The Shadow Tome (ch. 14)

Chapter Fourteen: The Fate of the Godless

Matthew awoke in his bed with a throbbing a headache, and burning in his lungs. He sat up in the cot, moaning and wheezing while he pressed his fingers strongly against the sides of his skull. He looked around the room and saw Becken and Leneia sleeping soundly together on the other side of the room. Romand and Mortimer were not among them, and the two women that had served him the night before were no where to be seen.

Matthew managed to stand up, with great difficulty, and staggered over to the table where a pitcher of water and a plate of bread had been placed. He stayed at the table for a time and ate, attempting to relieve the throbbing in his head.

"What happened ," he wondered, for he had no recollection of the night before.

A short time later, Becken and Leneia began to stir from their sleep, and they were soon awake. Matthew could not believe his eyes.

It was as if the last weeks had never occurred at all. Becken was almost boyish again after waking, and Leneia had returned to the same loving, happy women she had once been, before Sargoth had invaded their lives. "Had the Nyra’Val done all this?" he pondered to himself.

Leneia began to giggle girlishly as Becken chased after her, attempting to tickle her, and she dove back onto the bed, trying to hide under the sheets. Becken quickly dove after her, and wrapped her up in his arms. She giggled some more, and Matthew departed from the room and into the quiet tranquility of the catwalk.

It was bright in the forest, regardless of the mist, which seemed far lighter compared to the day before. Women, young and old were walking about, all dressed in the familiar silver garments he had become a custom too. They talked quietly among themselves, seemingly attempting to not disturb the quiet sanctuary of the forest. They simply smiled at him as they passed by, and Matthew nodded in acknowledgment, although his mind laid elsewhere.

He felt changed now, somehow different than he remembered. He grasped the elvynglass from beneath his shirt with a powerful, but cramping hand. It lay still and dull in his palm, and would not light. Sheela seemed more distant today, like some age old memory. No, a fairy tale.

"What is happening to me?" He screamed in his mind.

He went to find Awyendya.

He walked for a relatively short time before he found the women, sitting within one of the large tree structures talking with Romand Sohm. Mortimer sat beside her. Matthew approached them from the catwalks, still with a slight stagger to his step. His shoulder length hair was matted in disarray, and there were black shadows beneath his still slightly red eyes.

Mortimer nearly laughed as he approached. "My god man!" He exclaimed. "A little heavy on the drink last night, eh."

Matthew ignored his friends jest, looking straight at Awyendya. "I must speak with you, lady," he said, almost commanding it.

She did not ask why, and only nodded to Mortimer as she left the room with Matthew.

Once they had left the company of the others, Matthew spoke. "What is here that affects me so?" He asked.

Awyendya replied, "It is hard to say, for the mist behaves in ways we often cannot predict. What ails you now, I know not. Did you take part in the Nyra’Val last night?"

Matthew shook his head. "No".

"I see," was all she replied.

There was silence for a moment before she spoke again. "Your companions tell me that you travel into the eastern kingdoms."

He nodded.

"Once all is prepared, I will see you to the far edge of the forest, which borders the country of Morneia. From there, I hope you may find that which you seek."

She spoke with a sadness in her voice, that Matthew noticed, for he knew it well.

"You wish for him to stay with you," he stated.

There were tears in her eyes when she replied. "With all my heart".

Matthew paused for a moment before speaking again. "I will speak with him for you, and if he desires to stay, I will not hold that against him."

Her face remained stricken with sadness. "Thank you Matthew," she said softly. "But nay, he has already made his course clear to me, and he will not abandon you now."

She turned to leave, but Matthew called back to her. "My lady."

"Yes?"

"This I do promise, and it is that one day, there will no longer be a need for our bereavements. I will try and bring him back to you."

She simply nodded, and continued back to where Mortimer and Romand sat waiting.

The rest of the morning was spent preparing for their departure. Awyendya and her people gathered whatever they could that would be of use to Matthew and his companions in their journey. As supplies were being gathered, Matthew caught sight of one of the women that had served him the previous night. She smiled at him brightly as she walked by, regardless of the hideous black bruises that dotted her neck. He said nothing to her and just watched as she continued on down the catwalk. He felt strangely odd then, and his lungs tightened slightly within his chest. After a moment, he was fine, although he wondered what had happened to the girl.

By midday, Awyendya led them back down from the catwalks, to where their horses still remained tethered. Upon gathering the horses, Awyendya led them east through the forest. The lessening of the fog now showed them how breathtaking the place really was. The maze of catwalks spread out across the forest canopy as far as they could see, and they could still hear the same song that they had heard when they arrived, being sung through the trees.

It was near nightfall when they finally emerged from the mist covered trees and onto a grassy hillside.

Awyendya addressed them one last time. "I am glad of our meeting," she said, more to Mortimer then to anyone else. She then gestured to the hillside. "Over these hills you will find the kingdom of Morneia. I do not know where this man you seek dwells, but perhaps the people there may help you. Take care my friends, and may life’s blessings fall generously upon you."

They said good bye to her, and then turned towards the east and began to ascend the hill; all except for Mortimer, who stayed behind a moment longer with her, before joining the others.

They reached the top of the hill and looked out over a stunning landscape. A lush, green valley sprawled out before them, flanked by beautiful, snow capped mountains. A graceful river ran down the middle of the valley and deposited into a huge lake, bordered with fine sand beaches. The fading orange sun reflected off the gentle waters of the east. It felt almost like home again for the five companions; a time long before darkness controlled their lives.

At the river’s inlet they could see smoke rising into the air from stone chimneys. The town lay at the waters edge, where the river and lake met. It was not walled so the houses and shops spread out across the coast and into the plains around it, with dirt roads running between the structures.

Matthew spoke to the others. "We will acquire lodgings for the night, and perhaps information regarding the whereabouts of the son of Annias." They agreed, and rode down from the hilltop and towards the town. Upon reaching the village, they tethered their mounts at a stable on the town outskirt’s.

Darkness had fallen over the valley as they walked the irregular dirt roads of the place, reading the signs of each establishment in hopes of discovering an inn to acquire quarters. The roads were nearly void of people, given the time of day, and the only attention they received was from drunken beggars and a few grimy women. The women were dressed in tight fitting corsets and knee lengths skirts, and wore their hair in disheveled curls. They seemed mostly interested in Matthew and Becken, but were encouraged to go elsewhere by a murderous glare from Leneia. Finally, they arrived under a sign that read, "The Horse Shoe Inn".

They entered into a dreary, poorly lit room. Crude tables and chairs were positioned throughout the tavern in a haphazard fashion, and on each table sat a dim lantern. The room was mostly unoccupied, except for the innkeeper, who stood behind a counter at the back of the room, a small band of villainous looking men who were dressed in dirty, worn clothes. They were accompanied by several women, which wore the same tight corsets and curled hair as they had seen in front of the inn. Upon Leneia’s entering the room, their attention was turned from their escorts, to the beautiful north land woman before them. Matthew nearly grinned as he saw Becken briefly expose the blade of his sword that had been beneath his cloak; a gesture that quickly turned the men’s attention elsewhere.

All except for one, who had never stopped staring at the shard of broken glass hanging from Matthew neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Matthew caught the man’s stare, but did nothing to indicate it, other then brush the pommel of his sword with his hand.

"Can help you, good sirs," spoke the rough voice of the inn keeper; a fat man with a poorly trimmed beared.

Romand answered. "We need lodgings for the night. Have you suitable accommodations?"

The innkeeper looked them all over quickly with his eyes before responding. "I have. Upstairs at the end of the hall. Ceranda will show you there." He turned his head back behind the counter to a staircase that led down into the cellar. "Ceranda! Get up here!"

He turned back to Romand. "It will be five pieces of silver for the night," he stated to them.

Romand frowned, but Matthew silently insisted to the old cleric to not make an argument about it. Taking a small, cloth sack from beneath his robes, Romand fingered through the bag until he had found the coins. He then drew out five worn silver pieces and presented them to the innkeeper, who, seeming satisfied, took the money and deposited the coins in a sack at his belt.

A moment later, the stomping of feet was heard from the stairs as the young girl climbed them and entered the room.

The girl was far younger then Matthew or his companions and looked only fifteen years of age at most. She had short, messy black hair that hung over her dirt smudged face, and she wore a simple brown dress and apron.

"Yes Gorben?" She asked the man, in a soft voice.

"Show these gentlemen to the back room upstairs. And those men in the back need more ale."

She paused for a moment, and Gorben became impatient. "Well go on girl, be quick about it."

She nodded, and after drawing a ring of keys from under the counter, she led them upstairs, and down a plainly decorated hall, that was flanked by doors every so often on either side. From one of the rooms, the loud sound of a woman moaning could be heard from behind the door, as well as the thudding of wooden furniture. The girl Ceranda seemed undistracted from the commotion, and beckoned them to the door at the end of the hall. She fumbled with the heavy ring of iron keys for a moment, before deciding on one, which she then slid into the slot in the door.

Upon opening the door, she let them in, and after giving Matthew the key, departed quickly back down the hallway.

"She is much to young to be living in this," Leneia spoke as they unpacked their things. They all agreed, saddened by the appearance of the poor girl. They then turned their attention to their lodgings.

The room was plain and poorly lit, with creaky floor boards and paneled siding. There was four beds against the walls, which were covered in old, musty, white sheets, and a crooked table with a lantern sat in the middle along with three uneven chairs. A single window in the back wall looked out over the town.

Mortimer looked around in near amusement. "Four beds and three chairs?" He stated incredulously. The others laughed in mild amusement, except for Leneia who still dwelled on Ceranda.

After they had settled their belongings, Matthew and Becken returned to the tavern, hoping to discover some information that would lead them to Cam. They entered into boisterous, drunken laughter.
"Where ya goin n sutch a hurry, prity girl," spoke a dirty man with yellow teeth.
The girl Ceranda was serving tankards of ale to the band of men at the back of the tavern, and Matthew and Becken sat at a table a ways off from them.
"Really lass, whatchyou doin werkin fo’ old Gorben, eh?
Another man shouted. "Cuz er fatha’s ded and er motha’s a whore!" The men roared in drunken laughter, but Ceranda only stared at the wall seemingly not hearing their words.
Matthew saw Becken’s hands clench into fists as they watched the spectacle before them.
"Come ere, m’little bitch. Let ol’ Tobar show you whatchyou bin missin." The dirty man grabbed the girl by the wrist, and pulled her close to him. He grinned wickedly at her, showing a mouthful of rotting, yellow teeth. "Yea, I betchyou wud like that, wouldn’tchyou, little bitch," he spat, pressing her hand against the crotch of his pants. Ceranda stayed quiet throughout it all, but a single, silent tear rolled down her young, smudged face.
Matthew looked back towards the counter at Gorben, who seemed unconcerned with the scene, far to immersed in his task of counting silver coins.
There was a loud shuffling of wood suddenly as the man, Tobar, stood up from his chair and forced Ceranda onto the table with two drunken arms. The girl began to struggle against him as he pressed her upper body against the flat of the table and began taking off his pants.
Becken moved before Matthew could stop him. With one strong arm, Becken grasped the chair beside him and flung it through the air with impossible force, knocking Tobar to the floor as wood splinters sprayed threw the air. Instantly Ceranda was gone, running across the room and into the cellar.
The drunken men were now on their feet in a near rage, armed with short swords and daggers, and their female escorts had backed off against the wall. Matthew could count six of them now, each as drunk and wicked as the next. There was a seventh man among them who remained in his seat, and just stared at the shard of glass that still dangled from Matthew’s neck.
Tobar spat, "Betchya think yar heroaric, eh!"
"More than some," Becken retorted. Tobar laughed. "Come on boyz! Lez sho this fool ‘ow heyoism is rewoaded ere!" Brandishing their weapons, the six drunken men began to step forward towards Matthew and Becken.

"Enough of this!" Roared Gorben, who had now reappeared in the room. "Tobar, I warned you not to make trouble in my place. Now get out. Get out I say! You’ll not be troublin’ these gentlemen no more."

Tobar did not move at first, being unsure as to whether he would listen to the innkeeper. Eventually, the drunkards began to clear out of the tavern, and Matthew watched the seventh man closely as he left. The man had his eyes on the elvynglass throughout his whole departure.

When they had gone, Gorben addressed Matthew. "I’m sorry ‘bout that lot sir. Bunch of worthless ruffians. If it weren’t for them practically keepin’ me in business id’e throw em out for good."

Becken responded. "So tell me, master Gorben. Do you always allow that kind of torment of Ceranda?"

The man looked embarrassed at the question. He stuttered as he tried to respond. "I, can assure you, I would never..."

"You lie!"

"Becken be silent!" Matthew roared at the other. Becken glared a moment longer at Gorben, who’s face had turned red. He then left the room and headed up the stairs.

When Becken was gone, Matthew addressed Gorben. "I am sorry for my friend. He has a temper at times."

"That is alright, sir," the other responded. "And now however, I must wish you a good night."

Matthew nodded in acknowledgment, and then turned to leave up the stairs.

"And sir," Gorben added. Matthew turned to face him. "Tobar may not forget this night easily. I would be careful, if I were you, as long as you stay here."

Matthew paused for a moment before responding. "Thank you for the warning Gorben. Good night." He then turned back to the stairs and left the room.

* * * * *

Matthew slept lightly that night, with one hand resting on a dagger beneath his pillow.

It was shortly before daybreak when the soft creaking of the floor awoke him from his sleep. Opening one eye, he looked over to the door and saw the faint flicker of a lantern through the opening beneath it. Matthew clenched the dagger tightly in his fist as he heard the grinding of iron in the keyhole. Slowly, the door swung open, and the floor began to creak again as the intruder approached. Matthew closed his eyes, and prepared to strike.

"You are not safe here," spoke the quiet voice of Ceranda behind the flicker of the lantern.

Matthew opened his eyelids to see the young girls face.

"Tobar is coming. He wants you dead," she stated.

Suddenly they could here the shuffling of feet from beyond the hall. Instantly Matthew jumped out of his bed, still grasping the dagger in his hand. The others awoke at the noise.

"What in heaven’s name," Romand groaned sleepily.

"We must leave, now," barked Matthew. The shuffling outside was growing louder, and they could now hear voices to accompany them.

"Ceranda, quickly, lock the door." The young girl hastily ran over to it, and after swinging the door shut, turned the bolt to lock it.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Becken asked.

"I say we cut our way out!" Mortimer barked as he picked up his axe that had been resting in the corner.

"No," Matthew retorted. "These men are not our enemies. There is no sense in dying here." He desperately looked around the room then, searching for a means of escape. Finally, his eyes rested upon the window at the back wall. "There. That’s the only way. Becken, quickly. There should be a rope in one of our packs."

With haste, Becken tore open the sack and sifted through its contents before finally coming upon a long, brown rope that had been wrapped up among the other supplies. Without need of instruction, he headed for the window, unraveling the chord as he went.

There was a crash at the door, and the walls of the room shook as the drunken men from the tavern tried to break the door down. Instantly, Matthew reached under his bed, to where he had laid his sword. Grasping the blade in both hands, he turned to face the door.

"Take me with you," The girl pleaded to him

Matthew could see tears in her eyes again. He wondered to himself, how many times the events of the previous evening had occurred in her brief life.

"It is dangerous, where we go," he responded.

"I am not afraid," she said. "It can be no more dangerous for me, than it is here."

Matthew nodded solemnly, and gestured towards the now open window. "I will follow after you," he said.

"Open this door, cowards!" Roared the voice of Tobar from the hallway. There was another crash, and the hinges of the door began to loosen.

With the rope finally tied securely in place, Becken and Leneia began to descend towards the dark, empty roads of the town. Romand followed soon after, as the walls of the room rattled.

You next, my friend," Matthew said, looking at Mortimer. The other tried to protest, but Matthew silenced him, and Mortimer stepped over the ledge of the window, and disappeared along the side of the inn.

Suddenly, broken wood and dust sprayed into the air as the door came crashing down into the room, and the men tore clumsily into the open space. Now brandishing swords and maces, they rushed at Matthew.

Ceranda shrieked as the sharp clang of steel reverberated through the room.

"Get out of here, now!" He cried to her, as two men swung at him. The girl ran over to the window ledge, and descended down the rope.

Matthew barreled into his attackers, knocking three of them over. Wrenching free one of the men’s blades from their fingers, Matthew fought Tobar and the other two men, parrying their blows..

With two hands grasping his sword, Tobar swung hard at Matthews head. Matthew reeled backwards, avoiding the strike, which sent the man careening into the table that the lantern still sat on. The light smashed against the floor, spraying burning oil across the floor and wall. The dry wood of the inn immedietly caught fire, and the room began to fill with smoke as the fire spread up towards the ceiling.

A man cried out in agony as Matthew drove the length of the blade in his right hand through the mans chest. The others charged on heedlessly as the lifeless body fell to the floor. Sweat poured down their faces as they continued their battle, and the fire kept creeping across the room, slowly beginning to engulf the doorway. Matthew cut another man down, spraying blood into the fire which began to sizzle when it struck the wood.

Finally, they retreated out through the doorway, just before the cross beams above it gave way, sealing the room and sending sparks and more smoke into the air.

Matthew backed towards the window. The room was almost entirely in flames now, and it was spreading across to the rest of the building. Quickly, he stepped over the ledge, and grasping the length of rope, slid down towards the road below.

The others stood waiting near the stables for him, and they breathed a sigh of relief when they saw him appear around the corner. Ceranda was still with them as well, and she smiled at him.

As they gathered their horses, Matthew looked back at the burning inn behind them. There were men now swarming about the town in havoc. Some were carrying buckets of water in an attempt to control the fire, while others stood by and watched in a sleepy haze.

"So this is the fate of the godless," spoke Romand quietly, watching the scene before them.

Matthew did not respond to the old clerics words, for he knew it wasn’t the time.

"Oh, I think you will find that there is still some good left in the east," spoke a strong voice from behind them.

Instantly, Matthew spun around to face the man who had watched him in the tavern. His sword still dripped blood as he held it firmly before him. "Who are you!" Matthew demanded.

Stepping forward, the man answered. "My name is Cam, and I believe you have been looking for me."

There, among the flames, they stood face to face with the son of Annias.