Chapter 11 #2
Elliot, on the other hand, had a small golden tent all to himself.
He was on the opposite side of camp, carefully isolated from me, and though we couldn’t talk, it gave me comfort just to see him.
He looked my way often; I couldn’t tell if he was crying because he hated me, because he loved me, or because he mourned for Mother and Father the way he would soon mourn for me.
I wandered to the edge of camp and slumped into the curve of an unearthed tree root. Silas, likely ordered to watch me lest I make a run for it, stepped away from the fire to join me.
“All the way over here by yourself?” he asked, kneeling next to me. His face, a deep, beautiful brown, was freshly scrubbed, and his eyes, typically gentle, were sharp despite his casual tone. “You need to sleep at some point, you know.”
Earlier, while the other legionnaires were occupied with setting up camp, Silas had tried to speak with me.
He wanted to shed light and optimism on Elliot’s future at Citadel Firstlight, but I was too uneasy to give him my full attention.
But now, in the lonely, lengthening shadows of twilight, I wanted to talk.
“I wasn’t about to escape, if that’s what you’re implying.” I raised my hands, still bound by rope. “Wouldn’t make it far, anyway.”
Bound hands made basic things difficult: walking, sitting, avoiding obstacles—but especially moving through a forest such as the Visstill.
I had learned that truth quickly when I went to relieve myself earlier, tripping over a branch but unable to catch my balance.
I didn’t have access to a mirror, but I was certain my face was scratched and my long hair messy.
Silas had been nearly smiling, but the expression slipped.
“You’re a perceived threat that we all witnessed.
We must remain cautious.” Silas took a swig from the flask at his feet, clearing his throat.
“Many of us have had Corruption in our own families,” he said, continuing.
“We’re familiar with it in ways I wouldn’t wish upon our worst enemies.
And we definitely have an enemy or two.” His warm smile was back, but it felt empty.
“Some legionnaires may hesitate to approach you, but it’s only because they’re afraid of what you might be. ”
At my silence, he faltered.
“There has never been a battle like the one last night.” He added, taking a second drink from his flask, “Last night changed everything. The Shadow Bringer isn’t supposed to be roaming dreams with someone like you by his side.”
Silas offered me his flask, holding it steady so that I could easily partake. It was filled with a warm, bubbling cider, and it instantly eased some of my tension. “Then everyone truly did see me in the dream?”
“It—yes. Yes, we could. Do you remember the smoke that came from the scepter Lord Mithras held?”
I nodded. It smelled delicious, like sweet autumn leaves and ancient secrets.
“It is a kind of sleeping mist. It gives us the ability to walk between reality and the Dream Realm, but it also works as a sedative. Lord Mithras was purifying the most severe Corrupt in the Realm when you emerged from the shadows with that monster.” He raised his face to the sky, closing his eyes.
“Mithras will likely seek you tonight in your dreams. He wishes to see where your soul wanders. If you are telling the truth, then perhaps there is still hope for you.”
I wasn’t sure why he was confiding in me like this. Perhaps it was because I was going to die soon. The dead were quite efficient at holding secrets. Mila joined us, red hair full and immaculate, and leaned against another upturned root. It was a massive thing, nearly reaching her shoulders.
“Silas, Esmer is probably starving. Did you think to bring her any food?”
“I’m not hungry,” I protested, but then, as if on cue, my stomach let out an unnatural growl.
When had I last eaten? Yesterday morning?
Mila rummaged through a pack at her side, fishing out a canteen, some bread, and a roasted duck leg wrapped in cloth. She handed them to me, giving me a sad half smile. “For our unexpected hostage.”
“Thank you,” I managed, taking a small bite of the duck leg. Fortunately, the rope was just loose enough that I could eat. “Please make sure my brother has food, too.”
Mila nodded solemnly. “Of course. Already done.”
She returned with more food and drink after making a stop by Elliot’s tent, her arms overwhelmed with a jug of steaming cider, two jars of smoked pine nuts, and bits of roasted poultry.
All from Norhavellis, I learned. Small tokens for their Light Bringer.
We ate hungrily, licking the salt from our fingers, and settled into a somewhat regular rhythm as Mila and Silas traded stories of their travels.
I eased into the conversation, thoughts of Corruption, death, and despair ebbing from my mind the longer we spent together, and I even managed a smile at one point.
A smile.
Guilt and grief churned in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if I deserved to smile.
As the fire burned low, the legionnaires began the whispers of a song, their voices growing louder and more haunting as it looped, repeating for a second time.
Suff’ring in the silver’d pool
Alongside his shadow’d ghosts
But darkness fell, devour’d them all
Beware, the Shadow Bringer comes
So burn the light brightly and
Sing the song boldly
For we fear not shadow nor the night
For beware, beware, beware, beware
Beware, the Shadow Bringer comes
The shadows, they drown him
The light doth surround him
Bound to his darkness evermore
So beware, beware, beware, beware
Beware, the Shadow Bringer comes
Beware, the Shadow Bringer comes
They moved into a few other songs, some spirited, some somber, but I kept thinking of the first. It made me feel uneasy, exposed. I didn’t like it at all.
As the legionnaires sang, distracted, Mila slipped me a vial of elixir. “I gave one to Elliot, too.”
“Thank you.”
I politely declined to share Mila’s tent with her and nestled back against my tree root.
We weren’t friends, I reminded myself. And it felt more comfortable, somehow, being in the open air.
The legionnaires were unbothered by my choice; several of them always stood guard along the camp perimeter, watching me and the woods for signs of anything unusual.
I arranged my rope-bound arms over my knees as best I could, trying to appear nonchalant and insignificant.
Between my connection to the Shadow Bringer and his demented world, my involvement in an entire village’s damnation, and my likelihood of rotting in an early grave, it was too much to handle, too much to comprehend.
And then there were my parents. My poor, poor parents. I buried my face into my cloak, sobbing quietly. Eventually I dozed off, lulled by wind threading through the branches above me.