Mistress Part [3/3]

         By evening, the forest began to thin around them. It was quite dark underneath the shade of the trees, the sun having dipped low near the horizon, setting the sky afire as it prepared for its night-time departure.

         As they had walked down the road, Thalon had given Faeya a wider and wider berth. She had dried up by now, but the stench of blood was still strong.

         Another scent caught Thalon’s attention then, the smell of moisture and wet rocks, along with the sound of rushing water.

         The trees thinned even further as they moved forward, falling away at the edge of their vision as the ground dipped downwards. The grass gave way to a grey rocky shoreline, with the wide expanse of the River Tor beyond, painted with flecks of orange by the setting sun. The view opened up to great green fields that stretched away to a waving line of blue mountains on the horizon.

         Faeya began to move faster, pulling ahead of Thalon, and he called after her.

         “Hey, wait up.”

         Faeya broke into a run, and Thalon called again.

         “Faeya!”

         She splashed through the water, then leapt into the river, swiftly vanishing beneath the surface.

         Thalon dropped Faeya’s coat as he trotted forward, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

         She surfaced then, much deeper in the river, mouth wide as she gasped for air, arms flailing before she was dragged under, caught up in that rushing stream.

         “Shit!” Thalon cursed. He ran forward then, his shield clanging loudly down behind him, closely followed by a clatter as he unfastened the strap of his scabbard.

         “Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!” he yelled, hopping out of his boots in a frenzy. He fumbled with the buttons of his brown vest, but as he caught a glimpse of black hair much further down the river, he tore the thing off, then cast it aside. He ran with all his might, but Faeya was being swept farther and farther away from him.

         Suddenly he slowed, closing his eyes as he called upon his goddess.

         One morning, what seemed like ages ago but was in reality only a few days, Thalon had told Faeya that the wind was his element. While he didn’t possess the woman’s mastery over that element, he had acquired a legendary artifact some time ago, an object that bestowed a unique blessing upon him.

         The Wings of Zarbree.

         Thalon’s eyes flashed open and he suddenly, rapidly, began picking up speed. He could feel his body lightening, and he seemed to leap more than run, each stride taking him farther than the last as the ground flew by in a blur beneath him. When he was close enough to Faeya, Thalon leapt out over the water, stretching out with his arms in front of him as he flew across, his body parallel to the rushing stream.

Beneath the surface of the water, Faeya tumbled along, thrashing around and kicking violently, trying to pull herself to the surface. Her head was pounding and she could feel darkness closing in on her, but then suddenly, miraculously, she felt Thalon’s arms around her, she felt herself being torn away from those deadly currents. As her head broke the surface of the water, Faeya’s eyes popped open, and she could see the sky spinning above her through a veil of green, ghost-like feathers.

         She felt the pull of gravity keenly then, and feared that she would be dropped right back into the water, but shortly afterwards Faeya landed -hard- on the rocky shoreline. She gasped for air, spluttering and coughing up water, then hearing a groan beside her, she scrambled over, clutching onto Thalon’s shirt tightly, burying her face in his chest, both of them panting. Faeya pulled herself closer then, as if she was afraid the river would leap out and grab her if she didn’t anchor herself to this man.

         Without thinking, Thalon wrapped an arm around Faeya, clutching her trembling shoulder with his hand, then sat up with the woman still clinging to him. He looked down the river, watching the white dot of Faeya’s hat disappear in the distance as he spoke.

         “What the hell were you doing? Do you even know how to swim?” he gasped.

         Faeya was silent for a moment, waiting to catch her breath before replying quietly.

         “I hate the smell of blood,” she said.

         Of course you do, Thalon thought. You hate killing, except when you love it. You hate blood, and yet you bathe in it. You can’t swim, but you jump into the river. Were you trying to drown yourself? What the hell…

         It was all so ridiculous.

         So Thalon laughed, loud and hard, and soon, Faeya joined him.

* * *

SOME time later, Faeya and Thalon set up camp at the side of the road. After doing some backtracking upstream, the two had found a bridge, crossed the River Tor, and continued on their way, following a dirt road. As night descended on them, they had dug a small fire pit and foraged for the suitable materials, and Thalon had ignited the dry branches with a burst of sparks from his fingertips.

         As they sat down by the dim glow of the fire, Faeya shivered.

         “It’s freezing out here,” she said.

         “Maybe you should think about that before you go jumping into rivers, and I’m not much better off, no thanks to you,” said Thalon, somewhat irritably. Faeya frowned.

         “I didn’t ask you to jump in after me.”

         “So you’d prefer it if I let you drown?”

         “I wasn’t going to drown, Thalon. The waters are much calmer further down the river, I would’ve just washed up on the shore,” Faeya said nonchalantly. Thalon narrowed his eyes at that.

         “Are you speaking from experience?” he asked.

         “Maybe,” Faeya responded, lifting her chin up and looking down her nose at the man across from her. “Anyways, could you hand me my coat?”

         In response, Thalon picked up the heavy trench coat and draped it over his own shoulders, pulling it tightly around him and inching closer to the fire.

         “Ooh yeah! This thing is so warm,” he said, grinning as he stared into the flames. Feeling Faeya’s questioning glance, Thalon looked up into her eyes. “Hey, whether you want to admit it or not, you owe me for saving your ass earlier.”

         Faeya scowled at that, and Thalon laughed before continuing.

         “Relax,” he said. He twisted to his left then, opening up his pack and pulling out the cushioned bedroll and sleeping bag, then setting them up next to Faeya. “You can use these.” Faeya smiled.

         “Why thank you, kind sir,” she said. Faeya pulled off her boots, but when she moved to slip inside the sleeping bag, Thalon stopped her.

         “Hold on, you can’t go in like that,” he began, “I don’t want to be carrying around a wet sleeping bag tomorrow.” He then pulled out the waterproof tarp that he’d used the previous night, and unrolled it in-between the fire and the bedroll. “Here, lay out your clothes to dry on this,” he said.

         Faeya shrugged, then reached to unbutton her shirt -which was now coloured in shades of pink- but then shot Thalon an impatient look.

         “What?” said Thalon.

         “Turn around,” said Faeya.

         And he did, waiting a few moments for the woman to undress. Then turning around again when she had settled in.

         “Goodnight Thalon,” said the scrollmaster.

         “Goodnight Faeya,” said the prince.

         Faeya closed her eyes, and wormed her way deeper into the sleeping bag, while Thalon picked up his scabbard. As Thalon sat there -lazily twisting that scabbard about so that the firelight caught the facets of the topaz in the pommel of his sword- Faeya opened one eye to observe him.

         “Aren’t you going to sleep?” she asked.

         “Eh, we’re not far off from the wilds now, I figured I’d keep watch for a bit.”

         “Suit yourself,” Faeya said before settling back in.

         Thalon sat there for many more moments, watching as the silver and the gemstones on the hilt and scabbard of his sword threw points of light across the bare ground. Eventually growing bored with the too-familiar features of his weapon, he looked off to his right, northward to where the dazzling lights of Thorville were merely a dim glow on the horizon, obscured by the treeline. He scanned the night-time scenery, spotting a few campfires scattered around his position -but at a fair distance- or the lights of travellers on the road. Seeing nothing else of interest, he turned his gaze skyward, spotting the silver disc of the full moon, and the countless sparkling stars of the clear night sky, the most notable of them belonging to the silvery stream known as The Dragon’s Last Breath. Searching around, he recognized one particularly bright yellow star as Araked, the Fourth World. He briefly, and half heartedly attempted to locate several other celestial bodies, but failed to recognize any of the other Worlds, nor did he spot The God’s Eye or The Devourer’s Disc.

         Finally, warily, Thalon’s gaze settled on Faeya, who was by now, fast asleep.

         She was breathing evenly, and far from the restless sleep he had been expecting, Faeya looked more peaceful now than he had ever seen her. In fact, she looked more peaceful sleeping now than anyone he had ever seen. She mumbled something then and smiled, and Thalon couldn’t contain his own smile as he watched her.

         Thalon yawned then, allowing himself to feel the heaviness of his eyelids, allowing them to droop, and finally, to close.



         In Thalon’s dream he stood naked on a barren plain. The ground was cracked, drained of all moisture, yet dark clouds streamed past overhead. Those clouds were ripped into jagged streaks of blackness as they tore across the bland yellowish sky at impossible speeds, casting rippling waves of shadow across the barren plains.

         “What am I doing here?” he asked to the emptiness around him. And somehow, his voice rebounded off of walls that weren’t there, echoing around him, growing loud and distorted as the echoes blended together in what sounded like a woman’s laughter. The noise pounded against his ears like thunder, then stopped abruptly.

         “I have get out of this place,” he told himself, but his voice did not echo this time. His words seemed to travel a very short distance, muffled by some foul force so that they barely left the range of his own ears, as if they were sucked backwards into his head.

         “Zarbree, lend me your wings,” he called, and soon he felt himself growing lighter. His feet lifted from the cracked earth and he flew upwards and outwards.

         He felt weightless, he didn’t feel the usual rush of wind across his skin, he felt neither warm, nor cold. As he rose up, he felt less and less, growing more numb with each beat of his wings, as if he were moving further away from his physical body.

         “Where am I?” he asked himself, he looked for the sun to guide him but it was missing from the sky. He wasn’t even sure if it was day or night then, but he couldn’t see the moon or the stars, only the pale, even yellow that stretched from horizon to horizon. He flew on then, aimlessly.

         “Where am I going?” he asked himself. He didn’t know, he thought that maybe if he rose higher, above the clouds, that he could see some landmark to guide him. As he rose he lost all feeling. He felt his view widening suddenly, and realized that the features of his face could no longer be seen in his peripheral vision, that his body as a whole had vanished. Now he could only watch as the black clouds grew closer, and the ground grew farther away.

         Rather than revealing more of the land however, as Thalon rose the ground faded away to that faint pale yellow, as if it was swept over by a wave of fog.

         As he rose, he was suddenly enveloped in darkness. He could feel his body then, as the cold wetness of the cloud brushed against his skin.          He felt the dark cloud pulling at him and he didn’t resist, hoping that it would take him far away to someplace new.

         He felt an icy chill as something wrapped around his right ankle, and that chill grew into burning pain as he felt his skin freezing. He looked down to see a blue, cadaverous hand grasping at him, following the boney, rotting flesh up the length of one blue arm. His gaze settled on the pale blue, bug-eyed face of one of the men he’d killed today, seeing the jaw hanging loosely by a strip of skin, the dark red flesh of it’s bloody gaping maw, and the sharp cracked and yellowed teeth below the figures hole of a nose.

         He looked down to his left, as another creature latched on to him, this time with it’s teeth biting down hard on his leg. A few stringy streaks of blonde hair clung to that blue scalp, the skin stretched so thinly across the things head that it looked about ready to split apart. He recognized the woman, one of the novice mercenaries that he’d skewered near the edge of the camp. Thalon yelled out in pain as the woman’s teeth dug deeper, and he saw blood streaming down his leg then falling downwards into darkness. Soon, more of the silent corpses faded in from the darkness around him, swarming him, digging into him with their nails and teeth, drawing blood and tearing away at his flesh, feasting on him.

         Thalon tried to struggle away, tried to push them away, but his arms were pinned to his sides, and his legs were bound together by the wiry limbs of his assailants.

         Thalon screamed.

         The sound echoed around the darkness eerily, again distorting into the sound of laughter, but this time it was neither male nor female. It carried strange -inhuman- harmonics, screeching and booming and rumbling and whispering all at once.

         Thalon felt a burning agony around his groin then, surrounding and igniting his most tender area as something squeezed down on him, and he screamed louder.

         As his screams were amplified around him by the monstrous laughter, the sound pounded at his senses, setting off a loud painful screeching in his ears. He struggled to move his head then -fighting against the pull of a hand clutching the top of his skull- pulling his chin downwards to rest on his chest, and looking down the length of his tortured form. He saw the corpse of a large, muscled woman straddling him, following a line of long orange hair upwards. Streaks of blackened flesh wired their way across the woman’s breasts, leading up to a larger patch just below her neck where Thalon’s lightning had scorched her. He looked up at Griselda’s face, which was split open from the tip of the nose down to the chin, cutting a line through the floor of her mouth and into her throat. Several teeth hung down from her face on slimy strings of flesh. A wet rattling wheeze came from her destroyed face, as if she was trying to say something, but it only sent blood spraying outwards, splashing down on Thalon’s chest and face. The dark droplets hissed like acid as they touched his skin, burning away at him.

         Thalon screamed.



         He awoke with a start, eyes popping wide, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air. Noticing how close he was to the fire pit, Thalon rolled away frantically, fearing that he had caught ablaze. The fire had been reduced to a pit of glowing embers by now, however. He clutched at himself, at his ankles, his legs, his chest, but -aside from the deep cut on his shoulder from the earlier fighting- he was unscathed. Thalon rolled on to his side then -still draped in Faeya’s black trench coat- and he clutched at his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart as it slowly calmed down to it’s normal pace.

         Although it was still dark out, the moon had faded from sight and he noted the sky lightening in the east. He could see movement around a nearby camp as people made preparations for the upcoming day.

         Sitting up, he looked over at Faeya, and was relieved to note that the commotion hadn’t disturbed her. She still lay curled up in Thalon’s sleeping bag, snoring contentedly.

         So I’m the one that gets the nightmares now, Thalon thought, smiling grimly.

         He thought that he better understood her condition now. During Faeya’s long journey up to and through the Empire, she had been starved of blood. The following days of inactivity had not aided her, and the corruption -the chaotic energy- had built up to dangerous levels. That corruption manifested itself in the form of nightmares and physical pain, but with the corruption gone…

         Now that the corruption is gone, Faeya can rest in peace. For now.

         Thalon didn’t think that the woman was unaffected by all that death however, and he reminded himself that there was plenty of blood on his hands as well. He continued to look across at Faeya, smiling sadly.

         Our reasons may differ, but at the end of the day, we’re just a couple of murderer’s aren’t we? But even as the words crossed his mind, Thalon shook his head. No, he told himself, Our reasoning seperates us. Whenever possible, I choose to kill only those deserving of the Thundergod’s wrath, but you, Faeya. You kill without discrimination.

         To Thalon, that thought sounded surprisingly sour however, false.

         The prince had lived for nearly three decades now, and during that time he had ended countless lives. His convictions had shielded him from the brutality of war, his devotion to the Empire, and Thundell’s grand vision of peace had protected him from the horrors he had witnessed.

         Recently, Thalon’s convictions had begun to falter however.

         Although Thalon was a strong, grown man, his friend Gil, and even the prince’s own father, often referred to him as, “Boy.” He considered the two to be old men, and so he had brushed it off as old man talk, but he now realized that there was a grain of truth contained within that label. All of Thalon’s life, he had listened to his instructors and his elders, under the impression that such knowledge benefited him. But as the older generation forced their ideals upon him -twisting him into a formidable weapon for the Empire- he had questioned: Who was the true beneficiary here?

         Thalon had risked his life for the Empire without question, and had even come close to death several times, but he had brushed aside his doubts, convincing himself that the greater cause was worth it. Was it truly his cause though? Or had they simply told him that it was his cause? It was the only way he knew, and so he had gone along with it. Hundreds, maybe thousands of lives had been taken by the hands of the deadly Prince. As a tactician -and later on, a general- his orders had then lead to the deaths of millions.

         Each battle he won had brought him praise from his allies, fear from his enemies, and glory for the Empire. He had bit back his initial revulsion at taking the life of another living being, and eventually the death tolls meant nothing to him, they were merely numbers.

         The bloodshed you’ve caused, must be a mere droplet compared to the shower of death I’ve left in my wake, he thought as he looked at Faeya. Somehow, Thalon didn’t feel the full weight of that burden however. But if not I, then another in my place.

         As Thalon grew older, he had been granted more and more freedom, indulging himself in the nighttime delights of drink, and games, and women. All along the way however, he had never strayed beyond the path that had been layed out for him, never decided anything for himself, and so he had never matured in the way that he had hoped.

         A boy.

         He had wanted to change that however, he had wanted to strike out on his own, to make his own decisions, to find his own way. Leaving the army had been his first step towards those ends, but now he was tethered to Faeya.

         As Thalon gazed at the young woman, the thought didn’t displease him however.

         Thalon turned his gaze to the tarp he’d laid out the night before, noting that Faeya’s clothes were now dry. He lifted up her button shirt, and wasn’t surprised to note that it had stiffened overnight, and the pants were no different. With barely a thought, he tossed the disgusting, bloodied garments into the fire pit, and the embers caught them and set them ablaze. He then pulled out some of his own clothes from his pack, placing a purple silk shirt and dark blue pants on the tarp. Thalon knew that they wouldn’t quite fit Faeya, but at least they were clean.

         A short while later, Faeya awoke in the dim, pre-dawn light, watching as Thalon lazily poked at the small fire with a twig, staring intently at something smouldering in there.

         “Good morning Faeya,” Thalon said without turning, “Did you sleep well?”

         She stared at him a while longer, rubbing her eyes.

         “I slept just fine, thank you,” she finally replied. “What are you doing?”

         Thalon ignored Faeya’s question, nudging his head towards the clothes he’d layed out for her.

         “Put those on,” he said, “And then we should be on our way. I took a look at the map and we should reach a rest stop before noon.”

         Faeya stirred, and Thalon averted his gaze as she dressed.

         “Erm, thank you Thalon,” said Faeya after a moment.

         The prince turned around to see her rolling the pants up to her knees before slipping into her tall black boots.

         “Do they fit you well enough?” Thalon asked.

         “Yes, they’ll do for now, thanks again,” Faeya smiled appreciatively. “What did you do with my old clothes?”

         “I burned them,” Thalon stated simply.

         “What?” her eyes widened.

         “They were disguting,” he said, prodding the blackened remains of that clothing into the center of the fire.

         “I could have washed them!” she argued.

         “Not nearly well enough,” he countered.

         Faeya groaned at that. Thalon supposed that she did have more knowledge on the subject than he did, but it hardly mattered now.

         While Faeya glared at him, Thalon walked past her and rolled up the sleeping bag, placing it and his other things back into his pack. After a brief pause he handed Faeya her coat and slung his pack back around his shoulders, strapping his shield and sword in place as well.

         As Thalon readied himself, Faeya brushed the dirt off of her coat, making clear her displeasure at Thalon’s handling of the thing, then slipped her arms into it. She pulled out the book she’d purchased back at the Imperial Palace, “Inner Purity of The Heart,” flipping through it briefly, and then -content with the books condition- slipped it back into the inside pocket of her coat. She buttoned the black coat -only at the middle though- and flipped up the collar so that it stood up straight, reaching the bottom of her ears.

         “Alright, let’s go,” Faeya commanded. Thalon hastily snuffed out the fire as Faeya strode towards the road and then hurried after her.

         As they walked side by side, they turned to see a lone man riding up behind them on a grey horse. He called to the two, slowing down as he drew near.

         “Hey there!” he regarded them warily before continuing, “There’s trouble on the road, the patrols found a large group of fresh corpses out in the forest,” he pointed back north, “You’d best keep your wits about you.”

         “Thank you for the warning,” Thalon replied. The rider smiled, and pulled his horse around to move back up the road, but then he turned a suspicious eye on the two of them, noticing the magnificent hilt of the Sword of Thunder poking out from Thalon’s shoulder.

         “You two wouldn’t know anything about it would you?”

         Thalon reflexively turned to Faeya, but the woman was staring straight ahead,-an unreadable expression on her face- and she began walking away at a brisk pace.

         “No, we don’t know a thing,” Thalon said as he turned back to the rider.

         The rider nodded, and both men turned away from each other.

         Thalon ran down the road to catch up to Faeya, resting a hand on her shoulder as he drew up beside her.

         “Hey!” Thalon began, “You running off like that made us look awefully suspicious.”

         Faeya ignored him, staring straight ahead as she strode onwards, and Thalon dropped his hand from her shoulder.

         “Are you trying to leave me behind?” he asked, half-jokingly.

         “You weren’t my first choice you know,” Faeya said, and Thalon’s face fell.

         “Flattering.”

         Faeya did turn to him then, smiling.

         “No, I mean,” she slowed to a stop then, “I’ve tried to get other’s to help me, but you’re the strongest.”

         “You mean, I’m the only one that didn’t dessert you after meeting Mortia.”

         Faeya’s sheepish grin was all the confirmation he needed.

         As they continued walking, Thalon muttered under his breath.

         “Maybe I’m just as mad as you, crazy bitch.”

         Faeya heard the remark though, and jabbed Thalon in the ribs painfully. As the prince turned to her -wincing- he noticed that Faeya was smiling as she looked towards the road ahead. Thalon smiled as well, then followed Faeya’s gaze to the dirt trail that cut through the green fields around them. The path dipped out of sight at several points, only to reappear as it moved up and over a hill, continuing on in this manner as it stretched away to the foot of the mountains on the horizon.

         As the two of them walked side by side, the suns light finally broke over the horizon. That light blasted away the cold blue nighttime light, bathing the landscape in warmth. Thalon felt the warmth of the sun against his skin, and smelled the sweetness of the morning air. He cleared his mind of all thoughts then, clearing his mind of the ugliness of death, and embracing the beauty of that morning light. He looked to his left as the sun threw vibrant streaks of pink across the underside of the blue morning clouds. Although it was not an uncommon sight, rarely did Thalon take the time to appreciate it, and rarely could he witness it in all it’s glory, as he did now in the crisp, clean air.

         Thalon looked right, to Faeya, and she returned his gaze, smiling all the wider.

         He saw beauty there as well.

* * *