by Philip Smith
Sleep did not come to Paige regardless of her fatigue. She could hear the sounds of crows and owls calling out in the night. The heavy weight of grief still festered within her. The more she lay still, the more it began to gnaw away at her heart. Soft tears welled up in her eyes. There she imagined the two villages that now lay in ashes beyond the cold grey chasm she and the Brotherhood has passed through on their journey, a little corner of the world wiped off the map because of one man’s greed.
She had no idea how long she’d been laying there when she drifted into a fitful sleep, but slowly the black corners of her mind filled with flashes of light, like lightning in a thunderstorm. She saw flashes of her parents’ faces covered in soot and blood, fire surrounding them on all sides. She saw dark, faceless spectres swoop in and hide them from view, screams of fear and torment echoing in her head and reverberating off the walls of her thumping heart. She then saw the same sort of flashes with Abenya and Hanburg. Finally, she saw Olivian reaching out to her, covered in blood and crying, swallowed up by the morbid, cruel chuckle of Prince Feridar.
“NO!” Paige screamed, flying up to an upright position screaming, tears flowing freely from her eyes as she sobbed in the dark. She sat straight up into a pair of strong, firm arms.
“Paige, calm down. It was only a dream.” Robert was saying, squeezing her tight. She held in her sobs for a moment, then released the floodgates, her whole body shaking into his damp robe in the steady drizzle that surrounded them. She cried until her throat was raw, her lungs hiccuping to pull in enough breath. Her heart felt as if it had finally splintered into a billion pieces, and she was left with nothing to keep the feelings inside any longer. All the while Robert kept holding her tightly.
“It’s alright. I’ve got you. Let it out. Let it all out. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I can’t....I can’t let him keep doing this!”
“Who?”
“The prince. He’s taken everything from me!” she sobbed. “And he’s not going to stop!”
“No he won’t,” Robert agreed, stroking her damp hair reassuringly. “But we’re going to get Olivian out. I promise.”
Paige sobbed softly for a moment then pulled her face away, sniffing and wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve.
“It’s not just her though,” Paige said as she looked up into Robert’s concerned expression. “He’s going to keep destroying lives if we don’t do something. He’s wiped out so much of the Wild trying to get his hands on that stupid scroll!”
“You’re absolutely right.”
Paige paused for a moment, holding her breath. She let her hot, angry tears drip down her nose and stain the fabric of her already muddy shirt.
“And nothing I’ve done has once helped keep that from happening,” Paige whimpered. “I’m too weak.”
“Don’t say that,” Robert said softly. “Paige, you are the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
“That's just it,” Paige said, sitting up a bit straighter and looking at Robert in the eyes. “I keep trying to be. But I failed my mother. She died because of what I did. And I couldn’t save my Papa, even though I tried. I couldn’t even get out of that stupid village on my own. Someone had to drag me. And now Hanburg is dead, and it’s all because they are hunting me. It’s not Olivian who’s the damsel in distress. It’s me. It’s always been me.” Paige hiccupped and felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment which made her even angrier. “See, I can’t even pull myself together. This is stupid!”
She choked out the last few sobs she had in her. The patterning of the rain on his robe was the only sound aside from Paige’s occasional sniff.
“Paige, do you know why I agreed to help you?”
Paige shook her head. “I figured it was pity, or honor, you being a good person or some such rubbish,” she muttered.
Robert chuckled. “Well, yes. But the thing that sealed it all together for me?”
Paige shrugged.
“It was this,” he said, thumping his chest. “That heart that beats in your chest is the bravest, most selfless heart I’ve ever seen. You don’t have to be emotionless or tough to be strong. I wanted to help you because I saw the most honest person I’ve ever seen decide she was going to march to hell and back for someone she loves. For family. That kind of loyalty? That kind of bravery? That is the kind of thing that people are willing to follow.”
“But all the pain? All the loss?” Paige said.
Robert inclined his head. “Life happens. There was nothing you could do about any of those losses, but you keep letting that unnecessary guilt hold you down. That’s a burden you don’t need to carry, Alwasu.”
Paige shrugged again, but his words brought a soothing measure of comfort to her pounding, aching heart. She felt the tears continue to burn paths down her cheeks.
“Never think that being who you are is a weakness,” Robert whispered. “It’s that honesty about you that we all love, Paige. You should never be ashamed to be you. You’re allowed to cry, you are allowed to grieve. Because it’s your tenacity to keep going that shows your strength. Never forget that, okay?”
Paige nodded and closed her eyes. Eventually she cried herself to sleep in Robert’s reassuring arms and did not wake up till the next morning when Woodcarver had tapped her foot to rouse her.
“I’m sorry my dear,” he said, sympathy edging his urgent tone. “But we simply must get moving. No time to waste.”
Paige nodded and numbly put her soggy gear back into her soaked pack and cinched up for the journey. She glanced at Robert before they set out, who gave her a half smile before putting his own pack on and following Woodcarver. They slogged through the muddy ground and back onto the trailless, steep cliffs that were now their only pathway to saving Olivian.
They trudged on for hours, the rain sputtering on and off into a slight drizzle. The trees were so thick they could see only a various sickly gray patch of sky filled with droopy clouds. The boulders and ravines were becoming steeper, and there were now more cliffs. Rather than march straight through the mountains up and over to the other side, they were having to skirt around them and zig zag up and down natural switchbacks and game trails.
On and on they plodded, one step at a time. Paige felt like dropping constantly, but she knew if she stopped, she wouldn’t be able to get back up. She resolved to keep moving despite her feet turning as raw as a young tree scraped by a buck’s antlers in the spring. The tired and worn out crew called it a day just as the twilight faded through the grim sky, although the day had been gloomy enough it was hard to tell how fast the sun was actually setting. They set up a fireless camp, too weary to find wood that wasn’t damp.
Paige sat with her back to a mossy tree. She had wrapped herself in her wool blanket and cloak to fend off the cold that nipped at her body. A few surviving mosquitoes lazily buzzed into her ear, the noise. She shooed them away and bent over to pull off her muddy moccasins, as a sickly smell hit her. She gagged at the sight of her bloody foot coming out of the wet leather. She could make out the dark red areas that had formed deep crimson blisters the size of her thumbnail. They were now bloody, raw wounds, as if her shoes had been made of cheese graters. She bit her lip as she removed the other moccasin to the exact result.
“By the Moons!” Broadside exclaimed as he walked past and caught sight of her feet. “What happened, Paige?!”
The men swooped to her aid, concern flooding their faces. She felt embarrassed at the attention but touched by the sentiment.
Questions flooded out of their mouths all at once:
“Do you need some water? I saw a stream a ways that way.”
“Oh! That looks painful! What should we do?”
“Can I help?”
“Oh, that’s nothing. You want to see mine?”
“You want me to cauterize them for you?”
“Stand down, you tottling hens!” Woodcarver scolded in a tone that immediately hushed everyone to a silence like a sealed burial chamber. “Giv
e her some air.”
“Well then why don’t you do something about it, mister sorcerer?” Broadside asked, placing two fists the size of hams on his robust hips.
Woodcarver glared at him. “I wouldn’t expect a dwarf to remember such trivial details, but I am a magician, not a sorcerer.” He knelt beside Paige.
“Big difference, that!” mocked Broadside.
Robert smacked him upside the head. “Sorcerers use human sacrifice for their spells, you dolt,” he snapped.
Broadside’s eyes grew wide with surprise and his cheeks flushed red. “I’m horribly embarrassed. Forgive me, sir,” he muttered. Woodcarver ignored him.
“This won’t be pleasant, but it’s far better than searing your shredded feet with hot iron,” Woodcarver said, looking over Paige’s torn feet. “You’re lucky it’s cold, princess,” he said, gingerly holding one of her small, bloodied heels. “The chilling numb is the only thing keeping you from excruciating pain.”
“It still hurts,” she winced.
He smiled with compassion. “I fear it will sting a little more yet, but I promise it will be worth it. May I?”
Paige thought for a moment, then sighed and nodded. Woodcarver took off his green cloak and rolled up his baggy, natural wool colored shirtsleeves, and took her two oozing feet in his hands. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
“Ithniegh,” he whispered. Paige watched in wonder and fascination as a light began to generate from his hands. It was a grayish-blue, foggy kind of light. Paige suddenly felt all the feeling go out of her lower leg. It was replaced by a cold tingling as the light faded. Woodcarver let her still bloody feet lay on the rocky earth.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. The Mist has entered your blood. It…” he hesitated.
“What?”
“I said it was better than cauterization, but, the irritation is about the...”
SNAP! Paige felt blasts of pain hit her feet. She cried out as a wall of stinging, searing sensations rushed up her legs. She felt like fire was burning up her feet, and no thrashing could ease it. Her bare legs radiated a bright light as the magic sped up the healing process, replacing torn and tattered skin and tissue with new.
And as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. It had taken no more than a few seconds, but she had never in her life experienced such physical pain. She lay on the ground, nearly sobbing as she coughed, trying to force air into her lungs. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
Broadside bent down to her, concerned. “How do they feel?”
“Hang on,” she said with gritted teeth, and then, before anyone could stop her, delivered a kick so violent it might have made the dwarf lose his supper if he’d had any. Broadside fell down with an “oof” and rolled twice, then coughed and moaned in pain.
Even with her own lingering discomfort, Paige smirked. “They feel just fine now.”
Chapter 13
Craymoghr Cliff
It took another three days for the rain to clear up, but even after the downpour had ceased, the mountains remained misty and cold like the deep dungeon where Paige pictured Olivian. That thought drove her on as they climbed and trudged through the grey atmosphere of the wild highlands. Birds became scarce now, just like the wild game they had been relying on for food. With no lack of effort, they still managed to catch rabbits and other small creatures to keep them fed and energized each day.
On the morning of the fourth day, Paige wrapped up in her wool blanket and staggered to her feet. Her breath came out in clouds now, and it felt like her lungs were coated with the frost of the late fall. She looked to the sky, eager to see the sun crest the ridge and warm her bones. She flicked some of the rebellious strands of blonde hair out of her eyes, looking towards the men lying around their own campfire.
Judging by the sound of the snoring, she assumed they were all still asleep. Paige smiled at the rhythmic cacophony that resounded from across the sloped campsite, courtesy of the camp’s resident dwarf and giant. Her mother had always teased her father for sounding like a bear, but they put her Papa to shame.
Paige swallowed another round of grief as those memories slithered across her heart. She found herself touching the key at her throat, the ache amplified with each heartbeat. She missed her parents so much, and the raw emotional ache that Hanburg’s untimely death had brought to her made her miss her family all the more. She closed her eyes and imagined her mother, sitting on her bed when she’d been but a child. She remembered her mother’s merry laugh and fanciful stories about the great forests of the Whisperwood. Every night she would tell the girls tales of her own childhood and the fantastic beasts that roamed the country.
A tear began to form in the corner of Paige’s eye, but she refused to let it fall. Right now, she needed to focus. Paige tossed the blanket aside in a forsaken wad, biting her lip in defiance to the cold. She took a length of hemp rope and a few tight rolls later, she had the crumpled mass lashed to her wood frame pack.
“Ready?” a soft, but deep voice asked from behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know it was Dinendale. For someone so big and tall, he had an uncanny knack for sneaking up on people.
“Are you?” she asked, not bothering to look up at him as she slid her hunting knife into her finally dry moccasin. She heard him slide off his perch on the gigantic boulder and land nimbly on his feet.
“I am always ready,” he said, walking up to her.
“I guess you would be, living like this all the time.”
The elf chuckled, walking up alongside her. “I didn’t always live like this, I’ll have you know,” he said, his eyes glinting like obsidian.
Paige felt her cheeks flush. “Is that so?” she said with mock haughtiness. “Well, you certainly could have fooled me.”
The elf smiled a one-sided grin, noting her sarcasm. “You are quite strange for a princess, you know?”
“Oh, so you’ve been acquainted with many princesses, sir elf?” she scoffed, turning to face him.
“I’ve met my fair share,” he said, rubbing his chin, a mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes. Trying to stifle a chuckle of her own, air escaped through her nose in a snort. Her embarrassed cheeks flushed crimson as Dinendale lead a round of contagious laughter, grinning ear to ear. The silence took hold for only a few heartbeats before the elf cleared his throat.
“Well, I guess I’d better get these vagrants up.” He stretched with a good natured sigh leaving his lips.
“Good luck,” Paige rolled her eyes. “They could sleep in the middle of a battlefield, given the chance.”
“Some of them have,” Dinendale said grimly, immediately changing the tone of their jovial moment.
Paige held his eyes with sympathy, until that impish grin came back.
“Want to see something funny?” he asked.
“Is that even a question?” she laughed back.
“Follow me.”
As they approached the camp, Paige saw that Jesnake and Woodcarver were already up. Dinendale walked over to Duelmaster and bent over the him. The dryad slowly opened his eyes and sat up, his autumn hair in so many tangles that it looked like a bird’s nest cluttered with leaves from the ground where he slept.
The elf whispered something in Duelmaster’s ear. The dryad looked surprised then delighted as he nodded emphatically in agreement. Dinendale proceeded to waking Robert while Duelmaster straddled Twostaves’ heaving, snoring, chest. Then he delivered a loud slap across Twostaves’ face. The giant jumped up, cursing and swinging. Robert, who’d been jostled by Dinendale, resorted to descriptive name-calling.
“Cut it out you tree-hugging, pond-drinking, jerk-faced son of a pixie!” he shouted. Dinendale shushed him and jerked his head at Broadside, the last remaining sleeper of the band. Robert immediately shut his mouth, and a glint flashed in his eyes as he smirked and pulled himself out of bed.
Dinendale crouched and crept up to where Broadside lay snoring like a behemoth. His tawny hair and fast
growing, matted, tangled beard shook with each raspy breath. A large puddle of thick drool hung out of his mouth and pooled in the folds of his makeshift pillow of helmet lining. His large backside pointed to the treetops, and his feet poked from underneath his cloak like hairy, wriggly butternut squash. Paige let out a soft giggle of amusement.
The dark elf took his water-skin and pulled the cork out with is teeth, leaning its mouth just over the dwarf’s bulbous nose. He shook it once, allowing just three or four drops to splatter on the dwarf’s nostril.
“FLOOD!” Broadside leapt up from his precarious position and began to thrash wildly in the tangle of cloaks and armor. “DROWNING! HELP! HEEEEEEEEELP!”