Eyes of Mist

5 - Dark Journey

Ayala had lost all sense of time. Had they been going for minutes, hours, days? It seemed like an eternity.

She considered switching her bundle from her left to the right but she had already strained her right arm when she had tried clearing the entrance and she feared the wound might open after all. She blinked tiredly and almost walked into the wall that had risen suddenly in front of her. Stumbling she came to a halt.

The Shakaree – Jorcan she reminded herself – stepped up next to her and into the light of the torch. She realized that this was not a wall, but a massive stone gate. Hesitantly she put her bundle down, placed both hands on the gate, drew in a deep breath and pushed.

With just a sliver of resistance the gate swung open and Ayala staggered just barely managed to regain her footing but behind her she heard Jorcan give an amused snort. Trying to conceal her embarrassment she reached for her bundle. As she looked down she gave a start.

On the other side of the gate two lifeless bodies lay on the ground. Although some gray shreds still covered the bones, they weren't much more than skeletons. One of them had been pushed aside by the opening of the gate but its position made it obvious that whoever this once was had tried to open the gate even as death was upon him.

Jorcan lowered himself to one knee and held his torch closer to their findings but Ayala didn't dare to watch. Shivering she backed up towards the wall.

"Hard to say how long they've been dead," Jorcan remarked dryly. "I can't even see if they were your people or mine. But I assume it's been a while, so stop shaking."

The Falamar swallowed nervously and held her bundle close to her as if she could hide behind it. She noticed a black hole that gaped in the wall on the opposing side. Jorcan followed her terrified gaze and approached the passage with his torch. "Looks like a room for the guards," he observed.

Ayala slowly went over to him. He was right, what had scared her was nothing more than a small chamber with two simple beds and a rack. It had piqued her curiosity. She stepped towards one of the beds and ran her fingers over it. Due to the dry air the wood didn't rot but had turned hard as stone. Yet the fabric that was stretched over the frame was so brittle it almost dissolved under her touch.

"Make a fire!" Jorcan commanded. "We'll stay here for now."

For a moment she was surprised that he didn't insist on going on but then she realized that he had to be in a state that required a rest as well. Besides it was impossible to say if they'd find another place that was relatively shielded. She glanced back at the entrance, the bodies were still very unnerving.

Eventually, the fire was lit in the back part of the guard room next to a narrow air vent. By now she was so anxious she couldn't look away from the passage to the hallway. Finally her dread surpassed her fear of the Shakaree and she heard herself whisper, "They look as if they wanted to get through the gate but didn't make it. But why? It was easy to open."

Jorcan glanced at her. "Maybe something blocked the gateway back then and it has been removed since."

Of course, that was possible, but... She shivered again and scooted closer to the fire.

"Are you afraid of the dead, Falamar?"

She blinked uneasily, not sure how to answer.

Jorcan snorted. "In my experience the living are much more worth worrying about."

'Especially living Shakaree' she gave back in her mind but swallowed the retort before it could escape her lips.

Hesitantly she reached for her bundle and helped herself to a bit of food. When he didn't have the slightest reaction she sated her hunger.

Still the Shakaree didn't make a move to eat something himself. He just sat there and watched her with a strange look in his eyes. "Sleep now!" he ordered her at last. "Hopefully we'll cover a bit more ground tomorrow."

She obeyed in silence. She pulled her blanket over her, trying to find a somewhat comfortable position on the hard floor. It didn't take her long to fall asleep.

*****

Jorcan waited until he was sure the Falamar really was asleep, only then did he reach for the provisions himself. He pulled down his mask. In spite of his hunger he forced himself to eat slowly and ration his food.

Chewing he watched the girl's motionless form. She had turned away from him so he couldn't see her face any more. He was almost grateful for it. It made him uncomfortable to see her uncovered visage. It had been ingrained into him how inappropriate, and even obscene, it was to not wear a mask in someone else's presence.

Most of the time he avoided looking directly at the Falamar but from time to time his eyes strayed towards her. Her appearance caused a turmoil of feelings he couldn't decipher. When she was eating and his curiosity made him risk another look, he had been careful to concentrate on her eyes as he'd do with another Shakaree. And suddenly he had realized what had been causing this turmoil.

The dark eyes in her uncovered face were so similar to those of Isha that just thinking about it hurt. No, he mustn't think of Isha. Especially not here when his survival depended on being level headed

The Falamar wasn't Isha. She was an enemy and he'd do well not to forget that.

He swallowed his last bite and pulled his mask back up. Then he wrapped himself in a blanket and half sitting leaned against the wall. He watched the girl for a moment longer, then he put his hand on the pommel of the sword at his hip and closed his eyes.

*****

Tamaril looked down at his hand and tried to keep his fingers from clenching painfully around the quill's shaft. Helpless anger burned in him.

Anger for the Shakaree who so coldly looked down on someone who was so much better than him. Anger that a murderer held his friend in his power. Yes, she was his friend. Even if she didn't know him, he felt enough of a bond for both of them. And he'd find a way to save her.

No matter the cost he couldn't allow the Shakaree to get away with this.

It had taken his discomfort to a new level when the prince passed the gate. He had felt his stomach clench as if he had allowed an intruder to desecrate grounds that should have been hidden from him.

He knew that there was something he had to remember if he ever wanted to understand what made him hate so much. But every time he tried to retrace the being he once was in his mind, a part of him resisted so vehemently, that he feared this knowledge would be more painful than any ignorance could ever be.

Nevertheless he was sure his time would come. And then he'd take revenge for all the pain inflicted on him.

*****

Jorcan placed one heavy foot in front of the other. He wondered when he'd stop thinking of the passing time as days. Had it really been just three days since they went on their way or was it longer? And how was he to know if what he called "day" really corresponded with the rhythm of sunrise and sunset?

Tiredly he rubbed his burning eyes. Hopefully they'd find another guard chamber soon and have the chance to rest. After their first night in one of these rooms, they had found similar chambers in regular intervals. But in none of them had they found something helpful and no map had survived the passage of time.

When they had reached the first side tunnel he had been almost enthusiastic but after about an hour of walking the way angled down and ended in a deep waterhole. Jorcan had doubled back wordlessly but inside he had burned with anger. It seemed as if the entire world had decided to make him even more miserable.

One day later a second side tunnel proved to be another regrettable detour.

When hunger plagued him too much, they occasionally stopped in the hallway but every time the Shakaree waited until the girl had fallen asleep before eating himself. At first the Falamar had seemed surprised that she was told to rest so often but soon she just accepted it without a second thought. He wasn't sure if she had noticed how every time she slept a few of the provisions disappeared or perhaps she was simply grateful for so many chances to sleep.

He had to admit those breaks were good for him as well. His ribs that had made him want to groan with every step on the first day, didn't give him much grief anymore. Though it would still take a while until all the bruises those stones and lumps of dirt had caused were healed, he hadn't lost all that much blood and none of his wounds had reopened. At least as a healer the Falamar actually seemed talented.

He squinted, trying to focus, and gave a sigh of relief when a darker shadow on the cave wall appeared and he realized they had made it to next chamber.

Jorcan made the Falamar light a fire and looked around the room but his already low hopes for a hint on how to proceed were not fulfilled.

As always he allowed her to help herself to some food and settled down at the opposing wall. In spite of himself his gaze wandered to her face. He scolded himself mentally and tried concentrating on something else. He reached for the bag with her provisions and had a look at its content.

"What is that?"

The Falamar looked up in surprise and considered the fruit he was holding. "That is a Trarta," she replied emotionlessly.

"Hm," Jorcan gave back. "Does it grow in the mountains only? In your storehouses north of the Armasin? I have never seen anything like it."

The girl swallowed visibly, then she pressed her lips together until they looked like a thin line. "Considering all the blood marring the plunder you stuff into yourselves, I'd have hoped it would have stuck in your throat," she hissed in such a low voice he almost didn't hear it.

Jorcan clenched his fists and saw her blanch when she realized what had slipped from her mouth. A part of him wanted to strangle her for her insolence but the unexpected need to justify himself was stronger. "The people of Falamar – self-righteous as usual," he growled back full of hatred. "Strange that it never comes to your minds we would starve if we didn't take these supplies."

That made the Falamar blink.

"But you could grow your own food," she retorted carefully.

"In the swamps there isn't much to grow."

"But if that was all this is about, there would never have to be a war. We have so much space that it would have been possible to give you enough land to plant crops and to live on.

"Of course, Falamar," he gave back, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Your people would have been thrilled to share half their kingdom out of sheer friendliness." He stopped and when he continued his eyes were gleaming with anger. "Tell me, do you actually believe what you say? Do you think the world is as simple as that? Are you so sure your people, bursting with gloriousness, are free of any egoism and errors?"

The girl shrank back a bit. Then she continued timidly: "But if this is all about food then it must be possible to end this war. Our nations just have to sit together and talk it out."

Jorcan stared at her for a moment, completely unbelieving, then he leaned back and let out a hearty laugh. "Falamar, really, your naivety is refreshing. This war is now waging for half an eternity and caused more casualties on our side than I even dare to guess. I don't know if your sovereign can easily forget those lives lost but our king surely won't show so much weakness and my people won't forget the blood that has already been shed for our victory." He kept watching her, still smiling under his mask but she stared at him in horror with those wide dark eyes. Suddenly he fell silent. He tried swallowing the lump in his throat and before the thought really registered words escaped his lips. "You almost remind me of Isha."

"Isha? Who is that?"

He wanted to curse himself for his slip of tongue but he could take the words back and he wasn't about to disown Isha. "A girl from Rahnshir," he said in a low voice.

"Tell me of her," the Falamar begged whispering.

"Why?"

"I want to know how a Shakaree can be like a Falamar."

For a moment he considered simply refusing but the more he thought about it the more Isha's tale seemed the way to meet the Falamar's accusations.

"She was the daughter of a renian, an elite fighter, and so she was trained to become one herself. She was very talented, agile and strong. I barely knew her father but I heard he was hardly loved at court. He was a loner, always bent on swimming against the current.. Isha was contrary to him a bundle of energy who wanted to come along all the time. In that respect she didn't have much in common with you, Falamar." He sent a mocking glance Ayala's way but she didn't seem to notice.

"Isha was barely younger than me and when I was a child she was sent to train alongside me. I think my father had his fingers in that too. Otherwise she surely wouldn't have had associated with me. But I think he owed her mother." To be honest he had been quite aware what his father's relationship with Lady Narash was. Even before he had been old enough to understand the details his ever open ears had picked up on all the gossip about the King's affairs. But that really wasn't something the Falamar needed to know.

"Isha grew up with me," Jorcan continued, "but she was always changing her mind so quickly that I sometimes thought I didn't know her at all. Both of us had already had some fighting experience from several missions but when I was fifteen and she almost fourteen we were sent on our first common mission. We were to spy out a camp of the Falamar who had ventured quite far into our swamp. The evening before she came to me and told me of an idea that was so absurd that I couldn't even imagine she might be serious. She often had strange ideas." He smiled without joy. "She said we should try to negotiate with the Falamar. That they had to be as fed up with this war as we were. I laughed and wished her good luck. I didn't know she would really do it.

"The next dawn we set off. We were only to find out how many soldiers were approximately stationed in that camp and if there were any weaknesses. I supervised the mission. The fog was dense and it was no problem to get close to the camp, especially since the Falamar were so inexperienced on our terrain. I saw Isha sneak past one of the guards but the fool didn't even take note of her in her cowl. Then the guard suddenly made a step forward and slid into one of the waterholes. He was a young guy still wearing a family heirloom – one of these ancient armors that by today even the Falamar warriors got rid of. The heavy thing pulled him down even faster and would have made him drown before one of his comrades even dared to venture out into the fog. But the bastard screamed pitifully and Isha came. I still don't know what she was thinking but she whirled on her heel, dropped on her stomach, got hold of the Falamar's collar and pulled him out of the water. Pretty alarmed I ran towards her and saw her talking to the Falamar. Then she suddenly took her sword from her belt and handed it over to him. I stopped in my tracks, thinking of the previous evening. I thought if she might be able to get into contact with the Falamar then her strange peace talk might work out well after all. So I stayed where I was to not mess it up."

Jorcan closed his eyes and in his mind he could still see the scene play out. "The Falamar soldier drew her sword and rammed it into her belly. I believe I screamed but that meant nothing anymore anyway. When I reached her the bastard had already gotten away and I couldn't do anything for Isha. He didn't even kill her cleanly. She miserably died in my arms. I never forgot about that nor did I forget that soldier. Should I ever find his face again somewhere I'll make sure that he begs me to kill him before I finish him off." Jorcan opened his eyes again and the Falamar shrank back from him.

"So don't tell me we just have to sit together and talk it out and suddenly everything would be alright," he hissed coldly.

With that he got up and settled down a few steps away where he stared gloomily into the darkness. When he looked back at the Falamar a while later, she had curled up on the hard ground and had fallen asleep.

*****

It was dark when she awoke. The fire had burned down and the embers provided a gloomy red shimmer. Ayala didn't move although she felt chilly again. She only stared into the darkness and listened to the near sounds. They were very low but in the absolute silence of the cave around her, Ayala couldn't help but listen intently. It sounded as if someone or something was moving silently and swallowing from time to time.

Ayala turned her head, barely noticeable, and recognized Jorcan's silhouette on the other side of the fire. He didn't look over to her but she could make out that he had pulled down the mask and was shoving down his ration. She suppressed a smile and tried to see more. Something about his profile was strange.

Maybe her movement had made him notice her, maybe it was something else. But regardless, he looked over at her. Ayala caught her breath and for an agonizing long moment they stared at each other equally shocked.

The Falamar girl had never seen a face like this. It was as if his features were made of wax that had been too close to a fire. They were distorted and seemed to form blisters. Where his nose should have been only a stump remained as if his features flowed over it when they melted away.

Ayala closed her eyes and wished nothing more than just to wake up and realize that this was nothing but a bad dream and Jorcan was sitting next to her as usual. Or still better that she was home again with everything as it used to be. Tears poured from beneath her lids and although she fought against it she started to weep. She cried herself hoarse and hated herself for being so weak and dumb. She heard nothing from Jorcan and felt almost something like gratitude. When she finally fell asleep again her face was so tightened and distorted that it looked close to a shadow of what she had seen.

*****

Jorcan knelt next to the Falamar, clinging to the dagger in his clenched hand, the mask back in front of his face. His breath came in gasps and his heart was still racing. Since earliest childhood it had been drummed into his head to never show himself without his mask though he didn't understand the reason at first. Once he had caught Isha without her mask and backed off, ashamed without even knowing why. After all every Shakaree had features similar to his.

Yet when the Falamar had looked at him he had frozen in horror. If she had screamed he wouldn't have known how he might have reacted. He still felt hatred pulsating in his veins as the humiliation kept him from putting the dagger away.

Finally he managed to push himself away from her and crawl to the opposite wall. The cold stone in his back felt good, steady and calming. He caressed it with his hand and allowed himself to close his burning eyes.

She was asleep now. She was asleep and she didn't scream when she saw him, he assured himself. Slowly he put the dagger back into its sheath and pressed his hands against his knees. His fingers buried into the fabric and his head sank forward.

Why didn't you slay her?

'She didn't scream', he repeated in his mind as if this was a mantra that could make everything alright again.

She cried.

That wasn't the same. She was a member of a weak people, so it was no surprise she burst into tears. That wasn't reason enough to kill her.

At least not here and now.

*****

Tamaril was shaking with suppressed hatred. He knew it! He had always guessed that the Shakaree were nothing but ugly beasts. 'He almost killed her!' his mind kept screaming. 'He wanted to kill her!'

The white haired youth stepped back from the book and clenched his fists. There was more to it, more than his anger over Jorcan, who was sitting with a drawn dagger next to a girl who shouldn't be with him. A deep, almost irrational hatred was rising within Tamaril, a feeling that he could hardly comprehend himself but that he sensed to have roots that went so much deeper.

With a small sigh he forced himself to breathe easier.

'She will flee now,' he told himself to calm down. 'She will take the first chance she gets to flee from that monster.'

And if there were none? Tamaril's eyes wandered to the quill in his hand. Maybe it was time that he took influence on the story. A thin smile appeared on his pale lips. An idea was forming in Tamaril's thoughts.

*****

She hadn't said a word about last night.

Jorcan pulled himself up silently and fixed the strap of his bundle. The Falamar passed by him and picked up one of their torches that she carefully lit with a bit of flint before extinguishing the remains of their camp fire. Then she looked up to him and gave him a shaky smile.

Jorcan almost stumbled with surprise. He didn't know what he had expected but this surely wasn't it. Why was she smiling? She had never smiled at him before.

As if she wasn't noticing his confusion – she probably wasn't, Jorcan mused dryly – the Falamar stepped up to him and started to nervously play with a strand of hair. "I just…" she began hesitating, "I just wanted to apologize." And with that she abruptly turned around and walked over to her own bundle.

Stunned he looked after her. Part of him was strangely touched, wanted to follow her, show her he forgave her for looking at his face. But then he realized he was thinking of Isha again.

He clenched his teeth. 'She is not Isha!' he reminded himself. 'Even if she shows respect for our customs, even if she might help me willingly, it won't make her one of us. She is no Shakaree and never will be!'

He struggled to swallow the chaos he was feeling and shoved the Falamar with her own bundle in front of him down the hallway. "You go first," he said trying and not quite succeeding to sound confident.

The Falamar glanced at him adjusted her bundle and started walking.

*****

Ayala's feet hurt terribly. They had been walking for what seemed to her like hours and the hard rock under her feet turned every step into agony.

But that wasn't what made her stop abruptly. A good way down the hallway she could see a faint light. She felt Jorcan's chilly touch on her shoulder and could barely keep from wincing.

"Doesn't look like a fire," he hissed in a low voice.

"Maybe we found an exit," she said hopefully but when she looked back at him she saw that his eyes were narrowed with suspicion.

Warily they went on. Suddenly the cave's roof retreated into darkness and they found themselves in a large cavern. In front of them, on the hall's opposite wall, there were two stones cut like gems that emitted a pale glow. Yet the moment they stepped out of the hallway into the cavern they flared with blue fire as if greeting them. Now they could discern between those two light sources the outline of an ornate gate.

Impressed Ayala turned around to her companion but in his eyes she saw nothing but fear. One of his hands clasped something at his neck, an amulet she guessed, and through his fingers a faint blue light like that of the stones emerged.

"What-," she started but the Shakaree didn't give her time to finish. As if awaking from a trance he blinked several times, then he grabbed her and shoved her behind him while hurriedly drawing his sword.

"Run!"

Ayala staggered back a few steps before she realized that Jorcan had again taken the torch from her. She looked back to him but when she saw one of the shadows next to the gate come alive she wished she hadn't.