Helbram staggered back from the Sword, letting go of the handle as the weight of the grief and rage that pressed against him forced him to his knees. A second roar tore through the air, its pitch lighter, more like a cry in nature, but so loud that it was as if it had happened right next to him. He fell forward, catching himself on his hands as the flood of sorrow pressed upon him, tears welling in his eyes against his will.
An image of the dead Troll flashed in his mind, summoned from the suffocating sadness of the parents that cried out into the night. His fearful, panicked eyes as the light left them, the gasp of air as he took a breath that he could not hold onto. The confusion, the pain, all clear for Helbram to see.
He did not recoil from the vision, and instead let it sit within his mind. It remained even as the weight of the Troll’s parents lessened, and he rose to his feet on shaky legs. He trudged towards the Sword, which remained undisturbed as it rested within the tree. Helbram reached out for it, the phantom sensation of his Ether growing more prominent in his mind as he drew closer to the silver handle that glistened in the moonlight. He felt a rush in his chest as his hand hovered over the handle, a heat that sped his breaths. His fingers twitched, and the image of the Troll was pushed from his mind.
He stopped.
That was not of his doing. He could not have, would not have so flippantly forgotten about such failure even in the presence of the promise before him, not after the sorrow that he had just experienced. The desire that now permeated his mind was to a degree he had never felt before, even in his early, naive days full of hope. He knew that this desire was his own, that was for certain, but the sudden rush, the draw to the blade that cut through the sadness that had occupied every fiber of his empathy… that was not him.
Helbram pulled his hand back, and as he did he felt a flare in his mind. It was brief, a momentary flash of emotion that pressed him to grasp the blade, but it faded just as quickly. He eyed the Sword once again, which remained still in its wooden prison. Both sorrow and desire had stilled around him, and there was a newfound clarity to his thoughts, thoughts that immediately brought up the image of the Troll once again. Not of its death, but of the battle that preceded it, of the blank stare he gave them before charging at the party full of an unnatural rage. In the heat of battle Helbram could not focus on the Troll’s features, but in that brief moment where the Troll looked at him with a face that held no emotion, he could see only the blackness that had crept over the Troll’s beady eyes.
Blackness that glinted with a flash of silver.
Perhaps it was a flash of the moonlight, or a fabrication of his own mind, but it was enough to plant a seed of doubt within his mind, enough to keep him from reaching for the Sword once again.
He stepped back from the blade, waiting for any flare of emotions that were not his own. When none came, he walked past the tree and towards the doors of the Shrine. When he approached it, he could hear the clamor of noises outside. Alarmed, he threw open the doors, startling Sophia, who scrambled back from her near prone position on the ground. The tears in her eyes told him that she was subjected to the same onslaught of grief that the Trolls had sent forth.
He first heard the wails of children off in the distance. Cries of grief from those that could not steel themselves against the raw emotion that continued to pulse through the town. The cries grew louder and louder, to such a degree that Helbram could only wonder if some had started to feel a physical pain in addition to the grief that was over them all. Outside of the Shrine, Helbram could feel its effects pressing against him once again. He grit his teeth and shook the feeling from him. As much as he could empathize with the emotions that were forcing their way into his mind, he was not going to be able to get anything done if he were to be swept up by them.
Sophia appeared to be of the same mind and rose to her feet. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked to Helbram, focusing on his hands. The disappointment on her face was clear when she saw them as empty. Her eyes met his, and he looked at her with a neutral expression.
“I am still undecided,” he said.
She nodded and looked back to the town, “What happened here?”
Helbram frowned, “The aftermath of the trial.”
The Maiden looked at him with a confused expression.
He held a hand up, “I will leave the explanation to Marcus,” he looked back towards the town, “but I must return to the tavern to check on my friends,” he started to walk away from the shrine, “you may join me if you wish.”
There was a brief moment where he walked alone, but soon Sophia joined him as he walked back into town.
The cries that rang throughout Southsheer were mostly kept within its buildings, but a few had wandered into its streets, wracked enough by the grief that pressed upon them that they could only lean against some object and weep. As they passed by The Maiden’s Kiss, he noted that the building was noticeably more quiet than the others, though there were still a few of its patrons that he could hear weeping through its open windows. As they passed by the building, its doors opened, and Majorie stumbled out. Her eyes were red and he could see the dried streaks of tears down her face, but as they met each other’s gaze her expression shifted to one of utter stillness. She shifted her attention to Sophia briefly before focusing back on him.
“Looking to take the Sword for yourself are you?” she asked.
“What I am doing is no business of yours,” Helbram’s eyes narrowed, “not after what you did tonight.”
The Hawk’s still visage shifted to a glare, her eye twitching as another wave of grief washed over them, “He was lost, there was no point in wasting the effort.”
Helbram snorted, “Is that your reasoning? You were certainly content to let it bear down on Marcus at that time.”
Sophia’s eyes widened and she looked up at Marjorie
The red-haired woman grit her teeth, “The Troll moved faster than I thought,” she said to Sophia while glaring daggers at Helbram.
“Truly the Hawk of Dunwich must be quite fearsome if she’s resorted to excuses,” Helbram said with a shrug, trying to let go of the steady heat of anger that was building in his chest “but I do not have the time to listen to such things.”
He made towards Cliffside.
Marjorie walked after him, “You don’t know -”
Helbram stopped and spun around, catching Marjorie off guard, “I do not need to know,” he said, eyes alight with the fury that he was trying to contain, “I have seen enough this night.”
Marjorie glared back at him, “You have no right to judge me!”
She did not flinch as Helbram stared down at her, “And you had no right to do what you did,” he growled, “But fine then. Tell me about yourself, regale me with the tale that would make me understand as to why you would let an innocent die tonight.”
Marjorie continued to glare up at Helbram, who remained unflinching in his gaze. She said nothing.
“I see,” he said as he stepped away from her, “Then I shall leave you to the consequences of your actions,” he swept a hand towards the forest, “and just so you are aware, should you try anything, I stand by the words I said to you earlier this night.”
She said nothing as he stepped away. Sophia followed after him, and from the expression on her face he knew that she had many questions.
“It would be best for Marcus to explain things,” he said.
The Maiden nodded, and they proceeded into Cliffside, the sounds of the wailing townsfolk pressing upon them all the while.
By the time that they returned to The Salty Breeze they found the building to be conspicuously empty, especially given its recent flood of business. Mary was not at the counter, and were it not for the light that shone from the stairway one could have assumed the building itself was empty. The cries within the building were thankfully muted, all except the soft weeping that came from above.
Helbram and Sophia went up the stairs, and upon reaching the second floor were greeted by the sight of Leaf, Elly, and Jahora standing outside one of the rooms at the far end of the hall. Though he was only gone for a moment, the sight of his companions lessened the weight that sat on his shoulders, and though it was only for an instant, the small smiles they gave him told him that they were grateful for his presence as well. Their expressions soon turned grim afterwards. Though they were not marked by any streaks of tears or red eyes, there was a hollowness to their faces that signaled the burden of the grief that pressed upon them, made only worse by the weeping that came through the door they surrounded.
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Helbram looked to Leaf.
“It’s Marcus,” he said, “the poor lad is taking it the hardest.”
“Mary is with him now,” Jahora said as she nodded towards the door, “straightened right up when she heard her brother’s cries.”
As they drew closer to the door, Marcus’s cries became more defined, a single repeated phrase that cut through his weak, tired cries.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
Tears welled in Sophia’s eyes the moment that she could hear him, and Helbram could see the guilt sat over her as she touched the door, but didn’t move. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
“Go to him,” he encouraged in a soft tone, “he needs you now more than ever.”
She gave him a thankful expression and took in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders before opening the door and proceeding inside. Helbram closed the door behind her and looked to the rest of his party.
“How are all of you holding up?” he asked.
“Terribly,” Elly sighed, “but functional.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“Likewise,” he looked back towards the door, “we should give them some privacy.”
They walked back to Helbram and Leaf’s room. Elly and Jahora sat themselves on Leaf’s bed while Helbram leaned against the wall, the heaviness of his eyes telling him that he’d fall asleep the moment that he left his feet. Leaf took the desk’s chair, sitting in it backwards so he could rest his arms and head on its back. All were silent for a while, not sure of what to say to each other as the muted cries of the town served as their ambience.
“How are you feeling?” Helbram asked Elly, “Your injuries, I mean.”
“Physically I feel fine,” Elly said, “The Maiden’s magicks are quite potent,” she looked up at him with inquisitive eyes, “On that note, what was it that she asked of you?”
All of them perked up at that question and looked to Helbram with patient, but expectant eyes.
He snorted, “Well, you certainly do not beat around the bush do you?” he closed his eyes and sighed, “She asked me to draw the Sword.”
Leaf pressed his lips thin, “I thought you told us that you were not chosen.”
“I did,” he said, “and I spoke true, it did not tell me that I was chosen… however, I was not aware that it did not tell Marjorie or Marcus that either.”
Elly rubbed her chin, “Interesting… so the only indication of being chosen was the act of moving the blade itself. Yet it did not move when you pulled it, correct?”
Helbram nodded, “I must admit it was not the most enthused attempt, given my incensed mood at the time.”
“I noticed that,” Leaf said, “honestly for a moment I thought you didn’t try at all.”
Helbram snorted, “Oh how I wish I didn’t,” he looked around the room, “Jahora… would you happen to know a spell that could keep us hidden from prying eyes?”
Jahora tilted her head, “Of the magical variety? I know a few but I do not see the po…” her eyes widened when she realized what Helbram was suggesting, “Just give me a moment, I may have been a bit too zealous with my spellcasting for today.”
Elly rested a hand against the Mage’s back, “Allow me to help, perhaps we can be a bit more expedient if we utilize the threadbare amount of Aether available to us for the day.”
Jahora smiled at the Weaver and clasped her hands. Taking in a breath, a singular ring of Aether appeared around her head and Elly’s wrist. Purple energy swirled around the smaller woman’s hands, forming into a glyph at her fingertips before releasing as she spread them out from her. It pulsed through the room, briefly covering it in a coat of purple light before fading. Helbram could feel no difference after the spell was completed, but he took a small measure of comfort from the action nonetheless.
The two spellcasters rubbed their heads at the execution of the spell, and Helbram gave them a moment to gather themselves before speaking.
“The Sword has been speaking to me.”
There was a mix of reactions amongst the group. Jahora was surprised, Elly curious, but Leaf remained stoic as he regarded Helbram.
“I guessed as much,” he said, “the way you wanted to rush out to save the Troll was typical of you, but there was a certain… urgency to it all that I suspected.”
Helbram smiled, “Honestly, I was not aware it was doing so until right before that whole debacle started. Tis a poor excuse, but I got so swept up and focused in the events that occurred after that I did not mention it.”
“We were all quite occupied,” Elly said, “But I am glad that you decided to tell us. How often has it spoken to you?”
“Twice, the first time it showed me bits of memory to communicate. The second… was more direct, when Sophia asked me to draw it.”
Jahora rested her head against her hands, “Given that you do not have the Sword with you, I am guessing that you did not draw it then?”
He shook his head, “No, I did not, but I was only a breath away from doing so.”
No one said anything, waiting for him to continue.
He recounted his conversation with The Sword, sparing no details to what was said. If he was going to let his heart bleed to a weapon that he could not even trust, he owed his companions the same, if not even more. It hurt, bringing it back up again, but the pain in his chest gradually started to lessen the more that he recounted the tale, and as opposed to the broken emotions that he felt with The Sword, there was a calm acceptance to it all as he spoke to his friends. When he was done, he felt light, like a burden had finally lifted off his chest.
Jahora was the first to speak afterwards.
“Helbram… I had no idea,” she said in a soft, sorrowful tone. There was a glistening in her eyes, “I am glad that you told us.”
Elly looked to him, and while she was not teary eyed like Jahora, there was a softness to her eyes that told him she felt the same, “I was aware of your condition… I just did not know how much it had affected you. You are usually so carefree.”
“Aye,” Leaf agreed, “you’re so bloody casual about most things I sometimes forget how much you’ve had to deal with.”
Helbram laughed, “Well it would be quite sour of me to dwell on it at all times, would it not?”
Leaf smiled, “I suppose you’re right, but I too am glad you decided to speak about this,” he walked up to Helbram and clasped his hand, “I will not give you any false hope, but however you decide to deal with your condition, I am with you. This I swear.”
The others nodded in agreement. It was only a quick gesture, but it cut into Helbram enough that he had to close his eyes to stop the tears that welled within them.
“Thank you, all of you,” he said in a soft tone, “I do not know what I did to earn such support, but I will remain humbled by it all the same.”
Jahora walked up to him and pat his leg, “We’re here for you, Helbram.”
He knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder, “And I am here for you, all of you.”
They all smiled at him.
Elly rubbed her chin again, “Though I am curious as to how The Sword was able to awaken the Ether within you… perhaps there is a way to replicate such methods without needing to subject yourself to its whims.”
Helbram shook his head, “We will have to save that discussion for later. For now, I have no intention to go near The Sword any time soon.”
She nodded, “A wise choice. The details of The Sword’s story strike me as… convenient to its purposes.”
“Yes,” he said, “though I cannot confirm it, given its displayed abilities I suspect that it may have been the thing that incensed the Troll.”
“It is possible,” Jahora said, “If it possesses enough Aether to grant Sophia the abilities of a Third Circle Mage, then such things may not be out of its reach.”
“So we leave it be,” Leaf said, “That still doesn’t help us with the other Troll problem.”
Helbram stood up, “Yes, but for that I have a plan, one that involves the Sword in some fashion.”
He told them his intentions.
Leaf frowned, “I can’t say that I am in full agreement with this… it’s a bit too unsavory.”
Helbram sighed, “I agree, but given our options there is little else we can do save for using The Sword itself.”
Elly scratched her head with the pencil she had taken out to jot down notes, “This is true, none of us possess the capabilities to face not only one, but two fully grown Trolls. Us working together was barely enough to handle an adolescent, and even that plan failed.”
“Given our options, it is the only thing I can think of to minimize possible casualties,” he said.
Jahora pressed her lips thin, “Is it not possible to speak with the Trolls themselves? Get them to stand down?”
“Of course we will try that first,” Helbram answered, “but, think of the emotions that are ringing through the town right now, do you think that kind of grief, that rage will be quelled with simple words?” he rubbed his brow, “They are innocent, that is for certain, but they will be coming at us with all that rage behind them, and I would rather have a plan in place to deal with the destruction that they will bring upon the town.”
He looked to all of them, “As always, you need not follow me on this, you are free to do what you deem is best.”
“Oi,” Leaf said, “we said we would stand with you, didn’t we?” his eyes were grim, but full of conviction, “though I have my objections, I am with you.”
Elly and Jahora voiced their agreement as well.
Helbram let out a breath of relief, “Thank you all, once again,” he pressed his lips together, “Though this all is dependent on one other participant.”
A knock sounded against the door.
“Helbram, I need to speak with you,” Sophia said.
“And there she is.”