Chapter 11
Zechariah healed well over the next few days, though he couldn't help but feel terribly useless as he sat and watched everyone else struggle to haul their wares over the narrow bridges of the fissures. They constantly had to journey further into the Barrens to reach the narrower parts of the fissures in order to find a bridge long enough to span it. Heaving and pulling on ropes and reigns all the while he sat idly by. The loss of five men greatly hurt their labor, and though they didn't know if it did any good or not, they cut the corpses off each day. By the fourth day they were glad to be rid of the last corpse as it was smelling very ripe. Every evening and every dawn, every member of the caravan was required to strip down and be inspected as a precautionary measure. Even Zechariah with his shoulder wound was requested to join in, and he did so willingly seeing the pragmatic necessity for such precautions. It may be uncomfortable, but surely a bit of discomfort was worth everyone's safety.
Though his wound had largely stopped bleeding, it was still producing a fair amount of puss and Nawfa insisted on changing his bandages and keeping the wound clean. He wasn't sure why she was adamant on being his physician, though he certainly didn't mind...much. Since his rejection of her she had kept her flirtation to a minimum, in an attempt to respect his wishes. However, flirtation was her nature and she couldn't help but place a hand here, laugh a little too lightly there and let slip the occasional innuendo. Though the moments were brief together, Zechariah found himself looking forward to her care and the brief moments of levity they shared together. As he had become more accustomed to her ways and she less predatory, they found that they quite enjoyed each other's company and had begun to tell each other stories of latter days. Days that didn't include a tense run from a hunting Jundar, and their levity was contagious. As they laughed they brought others to listen, first by one riding along the wagon, then by two, eventually some riding in the wagon with Zechariah whenever Nawfa was around. Although he enjoyed the company, he was both perturbed by their interruption with his time with Nawfa, and also by the fact that they left when she did, making it bountifully clear that they were not there for his levity or company, but Nawfa's.
There was a portion of his inner thoughts which began to hate Nawfa for that, to resent the ease with which she commanded other's attention, and the way others engaged in her flirtations. But he quashed that voice and smothered it deep within. It was a voice he didn't like, one that spoke of loneliness and isolation that he had felt in Hyran. The voice that always said, "Even Amir doesn't like you, and only thinks you a burden." He had to keep that voice at bay. He couldn't let it find purchase.
November 24th
He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he struggled with his inner thoughts. He gazed up at the wagon's cover and took several deep breaths, relaxing his body and his mind. Bury those thoughts. Keep them down. He couldn't plague others with his problems. They were already tired of him, and though he didn't have many people he was close to, he couldn't let them hear those thoughts. They'd be insulted, hurt, and what intimacy he did have would be ruined. Perhaps that was better though. Perhaps he shouldn't have anyone close to him. It should be easier to live life if you didn't always have to worry about what everyone thought. At least, if you didn't care. His problem was that he wanted to be liked. If he didn't care about that, he could live as a hermit, away from everyone else, and finally be at peace.
His eyes followed the stitching of the wagon's cover, and watched as it flowed from here to there, to a patch in the center and on to another telling the tales of it's adventures. A nick in the wood there told of when bandits had attacked the caravan. A scorch here told of a foolish worker who dropped a lantern and almost destroyed the wagon along with the goods. There was a splatter there, that told of the blood that had been sprayed upon the wagon from the blood of some robber who was executed for his theft. Over there was an eye that looked into Zechariah's soul. A grin. The vast expanse of the endless sky, ridden with crawling stars. A faint silvery gleam that laughed at him from behind the sky.
"Endure a bit longer my child. It won't be long now." The silvery blackness spoke.
"I can't." Zechariah said. "I can't endure any longer. Please...no more."
"The stars are in turmoil. Fear no more. I will give you your hearts desire."
Zechariah saw through tears and blood. "I'll do anything. Please, just don't make me wait any longer."
"Fear not my child. You're vengeance is coming, and it will be sweeter than the joy of freedom."
Zechariah saw the stars crawling together to form a pulsating mass, twisting in the sky, haloed by silver light, and heart the world scream as the stars tore themselves open, and an asteroid came hurtling towards him. He cried out in terror, as a beautiful face adorned with red hair lent over him, frowning angrily.
"Who were you talking to?" She demanded. "Speak!"
"Salvation is coming." Zechariah responded. "Salvation arises."
"Salvation?" the Red Haired woman asked. "What do you mean? Salvation from what?"
Zechariah just began to laugh.
"Damnit Zechariah! What are you on about? Zechariah!?"
His chains, there were gone. He was free! He lashed out throwing a punch at the Red Haired woman.
"Zechariah!" She cried out as she grabbed his wrist and twisted it aside, slamming his face into the grain he rested upon. "What do you think your doing?"
Zechariah looked up in rage, and froze, meeting Nawfa's eyes. A cold chill settled into his spine. "I...I don't know...I'm sorry. It was just a bad dream." He said, getting his restrained arm back as he relaxed his muscles and Nawfa released him.
"A dream? But you weren't asleep." Nawfa said looking extremely concerned. "You were talking with me till just a few moments ago."
"What?" Zechariah said feeling just as confused as Nawfa. "I wasn't talking to you. I was just resting and thinking till a few moments ago."
"Zechariah," Nawfa said placing a hand upon his brow, "are you alright? You're talking like a lunatic. We were having a conversation about Amir. Don't you remember?" Feeling around on his head she said, "By Fraktín, God of Fire, you're sweating up a storm. Is your wound infected?" She asked immediately removing his shirt and beginning to undo the bandages.
Zechariah felt sick. He thought the one where he stabbed Amir's leg had been bad. "I...I'm sorry. I don't know what's happened." He tried to stop her from undoing the bandages saying, "I'm fine. I don't have a fever."
"I'll be the judge of that Zechariah." She said batting away his hand and continuing to undress his wound. "Just as I thought." she said inspecting his wound. "Must not have gotten it cleaned out properly." She said standing up and retrieving a medicinal pack. Zechariah looked down and saw some puss forming around the stitches. It was beginning to smell slightly. "Fortunately," Nawfa said, "I've been keeping a close eye on this, and I think we'll be able to stop the infection without any problem." She helped him up to the back of the wagon and had him sit on the edge so as to not accidentally spill any water on the wares. She then went about cleaning the wound again with water, and washing it with alcohol before drying it, and applying an ointment of honey and gravestool, a mushroom that, by it's name, grew upon graves or areas of the recently deceased. It seemed to feed upon the death below it, and produce life above it, for it held some useful healing properties. Not enough to make it a 'miracle cure', but certainly useful enough to be refined and added to poultices and pasts such as the one Nawfa now rubbed gently into his wound. She then applied a rather generous portion of the past to a cloth and, holding that over the infected spot, rebound his wound.
"There." She said when she was done. "Nothing more than a feverish episode. Now, I want you to lay down, and keep this cloth on your head. Use my leathers to protect the grain. It'll be fine."
"I don't have a fever Nawfa. Thank you for your treatments but, I'm fine, honestly."
"Mhmm, sure you are." She said as she pushed him back down upon the grain. "That's why you completely forgot our conversation and began talking about 'Salvation from the stars' or whatever you were ranting about." She paused looking at him critically. "What was that about though? What did you dream?"
"It was nothing." Zechariah said quickly feigning more fatigue than he felt as he rubbed his eyes again. "Just a bad dream."
"Ya. Must have been." She packed away the medicinal pack and began to crawl out of the wagon. "If you need to talk about something though, traveling on the road is a better place than most to do so." She slipped out of the wagon and resumed her work.
What had that all been about? He was losing his memory now? This wasn't good. He hadn't had a dream for a while, but it was getting far worse.
Three days later, Zechariah climbed out of the wagon. He was feeling much better, and needed not only to stretch his legs, but to talk to someone. In particular, Zaki. He jogged, stumbling a bit at first, his legs protesting at not being properly warned that they wouldn't have today off as well, and mad his way to the front of the caravan. As he jogged forward, his shoulder still complaining with each step, Nawfa called out to him and cursed him for being an idiot and tried to stop him, but he got to the front before she was able to kick her horse to intercept him. He grabbed the side of the wagon with his left hand and swung himself up into the watchman's seat next to Zaki.
Zaki looked over at him with bored eyes before turning his gaze back to the rears of the horses he was driving and he let down his veil.
"I wanted to ask you some things." Zechariah said, not being turned away by Zaki's abrupt rudeness. When Zaki refused to reply, Zechariah pressed onward. "Firstly though, I'd like to thank you for taking such pragmatic care of your caravan and it's workers. I know people grumble about the precautions, but it's important, and I admire that."
"Seems to me that you could find any number of asses admirable enough to kiss, so if you don't mind, you can stop kissing mine." Zaki said flatly.
"I'm not trying to sweet talk you. I'm stating a fact." Zechariah protested.
"The fact is that if I had been more pragmatic, I might have been able to stop anyone from dying. As such I failed those who died, and as such my ass isn't worth kissing. So go to someone else's."
"Zechariah!" Nawfa said riding up. "What are you doing? Get back in the wagon and keep resting!"
Zaki leaned forward looking at Nawfa and said, "Like hers. She'd probably like it as well."
"Zaki!" Zechariah said eyes widening.
"Like mine? Like what?" Nawfa asked.
"Your..." Zaki started
"Martial training." Zechariah interrupted quickly. "We were talking about the Jundar and how well you did fighting it. I was asking Zaki if one of the guards could train me, but Zaki said that I should just ask you."
"I agree." Nawfa said straightening her back. "I'm offended that you didn't ask me first! But I won't train you until you are fully healed."
"See?" Zaki said. "I told you she'd like it."
"Of course. Martial training is nothing to be take lightly, and I enjoy teaching people how to better protect themselves."
"Sure it is. Couldn't be more exuberant about it." Zaki said.
"That sounds like a good plan." Zechariah said hoping he wasn't going to regret his lie. "When I'm healed."
"And to do that, you need to rest. Get back in your wagon." Nawfa insisted.
"I agree. Get back in your wagon and away from me." Zaki said grumpily.
"I..." Zechariah began at a loss for words. "I'm not some invalid. I'll get back 'in my wagon' in a moment, when I'm done talking with Zaki."
"Oh look at that, I'm done talking. Bye." Zaki said, getting a smile out of Nawfa and a frown from Zechariah.
"Okay." Nawfa conceeded, "But don't take long."
"No. Wait! Get rid of him!" Zaki called out to Nawfa as she rode away. "Damn her." Zaki sighed.
Zechariah looked from Nawfa to Zaki who pointedly ignored his presence. He pulled out a small wooden tablet which he carved some runes into and held it up. "Secondly," Zechariah continued as though there had been no interruption at all, "I was wondering if you'd seen anything like this before?"
"No." Zaki said not looking at it.
"At least pretend to inspect it." Zecariah said in exasperation.
Without turning his body or shoulders, rotating his neck like an owl he turned briefly towards the wooden tablet before snapping his back forward saying, "Nope."
"Fine." Zechariah putting the tablet away. "Do you know anything about magic?"
"Nope." Zaki said.
"What about..." Zechariah started
"Nope." Zaki said with as much deliberate rudeness as he could muster.
"You know. This whole thing is really petty." Zechariah began saying as he was getting fed up. "I know you don't like me, and the feeling is..."
Zechariah paused as he more felt than heard a deep rumble echoing around the stones and through the ground around. He looked to Zaki, who had suddenly sat up much straighter, almost standing off of his seat, legs tense.
The ground trembled again, stones along their path bouncing with the force of it. Zaki leapt up to his feat and shouted as loudly as he could "HALT!" though Zechariah could see that he needn't have shouted it as everyone was already looking around wide eyes with terror.
"Josepha! Cut the straps to your horse. NOW!" Zaki cried and she immediately did so, dismounting and cutting the saddle and straps off letting them fall to the ground which began to rumble more and more aggressively.
"What's going on?" Zechariah said beginning to stand.
"Rock wyrm." Zaki said before shouting, "Keep your beasts calm, and DON'T MOVE!"
Everyone held their breath. The horses stilled and stood tense. They could feel the impending danger, and Zechariah began looking around, trying to find the source of these tremors. They got louder and louder, drawing nearer, closer. It was almost a deafening roar and then, it stopped. No one moved. A tense moment passed, where no one even dared breath...then a horse whinnied and stomped the ground.
The ground literally rippled and cracked as the Rock Wyrm rushed towards the horse that had stomped, and in the sudden burst of motion, Josepha's horse bolted, leaping into a gallop as fast as it could away from the beast that burrowed through solid rock below. Zechariah felt the world twist around him, smelling ozone and fresh rain as the ground rippled and flowed beneath the wagons and like a wake to a boat, cracks formed and rippled away from where the beast tore through the earth, rapidly gaining on the unlucky horse who drew it's attention.
In a moment it was upon the horse and though the horse threw everything it had into fleeing the beast, it could not out run it. A series of bone like claws with triple pincer ends shot from the ground on long, many jointed arms and ripped the horse into a hundred pieces, pulling the flesh into the stone below, and as the beast passed beneath the slain horse, the claws continued up through the ground, plucking up parts it had missed, drawing them in to be devoured as the beast burrowed deeper into the stone to return to it's depths and it's solitude.
"Bloody Barrens." Zaki cursed as he sat back down in his seat, and waited several more moments before whipping the caravan back into motion.
Zechariah sat stunned. He knew about Rock Wyrms, but seeing one in person...Though he didn't even really get to see it, just it's claws and it's speed. It was terrifying. "What...what is one meant to do against such beasts?" he asked stunned.
"Always keep a sacrifice handy and pray that the beasts take it instead of you." Zaki said. "It's what we do, it's what the Dustmen do. It's simply the only thing that can be done."
Zechariah sat back in silence, utterly stunned by what he had witnessed.
"What? No quips or stupid questions?" Zaki asked
"I don't know. It all seems kind of pointless in the grand scheme of things." Zechariah said.
"I can't argue with that. One reason why I don't give time to useless chatter, or useless people." Zaki said.
"I can't argue with that." Zechariah echoed in agreement.
Zaki looked over at him and though Zechariah couldn't see his expression, he thought that he saw appreciation in his body language. But then it was gone, and Zaki just turned back to his horses.
November 25th
Zechariah sat there a moment longer, and just as he was about to leave Zaki spoke up.
"I don't really like magic much. Always seems really useful, but always seems to take more than it gives. Figure if your netting negative, it isn't worth the effort." He continued speaking as though to himself, facing forward as always. "Sometimes runes pop up here or there. Whether they hold any power or not, never really bothered me. I figure it's best just to burn them and move on. Never saw the point of dancing with demons."
Zechariah paused, not sure if he should leave or press further, but after a moment of waiting and receiving no further dialogue, he leapt down and made his way back to his prison cell. He stepped carefully, unable or unwilling to avoid looking for cracks in the ground. Usually one felt safe on land, or so he had heard from stories of sailors, but now...he didn't trust the stone upon which he stood. Rippling like water, cracking sounding like thunder, and traveling much faster than a horse could gallop. There was no escaping them if they hunted. Sacrifices. Was that really the only way? He couldn't think of anything better.
He pulled out the tablet and examined it. "Whether they hold power or not." He repeated Zaki's words feeling across the runes. No, they couldn't hold any power. How could they? He wasn't a wizard, much less a Rune Crafter. It would take years of training and atonement to the Aether for him to forge Arcane Runes. No one just started crafting magical runes for fun. It didn't happen.
Unless you had enchanted tools.
He could try to use those, to see what his could craft with them. They might be able to help protect him from the Jundar and the Rock Wyrms. It might be able to help him find the Red Haired woman. But his last dream...was dark. She was intense and somewhat terrifying. The tools may not even help him. They could just be duds and nothing could happen, or even worse, he might be forging some dangerous runes and...well...he didn't want to think about what could happen. Who knew whether what he was carving was good or bad. 'Burn them and move on.' Perhaps Zaki was right. Perhaps it was better to just forget about carving for a while. Until he understood what he was doing at least, it might be better to put his tools down for a while. But burning his work? They were beautiful in their own way. They were the sweat of his brow, the fruits of his labor. Surely they held no power of their own, and were harmless. But how was one to tell?
"So, you finally decided to grace me with your company?" Nawfa asked as Zechariah climbed into the wagon, struggling with his one hand. Nawfa sat reclined, breaking off parts of some hard tack and eating them one by one.
Zechariah just grunted his response and carefully laid back down on his 'bed' trying to not jostle his shoulder too much.
"Have a good heart to heart with Zaki?" Nawfa asked feigning complete seriousness.
"Ya, we poured out our deepest secrets and held to each other as we wept for their sorrow." Zechariah said straight faced.
Nawfa's lips tugged into a reluctant grin. "Adorable. It warms my heart to see two cold stones weeping together."
"Two ghaalb. All rough on the outside, and soft and gooey on the inside." Zechariah joked.
"Fluffy will get jealous if he hears you speaking like that." Nawfa said.
"I'll have a heart to heart with him as well, show him my fluffy side." Zechariah grinned.
Nawfa laughed dropping a bit of her tack in the process. "You'll have to fight Khayrat to get to Fluffy. He's more in love with that ghaalb than with me." Zechariah's smile faded somewhat at that, and Nawfa noticed. "What? Don't like it when I mention Khayrat?"
"Not exactly. It just seems that I'm going to have to fight him no matter what." Zechariah said frowning.
"Is that why you want me to train you?" Asked Nawfa.
"No." Zechariah looking back at her. "That's because of the Jundar. But Khayrat can't be a bad reason."
"Going to fight for my honor? Or the chance to be with me?" Nawfa asked changing tone suddenly.
"Again...no." Zechariah said rolling his eyes. "He just seems to be an angry guy. First time we met he almost cut my head off."
"He's not that bad." Nawfa said leaning back. "He's actually quite the gentleman. He's kind and considerate. Quite boisterous. He really likes to have a good time, in all the right ways."
"Great. Wait to tell me about your sex life when I'm unconscious would you?" Zechariah said.
"Sure. I'll whisper it in your ear." Nawfa said leaning forward.
"Never mind... I'll go sleep with Zaki." Zechariah said pretending to stand up. "Ow!" Zechariah cried as Nawfa slapped him playfully, but accidentally jostled his shoulder instead. Seeing the brief moment of horror on her face he added, "Abusive to boot." forcing a somewhat pained grin.
"Bully." Nawfa said smiling again. "But seriously, play aside. What did you talk to Zaki about?"
"Nothing really. He's not much of a conversationalist." Zechariah said dodging the question himself, a step that Nawfa saw through easily.
"I seem to be surrounded by bad conversationalists." She replied pointedly.
Sighing Zechariah said, "Fine. I asked him whether he knew anything about magic, and he said no. There really wasn't anything else to it."
"Magic? Why ask about that?" Nawfa asked.
"Just curious I guess." Lied Zechariah.
"You want to see if you can attune to the Aether?"
"Not really." He answered somewhat truthfully. He was curious about magic, but more about the symbolic value, if any of his runes. "Just curious about how it all works and stuff. You know?"
"Not really, but if you want to learn about some of it, you could always try talking to Mudaris." Nawfa said.
"Mudaris? The one from your squad?" Zechariah asked propping himself up on his one good arm.
Nawfa nodded. "He's our squad's Ritualist. Only the elite squads have one, as their quite rare, but he has saved us more than any number of the other members combined."
"I had no idea!" Zechariah exclaimed becoming quite interested. "He didn't look like a Ritualist at all. He was all muscle and scars like the rest of you!"
"Of course. He can't wield magic in combat like a Soul Blade, but he can swing a sword almost as good as the rest of us. He's not usually the first into combat, but he certainly can hold his own against most. It's important in the Dustmen Elites that everyone can take care of themselves. The Ritualists are the only ones who can use magic though."
"Whys that?" Zechariah asked.
"It's in the way that they're formed, as far as I understand it at least. Whilst most practitioners must find a another Arcanist to 'attune' one's self to the Aether, and whether you form a bond or not is entirely dependent on the will of the subject, Ritualists seem to be born with the ability to sense the Aether around them. Though they are not able to tap directly into it's power, they are able to 'funnel' the Aether through rituals, acting like a load stone for the Aether, rather than actually controlling it. Or at least, that's what Mudaris has said it's like. I don't really know much about the whole process really." Nawfa explained.
"That's fascinating!" Zechariah exclaimed. "I've never heard of that kind of magic before. I knew about wizards and the 'attunement' but I had no idea some could be born with a magical sense." A question crept its way to upon his tongue, but he wasn't sure if it was sweet or bitter yet. Dare he ask it?
"As I understand it, there are many different ways that magic manifests itself in the world, though I don't know much about any of them, or even many of the methods. Arcanists attune to the Aether, Rune Crafters tap into the cracks of the planes, Channelers are direct conduits and Ritualists can 'draw power'."
"What was Ashuriel then?" Zechariah asked, not giving voice to his true question.
"Ashuriel? He was an Archmagus. I'm not really sure what that entails, but it was said that he was able to access magic in all four forms. But that could have just been tall tales for all I know." Nawfa said shrugging.
"Do you know much about Rune Crafters?" Zechariah asked.
"I'm afraid not. Only that they are able to carve runes into objects to enchant them with power." Nawfa said.
"Do you know what the runes looked like?" Zechariah asked further. Nawfa began to sense an urgency behind his inquiries.
"No. Only that they glow with an 'other worldly light' and give great blessings to those who carry them." Nawfa answered slowly. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." Zechariah said realizing that he was being too eager. He tried to lean back as to try and hide his enthusiasm.
"No...that was more than curiosity." Nawfa said pressing forward. "What makes you so interested about Rune Crafting?"
"I...does Mudaris dream?" Zechariah asked trying to change the subject. Nawfa frowned but let it slide.
"Of course he does." Nawfa said. "Everyone dreams."
Zechariah nodded. "Ya, of course."
"Zechariah, you are asking some pretty direct questions here. What's going on?" Nawfa insisted, realizing that she didn't want to let it slide.
"I don't know if it's safe to tell you." Zechariah said cryptically. Nawfa just raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.
"Not safe to tell me? The woman who's taken care of you constantly for the past several days?" She said offended.
"It's not that. It's...bigger than that?" Zechariah said hesitantly.
"Oh just spit it out!" Nawfa said with exasperation.
Zechariah opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it. He opened his mouth to explain, but the words wouldn't come and he shut it again.
"Really?" Nawfa asked. "After seeing me naked several times, talking rather intimately, taking care of each other, you can't share this?"
"I've never talked to anyone about it before. Only Amir really knows." Zechariah said apologetically.
"Fine." She said sitting up. "I'd best get back to Zaki and make sure we're not miles off course anyway."
"Nawfa, I..." Zechariah started.
"If you don't want to tell me something Zechariah, then you don't have to. We're not intimate with each other, and there's no obligation to share with each other what we don't want to." She stated formally. "Make sure you stay put and don't bother anyone else today." She finished as she climbed out of the wagon.
Zechariah wanted to stop her from leaving, but knew he wouldn't be able to find the words, and so he simply lay there, berating himself for his fumbles.
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