Parabolis

by Eddie Han

  “Yeah. But it itches like nothing else.”

  Valkyrie held up two little mushrooms. “Do you know that it’s because of these little things that I’m stuck here with you?” he asked of Alaric Linhelm. In one hand, he held an elf ear. In the other, he held a karis truffle. “Can you tell the difference? No, you can’t. You know why? Because there is none.”

  “Swindling is swindling.”

  “You want to talk about swindling, talk about the snake-oil salesmen who push this nonsense…”

  They carried on bickering like they were old men with nothing else to do. Across from them, Selah sat beside Dale.

  “So how far north do you plan to go?” Dale asked her.

  “Valorcourt,” Selah replied.

  “Valorcourt? What for?”

  “Alaric and I intend to make an appeal for peace to the duke.”

  “And why would he listen to you?”

  “We’re the only two Baleans represented in the Benesanti.” She sighed. “It is difficult to believe that an appeal will accomplish anything. I cannot imagine the duke listening to us. But we must do something.”

  “What do you plan to say to him?”

  “‘Stop this nonsense, right now.’”

  Dale smiled at her attempt at humor.

  “I don’t know,” Selah continued. “I think Champion Linhelm will do most of the talking. We have plenty of time to think about it.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Dale noticed her saber.

  “You know how to use that thing?” he asked as he tapped its handle.

  “I wouldn’t be carrying it otherwise.”

  “Never heard of a cleric that swings a sword.”

  “What about you? You seemed reluctant to use yours back there.”

  “Didn’t get a chance to, thanks to the ranger. But you’re right. I’ve used this thing enough as a Guardsman.”

  “Do you believe in the sanctity of life then?”

  “Not sure what I believe. But yeah, I didn’t much like killing anyone. Doesn’t it bother you—all that death back there?”

  “By the Maker’s grace, I have never had to use the blade so I can’t speak for taking a life. But death is nothing new to me. As a cleric, I’ve seen many depart this world for the next.”

  Alaric stood and walked a stone’s throw away from camp.

  “Where’s he going?” asked Dale.

  “To pray.”

  Across the fire, Charles Valkyrie was already fast asleep.

  “Your brother—the one you seek at the Ancile—he’s also a Republican Guard?” Selah asked in a hushed voice.

  “Yeah. He was transferred around the time I was decommissioned.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “Older.”

  “Are you close?”

  Dale frowned. “Close enough to have our disagreements and still get along. You? You have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I was an only child. What’s your brother’s name?”

  “Darius.”

  “Well, Darius will be in my prayers. I can see you’re burdened for him.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Despite the sincerity of his words, Selah could sense Dale’s skepticism.

  “You don’t believe in the Maker, do you?” she asked.

  “Like I said, not sure what I believe about anything. I believe I’m here with you. And I believe I need to find Darius. That’s about all I can manage right now.”

  Alaric returned to camp. As he walked past, he said, “You two should get some sleep.”

  “I would, but it’ll be the end of me if I fall asleep with wet hair,” Selah replied. “Can’t afford a cold while trekking the Wilds, can I?”

  “You won’t fare any better fatigued. Get some rest.”

  Alaric Linhelm lay down next to the fire and crossed his arms. In a matter of seconds, he was snoring.

  “Incredible,” said Dale.

  “What’s that?”

  “How he can fall asleep like that. Guess it’s true. A clear conscience is the best nightcap.”

  “And how’s your conscience?”

  “I’ll keep you company until your hair dries.”

  They sat quietly listening to the popping of the campfire. In the background, they could hear the distant roar of the ocean. Dale looked up at the glowing ceiling of leaves. There was a full moon out. A harvest moon, hidden somewhere beyond the veil. The scent of the salted air made him miss home. He wished he had a smoke.

  “You know, I’m glad that kid pick-pocketed me,” he then said.

  “Oh? And why’s that?”

  “When I first saw you on the Groveland Express, the day I came into the city from Pharundelle, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. In fact, the whole ride from Lumarion, I was trying to come up with some clever way to talk to you. But nothing came to mind. And when I got off that train, I thought that was the end of it. I’d never see you again. Then that kid stole my coin purse and…” Dale glanced at Selah and couldn’t ignore her expression. With every word, she appeared to grow increasingly dejected. For weeks he had fantasized about telling her exactly how he felt. He imagined many scenarios, but her dejection was not one of them. “I’m sorry, is this inappropriate?”

  “No,” Selah replied, trying to perk up. “I’m sorry. No, it’s not inappropriate. It’s just—”

  “Is it because you’re a cleric?”

  “Don’t be absurd. We’re encouraged to exercise temperance, obviously, but that doesn’t mean we’re forbidden from romantic relationships.”

  “Is that what this is? A bit forward of you, don’t you think, Prioress?”

  She smiled. Selah had a look that was both vexed and flattered. “It upsets me because I’m flattered that you find me attractive.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “We hardly know each other. And you just think I’m a pretty face. That’s it. I shouldn’t be thrilled by that. So it’s disappointing that I am.”

  “I can always take it back.”

  “No, you can’t.” She laughed.

  Dale looked at her and thought she looked more beautiful right then than he had ever seen her. “In that case, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  “And what, exactly, is it that you want to know?”

  “Anything. Everything. Where did you grow up? What were your parents like? Did you always want to become a cleric or did you lose a bet?”

  “I don’t gamble. I grew up all over, from Valorcourt to Trinsington to Lumarion. As for my parents, I don’t know much about my father and I lost my mother when I was young. I was sent to the temple orphanage under the care of the College of Sisters. When I turned sixteen, I felt that it was my calling to go into service of the order that looked after me. So here I am. Satisfied?”

  “How did you lose your mother?”

  Selah’s shoulders curled and she looked away.

  “She was killed.”

  Despite his piqued curiosity, Dale could tell by Selah’s curt reply, bare of an explanation, that she did not want to talk about it. Fearing her precipitous withdrawal from their conversation, Dale quickly volunteered his own past. “I never knew my mother. She died on the delivery table while giving birth to me. From what I hear, she was a good woman. And my father passed away a little less than two years ago from heart failure. I was still on tour so I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

  “I’m sorry.

  Dale shrugged. “We weren’t very close. I mean, I know he loved us and everything, but he was distant. Sad.”

  Selah studied Dale under the soft light. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Seems we share that much. A bit of sorrow in our story.”

  “Yeah.” Dale smirked. Returning her gaze, he said, “See? I feel like we know each other a little better now and I still think you’re beautiful.”

  She shook her head, smiling, and finally surrendered. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”r />
  Then she abruptly stood, stretched, and dusted off her bottom.

  “It’s quite amazing, isn’t it?” she asked, looking up at the green ceiling above. “All of this. Strange, really. Never could have imagined a place like this actually existed.”

  “Yeah. It is pretty amazing.”

  A thin layer of fog-like dust had settled in around them.

  “You ever see the World’s End?” she asked, looking down at Dale with a glint in her eye.

  “Only on a map.”

  “It’s a terrible shame to be so close and not see it.” Her voice had now taken on a playful tone.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Shall we, then?”

  “What, you want to go see it?”

  Selah nodded with an intrepid smile.

  “Now?”

  “My hair’s still wet.”

  Dale shrugged. “Okay.”

  With an eye on Alaric, they quietly climbed the embankment like mischievous children. A ten-minute stroll through columns of Skywards, and the canopy above showed signs of thinning. Then the sky opened up. A dark blue sky sprinkled with stars. A haze had settled on the ground of the forest like morning mist. The ocean grew louder.

  “Come on!” said Selah, taking Dale by the hand.

  They ran against the breeze and stopped just shy of the cliff’s edge. Some two hundred feet down the ocean lashed into the base of the cliff. They stood, side by side in silence, still holding hands. Selah was beaming. At the World’s End, they were children again—vulnerable and free, without pretense or doubt. And the world was as it should be.

  “Did you know, according to the scriptures, humanity was born of the Maker’s kiss?” Selah asked.

  Dale gave her hand a gentle tug. She looked at him and their eyes locked. His heart racing, he leaned over slowly enough to give her time to pull away. She didn’t. She closed her eyes and they kissed.

  CH 37

  THE SERMON IN THE MUD

  On their walk back, Dale and Selah noticed that the fog had grown thicker. They thought nothing of it until the earth below their feet began to shift.

  “The ground is moving,” said Selah.

  “You feel it too?”

  When they arrived back at camp, they found Valkyrie and Alaric awake, and busily moving about. The fire was put out and the camp packed up. Their eyes were wide and their pupils dilated. Alaric looked panicked. And Valkyrie stood, just staring at his hands.

  “Where were you?” Alaric barked at Selah.

  “We went to see the World’s End,” Selah replied. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry,” Valkyrie replied, looking up. “It’s the spores. Of all the luck.”

  “What spores?”

  “The kind that make you go mad. Grab your things. The longer we stay…the longer we stay…wait, did I just say that?” Valkyrie shook his head and started rubbing his eyes. “Hurry! I’m starting to see things.”

  “Me too,” said Selah.

  Dale looked at her and saw a halo radiating from her skin. He was beginning to feel dizzy. As he gathered his things, it felt as if time had slowed. His short-term memory became spotty and everything felt like a disconnected set of snapshots.

  Ever since entering the Wilds Deep, they had been exposed to its perils. The effects of the spores were so subtle that they had gone undetected until it was too late. If Valkyrie had not been there to guide them, the party would not have known to run back into the Wilds. Alaric lumbered behind Valkyrie with his eyes fixed on his heels. Selah and Dale trailed close behind. Once they passed the east-leaning trees, the mist was thin. They kept running until Alaric was convinced the vines were swallowing him up.

  “Maker save us! We’ve fallen under a curse!” he cried.

  Then he collapsed where he stood and fell unconscious.

  Valkyrie stopped and looked up into the exposed sky. He mumbled like a madman as if trying to solve some algorithmic equation.

  “Are we safe?” asked Dale, immediately wondering if the question had escaped his lips. When no one replied, he resolved he’d only thought it. His legs were heavy. So were his eyelids. He looked at Selah. She was already asleep. It was the last thing he saw, the last thing he remembered when he woke up the next morning.

  Everyone else was still lying awkwardly where they fell on a bed of wild vegetation. Valkyrie had fallen asleep sitting up, with his legs crossed in front of him and his head hanging over his lap.

  The first to rise, Dale began to rustle the others awake. Slowly, everyone came to. They were groggy as if coming out of a drug-induced slumber. Even awake, they moved about in a daze. They managed to eat their morning rations. As their minds cleared, they tried to understand the previous night’s experience.

  “So what happened?” asked Dale.

  “The toxic mist,” Valkyrie replied. “There’s a reason why they say the Wilds Deep is more treacherous than the Wilds. Once a month, all those mushrooms release their poisonous spores. No way of knowing exactly when. Some luck we have to camp on that day. Any longer and it would’ve been the end of us. Thank the Champ he took a piss when he did.”

  Selah shot Alaric a bemused look.

  “I woke up to relieve myself and felt inebriated,” the ex-templar explained. “Something I’m sensitive to since I’ve not imbibed a drop since taking my oath. I assumed it was the result of our rations so I woke the ranger.”

  As the talk continued, Dale sat silently, wondering if the kiss had been poison induced. He remembered that before telling Selah how he felt about her, he had not given it any thought. It just flowed out of his mouth. There were no nerves, no second-guessing. He had been strangely calm. The more Dale thought about it, the more convinced he became that he had not been acting himself the night before. He looked over at Selah to see if there were any signs from her. She was fixed on Valkyrie and Alaric’s talk about the mushrooms.

  “Strange night, huh?” Dale asked, fishing for a sign.

  “Yes, very.”

  There was no inflection in Selah’s voice. No twinkle in the eye. Nothing to indicate that anything lingered from what had happened the night before. She was back to her guarded, distant self—the proper, disciplined cleric. Even though Selah gave Dale no encouragement to pursue it, he could not let it lie in suspended ambiguity.

  “About what happened last night, at the World’s End—”

  “The spores,” said Selah. “Clearly I wasn’t myself. None of us were.”

  And that was that. There was nothing more to discuss. “Right, that’s what I thought. Glad we could clear that up.”

  Whatever it was, whatever it could have been had come to an abrupt end before it started. Good, thought Dale. I’ve got to get to Darius. Those mushrooms made me stupid. What were you thinking anyway? There’s no time to be playing with a girl in the woods.

  In the ensuing days, Dale kept a distance from Selah. He occupied himself with the thought of getting to Darius. He stuck close to the ranger, watching and learning. Charles Valkyrie’s vast and detailed knowledge of the Wilds impressed Dale. Valkyrie knew by sight, which fruits were edible, which were not. He knew which plants were poisonous and which were useful for different medicinal purposes. Dale asked him questions about shelter, plotting a course, how to find water, and how to trap game. With nothing else to do but walk, Valkyrie eagerly instructed his new apprentice. Without Valkyrie, the party would have been hopelessly lost, starved, and dangerously exposed to the elements.

  “How long you been doing this?” asked Dale.

  “Living in the Wilds? About ten years,” Valkyrie replied.

  “Must be freeing. No accountability or obligations, no attachments to anything or anyone.”

  “That’s the very definition of loneliness, kid. When no one expects anything of you, you’ve done it—you’re completely alone.”

  “Doesn’t sound so bad.”

  Valkyrie stopped as they came to a steep, muddy incline. “It’s no way to live. Trust me.” T
hen he looked back at Selah and Alaric. “Get your boots strapped in tight. It’s going to get messy.”

  As they labored up the trail, Valkyrie continued. “The way I see it, we’re social creatures. We’re meant to be dependent. Without other people, it’s easy to lose your grip on reality. Why do you think prisons use prolonged isolation as a form of punishment? It’s mental subjugation. People like me, we’re either looking for something or running from something.”

  Dale heard a piece of himself in the statement. He didn’t like what he heard. When he beat up Marcus Addy, his father had told him that he should have run. When things got to where he couldn’t deal with it anymore, Dale had left the Republican Guard. And back in Carnaval City, he had forfeited his childhood dreams of sailing the Amaranthian Sea to settle on a life at the breaker.

  “And what are you running from, ranger?” asked Alaric, having eavesdropped on their conversation. “What do you seek?”

  Valkyrie chuckled. “It doesn’t matter. Because I already know that whatever I look for, I’m never going to find it. And whatever you run from, it’ll eventually catch up to you. It always does.”

  “Perhaps you’re looking for the wrong thing,” said Alaric.

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps life is a ruse. A losing game. And the sooner we understand that, the sooner we can learn to cope.”

  “The wisdom of a cynic is despair,” said Alaric. “But hope comes from the Maker.”

  “The Maker.” Valkyrie snickered. “Where is this Maker now? Where has he been all these years of suffering?”

  “The world is not so simple. You know this.”

  “I also know that there is no Maker. And thus, with him no hope.”

  “You can dismiss the existence of God. You’ve worked to rid yourself of your need for him. But for those of whom you speak—the suffering—hope is all they have. They believe there is something greater, someone who will deliver them. This resilient hope, the will to live, speaks of something beyond what we see.”

  “It’s called instinct. Look, if God exists, he’s negligent at best, cruel at worst. And until he can prove otherwise, the world and its history attests to that fact.”