by Paul Yoder
A long while went by, and slowly, some left back to the campsite. Only Malagar and Fin remained when Malagar broke the silence to say his peace.
Kneeling down beside the shallow grave covered with slate, Malagar offered a parting prayer.
“You’ve taken on many wayward souls throughout your years. I’m glad you took me on right at the end of your time. If I had not had you, Cray, Wyld, and Hamui to take me in once I was cast from the monastery…” he left off, stopping himself from continuing that line of thought, wanting instead to leave his old master with positive feelings of hope and renewed purpose instead of lingering on thoughts of what might have been.
“Lucky we are to walk this land, and you were blessed to walk it many days, inspiring the best out of others, helping forge wisdom out of youth.
“Within the days I still have left, I swear to do what I can to follow in your footsteps. I will aid in what ways I am capable in the war against this arisen threat, and then I will mentor others, like myself, who are lost and seeking guidance. I will strive to be that stabilizing figure for those that need it. An anchor point for those lost in the storm.”
Malagar bowed his head, saying his goodbye to his old master. He looked to Fin, nodded his condolences, and headed back to camp.
Fin waited until Malagar was out of earshot, then approached the grave and sat down next to it, letting out a tired sigh as he clutched at his painfully hot wounds Malagar had helped clean and mend the night before.
He looked out over the Canyonlands before them. The view was a nice one. It was high up, allowing them a clear view of the vista of the foothills below. Though they couldn’t see Brigganden from there, he knew it to be close by, just around the bend—he had seen the dim glow of it the night before.
“For once, I’m going to talk to you and you’re not going to berate me in reply,” Fin said, adding as a thought came to him, “Though, if you did reply, I’d only be so surprised. Always had to have the last quippy word in.”
A bluebird swooped in, landing on the yucca bush next to them, bobbing its head this way and that, inspecting Fin and the grave.
“You’ll have company here, looks like. The birds seem to like this spot—”
Fin choked up, not being able to continue his line of conversation with his deceased friend. Wiping his eyes dry, he looked back over the morning mountain scene, silently reflecting on his long-time mentor.
“Ghaa,” Fin grunted out, “Cavok ain’t going to forgive me for letting you die on my shift. Can’t imagine how he’s going to take the news.”
He sat in silence for a minute, letting his thoughts and memories drift as they pleased.
“Ol’ Mal there was way better at this,” he laughed through some tears, wiping his face once more.
“Well, guess that’s why I waited till everyone left to do this. But…just wanted to tell you, Matt, to say it out loud to you once. I know we’ve had our fights and all, but no matter how mad I ever got with you—you were like a father to me—”
He choked up again, this time not being able to regain his voice. Letting out a few more tears before getting to his feet, he looked upon Matt’s gravesite once more, imprinting its location mentally so that he might be able to find it again someday; then, with a heart as heavy as he had ever felt it, holding his throbbing shoulder, he headed back down the cliffside to the others.
The little bluebird watched as Fin walked away, cocking its head sideways as he left, perching on the yucca branch until a grub crawled by. Swooping down, snatching it up, it flew up the cliffside overwatching the grove to its nest, feeding what it had to its little ones as the morning sun rose higher in the sky.
The camp was dour and quiet upon Fin’s return, and Yozo, though respectful to Matt’s passing, was packed, ready to head out, and Fin suspected, not in company with them.
“Yozo, you leaving us?” Fin asked, voice clearly expressing how drained he was from the sleepless night to just burying a dear friend.
Looking off over the canyonlands below them, Yozo turned back and nodded.
“You have a mission before you, as do I. Both of us serve justice in our own ways, this I see now. I respect the sacrifice you lot are making for your land.”
Fin let Yozo finish, but replied, disappointment in his voice, “Justice? Is that what we’re doing in confronting the arisen? I don’t know, maybe. It’s a good cause I think, a noble one enough to die for.
“We’re grateful for your help last night, but you…what is it that you’re off to do? Are you off to kill Nomad? You think that’s the work of justice? That’s the work of revenge. They’re not one in the same, Yozo. What you’re doing is selfish.
“If you were a worthless vagabond, maybe I wouldn’t care so much that you’re wasting your skill, but I’ve seen your skill with the blade. This land could use your talent—we could use your talent. You could make a big difference in many lives—what a waste.”
Fin turned to consider the other three who had paused while packing their things to listen to the reprimand. They all were tired, none of them getting sleep the night before, which made the quiet moment all the more morose.
Yozo had listened, though his back was turned. He stood there long after Fin’s reproach, contemplating the roads before him.
“Yozo,” Malagar called, stepping up beside him after a time, “Matt saw something in you. He’s—well—was good at that. Though he was blind, he had a way of seeing past all the trappings the others get hung up on. He could tell the worth of a person better than anyone I’ve known. He wouldn’t have allowed you to come along with us unless he approved of your company. There’s something pure and strong in you.
“I don’t know much of this grudge you hold for this Nomad, but what I have come to know is that the arisen that we fought last night, and the army that sent it to us, they will obliterate countless villages and peaceful peoples in Tarigannie and beyond if someone doesn’t step up to stop them.
“I see now why Matt went along with Fin here, and I see now that you have a caring soul. You stayed and fought by our side, even though you did not have to. You owed us nothing, yet you risked your life in our defense.
“I don’t know who you have as family, as comrades, but you have forged strong bonds between us last night. I for one, would be honored to have your company.”
Yozo stood there, obviously mulling over the words and offer being presented, but giving them no indication on his standing. He slowly started walking, picking up pace as he headed down the cliffside, making his way out of the Imhotez mountains.
“It was worth a try, Mal,” Fin said, coming over to the group of friends. “Though, I had my doubts about him from the start. Grudges can be hard to shake.”
Hamui cinched up his sack, hefting his travel gear as the four of them allowed the peacefully quiet morning to roll by for a moment.
“Where to then?” Fin asked, knowing hints at Malagar’s direction, though needing confirmation rather than assuming the man’s intent.
“Indeed, where to,” Malagar echoed in a mournful tone, hinting at more than just the question of physical direction.
“Cray and Matt are dead—as well as Dubix, presumably. Our rudders broke,” Hamui mumbled in an unusually somber voice. Never had Fin seen Hamui reverenced.
“Wyld, you’ve been through more than most of us over the last few days. Do you have thoughts on where to go, what to do next?” Malagar asked, so tired he seemed out of breath.
The kaith sniffed the air, looking over the vista as she considered a response, lifting her lip to rub a tongue across her missing fang that was now either deeply embedded in Malagar’s arm, or somewhere in the dirt along the cliffside.
“This one,” she said, pointing at Fin, “knows the stratagem of my captor. I intend to murder Denloth for what he did to me. You will help us plan an attack.”
Fin, somewhat amused by the order, held back his smirk and replied, “I’m going after D
enloth and his master regardless of being joined by you three, but if you would accompany me, well—” he sighed, “I would not hesitate to accept the help.”
Malagar came out of his thoughts, looking to Fin. “Recovering Wyld was the main reason Matt brought us here, but I believe it was his intent to do what could be done to foil the arisen’s plans. And as it was Matt’s last undertaking in life, I’d like to honor him by continuing his mission and see it fulfilled, as much as I am able. Perhaps that will give me a measure of closure on the subject,” he said, somewhat frustrated, adding, “I don’t know, I’m still at a loss with how things unraveled last night. One thing I know is that I agree with Wyld. Denloth cannot go unanswered for what he did to us. I usually do not promote reprisal, but he will hurt and kill others. He needs to be stopped.”
“What about you, Hamui?” Fin asked, seeing now that the other two were set on sticking it through with him, even if their motivations were different, their goals aligning.
“You all for murdering that arisen bastard?” Hamui said, looking up at them all, no humor at all in his countenance. “Then, count me in.”
“Well, Matt trusted you all enough to take you on as students. I’ll do my best to get us close to Denloth to take him out. He does seem to be a big player in the arisen’s forces, though the real threat is his master, the arisen lord, but with him, we don’t stand a chance at assassinating, so we’ll focus on Denloth—for now.
“I have connections of some renown. Sooner or later, I need to contact them and share the info we’ve gathered thus far. I suspect that’s going to be the most useful thing we do out here on our own, but if we can take Denloth out, as far as I’m concerned, mission success.
“I guess we have plenty of time on the road to discuss the particulars of these matters, but I think step one would be to leave this place, just in case Denloth sends any other scouts to finish the mark he placed on us. Once out of these mountains, perhaps restocking and mending at Brigganden briefly, I say we once again approach their camp and establish a plan from there to catch Denloth vulnerable and separate from the aid of the army.”
The three stared at Fin, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he had said something to lose the three’s confidence.
“Well, get packed then. We’re waiting on you,” Hamui piped, hefting his rucksack, indicating to Fin’s things still scattered about the camp.
“I—” a quiet voice called from down the way, Yozo walking back into the clearing, “will lend my sword to your cause…for now.”
The foreigner’s return heartened Malagar greatly, and Hamui and Wyld seemed pleased. Fin seemed perplexed by the return of the swordsman, but shaking off his bemusement, he jumped to gather his things, seeing that everyone was waiting on him to head out, adding, a welcomed smile now forming, “Sure beats taking on the undead army all on my own.”
49
Darkness Upon the Horizon
They moved while we were in Brig that week. I don’t know if we spurred them into action, or they had plans to pack camp and move the army regardless, but the arisen are on the move.
We needed the recovery time, though, no way around it. Some of us were in bad shape—myself probably most of all. My wounds were cleaned, properly sutured, and are mending well enough. It will be many months before a full recovery though, and I’ll be forced to watch myself, especially that right shoulder.
Brig sure has changed. Sure, a lot of the same people came back, but there’s a new order there. Some stray sect of Elendium. They don’t tolerate any slipups from out-of-towners, so we followed their decrees to the tittle while there. Making a note of that though in case we happen back sometime in the future.
Mal still has troubles with his arm. The Seam has entered his body through Wyld’s tooth, which was never found or extracted. He has been lost in meditation more and more these days. I don’t know much of the matter, but I sense the Seam is calling once more to him. Perhaps it is what the fates have in store for him—an unescapable draw or an endpoint from all converging possible paths he might take in this life.
Wyld has had troubles with the Seam touch, more so than Mal. His is mostly a numbness and chill, but her—she’s been blinking in and out of sanity since that night. Though I don’t know her well, Hamui and Mal both tell me that this is not normal for her. She’s becoming estranged to reality, and her friends that she’s known for years. Some days are worse than others. We will continue to keep an eye on her. Heaven forbid that she forgets one day who we are and if we’re friends or enemies. And this is all not mentioning the strange—unweaving—of her scars at times. We’re not even sure if she will be able to physically hold herself together for much longer. It is not looking good for her, to be frank.
Hamui, he’s been grumbling about, well, everything, but I’m beginning to understand him a bit better over the last week of travel.
Then there’s Yozo. He reminds me a lot of Nomad, though if I were to tell that to him, he’d likely kill me for even thinking such a thought. He does not talk much, but I did ask him why he returned to us that day. He said that he realized there’s nothing, no one, for him out there. He was walking away from the only meaningful connection he’s had in years and that, likely what Matt and I argued with him earlier about, once he killed Nomad, the empty void would still be there. He thinks that the cause we are engaged in is an honorable one, one that he could see his younger self being easily swept up in; and he figures, at this point, his younger self seems like the better judge of right and wrong.
He decided he’d give us a chance to prove his original outlook wrong, but not to get too comfortable with his alliance as he alluded to still being undecided on the matter. It’s the best outcome we could have hoped for, I guess. Regardless, having his sword on our side is a godsend. I would hate to have to square off with him otherwise!
We are investigating the Dolinger Crags on the morrow. The army went in, and I see no easy exit for such a large troop. Perhaps it is their intent to establish a war base there. It has its strategic flaws, but it is as central as they will get to Rochata-Ung without being easily detected with the size of an army as they have.
However it turns out, it is our intent to survey their whereabouts tomorrow and see if it is possible to locate Denloth. The boys are itching for his head. I have doubts that we’re up to the task. I’ve got a bad feeling about that one.
I…still often think of Matt’s end. Often have I lost friends, but it’s been a while since I’ve lost family.
The clouds blazed orange on the horizon over the vast chasm before them. The sun, Phosphorus, was halfway set, lighting half of the sky, as Kale, the moon, hovered above it, lit clearly for them to appreciate.
“Dolinger Crags is called that for a reason, you know,” Hamui grumped, sharing his people’s distaste for the large, aggressive animals. They had, after all, been known to devour more than a few praven.
“I doubt even the dolingers are willing to come out of their canyon holes to scavenge while the arisen are nearby,” Wyld solemnly said, her eyes fixed on something deep in the crags.
Fin watched as the sun vanished amidst heat waves along the horizon and uttered, “Well, at daybreak, we’ll find out if that is true. I doubt traveling under the cover of darkness will do anything to further conceal us, at least according to what I gleaned from Dubix—while he was with us.”
“We gonna kill that fucker tomorrow?” Hamui bluntly asked.
Fin replied in an uneasy voice, “We’re going to survey the situation tomorrow, get what info we can about their battle readiness, size, and who and where their leaders are stationed. Once we have something to go off of, we can make plans from there. I’m not committing to throwing ourselves hopelessly at them if there isn’t a valid path to an assassination.”
He could feel their readiness to slaughter the one that was responsible for the murder of their friends, and he could understand their position, him being in their shoes not but a year pri
or to, but he knew they stood very little chance at cleanly taking Denloth out, and stood a very good chance of all of them being killed if they ran in there recklessly as he could feel they wanted to do. What they needed right now was a bit of temperance and cunning.
“It’s been a long day of travel,” Malagar offered, breaking the tension. “Might be best if we all got a good night’s rest and turned in early. There can be no room for slip-ups tomorrow.”
Fin was grateful for the suggestion, voicing his agreeance, moving to help set up camp, asking who wanted to take first watch as the night began.
“Who’s that?” Wyld asked, everyone stopping what they were doing to notice the armored group leisurely approaching them.
“Who is that, indeed,” Fin breathed under his breath. The pace upon which the group approached did not bespeak danger to them and their little band, and a company so well outfitted more than likely would not be interested in robbing them. He put his things down and moved to greet the travelers, everyone else following Fin’s lead.
They approached slowly, and as they got closer, both groups sized each other up.
Eleven females, all but three clad in heavy armor, rode on horseback towards them. With their helmets off, Fin could see they all had platinum hair, and each wore a banner or sigil of some sort to signify their code.
“I know that sign,” Fin announced as they approached within earshot, the lead woman in robes taking point, pulling up short of Fin, horse flank exposed as she inspected him.
“What’s a detachment of saren knights doing all the way out here? I have a hunch, but...” Fin trailed off, waiting for the older saren’s response.
“We are not so well known throughout these lands that any commoner would know of our order’s sign. Who are you, and how do you know of the saren’s?”
