72. Should I open my own door?

The hobbits did not arrive until nightfall. I saw them coming, for I had gone to clean the bowls, and I stood watching for a moment, and saw the light of a lantern coming up between the trunks in the darkness.

I hastened to peek my head into the cave and said in an excited whisper:

“They’re coming!”

And off I went again, deeper into the snow, towards the light. I did not go far, only to the first tree, and waited impatiently. I was excited at the thought that my master would get to know the learned Baïras. And I hoped that the hobbits would not be frightened when they saw him.

Actually, I got frightened when I saw that the approaching figures were not just two. There were horses. And more people.

Immediately, I wrapped myself in harmonic shadows, moved forward, and was about to sneak around the figures when I saw Dakis turn to me and wag his tail… and I saw Zoria’s bluish hair. It glowed in the darkness. It was incredible. I straightened up, amazed.

“How does it work?” I said.

I startled them all except the quadruped and Shokinori. I undid the harmonies and approached, jumping from root to root. I landed in front of the Blue One.

“Ayo. Is that a spell? The thing with your hair. It looks like a blue lantern.”

An amused glint shone in Zoria’s magical eyes.

“It’s due to the mutations, I’m afraid,” she replied.

“She’d rather stay like that than swallow another of my drinks,” Dessari Wayam said with chattering teeth. He rubbed his gloved hands together as he muttered, “Devils, wandering around here is worse than drinking an ice potion.”

I smiled. What the hell was the alchemist doing here?

“Good evening, my boy!” called out Yabir’s voice almost at the head of the line. “Since you are here, I gather that Dakis is right and that we are close to the famous cave.”

I walked up the line nodding cheerfully.

“It’s a stone’s throw away! I will guide you,” I offered. “My master is waiting for you. Where did you get the horses from?”

The mere sight of these sturdy, long-haired horses awakened memories of long ago.

“We rented them from an old friend of mine who raises ponies in the valley.”

The deep voice came from behind one of the horses. Startled, and knowing that the voice could only be from one person, and that it made sense for him to be there if the alchemist, Sarpas, the twins, and Dalto were there… I stepped around the horse, looked up at the hooded figure, saw the beard, and let out a:

“Oh.”

To which my brother replied:

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to arrest you: Yabir hired us as bodyguards.”

He spoke in such a detached tone that my instinct was to keep away. So I gasped an “ah well…”, and turning back, hurried to lead the group with Dakis. I trotted the last few yards and went inside to pick up my top hat, exclaiming:

“They’re here!”

And as the nakrus rose slowly from the trunk, and Little Wolf, curious, looked away from the story-book, I came out again, took off my top hat as Rogan did, stylishly, and, throwing a harmonic light so that one could see better, I said:

“Sajits! Welcome to Narsh-Ikbal’s, the best astronomer! the best necromancer! the—!”

“Mor-eldal,” the nakrus protested as he stepped out. “A little modesty, son.”

“And my master,” I concluded with a broad smile.

The appearance of the nakrus, highlighted by my harmonic light, had left the newcomers I don’t know if fascinated, entranced or appalled. A bit of all three, perhaps. I undid the spell, and in the dim light of the lanterns, the nakrus’s bright green eyes shone, probing at those present. Yabir was already opening his mouth when my master said:

“Welcome, foreigners. I must say, I wasn’t expecting such a big company.”

He glanced eloquently at the mist hellhound. The latter wagged his tail.

“We’re going to be a bit cramped in the cave, but… come in, if you can,” he offered in a slightly mocking tone.

And without further ado my master turned back and disappeared into the cave. I heard Kakzail clear his throat, and Dalto say in a low voice:

“I’ll go put up the tents.”

“I’ll take care of the horses,” my brother replied quietly.

Yabir then inhaled sharply and took a step forward, saying aloud:

“It is an honour, Narsh-Ikbal! An… er… honor.”

He was undoubtedly moved to speak with the nakrus, but he was also apprehensive. Amused, I tugged him by the sleeve to encourage him to come in, and he entered accompanied by Shokinori and the hellhound. I hesitated on the threshold and looked at the “bodyguards”. My brother, Dalto, and Sarpas were already leaving to set up the tents and tend to the camp; the Blue One, on the other hand, exchanged glances with her sister and the alchemist, and after a few moments of indecision, she entered. The gnome followed her, a glint of excitement in his eyes. As she passed by me, the Blonde One smiled at me and said:

“I bet by day the view must be beautiful from here.” She tilted her head to one side with a pensive pout. “Marevor Helith has a reputation for being a great eccentric… but your master seems to be more normal.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Elassar is ragingly normal,” I assured.

Amused, the magician walked into the cave. I then thought of the story of the blue gem and the slaughtered kings, and I hastened to follow the Blonde One inside to at least make sure that the hobbits had only come to see my master and not to take Little Wolf away.

The interior was crowded, and I had to shave the walls to get to the little one, the bench, and the blankets. Once there, I huddled close to Little Wolf and listened to what was being said.

They spoke in Caeldric, natural. Sitting on the log which I had brought in the afternoon, Yabir was full of formulas of politeness, adding that oh! though not a great admirer of necromancy, he was an ardent worshiper of knowledge, and that, without doubt, my master must be the greatest expert in Prospaterra on bones. My master did not deny it. Every compliment the hobbit paid him drew a look of sharp mockery from his eyes, but I do not know if anyone but me could see it.

At one point, the twins spoke briefly of their childhood in the far west—that’s when I learned that they had known Marevor Helith personally and had actually been spoiled, nail-pinchers’ daughters. Shokinori only opened his mouth to correct his young companion on one or two details when the latter told of the long quest for the Purple Orb. As for the alchemist, he told how he had once been tempted to make a mortic potion that could mimic the effects of bone morjas.

“I say ‘almost’, but, in fact, I did,” the gnome confessed. “And my experiment went wrong. I’m not touching those arts again in my life!”

I learned almost nothing new besides that; however, if I had trouble concentrating on the conversation, it was not for lack of interest but because I kept repeating to myself: my brother is out there and he knows that not only am I a necromancer, but that I was raised by a nakrus. He who had been a fly, who had been on the side of the authorities, what could he think of that? He knew that I had stolen, that I belonged to a gang of thieves, maybe he even knew that I had participated in the theft of the Solance from the Palace, and he knew that I was the one who had caused Warok’s death. So… what did it matter now that he knew about my master? He already despised me. I could feel it. He despised me and worse: he wanted nothing more to do with me.

I was so confused that, after a while, feeling Dakis’ curious gaze upon me, I lay down with my back to them all and closed my eyes. My thoughts swirled so fast that I could not think of anything concrete. And still, some thoughts kept coming to me: my brother hates me, my family doesn’t like me, I’m a monster, only my master thinks I’m not… And then I would lecture myself and say: isturbag, a hundred thousand times isturbag, you’re thinking like a fool… But I was so anxious that Kakzail may have finally stopped trying… well, trying to prove to me that I could still be part of his family. It must be said that, in the face of his efforts, the only thing I had done was to send him chasing the clouds and to throw a mortic shock at him. How many times had my master asked me to think before acting! And I was thinking. I was thinking a lot. The problem was that I always seemed to be blundering.

Well, not always, I qualified. I had taken Little Wolf to be healed. And I had done a lot of good things, right? I had stolen, all right, and I knew that my master didn’t like that very much. What does it matter? I said to myself with a sudden sharpness. My master is leaving! He is leaving, and I shall never see him again. My eyes filled with tears, and with my mortic hand, I clutched Azlaria’s pendant tightly…

So, yeah… My mind was thus confused while my master was quietly talking with his guests barely a meter away from me. Fortunately, I had been very busy all day, looking for the log to make a bench, playing with the sled and Little Wolf… and tiredness finally calmed my ramblings and led me into a restless sleep.

I am not sure what my dream was about, but it was not pleasant, and I awoke drenched in sweat. Wide-eyed, I stirred under the blanket, still half awake, and saw a skeletal hand resting on my arm.

“It was only a nightmare,” my master said in a serene voice.

I sat up, catching my breath. I had pushed Little Wolf unintentionally, but he had not woken up. The interior was still lit by the light of the lantern, but already there was no one there but my Master, Little Wolf, and me. I frowned.

“Where are the others?”

“In the tents, sleeping,” my master replied. “And so should you: you have hardly slept two hours. The hobbits have just left. That Yabir is more curious than a squirrel. He’s been trying to get stories out of me from the past… In those cases, my memory lapses are very convenient,” he joked. “Feh. As if the memories of a poor nakrus like me are worth writing in a book. I’d rather be alive and well in my bones, than written down and converted to dust.”

He smiled, I smiled back and asked:

“So, just like that, Yabir wanted to put you in his chronicle, too?”

“In his chronicle? He wanted to do a whole chronicle just for me!” the nakrus snorted. “I’m afraid he was slightly disappointed. But, believe me, that little being would have climbed the highest mountain in the world to see me. Curiosity and tenacity work wonders. And this young Baïra does not lack any. On the other hand, the other one, Shokinori, I think he’s bored to bones of traveling the world.”

He laughed and sat down on the trunk. I blinked and, fighting sleep, said:

“Elassar. Have you seen my brother?”

“Mno,” he admitted. “He didn’t show his nose in the cave. My appearance probably made some impression on him. But I will speak with him tomorrow, whether he likes it or not,” he assured. There was a silence, and then he added, “Go to sleep, little one. And don’t have nightmares. Do you want me to sing to you?”

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I smiled in surprise at the suggestion, and if one of my companions had been there, I would surely have said that I was not a little one, and that I did not need lullabies to sleep, but here I was alone with my master and Little Wolf. I nodded eagerly and lay down again, and in the silence of the night, my master, with his soft, serene voice, sang.

Three stars awake in the night;

One reddens, the other turns snow-white,

the Gem is turning blue.

Cradled by the three nymphs of air,

a necromancer looks up to the sky,

his face young and pure too.

He seeks out a path of roses

and, wandering on them, broods:

I can’t seem to pick them up.

All I trampled on were thorns,

rather than love me, the roses hurt me more.

Should I give up?

How blind a candid soul can be,

even when a magic torch

lights it dazzingly.

Should I open my own door?

As a thief, he’s opened many.

But will he be able to open his own door?

I looked at my master, my eyebrows furrowed as he fell silent. Noticing my scowl, his magical eyes smiled mockingly.

“Oh, come on. Would you prefer a lullaby of the old-fashioned, simple, pretty, uncomplicated kind?”

I huffed, swallowed, and muttered:

“Like, yeah, I would prefer it. I didn’t like that one at all.”

“Well,” the nakrus agreed. “You’re right. Too deep. Forget about it. Really. It was a stupid song. Okay, here’s a song as it should be, simple, pretty, and innocent,” he promised.

And this time he sang a normal lullaby. The uneasiness of his first song was dispelled, and I let myself be carried away by his melodious voice, and at last, I fell asleep in a serene and peaceful sleep.

* * *

The impending departure of my master had me in a state of agitation. Knowing that, in just three days, Marevor Helith would complete the opening of a magical portal in front of the mirror in the middle of the cave, Yabir peppered my master with questions, walked with him to the star rock, and the two of them spent hours talking, often accompanied by Dakis and Shokinori.

On the first day, my master tried to talk to my brother. I say “tried” because Kakzail hardly opened his mouth and, after a few minutes, he made up an excuse to get away from the nakrus. I had watched them from a distance, and at first, I thought they were angry, but when I reached my master he comforted me by saying: “The gladiator does not fear steel, but he fears death”. So what was happening was that Kakzail was afraid of my master. This, more than amusing me, resolved me to approach my brother and tell him not to worry, that my master was kindness itself… He merely cleared his throat and uttered an “I don’t doubt it” and entered the tent. Damn. I went back to my business: I gathered dead wood, carved a wooden wolf for Little Wolf, and in the afternoon, I showed the good Northerner how well I could climb trees. Sarpas seemed to be the only one of the bodyguards who didn’t hate the snow. And he even said it reminded him of his first nine years of life up north. At nightfall, as I was perched on a low branch, I asked him with great interest why he did not go home, since he had ceased to be a slave. The tattooed giant answered me in his terrible accent:

“My family sold me. They wanted to be able to feed my brothers. I understand that. I forgive that. But, they, too, will forgive me if I don’t come back. My home is where my heart is.”

He gave me a big smile, and I just shook my head in shock. I was surprised, not so much to hear that his family had sold him—in Estergat, that practice was not so rare—as to think that, all in all, his situation was somewhat similar to mine, except that instead of selling me, my parents had lost me. Interrupting my thoughts, Sarpas added:

“The sun is running away. It will be better to come back.”

I nodded, dropped the branch, and landed in the snow.

“How did you get away from Tassia?” I asked as we took the path back between the shrubs and trunks.

“Oh. Disguised,” the Northerner smiled. “As acrobats. As sailors. And as Rock Monks. We arrived in Raiwania and, afterwards, in Arkolda. A great adventure,” he assured. And he gave a deep, quiet laugh, remembering the escape.

This story of disguises aroused my curiosity so much that I asked him more questions, and he answered me as best he could, with hesitant sentences, telling how they had deceived the vigilance of the guards in Aramies, the capital of Tassia, and how they had improvised along the way, dodging patrols and finally crossing the For River to enter Raiwania. We were already reaching the camp when he said:

“It wasn’t such a bad life. We had good meals. And running away meant death. But when we met Zoria and Zalen, things changed. We wanted freedom for them and for ourselves. And we took it.”

He smiled at me and, finally arriving in front of the tent, he raised a hand and said:

“Good night, ushkra.”

Bending down to enter, he disappeared into the tent, and I stood there for a few seconds, lost in thought, before I walked away and up the slope towards the cave. On the way, however, whispers drew my attention. I saw two figures in the growing darkness. I thought I recognized my brother and the Blue One, and in my curiosity I approached them quietly, came to a nearby trunk, and listened. They were talking with obvious gravity.

“I’m talking seriously, Zo,” my brother said. He held both of the Blue One’s hands. “I don’t trust that nakrus, that’s true. But, if you believe that this monolith thing is not a joke, I’ll trust him. I really will. If you want to go home, I’ll go with you… unless you don’t want me to go with you.”

I blinked, puzzled. Go with the Blue One… where? She shook her head and replied in a slightly louder voice:

“It was only an idea, Kakz. So many years have passed… I am no longer the silly little girl who studied in Dathrun. Zalen is more sentimental and Narsh-Ikbal’s proposal has affected her. It has affected both of us. To think that I could be in Eshingra day after tomorrow… it is so unbelievable. But… give me time to think about it, Kakz. I need time.”

My brother sighed loudly.

“You only have one day. I mean, whatever you decide, you know…” He snorted, and as if bursting out of the blue, groaned, “Why don’t you tell me once and for all if you care about me at all?”

The question seemed to leave the Blue One both puzzled and nervous. She stammered:

“What? Of course I care about you, Kakz! You already know that.”

“And how do you expect me to know?” Kakzail grumbled. “I sing to you like a muse, and you never tell me anything. I love you, Zo, you know that because I’ve told you… I’ve told you many times. And you seem to say it with your eyes, but you’ve never said it out loud, so I’m starting to doubt, you know? Don’t blame me, but I’m starting to think that maybe you’re amused that an uneducated warrior like me is trying to win your heart.”

The Blue One let out a small laugh, and I saw Kakzail petrify.

“My heart,” she whispered. “That you’ve already conquered, Kakz. Long ago. You know me. When it comes to talking, I don’t do as well as my sister.” She hesitated. “If you’ll let me…prove it to you in some other way, perhaps…”

She fell silent. I saw them embrace and smiled broadly from my hiding place before frowning and thinking about what they had said. My master had suggested the twins go home… What did that mean? To them, going home meant… going back to their western lands, to Eshingra, and that… I widened my eyes. Oh, dear. So, just like that, the nakrus had offered to take them across the monoliths with him. And my brother was willing to follow Zoria if she decided to leave!

Dumbfounded, I hurried away and returned to the cave. My master had gone out to look at the stars, and I found Little Wolf perched on the chest, with puppet Master in his hands. I ruffled his hair and said to him:

“Are you hungry? Well, let’s make dinner!”

I lit the fire in the entrance, and warmed the lentils, and all the while—and even before I went to sleep—I kept thinking that Kakzail might decide to go to where the mouse and the cat greet each other. My master said that this journey through the monoliths would save him many moons of travel, that he would cover many, many miles in a few hours… To think my brother might go with him!

Despite a restless night, I awoke at dawn as usual and saw my master standing before the mirror, perhaps communicating with Marevor Helith through brejic arts. When he saw me sit up, he turned his head towards me and said in a jovial tone:

“Good morning! Guess what, boy! Change of plans. Marevor says the monolith will be ready in three hours at most. Go warn the others and tell them no one is to enter the cave until I give them permission. Take Little Wolf with you, will you?”

Not quite knowing how to take the news, I hurriedly dressed Little Wolf, grabbed him, and hurried out of there. I arrived at the two tents. Dalto and Shokinori were sitting outside by the fire. They looked at me curiously. I explained to them in one go:

“The monolith will be ready in a few hours! That’s what my master said. And also that no one’s allowed to enter the cave until he says we can.”

After a startled silence, Dalto rose and without a word walked into one of the tents. Dakis came out of the other tent, stretched, opened his big jaws in a yawn, and glanced darkly at the snow. Shokinori smiled and commented in Caeldric:

“Hopefully, we’ll be on our way before noon and back to more hospitable lands.”

The hobbit reached out a hand to scratch the ears of the hellhound, and I, not knowing quite what to do, sat down on the log by the fire and waited. I wanted to move, to go and see what my master was doing in the cave, to ask him if everything was going well, but in practice, I did nothing but wait and wait, until I saw the gladiators and twins coming out of the tents with their bags packed. I stood up with a dull fear and watched them go about their business. They were already dismantling the tent. Yabir and the alchemist soon appeared with their bouncing bags. The gladiators were talking happily among themselves in Tassian, so I could not understand them. Finally, when they had all packed their things, I dared to approach and ask timidly:

“Are you all leaving?”

Kakzail glanced at me and nodded.

“We’re leaving,” he confirmed.

They continued to go about, and feeling that I was in the way, I returned with Little Wolf to the fire. The fear was growing more and more intense. They were all leaving, I thought. They were all going to leave through the monolith and I was going to be left alone with Little Wolf. Only one thing was off: they were putting the bags back on the ponies, and the ponies were too big to fit through the narrow cave entrance. If the monolith was going to appear in the cave, how were they going to get the ponies inside?

I was still trying to solve the mystery when suddenly the hobbits and the twins looked up and turned at the same time towards the cave entrance. Following the direction, I saw my master come out and raise a hand… Finally. I stood up and joined him before anyone else. I looked into his eyes, questioning. Too upset by everything that was going on, the words were stuck in my throat.

“Ready and safe,” my master declared jovially. “Some of Marevor’s friends helped me carry the chest. The mirror, however, will have to stay here. Don’t go near it on any account, eh? Otherwise you might break the monolith.”

I tilted my head aside to look into the cave and let the air out of my lungs. There, near the mirror, stood a strange arch full of glittering energy. In the middle was darkness. Darkness as black as night. Well. So that was a teleportation portal… It was chilling just to look at it.

“You all haven’t changed your mind?” my master then asked as the others approached the cave. He smiled, “I see that none of you have. Then there will be four of us to cross the monolith.”

I gasped. Four? I looked at all the faces. Yabir had that wistful look on his face of one who is giving up on a great adventure, and from the weary, mocking glance Shokinori gave his companion, I deduced that they were not among those four. The Blue One’s face was solemn, and my brother at that moment patted the Northerner on the back. He said something in Tassian, and the latter replied with a smile. I did not understand anything, and I repeated to myself more and more nervously: but exactly who the blasthell was leaving?

I finally discovered it when I noticed the bags carried by the Alchemist, the Blonde One, and Sarpas. The others had left theirs by the horses. This reminded me that I had left Little Wolf by the already extinguished fire, and losing interest in the big event for a moment, I glanced around to make sure he was all right. He was fine: the little one was moving as best he could in the snow, towards us. He sprawled out. Rolling my eyes, I hurried to rescue him, and when I returned, I saw the twins embrace one last time before the big Northerner gently took the Blonde One by the waist and they went into the cave.

I didn’t understand, to tell the truth, but I didn’t try to understand either. I only knew that, for some reason, the Blonde One had decided to go home while the Blue One had decided to stay. As for the alchemist, well, maybe he was hoping to flee the Black Hawk for good and seek better fortune in a new land.

Crouching near the entrance with Little Wolf, I saw them cross the black monolith as if in a dream. First the alchemist, then Sarpas and Zalen together. And then it was time to leave for my master. Just thinking about it made my heart grow fonder, and it really hurt inside. I wanted to ask Elassar to come with me, but I knew that was impossible. He had to attend a meeting of the undead, and I had to return to the world of the living.

My master surveyed those present, his magical gaze lingering for a long moment on the Blue One, no doubt communicating brejically, and then he nodded slowly and focused all his attention on me. He held out a skeletal hand.

“Come here, son. Don’t cry.”

Only then did I realize that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I got to my feet and took my master’s hand. With the other, he lifted my chin. His green eyes seemed larger than ever.

“Courage and bravery, Mor-eldal,” he said to me. “Remember that I am watching over you. I wanted to say: thank you. When I met you, down there in that storm of snow, I didn’t think you would change me so much. But you did. You managed to wake me up again and pull me out of those mountains. That’s no small thing, believe me. Only a little necromancer like you would be capable of such a feat,” he joked. He placed a pretty ferilompard bone in my hand, and his eyes darkened, moved. “I chased you out of the cave when you were just a kid, and now… you’re starting to look a little less like one,” he smiled.

I breathed in sharply and found nothing to say. Swift was right when he said that farewells were ridiculous. Because there was no time to say everything, and one was stuck wishing one had a century to think of an answer. So when I saw Little Wolf crawling into the cave on all fours, I took advantage of the distraction, hurriedly entrenched myself in my gwakyest gwaky attitude, and grabbed the little one by the collar of his coat, calling out:

“You can’t go there, demorjed! Otherwise you will go away the Spirits know where, and then the dragons will devour you.” And, as if nothing had happened, without almost looking at him, I added a, “Ayo, Elassar. Good luck at the meeting.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my master smile, raise a hand in greeting to the others, and enter the cave. My eyes bulged, clinging to Little Wolf like a rope hanging over a precipice, I saw my master stop before the monolith and stand up majestically. Then he took a step, and the darkness engulfed him.

And that was it. Elassar was gone. The fact occupied my mind for a long moment, and Kakzail had to come and pull me away from the entrance of the cave to bring me out of my torpor. His face expressed a strange happiness.

“Come on, Ashig. We’ve got to climb down as far as we can before night falls on us.”

I followed him without protest. Long after we started walking, I could still see my master walking through the black portal. In my fist, I clenched the ferilompard bone.