When Aya woke up, she was being dragged, rather unceremoniously, up the bank of some unfamiliar river. She jolted as she saw the grey fog that wrapped around them, thinking that she was in the claws of one of the terrible monsters. As she made it clear that she was both conscious and not pleased with the movement however, it was halted.
Lillian was doing the dragging in question, and knelt with a profusion of apologies. Aya took the offered hand, and was pulled to her feet. She realised that she was fully clothed, which seemed wrong but she wasn’t entirely sure why. Her face screwed up as she attempted to recall exactly what happened.
The Green Path, the waters, the island in the dark lake, the thing that called itself the ‘River’. It drifted into clarity as she became slightly less groggy. However, it was still an open question of what happened next and where exactly they were.
“Where…” she said, looking around at the outlines of buildings in the fog, “what?”
“Are you hurt, my lady?” said Lillian, her eyes wide with concern.
“No, no, I…” Aya moved her body conscientiously, “don’t think so. I feel fine.”
Lillian looked like she was about to fall to her knees in relief at the statement.
“Oh, thank the Lost,” she said.
Aya noticed the pale sheen of sweat on her forehead despite the chill of the air around them, and the tightness in her features.
“Are… are you hurt?” she said.
The woman’s face flitted between emotions, before smiling.
“Nothing major,” she promised.
Aya had a strong suspicion that she was lying, only further exacerbated by the fact that Lillian’s left arm hung limp. She was, however, reluctant to confront her about it, so she turned around to look for others instead.
“Do you know where… anyone else is?” Aya said, “I can barely see in the fog.”
“There were other soldiers in the river. Alive, I think,” she said, “I swear, when I find that mage, I am going to-”
“Lillian!” came a voice from the fog - Niche emerging not long after.
“What happened where is- what- is-” Niche tried to say, after setting eyes on Aya.
The same relief that had nearly bent Lillian did this time brought him to kneel. Taking her hands, and pressing his head to the back of them, Aya could’ve sworn he was crying.
“Oh, thank the Lost, I thought we’d- I thought you’d-”
“Niche. Frare, Sorore, where are they?”
He shot up to his feet - if he had been crying, the tears were lost in the darkness.
“I will find them,” he said.
“Check the river bank,” she said, turning to Aya as he sped away “come my lady, we’d best try to figure out where we are.”
The ground underneath gave way to hard stones as they emerged onto a large, flat area. Some ways off, there were the shapes of buildings, bigger than any she’d seen. Lillian, breathing heavily, grunted in anger at the obscuring fog. A faint orange glow, perhaps from a torch, warmed the area some ways away.
“We’re in… the village? I remember that bridge by the river. Albion,” she said, confusion in her voice, “how’d we…?”
She emitted something caught between a muffled shriek and a groan as something creaked in her shoulder.
“Stop,” Aya said, “sit down. You’re hurt.”
“This much… is nothing,” Lillian barely managed to say, face so pale that it could even be seen through the bare light.
“No it’s not,” she said, “Your arm. Sit down and take off your armour. Something’s clearly wrong.”
Lillian seemed almost tempted, but ultimately shook her head. Just as Aya was about to deliver several sharp points about why should do exactly what she wanted, another voice came from the mists.
“Is that you? Lillian!” Naia said, as he came out of the mist.
“Commander?” she said, as she straightened with a wince of pain.
“Where are the children?” he said, glancing around.
“Lady Aya’s with me,” she said, “Niche is going to find the twins.”
“Oh, good.”
The commander seemed to also be injured, trying to shift his weight off his side. He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and spoke again.
“We’re in Albion,” he said, “I’m sure of it. Seems like I was right about the mage after all.”
“‘Right’?!” exclaimed Lillian in disbelief, “we have multiple injuries, we could’ve gotten killed back there on that Lost forsaken place! You deem that a success?”
“We’ve arrived at our intended destination, faster than the cliff-route. All of our men are here, most… no worse off than they were before. We still have our supplies, as far as I can tell. It might’ve had more bumps than we would’ve hoped, but yes, I would consider it a success.”
Lillian raised an arm to point, forgetting that it was injured. To her credit, she managed to suppress a scream, but it was enough to alert Naia.
“You’re injured,” he said, “forgive me for not noticing. In any case, we’ll soon get that looked at. We’ll have warm lodging and safe beds within the next few hours. The soldiers are meeting over by the light, cast by Lord Efrain.”
There was something frightening about Lillian’s expression, that went just beyond anger or pain. Naia’s eyes narrowed in response, straightening up and squaring his shoulders.
“No. His ‘shortcut’ for better or worse, worked. No plan is perfect. You will not-“
“My patience is running low, commander,” she said, voice steely calm, “I will not tolerate a mage, who has put us into danger not once, but twice. The only reason I haven’t already struck his head from his shoulders, is because I understand your gratitude for his aid in saving your men.”
Lilian herself drew up, and in that moment seemed far bigger to Aya than her physical form would suggest. Her body, as injured and exhausted as it may’ve been, now held an indomitable force.
“I am not your soldier or your servant. You do not hold rank over me. Your command is by courtesy, at the leisure of the Church. Do not presume to order me to do anything again.”
Naia’s eyes narrowed, and for one moment, Aya thought they might genuinely come to blows. Then the man relaxed, his hands dropping by his side.
“I do not wish to fight you, not over a mage or rank, Lillian. I would suggest however, not to invite any further risk by provoking him, especially while many of us are vulnerable.”
He punctuated this with a pointed look at her shoulder, and received a scowl in return.
“Let’s dispense with him, reward him for service, and send him on his way. We’ll continue without him. You only have to put up with him as long as that would take. Is that acceptable?”
Lillian seemed to relax at the reassurances.
“It is. But if I find any harm to the sacred children, I will kill him with my bare hands.”
Naia nodded.
“Now,” he sighed, “I have to go shepherd my captains. You don’t need any more assistance?”
“The offer is appreciated, but unnecessary.”
Naia said nothing more as he vanished off in the direction of the river.
“What was that?” Aya said, “aren’t you supposed to be friends?”
Lillian managed to marshal a neutral expression at the question.
“No. We’re not. We’re colleagues. Fellow soldiers in the armies of Angorrah. Not friends.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You will, once we-“ another audible creak, and a corresponding groan from Lillian as she went to her knees, “once we get back to the city.”
“You’re really hurt, aren’t you?” came another voice, from directly behind Aya, causing her to jump.
“You really are quiet for your size, Lord Frare,” Lillian said with a pained chuckle, “yes, I’m hurt. But it’s nothing that won’t heal.”
“Lillian,” said Sorore, nearly in tears, emerging beside her brother.
“I’ll be fine, my lady, I just need to…”
She rose to her feet, teeth gritted, and turned towards Niche.
“Niche, I need a word, please.”
Niche did not offer an objection as he came to her side, the two speaking in hushed tones. Frare and Sorore turned to Aya, the latter pensive, and the former nonchalant.
“So, what happened down there?” asked Frare, “the last thing I remember was falling off a cliff, or something similar. I dunno. It was fun.”
“Of course you would say that,” his sister sniffed, “it was horrible down there.”
“How bad could it really be? We all came out alive, no? I think.”
The twins began to argue about what exactly constituted the essence of a ‘bad’ experience, Aya looking on unimpressed. As her attention slowly began to drift back to the paladins holding their clandestine meeting near them. Before she could attempt to latch onto whatever words they were saying, she heard another sound.
Water, dripping.
She looked around, but couldn’t find anything large or close enough to line up with the sound she was experiencing. But there it was, definite, loud, and deep, the sound of water, dripping into some pool with a loud plop.
Her heart began to accelerate in her chest as the sound persisted. She looked around for some indication, any source where this could’ve come from, and yet… nothing. She didn’t want to ask, but if these two were truly ‘like her’, then they might be able to provide a solution, or at least, an explanation, to this odd sound.
“Do you… Do you hear that?” she said.
“Hear what?” the twins responded in unison.
“The sound… the thing… the water dripping. It’s loud.”
The two looked around confused.
“There’s nothing dripping. What do you mean?”
Just that little acknowledgement was enough to send shivers of panic up her spine. Oh no, oh no, oh no no no no, she thought as her heart leapt against her ribs. She was really going mad - she thought that she’d shaken it, but alas, the insanity clung to her like a foul smell and she would-
Her thoughts promptly slid off that track as she looked past, into the mist. There was a shadow, stretching above the buildings - something large and long, hundreds of limbs stretching down like tree branches. Long tendrils wandered up and away from its body. Along it, pale rings of a luminous blue swivelled and rolled, and focused on her.
Eyes, deep and still as a mountain lake, lined its body. Uncountably, fear was washed away in a tide of peace as the thing turned away into the fog - a long tail drifting behind it faded into the gloom.
Aya was left, gazing up in wonder at the vision. Any shock she felt was quickly compounded by the fact that the two twins were staring in wrap attention. Before she even had time to say anything, she was swarmed by the pair, their questioning nothing short of ferocious.
They asked her about what she had seen, heard, felt, smelled. Whether she’d been in the same place, or somewhere else? Had she seen men, or monsters, or both? Had she been to the grey beach?
Aya struggled to answer one of the questions, let alone all of them, bundled together and hurled at her like an avalanche. After a few moments, Frare seemed to realise that they were pressing her. This naturally resulted in a withdrawal, at first verbally, then physically as he hauled his sister away.
A few quick whispered words, and the two came before her in contrition. Finally, she was allowed to ask a question of her own.
“You mean… you’re like me?”
The question seemed to dumbfound the two, to the point where Frare laughed.
“Of course we are!” he said, “Why else would you be here, with us?”
Sorore nodded in turn.
“Then, how do you stop them?”
“Stop what?” the two asked in unison.
“The things, the… sights, the sounds.”
The look that the twins gave each other was difficult to read. It seemed to be an odd mixture of understanding, confusion, and pain. Sorore approached slowly, and took her hands. Aya felt just how warm hers seemed to be, and how surprisingly firm the grip was.
“We were the same,” she said, “at first. Scared, alone. We didn’t know what was happening, or who to turn to. Our mother-”
Her eyes grew misty at the words, some far off memory rearing in her mind.
“Our mother used to hold us close when the nightmares wouldn’t stop. I think… I think she was frightened too?”
“So, how did- how did you learn how to make it stop? Please,” she added at the end, and it sounded to her own mind quite pathetic.
“Oh Aya,” Sorore said, “it doesn’t stop. It just gets… easier.”
The girl wasn’t trying to be cruel, Aya knew that, but hearing that set off a wave of despair within her. It was true then, that she’d never be normal again. Would she continue to be consumed by the haunting visions, would she hurt someone again? The anxiety churned within her, the world spun.
And then, suddenly, a pair of voices, one wry and nasal, the other old and female, seemed to scoff at the notion.
“That’s… not true,” Aya said, with about as much confidence as a bird caught in a bear’s gaze.
“What?” said Sorore, her brow furrowing.
“I was with Efrain. The masked man, the mage. He gave me… something. Something that stopped the pain, the visions.”
Sorore shook her head in disbelief.
“He did!” Aya pressed on, “back before we entered the forest, he-”
“My lord and ladies,” said Niche, who’d appeared out of the morning fog, “best come along now. We must regroup with the others.”
The trio was escorted by Niche and Lillian, the latter grimacing with every step. They found the gaggle of soldiers, whispering in hushed tones under an orange glow with no apparent source. Several of them looked inquisitively upwards, and Aya thought she could see the traces of fear, or perhaps a healthy respect for it.
At the edge, where the shadows of the pre-dawn grew thick, Efrain and the commander seemed to be in deep discussion. The other men turned expectantly, awaiting the orders that would no doubt come. Naia emerged into the light, took a moment to gather his thoughts, and began.
“Well, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’ve had smoother journeys.”
The wry laughter was sparse, probably more than he would’ve hoped.
“But, at last, some rest is at hand. We are in Albion, more or less intact.”
Now that drew some murmuring from the crowd, but they were quickly silenced by the more attentive members.
“I know you have questions, and those, in due time, will be answered. But what we need now is food and rest. We have been well received in this village before. I hope we will be again. Mind your actions. Now, unto a plan.”
There seemed to be a settling in the crowd at the words.
“Once more, food and rest. To treat our wounded and regain our strength. I do not think \we will take more than a handful of days, less we wear out our welcome. Then, with all haste back to the split city, and home. Your captains and I shall divine a more exact route over the coming days.
Nodding and muffled affirmation. The crowd seemed satisfied for the moment.
“Now, I ask you to brave the discomfort of the morning unprotected for just a few more hours. I must find the priest, and confer with him. I would encourage you to take stock of what you have, or may’ve lost, if anything. Lady Damafelce, with me, if you please.”
Naia and the tall Hebeenian strode out into the mists, heading toward some unknown goal.
Aya shuddered slightly. Despite the dryness of her clothes, the damp was beginning to seep in, and whatever had conjured the warm light had not bothered to cast any heat. She started to move around, much to the protests of Niche. When she retorted that she would soon freeze if she stood still, he relented, so long as she stayed within the light’s range.
Aya spent her moments combing over the soldiers in various states of disarray. Some were certainly more injured than others - a litany of deep gashes and large bruises. All of them looked exhausted and more than a little displeased. It was in a latter group where she found a tall bald woman, helping one of the soldiers.
At least, Aya thought it was helping. From her vantage it was actually fairly difficult to tell. She was slowly, carefully, extracting long slivers of wood from his shoulders. Two other men served to hold the patient still, who was currently trying not to cry out.
The bloody wood was withdrawn from his flesh, to which he sighed with relief, before the woman spoke.
“Sorry about this next part. Bite down on this.”
The leather strip was taken with a confused expression, but he did as he was bid. The woman raised a pouch, and rubbed something in. At once, the man’s eyes bulged as he let out a muffled scream.
“What did you do to him?” asked one of the restrainers.
“Disinfectant. It works like a charm, but stings like a wasp,” the woman said, with an off putting cheer. She pursed her lips as she stared at the wounds.
“It still needs to be stitched and bound,” she said, “but I need somewhere drier, and brighter.”
The patient was on the ground, sweating and trembling, but the worst of the suffering seemed to have passed. At that moment, the woman made eye contact with Aya and smiled warmly. Aya was shocked to find she was starved for such an uncomplicated gesture of kindness.
Before any further contact could be made, she was pulled away by the paladins through the misty village. They came to a longhouse, significantly larger than the one in Visaya, and yet freely given for their lodgings. The knights immediately set to hanging up gear, and kidking fires in the pits.
As red and orange light started to wash the room, men began to cook whatever meagre supper they could, Aya huddled gratefully by the twins. To her surprise, she found herself famished and Frare was also starting to make inquiries of that nature.Niche found some reserves of cheese, bread, and various dried fruits. Last of all, a small chest of salt, a treasure this far from the sea, to the shock of Aya.
“A gift from my sisters,” he said smiling, “To keep evil things away.”
“The irony is not lost on him,” Lillian said, sitting down on one of the benches.
Even in the warm light of the house, her face was pale and clammy. Aya could see the difficulty of unsheathing the knife at her belt and handling it. Seized by a sudden desire, she reached out and grabbed at the knife which earned her a questioning look.
“Let me,” she said, Lillian beginning to protest.
“I know how to use it,” she insisted, “and you need to get that arm looked at.”
Reluctantly, Aya was lent the dagger, with a promise that she’d take good care of the fine-forged steel. She of course had her own, but there was a sense of wrongness in revealing that family heirloom to strangers. Retrieving the food from Niche, she did what she could, resulting in a somewhat serviceable meal.
They were passed around on slates of wood to the others, who took the food gratefully. Still, she could see the pain in the lines of Lillian’s face and despite her misgivings, felt pity. She thought of the mage, the lord Efrain - perhaps he would have some knowledge that would help.
But Lillian would never accept his help, that was sure, and besides, she had forbidden them from talking under implied penalty of death. So that was less than ideal, but still, in the darkness of the hall, with some plausible excuse, perhaps…
Once she had finished sup, Aya made the necessary excuses and with a promise to not stray outside, she got up to stretch her legs. It didn’t take her long to steal away to the back of the house, where the figure of Efrain sat in a darker alcove.
“I need your help,” she said, trying to project a sense of utmost urgency.
“Oh?” said Efrain, “I believed you were forbidden from speaking to me. What is your need?”
“I need to heal Lillian.”
From the air around her came an old woman’s laughter. The mage remained in sullen silence.
When Aya woke up, she was being dragged, rather unceremoniously, up the bank of some unfamiliar river. She jolted as she saw the grey fog that wrapped around them, thinking that she was in the claws of one of the terrible monsters. As she made it clear that she was both conscious and not pleased with the movement however, it was halted.
Lillian was doing the dragging in question, and knelt with a profusion of apologies. Aya took the offered hand, and was pulled to her feet. She realised that she was fully clothed, which seemed wrong but she wasn’t entirely sure why. Her face screwed up as she attempted to recall exactly what happened.
The Green Path, the waters, the island in the dark lake, the thing that called itself the ‘River’. It drifted into clarity as she became slightly less groggy. However, it was still an open question of what happened next and where exactly they were.
“Where…” she said, looking around at the outlines of buildings in the fog, “what?”
“Are you hurt, my lady?” said Lillian, her eyes wide with concern.
“No, no, I…” Aya moved her body conscientiously, “don’t think so. I feel fine.”
Lillian looked like she was about to fall to her knees in relief at the statement.
“Oh, thank the Lost,” she said.
Aya noticed the pale sheen of sweat on her forehead despite the chill of the air around them, and the tightness in her features.
“Are… are you hurt?” she said.
The woman’s face flitted between emotions, before smiling.
“Nothing major,” she promised.
Aya had a strong suspicion that she was lying, only further exacerbated by the fact that Lillian’s left arm hung limp. She was, however, reluctant to confront her about it, so she turned around to look for others instead.
“Do you know where… anyone else is?” Aya said, “I can barely see in the fog.”
“There were other soldiers in the river. Alive, I think,” she said, “I swear, when I find that mage, I am going to-”
“Lillian!” came a voice from the fog - Niche emerging not long after.
“What happened where is- what- is-” Niche tried to say, after setting eyes on Aya.
The same relief that had nearly bent Lillian did this time brought him to kneel. Taking her hands, and pressing his head to the back of them, Aya could’ve sworn he was crying.
“Oh, thank the Lost, I thought we’d- I thought you’d-”
“Niche. Frare, Sorore, where are they?”
He shot up to his feet - if he had been crying, the tears were lost in the darkness.
“I will find them,” he said.
“Check the river bank,” she said, turning to Aya as he sped away “come my lady, we’d best try to figure out where we are.”
The ground underneath gave way to hard stones as they emerged onto a large, flat area. Some ways off, there were the shapes of buildings, bigger than any she’d seen. Lillian, breathing heavily, grunted in anger at the obscuring fog. A faint orange glow, perhaps from a torch, warmed the area some ways away.
“We’re in… the village? I remember that bridge by the river. Albion,” she said, confusion in her voice, “how’d we…?”
She emitted something caught between a muffled shriek and a groan as something creaked in her shoulder.
“Stop,” Aya said, “sit down. You’re hurt.”
“This much… is nothing,” Lillian barely managed to say, face so pale that it could even be seen through the bare light.
“No it’s not,” she said, “Your arm. Sit down and take off your armour. Something’s clearly wrong.”
Lillian seemed almost tempted, but ultimately shook her head. Just as Aya was about to deliver several sharp points about why should do exactly what she wanted, another voice came from the mists.
“Is that you? Lillian!” Naia said, as he came out of the mist.
“Commander?” she said, as she straightened with a wince of pain.
“Where are the children?” he said, glancing around.
“Lady Aya’s with me,” she said, “Niche is going to find the twins.”
“Oh, good.”
The commander seemed to also be injured, trying to shift his weight off his side. He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and spoke again.
“We’re in Albion,” he said, “I’m sure of it. Seems like I was right about the mage after all.”
“‘Right’?!” exclaimed Lillian in disbelief, “we have multiple injuries, we could’ve gotten killed back there on that Lost forsaken place! You deem that a success?”
“We’ve arrived at our intended destination, faster than the cliff-route. All of our men are here, most… no worse off than they were before. We still have our supplies, as far as I can tell. It might’ve had more bumps than we would’ve hoped, but yes, I would consider it a success.”
Lillian raised an arm to point, forgetting that it was injured. To her credit, she managed to suppress a scream, but it was enough to alert Naia.
“You’re injured,” he said, “forgive me for not noticing. In any case, we’ll soon get that looked at. We’ll have warm lodging and safe beds within the next few hours. The soldiers are meeting over by the light, cast by Lord Efrain.”
There was something frightening about Lillian’s expression, that went just beyond anger or pain. Naia’s eyes narrowed in response, straightening up and squaring his shoulders.
“No. His ‘shortcut’ for better or worse, worked. No plan is perfect. You will not-“
“My patience is running low, commander,” she said, voice steely calm, “I will not tolerate a mage, who has put us into danger not once, but twice. The only reason I haven’t already struck his head from his shoulders, is because I understand your gratitude for his aid in saving your men.”
Lilian herself drew up, and in that moment seemed far bigger to Aya than her physical form would suggest. Her body, as injured and exhausted as it may’ve been, now held an indomitable force.
“I am not your soldier or your servant. You do not hold rank over me. Your command is by courtesy, at the leisure of the Church. Do not presume to order me to do anything again.”
Naia’s eyes narrowed, and for one moment, Aya thought they might genuinely come to blows. Then the man relaxed, his hands dropping by his side.
“I do not wish to fight you, not over a mage or rank, Lillian. I would suggest however, not to invite any further risk by provoking him, especially while many of us are vulnerable.”
He punctuated this with a pointed look at her shoulder, and received a scowl in return.
“Let’s dispense with him, reward him for service, and send him on his way. We’ll continue without him. You only have to put up with him as long as that would take. Is that acceptable?”
Lillian seemed to relax at the reassurances.
“It is. But if I find any harm to the sacred children, I will kill him with my bare hands.”
Naia nodded.
“Now,” he sighed, “I have to go shepherd my captains. You don’t need any more assistance?”
“The offer is appreciated, but unnecessary.”
Naia said nothing more as he vanished off in the direction of the river.
“What was that?” Aya said, “aren’t you supposed to be friends?”
Lillian managed to marshal a neutral expression at the question.
“No. We’re not. We’re colleagues. Fellow soldiers in the armies of Angorrah. Not friends.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You will, once we-“ another audible creak, and a corresponding groan from Lillian as she went to her knees, “once we get back to the city.”
“You’re really hurt, aren’t you?” came another voice, from directly behind Aya, causing her to jump.
“You really are quiet for your size, Lord Frare,” Lillian said with a pained chuckle, “yes, I’m hurt. But it’s nothing that won’t heal.”
“Lillian,” said Sorore, nearly in tears, emerging beside her brother.
“I’ll be fine, my lady, I just need to…”
She rose to her feet, teeth gritted, and turned towards Niche.
“Niche, I need a word, please.”
Niche did not offer an objection as he came to her side, the two speaking in hushed tones. Frare and Sorore turned to Aya, the latter pensive, and the former nonchalant.
“So, what happened down there?” asked Frare, “the last thing I remember was falling off a cliff, or something similar. I dunno. It was fun.”
“Of course you would say that,” his sister sniffed, “it was horrible down there.”
“How bad could it really be? We all came out alive, no? I think.”
The twins began to argue about what exactly constituted the essence of a ‘bad’ experience, Aya looking on unimpressed. As her attention slowly began to drift back to the paladins holding their clandestine meeting near them. Before she could attempt to latch onto whatever words they were saying, she heard another sound.
Water, dripping.
She looked around, but couldn’t find anything large or close enough to line up with the sound she was experiencing. But there it was, definite, loud, and deep, the sound of water, dripping into some pool with a loud plop.
Her heart began to accelerate in her chest as the sound persisted. She looked around for some indication, any source where this could’ve come from, and yet… nothing. She didn’t want to ask, but if these two were truly ‘like her’, then they might be able to provide a solution, or at least, an explanation, to this odd sound.
“Do you… Do you hear that?” she said.
“Hear what?” the twins responded in unison.
“The sound… the thing… the water dripping. It’s loud.”
The two looked around confused.
“There’s nothing dripping. What do you mean?”
Just that little acknowledgement was enough to send shivers of panic up her spine. Oh no, oh no, oh no no no no, she thought as her heart leapt against her ribs. She was really going mad - she thought that she’d shaken it, but alas, the insanity clung to her like a foul smell and she would-
Her thoughts promptly slid off that track as she looked past, into the mist. There was a shadow, stretching above the buildings - something large and long, hundreds of limbs stretching down like tree branches. Long tendrils wandered up and away from its body. Along it, pale rings of a luminous blue swivelled and rolled, and focused on her.
Eyes, deep and still as a mountain lake, lined its body. Uncountably, fear was washed away in a tide of peace as the thing turned away into the fog - a long tail drifting behind it faded into the gloom.
Aya was left, gazing up in wonder at the vision. Any shock she felt was quickly compounded by the fact that the two twins were staring in wrap attention. Before she even had time to say anything, she was swarmed by the pair, their questioning nothing short of ferocious.
They asked her about what she had seen, heard, felt, smelled. Whether she’d been in the same place, or somewhere else? Had she seen men, or monsters, or both? Had she been to the grey beach?
Aya struggled to answer one of the questions, let alone all of them, bundled together and hurled at her like an avalanche. After a few moments, Frare seemed to realise that they were pressing her. This naturally resulted in a withdrawal, at first verbally, then physically as he hauled his sister away.
A few quick whispered words, and the two came before her in contrition. Finally, she was allowed to ask a question of her own.
“You mean… you’re like me?”
The question seemed to dumbfound the two, to the point where Frare laughed.
“Of course we are!” he said, “Why else would you be here, with us?”
Sorore nodded in turn.
“Then, how do you stop them?”
“Stop what?” the two asked in unison.
“The things, the… sights, the sounds.”
The look that the twins gave each other was difficult to read. It seemed to be an odd mixture of understanding, confusion, and pain. Sorore approached slowly, and took her hands. Aya felt just how warm hers seemed to be, and how surprisingly firm the grip was.
“We were the same,” she said, “at first. Scared, alone. We didn’t know what was happening, or who to turn to. Our mother-”
Her eyes grew misty at the words, some far off memory rearing in her mind.
“Our mother used to hold us close when the nightmares wouldn’t stop. I think… I think she was frightened too?”
“So, how did- how did you learn how to make it stop? Please,” she added at the end, and it sounded to her own mind quite pathetic.
“Oh Aya,” Sorore said, “it doesn’t stop. It just gets… easier.”
The girl wasn’t trying to be cruel, Aya knew that, but hearing that set off a wave of despair within her. It was true then, that she’d never be normal again. Would she continue to be consumed by the haunting visions, would she hurt someone again? The anxiety churned within her, the world spun.
And then, suddenly, a pair of voices, one wry and nasal, the other old and female, seemed to scoff at the notion.
“That’s… not true,” Aya said, with about as much confidence as a bird caught in a bear’s gaze.
“What?” said Sorore, her brow furrowing.
“I was with Efrain. The masked man, the mage. He gave me… something. Something that stopped the pain, the visions.”
Sorore shook her head in disbelief.
“He did!” Aya pressed on, “back before we entered the forest, he-”
“My lord and ladies,” said Niche, who’d appeared out of the morning fog, “best come along now. We must regroup with the others.”
The trio was escorted by Niche and Lillian, the latter grimacing with every step. They found the gaggle of soldiers, whispering in hushed tones under an orange glow with no apparent source. Several of them looked inquisitively upwards, and Aya thought she could see the traces of fear, or perhaps a healthy respect for it.
At the edge, where the shadows of the pre-dawn grew thick, Efrain and the commander seemed to be in deep discussion. The other men turned expectantly, awaiting the orders that would no doubt come. Naia emerged into the light, took a moment to gather his thoughts, and began.
“Well, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’ve had smoother journeys.”
The wry laughter was sparse, probably more than he would’ve hoped.
“But, at last, some rest is at hand. We are in Albion, more or less intact.”
Now that drew some murmuring from the crowd, but they were quickly silenced by the more attentive members.
“I know you have questions, and those, in due time, will be answered. But what we need now is food and rest. We have been well received in this village before. I hope we will be again. Mind your actions. Now, unto a plan.”
There seemed to be a settling in the crowd at the words.
“Once more, food and rest. To treat our wounded and regain our strength. I do not think \we will take more than a handful of days, less we wear out our welcome. Then, with all haste back to the split city, and home. Your captains and I shall divine a more exact route over the coming days.
Nodding and muffled affirmation. The crowd seemed satisfied for the moment.
“Now, I ask you to brave the discomfort of the morning unprotected for just a few more hours. I must find the priest, and confer with him. I would encourage you to take stock of what you have, or may’ve lost, if anything. Lady Damafelce, with me, if you please.”
Naia and the tall Hebeenian strode out into the mists, heading toward some unknown goal.
Aya shuddered slightly. Despite the dryness of her clothes, the damp was beginning to seep in, and whatever had conjured the warm light had not bothered to cast any heat. She started to move around, much to the protests of Niche. When she retorted that she would soon freeze if she stood still, he relented, so long as she stayed within the light’s range.
Aya spent her moments combing over the soldiers in various states of disarray. Some were certainly more injured than others - a litany of deep gashes and large bruises. All of them looked exhausted and more than a little displeased. It was in a latter group where she found a tall bald woman, helping one of the soldiers.
At least, Aya thought it was helping. From her vantage it was actually fairly difficult to tell. She was slowly, carefully, extracting long slivers of wood from his shoulders. Two other men served to hold the patient still, who was currently trying not to cry out.
The bloody wood was withdrawn from his flesh, to which he sighed with relief, before the woman spoke.
“Sorry about this next part. Bite down on this.”
The leather strip was taken with a confused expression, but he did as he was bid. The woman raised a pouch, and rubbed something in. At once, the man’s eyes bulged as he let out a muffled scream.
“What did you do to him?” asked one of the restrainers.
“Disinfectant. It works like a charm, but stings like a wasp,” the woman said, with an off putting cheer. She pursed her lips as she stared at the wounds.
“It still needs to be stitched and bound,” she said, “but I need somewhere drier, and brighter.”
The patient was on the ground, sweating and trembling, but the worst of the suffering seemed to have passed. At that moment, the woman made eye contact with Aya and smiled warmly. Aya was shocked to find she was starved for such an uncomplicated gesture of kindness.
Before any further contact could be made, she was pulled away by the paladins through the misty village. They came to a longhouse, significantly larger than the one in Visaya, and yet freely given for their lodgings. The knights immediately set to hanging up gear, and kidking fires in the pits.
As red and orange light started to wash the room, men began to cook whatever meagre supper they could, Aya huddled gratefully by the twins. To her surprise, she found herself famished and Frare was also starting to make inquiries of that nature.Niche found some reserves of cheese, bread, and various dried fruits. Last of all, a small chest of salt, a treasure this far from the sea, to the shock of Aya.
“A gift from my sisters,” he said smiling, “To keep evil things away.”
“The irony is not lost on him,” Lillian said, sitting down on one of the benches.
Even in the warm light of the house, her face was pale and clammy. Aya could see the difficulty of unsheathing the knife at her belt and handling it. Seized by a sudden desire, she reached out and grabbed at the knife which earned her a questioning look.
“Let me,” she said, Lillian beginning to protest.
“I know how to use it,” she insisted, “and you need to get that arm looked at.”
Reluctantly, Aya was lent the dagger, with a promise that she’d take good care of the fine-forged steel. She of course had her own, but there was a sense of wrongness in revealing that family heirloom to strangers. Retrieving the food from Niche, she did what she could, resulting in a somewhat serviceable meal.
They were passed around on slates of wood to the others, who took the food gratefully. Still, she could see the pain in the lines of Lillian’s face and despite her misgivings, felt pity. She thought of the mage, the lord Efrain - perhaps he would have some knowledge that would help.
But Lillian would never accept his help, that was sure, and besides, she had forbidden them from talking under implied penalty of death. So that was less than ideal, but still, in the darkness of the hall, with some plausible excuse, perhaps…
Once she had finished sup, Aya made the necessary excuses and with a promise to not stray outside, she got up to stretch her legs. It didn’t take her long to steal away to the back of the house, where the figure of Efrain sat in a darker alcove.
“I need your help,” she said, trying to project a sense of utmost urgency.
“Oh?” said Efrain, “I believed you were forbidden from speaking to me. What is your need?”
“I need to heal Lillian.”
From the air around her came an old woman’s laughter. The mage remained in sullen silence.
