CHAPTER 44
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA
I walk into my room and slam the door, falling into my bed with a huff of anger. I lay there, my eyes narrowed with anger, seething with emotions that I have repressed for such a long time. For fifteen minutes, I remain on my bed.
Then I hear Soror crying. I roll my eyes; what has she done now? I step outside my room, only to find that she has tried to begin skinning one of the rabbits I caught, and she is horribly failing—
Wastefully failing.
I briskly walk towards her. “What are you doing?” I say sternly.
Then I know why she is crying. She has cut her hand with the knife she is using, and she is crying loudly.
Too loudly.
“Shut up!” I shout at her. “Look what you’ve done to the meat. Don’t you care at all that I worked hard to catch those?”
I snatch the rabbits from her. She cries more, holding up her hurt hand, blood running off her fingers.
I clench my teeth; even after I’ve berated her, she can’t even mumble an apology? I take the knife too and crouch down in front of her. “Maybe I should give you another cut!” I hiss.
She shrieks, shying away from the knife. I stand and point it at her again. “You are nothing but a worthless, lazy dog! You do nothing but eat our food, the food I get, and you just get in the way! You act like you’re not even human; you act like you’re dead. And I wish you were dead!”
And with that, I walk into my bedroom and shut the door, locking my siblings out of my life. I’m done with them…forever.
I wake up with a scowl of regret on my face. I feel rotten inside whenever I have that dream…whenever I remember that moment. The moment I chose to lock my siblings out of my life. The moment I started becoming just as bad as the Evil…and inadvertently led them to my home. I will never forget that.
There’s no pain this time. I have a stab wound marked upon my shoulder, and an arm wound from before that. But there’s no pain, oddly. My body aches, but perhaps that’s because I’ve been lying on a rock ledge. A rock ledge where…?
I groggily twist and push off the stone beneath me, rising into a sitting position. I shake my head, clenching my face with my hands, trying to wake myself up effectively. I don’t know why I feel so indifferent all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because my dreams have distracted me from the problem at hand. Maybe it’s because I genuinely still feel tired. For a moment, I consider that it’s perhaps I haven’t eaten in…however long I’ve been in Kiilda. And yet, I realize with surprise that I don’t feel hungry at all. I’m thirsty, but not in the way you would think; I desire something to drink, but not because I feel dehydrated, not because my mouth feels dry. I can’t accurately describe it.
Before rising to my feet, I glance to my right, where I notice my sword lying on the ground beside me. I frown, regarding the broken tip of my blade. I find myself replaying that whole scene in my mind: me stabbing Kiilda right through the eye, and then the demon responding by breaking the tip of my sword. Running the monster through the eye seemingly had no effect on it at all. I shiver, thinking just as I have many times before, How am I going to do this?
Grasping my sword, I stand up, my body groaning in response. That’s when I flinch cautiously backwards, alarmed. I’ve been lying right next to the edge of a deep precipice, atop a mountain. From what I can tell, it’s the same mountain that sat within the forest where I fought Kiilda last. I breathe quickly, gradually overcoming the initial pang of shock and fear. Is this where I’m going to have to fight Kiilda next?
Last time, while within the forest, it took Kiilda a long time to appear. I don’t know if It always knew where I was, or if it was just waiting to attack. Either way, I use my spare time to think of tactics to use against the beast, and also reasons for why things are happening the way they are. To a certain extent, I’m tempted to believe that there are certain rules that apply while within Kiilda, or just restrictions Kiilda has placed on Itself, for whatever reason.
I’ve decided that Kiilda is permitted to land a blow on me only once, and then a new fighting terrain is chosen. Maybe that isn’t completely correct, but as far as I can ascertain, that’s the way things work. I don’t know why, of course. All I can do is judge by experience.
I turn about to inspect ledge upon which I stand, glad to look away from the drop of at least two thousand feet. There is nothing intense about the motion; in fact, I pivoted rather slowly and smoothly.
I hear something crack in my arm, emanating from the same area Kiilda cut me. I freeze, and at length, I release a deep sigh of trepidation. Slowly, I lower my gaze to the wound.
The gash has completely turned to stone. I flinch, holding my arm out in front of me. I don’t feel any pain; I don’t feel that different at all, actually. Perhaps my arm feels slightly heavier. But who cares about how it feels? My arm is turning to stone!
Only the wound, though, I note. The stone hasn’t spread beyond the gash. I don’t know if it will…I fear that it might. “Damn…” I say under my breath.
Grunting with alarm, I think, What about my shoulder? I peel back the cloth of my shirt, inspecting that wound too. To my relief, the incision looks normal. I find it grimly amusing that I’m satisfied with that knowledge.
It takes one whole fight after receiving a wound for the skin to turn to stone, I think. It makes sense. Yet, once again, I’m only making these assumptions based on experience.
Setting my sword down for the moment, I grasp my shirt at the shoulders, and one by one, tear the sleeves off. I want to be able to keep an eye on both wounds. And after all, it’s warm in Kiilda. Once I’m finished removing the sleeves, I kneel down, tightening the straps on my boots.
I don’t want to die. I really don’t want to. Yet I have this unsettling feeling within me; a suppressed doubt that is slowly rising in my heart. There’s no way I’m going to survive this. I can’t cut Kiilda. I can’t stab him. And, like Gus warned me, my flesh is turning to stone.
In a way, I’m proud of myself for how calm I am. Maybe this is another part of what it means to be a Knight. Peaceful, even in defeat. Accepting Death when it comes. But also not going down without a fight. I have to keep fighting, after all. I have to. That’s all I can do in this world.
What am I fighting for, again? My life? Wait…no. For Soror…that’s right.
I sigh. Why do I forget?
Finished with tying my boots, I take up my sword once again, crossing the ledge until I reach the main trunk of the mountain, and I seat myself there. And, just as before, I wait.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK
“Just let me do it,” Tarsh says. “I’m not afraid.”
Lord Beznar looks down at him quizzically. And yet, he also regards him with an expression of respect; he is listening to Tarsh’s proposal.
“If this is what will help the people of Castrum Fortress, then just let me go!”
The old man hesitates, still frowning in thought. It has been a day since the delegate returned with knowledge of what exactly the Brown Bandits want. And Tarsh was right; they want him. This is a quest for vengeance.
And personally, I can’t stand it.
Tarsh sacrificing himself shouldn’t even be an option. I don’t know why I’m so afraid to speak up though. It’s just me, Tarsh, and Lord Beznar. Why don’t I say anything?!
“I cannot stop you,” Lord Beznar says slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, “if you wish to hand yourself over. You are not a citizen of my castle. Thus, you are free to do as you wish.”
I open my mouth, but all I can manage to voice is, “But—”
“Let’s do it, then,” Tarsh cuts me off. He looks over at me, and in his cool, almost snobby way, says, “Thanks for trying to look out for me, but this is really what I think needs to be done.”
I start to reply, but then I clamp my mouth shut, looking away sullen
ly. Fine.
“Can you arrange for the exchange to happen with Castrum’s supervision?” asks Tarsh. “I want to be sure that I’m the only thing they leave with…as opposed to sacking the whole castle.”
“A good idea,” nods the old man. “It will be done, then.”
Tarsh and Lord Beznar hold each other’s gaze. Tarsh’s firm, Lord Beznar’s grim. “You are a brave Knight, Tarsh Landid,” declares Lord Beznar.
Tarsh grunts, bowing his head, and I see him clench his teeth. “Yeah,” I prod, averting my eyes from Tarsh, “real brave.” I feel Tarsh cast an aggravated glance at me, but I don’t turn to meet it.
“When do you want the exchange to occur, Son?” Lord Beznar says, his voice suddenly fatherly.
“Tomorrow,” Tarsh says immediately.
Lord Beznar grunts, and for a moment, I think he’s going to encourage Tarsh to wait longer; to enjoy a few more moments of life. But then the old man concedes, “Very well, then.”
And at this point, I can’t take it any longer. Tears begin to slip out of my eyes, and I whirl away, darting through the hall out the door.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: BERNARD TANNER
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to roam Castrum Fortress. Thankfully, a kind physician from the infirmary volunteered to look after Frater for me. I decided to seek out Faith, since we haven’t been able to spend very much time together, ever since John left. Our friendship means a lot to me…I’ve sort of missed Faith these past few days.
And so, after inquiring about her whereabouts, I find myself walking through the corridor that leads to Lord Beznar’s throne room. From what I’ve heard, and discovered from Faith herself, she seems to be spending a lot of time with Tarsh. This obviously surprises me; and to be honest, I feel rather jealous. She’s been trying to keep him safe; that much I know. I was smart enough to know, even before our ambassadors returned yesterday, that the Brown Bandits were here for Tarsh. I don’t know why Faith is so intent on attempting to ensure that Tarsh isn’t given up to the Brown Bandits. But, well, that’s Faith.
About thirty feet from the throne room, I stop, wondering if I’m allowed to just walk in. There are two guards stationed on either side of the door, and I wonder if I need to be escorted. Maybe it won’t matter—
The doors to the throne room burst open, and I’m surprised to see Faith running quickly in my direction. Her head is bowed, and her hair falls about her face. Tears stream from her eyes.
She doesn’t see me until she’s a few feet away, whereupon she stops. She regards me for a moment, and then hugs me.
I grunt, blushing, gently hugging her back. For a moment, she just cries in my arms, and although I’m still confused as to why she’s upset, I also feel somewhat honored…blessed. To be holding her. To be comforting her…as if worthy of her trust.
After a moment, she speaks, “Oh, Bernard…why are things like this in the Golden Lands? Why can’t everything be…why can’t it just be…happy?”
I cannot honestly say that I know what she’s talking about. But I think I have some idea. “I don’t know, Faith,” I say softly, still embracing her.
“Why is everyone so focused on killing each other?” she continues. “Why is there so much dying? Why does everything have to be so…complicated?”
I grunt again. Images flash through my mind; images of the Evil. Images of Faith bleeding out. Images of me shooting John with a poison-arrow. Images of Karr dying. Images of Soror being captured by Nirak. Images of Frances and Ashida after the battle. And I immediately share in what she feels. We both sound like little children, asking these questions. But at least we care to ask them, I think. “Why?” I whisper, wondering too.
Faith’s tears drop onto my shoulder. I clench her a little tighter, resolve and vigor rising within me. “I don’t know why there’s so much death, Faith,” I say. “I don’t know why everything has to be so complicated. I don’t know the reason. I don’t know if there even is a reason. But there has to be a way out of it. There has to be a way to get by, to survive, to make everything right again. Maybe it’s not for us to find a way. But…there has to be something, or someone, that will help us through this.” I withdraw, looking at her. She sobs, wiping her tears, and I add, “Okay?”
She nods, breathing deeply. “I’m sorry…” she says.
“Don’t be,” I say. “We’ll find a way out of this. I promise.”
For a moment, we both stand there in silence. Relief courses through me as I sense Faith beginning to relax. After about a minute, she speaks again, inquiring, “Do you think John is going to come back?”
I pause. “I don’t know” is what I want to say…because that’s how I feel. But that’s not what she needs right now. I smile gently and answer with as much confidence as I can muster, “Of course he will.”
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA
I sit on the ledge with my back against the mountain, my right leg extended, the other bent, and my left arm is draped across my left knee. I sigh, fighting off the cold. It’s noticeably colder up here, atop the mountain. I’m glad that I’ve grown more muscular; maybe it’s just me, but I feel like it helps me to stay warm.