by Duncan Pile
Ossthak stopped in front of him. “We are here,” he said, gesturing at something in front of them. Shirukai peered into the mists and could just make out a giant shape, looming over them just beyond the boundaries of what the mist allowed him to see clearly. But there was only one thing it could be – the Temple of the Mists.
…
The questors packed up and left early the next morning, driven to action by Voltan, who didn’t want to waste a minute. Despite all the hustle, Emmy somehow managed to stay on the other side of the camp from Gaspi at all times. When they set off, she saw him lingering at the rear of the column and immediately trotted up front to put distance between them. Suppressing his irritation, Gaspi forced himself to remember his promise to Hephistole. He would treat Emmy well and do what he could to mend the rift, even if she wasn’t returning the favour. It didn’t feel fair, but the alternative was chasing her around trying to force her to talk, and there was no way he was going to make another scene in front of his friends. It was very hard for him to leave an issue unresolved, and he found it especially difficult to be misunderstood, but he stuck to his promise, waiting for a better moment to broach the subject with her.
Riding at the back of the column, Gaspi slowed his horse and pulled on the reins to turn it around. He looked back at the thicket and felt a moment’s sadness. He’d been happy there, cleansing the ground and healing the foliage with Loreill. He’d grown close to the band of men he was travelling with, lounging around the campfire every night, laughing and joking and listening to the Twins’ stories. They’d worked together to bring life back to a place that had been touched by death and decay. It had been an unexpected reminder of the healer’s life Gaspi had grown to love under Heath’s tutelage, but now they were leaving it all behind and he would be forced to wear violence like a cloak, ready to kill or be killed. Looking back at the clearing, he doubted they’d find comfort like that again while the quest endured. He took it in, trying to capture the image in his memory - sunlight kissing the flourishing green leaves and beaming through gaps in the branches, where it caught the upturned faces of a hundred winking flowers.
He breathed deeply, held it in and let it out again, before turning his horse around and nudged its flanks. It broke into a trot and then, at his urging, a canter, and within moments he’d caught up with the group.
…
They rode solidly for the next week, pressing on into the ever-steepening foothills of the Broken Ranges. As Emmy was keeping herself at a distance, and Taurnil was busy with Lydia, Gaspi shared his travels with others among the group. Sometimes he rode with Heath in companionable silence, although on request the druid would identify the animal, tree and plant life they were passing by, which kept Gaspi’s mind occupied. Sometimes he rode with Rimulth, catching up on all that had happened in the time they’d been apart. Gaspi apologised for leaving him behind when they snuck out on the quest, but Rimulth waved it away. As far as he was concerned, they were all doing their best in a desperate situation, and he trusted Gaspi’s intentions even if he didn’t agree with the decision. Gaspi found himself wishing that Emmy would think that way too!
The journey got tougher as the days went by. As they climbed, the pathways narrowed and became littered with broken and tumbled stones – which meant they had to concentrate hard on every step, making sure their horses didn’t lame themselves. They knew the horses could only take them so far, but Voltan was insistent on keeping them for as long as possible, so they rode on, eyes on the ground, concentrating so hard there was no time for chatter.
Even if they had been able to talk, Voltan wouldn’t have permitted it anyway. Every mile they travelled moved them into increasingly wild terrain, where attracting attention would not be advisable. Gone was the casual banter they’d enjoyed only days previously, and even in the evenings, when they set up camp for the night, they didn’t speak more than was necessary. Voltan wouldn’t permit them a cook-fire unless they were in a particularly sheltered spot with complete coverage, so most nights they ate trail rations, much to the horror of Baard, who munched the cold food down in transparent misery, accompanied by a steady stream of unhappy muttering.
Now that they were no longer concerned about an angry Hephistole catching up with them, Gaspi hoped they could start to use magic again, but Voltan was just as strict about it as before. They’d already come across a hermit using the foulest necromancy, and they didn’t know who or what else inhabited the hills around them. As far as Voltan was concerned, using magic would be like lighting a beacon for the most dangerous denizens of the wilds. Gaspi thought about contesting the warrior mage on this, especially after he’d sworn himself to Gaspi’s service, but in his heart of hearts he knew he would only be doing it because he wanted to sleep on soft moss instead of hard ground, which was hardly a reason to start a mutiny. Despite what had happened after Gaspi had saved everyone from the Bloodstone’s foul purposes, no-one, including Gaspi, thought he ought to lead the quest. Voltan was an experienced, confident leader, and the group quickly fell back into their normal pattern of following his lead.
After a week of near silent travel, Gaspi felt the last of the positivity he’d experienced in the hermit’s thicket drain away. Despite several attempts at building a bridge with Emmy, her attitude towards him remained as cold as the rations he was forced to eat, and that, along with the absence of any real conversation among the group, left him feeling cheerless and alone.
As they’d gained in altitude, the temperature had dropped considerably, hastening the first bite of autumn, and although Gaspi was alright in his enchanted cloak, the rest of the group were having to add extra layers. On the evening of the seventh day since leaving the thicket, the night air was the coldest it had yet been, and as the group bedded down for the night, Gaspi noticed that Emmy was shivering. Despite his anger at her for the way she was treating him, his heart went out to her. Emmy hated being cold more than almost anything. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he rose from the ground and walked over to her. She looked up as he approached, her expression a mixture of surprise and alarm. He knelt down next to her.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered harshly, as if he’d been somewhere else altogether and had only just arrived. Something about the way she spoke awoke Gaspi to the danger their relationship was in. He’d been trying to give her the space she needed to deal with her feelings, but instead of moving closer to a resolution, she’d clearly managed to build a wall between them. She kept away from him physically at all times as if that somehow meant they weren’t in the same place at all! Suddenly, Gaspi was afraid in a way he’d never been afraid before. If things carried on like this, it’d be the end of them. He opened his mouth, trying to think of anything he could say to make things better, but nothing sprang to mind. Besides, there was no way of starting a conversation about it now without causing a scene.
“You’re shivering,” he said, forcing a smile even though his heart was sinking like a stone. “I thought you might like my cloak.” He reached up to release the clasp from around his neck.
“NO!” Emmy snapped. “I don’t want it.”
“But Emmy,” Gaspi said, his hand freezing on the clasp. “You’re really cold.”
Emmy turned away from him. “Just go to bed Gaspi,” she said.
Feeling more dejected than he thought possible, Gaspi rose to his feet as if his legs were made of lead. He turned and slowly walked away. After a few paces, he could have sworn he heard a muffled sob from Emmy’s direction. He paused, listening hard for long moments but he didn’t hear the sound again and carried on back to his spot on the ground. He lay down and Loreill scooted in under his cloak, love pouring through the bond. Gaspi sent back a feeble note of thanks, stroking the elemental’s soft fur, but even Loreill’s presence couldn’t comfort him in that moment. What he wanted was Emmy’s touch, but even though she was only lying a few yards away, it might as well have been a hundred miles. He felt tears well up in his eyes. Life had toughened him
up a fair bit in the last year or so, and he could take a lot of things, but he couldn’t take losing Emmy. Come what may, he had to get her to talk to him. Clearly, leaving her to sort things through hadn’t worked at all, so it was time to address it head on. Tomorrow, come what may, he would talk with her properly. He’d stop the party and take her aside if he had to, because carrying on like this was no longer an option. He was so distracted and distraught he’d be of no use in a dangerous situation, and danger was the only thing they were guaranteed.
He blinked his eyes furiously, refusing to let any more tears flow. Why in the world had the elementals wanted Emmy along on the quest? Things had been fine before she arrived, and now they were a total mess. He shot indignant thoughts at Loreill, but the elemental seemed impervious to it, and all Gaspi could feel in return was a peaceful sense of rightness. Harrumphing dubiously, Gaspi turned on his side and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly.
…
When Gaspi awoke the next morning, it was with a sense of purpose. Come what may, he was going to resolve his issues with Emmy. He approached her when the group had finished their breakfast, and under cover of the clang of pots being gathered and washed, he held a hushed conversation with her.
“Emmy, will you ride with me today?” he said. She looked at him in surprise, her eyes reflecting a complex mixture of emotion Gaspi couldn’t interpret.
“Gaspi, I don’t think…”
“Emmy, we need to talk!” he said firmly. “If we carry on like this it’ll jeopardise the quest.”
She stared at him in tortured silence. “Okay,” she said at last, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Thank you,” Gaspi said. “When we set off, I’ll ride at the back of the column. I’ll see you there.” Without giving her a chance to change her mind, he turned away and went to help with the cleaning up.
Not long after that, the group had finished saddling their horses, and Voltan was leading the column out from camp. Gaspi lingered behind and waited for Emmy to join him. She was riding alongside Lydia up ahead of him, and for several minutes Gaspi watched in mounting concern, wondering if she’d changed her mind. He was relieved when, after a few hundred yards, she glanced back over her shoulder, saw him there and reined in her horse, letting the others pass by until he caught up with her.
She nudged her horse into motion again as Gaspi drew level, and they trotted slowly behind the group, allowing a short distance to grow between them and the rider in front so they could have some privacy. Although Gaspi felt strongly that they needed to talk, now that it came to it, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“So where do we start?” he asked in the end. Maybe Emmy would get things going.
“This was your idea,” Emmy said. “I don’t even want to talk.”
“Oh come on!” Gaspi said, exasperated with her. “Surely you want to sort this out! This is just horrible!”
She glanced at him angrily. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Gaspi took a deep breath to keep himself calm. “Yes you are,” he said. There was nothing else to do except launch right into it. “So why are you so upset with me? We’ve had problems before but we always solved them easily enough.”
Emmy shook her head decisively. “This is different.”
“Why’s it so different?”
“Because any problems we had in the past were just misunderstandings, but this time you lied to me,” she said.
“Is that really all it is?” Gaspi asked, and knew instantly that he’d made a mistake.
“If you’re going to be like that,” Emmy said, stiffening in the saddle, about to ride off.
“Emmy wait!” he said, reaching out and grabbing her leg. “I didn’t mean it badly. I just don’t get why that’s such a big deal. I mean, can’t you understand why I did it? I wanted to protect you. I knew you’d have to stay with Lydia and I knew we had to get out of there and start the quest. What choice did I have?”
“You should have told me,” she said stubbornly, shaking off his hand.
“But you wouldn’t have let me go!”
“Wouldn’t have let you?” she said archly. “Are you telling me that if I’d not wanted you to go, you’d have stayed?”
Gaspi stopped to consider the question. He’d never even thought about that. “You mean I should have told you and then gone ahead with the quest, even if you didn’t want me to?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“But there’s no way you’d have let me go,” he repeated dumbly.
“You can make up your own mind Gaspi, especially about things as important as this.”
Gaspi stared at her mutely, trying to process what Emmy was saying. “It would have been horrible,” he said at last. “You’d have gone mental.”
“Yes I probably would, but it’s much better than this!” she said wearily. “If you’d told me, we might have argued, and if you went anyway I would have been furious, but the next day I’d have found out about how close the Darkman came to finding you, and I’d have seen things differently.”
Gaspi mulled it over. It was a totally new concept to him – going against Emmy’s wishes – but what she was saying made sense. “I never thought of it,” he said honestly. “I always check the big stuff with you, and if you’re not up for it, I don’t go ahead. Like when I went to Heath’s. I wouldn’t say yes to Hephistole until you’d agreed.”
“I know that, but this is different. It’s too important to let anything come in the way of - even me.”
“Okay I get it,” he conceded. “I never thought of it at all, but I can see your point. I could have done this completely differently. I’m sorry Emmy.”
Emmy nodded sharply, accepting his apology. He reached out to squeeze her hand, but she pulled it back.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You’re right, I’m wrong. That’s not what I thought I’d be saying at the beginning of this conversation, but it turns out I was being stupid after all.”
“You lied to me,” Emmy said quietly.
“We already covered that!” Gaspi said, confused and exasperated once again.
“Listen Gaspi, I need you to understand this, or there’s no way we can ever be close again.” Gaspi closed his mouth, sobered by her tone. “We’ve had problems before but they were honest problems. Either you were being insecure or I was being naïve, but we could always talk about things. I just can’t get over the fact you looked me in the eye and lied to me. The thing I’ve always loved about us is that we talk about everything, and I could always trust what you’re saying. But now that’s changed.”
Gaspi felt himself slump in the saddle as dejection set in. He hadn’t understood the reason for Emmy’s behaviour until that moment. He’d thought she was being childish, or over-the-top, but now that he’d heard what she had to say, he knew he’d messed up badly. Emmy was right – what made their relationship special was the way they were able to talk. They talked about everything – chatting and spending time together was all either of them seemed to want to do. And when things went wrong, they found their way out of it by being honest, even if it made them look stupid. He’d felt physically sick after lying to her back in the Warren. It had felt fundamentally wrong, but he’d gone against his instincts. Well, he was paying the price for that now!
“Emmy I’m so sorry,” he said.
“Thank you,” she responded more softly. He felt a gentle touch on his knee, light but affirming, and he glanced up to find Emmy looking back at him with understanding. “You were right to make me talk,” she said. “I can’t just change how I feel, but this is a good start.”
“Okay,” he said, feeling so downcast he didn’t have anything more to say.
“I’m going to ride with Lydia,” she said. “Hang out with Taurn or something. We’ll talk again soon.” Gaspi nodded. She nudged her heels into her horse’s flanks and rode on up the column, leaving him on his own.
Eighteen
Emmy’s attit
ude towards Gaspi improved over the next couple of days. She still didn’t want to spend time alone with him, but she was no longer cold and withdrawn. Gaspi was desperate to re-forge the bond between them, but he instinctively knew not to force the matter. Emmy would work out whether or not she could trust him again in her own time, and the only thing he could do to speed that decision along was to make sure he didn’t pressure her. It hurt like hell being so near to her and feeling a thousand miles away, but at the end of the day, he loved her, and after treating her so badly, it was time to put her feelings first.
Emmy’s improved mood affected the whole group, lifting the mood among them, but the journey was still far from fun and it was getting worse all the time. They needed to travel in secret so chatter was limited, and the ever-dropping temperature made every practical job a chore. Just securing their horses’ tack and saddle in the morning chafed their skin and numbed their fingers. Emmy had finally accepted Gaspi’s enchanted cloak from him – a good sign he hoped – but as a result he was regularly clutching her own, un-magical garment tightly around his neck to keep out the chill wind. That wind troubled their days and harried their nights, whistling around their prone forms as they tried to sleep, conspiring with the hard ground to keep true rest at bay. After days of enduring this torment they were all exhausted. Each of them was worn down by the daily grind, their eyes gritty and their senses dulled, which might explain how unprepared they were when they stumbled into the front yard of a towering mountain fortress.
