Prelude 9 - The Little Death

Flailing, Cestia dashed an arm out to restrain Kaye. She shook her head. He glanced from her rigid hold to the prostrate man. Kaye explained, “It seems weird.”

Sharply, Cestia nodded her head and agreed, “Exactly!” Her eyes traced the tree line, checking for some reflection of predatory, menacing eyes. Even though Kaye remembered instantly from the text that this area contained no native predators, a detail which filled him with a flare of pride for retaining, he readily agreed with Cestia’s caution that something was wrong.

Coughing into her hand a few times with her head turned away from the feculent, rotten scent, Cestia expressed, under a breath she tried not to trade freely with the ruined air, “Great blessings of Asgard and the will of the Valkyrie... all right, I have an idea. Can you manage a moment?“

From Cestia’s pained expression, Kaye suspected that she would think no less of him if he took several steps back or fled to press his nose into the nearest tree. Again, Kaye understood death. Well, he didn’t presume to completely understand it. Who could? But his father showed him many things in the wilds around and the worlds within their farm at an early age. Perhaps too early, but he was proud to be included and curious to see.

It was a rough, foreboding first month of winter with five left to fight through. At that age, Kearny didn’t understand how calves were made and his father didn’t bother to explain why a cow had one so late. They already lost several calves and cows to random troubles and mysterious illnesses.

While his father guided the stillborn calf from Alem’s body, it was Kearny’s job to look into that cow's dark eyes and distant gaze as he fed it comfort in words and water. Alem seemed both blithely unaware of what was happening and solemnly wise, with a presence that reached beyond the stars to the first cow before any of the Aesir.

His father skinned the dead calf and draped its flesh like a morbid cloak over one of the frail orphans they’d been laboring to save. Though he suspected that Alem knew it was not of her womb, she soon let it suckle and licked at its trembling face eagerly. They each had known enough of suffering and it would be a long, half-year of winter ahead.

Kaye released a slow breath and dipped his head. He knew death well enough, which was why he didn’t approach as Cestia dashed away. She returned with their fire pail overflowing with water from the creek. Without hesitation, she flung the entire mass, like a slapping fist, across the shape on the ground.

Cestia gasped, while Kaye nodded, as the body flailed to life, sputtering and hacking up the water.

“Acch huuhhhh...Don’t drown me! Just a nortman, Daring. Let me be!” Turning on his side, the man coughed up a few more lungfuls before he faced them to ask, “What did you do that for? Who are you?”

The first words out of Cestia‘s mouth were, “You’re not dead?!” Sprawled out and fumbling, the man retrieved his inventory from behind a nearby tree trunk. He withdrew garments to use as towels as he regained his breath. “I should be happy for convincing you. But it was only an act. Have you not heard of Daring adventurers who play dead in the face of monstrous beasts?”

Neither of them had. The man introduced himself as Twenlevr, before amending that “just Twen is fine”. Once he’d dried and taken a few regular breaths, he regarded them and pronounced, “I know I may not smell the best…”

With a gruff grunt the man, who seemed not too many years older than either of them, brought his forearm up to his nose and gave a long sniff. Whatever reaction he may have meant to give, he soon choked on the breath before dashing his arm away and spitting up on the grass. He resigned, “Perhaps you have a point. I may be a bit too 'method'. Excuse me…“

They gave him a wide berth as he ambled over to the creek and splashed himself several times. Kaye felt bad for any fish downstream. When he returned, the odor was still there but muffled, as though submerged under a few layers of dirt. It was at least tolerable to stand in his presence. He had about a head advantage in height on Cestia and just a smidge on Kaye. Long, matted blonde hair in distressed, ropey lengths fell past his shoulders.

He indeed wore the standard uniform of a Daring, from the loose, tan poofing cut-offs with a long, rune-covered strip that dipped from his waist to below his knees. A standard, green tunic with patchy, leather armor covered his chest and completed the ensemble. A look at his parchment, pristine despite being soaked, cleared away any lingering doubt.

“I figured you weren’t dead”, Kay remarked. “But we’ve heard stories of things worse than death.” Indeed, it had been at the back of his mind looking at the still, foul-smelling man. Creatures not properly alive, reanimated or compelled by the will of some dark, magical puppeteer. Suray sometimes told him those stories, more so after Cestia had left, just the two of them relaxing by a fire as the nasty, distant gossip of the townsfolk passed as secretive, scandalous mumbles. Their minds and lives were made of such things, so it was easy to project onto them.

Cestia curiously regarded Kaye, as she brushed back her hair from around her cheeks. Twen grunted as he dried. “ I can understand. Shame to end a nap like that though.”

Cestia jerked her eyes back with a flair of her cerulean eyebrows, not committing to a full, annoyed roll at Twen as she announced, “We need to get back and finish our quest. You go ahead and pick up your nap...where you left it.”

Twen coughed a few stray hairs out of his mouth as he persisted, “Quests!….Ah yes, quests. I have a few of those, somewhere. They tend to rattle around in my bags like a hungry pack of needy chicks, always goading and reminding me what I should be doing. But the weather is so briefly this temperate. Why should I go forth and kill some creature or bother with one thing or another, when I can just ease back and enjoy the clouds as they hover overhead so tantalizingly, like aethereal...if that’s the right word...gems of distant realms floating by to observe the rancor and rush of we mortal nort. Come! Sit a while. Then, perhaps, a while more. Indulge in nature‘s quiet splendor, as it wafts by like the gentle vapors of an antidote to our restless hurries.”

Cestia glowered at the decreasingly wet, still smelly man, and asked pointedly, “You wouldn’t happen to know a rather large Charmie who stands on a polished tree stump and likes to talk a lot, would you?”

Recognition soon flared in his eyes as he snapped his fingers and responded, “Cast! You’ve seen him? Is he well? He gave me much to ponder when I first met him.”

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Bending forward with a sigh, her gloved hands resting on her legs, Cestia answered, “Yeah, he’s alive. And… We should be going. We’re in the middle of a quest.”

She urgently beckoned to Kaye with a sideways motion. As he settled back down, it was easy to recognize the spot where Twen had been from the dead grass. Clearing his nose with a honk, Twen inquired, “Does the quest involve a rare and vital skill?”

Cestia rotated her head with an audible grunt before answering simply, “Crafting.”

Twen made a soft and curious sound through his nose before informing her, “Important as well. Like many quests. Things to do, people to help, lives to save. But… there are also things to be done on the side. A 'side quest', if you will. Tasks as much about improving yourself as attending to others.”

Sidestepping, Cestia worked her way back over to Kaye and pressed, “It’s getting late. Our instructors are patiently waiting for us and we’d like to get inside the castle gates before nightfall.” As she said all this, Cestia looked Kaye in the eye, expecting him to follow her words.

The evening was gathering around them, with the height and depth of the evergreens sinking through encroaching shadows as the muffled sun teased the horizon with bands of red and orange. Soon, it would be evening and, despite promises that this land held no predators, neither of them wanted to wander back in the dark to more familiar areas. Even with how far they had ventured as children, and in the past few weeks to find the adventurous heart of the runic lands, Cestia always made sure to keep them tethered to some road, encampment, or other sign of civilization.

Without warning, Twen suddenly went slack, his limbs dashing upon the ground as his head flopped to one side, tongue lolling like a wounded caterpillar. They both drew their knives for protection, as Kaye considered the few healing items in his possession. Cestia rose on her toes and scanned around for some lurking, sniper monster as the cause. Once a curious, quiet moment passed, Twen sat up with a snort and explained, “It’s known as ‘play dead’. A vital tactic for all adventurers, Daring or otherwise. Imagine you’re facing down a rampaging beast. Something like a dragon or a demon, furious and strong but not terribly bright. Monsters in that state won’t stop to give you enough time to suck down a panacea or elixir. You have to be clever. There’s no dishonor in dropping to the ground, as though dead, to give yourself time to recoup, recover, and survive. Action through inaction. Something I picked up from Cast.”

This time, Cestia unleashed a full, proper eye roll. “Sounds like something he’d say. Now...”

Twen continued, “...I might be able to make it worth your while, with a little Zel. And a few trinkets to share from my bag.”

After Cestia inquired about exactly how much he was willing to offer, she noted, “I could just kill clusters of...anything in this forest and get as much in a minute.”

“Perhaps. But would you get the priceless experience of learning a vital skill? If you truly wish, I shall let you go. We will be once more strangers to one another. Time shall pass, days spilling like water from a canteen. You may forget about me, but I shall remember, even in the darkest forest night. You may think yourself complete in your travels and travails, but in the shadowy corners, in the dim recesses of the sticky past, a memory shall scratch at you without your knowledge, with only a vague impression that something is missing. Though your mind may overlook it, your spirit and heart will remain unfulfilled.”

Cestia scrunched her bright eyes, as she aimed them at the now-dry but still vaguely smelly and disheveled Twen. “What about if we pay you? Will you leave us alone?” She soon realized that her question would only serve to let him embark upon yet another protracted soliloquy, so she swiftly fanned her hands and agreed, “All right, all right… Get it over with then.”

All the while, Kaye had been watching. He thought about jumping into the conversation, but he knew not to place himself between Cestia and a goal. She really wanted to move on. He still felt at ease from their excursion to the creek, followed by a friendly ascent to the pinnacle of a nearby evergreen. If they had to camp out in this forest beside a flickering fire, just the two of them, then he didn’t find that the worst fate. One more night to reflect, rest, and prepare.

He could rest, even before Cestia’s eyes shut for the evening. Then, the following morning wouldn’t be like this one was. They would venture out together, as they had done for much of their trek. No nervous mistakes would shake his confidence. He would be better and Cestia would notice a difference. And that difference… That difference…

His muscles tensed as his mind when slack. He could feel the precipice of all his stray daydreams. Cestia was still and always that resilient little girl who stood up for him and urged him deeper into the unknown paths of the forest, while still bringing them home safe at the end of the day. But she was so much more. More than words that dribbled out of his brain could ever truly express. She and Suray were his last slivers of anything like family left. He swiftly paddled his thoughts away from those depths, lest they swallow him up.

They kept their distance from Twen as he explained, “So much of what you’re told about adventuring centers around doing, action, and activities. A new spell to learn, a move to improve, a bit of gear to enhance. Equally important is knowing when to do nothing. To be like the shoreline against the waves. To be patient. To fall and remain. When one truly embraces a wholeness of inaction, consciously passive, all things open up to you.” Once more, he demonstrated his “play dead“ way.

Despite the fact they both knew it was coming, Cestia braced herself in alarm and Kaye’s knees jerked, as though he wanted to leap away. Next, came their turns.

Cestia flopped backwards, as though she were doing a half-committed gymnastic roll. Twen immediately pointed out where she'd done it wrong and she let slip a yawn disguised as a rumble of irritation. The problem was it didn’t look like she dropped, but rather she was sitting dramatically.

Kaye thought about when he was really tired, after a long day of work. Finding little motivation there, he cautiously delved in the pungent moments of when his father tumbled from his feet and he didn’t have the strength to lift him up. It was like being shut off. One moment, working, toiling, standing. The next, nothing.