image [https://i.imgur.com/9JnFmXw.jpg]

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Rick brushed away some of Mirabelle’s tobacco ash, cleaning the stool next to Fig’s sickbed, and sat down.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,’ he said as he propped his new crutch against the wall, ‘I went to get some food and rest, and then Mirabelle wanted to talk to you alone.’

Fig moved gingerly as she rearranged herself on the bed to face him; there were heavy shadows under her eyes, and her skin had a washed-out pallor. Still, she was drastically improved from the state she’d been in when Rick and Dorian first got her to Saltcrust. A wide trail of Fig’s blood was stained into the jetty outside, left over from when they’d dragged her aboard The Rogue Wave as she teetered on the brink of death.

‘Don’t worry about me, I’m just sorry I passed out and missed your big teleportation spell,’ Fig said, leaning forward, ‘I need to thank you for getting me out of that temple.’

‘No thanks necessary,’ Rick waved her off.

‘I’m serious. I’ve never been injured like that,’ she said, looking down at herself, ‘I thought I was dead, closest I’ve ever been by a long shot, but you got me to Saltcrust and Mirabelle’s healers. That’s the second time you saved my life.’

‘And it’s the second time you saved mine,’ Rick said, ‘You tackled that Ragon’ta in the tunnel. I never even saw it coming, but you were there in time to stop it taking my head off with a knife, so don’t worry about it. We’re even.’

‘Huh… I guess we are,’ Fig said, ‘Well, thanks all the same.’

They looked at each other, both tired and beaten up, but relieved to be alive.

There was a shared weight to what Rick and Fig had been through in Vishrac-Uramis. Rick felt it, forming a kind of unspoken bond between the two of them. It was like the way he felt with his older sister when they talked about their memories from childhood, and all the shared experience that came with those recollections. But he’d known his sister forever, and Fig for only a few days, so it surprised him just how strong this new connection felt. Was it one sided, or was Fig also aware of it?

‘I told you I’d help find safe passage to your next port of call,’ Fig said, breaking the silence, ‘You said something about heading to the Eire Coast, is that still your plan?’

Rick had been thinking about that very question an awful lot over the past few days. He got the Book out of the pouch he wore at his hip, before answering.

‘The Eire Coast is where the Book thinks I need to go. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet,’ he said.

‘No?’ asked Fig.

‘No,’ Rick said, ‘Everything I’ve been through since I met you has shown me just how unprepared I am for this journey. You’ve seen that with your own eyes. I came so close to dying, twice, in the space of a couple of days.’

He looked down and sighed, ‘I don’t have any idea how to handle myself in the Outerlands. I don’t know how to fight, or who to trust, or what dangers I should be looking out for. I don’t even know how to use my magic properly. I tried to cast a spell on that Ragon’ta, but I couldn’t even finish forming it before I got knocked out.’

‘That’s only because you were too close,’ Fig said.

‘I know that now, but at the time I was so focused on getting a spell cast as quickly as possible, that I didn’t make sure I was out of reach. So I made a bad decision that could have got me killed,’ Rick explained, ‘I don’t even remember getting hit, everything just went white and then I woke up in the Floating Chest with Dorian fussing over me, and a broken shoulder.’

He rubbed the place where the healers had fused his bones back together. It still ached, and the healing experience had been horrible.

‘I’m pretty certain that heading to the Eire Coast on my own will get me killed within days of arriving,’ Rick said, ‘maybe even hours, If half the stories about that place are true, and I really don’t want to die.’

‘That’s understandable,’ Fig said, looking at him curiously, ‘So what are you going to do?’

Rick looked down at the Book, turning it over in his hands. It thrummed with expectation, also waiting to hear his answer.

‘I’m nervous to ask you…’ he said.

‘Rick, after what we’ve been through, you can ask whatever you like. The worst thing I’ll do is say no,’ Fig assured him.

‘Ok,’ Rick nodded, ‘I hope the past few days have proven that I can be a useful companion. I’m still learning how to wield the power this Book gives me, but it can solve problems your sword sometimes can’t.’

‘That’s true,’ Fig said, ‘Slimy Lez showed that very clearly.’

‘So…I want to travel with you for a while, not forever, just until I’m ready to set out for the Eire Coast on my own,’ Rick said, looking up and meeting her eyes.

She looked surprised, rather than put off, so he kept going, ‘If you agree, I won’t be a dead weight. I’ll earn my keep. I can conjure light, or cast whatever small spells you might need. I can sense and identify magic. If you let me, I’ll help with your missions however I can. All I ask in return is that you watch my back while I keep practising my magic, and perhaps you can teach me how to handle myself better in the Outerlands… What do you say?’

Fig was quiet for a long moment, she eyed him up and down, her gaze lingering on the Book in his hands.

Rick’s heart sank. She was going to turn him down, he was sure. She didn’t want the job of babysitting him while he learned to stand on his own two feet.

‘You promised me,’ Fig answered at last, ‘that when we finally got out of Vishrac-Uramis, you would tell me the story of how you found that Book, and what happened to you before we met.’

‘I did,’ Rick recalled.

I want to hear your full story before I make my decision,’ she said, ‘That Book makes me nervous, and I’d like to know what I’m getting myself into if I agree to travel with you.’

‘That’s fair,’ Rick swallowed, ‘It’s a long story.’

‘That’s fine, while I have nowhere to be,’ Fig said, and sat patiently while he considered where to start.

‘Ok… I’m a member of the Crichét family, as you know,’ Rick said, ‘We’re Orend lower nobility, clients to the Brightwillows of Brightlodge, though we mainly managed their property and holdings Vostrel.’

He took a breath, finding his rhythm as he spoke.

‘I’m the youngest of three children. My older brother, Marcos, was groomed to take over as the head of the family. My father schooled Marcos in business, and how we handle contracts for the Brightwillows, but he didn’t bother passing that knowledge or responsibility onto his younger children.

‘My older sister, Rachel, turned out to be a martial prodigy, and eventually someone who could use divine power. She swore oaths to the Order of Illumination, and she swiftly rose through the ranks to become a Knight Errant. I don’t get to see her much nowadays. She travels across the continent looking for quests befitting a holy knight. Evil-doers to vanquish and all that…’

‘I’ve heard stories,’ Fig said, ‘Illuminate Rachel Crichét. She’s supposed to be terrifying.’

‘She’s a big softie, unless you get on her bad side,’ Rick said, smiling at the memory of his sister in full plate armour, giving him a crushing hug the last time she left home.

‘But with her gone, that left me as the only child without a vocation,’ he continued, ‘I wanted to study arcana at the Magisterium, but my family prefers its ties to the church over academia, so my father had me inducted into the Order of The Enduring Dawn, who have more political clout than the Order of Illumination. I think he hoped I would make connections that would be useful to Marcos when he took over the family in the future.

‘The masters knew I was no good in arms and armour, so they assigned me to work as an Archival Squire for the Order’s Brightlodge Chapter, assistant to Knight Archivist Hesselbur. I was there for three years.

‘It wasn’t the path I would have chosen for myself, but Archivist Hesselbur seemed to like me. I was quiet and studious, and I had a great faculty with languages. Within the first year he gave me near total access to archives full of religious and occult lore, which I read voraciously. I restored documents, made study visits to local parishes, and taught junior classes in the Chapter’s boarding school. My life there was pleasant but uneventful, until recently.

‘At the start of this summer, five squires arrived from the Vostrel and Westport Chapters, planning a tour of the Lordswood. They said it was a pilgrimage to visit the Aspects’ local holy sites in the western Heartland, but everyone knew it was really a loose pretence for a hunting trip. The scions of the noble families, especially the higher Alfir aristocracy, could get away with bending the rules like that, as long as they weren’t too brazen about it.

‘My Chapter’s leadership ordered me to accompany them, Archivist Hesselbur trusted me and vouched for my level head. I guess they thought I would be a restraining influence on the other boys, being a year older than the others and more inclined to reading than hunting. I didn’t know any of the other squires especially well, so it was awkward for the first few days out of Brightlodge. I tried to talk to them but we were very different people. Andre Jacszil was the squire who organised the trip. Did you ever meet him?’

‘Not personally,’ Fig said, ‘but I know a bit about the family.’

‘They’re high Alfir; cousins by marriage to the Mindaris Imperial line,’ Rick said, ‘Andre is a spoilt second son with a mean streak. He walked around like a big deal and gave orders to the others, all boys, and mostly the sycophant sons of Jacszil client families; they did whatever he said. Thankfully, he mostly just ignored me.

‘About a week into the trip, one of the squires, Brost Seldric, was struck from his horse and gored by a giant boar. The others ran down and killed the boar while I tried to patch Brost up, but he had a deep gut wound that we couldn’t properly treat.

‘We were a day and a half’s travel into the deepest part of the western Lordswood, the map showed no marked settlements anywhere near us, so there was nowhere he could get proper medical attention. It got dark, and we were forced to make camp for the night. We talked about sending someone to ride to the nearest town to find aid, but no-one was confident about navigating miles of forest in the dark. Brost’s condition got worse. He was feverish and wailing in pain. I knew he was going to die unless we got help.

‘The other squires panicked. I don’t think it had ever occurred to them that someone could actually get hurt on the trip, let alone die because we had no access to healers. They started arguing about what to do. Andre got angry and blamed me for not knowing enough medicine to treat Brost. Everyone was shouting, and nobody had a solution.

‘That’s when a young woman emerged from the forest, and told us to follow her back to a village in the next valley, where Brost could be healed. She said her name was Syringa. She was of a caste I’d never seen before; her skin was so pale it was almost blue, and she had violet eyes.

‘Brost had passed out by this point, so we made a litter out of tent-cloth, and dragged him through the forest, following Syringa, until we reached a valley with a hidden village, full of people who looked like her, as well as some others of more familiar castes. It was past midnight when we arrived, but they had torches lit, and the whole village seemed to be out to watch for our arrival.

‘The village was small, perhaps only sixty or seventy people, mostly elderly from my first impressions. It had a communal feeling. The whole thing was built around a central green. They had long huts with thatched roofs, growing plots for crops, and a stream nearby that ran down the valley.

‘It seemed idyllic, but the more I looked the more I saw that they had pagan idols displayed everywhere, and eldritch symbols carved into their doorways, exactly the kind of occult iconography they warn Enduring Dawn squires to watch out for.

‘I recognised some of the text as Eire script, and there were a dozen other archaic languages present, only some of which I could understand. Everything I could translate was blasphemous; there were prayers and artwork praising the Aspects’ fallen servants, those who rejected Orot’s plan for Splinterra. I realised then that we’d stumbled into the middle of some kind of cult.

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‘The people of the village seemed angry at Syringa for leading us to their home. It seemed that was why they were all out of their houses. They’d heard us approaching, and they were wary of outsiders. Despite that, Syringa argued for us, and when they saw the condition Brost was in, they begrudgingly offered us shelter and healing.

‘The other squires were getting uncomfortable with the iconography of the village, but they didn’t understand it like I did. Brost needed treatment, and we were in the middle of the forest at night, so I didn’t say anything to cause more alarm, hoping we could get Brost healed and then get out of there as soon as possible.

‘When we got to the healer’s hut, they took him inside and wouldn’t let us follow, which made Andre and the other squires nervous. Syringa tried to reassure us that the healer required solitude for the healing ritual.

‘We waited outside, while the villagers watched us, until we heard screaming.’

‘Oh shit,’ said Fig.

‘Yeah,’ Rick nodded, ‘Then, it all kicked off.’

‘We burst through the door, and found out it wasn’t Brost screaming, it was the healer.

‘She was some kind of bone witch, covered in eldritch tattoos. The the healer’s hut had racks of caste bones set up in ritual effigies. It was alarming to look at, especially for us with our religious background. Brost had woken up on her altar and freaked out. He thought she was trying to sacrifice him or something, so he stabbed her in the chest with his knife.’

Rick shook his head as he remembered, ‘I can’t say for certain what her intentions really were, but in hindsight I don’t believe those villagers meant us any harm, despite how sinister everything first appeared.

‘The other villagers were calling out in panic. They tried to get into the hut to help their healer, but the other squires were already at their wits’ end. I’ve gone over and over these events since, and I think I understand what pushed them to act as they did, even if it horrifies me. Those boys were exhausted, and frightened by the village full of occult iconography. They felt surrounded, and trapped. The sight of more blood, and of Brost hysterically screaming about human sacrifice, pushed them over the edge, and they all drew their swords. I was the only one who didn’t.

‘Andre cut down the wounded healer and shouted for the rest of us to defend ourselves. The other squires' eyes were wild, and it was like they went into a terrified frenzy as they started swinging at whatever came close. I screamed at Andre to stop, at all of them, but nobody was listening. More villagers ran into the hut and attacked us, trying to save their healer, I think, but they were disorganised and didn’t have weapons or martial training that we did. The other squires started butchering them, and when they fell back, the squires followed.

‘Syringa was outside the hut. I heard her begging us to stop. I finally drew my sword and tried to defend the villagers against my own companions. I stabbed one of the other boys in the shoulder, before they overpowered me. Andre hit me in the temple with the pommel of his sword so hard he cracked my skull and knocked me down.

‘I was dazed, throwing up. My head was bleeding. I couldn’t do anything as the squires left the healer's hut and blocked the door from the outside. They trapped me and Brost. I don’t know if they were trying to keep us safe, or just keeping us out of the way, but I could hear more screaming as the villagers fought to defend themselves against the squires.

‘Dawn’s light,’ Fig cursed quietly. She covered her mouth, and her eyes were sad.

‘I guess in the chaos someone must have knocked over a torch, or accidentally spread fire to the thatch roofs of the huts. It was a hot summer’s night, and there hadn’t been rain for a few days. Everything was so dry. The fire spread fast. I was still struggling to stand after my head injury, I didn’t realise the hut was burning until it was too late. The windows were too small to squeeze through and the door wouldn’t open.’

Visions of shadow and flame swam in Rick’s head as he recalled every moment from that night, burned into his memory.

‘Brost was crying. He barely understood what was happening,’ Rick said, ‘and there were still voices shouting outside but the other squires didn’t come back for us. It was so hot I could hardly breathe, the air burnt my throat. Burning debris was falling through the ceiling onto us. I couldn’t avoid it. The last thing I saw before the flames leapt to my clothes and swallowed me was the healer; she was barely alive, with a knife sticking out of her chest, and a sword wound ran through her, but she was still crawling towards me across the ground, and her eyes were glowing green.

‘Then I was on fire…. It was–’ he shuddered and shook his head, ‘I don’t think I can do the feeling justice with words, but I’ll never escape it. I was burning alive, flailing around, rolling on the floor, but nothing stopped it.

‘At some point the roof collapsed on us, and I was covered by a mass of burning thatch and timbre. The pain was all I knew.

‘Finally everything went dark. Even the sensation of burning faded. I don’t know how I was still thinking at that point, but I was vaguely aware of something lifting me up onto the surface of a dark raging ocean without end, and I was so afraid. I’ve never been more terrified before or since. I was dead. I knew that I’d died, and whatever was happening to me, was going to be the last thing I ever felt before oblivion.

‘But whatever took a hold of me in that dark place, didn’t take me to Sumat’s care. I don’t know what it was, but it offered me a second chance. It said I didn’t need to die, and I could have power, even the power to restore myself, If I was willing to serve.

Rick wiped his working eye. It felt hot like he was crying, but since the fire he’d found that his body would no longer produce tears.

‘I accepted the offer. I was so afraid of dying. I would have done anything to escape it. So I made a deal with… whatever it was, maybe the Undying King, or some other unholy creature that prowls the space between life and death, stealing souls from Sumat. I still remember what it said. “You are mine, Rickard Crichét… Body and soul”.

‘The next thing I remember, I woke up in the smouldering debris, naked and cold, and I was… like this,’ he gestured to himself and flipped up his new eyepatch to show his ruined eye-socket, ‘Whatever unnatural power revived me, didn’t bother fixing most of the damage to my body, so I look like a burnt corpse, which I guess is what I am. Even magical healing won’t restore my body to how it was, I can only recover from injuries I sustained since I woke up, which means the damage goes deep in my ethereal state. I’m still trying to understand exactly how it works.

‘I’m so sorry, Rick,’ Fig said.

‘That was a month ago,’ he said, quietly, ‘Actually, more than that now; five weeks.’

‘You still haven’t told me how you found the book though,’ Fig said, ‘Where was that?’

‘That was just after I woke up,’ Rick said, ‘There was rain falling on my face. The weather had finally broken. It was day again. The village was full of bodies, and all the huts were burnt down, along with some of the forest nearby, but the rain stopped the spread of the forest fire before it could get too big.

‘There was no sign of the other squires, or any surviving villagers. I suppose some must have escaped by running into the forest, but I never came across them. Brost was dead. I dragged myself out of the collapsed hut and stumbled around. I was horrified by my new body, it felt like I was a zombie or some hideous monster. Everything hurt so much. But then I felt something else, like a string pulling me, whispering and calling. It frightened me, but there was nothing I could do but follow it. It led me to an old grave, around the back of the healer’s hut. There was a shovel nearby and I could feel something telling me to dig.

‘When I dug down, I found an old corpse, holding this Book,’ he held up the Book of the Undying King.

‘It was clutched in its hands and wrapped in cloth. It should have been ruined by the damp and worms, but it was untouched. As soon as I held it, the pain from my injuries started to fade, and I felt a little stronger, strong enough to steal some clothes from the dead and start walking. I didn’t know where I was going at first, just away, away from everything that happened in that village. Days passed. On the journey I started reading, and I knew that the Book was a part of whatever bargain I’d made for my life. I’m connected to it, tied by some ethereal tether. I can’t leave it behind… I tried a few times, when I was testing the curse. The compulsion to recover it gets stronger with every step I take away from the Book, until it’s overwhelming and I can’t think about anything but obeying.’

He stowed the Book away in its pouch.

‘Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get my old body back and break this curse. My connection to the Book is the only thing keeping me alive right now. I need to learn how it works so I can change it. That’s why I came to Vishrac-Uramis. The Book told me there might be information linked to death magic and Sumat, but all I got were more questions, and a possible lead that pointed me to the Eire Coast. Something happened there, something important to Sumat and the Forgotten War, and the Book wants me to see it, eventually. But as I said, I don’t think I’m ready yet.’

‘Did you ever try going back to the Knights of the Enduring Dawn, or to your family?’ Fig asked.

‘I considered it, but…’ Rick gestured to himself, ‘I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I’ve avoided people as much as I can, until now. It’s not safe for me, I think, especially in the Heartland. Even if they recognised and believed me, The Knights would view me as an undead monster and destroy me, and my father… He would never take me back as I am now.’

‘I see,’ Fig said

‘There’s also the fact that I must have been reported dead by the other squires,’ Rick said, ‘I approached Brightlodge a few weeks ago, back when I was still trying to figure out where I should go. On a tavern noticeboard close to the city, I saw a poster stating that “Enduring Dawn Squires Rickard Crichét and Brost Seldric were savagely attacked and killed by cultists while on pilgrimage through the Lordswood”. The poster said the Order were offering rewards for information linked to more cult activity in the region.

‘As far as anyone is concerned, Rickard Crichét died in that fire, and they’re right,’ Rick said, ‘I’m a dead man, at least until I can get my old body back, and maybe forever. I don’t know if the Book is really trying to help me, or just sending me on its own weird missions. The more I look back at what happened in Vishrac-Uramis, the more I think that meeting you and recovering Whisper were the real reasons I was meant to be there, but I can’t be sure.

‘And… that’s the whole story, I guess. All the important bits at least. I don’t pretend to understand what’s happening with me, Fig. I don’t know where it’ll end up, or how dangerous it’s going to get. I can’t make any promises, but I’m doing my best… I guess that’s all I have to say.’

Rick rested his head in his hands, his already hoarse throat even more worn out from all the talking.

They were both quiet for a while, with just the soft sound of the late evening waves on the hull to keep them company..

‘Ok…I’ve made my decision,’ Fig said, then looked sheepish, ‘I actually made it when you were about halfway through the story, but I wanted to hear the whole thing.’

Rick’s head popped up, ‘And?’

She fixed him with a serious look.

‘Rick, I’d be honoured to travel with you,’ Fig said, and she held out her good hand.

Rick could hardly believe it. He offered his own hand in return, and she shook it, sealing the deal.

‘You aren’t worried I’m going to become some undead monster?’ he asked.

Fig laughed, then groaned and held her ribs, ‘Shit, those are still a bit tender.’

She gave a soft smile, ‘No, Rick,’ she said, ‘I’m not worried about that. You’re a decent person. The Book’s magic frightens me, but I feel better knowing that you’re the one wielding it. Even if it tries to lead you astray, I think you’ll do the right thing.’

‘So you trust me?’ Rick asked.

She looked him in the eye and nodded her head once, ‘I’ll watch your back, if you watch mine.’

‘Of course,’ Rick responded.

‘Good, that’s settled then,’ Fig sat back in bed, ‘Phew, that makes everything a lot easier actually.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rick asked, still a little dazed.

‘Well, Mirabelle just offered me one last job, as her bodyguard at the Lovers’ Festival, and I was kind of excited to go to a resort town during the summer,’ Fig said, ‘But I wasn’t going to break my promise to find you onward travel, so I told her I’d have to speak to you first.

‘However, now I know that you’re going to be travelling with me, I can take the job and bring you along without having to worry about letting Mirabelle down, which is a weight off my shoulders because her tantrums have been known to involve dismemberment,’ she gave him a grin, ‘How does a voyage to Loverlock sound?’

Rick could hardly believe it. Loverlock, Lake Allura, The Lovers' Festival. It sounded too good to be true.

‘You’re serious?’ he asked.

‘I am,’ she assured him.

‘I thought we’d be heading off to some new tomb or something more… mercenary-like. But, Loverlock, that’s… amazing! Yes, please. I want to go. I’ve never been,’ he said, starting to ramble in his excitement, ‘I always wanted to see the Lovers’ Festival, every single year, but my family never attended.’

He remembered all the crazy stories people told him when they returned home from the Festival at the end of summer, and how he’d always felt left out when he was the only one of his friends that missed it. It was supposed to be a spectacle you had to see to believe.

‘Wow, you’re really excited about this. Great! I’ll give the good news to Mirabelle then,’ Fig said with a satisfied smile, ‘I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear we’re on board, if you’ll pardon the pun.’

Rick saw Fig pause then, and cock her head as something new occurred to her, ‘Just out of curiosity, where’s Dorian? I haven’t seen him since the temple, and I wanted to thank him for getting you to safety. Has he left town already?’

‘No,’ Rick shook his head, ‘He kept pestering Mirabelle for an exclusive interview but she wouldn’t do it, so he left the ship earlier to go and explore Saltcrust.’

‘On his own?’ Fig asked, sitting up.

‘Um, I mean, yes,’ Rick responded, ‘Is that a problem?’

‘Fig pinched the bridge of her nose and tilted her head back with a grimace, ‘That idiot. He’s one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met, and he’s walking around Saltcrust alone at night. He’s going to get himself stabbed in an alley.’

‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Rick said, ‘He’s eccentric, yes, but not that bad, and he’s only been gone a few hours; how much trouble could he have gotten himself into?’

Fig opened her mouth to answer, but was sharply interrupted as the Boom! of a distant explosion shook the port.

The water jug on Fig’s bedside rattled, and they heard hundreds of seagulls shrieking as they took to the skies in unison, undercut by the roaring echo of the explosion that still reverberated across the bay.

Fig and Rick stared at each other in shock, then Rick scrambled up and peered out of the porthole.

A crackling cloud of smoke and arcane lightning billowed into the sky from the flaming husk of a destroyed building, further inland and uphill.

Shouting voices came from above. Moments later, squads of armed pirates raced down the gangplank and across the docks, heading for the site of the explosion.

‘You might have your answer,’ Fig said.

‘You’re joking,’ Rick said, ‘There’s no way that was Dorian!’

‘I don’t know, Rick. Bad things happen when he’s around,’ Fig said, ‘Think about it; the sunworm attacked that archeological dig, all his fellow prisoners got eaten in the Floating Chest, and then the Ragon’ta ambushed us; how certain are you that he hasn’t found himself in the middle of some other disaster?’

Rick looked up at the cloud of smoke as it dissipated above the nocturnal glow of Saltcrust’s lanterns and melded into the night sky.

‘Fuck.’ he said.

[End of Chapter 13]