XXIII. WOKE UP LOST
Maleah awoke to the sound of trickling water and the haunting echoes of a cave or some other subterranean location. She bolted upright and clutched a silk sheet to her bare bosom. She looked down in confusion, she was in a bed, and while her eyes had yet to fully acclimate to the dark, the walls appeared to be stone. She cursed and debated whether she should call out to someone. Frantic, she scoured the darkened room; she was in a large bed, one fit for a king. It did nothing to explain whose bed it was or why she was naked in it. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she noticed geometric art etched into walls and sewn into bedding and tapestries surrounded her; the room itself was cavernous, as if carved from solid stone laced with veins of glittering silver. She tried to remember where she was, but it only brought about a pounding headache.
Maleah flung the covers off with a groan and was elated to find a pitcher of water at her bedside. She greedily gulped it down, choking on and spilling most of it. She set the pitcher down and took inventory of herself, trying to recollect what had happened, her limbs were all still attached, and she felt no pain, if not a bit warm. She last remembered stumbling out of that dreaded bog, the ungodly heat of the marsh and that border city Eefrit. Either someone picked her up once she escaped the marsh, or she got turned around and wound up back where she started.
She stretched and scratched herself as she scanned the room once more. Her lance was leaned against the wall in the corner, and she made haste to retrieve it, falling flat on her face as the sheets snagged about her ankle.
The weapon was in good condition, and the edge had not been dulled, if anything, it appeared to have been polished and sharpened. Wherever she was, she did not seem to be anyone’s prisoner. Maleah searched for her clothes next, but they were nowhere to be found. She fumbled around in the dark, searching for a chest or a wardrobe so that she could meet whoever it was in something other than her skin.
She placed her hand on a metal pole in the corner of the room to steady herself and the top of it erupted into brilliant light. She shielded her eyes from the sudden illumination, taking several hesitant steps back. When her eyes adjusted, she saw it was a lamp, which barely brightened half of the cave, with the light coming from a round orb on top of the pole. She reached out and touched it again, this time the light grew dimmer. She touched it a third time and was once again left in darkness. She swore and swatted the pole a fourth time and it became bright once more. She turned around and took in the room with an impressed whistle.
“Where the fuck am I?” She breathed to herself.
On the far side of the room was a spring that bubbled gently. Above was a square hole in the ceiling that went up and out at an angle to what she assumed was the outside. While she could fit, the angle was far too steep to climb out, assuming of course that she could even get up to the shaft to begin with. She made her way back to the bed and wrapped herself in the sheet, and then went to examine the spring. She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide with terror.
“Oh shit, Taryn.”
She had not been alone when she entered the marsh. She had a full company of men and horses with her, in addition to the Sorn woman that had led them out of the Wraith Wood. It had been a hell of a struggle when they first met; she had to keep the woman bound for most of the journey with only the threat of mutual starvation if they did not get out of the wood convincing her to aid them. When they made it out, she had given the woman a spare horse and some supplies before sending her on her way. Though not exactly sure why, she ended up following them, despite having lost everything to her brother’s madness. Maleah wondered if the Priestess had been on to something, was she really so, empathic? In her eyes, she bore as much guilt as her brother Osric in this whole dreaded affair. She wished she could see Séverin; he would be able to take care of everything, as he always did. She wanted to hear his reassuring voice; she wanted to know where she was.
“I thought I told you to stay behind.”
Maleah looked up to see the stern face of her brother Séverin standing in the doorway. All that she wished to tell him, all she wished to ask flew from her mind as she leapt up and landed into his open arms. Her tears flowed freely as she embraced her brother as if he were a lifeline. Séverin failed to choke back his own tears as he addressed his sister in their native tongue, losing all self-control, he openly wept with his lost sibling over their grief-laden reunion. One of their flock failed to come home.
“You asshole,” Maleah managed after several moments of weeping. “You said you’d stay ’til Therion.”
“I thought you’d be safer Maleah, believe me, I had no idea things would turn out as they did. Please, please sister, forgive me. Forgive me…”
“No, it is I who needs forgiveness, I did nothing to stop him, even when you pleaded with me. And when he did what he did at the temple… Séverin he—”
Séverin placed a finger to her lips and shushed her. “You needn’t relive that terrible ordeal; the clerics of the temple told me all I need to hear, more than I desired to know in fact…”
Maleah looked up into her brother’s eyes, her own filled with tears. She scrunched her face up into a pout and clutched the sheet closer to her chest. Séverin smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek, and she suddenly struck him with her other hand.
“Why the fuck am I naked Séverin?”
“What the hell Maleah?” He swore as he rubbed his cheek. “I don’t fucking know, the only people that have been in here are Io and Clarissa!”
Maleah crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. “Well, sorry, I don’t like waking up naked in strange places.”
“It’s fine.” He sighed. “I should have told them or something.”
“I think it would suffice for zee two of you to forgive each other and call it even.” Clarissa said as she stood hesitantly in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt dzis tender moment, I can come back if dzat’s alright?”
“No, please, come in.” Séverin said as he turned to greet her.
They exchanged a peck on the cheek, and he took the bundle of Maleah’s freshly laundered clothing from the cleric and set it on the bureau. Maleah wrapped herself in the bedsheet and looked the woman over, she was human, probably from Duvachellé judging by her accent. She wore her hair down in loose curls that fell past her bare shoulders. Her gown was plum colored silk with gold lace and a black sash about her waist with a bow in back. Maleah could not help but notice the woman was abnormally bashful, and her brother was also acting strangely. Maleah plopped down on the bed, suddenly lightheaded.
“Are you alright?” Clarissa asked as she ran over to Maleah.
“Yeah, fine,” Maleah said with a dismissive wave, “who are you?”
“Oh!” Severin grabbed the woman by the arm and gently pulled her forward, “Right, this is Sister Clarissa, we’ve, um, been traveling together the last few months. She has been looking after you while you were convalescing.”
Clarissa embraced the light and knelt with a slight nod before she laid hands upon Maleah; it felt as if a warm wave washed over her body, removing all hints of pain and discomfort, leaving euphoria in its wake. It was probably as close to Elysium as she would most likely get.
“How do you feel?”
“Fantastic.” Maleah purred. “Wait!” She said as she bolted upright. “Where’s Cookie?!”
“What?” Clarissa asked, looking to Séverin for some clarification.
“Don’t worry!” Séverin said laughing. “She is safe, happily grazing in a field; I can take you to her later. But now, you need to rest.”
“I’ve been resting brother.” She said reluctantly, conjuring the will to rise.
“I thought I’d never see the day Maleah.”
“What day?” She retorted.
“The day you choose to work rather than sleep the day away.”
Maleah smiled weakly. “I owe it to someone. Where is Taryn? And my men? Did they all make it all right?”
“Yes. The huntress is with good people. Your men however,” Séverin took a deep breath and let it out exasperatedly. “They are being detained.”
“You mean imprisoned. Well, why the Dusk are they still there? Why didn’t you break them out, we can’t just leave them to rot in some damned elf prison! These are good men Séverin!”
“I know sister; I am doing all that I can, but they are being well taken care of. Of this I assure you.”
Maleah attempted to protest further, only for Séverin to silence her.
“I am in charge of them Maleah, please don’t worry. Aichlan too is a good man. From what I can tell.”
“Aichlan? The priestess Renata spoke of a knight by that name, is he him?”
“Yes, he is.” Séverin brushed a stray strand of hair from his sister’s face and kissed her on the forehead. “Now please, get some rest.”
“But she said he was dead, how is that possible? He was at Arlien, there were no survivors.”
Séverin paused at the door. “He was mistaken for the dead and overlooked, it isn’t important Maleah you need to—”
“No, our men burned the dead before they threw the remains into the Tear. There was no way for anyone to survive.”
Séverin and Clarissa exchanged stunned looks. Maleah felt guilty, this Aichlan fellow sounded like a noble guy from what the Priestess had told her, and she did not want to cast doubts on his character. While it was unlikely that the man was overlooked, it was even more unlikely that anyone escaped from Arlien. Osric had the main army surround the fort just as soon as the Arliens fled the field. If he were a deserter, he would have died for sure, before he crested the first hill.
“I’m not saying the man’s a liar, and I doubt he’s a deserter, it’s just that we were very thorough with the disposal of the dead. Osric was feeling particularly spiteful towards The Order that week.”
“You should rest Maleah.” Séverin opened the door a crack. “Aichlan may not care for us Xanaviens, but he is a man of his word.”
Maleah threw herself back onto the bed with an irritated groan, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.
“I need to get up Séverin.” She moaned.
“Then do so, no one is stopping you.” He responded unsympathetically.
“I can’t!” She whined. “Brother, help me.”
“Help you? Maleah if you are going to get up then do so, if not then just stay in bed. I need to speak with your lieutenant anyway.”
“Please? Séverin!” She wailed, pouting.
“Maleah!” He mimicked, as Clarissa stifled giggles. “You do realize how immature you sound don’t you?”
“No…” she replied innocently.
Séverin glared, attempting to remain firm, but found himself to be no match for her pouting lips and kitten eyes. “What do you want Maleah?”
“Giving in so easily Séverin?” Clarissa teased.
Maleah allowed a victorious grin to creep across her lips. “Coffee.”
“Is that it?” His tone was that of a parent questioning a child that had just made a meal of cake and iced cream.
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“With a splash of vodka and cream please.” She added as she made herself comfortable under the covers once more.
Séverin shook his head in dismay. A “splash” was usually a half-and-half mixture for her. “I’ll be back with some food Maleah, and water. At least try to rise by the time I return.” He exhaled without much expectation.
“You make it too easy for me brother.” Maleah teased.
“I have a weakness for my indulging my sister’s bad habits it seems.” Séverin stripped the covers from Maleah’s head as he left.
She shrieked and fumbled to cover herself, but he was already out of the room, taking the sheet with him.
“Light damn it Séverin!”
“I took zee liberty of cleaning your outfit.”
“Thanks.” She replied as she eyed Clarissa suspiciously. “Who are you again? And how do you know Séverin?
“Well, we met in Eefrit and traveled through zat ‘orrid marsh together. He ’as lent a sympathetic ear and offered kind words since. I suppose you could say we are, how you say, ‘bosom buddies,’ no?”
Maleah half-heartedly returned Clarissa’s smile. “Well lucky you. All he ever seems to give me is criticisms.”
Clarissa smiled, seeming not to hear her remark, and waved goodbye before she hurried after Séverin. She closed the door gently behind her, leaving Maleah to plop back on the bed with a groan.
* * *
Aichlan leaned against the wall outside of Maleah’s room, debating whether he should enter when Séverin exited. He had many questions to ask her. How had she managed to escape and from where? Where was Osric’s army now, and was Renata still alive? The huntress had yet to recover and Aichlan doubted she would provide many answers. Her presence only gave rise to many more questions.
“How is she?”
Séverin appeared surprised by Aichlan upon exiting his sister’s bedroom. “She is making a swift recovery. Though there is an underlying issue that must be addressed in time, our brother’s treachery affected her more than she is willing to admit.”
Aichlan bowed his head as he leaned against the wall. “Sister Emarosa spoke very highly of Maleah; quite a few of them did in fact. She treated all of Osric’s prisoners with humanity, even Renata…”
Aichlan caught the brief flicker of a smirk on Séverin’s lips. It was to be expected, he was a man who always had or strived to have the upper hand, at least that was Aichlan’s perception of the man. Aichlan, by contrast, wanted to hear word of his lost lover; he wore all his pain and confliction upon his sleeves, he would not be able to brooch the subject without giving that up. Ever since he heard that Renata was still alive, after having been brutalized by the fiend, he could neither sleep nor eat. He should have been concerned with planning their next move but could do nothing but dwell on what was and what should have been done. He could only imagine what such thinking could do to his concentration if they went to battle tomorrow. It was a wonder he was still alive.
“I would like to speak to her, to express my gratitude. When she is up to it that is…”
“I will let her know, but tell me, have you changed your opinion regarding us, or do you just seek news regarding your lost Priestess?”
Aichlan tried to avoid the deliberate bait and stood up straight to face the enigmatic traveler they had picked up.
“You are no humanitarian Séverin; of that much I am certain, though your desire to end your brother’s madness appears...genuine. I have yet to form an opinion on your sister as we have yet to meet, but the outlook is good. Is that fair?”
Severin stared deeply into Aichlan, as if scouring the man’s very soul, breaking his gaze with a non-committal snort. “Yes, that seems fair enough.”
“But is it? You must understand that it is my desire, nay, resolve to administer justice for his crimes. When such time comes, I shall expect treachery due to your blood relation and guard myself accordingly. Until then however, I value you as an ally.”
Séverin recoiled slightly and swallowed hard. Aichlan stared into his eyes for several moments; they were dishonest, hidden and always open for some miniscule detail others might have overlooked. His honesty was likely a shock to the system. There was no way Aichlan could outright trust the man, but he did have his skills and uses. It would be foolish to make an enemy of him now, and he seemed to get along well enough with Clarissa.
“I see. I can live with those conditions for the time being. But what of Maleah’s subordinates? They left with loyalty to their commander and Xanavene. I can personally vouch for them as most were soldiers before this conflict began, not the conscripts and criminals that make up the bulk of his forces.”
“That decision is not up to me. Should the council clear them I shall respect that decision, even push for it. But I would be hard pressed to allow them into our small company.”
Séverin’s calm collected façade had cracked, his face was red as he tried to reign himself back in. Aichlan was glad he finally beat the man in his own game; Séverin was the type who had gotten his way for far too long. He should not have had any true cause for being upset however, it was only logical. How could one gather up an army when they march with banners of the very army they wished to defeat?
“And what could be your reasoning for such a foolish resolution? Even if the elves join your struggle that may not be nearly enough, especially now that he commands the forces of dusk. This battle concerns all of Silex! It goes well beyond nationalist ideals and petty vendettas.”
“I am aware of this Séverin.” Aichlan snapped, now aggravated. “I have been in my fair share of battles, I am a commander first, protecting those I lead and trust to follow me. No,” Aichlan lowered his tone and locked his dull blue eyes with Séverin’s. “My concern is that when it comes down to it, would those men be willing to turn sword against their fellow Xanavien, men they’ve fought and trained with? And would I be willing to ask that of them to begin with?”
Séverin was silent.
“I would not, therefore could not expect anyone else to either. That is the reason for my doggedness in the matter Séverin.”
Séverin nodded slightly, and he stepped back. If this situation did not involve his kin, Aichlan doubted that he would have riled him up so much. He could see many similarities between them, both were on a mission and both worked at their own tempo. No doubt Séverin had everything planned out to the last detail, with the only major roadblock being constraints imposed by others and their lack of direction. While he could empathize, he was not willing to hand over command or just let the man do as he pleased. There was no guarantee that their goals were identical in the end, or that their methods would be compatible.
Clarissa exited Maleah’s room and gingerly closed the door behind her. “Oh, Aichlan. What are you doing here?”
“I came to check upon your patient, but it seems all is well under control. I have to meet with the council again; I will stop by again later in the evening.”
“Oh, well I wish you luck.”
“I shall need more than luck sister, but I thank you for your concern. Good day Clarissa, Séverin.”
“Hold, Aichlan.” Séverin called.
“Yes?”
“Do you have any siblings of your own?”
“No, I do not.” Aichlan replied curiously. “Why do you ask?”
“Then you could not possibly understand our plight.”
Aichlan remained stoic. He could only guess at to what plight he spoke of, but whatever it was, far more was at stake.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised my sister breakfast.”
* * *
“If our borders are at risk, we must raise a defense!” Barzilai yelled over the uproar of intense arguments.
The council had reconvened and none of the tensions had been alleviated, and the same arguments came anew. For the past hour, they had been arguing in circles leaving Aichlan dizzy and frustrated. The insult of having the council decide whether to listen to him was fortunately over, replaced by this current debacle. Aichlan sighed as he wondered if Rhodarcium’s senate worked as inefficiently as this.
“True enough, but I’ll not leave so important a task to some miner whose only battles were extracting ore and gems from inner Rhode!” Donough countered, igniting another frenzied debate.
“You all act as if war is inevitable! Who’s to say the humans your lot picked up didnae bring their war to us!” Qeb spat, shaking an accusing finger at Órfhlaith.
“Oh, daen’t start this again.” Trahearn groaned.
“Why the fuck are ye aiming that grubby finger at me?” Órfhlaith snapped.
“Órfhlaith! Another outburst like that and I’ll have ye removed from this council!” The chairman warned.
“Ye don’ wanna kick off with me mate! I ain’t takin’ the piss fer this one! And I bloody well won’t sit on these laurels blowin’ smoke outta me arse whilst some blighter comes and tries ta make a bloody fool outta us all!”
Órfhlaith rose and attempted to get in close to Qeb but was subdued by Fairuz and Trahearn. Cheers went up as Qeb conceded in embarrassment, slinking back into his seat. Aichlan buried his face in his hands. This firecracker of a woman was representing him and his cause, and quite poorly at the moment. He was tempted to ask for new representation.
“As fer ye lot!” Órfhlaith continued, turning her rage to the warrior clan. “As I recall, I got most o’ me decorations from beatin’ on yer folk Donough.” She smiled conceitedly as he snarled in response.
“That’s it! Get her outta here!” The chairman roared.
“Bloody git.” She retorted with an obscene gesture as she was escorted from the council.
“We need soldiers out there, not a bunch of ore-greedy moles and cowardly farmers!” Enyo cried out over the commotion.
“Cowardly!” Déorsa thundered. “You insolent twerp, if it weren’t fer lower Rhode, the whole blasted moun’ain woulda bean o’er run during the cleansing!”
“Oh hush! That was over a millennium ago.” Hratchouhi said, causing everyone to direct their attention her way.
“Does the smithing union have anythin’ to add regarding the issue?” The chairman asked exasperated.
“National security aside, I think it’s a great idea to get involved. The other nations will be gracious and indebted to us for the aid rendered. I hear this Osric bloke made a right bloody mess o’ things. When it is all over, we’ll have our ‘allies’ by the short hairs. I think it’s high time we graced the global stage with our presence, better than holing ourselves up in this mountain till the end o’ time.”
“Not just that,” Gage of the merchant guild added excitedly. “It would be a chance to increase trade. They will need weapons and armor to fight with, and material to rebuild.” He said with a sly grin towards the mason representatives.
“Bah! We lived millennia without their money! What the hell do we need it now for?” Déorsa spat disgustedly, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.
“Sit down old man, it’s not about greed. At least not for all of us.” Enyo said, shooting the merchants and smithing union’s dirty scowls.
“If this fool Osric does intend to invade, an example must be made of him, lest any more humans see Rhode as an easy target for invasion in the future.” Lothaire said to a general murmur of agreement.
“What of Lord Aichlan’s request?” The chairman asked, his hands pent together. “He asks for support in liberating Elysia.”
“That is not our concern.” Lothaire said dismissively with a shake of his head. “Our concern, as it always has and will be, is Rhode and our sister city of Eefrit.”
“Isolationism?” Exclaimed the female merchant. “That’s why we are so far behind as it is. The rest of Silex considers us cave dwelling savages for exactly those reasons!”
“Hratchouhi has an excellent plan, and the more we sit here twiddling our thumbs, the more likely Petal Falls or even Yggdrasil will swoop in and corner the market.” Explained Gage authoritatively.
“Alfheim disnae even know what goes on ootside o’ their wood, nae do they care. That is exactly the stance we should be takin’.” Tlalli argued, with an uproar of support from her fellows of lower Rhode.
“I believe that we are all in concurrence that we cannot allow this madman to even enter Rhode, so the best course of action would be to meet him elsewhere.” Lothaire said calmly as the hubbub subsided. “The warrior clan rallies to me, and we are wary of this Aichlan. We just daen’t know enough about him. We will, and must fight, but it shall be for ourselves.”
“Speaking of Lord Aichlan,” the chairman interjected. “Where the devil is he?”
A murmur went up as they all wondered the same; unaware that Aichlan had given up on them long ago and left the council chambers in disgust.
* * *
Aichlan leaned upon the balcony of the Temple Adroushan, the sky was blood red from the smoke and ash speckled his hair grey. They had come to seek council of the keepers of the temple, with hopes that they could intervene in the council and convince them to render aid. They had been waiting for word for over two hours. He took a drink from a bottle of liquor and set it down on the rail, staring off into the darkened horizon. He was stressed well beyond his limits as the bureaucracy of the elves made The Order look like a well-oiled machine of perfect efficiency.
Ashe was in the main room discussing the matter further with Eth and Kielan, Aichlan had had enough of discussion and had excused himself to take in the cool night air, no matter how polluted it was. Lightning crackled silently in the massive ash cloud as he took another long drink of the Rhodean rum. Eth had gotten drunk and violent, even now his slurred threats and curses pierced the veil of tranquility Aichlan had erected around himself in the serenity of the hostile landscape. Despite the associated dangers of being upon an active volcano, Rhode was one of the most beautiful places he had been in.
Behind him, a large golden egg the size of a child sat atop an altar of sculpted metals to resemble a flaming nest. Beneath it, a fire raged along with several fragrant oil lamps. The room was enormous and relatively austere, compared to the temples of The Order at least. Some sort of festival was nearing, and a regular flow of worshippers made their way to the temple with offerings to the fire: flowers, oil and other fuels that doubled as potpourri.
“Hope you found your resolve boy, the eleventh-hour fast approaches.”
Aichlan did not even turn to acknowledge Garrick; he was not in the mood for more reprimands.
“What is there for the dead to do Garrick? What do you do when you are given a second chance at life? Do you squander it as you did previously, blindly trying to accomplish what you failed to do the first-time round? Or do you learn from your mistakes, and take it as a blessing?”
“That depends a great deal upon circumstances.” Garrick stroked his beard as he joined his son on the rail. “No one wants to be a hero, and those who do seldom become one. It is those who do so out of necessity and duty that prosper, giving no heed to fame or glory.”
“I don’t want any of that. I just want to live again.” Aichlan said as he took a drink.
“Is this not life? You are more flesh and blood than I.”
Aichlan shook his head. “Aye, but for how long? What if I do succeed in whatever task you set up for me, then what? What if I save Renata, would all go back to as it was? Do I really even want to go back?”
“You can never go back, that is the nature of life my son. As we move forward, all that was is committed to memory and nothing else can be done but dwell on the issue that can’t be altered; or learn from it and not repeat the same mistakes.”
“I neither dwell nor learn; where does that leave me?”
“Square in the crossfire. But the question is will you choose to run and hide, or stand your ground?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Aichlan snapped as he turned to face Garrick, but his father was gone.
“Blast…” Aichlan took a drink and looked back into the main hall at the golden egg upon the altar.
“What the hell am I doing here?” He muttered exasperated.
A war horn sounded in the distance, causing a chorus of alerts to resonate in response. “Now what?”
Eth stumbled angrily out to the balcony and finished off his bottle of rum, dashing the bottle to the ground upon emptying it. “The bastard!” He slurred.
“What the hell is happening now?” Aichlan asked as Eth snatched his bottle.
“Yer war made it tae Rhode lad. The bastard wants tae die it seems.” Eth shouted as Aichlan took the bottle back and set it on the ground. “If the bastard wants a slaugh’er, then a slaugh’er he shall have.”
Ashe burst out onto the balcony, her flushed cheeks the only color on her blanched face. “Aichlan, Eth, we gotta go.”
“How many are there?” Aichlan’s adrenaline surge shook off the alcohol’s buzz as he recalled the massacre of Fort Arlien.
“Loads.” Was all she managed as she took off again.
“Damnit!” He swore as he attached his sword to his belt and took off after Ashe with Eth hot on his heels after he retrieved the bottle of rum.