Kalzara
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MoftheH: Chapter 24
🕑 Added 2024-03-20 00:34:04 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note
The content of this chapter does NOT reflect my religious beliefs, this is strictly the work of fiction.
Darian hurried through the bustling streets of Arbrook, his heart pounding. He had to find Kara and her father before they left the city. If they had already set out on the road...he shuddered at the thought. The image of Kara cradling her father's bloody body flashed through his mind. No. He wouldn't let that happen again.
He stopped yet another passerby, a plump man with a greying beard. "Please sir, I'm looking for a girl named Kara and her father Jorn. They're farmers, probably staying at one of the cheaper inns. Have you seen them?"
The man scratched his beard, thinking. "Kara and Jorn, you say? Aye, I might've seen 'em at the Pickled Pig last night. Over on Tanner's Row."
"The Pickled Pig. Got it. Thanks mister!" Darian called over his shoulder, already running again. Tanner's Row was on the other side of the market district. He wove through the crowds, dodging carts and leaping over piles of rubbish.
He couldn't be too late. He just couldn't.
After what felt like ages, the peeling sign of the Pickled Pig came into view. Darian skidded to a halt, gasping for breath. There, loading up a mule in front of the inn - a tall man with dark hair and a girl in a simple dress. Kara and Jorn.
"Wait!" Darian yelled, sprinting towards them. "Kara! Mister Jorn! You can't go!"
They both whirled around, startled. Jorn stepped in front of his daughter protectively, squinting at Darian with suspicion. "Who're you, boy? What do you want with us?"
"Please, listen," Darian panted, hands on his knees. "You're in danger. There's going to be an attack on the road, bandits waiting in ambush. If you leave tomorrow, they'll -"
"Whoa there, slow down." Jorn held up a hand, frowning. "What nonsense is this? Bandits? An ambush? And just how would a young sprig like you know about it?"
"I...I overheard them," he lied. "In the woods near my village. They were talking about how easy it would be, with all the students burdened down with valuables from the city."
It was a weak story, and he knew it. But what choice did he have? Jorn studied him for a long moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. Then he snorted, shaking his head.
"I think you've been listening to too many tavern tales, boy. Bandits, ambushes - it's the stuff of stories, not real life. The roads are well-patrolled this time of year. If there was any truth to these rumours, the city guard would've dealt with it."
Kara peeked out from behind her father, eyes wide. "Da? What's he talking about? How does he know my name?"
"I don't know, girl. But I don't like it." Jorn glowered at Darian, meaty fists clenching. "Now see here, boy. I don't know what game you're playing, but you'd best clear off. Stop bothering me and my daughter, or there'll be trouble. Understand?"
Darian felt the tendrils of panic twisting in his belly. They didn't believe him. Of course they didn't. Why would they? To them, he was just some mad stranger, spouting insane warnings. He tried again anyway, desperate.
"Please, you have to listen! The bandits, they're -"
"I said enough!" Jorn roared. He took a step forward, looming over Darian. "I won't say it again, boy. Leave. Us. Alone."
He turned back to the mule, checking the straps on its load. "Now run along, lad. And don't go making trouble, or I'll tan your hide."
Darian flinched back, tears of frustration pricking at his eyes. Kara stared at him wide-eyed, half-hidden behind her father.
"I-I'm sorry," Darian whispered. "I just...I don't want you to get hurt. Either of you."
For a moment, Jorn's expression softened. Then he sighed, running a hand over his face.
"Aye, well. I appreciate your concern, lad, misplaced as it is. But you've got no call to be worrying about us. We'll be just fine."
He swung up onto the mule, reaching down to help Kara up behind him. "You just focus on those books of yours. Put this foolishness out of your mind. The world's not half so exciting as you young ones like to think."
With that, he kicked the mule into motion. Darian could only stand and watch as they joined the stream of travellers leaving the city, disappearing into the dust and distance.
He'd failed. Again. What was the point of being able to come back if he couldn't even save two people? He swiped at his cheeks angrily. No. He couldn't think like that. The Church of Light was sending warriors. Skilled adventurers like Elias Wolfheart were going to help. With the gods' grace, it would be enough. It had to be.
Clasping his hands together, Darian closed his eyes and prayed under his breath. "Holy Light, please, please watch over Kara and her father. And everyone else on the roads. Don't let it happen again. Not this time. I'm begging you..."
He stayed like that for a long moment, whispering to the heavens. Then, with a shuddering sigh, he turned and walked back to the Dancing Dragon.
All he could do now was wait. And hope.
***
Three days later
Darian sat cross-legged on his lumpy bed, hunched over a letter in his hands. The parchment was creased and smudged from how many times he'd unfolded and reread it.
Breck had sent a pigeon to Brookhaven a few days ago, letting Darian's mother know they'd be staying in Arbrook a bit longer than planned. He hadn't mentioned the real reason why, of course. No need to worry her with tales of premonitions and bandit ambushes. Just said that Darian wanted to take in the sights after his exam.
Darian hadn't expected a reply. Pigeon post was expensive, and his mother couldn't really spare the coppers. But here it was, her familiar looping script making his chest tighten.
Rubbing his thumb over the broken blue wax seal - the one his father had left behind, what felt like lifetimes ago - Darian took a shaky breath and began to read.
My dearest boy,
I hope yer doing alright out there in the city. We got yer message about staying longer - I'm glad for it. Breck's a good sort, he'll look after you proper.
But you mind you behave, ya hear? Don't need you getting into no trouble out there.
Yer sister's been right sad, missing her big brother. I've tried to keep her busy, but you know how she gets. She wanted to write to you herself, so here she is.
You take care now. Come home safe to us.
Love, Ma
There was a line of blotchy ink, as if the quill had dripped while being passed. Then a new set of letters marched across the page, larger and even more crooked than the last.
Der DARIN!
Talia had never quite gotten the trick of spelling his name, no matter how many times he'd patiently corrected her.
You have dun the EGSAM!! i'm shure you got the hi-est score of ENEEWUN!! Wen you get bak, I want you to teech me EVEREETHING you lernd!! You pomised we can play skool and I sed I will be the bestest stoodent!! Also pleese bring me sum treeeeeets!! Ma says we cant aford the fancee sity food but you can sneek me sum. I wont tell!!
Luv you THIS much, Talia
Darian couldn't help but chuckle, he could just picture her, tiny tongue poking out the corner of her mouth as she laboured over the note, determined to write it all herself.
He'd have to tuck some sweets into his bag for her. Besides her words was a slightly smudged drawing of two stick figures holding hands, one much bigger than the other.
Darian swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, vision blurring as he traced a finger over the childish lines. What if he never made it home to fulfil that promise? He couldn't bear the thought of Talia waiting endlessly for a brother who would never return. But he couldn't dwell on such dark thoughts.
At the bottom of the page was one last message, this one in a bolder, messier scrawl that Darian recognised instantly.
Darian,
I now you aced that test! Your the smartist in the hole villige.
Its so bering here withowt you. Tali always wants me too play with her but I dont no how too play with dolls and stuf.
I hate it at the orfanage. The other kids are been meen to me agen and the grownups dont care. They just yell at us all the time. I mis are adventurs. Remembir that cave we found last sumer? The one with the wierd piktures? I went bak there yesterday and I think I saw sumthing! Probly just a bunny or fox but wooldnt it be wicked if it was a tresure?
I cant wait for you too come home. Adventuring isnt the saym without my best mate.
Thomas
Darian stared at the letter, vision blurring. A drop of water splattered onto the parchment, smearing the ink. It took him a moment to realize he was crying.
Gods, he missed them. His mother, his sister. Thomas. He'd been so focused on the exam, on stopping the bandits, he hadn't let himself feel the ache of their absence. But now it hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing his breath.
His gaze strayed to the window, watching people bustle by. Arbrook was incredible, there was no denying that. All he'd ever dreamed of and more. But...it wasn't home.
He sighed, refolding the letter carefully and tucking it into his satchel. He couldn't think about this now. He had to focus on the here and now.
It had been three days, but he had yet to hear anything. He hoped no news was good news. Surely if the Church and the adventurers had clashed with the bandits, word would have reached the city by now? Unless they'd been too late. Unless the attack had already happened, and Kara and her father were...
No. No, he couldn't think like that. He had to believe he'd done enough, changed enough. Darian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Everything would be alright. It had to be.
The waiting was agony. Minutes felt like hours, a day like an eternity. He paced the small room like a caged animal, unable to focus on his books or even sit still. His stomach twisted itself into knots, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.
When the door burst open, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Breck and Lila tumbled in, their faces grim. Darian knew, even before they spoke. He could see it in the slump of their shoulders, the haunted shadow in their eyes.
"The roads?" he croaked. "The attack?"
"Just got word," Breck said heavily. "From some merchants fleeing the carnage. All the roads out of the city...it was a bloodbath, lad." He shook his head, looking aged a decade. "Men, women, children...it didn't matter. Those whoresons cut them all down just the same."
Lila was openly crying, shoulders shaking. "My neighbours, the Crofts...they were set to travel back today too." Her voice cracked. "Little Alys is only six. She plays with my sisters." Her face crumpled, and she pressed a fist to her mouth.
Darian felt like the ground had dropped out from under him. The room swayed, Breck and Lila's voices fading to a distant buzz. No. No, it couldn't be happening again. Not after everything he'd done to change it...
"The Church!" he blurted suddenly, desperately. "They were supposed to send warriors, to protect the roads! What about them?"
Breck and Lila exchanged a confused glance. "The Church?" Breck said slowly. "Lad, what are you on about? There weren't no priests out there."
Lila wiped at her cheeks. "Some adventurers got wind of it somehow, showed up in time to save a few. But mostly..." She swallowed hard. "Mostly they just got revenge. Tracked the bandits to their lair and cut them down to the last man." Her jaw clenched, a vicious satisfaction glinting in her wet eyes. "Bastards got what they deserved, at least."
But Darian was barely listening. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of it. The priest had promised. He'd looked Darian in the eye and sworn the Church would protect the innocent. So where had they been? Why hadn't they...
He felt sick. Betrayed. Had it all been a lie? Empty platitudes from a man who never intended to risk his own skin? Or had the priest been sincere, only for his superiors to overrule him? He didn't know. And right then, he didn't care.
"I have to go," he said abruptly.
Breck frowned at him. "Go? Go where, lad? There's naught to be done now, it's over-"
But Darian was already shoving past him, nearly knocking Lila over in his haste. "I'll be back," he threw over his shoulder. Then he was running, taking the stairs three at a time and bursting out into the street.
He pelted towards the cathedral, lungs burning and eyes stinging with furious tears. No. They didn't get to do this. They didn't get to promise hope and then snatch it away. If the Church thought they could just shrug this off, go back to their sermons and ceremonies like nothing had happened...
He'd make them answer for it. For every drop of innocent blood spilled.
The cathedral loomed before him, impossibly huge and blindingly white. Usually the sight of it filled Darian with awe. Now, it just made him want to scream. He took the steps at a dead run, shouldering through the massive doors so hard they crashed against the walls.
Darian stormed down the aisle, ignoring the shocked and scandalized looks from the worshippers he bumped into. He had eyes only for the priest standing at the altar, the same kindly old man who had seemed so sincere in his desire to help.
"COWARD!" Darian yelled, the word ripped from somewhere deep in his guts. "LIAR!"
The priest turned, blinking mildly at him. If he was surprised by Darian's appearance or enraged shout, it didn't show on his face. "Ah, young man," he said calmly. "I've been expecting you."
That brought Darian up short, some of his righteous fury directed into confusion. "What?"
The priest clasped his hands, regarding Darian with an infuriatingly serene expression. "I understand you are upset, my son. What happened on the roads was a terrible tragedy. But you must trust that the Light had a greater plan."
Darian gaped at him, rage and disbelief warring in his chest. "A greater plan? People DIED! Innocent people, who I came to you to protect!"
A ringing silence fell over the cathedral. Every eye was on them now, the priests and worshippers staring in slack-jawed horror at Darian's brazen disrespect. The old priest didn't so much as flinch.
"It is not for us to question the Light's will," he said gently. "We are but pieces on a great gameboard, the full scope of which only the gods can see. If they allowed this to happen, it was for a reason."
"Well it's a flaming piss-poor reason!" Darian snarled. Gasps echoed off the vaulted ceiling at his language, but he was too far gone to care. "You promised me! You said the Church would keep them safe!"
"The ways of the divine are not for us to question. I did as the Light bid me, no more and no less." He spread his hands in a 'what can you do' gesture. "The Light's plans are mysterious and not always clear to us until -"
"STOP SAYING THAT!" Darian roared. Tears were pouring down his face now, hot and fast. "Stop hiding behind the gods, behind this 'ineffable plan' rubbish! You failed! The Light failed! Admit it!"
"Enough!" a red-faced priest shouted, stomping over. "You will not speak such blasphemy in this sacred place, boy!" He made a grab for Darian's arm, as if to bodily throw him out.
Darian wrenched away, backing up a few steps. The anger was draining out of him now, replaced by a terrible, aching grief. "Keep your prayers and your platitudes," he spat, viciously satisfied when the priest recoiled as if slapped. "If this is what the Light's protection looks like, it's worth less than spit."
He turned on his heel and ran back up the aisle, leaving a sea of horrified faces in his wake. He could hear the worshippers whispering to each other, their voices following him out into the street.
"...disgraceful, such blatant disrespect..."
"...no surprise, coming from an ignorant peasant..."
"...the youth these days, no regard for proper conduct..."
Darian walked blindly, hot tears still running down his face. In his mind's eye, he kept seeing Kara and her father, their mangled bodies strewn across the road. Alys Croft, gap-toothed and giggling, too young to understand why her mummy wouldn't wake up.
How many more? How many lives had he failed to save?
The world blurred, his feet carrying him without conscious thought. Time lost all meaning as Darian wandered the city, drowning in sorrow and guilt. His mind ran in useless circles, replaying every moment since he'd woken in that inn bed, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong.
Eventually, he fetched up in an unfamiliar alley, sagging against the wall as huge, shuddering sobs wracked his frame. He felt so helpless, so lost. Even with his impossible knowledge, he hadn't been able to change anything. Fate, it seemed, would not be denied. Not by him. Not by anyone.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," a wry voice said from right next to him.
