by Michael Mood
Chapter 30 – Reinforcements
-1-
“Shh,” Domma said. “Hold still.”
“I've never done this before,” said Halimaldie.
“Get your hands ready,” Domma whispered.
Domma lunged forward then, charging into the bushes. Halimaldie waited, his eyes searching frantically. Then he saw it. A rabbit bolted out of the bush and Halimaldie dove, throwing himself on top of it as quickly as he could. The thing screamed, like he had never known rabbits could do, and then his dagger was in it. He stabbed right near where he thought its heart might be, but honestly he didn't know.
“Good job,” Domma said sarcastically. “It's all squished, bloody, and mangled.”
“It's dead, isn't it?” Halimaldie replied. “That means we can eat it, right?” He was breathing heavily, heart pounding as hard as it had been when he had been near the Foglins in the mine. There was something exhilarating about catching his own food.
He held his bloody prize in his gloved hand and made his way back to the fire, suddenly realizing he'd never really traveled. He'd gone other places, surely, but always with an entourage of servants, sell-swords, and navigators.
“Now what?” he asked.
“We'd better skin it,” Domma said.
“My dagger's already bloody. We could just use that.”
Domma took it from him. He never let anyone touch his golden prize, but he let her take it.
“I just can't believe you've never done this,” Domma said.
“Usually by the time I touch my food, this part's been dealt with already. Why have you done this? You're a Cleric, right?”
“We do go on missions to other places, Halimaldie. We don't just stay holed up in our Temple for our entire lives.”
“I guess I feel a bit naïve,” Halimaldie said. “I've always thought I was so worldly. I've traveled extensively when I've needed to for business. But this scenario we've found ourselves in . . . despite its simplicity it's completely foreign to me. I've been discovering a lot of things I never knew before. Or maybe never believed in. Maybe I'm getting used to it.”
Domma was busy slicing up the rabbit. “I saw four of my sisters murdered before my own eyes, used as some sort of disgusting Foglin incubators.” She looked sick. “Some things you don't get used to.”
“I'm sorry,” Halimaldie said. “This is all new to me, too. I mean this Foglin thing. They were always just stories here in Hardeen Kingdom. The Vaporgaard seems to be slacking on the job. Or else the game has changed, I don't know.”
Domma began to stab sticks through various parts of the rabbit, setting them at angles on the fire to cook. The meat started to smell incredibly good to Halimaldie, and he felt something primal begin to stir inside of him. He gazed across the flames at Domma and just the look of her brought to mind Yarrow. He had wanted that woman badly, not because she was like him, but because she was unlike him. He wanted to feel the organics of her world again and vowed he would do so when he returned to Haroma.
Domma handed Halimaldie's dagger back to him. He wiped it off in the snow as best he could and dried it on his shirt, then he tucked it back into the sheath where it belonged. The daggers had been gifts from his father, just before the old man had passed from this world into whatever lay beyond.
Halimaldie's stomach rumbled audibly. “Is it done?” he asked, licking his lips.
“Not unless you want it totally raw in the middle.”
Halimaldie wasn't sure if he did or not.
“What is it that you believe, Halimaldie?” Domma asked rather suddenly. “What drives you?”
Halimaldie laughed through his nose a little bit. “I'd hate to tell you, Cleric. You'll find I'm not a man of God at heart.”
“Halimaldie, I know people of many Gods. I know people with none. I've heard your name before, you know. You're one of the most influential players in Haroma and you know it. It's not many that get an intimate chance to talk to you like this. So tell me. Who are you?”
Halimaldie stopped and thought. “What an easy yet difficult question. I like it. Who am I? I am a man that enjoys being successful. I enjoy challenges. I can adapt to almost any situation that interests me. I don't believe in things I can't see with my own eyes. I believe that successful men are brilliant and hardworking, but also lucky. I don't believe in failure. I don't suffer fools gladly, but who does?”
“Have you ever been married?”
Halimaldie smirked. “No.”
“Ever wanted to?”
“If you're asking-”
“Oh, I'm not asking for myself,” she laughed. “It's just . . . well, I thought I was in love. I was sure of it. Have you ever been sure of something? So sure of it that when it doesn't turn out to be true you can't deal with it and so you simply push it aside?”
“I was sure my brother would go into business with me,” Halimaldie said, sighing. “Brotherly love. That's a thing, right?”
Domma nodded.
“I was so sure he would join me. We grew up privileged, you know? That's what people would say, anyway. I never thought of it that way, honestly. I was always somewhat shocked when people hated me without knowing me, but there you have it. Anyway, I expected Tell and I to rule Haroma. Not as kings, mind you. I wanted us to do what we knew how to do and do it well. Better than anyone.” Halimaldie sighed. “Then, something changed in him, but not in me. I continued on without him. I left him behind. Or he left me. I don't know where the blame lies, or who failed.”
“Maybe it doesn't need to lie anywhere,” Domma said. “Maybe things just are as they are. Remember, you don't believe in failure.” She smiled.
Halimaldie laughed. “It's easier to preach than to practice, isn't it?”
“I have always found that to be true.”
“I suppose you deal with it every day.”
“More than you know,” Domma said. She seemed to have more secrets behind her eyes, but Halimaldie wasn't going to pry. “Don't you ever feel that something is missing, Halimaldie?”
“I honestly don't have time to think about it.”
“Don't you have time right now?”
Halimaldie dodged the question. “Right now what's missing is food from my stomach.”
The fire guttered a little bit under a cold breeze that blew, and Halimaldie noticed that the rabbit parts were now black.
“Ack!” Domma yelled as she grabbed for them. “Okay, they're a little blackened. It could be worse.”
But Halimaldie was already eating one, burning his mouth and not caring.
-2-
They melted snow for water and Halimaldie drank it from his cupped hands, another thing he could never remember doing. Mostly he and Domma walked in silence, offering each other the odd phrase of conversation but never really committing to anything since that first night.
“You're sure you know where we're going?” Halimaldie asked for the twentieth time.
“Yes,” Domma said. “I had a vision while I was down in the hospital. God told me.”
Halimaldie had no other option but to trust. He'd never been this far north before. This region had vastly inferior natural resources. Unless he suddenly wanted to import snow there was really nothing of use. His efforts were better spent elsewhere.
He had to admit that the mountains were beautiful. Spring had not yet been entirely able to clear the snow from them, and it was a pleasant thing, because Halimaldie had always enjoyed winter.
On one particularly drab day Halimaldie and Domma were hoisting each other over some large sloping rocks, when Halimaldie saw something out of the corner of his eye.
“Stay still,” he whispered, his hand going to his dagger.
“What?” Domma hissed.
“I think someone's back there.”
The shape shifted and moved. Halimaldie couldn't follow it with his eyes. It seemed to be just a mass of swirling colors that skipped here and there. “What the hell?” he breathed.
Suddenly a man st
ood in front of him and Halimaldie lurched backwards, losing his footing on one of the rocks and going painfully to one knee.
“Hello,” said the man. He was wearing purple and silver, and Halimaldie could tell just from the way he stood that he was a Kingsguardian. “My name is Angloriel. Trance sent me.”
The Kingsguardian wore a comically large sword at his hip, but Halimaldie had no doubt that in this man's hands it was a serious weapon that had taken many lives. Other than that sword he was standard Kingsguard fare: purple and silver tabard over light, mobile armor. He looked about forty years old, but it was hard to tell. Teeth were the best indicator of age, and Halimaldie had trouble seeing Angloriel's mouth through the man's shaggy beard.
“Halimaldie,” said Halimaldie, standing up and extending his hand. The Kingsguardian probably could have squeezed the blood out of it, but he took it in a measured grip. So he's not an asshole, Halimaldie thought. He was able to tell a lot about a person by their handshake.
“Those symbols are incredible,” Angloriel said. “I've never seen magic like that before.” He leaned closer to inspect their arms.
Domma was balanced precariously between two rocks. “Could we do introductions later?” she asked.
Angloriel laughed and stepped over to her, as sure as a goat. He scooped her and carried her across the uneven field. He started to head back for Halimaldie, but Halimaldie held up his hand and did his best to cross by himself. He only fell twice.
“Manly,” Angloriel said, a hint of mischief in his eyes.
Not as much of a full-fledged trickster as Trance, but certainly not as stuffy as Kelin and Telin.
“I think you may be disappointed in the length of this journey,” Domma said. “We are nearly there.”
“Perfect,” Angloriel said. “I have many other things to do. Kingdom's not in an uproar about this whole Foglin thing yet, but secrets have a way of getting out eventually.”
After crossing the boulder field they stood on a wide plateau. A mass of trees stood on the horizon and they walked towards it.
The placement of the forest was strange, and even Halimaldie could feel that there was power within it. Angloriel cut the occasional branch with his sword to make enough space for everyone to get through, and soon they saw a large building that towered over them.
“This is it,” Halimaldie said, very certain of his assessment. He noticed a small group of people and animals standing in front of the building already. “Who are these people? Some kind of clerics or priests?”
“I'm not sure,” Domma said, “but they have a Monk in their midst, and he glows as we do.” Halimaldie could pick out three people with glowing symbols, bringing the total to five. Domma had told him about the five aspects of God as they had walked. The number seemed right. Everything seemed to be in order here.
Domma adjusted her hood so that it covered her head and the top of her face and walked over to greet the group in a slow, almost regal way. Halimaldie supposed that, for her, this meeting of Godly chosen was something special; something holy.
He decided to treat it as business as usual.
Find out what's going on. Find out the problem and what resources are available. Try to solve it. Move on.
That was Halimaldie D'Arvenant. And here he was.
Chapter 31 – It Begins and Ends
-1-
“So this is us, then?” the heavyset man with the brown beard asked. His forearm held the symbol of a black and white coin. He smirked a little. “What a fine group of heroes we look to be.”
He was right. Wren took stock of everyone who was there. They had all formed a small circle, and no one looked to be in fantastically good condition.
There was Wren herself, ragged and bloody with her red and gold vine symbol, and Heather, an old woman by anyone's standards. Crasher stood next to Wren, giving her stability while she leaned on his powerful shoulder. Tessa was nestled in her pocket. The white foal - still smeared with a little bit of red blood - danced giddily.
To Wren's left stood a hooded figure that Wren thought was a woman, but couldn't be sure as all she could see was her lips and chin. Her robe was of blue and yellow and the woman had a colored forearm symbol to match: the sun in the sky. She stood, slumped and tired.
Next to the robed woman stood the heavyset man with the glowing coin on his arm. He looked bedraggled to say the least, but had an expression on his face that told Wren he was sure of himself..
A strong, powerful man dressed in purple and silver stood next to him. The man was some sort of royal guard to be sure, but he wasn't wearing Shailand colors, so Wren didn't know where his allegiance lay.
Then there was the talkative, black-haired woman, Raven Icehall. Wren had felt an instant dislike for her when she had introduced herself, but she wasn't sure why. Something about the way she opened up so quickly to everyone, as if she were everyone's best friend. Or the way she held her chest so high, almost leading with it.
Raven was sort of hanging on Otom's shoulder. He was thick and powerfully built with a full beard and a totally shaved head. He hadn't said a single word so far. It was a good thing he had his talkative envoy there to cover for him. Otom had the symbol of some type of fish that glowed brown and orange.
The last member was someone that Wren thought she recognized in the back of her mind, but couldn't be quite sure. He had introduced himself as Krothair, and that name tickled at her, but she let it go for now. There were more important things to think about. The boy, who was probably just a little older than she, was powerfully built. He had a scraggly beard that he was scratching at. A silver and purple sword glowed on his forearm.
“It appears as if all the magics are represented,” Heather said. “If there was ever a time to do something, now is that time.”
The large man in purple and silver spoke. “What say you, D'Arvenant? How does your hand feel?”
The heavyset man, D'Arvenant, raised his hand towards the Temple and stared at it. “Seems to be fine, Angloriel.”
“Should probably head in, then,” Raven said, her voice annoying Wren immediately. “On with the quest, as they say. Well, I don't know who says that, but somebody must, mustn't they?” She laughed a little. “Come on, Monk.” She grabbed his arm and began to walk with him up the large stone steps of the Temple of Sin'ra.
The white foal had already started up as well, and Wren looked at Heather who nodded her approval. Wren's heart began to pound faster as the party ascended the steps.
“Do you think we're going to die here, Crasher?” she asked the bear quietly.
“I do not know, mistress. I will protect you if I can.”
“That's not very reassuring, bear,” Tessa said, popping her little head up.
“But it is the truth, mouseling.”
“Thank you both,” said Wren. She started to get tears in her eyes but she blinked them away. She had no idea what was happening next, but somehow she was glad that her life had taken her here, as far away from her past as she thought she could possibly get.
-2-
The inside of the Temple was as dull and uninteresting as the outside. There was a large main hall with a high ceiling that was probably about twenty times the size of Wren's farmhouse. She was surprised at how large the building was inside. The trees had hidden its mass well.
Columns ran from floor to ceiling, but that was about as far as the decoration went. The only light that entered the place came in through a few windows cut into the walls. There were torches in sconces on the walls, but none of them were lit.
Otom stepped forward and pointed at one. It burst into flame. He repeated the same thing with several others. Wren had never seen the powers of a Monk before, and the creation of Fire startled her. Flames were almost always a bad thing back on the farm and her instincts to extinguish them hadn't been diminished from her journey.
The place – empty though it was now - had definitely been used over the ages. Walking paths were worn smooth into the stone floor,
polished by human feet. It only added to the oddity of the place, though, conjuring images of ghosts in Wren's mind.
“Hello!” Raven shouted. Her voice echoed many times, taking at least five heartbeats to die away.
“Quiet, child!” Angloriel scolded her.
“I don't like this,” Krothair said He was tense, his hand on his sword. His eyes scanned the hall nervously.
“Well someone should be here to greet us,” Raven said. “I'm only trying to tell them that we've-”
She was cut off by a scraping sound that chilled Wren.
“Who's there?” Angloriel bellowed, apparently forgetting his earlier warning. His sword was out of its sheath now. It was massively long and heavy-looking, but he held it with ease.
“We're jumping at shadows,” the robed woman said in a whisper.
One of Heather's deer's hooves skittered on the stone floor and then the animal was bolting back out the door, the way she had come in. Wren had just enough time to sense the fear in the animal before it exited. She knew to trust those instincts.
“We should leave,” she said.
“Don't be frightened,” Angloriel said. “Don't you five know what you're supposed to be doing here? Let's get on with it and then we can leave this ghostly place.”
“No, we don't know,” D'Arvenant said, seeming a bit flustered. “This is stupid. Do we need to search? I don't care if we move as an entire awkward group, but we need to find out what's going on in this God-forsaken Temple. I am sorry, Domma.”
The robed woman held her hand up as if to say it was okay.
“Wait,” Krothair said. “Someone's coming.”
He was right. At the opposite end of the hall a figure strode towards them. It was impossible to tell who it was in the light of the torches and small windows, but Wren put her hand on the knife that still hung at her hip.
“I know what you're thinking!” the person called to them.
