Stillborn 2 - The Fire Within: Chapter 8

 

8.

Galdri Broadshield was leading his patrol of ten Darfin soldiers through the border tunnels of Othrond, when he heard sounds of battle coming from the direction of the old crypt. He was quite surprised by it as he was well aware of what was guarding the tombs. The royal seal of Othrond, hanging around every soldier's neck, protected them from wrath of the Draugar, even if they accidentally touched the tombstones.

Galdri made it just in time to see the end of the battle between the Draugar and Aniceth, who had unleashed the might of the Gargoyle to save himself and Angwar from the undead guardian. It is an understatement to say that he was stunned to see an unknown Darfin, and apparently a very dangerous and powerful Arathan together so close to the city. It was both surprising and most alarming. The king would have to be warned about a possible invasion coming against the city.

Following Galdri's command, the soldiers built a stretcher by tying one of their cloaks in between two spears. They lifted Angwar carefully from the ground and dragged him on to the stretcher. Aniceth's destiny was to be tied up in ropes, then another long rope with a noose at the end was strung around his neck.

”If you fall behind, Arathan, we will kill you and leave your body to rot out here,” Galdri explained coldly to the unknown enemy, who was having problems to breathe properly.

The commander had no sympathy for the Arathans, just like there was no Arathan who would feel sympathy for a Darfin. They were enemies, and the only reason why Aniceth was spared lied in valuable information about the enemy moves in the area, the possibility of an invasion was not to be taken lightly. After picking up the darkened staff and Aniceth's enchanted sword from the ground, the patrol was ready to leave.

The soldiers felt a little nervous once they noticed the strange nature of Aniceth's eyes. They had never seen anything like that, but a living Arathan was something these men had never seen before either, and most of them simply assumed that all Arathans had eyes like that.

Fortunate for Aniceth, the soldiers had to move a lot slower than normal while carrying the wounded Darfin, otherwise there would have been no chance for him to stay with the group. They dragged him behind by pulling the rope around his neck, which quickly rubbed the skin off. Long streams of blood ran down on his back and chest, slowly weakening him more than he already was. The broken rib was hurting badly, and every step caused excruciating pain, but somehow he managed to make it all the way to the city without falling to the ground.

Angwar was taken further into the city, but Aniceth's journey ended almost as soon as they had passed the sturdy, shining gates. A large hammer laying upon a shield was engraved on the glimmering surface; the ancient symbols of Othrond. He glanced at the high watchtowers on both sides of the massive gate and smiled. His friend was finally at home again, but what would be his own fate in this hostile town?

Aniceth's armor and clothes were torn away from him, but no one seemed to care about his injuries. He was sure that he would die before long, but still he felt pride and joy for helping his friend through Everdeep. Aniceth begged for the guard to stop for a second before he left the cell, telling him to look for a bag of bluedust fungus from his clothes.

”Angwar will need it unless there is a cure for it in here,” he whispered weakly. The guard nodded at him as he threw a simple, grey prisoner's robe on the floor.

”We take care of our own, Arathan,” he replied harshly, closing the iron door behind him.

His only hope was that Angwar recovers enough to speak for him, otherwise it seemed like his days were numbered. Without knowing how much time he had before the black veil of death would cover his eyes, Aniceth dragged himself to the primitive bed that had no blankets or pillows on it, just a few dirty straws piled on a cold stone bunk. There he lied as still as possible to prevent himself from suffering any further internal damage the broken rib could cause.

 

* * *

 

”Should I try to find out what they were doing in the crypt while you are taking care of the wounded Darfin?” the guard asked from Galdri after they had thrown Aniceth into the cell, and his soldiers had gone to take Angwar to the skilled healers of Othrond.

Galdri shook his head. ”No, I saw this Arathan defeating a Draugar in the tomb. He is extremely dangerous. Keep him behind locked doors until we can hear the Darfin's story. I believe that is the safest way for everybody.

The guard nodded and saluted the commander as he prepared to leave.

Angwar was taken to the temple of Tharos, the Immortal of earth and balance, where the most skilled healers took the wounded Darfin and treated him, but there was very little they could do to the damage that was done to his mind. The Draugar's malicious spell, even though it was interrupted by Aniceth, had thrown his soul into infinite darkness. The great pain and the pure horror his mind had encountered were too much for one man to bear, thus he had fallen into a deep sleep, protecting the remains of his sanity.

Daarli Skyforge was one of the highest healers of the temple, and she received the news about bluedust fungus with a heavy heart. The Darfins did have some experience of getting rid of the addiction, but the chances for a successful weaning were slim. Using a mixture of whiteroot and goldberries, there was a chance that the body survived long enough to shake off the effects of the fungus. Unfortunately, in most cases the result of this treatment was death, even though an easy and painless one, but still death, nonetheless. But until Angwar would wake up, if he was ever going to, Daarli could not do anything else but take small dozes of dust from the bag that Galdri had brought to her and carefully rub it on Angwar's gums, preventing any of the symptoms to appear before the patient would be awake and fully prepared for the battle.

Soon after Angwar was brought to the temple, Daarli had asked one of her assistants to send a word to the high cleric. She wanted to ask her advice and guidance in this matter she was not familiar with. The cleric would also know more about the Draugar, and how such spells affected to the body and soul.

The high cleric was an elder woman, probably way past her first hundred, dressed in a long, light-blue gown with silvery inlays. There was a strange aura of serenity surrounding her, which was a sign that she was a true vicar touched by the deeper wisdom of Tharos. She approached the bed where the Darfin was lying; Daarli stepped back to stay out of her way. And as the cleric laid her gentle eyes upon the sleeping Darfin, she gasped sharply.

”What is it, your holiness?” Daarli asked worriedly, but the old cleric seemed to ignore her completely. She stared at the wounded Darfin quietly, then she reached out with her hand and touched him lightly.

”Angwar,” she whispered, and her soft voice shivered.

Daarli was shocked. ”Do you know this man?” she asked, awestruck.

”By the beard of Tharos, Daarli. I most certainly do. This is the son of Galwar Frostfire.” And as she spoke, large tears were slowly rolling down on her cheeks.

”Galwar, your passed husband, but that means—” Daarli's voice diminished into a bare whisper.

”Yes, this is Angwar Frostfire, my son,” she confirmed. ”Now, could you be so kind and ask commander Galdri Broadshield to come see me? I need to ask him some questions regarding this Arathan who was found in the crypt with Angwar. I do not know how my son survived in the hands of the Gibberlings, and what part that strange Arathan has to play in all this, but I will be thanking Tharos in my prayers every night for bringing my son back home!”

The cleric sighed deeply and turned her misty eyes at Daarli. ”I must prepare the chapel for the ritual that will hopefully help his mind to recover from the Draugar's attack.”

 

* * *

 

Aladra Frostfire, the High Cleric of Othrond, was standing in the small chapel attached to the temple. A statue of Tharos forging the world was standing above the ascetic altar, the Darfins were not the kind of people who favored a lot of decorations. Their lives were guided by more practical desires than those of vanity. This was Aladra's shrine where she spent time praying, also serving as a peaceful asylum for considering matters that required attention. After all, the position of the high cleric was just as much political as it was spiritual. The healer, who brought her the word from Daarli, was able to tell him some things about the Arathan, but not nearly enough. She wished Galdri would hurry, for she wanted to get a full description of the events that took place in the crypt. Aladra wanted to be sure there was nothing crucial left out before she would begin to prepare for the ceremony that might help her son to recover from his terrible illness. She would have to request help from the Immortals, but the voice of Tharos had gotten weaker ever since the Gargoyles had brought their cursed darkness upon the world.

”You wished to see me?” Commander Galdri Broadshield asked as soon as he stepped into the chapel. He was not willing to waste more time on this matter, but the call of the high cleric was something he could not ignore.

”Tell me everything you saw at the crypt of the kings, and make sure to leave out nothing, for the life of my son depends on it.”

Galdri's face turned ashen as the identity of the Darfin was revealed. He would have never guessed the position of the wounded man they had carried into the city. In fact, Galdri had been doubtful at first if he was one of the denizen of Othrond at all. Everdeep was vast, measureless, reaching farther than anyone dared to imagine. The wounded Darfin could have been from Hrundir, or even from Khaldur. It was a known fact that the stone labyrinth connected many of the Darfin keeps. He was glad though, for it was a truly rare for these enslaved Darfins to find their way back from the darkness.

Galdri explained everything from the moment he had heard the unusual noise in the tunnels to when they arrived through the great gates. Aladra listened carefully, nodding approvingly from time to time.

”I thank you for this information, Commander. You may go now,” she said after Galdri had finished his recitation.

Galdri saluted the high cleric before walking out of the chapel, leaving the woman to consider everything that had been revealed to her. She was puzzled because based on the commander's story, the Arathan had seemed to be protecting Angwar from the wrath of the Draugar, and that was something completely unheard of.