The young man felt that, at one time, the chamber must truly have been a work of art. Even in its broken and battered state, there was still something beautiful about it. The undead had done what they could to destroy it, to corrupt it beyond salvation, but they had failed. Now, the walls that once sheltered the dead would stand guard over the living. What had once been a place of death and despair would be a haven of life and hope. That thought made Paul smile. Their enemies were both powerful and terrible, but they could be overcome, they could be defeated.
This room, which just hours before had been pulsating with dark power, was now filled only with peace and tranquility. Paul still sensed the presence of evil and corruption, but it felt distant and feeble, and seemed to be entirely confined to the chapel. He would purify that chamber as soon as he had the strength but, for the moment, he would have to be satisfied with the fact that the sanctified ground would protect them from whatever might still be haunting the catacombs.
Paul and his companions did their best to make the handful of women and children who first crept cautiously into the room as comfortable as possible. After a brief discussion with the mothers, they decided to make bedding their immediate concern. It would be difficult, if not impossible, for them to sleep comfortably on the cold stone floor. This problem, however, was easily addressed.
For the time being, the sacks of grain - which Thaelen had ordered carried inside as soon as they arrived - would serve them as both food and beds. Although it certainly wasn't a permanent solution, it would give them the time they needed to come up with something better. The more comfortable they could make everyone, the easier it would be to keep up morale - which was critically important under the circumstances.
Whereas many of the mothers had been distracted by the work of getting things arranged for themselves and their offspring, Paul noticed that most of the children remained huddled quietly around the fire. It was obvious that they were frightened, perhaps even terrified, by the thought of spending the night in a formally haunted tomb. He certainly didn't blame them. Before he had been summoned to Zanoth, he had always found the idea of undead horrors rather creepy. It was just that constantly killing them had left him a little jaded. Still, that was a mental defense these children didn't have. Something had to be done.
The paladin approached the fire with a wide smile, feeling that the first order of business would be to distract them. To that end, he began making humorous shadow puppets on the wall - which was something he was actually rather skilled at due to hours of practice when the internet had been down. The younger children quickly joined in the game, doing their best to make butterflies and camels.
After several minutes of this, a few of the older children implored him to tell them a story. They wanted to hear about how he had come from Earth and killed Lord Telraen. Paul thought it would probably be a good idea to humor them. After all, it was a tale of the living overcoming the dead, which would be good for them to hear, especially considering the fact that they might be living for some time in the catacombs.
The paladin began at the beginning, telling the children how he was awakened in the ruins of Daelcast with Sarrac and Alena staring down at him. He then continued, skipping the most frightening and disturbing details, to share with them how they had met with Nyssa and then stumbled upon Myra in the dark lands.
Smiles brightened the faces of some of the older children as he described how his heart leapt into his throat at his first glimpse of the haunting beauty of the former lich. Their eyes widened as he described her terrible fury and how she had tried twice to strike him down with dark power. He then told them of Myra's captivity, how she was freed, how he had been taken captive, how she had risked her life to save him, and how the entire party had rescued her.
Of all the characters in his tale, he seemed to be the least important. Alena and Sarrac were warriors of legend, Darek a deadly and dexterous philosopher, Nyssa an irrepressible sorceress of incredible power, and Myra the mistress of death; commanding or killing the undead as she saw fit. According to his rendition, he was nothing more than the tool of destiny, the object around which all these mighty heroes gathered.
He brought his story to an end by telling them how he and his friends had worked together to destroy Lord Telraen and told them that only by doing the same could the living ever hope to vanquish the undead. The paladin then explained that each and every one of them was now part of the story. That their fathers had fought for freedom against the dead and that they had waited bravely just outside the Catacombs of Raenlass as the it and his powerful allies faced and defeated the dreaded Kalmock Tal, freeing the soul of the great paladin Cal Morrin.
The spirits of the children had greatly improved during the telling of his tale and, as soon as it was over, they began chattering merrily amongst themselves and laughing together as a few of them reenacted some of the more humorous portions of Paul's narrative. The mothers, along with the fathers that had remained with the group, gazed over the happy scene with sincere satisfaction. The young man and his companions had brought light to a place of darkness, and joy to the halls of mourning. With a feeling of deep satisfaction, the paladin made his way back to his friends.
“What are you doing, Nyssa?” Joey asked, gazing above his head at the fairy who seemed to be writing something on the wall as Paul took up a seat on a nearby sack of grain.
“Isn't it obvious?” she asked condescendingly as the rune she had just completed momentarily glowed with a blue light before vanishing completely.
“No, it's not,” he replied. “That's why I asked: what are you doing?”
“I'm hiding the catacombs,” the fairy replied, rolling her tiny eyes as she spoke.
“That makes sense, I guess,” he replied, stretching himself across several sacks of grain. “But, why don't you leave it 'till morning. We have The Veil with us, so it's not like it won't wait.”
“I know,” she agreed, flying quickly to another spot on the wall, “but, I'd rather get it done tonight. That way I can sleep late tomorrow.”
“Yeah...” he said slowly, his eyes still locked on her. “I can see that. Still, early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
“I suppose that could be true,” she replied dismissively, “but I'm not a man.”
“Oh,” he said, putting his hands behind his head, “I can definitely see that.”
“Would you shut up?!” she replied, glancing down at him. “I'm trying to concentrate.”
In reply, he simply nodded slowly in silence.
“I've been thinking,” Darek said a few moments later.
“About what?” Alena asked.
“The horses,” he said. “We need to get them out of here. If the undead notice fifty or sixty horses wandering around the catacombs it won't take them long to put two and two together.”
“Maybe,” the ogress replied. “But, we had better keep them just the same. If the undead do figure out that we're hiding here, we'll need them.”
“For what?” Darek asked. “We can't outrun the undead. That's why keeping this place hidden is critical.”
“I agree,” Sarrac nodded. “This is a case where stealth is better than speed. Mainly because speed isn't an actual option.”
“Then, what do we do if the undead do find this place?” she asked. “Since we can't fight, our only option is to run.”
“I agree,” the ogre nodded. “But the horses won't help us with that.”
“Well, having them is better than not,” she rebutted.
“No, it isn't,” he disagreed. “Keeping them here will make us much more likely to be discovered, but not any more likely to escape.”
“I suppose I do see your point,” the ogress admitted with a sigh, “but, we need some kind of backup plan.”
“What about the vault?” Nyssa asked, glancing up from where she was drawing on the floor. “We could bring it here and in five or so days, it would be ready to move again. Then, if we're foun
d out we could just pack everyone in it and vanish.”
“You're unbelievable,” Joey smiled. “Almost as brilliant as you are beautiful.”
“I wish I could say the same about you,” she said with a mocking tone and a slight blush before turning her attention back to her work.
“Either way,” Darek said with a chuckle, “that is a good idea.”
“I would say almost perfect,” Paul agreed. “It’s a plan we should put into motion soon. But, for the moment, we need to try to get some sleep.”
“I can't say you're wrong there,” Darek replied with a stretch, “so, I'll take this opportunity to wish you all a very good night.”
Having said this, he wrapped himself in his cloak and closed his eyes. The rest of his companions quickly followed his example and, with the exception of the paladin, the fairy, and the former lich, were all soon asleep.
“You would make a good father,” Myra said suddenly, her eyes turned toward the fire and the few wakeful children that were still laughing and talking around it.
“Would I?” he asked, his own gaze locked on her fair face.
“You would,” she nodded. “I mean; look at what you did. Those children were terrified before you spoke to them. You made them feel like we've actually got a chance of defeating the undead. You made being in this place seem thrilling and exciting rather than frightening. You even made them feel like they're part of what we're doing. Which they really are, I guess. If nothing else, they're having to share our hardships. But, that's not really my point. The important thing is that you made them feel happy, you made them feel safe.”
“Well, they are,” he pointed out. “In fact, I can't think of any place in Zanoth where they'd be safer. Can you? Here, they are hidden from the undead, sitting on sanctified ground, watched over by the it, his powerful companions, and a number of the Warriors of Dawn. I don't think it gets safer than that on this planet.”
“That's what I mean,” she replied with a slight smile. “You always seem to look at things that way. I know you're completely right from a certain point of view, but you could also say that they're banished from their homes, hunted by an army of undead, quickly running out of food, and currently living in a tomb.”
“Alena may be right,” the young man said thoughtfully. “You may be a pessimist.”
“No, I'm not,” she replied with a light laugh. “I'm just a realist. And, in this case, I happen to agree with you completely. For the moment, these children are probably safer than they've ever been in their lives. I was just pointing out that there's more than one way to look at any situation. And you always tend to see things in the best possible light. You give people hope, Paul... Even me.”
“I'm glad to hear it,” he said, gazing at the fair maiden in the flickering firelight with a smile on his face. “Because we really do have a chance. More than just a chance, really. This is a place of safety. A haven. And, it's one that mere mortals are allowed to live in indefinitely. That's something that hasn't existed in Zanoth in centuries.”
“I suppose that's true. At least, until the undead find us.”
“They won't,” Paul assured her. “They know where the place is, but they think Kalmock Tal is here - and that means the living can't be.”
“For the moment,” she replied. “But, that won't last forever. Eventually, they'll track us here. For one thing, just think about how much food we're going to have to bring here. It's only a matter of time before they manage to follow some cart filled with grain, or a trail of loaded horses heading this way.”
“You may be right,” the paladin ceded, “but, that won't be a major problem. Once we've got the vault back, we can move from one place to another instantly. They'll show up to find the catacombs sanctified, but empty.”
“I'm not saying it's hopeless,” she replied. “I'm just saying we're not safe yet.”
“We're not completely safe,” Paul corrected. “But, I think we're safe enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, taking a deep breath, “that we're safe enough to start courting again.”
“Paul, we've been through this and...”
“I know,” he interrupted. “I know. But, things have changed. Or, at the very least, they are changing. You said yourself that these children are probably safer than they've ever been in their lives. That being the case...”
“It doesn't matter,” the maiden interrupted, shaking her head. “They're not as safe as they might be. I certainly wouldn't want my children to be going through what they're going through, or being exposed to the risks they are. I'm not saying we're not making progress. I'm just saying we haven't achieved yet. It's like... like we've got the framework of a cabin built, but there are still massive holes in the roof and the walls are filled with cracks that let in terrible drafts...”
“And rain can pour right down the chimney and put the fire out,” he interjected.
“What?” she replied. “Chimney's don't work that way. You see...”
“I know,” he said, shaking his head, “I was just thinking of a dream I had once. Either way, please go on.”
“My point is,” she continued, “although we're safer than we were, we certainly aren't safe enough. At least, not for that.”
“I see,” he replied with a sigh.
“But, I admit that we are making progress,” she said, smiling at him. “It's not that I don't want to.”
“I know.”
“It's just that I can't.”
“I know.”
“Of course, we've gotten farther than I ever thought we would. So, who knows? Maybe one day we will be safe enough.”
“Well, let's hope so.”
“You do understand why I feel this way?”
“I'm trying to,” he said, forcing himself to smile.
“I'm glad,” she replied, before laying down across several sacks of grain, “because I really do care for you. There are just some risks that are too great for me to take.”
In response, he only nodded.
“Good night, Paul” the maiden said, before rolling over on her side and closing her eyes.
“Good night, Myra.”
The young man sat in silence, staring into the fire. That conversation hadn't gone quite as well as he had hoped. Still, the scoreboard clearly showed that he had made a few goals. She had said she cared for him and made it clear that she still wanted to court him, not to mention the fact that she had been the one to introduce the topic of him and fatherhood. Plus, she had to admit that they were making progress and that they were safer than they had been. On the other hand, it was hard to imagine how they were going to be able to get any safer while still living on Zanoth. He wondered what exactly might qualify as safe enough.
His mind wandered back to tropical islands. It was possible that Nyssa could scry around and find one that was relatively undead-free. Once they had the vault back, getting to it would be a piece of cake. Of course, the oceans were filled with undead horrors and there was a good chance that skeletons could just walk across the sea bed. At least they could in Pirates of the Caribbean. Nothing ruins a beach trip like waves of undead coming in with the tide... No, the idea just wasn't perfect.
Still, the vault would likely prove very useful in the future. It would give them the ability to move all the women and children from one place of safety to another instantly. If they could find a way to get around the five-day cool down period, it would be even better. If they had something like that at their disposal, he might be able to convince her that they were safe enough after all.
Myra and Nyssa might be able to figure something out. But, all things considered, he would wait a few days to mention it. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel like he was pressuring her. He wasn't. He was just trying to work out a way for them to be together. Obviously, that was going to take a good deal of thought and effort. What was equally obvious was that it was going to take a fair amount of time...
Ch
apter 12: Meaningful Conversations
“How long is this gonna take?” Joey asked, glancing nervously around the chapel.
“I don't know,” Paul replied, “maybe half-an-hour.”
“Why?” Alena chuckled. “Are you scared?”
“I wouldn't say that, Madam Cow,” he replied. “But, I can tell you this: you don't want to get grabbed by no specter. When they touch you, it feels like they're sucking your soul out.”
“They basically are,” Myra replied, gazing around the room with glowing green eyes.
“That's good to know,” he said sarcastically. “I feel so much better now.”
“Well, there don't seem to be any here at the moment,” she replied reassuringly, “so, you've got nothing to worry about for the time being.”
“Either way,” Paul added. “If any undead jump us, you can just blast 'em with your magic.”
“Right. I can make light at them. I'm sure that'll do the trick.”
“It's better than nothing,” the paladin replied.
“Not much,” Darek laughed.
“Well, we should have brought Nyssa with us,” Joey asserted.
“You said we should let her sleep late,” Paul pointed out.
“No,” his friend denied, “I said she wanted to sleep late. There's a difference.”
“There is,” Sarrac agreed. “And, you definitely said that we should let her. I heard you myself.”
“Maybe,” Joey admitted, “but, that was before I knew what Paul had in mind.”
“You want to go get her now?” Alena asked.
“No...” Joey said after a second's delay. “I guess not. I mean; if we had to, we could probably take on a small army of specters without her.”
The Fortress of Donmar (The Tales of Zanoth Book 2) Page 20