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Chapter XXXIII : Salvation

Earlmorn of Tertius, Fourth Day of Autumnmoon

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Bram opened his eyes. The world was dark and out of focus, but something cold and refreshing landed on his face. It rolled along the contours of his cheeks and neck, trickled down the side of his nose, and slipped through his partially opened mouth.

Water!

His chapped lips and peeled skin stung as he lapped up as much as he could. Each drop revitalized him, and clarity returned. He saw that the water came from a cupped palm, attached to an arm, leading to a child with wispy, white hair.

His eyes shot open and he bolted upward. Too quickly. He felt waves of dizziness and fell back down. The child scurried, eyes darting back and forth, like a feral animal.

“Please, wait,” he rasped, hand extended.

His head pounded, and the world spun. He felt nauseous, so he leaned over until it passed. He clutched his throat and coughed. Although thoroughly disoriented, he tried again to work his voice.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Please, don’t run.”

The child calmed and regarded him cautiously. As his vision cleared, he realized that he was surrounded by trees and vegetation. A sandstone embankment towered overhead, creating a protective nook against the agonizing sun. Just a few spans away, the desert stretched, as far as the eye could see. It was earlmorn, but he had no memory of reaching this sanctuary. Somehow, he had made it safely out of the desert sun. But there was no one to thank, save the child.

His helm lay within arm’s reach, while a placid pool of water was just a few spans beyond. It sparkled, clean and clear. He couldn’t hold back his thirst. While keeping an eye on the child, he inched toward the water, removed his gauntlets, and drove his arms into the spring. He brought a handful of the sparkling liquid to his lips and slurped its contents.

He repeated the process several times, until his parched throat was coated. The girl stared at him silently and made no moves to run or hide. He doused his head, washing away the salt and grime, letting it drip into his armor and sooth his itchy body. As soon as his throat was clear and mind refreshed, he faced the Gaian child.

“Do you have a name?”

The girl’s eyes never left him. She provided no response, but after a few moments, her lips trembled and tears slid down her cheeks.

He cursed, realizing how callous he must have sounded. He tried again, this time with heart. “I’m sorry, I … I haven’t forgotten the horrors you’ve faced.”

He wondered what else to say, but he wanted more than mere words. The weight of his sins was more than he could bear. He couldn’t even begin to form a worthy apology.

“I didn’t … I didn’t want any harm to befall your village. I swear. I was foolish. Naïve. I should have never even been there, but ….”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

She looked up, eyes the size of saucers. Her speech was just as stuttered and labored as before. “Wh—wh—wh … where’s? M—m-m—Mamma?”

Bram’s heart ached. He had no words to explain. “I’m … so sorry.”

She sniffed, looking dispirited. “Sh—sh—sh … she’s … w—with … Gaia?”

Bram nodded. It was all he could do. Despite his experience in war, he had never witnessed the face of suffering up close. He had never returned to the villages where he had orphaned children or widowed wives. It felt worse than he imagined. He deserved judgment, but there wasn’t a court nor higher power to hand it down. There was only his conscience. And in that moment, it judged him severely.

The child seemed to understand. Her shoulders slumped, and her face drooped.

He felt the need to reassure her. “You won’t be alone. I won’t leave you.”

He felt foolish saying it. Being this child’s guardian went against all his years of training and better judgment, yet he couldn’t accept anything less. No matter how hard or how difficult it might be, he had made a solemn vow. And there was no taking it back.

She stared at him pleadingly. “P—p—promise?”

His gaze never wavered. “Yes. I promise.”

Slowly, the girl inched forward, tiny arms extended. Instinctively, he opened his own arms and allowed her to embrace him. He felt unworthy. Worse, he was frightened. After all he had done, the child trusted him; yet, he wasn’t even certain he could keep such a promise.

Richard and Virgil wanted her dead, and the world wasn’t big enough to hide from them. With the awesome power of the sunstones, Angkor would become unstoppable. It seemed impossible to stand against them, much less while protecting a child. If ever harm were to come to her, there would be no forgiveness. His soul would be forever tainted.

The child looked up at him, and he saw her eyes for the first time. Ancient in truth. Ageless in wisdom. Boundless in knowledge. She tapped her hand against her chest three times, forming the intention of words on her lips, clearly trying to communicate something on the first try. When the words finally came out, they were clear.

“Yuri.”

Bram felt excitement. “ ‘Yuri’ … it’s your name!” He was delighted to succeed in his first real communication. He spoke slowly and tapped his chest in the same manner. “My name … is Bram.”

He reached out, remembering her concussion. “Your head. Does it hurt?”

The child shook her head and said nothing. She seemed to have no issues understanding. Bram was hopeful he could pose more complex questions.

“Yuri … do you know how we got here?”

She nodded, trying again to form words. “Wa—wa … waddles.”

The response didn’t mean much to Bram. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

Yuri pursed her lips and whistled. The sound reverberated through the air and echoed back from all directions. Bram felt his skin prickle.

“Whissss!”

Bram was startled. He spun around to find a viscar, which hadn’t been there before. Yuri didn’t seem all that surprised, however. She walked over and met the creature halfway. As the viscar approached, Bram noticed its bow-legged gait.

“Ahh … Waddles is its name.”

He chuckled. It seemed appropriate.

Waddles lowered its head and she hugged it, smiling.

It looked so much like a viscar, but Bram knew this creature was different. It was something the child had summoned. Intelligent. Magical. An aeon.

“F—f—friend,” she explained.

Bram wondered. “Did Waddles help us to get here?”

Yuri nodded enthusiastically.

Bram figured there must be more to Waddles than just a mount. The more he thought about it, he would have been on Death’s doorstop, if not for some kind of sorcery to help him recover. The sun had scorched his body, and he should have been baked alive. Yet there wasn’t a burn on his body. Clearly, Yuri’s aeon must have come with healing powers. Perhaps, more.

“Does Waddles know where we are?”

Yuri tilted her head, as if not knowing how to respond.

Bram decided to rephrase his question. “Is there a town or a village nearby?”

Yuri pointed toward the desert.

Bram was curious. He saw no visible interaction between Yuri and her aeon, and it wasn’t clear if the two had actually communicated, or if the child simply had an innate understanding of geography due to her magical nature. Judging by the sun, Bram figured the direction was roughly northeast. If Saladin was truly in that direction, he would have been relatively close to his original course.

He decided to trust the child’s prediction. Before heading out, he intended to bathe, disinfect his armor, and refill his canteen. Riding a viscar would allow him to reach the city before nightfall and greatly improve his chances of getting there safely. With a plan now set, he started preparations.