-

Water drops cold and sharp as stalactites hitting an eyelid. The dampness was devouring his bones and he felt an infernal cold.

He opened his eyes and sat up.

A jail cell. From the small porthole high up in the wall, which should have served as a modest skylight, no light came in, only an icy wind. It was night. The task of lighting the room was the prerogative of the small torches on the stone flanks of the corridor that created a subtle orange glare.

“You finally woke up, huh? I thought you were going to die, brat!” A close voice said.

Ethan turned his head and saw a wrinkled old man, very long white hair and beard, collarbones and ribcage protruding through his tattered robes. He was so thin that, if he wanted to, he could have free his joints from the shackles in his wrists. He was sitting back to the wall, legs crossed.

“After the nurse left, I bet with the guards, brat, you know. According to them you wouldn’t last more than a night, in my opinion not even an hour. I’ve to offer them a jug of beer when I get out of here cause you aren’t died as a good guy” said the shrivelled old man with a despicable grin.

Part of the things that had happened on the beach came back to the merchant’s mind in a confused way. The bodies of half crew were missing, the other half reduced to mangled corpses. You decided to go to the Divines with all the Tiburon, huh? Why did you leave me behind? Ethan asked to the residual image of his companions, but quickly found the answer. No. I’m the one who left you behind. I should’ve been there. Did the Divines save me? Or did they condemn me to suffering once again? You didn’t deserve a death like that. For Ayae’s Love, no. Not like that. Who knows if at least the bastards, before throwing me here, buried you with dignity?

“Can you say something, brat? Not many have passed from here recently. Cause of you I lost a bet, at least now it’s your job to entertain me to calm my anger!”

Ethan ignored the useless request and got to his feet trying to orient himself. Although the shackles were tight around his wrists, the chains were far too long, giving him ample freedom to move. He didn’t recognize that jail cell, not that he would have been able to recognize any prison. There was no sound coming from the cold, damp corridor. “Old decrepit” he called, turning to the not yet surrendered skeleton leaning against the wall. “Where are we?”

“Huh? You’ve your tongue then, brat. We’re in Garatier Central Prison, brat. You don’t point blades at a guard’s neck. Are you touched in the head? Luckily someone put in a good word for you, brat. Who knows who? The fact’s that you’ve only had seven nights. Tomorrow you can already go out.”

“Tomorrow? It means that I didn’t wake up for…” Without realizing it, instead of finishing the sentence, a clot of congealed blood came out of his mouth, accompanied by a great cough. His legs gave out as if they were made of water and he found himself gasping on the floor before he could finish the sentence.

The old man seemed not to care. “Yes, you did, but you were all delirious and in pain, brat. You used to call names all the time. Meilv and Dennis, I think. Do you understand now why we wagered with the guards when you die up, brat? As soon as they brought you here you already looked like a corpse, you didn’t breathe, and you were as pale as the Plagues. A guard’s spear broke through a rib and a piece of lung, they said. I started complaining, you know that, brat? You don’t bring a smelly corpse into my cell. No, you don’t. If it wasn’t for that new young nurse who’s now serving here, now you were already dead, I tell you, brat. What a crash that little girl, huh? Her blond hair reminds me so much of the girls of Aillte an Tine and those icy eyes… Ah! The fact’s that titbit treated you like a husband who comes back wounded from the war. She checked you well, you know. A hand here, a hand there et voilà, one moment you were dead, the next moment you were reborn, brat” He finally concluded. It seemed as if he had been talking for hours and hours.

The old man’s shrill voice in Ethan’s ears sounded like the rumbling of a bell a few feet away from him. He did not believe his eardrums would allow him to tolerate any more those yelling. He spat out a remnant of orange saliva. “I will offer you a jug of beer, old man, if you get out of here alive, whether it’s in a decade or tomorrow” he said with the hint of a wicked smile that showed his red teeth, while a trickle of saliva dripped from a corner of his mouth. “My name is Ethan, old decrepit. I won’t even ask you the name because you won’t live long enough to make it necessary to remember it” he said, continuing with malice in response to the alleged bets that had his life as an object.

“Don’t you want to know, brat? And what do you think I care about what you want or don’t want? I tell you anyway because I’m the one who decide or not decide for me. Decades and decades ago, I was known by the name of Time.”

“A ridiculous name”, Ethan said.

Time just ignored it. “Old age is a gift to wisdom, brat, even though I’ve stopped learning for centuries. I don’t even try to tell you how old I am, you couldn’t believe it.”

“You don’t need to say it, I can already see it just by looking at what remains of your body. Let me guess, you’re at least two hundred years old, is that right?” Ethan continued, always smiling maliciously with slight pain.

He touched the bandages that covered his chest. They were red, but of dried blood. Good sign, somehow the wound already healed, he thought without even realizing how serious it had been.

“So, old man, what the hell did you do to be here? You should already be in the comfortable, fresh underground air of the catacomb.”

“Huh? What a joke, brat. And from what pulpit! Nothing special, however. I’ve committed few thefts, many murders, some regicides. A minimal punishment to be in this cell after all my crimes. You must know, however, that I’m here only because I precisely want to be here. I want to clarify that, brat. I like meeting new people, especially if they turn out to be special, because one day they can come in handy for my plan to recapture the Six Kingdoms from the grasp of invisible evil. I’ll free all these fools one day, believe me, brat”, the old man said, laughing out loud for no apparent reason.

Now it’s clear. Other than wisdom, age has gifted you dementia. Poor you…

The old man, who said his name was Time, went on: “I’m kidding, brat. Just kidding! I’m here because I started begging in front of a certain stall in the Merchants’ District and that damn trader accused me in front of the guards, swearing to Divine Gwenaelle that I was standing there stealing his stuff. Which is also true, but I don’t think it was possible that an idiot peasant like that could’ve caught me.”

“And instead, you were the idiot, as far as I understand. When will you get out of here, old man?”

“Soon, brat. I have many issues to resolve and soon I will return to my matters. This place has already tired me out.”

“Ah, sure, you’ll only leave because you feel like it. I understand, as you wish” Ethan said, leaning his back against the damp wall. What remained of the torn shirt got soaked in the water that penetrated the rock, accompanying the merchant with a shiver. Now that it was wet, it would no longer made sense to move away from that wall. He snorted in resignation.

They spent a lot of time in silence, Ethan staring at the floor and Time staring at Ethan.

It was the merchant himself who broke the silence as soon as the pleadings of his stomach rose with insistence. “Tell me, old man, haven’t they brought dinner yet? I’m hungry as a wolf.”

“Yes, of course they’ve already brought it to both of us, brat” he said, keeping the gaze he hadn’t taken away from Ethan for a moment. He grinned.

“What’s there to laugh about? Tell me where it is, then.”

“Here”, he replied, pointing to his sunken stomach with an index finger.

“Damn old dog”, Ethan muttered through clenched teeth, before throwing himself to the ground on his shoulder, facing the wall. He felt dizzy and stomach cramps from hunger. He realized, he did not even know by what miracle, that he still had the pouch tied to his belt. He sighed in comfort when he learned that his precious crescent-shaped brooch was still there with him. He squeezed it, closed his eyes and, as sleep took over, he thought he heard a long, very long whisper in his ear. Or was it just a dream?

“It was a pleasure, Chosen One. They’re looking for you, you know. But they haven’t had the same luck as me and now that I’ve you in my hands, I can hide your presence. I don’t know how they hadn’t found you already, but from now on they’ll never be able to feel your existence. You’re just a lucky boy. As for us, we’ll meet again soon. This I can assure you. When you’ll ready to be mutated, I’ll be there. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on your and theirs moves from the Falamh Valley.”

-

“On your feet, boy!”

A bucket of icy water made him come to his senses instantly. “Huh? What? What happens?”

Laughing at the reaction, a jailer held out a gloved hand in the same kind of studded leather as the jacket he was wearing. “On your feet, boy! You are free, you’ve served your sentence. Or maybe you’re fond of the damp floor and want to have another couple of nights? You want to scrounge some more to eat, huh?” His voice was coarse, but it sounded gentle.

“No. I’m fine. Did I hurt someone on the coast?” was the first thing that came to him to ask, because what had happened had become a set of disordered pieces.

“No, you don’t have to worry. Crako and Snigh, the two guards you met… I mean, we all know they’re two dicks. Luckily you managed to keep control on that beach and didn’t do something that I’d now make you regret. Plus, it looks like someone has vouched for you. Bah! Here, these fell on the sand, they collected them and brought them here together with your body. I’ve kept them aside for you” said the jailer with a smile, who, given his courtesy, seemed all but a jailer. “These blades are weird, boy, I’ve never seen anything like them. I must admit they’ve a certain beauty. I’m referring to both the colour of the steel and the leather covering of the handle. They seem to hypnotize you… Oh, but now stop steal over my time and no more bullshit, do you understand?”

Ethan took the blades and, thanking the friendly jailer, he put them back in their usual place. “Hey, old man, did you see? I survived and you? Are you still there?”

“Who’re you talking to, boy?” asked the jailer.

The merchant turned to the corner where the old decrepit man had been resting the night before. Empty. “With the old Time that was here until a few hours ago. And so, the scoundrel was freed today, huh?”

“What old man, boy? What time? There was only you here.”

Ah, that’s it. I must have dreamed it, then. He didn’t answer. He nodded and began to lead the way. Leaving the cell, he slammed his foot on two empty bowls resting against the bars that flew for a considerable distance but, in his haste to return to freedom, he did not stop to pay attention.

As he climbed the narrow stone steps, soaked with water that had passed through the rocks, which would bring him back to the surface, he thought about the words of the jailer. I managed to control myself, huh? Maybe it’d be better to say that if the skinny man hadn’t smashed my chest with that spear, I would’ve ripped his partner’s head without even listening to what he had to say or worrying about the consequences. I remember distinctly that I pointed the razors to his throat and then… He came to his senses slamming his face against something soft. He looked up.

“We should stop meeting by coincidences, Ethan of Morven. How are the wounds going?” Retreated and with his usual delicacy, the blonde girl he met at the harbour now wore her very long hair tied in a ponytail. In her hands she held a mountain of cloths on the top of which some tools clashed each other but, for some reason, they did not ruin on the ground.

Her beauty seemed to be able to placate all the thoughts that were destroying Ethan’s mind. For a moment, the girl’s fragrance of hyacinth seemed to him the best fragrance in the world, even more than the jasmine he dreamed of smelling with his eyes open. He had missed that delicate floral smell. He had missed her. He did not know how it was possible, since his heart was already promised, since he didn’t even know her, after all. Something invisible made him feel those sensations, as if they were artificial. Of this, Ethan was pretty sure.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, to be honest. I don’t even know what happened to me. Oh, I understand. The old man had warned me. So, it was you who took care of me, right?” Ethan answered with bright amber eyes, invigorated by the vision.

“What old man? Be that as it may, yes. You arrived here practically bled and with your bowels turned inside out. If I hadn’t been summoned immediately, someone would cry at your grave by now, Ethan.”

“Nobody would have done that. My family has… gone away.”

“I understand, there’s no need to speak in arcanes. I know what happened and I’m sorry. There’s still a lot of rumours about the boat torn apart on the coast. But that someone would have come to cry for you… I know that for sure. And if not to cry, to bring some hyacinths to your tombstone” she replied, staring at him with her icy eyes and Ethan thought he understood what she was alluding to.

It made him happy to believe that at least she would be there to mourn him or, at least, to bring flowers to his pit as fragrant as she was.

“And now forgive me, but I’ve some patients to bring back to life, as I did with you. Bandits who survived a fight with some guards, it seems” she concluded fleetingly with one of the most classic smiles in his repertoire.

Ethan watched her disappear into the darkness of the steps leading down through the bowels of the earth, towards Garatier’s dungeons. The long golden tail hopped left and right, making her perfume perceptible, even in the midst of the stench of mould and damp.

It’s not possible. Once again her name has fled with her. But… Would she have come crying over my grave? He wondered while the sun of an early autumn morning flooded his face. For a moment he had forgotten how cruel fate had been to him once again.

What to do? I should go find Shinji… He didn’t have a single copper denier and, as far as he could know, he hadn’t eaten or drank in days. Why, then, did he not feel as hungry or thirsty as he had the previous night?

Not Shinji, he decided. He would return to the bay. He had to see that place once again and if, above all, their bodies had been taken away.