The group marched to the edge of the mountain, and there they met up with a group of two dozen or so hiding civilians guarded by a few more soldiers. CJ noted the groups of soldiers had their own yellow lines, usually all connecting to the most senior looking soldier among them. When CJ’s group met up with them, the two carrying Sir Byr were led off to a woman in robes near the center of the circle of people.

The robes were the same sort CJ lifted from the church, except she was wearing a thick shirt underneath that covered her arms, and wearing a cloak over the top.

A man in similar attire came out to meet the Lady with arms spread wide and a nervous smile on his face. His short blond hair and gray eyes made him seem charming despite the rain matting his hair and robes to his body. He stopped before her and bent at the waist in respect. When he came back up, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Lady Mae, I’m so relieved you are safe.” He said as she walked over and gave him a hug. “I assume we are still doing…”

She let go of him and nodded, and then looked back to CJ.

So her name was Mae. Still some sort of noble lady, but it felt better to have a name to attach to her position. CJ gave the priest a nod of the head, but he was still bound at the wrist and didn’t see himself going in for a handshake.

“Who is this,” the man said. “I feel like I would recognize a man with such distinctive features on the temple’s roster.”

Lady Mae motioned to CJ. “Larl, we found this man hiding among Ash Walkers, on the floor of the chamber of the divine pyre.”

Larl, the priest, tilted his head in confusion at the story. “We cleared the temple when we left, that was the order. No one should have been inside.”

CJ lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah well, I didn’t get in through the doors.”

“Didn’t get-” Larl looked to Lady Mae, and then to Alyss. “Curious.”

The rain seeping into CJ’s wounded eye was starting to sting again. He winced, and Larl took a step in toward him.

“Careful,” Alyss said.

Larl shook his head, “Nonsense. I’m sure if this man was so foolish as to attack a man of the Wards, you would be more than capable of stopping him. But that wound looks nasty, we should get you cleaned up before we start the hike.”

“Be careful with him,” Mae said. “Alyss stay with him, I need to speak to a few people.”

Alyss furrowed her brow, then nodded.

Larl clapped his hands and smiled, sending a splash of rain off in each direction. “Great, come with me please.”

CJ was dragged by Alyss over to the same area as Sir Byr. They stripped the man of his armor, and were treating some of his wounds while sitting under a thin canopy on poles. But Larl turned CJ away from that and seated him on a small metal stool they had among the couple of robed people working there. His eye was rinsed with a gourd-like canteen of water, then wiped down. After that he was given a quick head bandage.

“No magic?” CJ asked as Larl finished.

Larl smiled at him, then his expression went straight, before a grin returned. “How about we save that until you can rest and recover?”

He didn’t understand that answer until the group started to move. The soldiers directed the group toward the mountainside. The elderly and children were kept in the center, while soldiers took up the front and rear. The whole group was led through the hills before the mountain until they reached what looked like a dim cave.

It got them out of the rain, and several torches were lit as the refugee group entered the mountain itself.

Alyss kept him near the rear of the group. CJ still spotted Lady Mae among the group ahead. She was talking to different members of the group, a man in a black coat, a woman in a green cloak, and other people who seemed pretty fancy for a group of escapees climbing through a mountain.

The path got steeper as they went, and occasionally the cave was so close to the surface that they could hear the rain thundering above as drumming on the rock. For a portion there was a stream that split the cave path, and a small wooden bridge wide enough for a small cart was built across it.

“This is wild,” CJ mumbled to himself.

Alyss looked at him, and CJ assumed she was going to ignore him like many times before. But after a bit more walking, she spoke up.

“It is an old pass through the mountain range, past Hibe himself.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, her eyes were on the cave walls.

He considered staying quiet, but he needed answers. “Hibe being?”

Her expression soured, and CJ regretted the question immediately.

“Okay, unless you don’t want to answer that.”

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“Maybe you call him Father Hi?” Alyss asked. She shrugged, “But here, he is still Hibe.”

CJ thought about her tone, reverence. He was found in a church, or a temple according to Larl. It was possible he was in the middle of a rather religious group.

“God,” CJ said. “Yeah sorry, the name is a little different where I’m from.”

Silence again, until she continued the conversation some minutes later. “So you admit you are a foreigner?”

“I think I already made that clear.” He shuffled his shoulders, the awkward position of his bound together hands was making his shoulders sore. “Not like, a country near here. Not unless you guys are just well off the map. I think I’m a long way from Washington.”

She scrunched up her face as if she was going to ask a question, but then she dropped it and chose not to.

So they continued their climb. The path grew tougher, with older members of the group being helped up steep inclines and up ledges. They stopped for a break, with the priests going around and letting anyone that wanted take a swig of their water. Larl called it their halfway point, and CJ nearly dropped dead there to save himself.

But the group collected themselves and the climb continued.

The rain was done by the time they made it through. They emerged from another cave mouth, and CJ could feel that the air was thinner. They climbed for so long, he had no idea how far they traveled. But they continued further, going from the hard rock and gravel near the cave to a grassy field surrounded by high hills. It was hard to make out the details in the dark, but the group of travelers seemed relieved.

They dropped their bags and packs, and some tents were thrown up for cover against the cold. Those who did not desperately need the tents, the able bodied adults, bundled together with blankets. The priests picked through the people in attendance, offering words for some and taking others to speak with the healing woman CJ spotted before.

Eventually, Larl grabbed CJ again. He was taken over to the robed woman.

“Sister Halta,” Larl said as he sat CJ down on a stool set in front of the woman’s bag of supplies. “This young man fell on his eye, the wound was just before his journey as I understand it. What can you do for him?”

The woman was older than CJ or Larl, probably in her 60s. It was hard to say exactly how old she was, because while she had telling wrinkles that spoke of years of age, she still had a youthful color to her dark hair and brown eyes. Her hair was tied up, and the excess covered in a little bundle of red cloth. She looked exhausted, but she nodded at Larl’s statement.

“Let me see you then,” She said.

CJ noticed her stealing a glance at his stolen robes, but she didn’t make a comment. His bare feet were no longer numb from the climb, now his heels felt like bare bone stabbed against flesh with every move. But he was also too tired to complain or fight, so he scooted the stool closer.

Halta took off his bandages, then looked him over.

“This will hurt,” Halta said. “But bear it, please.”

CJ nodded, and she forced his eyelid open.

The pain was immediate. He expected to be able to see something, a gray blur or something. Instead, the darkness on the right side of his vision didn’t change, but the nonsense text rapidly scrambled. He couldn’t resist the reflex to shut his eye, but Halta held it in place. He hissed, but fought the urge to yell.

“Hmmm,” Halta said, then motioned for Larl.

Larl came around to see what she saw, and then stood upright in surprise. His eyes widened, and then he leaned in.

“What?” CJ asked. “Something wrong?”

Halta let his eye close. CJ pulled both hands up and held his palm over his eye.

She sighed, “more damage than I suspected. Hands down. What is your name?”

He looked up and dropped his hands as Halta went into her bag and produced a glass flask of greenish brown liquid.

“What is that?” CJ asked, his eye never leaving the bottle as she opened it and sniffed it.

“Name,” Halta repeated.

He nodded, “Oh right. CJ Eastman. But no really, what is that. Should we be worried about allergies, or something?”

“Eastman?” Halta asked. “I’ve never heard of it. Is it a nice place?”

No one was introduced with a last name so far. CJ realized they probably took ‘Eastman’ to be where he was from.

He opened his mouth to explain, then grinned. “Nice enough.”

Halta grabbed a small vial, opened it, and emptied it into the greenish-brown liquid. She sloshed it around, and whispered words.

She didn’t have any of the yellow lines he occasionally saw. Still, when she whispered her words over the flask, CJ saw a flash of power similar to when Sir Byr and the soldiers summoned their blades. It started at her chest, a shine like sparking flint, then it moved up her arm in a breath. When it reached her hand, her palm glowed a soft yellow. This shine engulfed the flask as she held it, and the liquid transformed before his eyes.

When she was done, the whole flask was filled with a golden liquid, like a thick apple juice. Without warning, she emptied enough into her cupped hand to fill it, stoppered the flask and set it aside, then she grabbed CJ’s head and smacked the liquid filled hand against his hurt eye.

“Ah, what the hell!”

There was a sharp pain, kind of like if you got apple juice in your open eye. He fell backwards off the stool, and then held his head as the pain ramped up second by second.

“Bandage him again,” Halta said as CJ rolled around in the grass. “Make sure his screaming doesn’t wake up those in the tents.”

“Yes sister,” Larl said.

“Ah, it burns!”

“I’ll keep an eye on him overnight,” Larl added.

CJ coped with the pain by cursing at Larl until he couldn’t think of any other words. Then he made up a few new curses for good measure.

The priest led him to the edge of the little camp of refugees, and got him a blanket to cover him.

The medicine, whatever it was, felt like it was intermittently jabbing at his eye. It didn’t follow an exact pattern, just sudden moments of rapid pricks of pain and then the dull aches after. It felt like the muscles on his head were straining at all times, and eventually he was sore and exhausted.

Larl stayed nearby, humming a low and slow tune. Eventually the sounds of people or activity all died down, and all CJ could perceive was Larl’s hum.

Sleep came eventually. He dreamed. There was a field of fire and ash, and above it stood a terrifying beast wreathed in flames that hid all but its size and rage. CJ was standing before it, wearing a Mariner’s sweater and trainer pants. He was bald, and looked too thin. CJ saw all of this from high above, as if flying just below the clouds.

He could hear a ticking noise, like a clock counting off time.