gold flashed past the window. “How’d all this happen?”
Duncan raised an eyebrow. “What, the train? Our compartment?”
“Yeah, yeah, I really like the whole interior design of this cabin— No,” Hilda replied sarcastically before gesturing to him. “I mean, how’d you become… like this? Immortal, I mean. Are— Are all witches immortal? How old are you?”
“Being a witch doesn’t make you immortal. No, I became an immortal in another way,” Duncan replied monotonously. “I’ve been alive since thirteen eighty-four.”
“How did you become immortal?” Hilda asked again, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“It’s a long story, girl.”
“We have time.”
The man rested an elbow on the table, looking out of the window with a faraway look in his eyes, before drawing a glyph in the air. A golden pill materialised in the centre of the glowing pattern, and Duncan plucked it out. “The elixir of life.”
Hilda listened intently as Duncan recounted the story of how he became immortal, from his patient who dashed herself on a dagger to the years he spent getting his addiction under control.
Although Hilda remained silent throughout, it felt good to talk about his past, as painful as it was. Perhaps it was because of the kid’s innocent expressions while he talked. Or perhaps she somehow reminded him of that warlord’s daughter, Yuri Kitagawa. Either way, he was grateful for the weight lifted from his chest. God, it felt like it had been suffocating him for centuries.
“What happened to me was an accident. Necessary, but still an accident,” Duncan finished the story. “No sane witch wants to be immortal.”
“Why not? Eternal youth sounds rather lovely to me.”
“It isn’t natural, and the consequences are heavy,” Duncan said grimly. “Immortals can’t have children, so we’re cursed to outlive our loved ones. No matter how many families we lose, the pain never lessens.”
Hilda’s expression softened. “That must be lonely.”
The immortal chuckled. “You have no idea. The worst part is that this is the end for us. Immortal beings have their souls’ immortality transferred to their physical bodies. Without a soul, we have no afterlife. All we have after death is oblivion. Only fools or the desperate would willingly choose immortality over an afterlife. Those who know better would rather have eternal rest after death than spend forever walking in the world.”
Hilda looked away this time, allowing the awkwardness to fill the air. Duncan couldn’t blame her; her life had barely begun. What would a mere seventeen-year-old know about death? What would she know about pain?
Duncan Ward was an outlaw, a rogue living eternally outside the natural laws of life and death. But while his body healed quickly, his mind never did. Wars, loss, suffering… Everything blurred together after so many years. But the people he saved? The people he couldn’t?
He would remember every single one of them forever.
“That woman earlier,” Hilda spoke up after a while. “Is she your lover?”
“Nosy little girl, aren’t you?” Duncan simpered, grateful for the change in topic. “No, she’s just a friend.”
“She cares a lot about you.”
“You think? I suppose you are right. Lucy is over three hundred years older than I, so she sometimes acts like my caretaker.”
Hilda flashed a wry smile. “Must be nice to have someone so concerned for you. I wonder what that feels like… Are you sure she isn’t in love with you? I’m pretty sure only those in love will care that much for someone.”
“If she were, she would’ve left Vladislaus Dracula for me when he turned out to be a womanising bastard.” Duncan shook his head, sighing. “That jerk married three other women less than five years into their marriage. Broke her heart, poor thing. She even had a small brawl with those homewreckers, but the eldest of the three kicked her out instead. Ileana was her name, if memory serves well.”
“But you were there for her afterwards?”
“Of course. But she’s just a good friend, nothing more than that.”
“Maybe you weren’t emotionally available enough to start anything.”
The man rolled his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean—”
Shadows flicked outside the compartment door. Duncan gave no outward sign that he noticed them, but he kept his attention outside anyway. He already had a feeling he was being watched ever since he bought his train tickets, although he couldn’t identify them without causing Hilda unnecessary alarm.
Whoever these people were, they had finally decided to show themselves.
“You know what? Why don’t you get some rest, Hilda? It must have been a sore day for you.” Duncan forced a smile as he passed the girl a blanket from underneath the seat. “Don’t mind me; I’m just heading out for a bit.”
Hilda tucked herself into the blanket and took out a book from her bag, which was positively brimming with medical books.
“What? I like reading medical books to sleep, alright?” Hilda said defensively after noticing Duncan staring. “It calms me down.”
“Aye, aye. I wasn’t judging. Tis a good hobby.”
Duncan slid the door open and glanced at the opposite compartment. It was occupied now, which further affirmed his suspicions. The Witch’s Train made no stops during its journey, so these guys were certainly not regular passengers who had just boarded either. They must have spent some time searching for his compartment.
But whatever they wanted with him, it shouldn’t involve his innocent companion.
He strolled to the back of his carriage, now acutely aware of the group of people following him. They weren’t even trying to be subtle about it. There were five, maybe six of them. None of them possessed magic as far as he could detect, but they had weapons. Best be careful if he had to tussle with them.
The man stopped outside the washroom and turned behind a wall. Thankfully, the design of the train had not changed much over the years, thanks to the longevity of those who managed its operations. The waiting space outside the toilets was still as big as ever, presumably to accommodate the larger passengers.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Duncan spoke up the moment the people turned into the waiting space as well. “The washroom is unoccupied if you are looking to use it.”
“We are not, Doctor Ward.” The tall woman staring eye-to-eye with him had a thick Russian accent. Like everyone else in the group, she was wearing a black and yellow tactical vest with a dark grey fur collar. “You have taken something from us.”
Duncan almost rolled his eyes in exasperation. He sure knew how to make friends.
“The Kiseigumo,” another man said in a Texan accent, stretching a palm out. “We have a limited supply of those creatures, so we’d very much appreciate it if you would return it to us.”
Various accents? So it’s an international organisation…
Duncan narrowed his eyes. As much as he wanted to deny them and ask further questions instead, it was best to avoid an unnecessary fight in a place full of innocent passengers. So, he produced the cube in his palm and handed it to them obediently.
“Much obliged, Mister Ward.” The Texan man grinned and kept the parasite. “One last thing, Doctor. Our leader has requested your presence, so you will be coming with us.”
“I’m afraid I cannot agree to that,” Duncan replied without hesitation. “You see, I’ve already agreed to accompany someone elsewhere today. Pray tell your leader— whoever he or she is— that I am… otherwise engaged.”
He stepped to the side and tried to walk back to his compartment, but a dark, beefy arm blocked his path.
“That will not be a problem.” This man had an African accent, probably Kenyan. “Lady Hilda Harvey will be a… ‘guest’ as well. Our leader wants both of you.”
The witch doctor chuckled darkly, taking a step back. “Is that so? Well, seems we have to do this after all. Don’t we now?”
Movement shifted among the small group of people, punctuating the tension in the air.
“Indeed, we do.” The Russian woman kept a hand behind her back as she stepped forward. “Witch.”
She drew a pistol at an alarming speed, but Duncan had already anticipated it. The tiny muzzle flashed just beside the side of his face as he tilted his head to one side nonchalantly.
He twisted the woman’s wrist to the side roughly, forcing her to the floor. Her lips curved into a snarl for a split second before Duncan hit a pressure point at the base of her neck, knocking her out instantly. Two shadows shifted from behind him.
Let me guess: one armed and the other unarmed?
Duncan stood up, carelessly redirecting an incoming knife to the side without even looking. Sure enough, a feral haymaker swung towards his face from the other side.
How predictable.
He leaned back and shoved the giant of a man, letting his wild swing tip himself off balance before sweeping his leg. The African man fell hard, and his face smashed against the floor with our loud thud. Duncan raised his foot, stomping on the man’s head to knock him out.
The remaining people brandished their weapons threateningly, although they couldn’t look more nervous. Duncan almost scoffed out loud at their foolishness. These guys were clearly expecting an easy fight since he wasn’t an officially trained brawler.
But after spending centuries on countless battlefields, anyone was bound to pick up a thing or two about fighting.
The East Asian-looking woman charged first, dual-wielding a pair of hammers. Duncan stepped back, only for someone to hit the back of his knees. His legs folded backwards immediately, and a thin rope hooked onto his neck.
Crap.
He gasped for air and struggled against the rope, but excruciating pain lanced up his legs before he could get a proper grip. Duncan craned his head, trying to see what on Earth had just happened.
Bloody hell, that crazy Asian woman was smashing her hammers onto his knees over and over again.
With a growl and a spark of magic, Duncan slapped the assailant behind him. The rope lost its grip instantly as the gravity on the man flipped directions, throwing him onto the ceiling. Without losing a beat, Duncan pulled the rope off his neck and threw it at his assailant instead. Green flashed in the witch’s eyes as he dispelled the gravity charm.
The woman lunged towards him with a maniacal growl, swinging her hammer at Duncan’s head—
He yanked the rope, dragging his assailant— who was still falling from the ceiling— and flinging him at the woman. The two assailants crashed unceremoniously onto the floor, motionless.
Duncan groaned, leaning against the wall to push himself up, but to no avail. He touched his bloodied knees gingerly before flinching in pain. The bones in both his legs were badly smashed; that was for sure. It would take at least a minute for them to heal completely—
Something flashed before his eyes.
Duncan gripped a hand forcing a syringe down on him as another calloused palm pulled him down from behind. He grunted with effort, struggling against the needle slowly inching towards his neck.
“Hey now, Doctor Ward. Easy, cowboy… Easy…” a Texan accent growled in his ear. “You’re one tough son of a bitch, but you ain’t invincible. Ya know what’ll happen with just one little prick of this venom?”
The witch doctor glanced at the vial in the syringe, his hands trembling with effort. “Yes…”
“This sweetheart here is modified Taipan venom,” the Texan man gloated, pushing the needle closer. “Your blood congeals, your organs shut down, and paralysis sets in. The best part? All of that will happen within less than a minute. An ordinary mortal would be dead by then, but an immortal like you? You’ll be suffering for a long time—”
“I said yes, damn it!”
Duncan’s now fully healed legs pushed him up with a burst of force. He swung his right leg back and crashed it into his assailant’s knee. Sure enough, the man’s grip on the needle loosened, along with a pained cry.
“Motus Prohibere.” Duncan swung around, pointing at his assailant.
The Texan man froze in his position as a yellow beam of light struck him mid-lunge, and the needle flicked out of his hand. Time seemed to slow down as his immobilised body collapsed to the ground, staring in both horror and helplessness at the syringe plummeting towards him—
Duncan snatched the needle from the air before it could touch the man’s skin.
Although these people were probably sent to kill him, he was still a doctor, and it left a bad taste to watch someone’s life slip away without doing anything. He stared at the venom in visible disgust and snapped it in half, letting the yellowish liquid spill onto the floor.
That was… harder than it should’ve been.
Still, he was sure there were six people in the cabin opposite his compartment. If only five people followed him to the back of the carriage, where was the sixth person—
Oh no.
Duncan sprinted along the corridor, ignoring the curious stares of the other passengers who had left their doors open. His compartment came into view soon enough, just in time for him to see a stranger in all black bent over the unconscious girl.
“Hilda!” He gritted his teeth at the intruder, charging magic in his palms. “Get your hands off her—”
Fog encroached on his mind instantly as the masked intruder turned around. The witch doctor stumbled back with his hands in front of himself, shielding his eyes from the huge hexagonal symbol on the intruder’s mask.
“Leave her… alone…” Duncan groaned as that strange pattern seemed to glow a faint blue. What sort of magic is that—
And then he was falling. By the time he hit the ground, everything had already gone dark.146Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfZdX3MEuWw
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