Bonie sits perched atop a rocky knoll overlooking the whole of Dagger’s Deep. It is early morn, and the settlement is blanketed in a misty fog that portends rain. The thick air reminisces of the night the friends watched two forlorn travelers searching amid the darkness for something they would not find.
Or had they?
As if to underscore the likeness, the woman’s keen eyes are affixed to the very spot where Wyardt stood, grasping out and calling to her by name. The detail isn’t lost on Zeb as he approaches, though Bonie’s countenance speaks not of sadness nor longing, but of deep reflection and thought.
She doesn’t turn to regard him, but Zeb knows that her awareness is piqued. From Bonie, Zeb can conceal nothing, though to Zeb, the woman can seem impenetrable, as is the case at this moment, her hair tied dutifully back, wearing her customary dark leathers. Her deadly bow rests idly at her side.
“Did you know,” she begins, still without looking up, “that when West Tower was founded, goblin clans had to be purged from the surrounding hills by the Axe of Mirabar? The location was of strategic import to establishing a land route through the Khedrun Valley and accessing its villages. But the goblins that dwelt there were mighty in force: after a great battle was fought at the foot of Rolling Death Falls, a contingent of soldiers pursued the goblin chieftain for many miles upriver, all the way into the lower peaks of the Spine of the World.”
She runs a hand across her hair, above her left ear; Zeb watches with intent. “I know all this from Falinor Daggercross, for I was, after all, stationed in West Tower to observe his dealings, in secret, under the employ of the Abbé Lira. It feels a lifetime ago, so much that I only now have come to remember this recounting...
“When finally the Axe confronted the goblin chieftain and his remaining minions, a bloodbath raged o’er a mountain pass marked by a great boulder which bore twin sunken recesses, like the hollow eyes of an unworldly skull. Upon the chieftain’s slaying and the soldiers’ victory, the site was christened... Death’s Head Pass. That was forty years ago, more or less. Forty years ago, that is, from our time... sixty years from now.”
Finally, Bonie raises eyes to her counterpart, meeting his gaze. “The place has not yet been named, Zeb, though the name is scribed as clearly as the running waters of the River Mirar on the parchment we found sealed in an underground chamber, where it had lain dormant for years, if not decades. What does it mean?”
Or had they?
As if to underscore the likeness, the woman’s keen eyes are affixed to the very spot where Wyardt stood, grasping out and calling to her by name. The detail isn’t lost on Zeb as he approaches, though Bonie’s countenance speaks not of sadness nor longing, but of deep reflection and thought.
She doesn’t turn to regard him, but Zeb knows that her awareness is piqued. From Bonie, Zeb can conceal nothing, though to Zeb, the woman can seem impenetrable, as is the case at this moment, her hair tied dutifully back, wearing her customary dark leathers. Her deadly bow rests idly at her side.
“Did you know,” she begins, still without looking up, “that when West Tower was founded, goblin clans had to be purged from the surrounding hills by the Axe of Mirabar? The location was of strategic import to establishing a land route through the Khedrun Valley and accessing its villages. But the goblins that dwelt there were mighty in force: after a great battle was fought at the foot of Rolling Death Falls, a contingent of soldiers pursued the goblin chieftain for many miles upriver, all the way into the lower peaks of the Spine of the World.”
She runs a hand across her hair, above her left ear; Zeb watches with intent. “I know all this from Falinor Daggercross, for I was, after all, stationed in West Tower to observe his dealings, in secret, under the employ of the Abbé Lira. It feels a lifetime ago, so much that I only now have come to remember this recounting...
“When finally the Axe confronted the goblin chieftain and his remaining minions, a bloodbath raged o’er a mountain pass marked by a great boulder which bore twin sunken recesses, like the hollow eyes of an unworldly skull. Upon the chieftain’s slaying and the soldiers’ victory, the site was christened... Death’s Head Pass. That was forty years ago, more or less. Forty years ago, that is, from our time... sixty years from now.”
Finally, Bonie raises eyes to her counterpart, meeting his gaze. “The place has not yet been named, Zeb, though the name is scribed as clearly as the running waters of the River Mirar on the parchment we found sealed in an underground chamber, where it had lain dormant for years, if not decades. What does it mean?”
"It's just a piece of paper," I reply coldly, perhaps a little more sting in my tone than I had planned. For all our attempts to turn our backs on the past...indeed, the future, chronologically speaking, it has proven nearly impossible. First Kezia's reading, then the keravela with their prophecies, now the parchment...and who knows what Audric may discover in Mirabar, but it seems that dealing with the matter cannot be avoided.
ReplyDelete"That came out wrong," I admit, though I can see from the look in Bonie's eyes that the damage is already done. "I don't know what it means," I admit, helplessness and frustration clear in my voice. "You and I could take the masons north tomorrow along with a host of men, and we could shatter that boulder. Would that change the future? Or would those battles still take place, only to be forgotten by history because there's no convenient landmark to memorialize the conflict?"
I know that these are questions that cannot be answered, and I force my tone to soften when I address Bonie again. "I hate to think that all of this," I say as I point to Dagger's Deep, "means that what we accomplished before has been erased. Though our pasts have been tumultuous, those experiences belong to us, those relationships shaped us. I won't believe that our futures are predetermined, and that our actions now have no consequence."
Realizing that the conversation has steered into philosophical territory that leaves me unsure of my footing, I'm silent for a long while, content just to be in Bonie's company. Finally, I break the silence.
"If there's one thing I'm sure of, though, it's that the gods have their hand in this." I finger my totem to Malar, appreciative that my own deity keeps his nose out of my business. "And whether that god is Mystryl, Mystra, or any other, I don't appreciate being used." The threat hangs in the air, with only Bonie to witness it, and several more moments of peaceful silence pass.
"This has been too good to easily give up," I say, pulling myself to my feet, reaching down to help Bonie rise as well. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?" I ask, breaking the tension. Bonie knows well what that means, and just nods silently, knowing that by 'take a walk' I mean to scout the approach to Dagger's Deep, anxious over Selben and Audric's return.
The young woman, for a few fleeting moments, brandishes the look of a dejected foal, but the expression quickly passes, and her features again harden. Instinctively, she draws her hand to her own strand of fetishes when Zeb invokes the names of gods, her mind a churning sea of questions.
DeleteThey walk for several minutes before the ensuing silence is broken. "I... I simply want to know our place in all this: why we're here, the reasons for leaving loved ones behind, whether any of it owns to a greater purpose. Is it enough to continue on as we are, in a time and place that's not our own? I don't deny my favor for... the life we've come to know in Dagger's Deep. But it doesn't feel permanent, rather of a dream to be wakened from at any moment."
When Selben, Audric and Zargon do not return for yet another night, I lie at night anxious, staring at the top of our tent, listening to Bonie breathe gently beside me. She was quiet most of the day, content to leave me to my pacing about and worrying, but I could tell that our conversation still weighed heavily on her thoughts.
DeleteFrustrated, I climb out of bed and eye my knives sheathed and hanging from a hook on one of the tent poles, the large hammer leaning next to it. Jakke perks up, and I contemplate for a moment strapping the blades on and heading into the night looking for something to kill...but ultimately decide against it.
This is not a conundrum for Malar to solve, nor will reveling in the lust of a kill provide any clarity. Bonie's words aren't the catalyst for these thoughts...but the turmoil her statements caused are indicative of something underlying, something festering beneath the surface that needs cut out.
Sighing, I remain seated and watch her breathe, moonlight sneaking in through gaps in the tent cloth to cast a pale radiance over her. The truth hurts--we're enjoying borrowed time. Whatever peace we've created in Dagger's Deep is temporary, and the seams are starting to show. Whether it's the keravela, or visions of Wyardt, or scraps of parchment containing knowledge that defy possibility, the reality of our situation is that it just won't leave me in peace.
There's pathos in that revelation, in the realization that the peace I've fought so hard to win with Bonie could be so easily shattered. But there's also catharsis in coming to grips with that, in the decision to take action instead of waiting for the peace to be sundered by outside forces. Sleep eventually comes, but it's restless and I awaken early. By the time Bonie extricates herself from the bedroll, I have prepared both of our kits for a journey, supplies gathered and neatly bundled, ready for travel.
When she shoots me a questioning eyebrow, I shrug. "Whatever this is," I say pointing to her, then waving around to indicate the rest of Dagger's Deep, "I'm done waiting for something to come along and ruin it. If we're ever going to truly find peace, we need to confront out problems."
She's characteristically stoic over breakfast, but when I find her later examining the packs and correcting a few of my oversights, I smile, reaching down to scratch behind Jakke's ears. He seems approving of my intent to depart as well.
"But we wait for Audric to get back. I'm not leaving that rockpile underneath the river keep alone without knowing more, if or how it relates to that damned piece of paper, how it might relate to us."
"And once that's done," I say, this time with less certainty, "I think we should return to the source of all this." I shake my head at her obvious assumption. "Not the Khedrun Valley, at least not yet. Longsaddle." Her surprise is evident.
"I'm not sure if Audric will agree, but the Harpells got us into this mess, I refuse to believe there's not more to learn about it in that mansion, even if it means kicking in the door and spanking young 'master' Brehan. And Soliania, damn her, knows more about this, I swear it."
"I sent Selben on a fool's errand to look for information to the north, when I think all along we should have been looking south." I let the words hang, knowing that they're empty until our companions return and certainly until Audric has had his chance to hate the plan.
For all my bravado, I'm unable to leave it at that. "That is, of course," I say to Bonie quietly, "assuming you're on board. None of this means anything if you're not in." Jakke barks conveniently nearby, and I leave to give Bonie some space to consider my words, and their implications.
"If ye’re asking if I mean to follow ye," Bonie calls out, causing Zeb to turn back and meet her approach whilst Jakke bounds away over the next rise, "...I already answered that, long ago."
DeleteShe nears him, her gaze cutting deeply into Zeb's eyes, emanating scrutiny. "But for my part... I do think it seems a sound plan. I agree that the elf maiden has knowledge far beyond our own. Whether she knows anything that relates to us, I cannot say, but she's wizened to the world, and to the workings of magic as well... this I don't doubt."
They stand in silence for several moments as the morning air lingers about them. Both can feel the same heightened tension, whether for the anticipated return of their companions, or from something else entirely. "Will we even be allowed back in the village, after what we transpired there?" Bonie asks at length. "We didn't exactly make our departure on pleasant terms."
I smile in response to her question. "One step ahead of you on that one. While Zeb, Bonie, and certainly Audric may find entry blocked, I doubt that the 'official trade delegation of Dagger's Deep' would face the same obstacle." I let her think on that a second before continuing. "Even then, you're right...it may not work. And we'll need the blessing of Perhegan, obviously...but I don't think Soliania will turn us away."
ReplyDelete"Ne'er underestimate a woman's ability to see through a facade," Bonie replies curtly, but then she returns Zeb's grin. "But I do think you're right: I don't expect that she'll turn us away, not so long as we mind ourselves and remain cordial. Let us hear what the others have to say for your plan, upon their return."
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