“The Omphalos is where the world was born, the middle of everything. It’s your belly button,” Baram said. He pulled his shirt up and pushed a thick finger into the hillock of his belly. “If you go there, you can go back, to where you were before you were born. Go back in.” He poked his bellybutton repeatedly to demonstrate the divine procession of pilgrims ascending into another realm.

Hope avoided looking at his demonstration by staring at his face. “And the Sponsor?”

“It’s a heavenly force, a judge of sorts,” Liara said.

“It sees into your heart, judges your pain,” Nevio said.

“If you’ve suffered greatly, it opens your way into the divine realms,” the Comtessa said.

“If you don’t get accepted into the great nothingness, then you have to make the long journey all the way back home, hnmp,” Zorzio said.

“That sounds completely-” Hope started.

“Interesting,” Brunhilde interrupted. She knew Hope’s disdain for worship of gods and powerful forces. Princesses were the only thing to be worshipped in Hope’s pantheon.

“No,” Hope said.

“Yes.” Brunhilde said louder. She dropped her arm around Hope and squeezed her. “How far north is this Sponsor?”

“Maybe a day or two left now,” Baram said.

“It could be quicker if you didn’t have to wait for me, I know I slow you down, hnmp.”

“It’s safer together. I’d feel bad about leaving you on your own,” Baram said.

“No need to worry about me, hnmp.”

“We could travel with you and protect you,” Brunhilde interrupted.

Baram eyed the sword at Hope’s side, and the battle scars across Brunhilde’s jaw and hands. “Would you travel north with us? We heard there are bandits near the Omphalos, they take all your stuff. I don’t like being robbed.”

“None of you can fight?” Hope said. The pilgrims shook their heads. “I was learning to fence as soon as I could walk.”

“That sounds terribly dangerous!” Liara exclaimed. Nevio closed his eyes and shuddered beside her.

“If I got in a fight with a customer, I could bash his head in, but bandits with swords, nah. We could pay for your troubles?” Baram said.

“Five gold coins,” Brunhilde said immediately.

The pilgrims looked to each other. None of them seemed ready to part with any coin, despite their fear of bandits. Zorzio sighed and reached into his coin purse.

“I suppose my work could have paid me worse, I can pay for all of us, hnmp,” he said.

“Nah, nah,” Baram said. The other pilgrims all reached into their purses for a coin.

“Are you sure? I already have my coins ready, it’s a fuss to put them back, hnmp,” Zorzio said. He clutched the coins in his hand.

The others handed their coin to Baram and he handed over their four coins to Brunhilde. “Just one, put your coins away,” he said to Zorzio.

“Just trying to be generous, hnmp.” The whimper had a wounded sound to it. He leant over and dropped a coin into Brunhilde’s hand, his remaining coins disappeared quickly back into his purse.

Brunhilde dropped the coins with a clink into her purse. “We’ll keep off any bandits,” she said. She cracked her knuckles and continued to eat.

The pilgrims finished their meals in silence, lost in private thoughts. Hope watched them closely. The Comtessa sipped at her soup with a blank expression, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her kerchief now and again. The twins picked pieces of meat out of the soup one-by-one, chewing on it with glum expressions. Zorzio didn’t seem to be eating his soup at all, merely stirring it with his spoon. Baram was the only one who ate with gusto, slurping the soup and chewing loudly on every stalk and morsel he found.

She stared up at Brunhilde with anger. She had no use for any of these odd pilgrims, much less the obviously false god they were travelling to see.

“It’s worth five gold,” Brunhilde whispered to her with a smile.

“You are a poor loser,” Hope replied.

“Aye, maybe,” Brunhilde said. She drunk down the last of the soup. The butcher’s vegetables added a nice fragrant kick to the meat.

With the meal finished, the group made ready to leave. Zorzio began the epic task of dragging his case back onto the road as the other pilgrims gathered themselves on the road. Brunhilde killed the fire and then joined the group. Hope rose slowly from her seat, adjusted her cloak and sauntered over to the group.

“Lead on then,” Brunhilde said.

“Onward to the Sponsor,” Baram said. He hefted his pack, stuck his thumbs underneath the straps and marched north. The others followed after him.

On the road Hope tried to converse with the Comtessa. She was curious about the structure of nobility in these lands, but the Comtessa was frustratingly vague.

“Yes, I think I had servants. I remember iced tea in the sun, happy days,” the Comtessa stared into the distance.

“You don’t remember much do you?” Hope said.

“No. I woke in the fair city of Villenti. I think I walked. Perhaps I was abandoned by jealous servants. Sometimes I remember a hand in mine, strong and kind, my husband, I think. But it’s all obscured by mist. I questioned every family in the city, but none of them recognised my estates,” the Comtessa said. She had a pained look on her face as she recalled her desperate questing.

“You only remember small parts of your life? No definite images at all?” Hope said. This was an interesting mystery.

“Lily pads in the mist. If I step on one it sinks down. I can only bring forth fragrances, small pictures. None of them sustain any scrutiny. Ah happy days though, everyone is of joy and peace. I had a marvellous life, if only I could return to it. We had dances I am sure. If I tap my feet to the beat of the memory it disappears though.”

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

“Perhaps you’re a homunculus,” Hope said helpfully.

“A what?” the Comtessa was confused out of her reverie.

“A creation of magic, a forgery of a real person. A mage created a copy of the real Comtessa, for a political ruse, and then abandoned it. The real Comtessa is none the wiser, sipping iced tea on her estate right now,” Hope said.

The Comtessa looked down at Hope with shock. Her strange colourful cloak and golden hair waved in the breeze as they walked. The mage was staring up at her with a steady gaze like a student studying an unusual problem. The Comtessa was fixed under the intelligent coldness of Hope’s eyes.

“That’s an awful idea!” the Comtessa cried.

“Yes,” Hope agreed. “Could it be true?”

“No!” She stumbled on the ground and Hope put out a hand to steady her. She shivered with dread and resumed walking.

“It could be true,” Hope said.

“No, it couldn’t! Please stop! My memories are my only true happiness, of course they’re real.” The Comtessa started sobbing. The kerchief appeared again from her sleeve and she dabbed her eyes.

Bored with the conversation, Hope skipped forward to walk on her own.

Brunhilde was at the back of the group, trying to remain the last as lookout, but Zorzio inevitably lagged behind her as he struggled with his case. Eventually Brunhilde grabbed the awkward thing and slung it over her shoulder.

“Be careful, hnmp,” he said. He held his hands out towards the case imploringly.

“I won’t break it,” Brunhilde said.

“Oh no, don’t worry about my case. I mean yourself, don’t hurt yourself on my account, hnmp.”

Brunhilde, holding the case with ease across one shoulder, turned to look at him. His knees and hands were covered in dust from the road. He clasped his hands in front of himself like a squirrel. If he stood up straight he could have been as tall as she, but he was permanently cringing and hunched.

“Hnmp,” he said.

Brunhilde turned away and continued walking.

“You know, if you held it a little bit to the left it might make things easier, hnmp,” he said from behind her.

“I’m fine,” Brunhilde said.

“Of course. It’s just that I have bony shoulders so I find it uncomfortable that way. I don’t want to affect your sword arm if you need to fight bandits, hnmp”

“I know how to carry heavy things. I carried logs heavier than this over great stones and hills when we played games in my village,” Brunhilde said.

“I could carry some weight, help you with it? It doesn’t seem fair, that you are so strong you have to do all the work, hnmp.”

“Stop wittering,” Brunhilde said.

Zorzio whimpered and scurried close to her. “Sorry, I talk too much, sorry sorry, hnmp.” He looked up at her like a scolded hound. His hands were clutched in front of him, but she felt every twitch of his fingers as the case on her shoulder moved. His desire to reach out and steady the case was as palpable as a snake readying to strike a lone chick.

Brunhilde counted the paces she was making, something her cousin Norrin had taught her to bear long and boring journeys.

One. Hnmp went Zorzio as her foot landed and the case shifted. Two. Hnmp came the sound from Zorzio. Three. Hnmp. Four. Hnmp.

She made it to eleven steps before the simpering accompaniment was too much for her. She stopped and slowly dropped the case on the floor.

“Is it too heavy for you after all, hnmp?” he said.

“If I wanted to, I could carry that case with you on top all the way to the Omphalos and back to whatever burrow you lived in. But you paid me to protect you from bandits, not carry your weight. Don’t fall too far behind,” Brunhilde said. She left him to resume his struggles with the case, and walked forward to talk to Baram, who seemed the most reasonable of this odd bunch.

Baram nodded to her and gave a cheery smile. His big red face made him look out of breath but he was enjoying the exertions of the walk with ease.

“How did you meet these other pilgrims?”

“We met on the road, mostly. The Comtessa was on her own and I thought she could do with some company and protection. We met the twins further along. And then at the last town we met Zorzio.” He jerked his head backward.

“He is an irritating louse,” Brunhilde said.

“Yeah, he’s annoying. The Sponsor draws in all sorts of waifs and failures,” Baram said. He stared ahead on the road, somewhere north to his destination.

“You don’t seem like a failure. You’re strong, you know your craft from the way you cut our rabbits,” Brunhilde said.

“Depends on what you mean by failure. I spent twenty years studying the cuts under my old master. How to separate out the tender meat from the gristle with no waste. It’s an art, cutting meat. Now I got no-one to pass it onto.”

“No apprentice?”

“Nah, I wanted to pass it onto my kids. But they all moved away down the coast. They think they’re too good for their history.” He shifted his pack on his back and let out a gurgling burp.

“Why not take an apprentice?”

“It’s a family thing. My master was my father. We don’t teach family skills to an outsider.”

“I understand bonds of blood,” Brunhilde said. The cool breeze in the valley rose goosebumps on her arms. She had taken their gold to spite Hope’s winnings, but now she regretted agreeing to travel with these pilgrims. Hope was petty and mercurial in her moods but Brunhilde felt they had a shared destiny together. These travellers had given up on their futures because of hurts in their past. It was not her way to abandon herself to pain.

They walked side by side in silence for a while. She patted him on his back reassuringly. “We’ll see you safely to your destination then,” she said. Brunhilde watched the valley walls for signs of life. Some of the bushes had been grazed on by roaming deer, and where there were grazers there would be predators. She jogged forward to Hope’s side.

“We should make camp in a safe place, there will be cats or bears hunting here,” she said.

“I won’t be wasting any magic defending these miserable pilgrims,” Hope said.

“Ah, come on gold-hair! We haven’t had a decent fight for a while, a wrestle with a bear would be a fun time.”

“I suppose. I wouldn’t mind fencing with some bandits though, I’m forgetting my stances,” Hope replied. She lunged forward suddenly with an imagined sword in her hand. Behind them the Comtessa yelped with surprise.

“If a few of them scare themselves to death with their own shadows, I won’t be surprised,” Brunhilde whispered to Hope, who chuckled in agreement.

The breeze scampered through the scant tree cover on the hillside, adding a pleasant whisper of leaves to their walk. Bursts of stronger gusts from the north erupted against them and whistled away through the valley behind them. Brunhilde watched the hunting birds and smaller scavengers swoop and twirl above the valley. It was a peaceful walk north.

Later Brunhilde saw a nice spot on the hillside. An overhang of rock gave shelter which limited the approach of any wild beast. She ordered the pilgrims to set down for the night and climbed up a little higher to get a better view.

Hope followed Brunhilde up the hillside. She stared down at the pilgrims as they made camp. “I don’t like them,” she said.

“Me neither,” Brunhilde said. She sat down on a rock and idly sorted through the pebbles at its base.

“We should head south, there are fine parties and festivals on the south coast,” Hope said.

“I took their payment for protection,” Brunhilde said.

“Give them their coin. I’ll pay you back your wager.”

“You really despise them that much?”

“I don’t despise them, apart from that lagging heron. They bore me.”

“They lack fire in their breastbone,” Brunhilde agreed. She looked down at the group. The twins were huddled together, whispering to each other. The Comtessa was saying something to Baram, dabbing her eyes with her kerchief. Zorzio was whimpering on the edge of the group.

“Why travel all this distance just to disappear into some other realm?” Hope said.

“We left our homes, we’re pilgrims on the road of a sort,” Brunhilde said.

“I want to go back! And thought I can’t I won’t give up and throw myself into a cosmic belly-button. Which is likely nothing more than a well or cave with no magical influences,”

“You won’t tell me why you can’t go home,” Brunhilde said. She left a space for Hope to answer.

The Princess put her hand on her sword hilt. She stared across the valley as if invisible challengers waited for her on the opposite hilltops. “It’s complicated.”

“So it is. Complicated fate drew me far away from home. If I had no destiny on my shoulders, I would be home by the fire-side with my family. If I die out here all my stories will be lost, swallowed by Old Man Moon- Look at this!” she exclaimed with excitement.

Hope turned to see her clutching a small pebble in her hand. Not what the mage expected to see.

“It looks like a claw,” Brunhilde said with a smile. The pebble was dark and shaped like a wildcat’s claw. She rubbed her thumb over it, and slipped it into her runestone pouch with a satisfied look.

“Pebbles,” Hope scoffed.

“There is power in everything,” Brunhilde said. She stood and stretched her arms out. “That’s their problem. They’ve given up their fight already, they have no idea how much fight is still left in them.” She put her arm on Hope’s shoulder. “Let’s go eat. I’ll take first watch after.”

“Fine,” Hope said. She looked out into the sky. Even this far away from the sky cities she could feel their magic. They buzzed in the back of her mind like a gnat’s bite, itching and demanding attention with no relief. But she had earthly concerns now, food and then sleep before a night-time watch for predators in the dark.

The two friends climbed down to join the pilgrims and eat.