Part of me wonders why I even care so much. I don’t know Tarsh that well; we’ve only been spending time together these past few days. What’s more, he did kill my brother—which happened because he was attempting to kill me. There isn’t any reason for me to feel sadness at his passing. Perhaps I’m just disturbed because I feel like this is wrong? Perhaps it’s because I don’t think a human being should be punished with death?
Or maybe I’m just a sucker for guys that have an evil past, but repent in the end.
Bernard stayed with Frater; neither of them really had cause to be present for this. I’m pleased to find that my presence has seemed to comfort Tarsh somewhat. Kind of just like…the last time he was about to die.
I frown. Actually, I grimace. Something is stirring inside of me. I’m feeling tempted to do something; to make this stop. To make events change. To not sit by and watch. But for whatever reason, I’m afraid to act.
Sharon and her thieves arrive at the gate, standing just beyond the entrance. For a moment, both our parties stare at each other, regarding the other with cold expressions. Then one of the guards beside me announces, “Captain Sharon, here is your prisoner. Lord Beznar has given you full permission to do with him whatever you wish. However, if it is agreeable to you, we will wait for our representative to arrive, so that this exchange might be evaluated for Lord Beznar.”
Sharon frowns, “Why should a representative be necessary while all of you are here to witness the exchange? I have no interest in waiting. Give me the prisoner before he tries to pull some sort of trick on us.”
The guards look at each other.
“I won’t wait forever!” Sharon sneers.
Reluctantly, the two guards bring Tarsh forward, halfway to the bandits, just beneath the gate.
Sharon sighs, seemingly satisfied, and says, “Please inform Lord Beznar that we think highly of him for his compliance, and we are sincerely grateful.” Accompanied by two guards, she steps forward and joins Tarsh and Castrum Fortress guards underneath the gate.
A small, sly smile is on Sharon’s lips.
I glare. Dangit! I think. “I want to do something!” I have to make this stop. I don’t know why. It just…feels wrong. That, or I just don’t want it to happen. Dangit! I think again, berating myself. Do something!
PROTAGONIST SWITCH:…?
My black boots clomp calmly, rhythmically on the stone of the lower bailey. My pace is calm. Everything about my bearing displays my confidence, my determined state of mind.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM
I clench my fist. I was lucky enough to be selected by Sharon to be one of the guards to come with her in procuring Tarsh Landid. I don’t approve of this. I’m not sure why; quite frankly, I don’t approve of anything Sharon does. I’m tempted to draw my sword right now and run her through the back. I don’t think many people would be upset. But I stay my blade. I watch as our two bandits with Sharon clasp Tarsh by the shoulders.
Tarsh looks over his shoulder and addresses a girl standing with the other Castrum Fortress guards. “Faith,” says the teenaged-guy. He smiles gently, “Thanks for everything…
PROTAGONIST SWITCH:…?
From where it’s slung over my back, my broadsword rustles softly against my buckler, both of them gently rocking back and forth in beat to my walk. My head is bowed, a shadow over my face, and my brown hair falls onto my shoulders. The black leather jacket I wear, cut off at the shoulders, creaks slightly as I reach back behind my back to grasp the hilt of my new sword.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK
Tears begin to well in my eyes. Bernard and I agreed that everything would be all right, that we would find a way out of this, that there was a way. But now I watch him turn away from me, his last words to me finished, and the bandits begin to lead him away, a smug look of confidence on Sharon’s face.
Then I hear someone’s voice behind me. “Now, whose idea was it to begin before I got here?”
I turn.
It’s…Frances?!
Frances looks up, raising her head. Her hand is on her sword—a new sword. Sharon and the bandits stop, just outside the gate. The guards of Castrum Fortress part for Frances, who approaches Sharon, her thieves, and Tarsh. “Unless you were misinformed,” Frances says, “a representative from Castrum Fortress was supposed to oversee the exchange, and ensure everything was…valid.” Frances glares at Sharon.
“This is ridiculous,” Sharon states. “The exchange has already been made, with several witnesses from Castrum Fortress.” Sharon squints, glowering back at Frances, “And who are you? Do you really expect me to believe that Lord Beznar would send a child as his representative?”
Several of the guards gasp. For a moment, Frances doesn’t move. Then she says in a low voice, “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
Sharon grunts, motioning for her bandits to move Tarsh away. “And just who are you?” the captain of the Brown Bandits asks.
Frances brandishes her sword just an inch, closing her eyes, and she replies, “My name is Frances…Frances Beznar, daughter of Lord Beznar.”
Sharon grunts again, seemingly taken aback.
“There’s no better representative for my father to send,” declares Frances. Then she opens her eyes, staring challengingly at Sharon, “This is my castle…”
I’m astonished; I can’t believe this is happening. My eyes widen, and my heart begins racing. I reach back, feeling for the tip of an arrow.
“…And I don’t approve of this exchange.”
Sharon glares fiercely at Frances, and then laughs, “Hah, well it doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done. Tarsh Landid is ours, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
“Are you sure about that?” Frances questions. I see her hand tighten on the hilt of her sword.
There’s a pause. And then Sharon seems to snap. “Tarsh Landid will be dead!” she roars. “For everything he’s done to the Brown Bandits, and everything he’s done to me!” With her free hand, she draws a knife from her belt, whirling towards Tarsh.
It seems to happen reflexively. My bow is in my hands, the arrow set to the string. I draw back and fire. The entire action takes two seconds.
Sharon cries out, an arrow through her forearm. For the moment, Tarsh is safe.
Frances’s blade glints as she whips it from behind her back, and she charges the group of bandits. For a moment, I’m stunned; the last time I saw Frances, she could hardly sit up. How is she doing this?
One of the bandits moves to intercept Frances. With a swipe of her blade, Frances slices the man’s arm off, and he stumbles backwards into his comrades. “There will be no execution,” Frances declares, “at least while I’m alive.” She grabs Tarsh by the arm and spinning violently, she throws him back through the gate. The spin, to my surprise, is graceful, as if Frances were in slow-motion. I can’t believe that she has the strength and dexterity to perform such an act, considering her condition. Tarsh lands hard on his shoulder, rolling until he comes to a halt right next to me.
“You fool!” Sharon screams. “You have brought death to your entire people!” Ripping my arrow out of her forearm, the captain jabs downwards for Frances’s exposed side.
I open my mouth to shout a warning, but Frances notices the attack at the last moment. The girl pivots, spinning away from the jab, and it blocks it in a roundabout manner by placing her back to the blow. Her back, of course, is covered by her large buckler, and the arrow harmlessly embeds itself in the wood of her shield. Right upon finishing her spin, Frances seems as if she’s going to follow through with a massive slash that would cut Sharon right in two.
I’ve never seen Frances fight so intensely. But then, I haven’t ever seen Frances fight in a real battle. Nonetheless, it’s obvious that the blood of a warrior courses through her. She’s too seasoned, even in her youth, for Sharon. And she?
??s not afraid to kill.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM
I intercept the girl’s attack just barely, scarcely able to hold back the might of the blow. Nonetheless, I keep my feet and posture, grimacing and grunting as I parry. I’m not going to let this girl overpower me.
It wasn’t a sense of duty that urged me to protect my captain. Far from it. I was exceedingly tempted to let the girl kill Sharon. But now isn’t the right time. The Brown Bandits, if I’m honest with myself, would riot; they would go crazy. Perhaps not out of loyalty for Sharon, but because of the very aspect of having their leader struck down. And I’m still trying to make it appear as if I’m the “perfect thief” that Sharon and the other leaders would want to have around. “Perfect thief”? It seems impossible for such a thing to exist.
I shove the girl away. To my relief, the rest of our guards gather around us, and while the Castrum girl looks as if she might charge and take all of us on at once—and I think she could—both parties slowly begin to retreat.
“Prepare for battle!” Sharon calls after the girl as she backs away. “You won’t last a day against our thieves!”
I frown, still eyeing the girl and her retinue of Castrum Fortress guards. But my mind is already working on a way to make everything right…before it begins.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK
I sigh with relief as I watch Sharon go. I can’t believe this is happening; Tarsh is safe! Although I’m disappointed with myself for not grasping the gravity of the situation—in that Castrum Fortress is now under siege—, all I can focus on is our victory. My eyes fall onto Tarsh, and then Frances, and the group of guards with us. This victory. This is what matters to me. Even if the Brown Bandits attack and kill us all, so long as we have this victory, that’s all I care about.
Those are some pretty extreme thoughts. I’m surprised with myself. Why do I feel this way?
Standing sideways in the gateway, with the retreating group of thieves to her left, and us to her right, Frances watches our enemy go. “Well,” she says eventually, standing up straight, her sword still brandished at her side and her hair gently trailing behind her in the evening breeze of the sunset, “I guess we should get started.”
I grunt. “I can’t believe you just did all of that!” I exclaim. “Have your wounds really healed?
Frances seems to relax. Well actually, she seems to crumple. Leaning on her sword and bowing her head, she begins panting. “No,” she says in between breaths, “I wouldn’t say that.” I didn’t notice just how much she was sweating.
“Here,” Tarsh says, coming up to her and placing his arm about her. Frances leans on him, and gives her sword to one of the guards.
“Thank you,” Tarsh says to Frances as she stabilizes herself against him. “Thank you. You saved my life.”
“You’re welcome,” Frances replies. Then, to my surprise, she smiles, as if she finds something funny. I look at her questioningly, and she replies in accordance with my gaze, stating, “I wonder what my dad is going to think once he hears that the Brown Bandits are going to be attacking us.”
I perk up. “What!?” I exclaim. The other guards, along with Tarsh, seem equally astonished. “You mean your dad didn’t plan this? You didn’t discuss this with him?”
“He probably would’ve said ‘no’ if I had asked him,” explains Frances. “And besides, I didn’t have time to go and ask him if he would approve. I heard that the exchange was going to be happening from one of my physicians, so I threw on some clothes and came to see what I could do.”
Tarsh grunts, and then smiles graciously at Frances, “That was…very heroic of you.”
Frances shrugs, and then commences walking forward, still using Tarsh for support. “I had been getting bored anyway.”
The guards begin to depart, going about their business. I remain and walk along with Tarsh and Frances. After a moment of listening to Frances hobble forward, grunting with discomfort, the girl says, “So…any word from John?”
Tarsh and I grunt, glancing at each other. “No,” I say, frowning. My heart falls to my stomach. I’ve been endeavoring not to think too much about what’s happened to John. It’s been days since he went into the portal. From what I’ve heard, hardly anyone survives against Kiilda, the strange monster that must be faced before you can cross over to the Gray Lands. Could John actually still be in combat with that thing? Or maybe he already defeated it, and now he’s gotten into some sort of predicament in the Gray Lands?
I don’t know. That’s what I hate. Hoping for something good, but not knowing if what you hope for will come true. I wish there was some way that we could find out.
“He’ll be okay,” Tarsh says at length. I seem to relax, calmed by his words. I want to believe him. “If there’s anyone that can beat Kiilda, it’s John.”
I glance over at Tarsh, who stares thoughtfully at the ground as he guides Frances, and I breathe, shivering with trepidation. I hope he’s right.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA
I sprint back towards our home. I can’t believe it. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. They didn’t leave us. They wouldn’t! They wouldn’t! Tears start to fill my eyes. I feel like I’m about to scream. To panic. I’m about to go mad. Should I have expected this? Was there anything that they did or said to give indication that they would be leaving?
Was it something I did that made them leave?
I can’t help it. I’m so afraid. I’m all alone. Tears run down my face, and I shiver, once again feeling cold. Bursting through our back door, I look franticly about, hoping that for whatever reason, I missed them; hoping that they’re still here. But they aren’t…
Sniffles. Sobbing. Not from me.
I look down. Soror and Frater are huddled on the floor, holding onto each other, crying. “Where’s mom and daddy?” Frater asks.
They’re both so…small. I can see the fear in their eyes. I can hear the weakness in their voices.
And I can’t contain myself any longer. I close my eyes and fall to my knees in front of them, convulsing and permitting my tears to run freely. “What…what happened?” I think.
“John…” I hear Soror beckon, her voice utterly distraught.
I open my eyes, looking up at my two little siblings. At that moment, I’ve never felt so much love for other people. I force myself to feel brave…but in reality, I still feel weak. And small. And alone.
I clench my fists, and then fall into Soror and Frater, hugging them as tightly as I can. They cry in my arms. We cry in each other’s arms. I love them…so much.
“Don’t worry,” I tell them, embracing them with all my might.
—They’re so small—
“I’ll take care of you…”
“…I’m still here…”
…
…
…
“…I still love you.”
My face is almost completely wet when I wake up. I clench my fists, breathing intensely. I’ve been crying in my sleep…crying as if that dream were really happening. Crying as if that part of my life had happened again.
As I open my eyes, I’m alarmed to find that they feel so heavy, and I feel specks of dirt drop from my face. That’s when I realize it’s not dirt: it’s dried blood. I reach up to my face, touching lightly the skin on my brow, chin, and eyelids. Almost all of it’s gone, replaced with gritty scabs. “I really got beat up bad, didn’t I?” I think.
My face isn’t the only thing that’s been drastically marred and distorted. My arms are so stiff, a result of the two wounds Kiilda gave me. The stone-infection has spread to my joints. I can barely move my arms.
I grunt, remembering what Kiilda did to me right before our battle finished. Lifting up the bottom of my shirt, I look at the place where It impaled me in my stomach. I experience a pang of surprise; it’s turned to stone already! I guess, in
one sense, I should be glad. The infection stops the bleeding of any incision Kiilda gives me. But, although I don’t know how to describe it, I can tell that my body is ceasing to work correctly.
Damn…
Once again, the terrain for my next battle with Kiilda has changed…but not completely. I am back in the field where I first fought It. The thick grass is beneath me, and above me the white sky is heavily suffused with gray, motionless clouds. About a hundred yards ahead of me to my left, I think I can see the gaping whole in the ground with the chain dangling down into it.
I breathe deeply, looking up towards the gray, dull sky. I wish there was more light. I wish this world wasn’t so bleak. That it wasn’t so gray. That there was an ounce of beauty. That there was something to give me hope.
I breathe deeply, closing my eyes once again. I’ve been so negligent. I’ve been such a fool. There’s something I should’ve been doing here all along, at least while I wasn’t battling Kiilda. I’m almost reluctant to think about it now, since I know that I’ve failed. I know that it’s probably too late to try. Will I ever learn?
But I have to try…while I still have life in me.
Reaching out with my mind, I call weakly, “Word…”
It’s impossible for me to truly know if the Word hears my voice—hears my spirit crying out for aid. However, I just sense that I’ve been heard. There’s no response, but that’s okay. At least I’ve been heard. It’s subtle, but the notion that I’m not alone, in at least one possible way, gives me a glimmer of confidence.
The words fill my mind, an echo from the past, but resounding through my conscience like a blast of thunder, “…you must find the ‘river of water’.”
My eyes open. Dangit, I think, hating the fact that I’ve wasted so much time. Hating the fact that I didn’t search out the river immediately. It’s time, I tell myself, attempting to clench my fists, attempting to feel determined and strong. But it’s so hard. I feel like death…is inevitable.
“Soror and Frater. Faith and Bernard. Frances and Ashida. The Word. They’re all…expecting me to make it out alive. They’re all waiting for me to come back with Soror.” My stomach shudders, and at first, it’s because of the stone-infection beginning to creep a little deeper. But then, despite myself, I begin to cry once more. They need you to keep on going, I tell myself. They’re probably worried about you.
But what if that’s not true? What if they don’t really care if I die?
I hate myself for even considering such a self-pitying thought. But the words go through my mind before I can stop myself. Has anyone ever cared for me?
To my surprise, the air around me starts to stir, and a breeze ensues. His voice is faint; it is gentle, but not weak. Just…far away. And yet still I hear him. “I gave you life,” the Word answers. “I gave you a second-chance.
“Search for me, John. Find the river of water. And then you will never be alone.”
I stiffen, perking up. What is he talking about!? “Where?” I say aloud to the sky.
But there’s no response. For a moment, I’m begin to grow extremely frustrated. Why did he just leave me? Can’t I just get a clear answer as to where the “river of water” is?
And then I think I understand why the Word left. I no longer have time to speak with him.
It’s here already.
Kiilda is ready to finish me.
CHAPTER 46