CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THE WITHERING LANDS

Endless white covers the Great North; encompassing the flora in a blanket of snow, laying it gently to sleep. It replaces the bright golden rays of sunlight with a monotonous grim pale and fields of green with hard stone and lifeless earth all in- silence. Harsh weather takes its toll. Soldiers grasp at the evaporating heat, trying to hold on to a glimmer of warmth. Just one. Cold does no justice to steel, turning cold to freezing. Lands of the Great North, the Withering Lands, live up to its name. The place where life fades away. Their journey is hard; it takes its toll. Exhausted looks speak of this truth.

The great army arrives at the entrance of a snow-covered black forest.

“Set up camp. We rest here,” a high-ranking officer yells as the army gladly obeys.

Experienced soldiers sigh with relief; another day survived. Inexperienced soldiers sigh with anguish; the path of glory is not as glamorous as the stories would let you believe, they wonder? Preparations for camping begin as they set both small and great tents; chefs cut and cook meat as the weary travelers sneak out presents from home. Presents in the form of fine drinks. Nothing better to take the edge off.

Night falls as color returns to the cheeks of men; a warm meal and a good drink do wonders for the tired soul. Nothing else to do apart from taking comfort when you can. The sight of the black forest sparks a chuckle on Ulric’s face; the wild brings a sense of home for the outdoorsman. He walks through the camp, taking in the new experience.

“Brother, you forgot to get my spear fixed. Again!” the sister says.

“Does it matter? They have blacksmiths here. We can get it mended for free. For free!” the brother responds.

“And what guarantee do I have that the blacksmiths are good or that they will do this?” the sister asks.

“Have you seen this army? I doubt they would spare expenses with something as important as this,” the brother adds brushing away her comment.

“If they don’t? What will I do if my weapon fails?” the sister asks staring at him with an almost lecturing look.

“Why worry, sister? I will look after you,” the brother says with a smile.

“Big words considering I spent all my life looking after you,” the sister says as both laugh.

Ulric watches from the side as a single tear runs through his eye; he clears it with his hand remaining unsure... simply unsure. He tightly grips his crossbow.

Further away from the camp, Melione stands alone gazing at the white-covered black forest with a faint smile; a gust of wind blows through her hair making it dance like a flower in the wind. She does not feel cold only a sense of purpose, only a feeling of being drawn further in like a moth to a flame. Will she burn following the light? Is there any purpose? Melione does not know she only follows her nose. This is her way.

The voices whisper.

“We are close,” Two says.

“Close! Close! Close!” One adds maniacally.

“It is there,” Two adds.

“There! There! There!” One adds impatiently.

“There but not there,” Two says.

“Not there but close,” One adds.

“Death?” Two asks rhetorically.

“For us?” One asks.

“No! Death is not for us but only for those that stand in the way,” Two responds.

“Death! Death! Death!” One repeats as it laughs.

“Dead like bunnies in the fields! Dead like bunnies in the fields!” Melione gently sings.

“There will be death for them,” Two says.

“Do we care?” One asks.

“No!” Two adds as it laughs.

“Then let us go,” One commands.

“Go! We need to go!” Two commands.

“No,” Melione gently says.

“No?” Two asks in confusion.

“NO?” One screams in dismay.

“We go together,” Melione says as she turns to walk back with the wind carrying her hair left and right as the dim daylight reflects from her white strands.

Shaphas stands alone near a great tent watching the snow; he shivers for a moment, but he is not cold.

“I hate the cold,” Shaphas says going inside.

How long has it been? Too long. Tyr walks through the encampment looking at the relaxing soldiers. Strangers, all of them. They still bring a sense of nostalgia, good and bad memories from his past. The memories when he was part of a unit. They weren’t so different. Fought together, marched, and laughed together. Under the veil of death, they were companions who shared the best and the worst of times. He hated and loved it; much like now. It feels good and bad.

A frown and a smile mix on his face. How can you love and hate something at the same time? This is ridiculous, Tyr thinks. You will hate it, you will love it but you shall not covet it the words sound off in his mind as though someone speaks them.

“I am ridiculous,” Tyr says, quieting the thought.

In one of the great tents, Noname is enjoying food and drinks with Harry, Little Pete, and Shaphas. The food is not extravagant as it was in the castle, but it is still a feast compared to what they were used to in the streets. Big Pete and the silent spear-wielding woman walk inside.

“Are ya two a thing naw?” Little Pete asks.

Big Pete shrugs as unsure of the answer. The silent woman looks at him with a stern look; he nods, confirming that to be the case. She proudly smiles. Ulric and Tyr arrive together.

“Grab a seat! Best seats in da house, they be,” Harry adds with a smile.

The new arrivals sit at the makeshift table.

“Anyone wants some?” Noname asks as she pulls out a bag of pertins.

Ulric takes one.

“This is good,” Ulric says.

“It is da best,” Noname says.

“Sweet and sour. Very good,” Ulric adds as Noname approves of this praise concerning her favorite fruit.

Tyr looks at the burned mark on Shaphas’es face as he wonders.

“Is there something on your mind?” Shaphas asks.

“I never asked you. How did you get that burn? Played with Aion’s fire too much?” Tyr asks.

“Something like that,” Shaphas answers, avoiding the question.

“Come on, enlighten us, burn-man,” Noname adds.

“If you must know I did it to myself,” Shaphas says looking away as though holding of a memory.

“Whattcha did dat for? It is disgusting,” Little Pete blurts out.

“Exactly for that reason,” Shaphas adds as his broad smile vanishes.

“Anyway, I wanted to know the reason you choose us to accompany you,” Tyr asks Noname, steering the conversation away.

“Did the Moon talk to you?” Ulric asks, leaning forward.

“Nah, ya crazy moon-man,” Noname responds.

“There is only one god and his name is Aion,” Shaphas adds, annoyed at the heretical beliefs.

“Does your god talk to you? I bet he doesn’t. The Moon talks to me. I can see it shining brightly down on me. What proof do you have? Did you ever see your god or talked to him? How do you explain this?” Ulric adds

“Explain it? You are bat-shit crazy, that is how I explain it. In the beginning, there was only a void and Aion. Through his grace, fire, and wisdom he created the world. Through his grace, he gifted life to all. Through his fire he sustains life. Through his wisdom, he shows us the way. In the end, there is only fire and Aion,” Shaphas recites a prayer.

Ulric and Shaphas stand in confrontation.

“Stop ya nonsense! I wanted ya all here cos ya ain’t no stinky nobles,” Noname says breaking the heated moment.

“Follow your nose,” Melione says as she walks inside with a smile on her face.

“What is her deal, anyway? Aren’t we supposed to be guards?” Tyr asks.

“She is the chosen one!” Ulric adds.

“Dat girl has weird magic,” Little Pete says.

“Magic?” Shaphas blurts out.

“Magic?” Tyr adds skeptically.

“A savage mystic killed her. Died for who knows how many times? Every time she gets up. Every time she kills those that stand in her way,” Ulric adds.

“Forgive me for not believing you,” Tyr says with a smirk.

“It true! I saw it. We all seen it,” Harry adds.

“Tomorrow you must go with me or death shall fall upon you,” Melione says with a smile.

“Lunch of worms! Lunch of worms! Lunch of worms!” Noname blurts out as her right eye twitches.

“Sure,” Tyr says as he ignores the whole weird situation.

The voices whisper.

“They do not believe!” Two says.

“They will die,” One adds.

“I don’t want them to die,” Melione says as the rest look at her with confusion.

“Die! Die! Die!” One sings.

“I must save them. But how?” Melione asks, drawing attention to her self-conversation.

“What is this?” Shaphas blurts out.

“Who is she talking to?” Tyr asks.

“To the Moon,” Ulric adds.

“To herself,” Shaphas adds.

“How can you save them if they won’t listen?” One asks.

“How can I save them? Tell me?” Melione asks.

“Why should we help you? We do not care about them,” Two adds.

“Not care! Not care! Not care!” One sings.

“Tell me now!” Melione commands as she focuses.

One and Two scream in pain.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” One screams.

“If you care that much I shall tell you. Show them?” Two says.

“Show them what?” Melione asks as the party watches her mad performance with a large assortment of looks.

“Death!” Two adds.

The voices go quiet.

Melione smiles at them as she takes off her clothes.

“What is this now?” Tyr asks in confusion.

“Has her sanity, and her decency, left her?” Shaphas asks.

“An excellent show!” Harry adds.

“A splendid show!” Noname adds.

Big Pete looks, but the spear wielding-woman tries to obscure his vision with her hand.

Melione takes the last of her clothes as she remains naked in front of her companions. The almost uncountable scars on her body speak more than words. The onlooker’s facial expressions change as their eyes widen.

“In the name of Aion!” Shaphas blurts out, moving back on his chair as far as it lets him.

“How?” Tyr blurts out as a shiver runs through his spine.

Little Pete holds the food in his stomach. Big Pete and the silent spear-wielding woman make expressions of dread.

“I take it back,” Harry adds.

“Still looks good, maybe?” Noname adds.

Suddenly, Ulric stands up as he draws his sword. He pierces her in the stomach to everyone’s added shock.

“What are you doing?” Shaphas screams as he gets up and punches Ulric in the face; he takes the punch with a smile. Blood drips from his lips. Ulric still smiles. Tyr gets up as he draws his sword.

“Have you finally snapped?” Tyr asks, standing ready.

Ulric laughs as the blood drips from his sword. In the next moment, Melione stands up with no wound, only a new scar in the sea of endless ones.

“Hello,” Melione says as she faintly smiles.

The jaws of the party almost drop to the ground. This is her way.

“I don’t believe it!” Tyr says with wide-open eyes.

“In the name of Aion! Is this some kind of trick?” Shaphas blurts out.

Tyr approaches Melione, inspecting the wound; it is real! He crouches as he tastes the blood; it is real.

“I think I shouldda stop with da plants,” Harry says rubbing his eyes.

“I dun think it is da plants, Harry,” Little Pete adds as Big Pete nods in affirmation.

“These are my carrots! These are my carrots!” Noname blurts out as her right eye twitches and her finger flips.

“Why show us this?” Tyr asks unsure of what happened.

“When the time comes you must follow me,” Melinoe says smiling at them.

Ulric approaches as he covers her in clothing.

“You are lucky! The Moon has offered you her graces. I would take them with gratitude. That is if you want to live,” Ulric says as he laughs.