by BJ Hanlon
Edin started a fire and they put their backs to the river. At least they couldn’t be surrounded.
He needed rest and the thought of eating was sickening, but Monk started cooking anyway. He pulled out meats and some fresh vegetables. Tomatoes, carrots, celery; all things that’d be great in a stew, but the monks didn’t provide a pot. Instead they were roasted on an iron grate.
As they were cooking, the smell of burning flesh was pushed back and he grew hungry. Edin looked across the river the fifty or so yards and saw the inn and general store shut tight and dark. With all that’d happened, he wondered if the old man and woman were alive.
He felt a twinge of sadness when he remembered their jabs, him being lazy, her being uppity. There was something in those jokes. They were warming and fun and there was a sort of love in them.
Like Arianne and he. Edin wondered if the love was still there or if the dematian king had come by and stripped them of it like highwaymen to travelers.
The food was ready and despite his churning stomach, Edin ate. He stared at the moon and then his eyes went back toward the dark western sky. He could see no stars beyond the point where the sun disappeared. There was a bit of the night’s sky covered. It was like a black sheet was being pulled over the world. He knew it was coming this way.
In a half-awake stupor, he saw it. It was like that dream: the west wasn’t really rising in darkness it was being smothered. Life was being smothered so the wicked plants and swamps would live. Yio Volor would walk the land and Vestor would be forgotten.
If a god were forgotten, what would happen to him? Would he fade or would he simply be alone in the world or in the heavens? Would he be real anymore?
Despite no one worshiping Yio Volor he lived. Though maybe that wasn’t right. Edin had heard stories of his worshipers, creepy folks who’d dress in black and slaughter animals and spread their entrails around chalk circles and chant in nonsense tongue while they held hands and licked blood from things.
Edin shivered at the thought. Weirdos, and then got lost in the thought. A little while later, he fell back asleep.
The tunnel was ending. He could feel it. And before them, before Yio Volor and his army, there was a giant stone slab. It glowed with an ethereal white glow. A nimbus around it that made him think of a ghostly apparition. Maybe the spirit of the mountain.
He could see it from a distance and it was growing closer. A day or two and Yio would be there.
Edin felt the words in his head. They weren’t for him and they weren’t in a language he could really understand, but somehow, he could. The words were powerful and not meant for human ears.
There was a weird breaking, crackling sound then he heard ‘him,’ crackling ‘visit her is’ Do no fail…’
Everything was choppy in his head and it hurt. Edin closed his eyes so as to block out the approaching horde.
Edin had a foreboding of what was going to happen that day. The dematian king was coming, he’d be here eventually and sooner rather than later.
Edin only needed to know where to set up his defensive location. The best place to fight, or at least confront the dematian king.
Edin reached in his pocket and felt the emerald. He held it in his palm and some part of him—a very tiny, quiet voice—told him to send it away with the monk. Send them both down river to Alestow. Have the monk hide. Maybe Sinndilo would hide him in his brother’s old house or the castle.
Edin closed his eyes and pictured Arianne.
Edin released the stone and let it fall to the bottom of the robe’s pocket. He saw on the far side of the river that no one was waking. The raft was upstream of the dock and still hitched to its posts. The river provided a clacking of wood striking wood all night.
The road to Alestow was long, taking the raft may speed it up, but did he want to go to Alestow? Should he go there for his trap? Heck he probably couldn’t even get there. Not in time he knew and then wondered if the dematian king would show up if he were there behind city walls? He may, but he’d bring an army.
“What are you doing?” Monk said, startling him from behind. “Are you waiting for the boatman?”
“I don’t believe he’s coming,” Edin said. He stared at the ropes that tied the ferry to the dock. There were two. One on either end.
Edin summoned ethereal knives in his hand and threw them. One after the other. They split the ropes and the raft soon began to float toward the center of the river.
With his hand still out, he felt the water flowing beneath it. It was slow but cold and higher than last time with the recent spring melt.
Edin took control of the water, just the topmost layer and began to pull the raft toward him.
It took barely five minutes and was not much of a struggle. That was good. He brought it to the dock on his side and had the monk and Bliz get on. His dire wolf was a bit stubborn but eventually made it onto the rocking craft.
Edin let go of the talent and the raft began to flow downstream. Edin grabbed the pushing pole and leapt on. He used his muscle as opposed to the talent to push them across the river.
When they reached the other side, there wasn’t enough rope to tie up to the dock, but Edin didn’t see the husband and wife nor anyone else. He held the raft with his foot while the monk went in the inn.
Monk reappeared with another rope and they tied up to a tree.
“Was there an old couple?” Edin asked. “Cranky and probably arguing about nothing.”
The monk shook his head.
“Blast. They got some of the best ale I’ve ever had.”
“It looks abandoned,” Monk said. “But doesn’t smell of death.”
“Small blessings from the gods,” Edin said barely thinking about it. Edin hitched up the pack and went inside. He spotted the stool he’d sat at and looked toward the one where the old man had lingered. Where he had yelled at his wife and made Edin very uncomfortable until they stopped. It had been a game for Edin’s entertainment.
He thought again of the ale and the apple loaf. The smells came back to him. There was peace in this place at this crossroads. At his crossroads. When he was on the run he came here and they didn’t ask any real questions. He had a nice meal and met good people.
People who were gone and now this place was lonely. Empty of people and as good of a place as any to meet the dematian king.
Edin went behind the bar and picked up a mug. There was a bit of dust on it. He wiped it and filled it with the tap.
Bliz went through a swinging door and Edin heard him crunching on something back there. At least he was ravenous.
If Edin had coin, he’d leave it for them, but for now, he needed a drink and he needed a fortress. Even an old building could help. It did have few windows and access points.
Edin finished the ale and looked at the monk calling himself Monk. The man was stone faced and silent. He was looking around the room though as if disgusted by it, by the outer world.
“I need to board this place up,” Edin said. “The dematian king will be coming.”
The monk said. “I’m a decent enough craftsman.”
“I didn’t think you monks did any crafts. The place was like a pauper’s tomb.”
“Pauper’s cannot—”
“I know they cannot afford one, but if they did there would not be any decoration right? There’d be no personality.”
“I’m not sure how being a craftsman relates to a… personality. But I can construct and we can make things of beauty. We just do not keep them in the monastery. That is for the holy.”
The monk disappeared through the kitchen and said, “Come now dog, share.”
Edin snorted, there was most likely an exit through there. Then he looked around again. There was a stair heading up to the second floor as well as three windows on the front. None were longer than an arm’s length nor as high. The front door pushed inward which could be easily blocked with one of the tables. He’d put that in place when the time was right.
Aft
er a bit of searching he found a shed out back with wood, nails, and hammers. The monk and he began to board up the place.
Edin wasn’t sure how the dematian king would come. Would he fly in on a wyrm as he had last time? Would he muster an army to attack or would he come alone? Would he be overconfident in his own abilities?
Am I? Edin thought.
Above him, Edin heard the banging of hammers and the scraping of furniture being dragged across a wooden floor. It sent shivers down his spine.
Edin thought back to the dematian king. He knew he had to face him. That was Edin’s destiny.
But what was his fate? What would happen after all of this? Would he die fighting, would he somehow lose the stone and the dematian king would seize it and go open the gates to the underworld and let loose his master and all the demons and monsters of the past?
Anxiety grew in him and his hands shook when he thought of it.
“Pray to Vestor,” the monk said appearing in the doorway from upstairs. “We are secure. All windows have been boarded and furniture has been pushed against them.”
“Good,” he said and began toward the front door. It was an hour or so before midday he guessed.
He opened the door and looked upon the rising darkness to the west. Would it come from that way or would it come from the north or from the mountains?
He knew of but two tunnel entrances, the one outside Carrow was closed. Hopefully too the one outside of Calerrat.
The monk appeared behind him and then Bliz pushed through to stand before the porch. “Does the west usually look that dark outside the vale?” the monk said.
Edin shook his head. He was glad the monk wasn’t talking in his brain and didn’t seem to be trying to read it either. He thought about attempting to meditate to block off his mind but there was too much nervous energy coursing through him. Too much anticipation.
This could be the place where it all would end. If he could stop the dematian king next to this river, he could keep Yio Volor from rising, though he’d still have to do something about the dark sky and the swamps of old. And the most necessary to him, the most important. Arianne.
His heart ached and his stomach felt like it’d just disappeared. Edin set his ale down on the hitching post. The one he’d tied his horse up to when he’d first visited this tiny stop.
“So, what do we do now?” the monk said.
After a long moment Edin said, “You should leave. You cannot help me now. Take the raft and follow the river to Alestow.”
The monk just stared at Edin for a moment, a long moment. It was as if he were trying to read Edin’s mind, but he didn’t feel any invasion. Then the monk reached into his robe and pulled out a chain. It was like a Vestion priest’s chain, though this was much different. Much fuller. He saw the home and the book, he saw a snake, a sword, a triangle…
“After the first one-hundred years where we receive one token every ten, the chain becomes heavy. Then we switched to one token every one-hundred years, but after the first two-thousand, we decided that it should be one every thousand.” The monk paused looking at all of the tokens around his neck. It was longer than any monks he’d seen and would hang past the man’s navel though he held it between his hands, his eyes moving from token to token. The face, the shovel, a plant. “I just received my third thousand-year token last year. I have thirty in total and I do not believe my neck can handle another.”
The monk called Monk had a wistfulness in his voice. Edin had the feeling that despite the sorrow at his brother’s death, the sadness of leaving the vale, a part of the monk was awakened. He closed his eyes and then spoke again. “The abbot thinks I should as well.”
“He’s talking to you?”
‘I can talk to you too...,’ the abbot said in Edin’s head. It was so unexpected that he nearly dropped his ale. Monk steadied him.
‘Got it,’ Edin said. ‘No more of that will you. Talk through Monk.’
“He says fine. And that Berka is healing well. Another day and he should be healthy enough to leave.”
“A day in vale time?” Edin asked.
“Yes.”
“A fortnight or so in the out here.” Edin said. “What happened in the vale? What happened to the lake and the people and the animals…?”
“The mist did not touch the monastery. Everyone there was fine.” The monk seemed to catch his breath. “A few monks climbed the stairs to escape it, but they are in a bad way.”
“Your brother?”
“They’re all my brothers,” The monk paused. “But no, he did not return from the cottage.”
Edin said nothing. He turned back toward the north and then toward the west. He could see no monsters coming from either direction, though to the north, he saw clouds forming.
Thick bulbous gray clouds, like clothes in the washtub, began to roll together. They were far off and moving slowly, or so he thought.
Edin saw lightning inside one of the clouds, then more in another. Edin felt uneasy, then to the east something caught his eye, it flew toward the cloud and disappeared inside it. A streak of red with a grayish trail led to it like a wide tipped pen.
Then there was an explosion within… lightning increased to a vicious rumbling roar. Orange bursts erupted in there with the lightning. Orange and then yellow or blue. Then below it, objects began leaving the cloud. They were black and orange streaks that disappeared beyond the horizon. Edin wasn’t sure what happened but he realized his jaw was open and he glanced down at his mug.
The ale shivered in his hand. He set it down but the shivering didn’t stop.
“What is happening?” Monk said.
More objects began raining down. He heard as well as felt the explosions now. They rattled his bones.
Bliz whined and looked up at Edin. His dark eyes shimmering with what would’ve been fear, probably was fear.
“It’s moving toward us,” Monk said. There was no fear in that voice. Not anymore.
“You can still leave,” Edin said catching his breath and somehow getting his mouth to work. It took quite a bit to get that out.
Monk shook his head.
Edin looked at Bliz. “You can too.”
Bliz tilted his head as if to say, ‘are you serious?’ It was the same look Bliz had the last time Edin had to leave him.
“Well, it’s coming here, might as well get ready.”
Edin lit a fire in the hearth and set up candles around the room. Being able to control fire would be a plus and with the inn being stone, he felt at least partially protected.
Edin poured himself another ale and sat at the bar.
“This is what you’re going to do? Just drink some ale as the world is coming to an end.”
“Not yet, and it won’t be while I still hold this,” Edin said. He pulled the birth stone from his pocket and set it on the bar.
“It sure looks like it’s going to end,” Monk said as he moved closer. He reached out and picked up the emerald. “It looks just like a gemstone.”
“It’s the Birth Stone. One of five gemstones from the set of Blossom Stones.”
“The Blossom Stones? The stones of the gods?”
Edin nodded. “The ones that adorned the king’s crown for thousands of years until the fall of the kingdom.”
Monk moved close to the flame of a candle and peered down at it. It took a bit. A long bit as he looked into the stone. Edin wondered if he was talking to the abbot or just in deep thought.
Then he walked around the bar, grabbed a mug and an ale and sat down next to Edin. “So, you’re the Ecta Mastrino then, yes?”
Edin drank but didn’t answer. He was sick of answering this.
Monk began listing them: “Fire.” Edin nodded. “Water, wind, earth, lightning? Spirit?” Edin nodded at them all.
“Well I’ll be, you are the prophesized one, Vestor’s hero.”
Edin still felt off somehow. But what exactly did he expect when he grabbed the Birth Stone? Did he expect to be able to fly o
r something? Maybe move mountains with his mind or grow giant forests with a thought? Did he think he could create rivers or oceans or destroy cities?
He thought of those things, and none of that mattered right now. He pictured Arianne as he’d last seen her. In that darkened cell, all alone and scared, probably wondering where he was and why he wasn’t rescuing her?
How long had it been? Two months since the collapse of the ice tunnel? Three months? He didn’t even know. I’m failing her, he thought.
“So what’s the plan?”
“The dematian king is coming. He’ll try to kill me and take the emerald. Instead I’ll kill him and take back my stones. That way he cannot release Yio Volor.”
“Sounds like a simple plan,” Monk said sarcastically and took a sip from the ale. He was quiet then but it seemed like his brain was working. His eyes seemed thoughtful as the firelight danced off his dark pupils.
Was Monk talking with the abbot? Was he probing Edin’s mind? Could he search through it like a woodsman does animal scat to find out what the beast ate? Or was it like reading a tome.
Edin tried to blank out his mind. For a long time they just sat. Slowly, he began to hear the rolling thunder. It was barely audible and the crackling fire had covered the noise very well. Edin sipped on his ale even though it had long grown warm and the room had grown stuffy.
Bliz panted near his feet but Edin kept thinking about the ale or the fire or the walls, the dull brown walls with a single painting. One of the old proprietors. The ones who’d lived here and gave each other a rough time with everything.
The ones who’d loved each other as Edin loved Arianne.
Thunder grew louder and the explosions grew nearer. He wondered what it was like out there. Was the darkness whole yet? Was it night even though the clock on the wall had just chimed five?
Edin stood and looked at Monk. The man was sitting next to him, eyeing Edin carefully.
Monk took a breath and said, “I think I may wish to take your offer after all. I’m worthless in a fight and a boat ride down the river may do these old bones good.”
Edin nodded. He understood and despite having company, he wanted to do this alone. He didn’t want to have the old man, very old man’s well-being in his worry. It meant Edin couldn’t retreat on the raft, but what would that matter.
