No matter what he said to him, though, Stylinor wouldn’t stop or even give a response. He just walked and walked, his eyes seeming not even to focus on the way he was going. Darkness had even settled and still he kept going, leaving Kinimod afraid and hurrying to keep up wit his steady, unyielding pace.
Stylinor was undoubtedly haunted by the thought of his murdered parents lying in their burning house, probably cowering in fear of those terrible creatures that came and killed everyone who was there to be killed. The monsters didn’t even demand anything, just came to kill and plunder their homes. It reminded Sty too much of the a great hunt that he would sometimes see the mighty men of the house of king Bregor of Valdorin perform in the woods where he’d chopped many trees, relentlessly pursuing a stag into the heart of the elder pines. Except in this case he was the stag, and the terrible hunters were those who had come without errand to murder them.
Kini pulled on his arm, and though Sty was momentarily thrown off balance, he still didn’t seem to take notice of him. At last, and with the despairing thought of losing the friend he had grown up with, Kinimod ran ahead of him and fell to his knees in front of him.
“By Hannari’s power, Sty, please don’t give up on me like this!” he practically screamed, and it seemed to have worked; for Stylinor suddenly stopped and looked down at him with a confused expression, as if he had just awoken. “I need you, Sty. You may not have realized it, but I have always needed you. Your parents were practically my own, since my father barely acknowledged my existence, and so I feel the loss just as much as you do... So please, don’t give up. I need you.”
Stylinor blinked and opened his mouth, lips splitting in the frosty air. He felt a hard clench in his stomach finally let free and deep down inside he felt freed from the grief that had so suddenly taken control of him. When he looked at Kinimod he realized that there was still meaning in his life, that there was still something that he needed to do. Kinimod needed him, and Stylinor needed him just as well.
“Oh Kini,” Sty said, falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around the shivering boy, “I’m so sorry! Will you ever forgive me? I’m a fool to have despaired.”
“There’s nothing to forgive you for, Sty,” Kinimod replied, burying his face in the warmth of Sty’s wool coat. He pulled out of the embrace, however, and put his pink hands on the others’ shoulders as he looked him in his grey eyes. “We’ve got to get out of here. If we can find the others who escaped, maybe they’ll have an idea of what to do.”
“Should we go to Valdorin?” Stylinor asked.
Kini shook his head. “I don’t think that’d be the best idea, at least not by way of the road. The creatures – whatever they are – most likely have it patrolled. But we can’t stay out in the cold like this, without any food or means of getting any. That’s why I think we should find others who know the woods and the way to safety, that would be our best bet.”
Stylinor nodded, breathing out puffs of steam. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll follow you this time.”
Padding him on the shoulder, Kini stood and put out his hand and pulled him up onto his feet. “We’ll follow each other, Sty,” he said.
*****
It wasn’t long after they had been on their way again that they spied the orange glow of a campfire through the tall trees. Night was already heavy over the forest, and with the ever increasing cover of the smoke it became exceptionally difficult for them to pick their way through the trees. Both Stylinor and Kinimod feared that the flames that the seeming demons had brought upon the world would catch up to them, and that the forest would burn down around them, leaving them with no escape from its treacherous heat.
They made for the campfire, however, hoping that there was someone there who would take pity on them and not push them away as many of the men of Heinsfar would. But any ridicule from men was probably better than running into a team of the killers... The thought of that gave them a chill, colder than the frosty air already was, and they quickly did their best to put such a thought from their minds.
They had seen what happened to those who fell into the path of the monsters. So many corpses...
They stopped before stepping into the light of the fire. There were three men and one woman, all huddling around the fire as close to the others as they could get, hoping to stay warm and within sight of one another for as long as they could. From the looks of them, Stylinor thought they were terrified of what lingered beyond the light of their fire.
He looked at Kini, who only shrugged, and taking in a breath of cold air he stepped out from the shadows and into their encampment. Kini followed right behind him, and stood just at his shoulder when he stopped.
Two of them got clumsily to their feet, one reaching for his axe and the other drawing his knife from his belt. “Hold it right there,” said the one pointing the knife at them, “What are ye about this time of night?”
“Please, we need food and somewhere safe to stay for the night,” Stylinor said feebly.
They looked at each other and then back at the two boys. “Well,” said the one, “you don’t appear to be a threat. Come and sit down, and try to stay in the light of the fire... Wouldn’t want to end up like Hafflam and Olivia, would you?”
The others made room for them to sit down by the fireside, and the man returned his dagger to his belt before sitting back down again. The other man, however, seemed to hesitate before propping his axe back in place against a tree and sitting down beside the woman.
He watched them suspiciously, never taking his gaze from them, and Sty began to feel uncomfortable under that gaze. He pretended not to notice as he and Kinimod warmed their hands over the fire.
“So, what are yer names and where are ye from?” said the one who had welcomed them to the fireside.
“I’m Kinimod,” said Kini as he continued to rub his hands over the flames, “And this is my friend Stylinor Grylson. Who are ye?”
The man nodded and then pointed across the fire to a young fellow with long blond hair, no beard, and a distracted look about him. “That’s Rothron Haemson,” he said, and Rothron just shrugged at the boys, “And this is Jacque Kiimson,” he said, pointing at the man who kept his eyes on them, but when they looked at him he picked up a stick and prodded at the burning logs, “And I am Sephron Hemrodson.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Kinimod, and he feigned a smile.
Stylinor looked down at the fire, shaking his head. It was a bad attempt at a smile, but none of the burly men seemed to care. They went back to whatever they were doing before, which, by the looks of it, was just sitting and staring – waiting out the dreadful night. But the woman, Sephron hadn’t given her name to them. Why was that? Stylinor wondered, but he didn’t bother venturing to ask.
She clutched at a coat around her shoulders, her fingers pale white like her face and her yellow hair hanging haggardly about her face. Puffs of steam left her mouth as she breathed. Her blue eyes were locked on the fire, and she shivered uncontrollably. Stylinor thought that was strange; despite it being cold he knew that it wasn’t that cold. But again, he didn’t dare speak of his concern. She was most likely suffering from shock, much like he had been just a few moments before.
He turned his thoughts from that memory and tried thinking of other things, things that didn’t involve the happenings of the day. But everything that his thoughts wandered toward all brought him back to death and fire, his burning house...
“What are yer plans of getting yourselves out of here?” Kinimod said, breaking Stylinor’s train of thought. The others, save the woman, looked up at him as if they had just awoken.
“Many men and women have fled south toward the Silver City, hoping the Adya will take them in,” said Sephron. “We’d have half a mind to go that way as well, but the possibility of being taken in after all those people have already gone before us have dwindled exceptionally.”
“Is there any chance getting to Valdorin?” Kini asked.
“Slim chance,” Sephron replied, “but that’s probably our best bet of getting out of this hell.”
“But the road, of course, will be watched,” said Rothron without looking up from the fire.
“Yes, I know that, which is why we’ll have to take a quick detour toward the northwest until we’re clear of the enemies’ passing,” Sephron replied. He sounded impatient all of the sudden, as if they had discussed it a number of times.
“Well,” said Kinimod, “would you mind at all if I and Sty join ye?”
Sephron shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t see why not,” he said.
“Great,” said Kini, “That’d save us a...”
“Wait just a moment!” Jacque interrupted, and he sat upward as he got the four of their attention. Still, the woman would not sway her attention from the fire. “How do we know we can trust these boys who just come wandering out of the woods this late in the night and after all that has just happened? As far as I can tell, you two are nothing but spies of the monsters.”
“Spies?!” said Kini, “now wait just a moment...”
“Now, Jacque, we can’t go there right now,” said Sephron.
“And why is that?” Jacque demanded, and he turned his glare upon the other man. “You’d defend the very danger that’ll cut our throats this night?”
“Calling them spies is completely absurd!” Sephron exclaimed. “Rothron, you don’t suspect them to be on the side of the enemy, do you?”
Rothron put up his pink hands and didn’t look at them, obviously wanting no part in their debate.
However, Sephron turned back to Jacque and persisted in defending the boys. “I say their not spies, Jacque, and so they are not,” he said.
“And who called you to have the authority to say whether someone is a spy or not?” said Jacque, “And don’t say Hafflam and Olivia trusted you. A lot of good that did them...”
“And who told them to stay with the group, Jacque?” Sephron said with intensity in his voice, “Don’t forget that I warned them just as I have warned all of you. Remember that it was I who found you cowering in the hollow of that tree, and when Hafflam didn’t think it a good idea to take another mouth to feed I was determined enough to keep you in the team. I’ll stand by them just as I stood by you.”
With that being said, Jacque seemed to settle down, though he still kept that distrustful eye on the two of them. What was driving this man on? Stylinor thought privately, though he continued to say nothing.
“Well, Sephron, we truly appreciate your efforts,” said Kinimod.
Sephron waved his hand to dismiss the thought. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, “All that matters is we survive this night, differences aside. We have many hours to go yet before dawn is upon us. And with this weather we’ve been having, I doubt we’ll have much of that.”
They all nodded, save the woman, and Stylinor began to keep his eye on her. Shock indeed, he thought, I wonder what happened to you... but he still said nothing about the woman or about anything at all. All he wanted was to sleep by the warmth of this fire, forgetting the horror of the day. But with the way Jacque kept glancing his way, he feared he’d get none of that.
It was a long night before morning came, and when the sun was supposed to have risen they were welcomed by smoke and the heat of an ever growing fire.
Chapter 13
A Wretched Fool
Duoreod and Andril walked among the camps of the men of Heinsfar just outside the walls of the Silver City, small fires encircled by families or groups of friends, each trying to stay warm in the chill of the midwinter night. The Adya had given them all that they had, from spare blankets to spare rooms in their houses and citadels, but there wasn’t enough room in the grand city for so many of the people who had successfully fled from the terror that had struck them in their own land. Many had died on the way, their bodies lying on the road to Valdorin and even Hemingway. None dared to go back in search of friends or family who had gone missing on the way.
Few would speak of what had happened in the forests, what had pursued them from their homes all the way to the Silver City. But those who did would tremble as they recalled beings of darkness and shadow, striking them with fear even at the very sight of them, and that they just slaughtered those who could not escape.
The description of their appearance seemed to relate to that of the infected creature they had found in the Milstrom’s dungeon below the city, and that, above all that he had learned that day, disturbed Duoreod the most.
He folded his arms as he came to the edge of the encampments of the suffering people, and turning round he looked across them all to the walls of the Silver City. The once shining walls were already beginning to dim beneath the shadow growing in the west, slowly consuming the land in darkness, stealing hope from the souls of men just as well as the light.
“I’m afraid, Andril,” Duoreod said as he and the kings smith looked over their land. “I know it’s not something I’d usually say, though I have felt the emotion many times in past adventures and times of trial. I think I have just put off the desire to admit it until now. This time is different, I guess.”
Andril sighed and rested his fists on his hips, looking from Duoreod and at the scattered campfires of the people before them. “Different,” he said with a puff of steam from his mouth, “How is this any different than what we’ve dealt with in the past. The men of Valdorin and Hemingway have always fled to our gates in times of trial like this, when all odds are against them. You must remember that, and you must also remember that we’d always be able to solve whatever problem it was.”
“It’s not the situation this time as much as it is the feeling that I get when I look at them,” Duoreod said slowly. “I almost feel... guilty; as if all of this is somehow my fault.”
“That’d ridiculous,” said Andril, “How could this be your fault? What could have possibly put that into your mind?”
“That’s what I don’t understand, and what I don’t understand is often the cause of my troubles, Andril.” Duoreod looked at the Adian, the friend he had always known he could trust.
Andril just scratched his head in uncomfortable thought, trying to come up with another reason why Duoreod’s thought were completely unnecessary. That was what he was supposed to do, right? But not this time… maybe this time he just needed to hear what the heir of the Silver City and the noble Adya had to say, and not point out the foolishness of it.
“Alright,” Andril said with a sigh, as if releasing his worries from his mind, “Talk to me Duoreod. What is going on that makes you think this is all somehow your fault?”
Duoreod turned back to the quiet scene before them, flickering campfires dancing beneath shining stars. “Well, there’s been a lot on my mind ever since... Ah, it pains my heart to speak of it! You know what I mean, don’t you?” he said, and looked at him with a painful expression.
Andril put up his hands. “Actually, sire, I have no idea,” he said. However, he had a pretty good idea what it was that was putting stress on his mind, the whole kingdom could probably know, but he knew that Duoreod needed to speak it sometime or another.
Duoreod sighed, steam puffing out in front of him, and looked up at the starlit sky. Wisps of smoke were already rising over them, but not enough yet to block out the nighttime light. “Diamoad, the war between us for those many years, everything wrong that has ever happened in my life... I should have just listened to my father when he suggested I leave him alone, but what he did to me... it was unforgiveable. But how could I have expected him to forgive me for what I had done? How could anything ever have been right between us? I should have loved him as a brother! Now, when I look back, I realize that he was just competition.” He hid his face in his hands, then, and seemed to weep quietly. “Oh Andril, how can I ever forgive myself for the great evil I have done? I fear my soul will never rest, and that even in the end, when at last the end has come, I will still be haunted by my life...”
You wretched fool,
Andril thought as he looked at the poor Adian prince. He wanted to speak logically to him, but his better judgment told him that no good would come of it. So instead of speaking he put out his hand and laid it on the shoulder of the prince, offering a prayer to Muari the Beloved.
“I spend my life trying to do good to these people, hoping that I might makeup for the years that I had neglected them,” Duoreod continued. He looked up and back at the city gates, closed to the night.
“The Beloved has always beheld thee with love, Duoreod, and I believe that he always will,” said Andril.
Duoreod turned to the Adya, brushing his hand from his shoulder. “And if he has what of Hannari and Gusharri, or Olymarri and Fallari?” he said, naming four of the seven First Born, fearing to speak the names of the two others. “If there are truly such beings as these, who claim to be guardians over the universe, than where have they been? I have called to them day and night, and no matter how fierce my cry they have never come to comfort me.”
Andril frowned as he saw the bitterness in Duoreod’s eyes. “You’re in denial, Duoreod, and you’ll come out of it in time,” he said.
“No, Andril, I am alone in this,” Duoreod replied evenly, and this time instead of looking back at the people he turned round and gazed into the darkness before them, thinking that he could make out the orange flames of the fire on the horizon of the Hilled Valley. “I must go into this storm and discover the truth of it for myself. I do not ask you to go with me, but I go whether you follow or not.”
“What will your father say?” Andril asked as he saw the gleam of determination in Duoreod’s eye. “Think of the king Duoreod, and the whole kingdom. What if you were to fall because of this?”
“From what I can see, Andril, the whole world is falling anyway,” Duoreod said, and with that he turned about and began making his way back through the encampments.
War of Shadow and Light: Part Three of the Redemption Cycle Page 7