Chapter 25

24 August 149 Third Age

The minute hand of Carrack’s pocket watch swept past midnight, heralding the arrival of a new day—a day shrouded in the same familiar dark clouds and persistent rain, with only the muffled promise of sunlight that seemed indistinguishable from the night’s shadows. As he and Alaina strolled along the fort’s ramparts, rain droplets dotted the glass face of his watch. He quickly wiped them away before tucking the watch safely beneath his overcoat.

While his overcoat shielded him somewhat from the rain, Alaina was well protected in her dark, hooded cloak. With no hair or hat to guard his head, raindrops effortlessly ran down Carrack’s scalp. But his beard absorbed the moisture, leading to a nagging itch that he tried to ignore. The silence between them was thick, only punctuated by the storm’s rhythm. Carrack had a topic lingering on the tip of his tongue but found it hard to articulate.

Alaina broke the quiet first.

“You have a violin?” she asked, glimpsing toward his quarters. “I noticed it on your bed.”

Carrack’s face momentarily lit up with a hint of a smile. “Ah, that. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” He then shared the instrument’s backstory, the nostalgia evident in his voice.

“You must have really cherished it,” Alaina observed. “But I’ve never heard you play.”

“I gave it up,” Carrack confessed.

“Why?”

A shadow passed over Carrack’s face as he recollected more recent memories tied to the violin, particularly the cryptic journal entry debating whether to burn it. “Honestly, I can’t say. There was a time I deeply enjoyed it, but after a tour in Vodanar, my passion just … faded. Strange, isn’t it?”

Alaina seemed lost in thought, murmuring softly.

“Alaina?” Carrack nudged gently.

“What was your tour in Vodanar like?”

Carrack exhaled slowly, reflecting on his challenging experience there. Vodanar Princedom was a tragic example of a failed state. It had emerged as one of the several territories that broke away from the unstable Afonland, largely due to Orenian influence. Its proximity to the Orenian mainland and the presence of lucrative silver mines meant that the Republic of Oren had a significant stake in Vodanar’s stability. But it soon became evident that the nascent state was plagued by ethnic conflicts and foreign interference. The escalating unrest and outbreaks of violence prompted Oren to deploy peacekeepers to the region, and Carrack had been amongst them.

“It’s all a bit fuzzy, like trying to see something through fog,” Carrack admitted. “But the one thing that sticks out is this constant feeling of being on edge. It was hard not knowing who was on our side and who wasn’t.”

“Sounds tough,” Alaina said, nodding slowly. There was a softness to her voice, but she seemed to hang on to every word. “So, how’d you get through all that?”

Carrack shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I guess I just found a routine or something to keep me busy. I usually remember things like that better.”

“But you can’t remember now?” Alaina asked.

“No,” Carrack sighed. “It’s all a blur.”

Alaina paused, thinking. “Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t remember. I’ve heard tales about the battles there. Horrible stuff. Maybe your mind is trying to protect you.”

“Do you really think that?” Carrack questioned. “Because I’m not so sure. I’ve been having nightmares, and sometimes I hear things even when I’m awake.”

She looked away, taking a deep breath. “Tell me about it.”

As they walked, Carrack described the strange noises, the ominous presence he felt, and the unease that had gripped him since arriving on the island. He mentioned his unsuccessful attempts at seeking help from various temples before finally turning to Lady Matilda.

“You saw her?” Alaina’s tone changed, becoming more guarded.

Carrack nodded. “I did.”

She sighed heavily, her distrust for Lady Matilda clear. While Carrack knew Alaina generally didn’t trust many spiritual figures, her particular distaste for Lady Matilda stood out. He’d never thought to question why.

“What did she do?” Alaina’s voice was both curious and wary.

“It felt like … it made things worse. But also better? I began recalling bits from Vodanar, but it was all so vague. I couldn’t finish the session with her. I was too terrified,” Carrack admitted.

“Terrified of what? What did you see?”

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Remember when you talked about the mysteries of our minds? It felt like I was diving into mine. There’s another layer underneath my memories. And she let me glimpse it.”

“And?” Alaina pressed.

“I didn’t see anything, not really. But I felt fear, pain, and this weird satisfaction mixed with guilt. I’ve never felt anything like it. It left me sick and angry.”

Alaina studied him closely, her brow furrowed. “Could she have drugged you? Some incense or something?”

“I thought of that, but it’s been a while since our meeting. Yet, I’m still seeing things,” Carrack replied, frustration evident in his voice.

“Some drugs can leave a lasting imprint even after just one use,” Alaina said.

“You may be right about the drug thing. But there’s something else,” Carrack said, hesitating. “When that ship hit the docks … I was right there. I took the full force of the crash. I think … I think I died.”

“Died?” Alaina’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

Carrack relayed what little he remembered from that surreal experience, noticing Alaina’s focused attention as he spoke. Yet, her reaction was underwhelming.

“That’s … interesting,” was all she said.

“Just ‘interesting’?” Carrack echoed. “That’s it?”

“Yes,” Alaina replied. “It’s certainly remarkable. But if you’re hoping for me to decode that for you, I’m as baffled as you are.”

“I guess I was hoping for some wisdom,” Carrack sighed.

Alaina shrugged. “I may not have sage advice, but I can try something else.” Her tone became more assertive. “How about I make something for you? To counter these … visions?”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Carrack was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to pull you away from your work. I’ve already taken up so much of your time.”

“It’s no bother,” Alaina said. “I might have something that can stabilize your thoughts. I’ll get started now.”

“If you’re sure …”

“Completely. Come with me, it won’t take long,” Alaina said, motioning for Carrack to follow. He did, silently.

The fort lay enveloped in darkness, it being close to one in the morning. Sentries increased their patrols on the ramparts, moving silently as they scanned the horizon toward the distant city. The courtyard echoed with the howls and whispers of swirling winds, making Carrack very aware of nature’s unpredictable temperament. The wooden planks meant to ease their walk had been betrayed by the mire, sinking deep into the mud. As Carrack felt the cold dampness creep into his boots, he couldn’t help but grumble internally about the drying process they’d need later. Meanwhile, Alaina seemed to glide effortlessly across the yard, her feet barely touched by the mud’s grasp.

Descending into the catacombs beneath the fort, Carrack was greeted by a sharp scent of incense, which hung in the air like a light, smoky veil. Alaina shared that this was her remedy to neutralize the less pleasant odors resulting from surgeries and treating the injured. Moreover, it had a soothing effect on recovering patients. As they walked down the central corridor flanked by rooms housing patients or her makeshift farms, Alaina paused. Asking Carrack to wait before her quarters, she promised to return shortly with the medicine. Though a brief surge of irritation bubbled up in Carrack, he masked it with a nod and a smile. He watched Alaina’s silhouette vanish in the smoky haze as she continued down the corridor.

Initially, Carrack stood with patience, but the discomfort of his tired arches—legacy of his long military career—prompted him to shift his weight from foot to foot. This only intensified the sensation of water squelching in his boots, aggravating his discomfort. As moments turned into minutes, he decided to search for a place to rest his feet, but stopped when he arrived at Foeham’s chamber.

Upon entering, the aching in his feet became an afterthought. A palpable melancholy hung in the air, intensifying as he drew closer to where Foeham lay. The sight of his friend, ensnared in a relentless comatose state, pierced Carrack’s soul. Although Foeham’s injuries bore hints of gradual healing, each ragged breath he took underlined his painful ordeal. Carrack considered speaking, hoping against hope that Foeham might recognize his voice. But every potential word, laden with remorse, retreated before he could voice it.

Regret bit at Carrack’s core. If he had accompanied Foeham during the investigation, he might have reined in the man’s recklessness. The decisions clouded by his emotions now seemed rash, especially green lighting such a dangerous operation. But the heaviest shackle weighing him down was the secret deal he had struck with the teamsters. If he had been forthright about it, perhaps they wouldn’t have found themselves trapped on those treacherous docks. While Carrack was no stranger to shouldering responsibility as a leader, the weight of this particular lapse was hard to stomach.

After some time spent beside Foeham, Carrack decided to move on. He took a chair from the room, intending to find a clearer spot down the hallway to await Alaina. As he walked past the chamber containing the unidentified survivor from the derelict ship, an inexplicable sensation halted his progress. Carrack had initially dismissed this stranger, believing him incapable of providing the answers he so desperately sought. Yet, as he continued down the hall, an almost ethereal beckoning reached out, whispering with intrigue. The call was gentle but unyielding, though not powerful enough to compel Carrack toward the unknown man immediately.

As he continued his exit, something shifted at the edge of his vision. He thought he detected a faint movement from the stranger. Turning reflexively, he realized his mistake—the man was still unconscious. But the mysterious allure persisted, growing stronger, entwining itself with Carrack’s natural curiosity. Drawn back, he found himself standing over the unconscious man, observing him with fresh intrigue.

Upon closer inspection, the stranger seemed frailer than Carrack had previously noted, even more so than how Alaina had described. Lines of age and fatigue mapped his face, leading Carrack to speculate that he was likely in his fifties. Swathed in blankets provided by Alaina, the man rested peacefully. His clothes from arrival, now somewhat cleaner after several washes, were folded in a corner. A few personal items adorned a nearby table, including a ring suspended from a necklace chain. The thin gold band bore an internal inscription, but time had worn away the words to an indecipherable blur.

Also amongst the possessions was a compact, brown leather journal, its closure a thin elastic band stretched to its limit, struggling to contain the myriad of loose papers stuffed within. Carrack lifted the journal, examining its well-worn cover and substantial weight. His gaze oscillated between the journal and the mysterious stranger, temptation mingling with speculation. Maybe this is where some answers are hidden.

His fingers toyed with the elastic, easing it away from the cover. A moment of reluctance fluttered through him, overshadowed by the vivid memory of the ship plummeting towards the shore. This brief contemplation allowed him to slip the elastic off and open the journal, his quick reflexes stifling the burst of papers. He began to peruse the contents but halted. A peculiar sensation pervaded the air, souring his curiosity, prompting him to spin around, searching for the unseen presence, but found nothing—only the silent stranger, his breathing the sole whisper in the room.

Before Carrack could delve back into the journal, Alaina’s voice echoed down the hall, drawing his attention. She peeked into the room, eyes widening slightly upon seeing him, before stepping in. In her hand, she held a small glass vial filled with a dark green liquid. Her gaze followed him to the journal he was holding.

“Ah, I see you’ve taken an interest in our guest,” she remarked, a hint of wariness in her eyes.

Lifting the journal, Carrack said, “Why wasn’t I informed he had this?”

Alaina shrugged. “It’s not the treasure trove you might hope for. Go on, see for yourself.”

His brow furrowed, Carrack opened the journal. The moment he saw the familiar script, his heart sank, and a chill ran up his spine. “Vinterpolan? What in the world?”

“It goes deeper than that,” Alaina whispered. “Examine the symbols on those documents.”

His fingers traced the imprinted symbols: a detailed marble column—the undeniable emblem of Vinterpol. But what caught his attention was the small flame atop the column. A gnawing feeling of dread settled in, but he couldn’t quite place the symbol’s significance.

Taking a deep breath, Alaina revealed, “You’re looking at the journal of an Imperial Inquisitor of Vinterpol.”

Carrack’s eyes widened, and the journal nearly slipped from his trembling fingers. A chilling realization struck him. He was in the presence of an agent from one of the most feared and zealous factions on the continent. “Without restraints, without any guard,” he murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief. Swiveling to Alaina, his tone grew sharp, “You knew about this?”

Alaina met his gaze steadily. “The moment I saw that symbol, I recognized his role. An Inquisitor.”

Carrack’s frustration boiled over. “Then why didn’t you raise an alarm? Do you understand the danger he represents?”

“I’m well aware of the Inquisitors’ dark reputation, Lord Carrack,” Alaina said. She moved toward the unconscious man and pulled back the cloth, revealing iron shackles binding his wrists and ankles, chains anchored securely beneath the table. “Considering the myriad crises we’ve faced, I deemed it unwise to burden you further.”

Carrack’s jaw tightened. “Yet you deemed it wise to leave him unguarded?”

Before Carrack could say more, Alaina pointed to the room’s entrance. “Observe.”

He noticed chalk-drawn symbols encircling the doorway. “A protective charm?”

“Sandman’s Charm,” she clarified with a hint of pride.

“So, a barrier?”

Alaina shook her head. “More of a safeguard. If he attempts to breach that threshold, he’ll be incapacitated instantly.”

Despite her reassurances, unease lingered in Carrack’s eyes. “Your precautions are scant comfort.”

Alaina’s gaze never wavered. “I don’t blame you, Lord Carrack. You can never be too cautious with someone like this. Believe me, I wouldn’t think twice turning him into pink mist if he wrangled his way out of everything.”

The weight of the situation pressed heavily on Carrack. Every revelation seemed to add to a spiraling list of concerns. He wanted to trust Alaina’s judgment regarding the security of the inquisitor, but with each passing moment, more questions plagued his mind. Why was an inquisitor aboard an Orenian-class ship? Had he stowed away in secret? Could the vessel have been commandeered? What fate had befallen its crew? And the explosion—the ship had detonated as though it were a mere powder keg waiting for a spark. The uncertainty of it all was maddening.

A sudden wave of lightheadedness washed over Carrack. His persistent battle against exhaustion was faltering, especially under the weight of the inquisitor’s revelation. It was becoming clear that he couldn’t push himself any further. His eyelids felt like they had lead weights attached, threatening to shut at any moment.

Without diverting her gaze from Carrack, Alaina lifted the vial she had earlier brought. She offered a comforting smile. “Take this before you lie down,” she said. “It’ll ensure a sound night’s sleep and might even help push aside those troubling thoughts.”

With a resigned sigh, Carrack replied, “This is going to taste awful, isn’t it?”

Alaina raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with mock amusement. “If medicine tasted pleasant, it wouldn’t be medicine, now would it?”