Chapter 11

The Hill

“Are you sure we can trust him?” Krysta sounded strained as she asked, no doubt from their crouching as they moved through the passageway. The rush of water and light grew louder, nearly at the exit when Terrill realized that it smelled. He was sure this was some kind of complex waterway system now. He endeavored to respond to Krysta first.

“Not sure, but that letter proves that Mayor Rainert trusts him. For now, that’ll have to be good enough.”

“Terrill, he posed as the city beggar inside a castle jail cell.” She had a point, but they were well past the point of backpedaling now. Her momentary halt brought Terrill bumping against her, and with a light shove she continued on until they crawled out of the passage to find themselves faced with their newest path.

“Oh, it is a waterway system…” Terrill lamented. The only boon was that it didn’t look quite so complicated as he feared. The river around the castle appeared to flow inwards before hitting a point and being distributed to other parts of the city. There were some workers that oversaw the operation, but for the most part, Terrill and Krysta were able to stand there undetected while they worked out their next move. Terrill sucked in a breath. “I think King Phillip is a good man.”

“I’m just worried we’re going to be arrested again.”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens,” Terrill assured her. Some footsteps on a walkway above made Terrill grab Krysta and drag her off to the shadows. Certain they were hidden, he perused what the king had given him while she made sure they wouldn’t be spotted. It was a simple letter, pressed with a wax seal bearing the Valordan royal coat of arms, addressed to Crown Prince Ricardo. Terrill thought about opening it, but realized it was a letter meant for the prince, alone. He stowed it away inside the pocket of his jerkin, and then Krysta tapped him on the shoulder.

“Each of the tributaries leads to a different part of the city, since the castle sits in the center. If we take it like a compass, that one should lead us north and out along the river. Looks waist deep, but if we keep our heads down…” They didn’t have any other option. Krysta had identified the safest way out of the castle city. With a nod, she took the lead, creeping along the walls to avoid notice.

Terrill wasn’t as small as Krysta, and had to work to crouch lower and stay in the darkness produced by the upper platforms. Some soldiers patrolled this cavernous hall, but none were looking for any supposed fugitives, allowing them to reach the nearest spigot of water without any notice. There were workers on the other side, but they were too occupied with the running of the streams to take much notice, even when Krysta poked her head around to find the stream they were looking for. Said stream fed from a pool that surrounded a complex array of levers and trenches.

“Ready for a plunge?” Her voice was covered up by the running water, and Terrill patted the important missive in his front pocket. The closest worker moved along the central mechanism they were near and Krysta took her chance, with light footsteps that vaulted into a jump. She made a splash, but dove underneath before she could be seen. The worker continued his inspections, and when he was out of visible range, Terrill ran and jumped in, himself.

The water reached his waist, but Terrill was forced to bend over, careful to not get his upper half wet while he waded through the pool of water to the northern trench. It flowed steadily, and soon Terrill found he was caught up in its path behind Krysta, a sluice gate approaching. There were no guards manning it, and Terrill wondered if those that usually would had been called away to search for the king. If they were, luck was on the duo’s side and they slipped past the gate and into the running river that rose a bit more on their figures.

The length of the river ran long through the dark canal, and Terrill made sure to keep the letter safe. There was no way to tell how far they were from wherever this particular line poured out, but Terrill grabbed Krysta’s hand and held tight to it until, after a while, the light could be seen. Once they were closer, he could tell the line ended at a culvert with a metal fence on what he hoped was the outer walls of Valorda. It was impossible to tell from their side, but when they reached the end, the duo bumped against the metal and could see the grassy plains that surrounded the capital. They had found the right way out.

“Stand back. Let’s hope no one hears this,” Terrill said. Krysta sloshed back through the water while Terrill’s knee parted it. It sunk back below as his foot tapped the ground, and the spire of stone split the metal fence in two. The water didn’t flow out any faster, and Terrill waited for a moment to see if anyone was coming to check it out. When no one did, he crept closer to the edge, realizing the moat that surrounded the city was all that divided them from their northward journey. Another tap of his foot, and Terrill created an earthen bridge that spanned half of the defensive water. This time, he didn’t wait.

He and Krysta dashed from the culvert’s exit, their feet stomping along the stone bridge before they launched themselves. Terrill landed on the grass first, rolling aside and then catching Krysta so she wouldn’t fall back into the moat. Both glanced upwards, but whatever guards were atop the ramparts hadn’t seen a thing. Not wanting to press that luck, the two calculated their position relative to the northern gate, though it was immediately obvious that they were on the right side: a range of mountains could be seen directly opposite from the city.

“We didn’t see those on our way from the Trough,” Terrill panted out. He hadn’t realized until now how cold his lower half was, and his legs ran in place to dispel the chill. “My guess would be that Invaria lies over those mountains.”

“And the Forsaken Hill. I have no idea how we’re going to cross that,” Krysta remarked. The lower part of her hair was wet, and she had her hands on her knees while she regained her breath. Her crown of flowers had fallen to the grass floor, abandoned. Occasionally, she would look backwards. “Are you sure you don’t want to head back south and join up with your friend?”

“Lumen’s handled himself so far. I’ll have to trust he can handle whatever he’s looking for, and Charles is probably looking for him, too.” Terrill couldn’t take his gaze from the mountains, and his feet started in its direction before Krysta yanked him back.

“Do you really think by going north that we’ll be able to accomplish anything?” Her voice had grown lower, as it had when she’d begged him to not run off, and his wounds ached from the thought of it. “Your friend Lumen is what you’ve been searching for this whole time, Terrill. There’s no guarantee we can stop a war by going to Invaria, but if you reunite with him, you can return home. There’s no reason to concern yourself with a war that’s not even in your world.”

Terrill pulled his arm out of her grip, his scowl doing a poor job of concealing his hatred towards what she was saying. He searched her face for why this issue had suddenly come up, but found nothing in the way of answer. To that, he sighed. “There’s no guarantee I can get home, even with Lumen. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about that. But this…this feels real. And if it feels real, it means I can stop it.”

“I guess.” Krysta’s arms hung limply at her sides until she managed a watery smile. “I just don’t want you to throw yourself into something you might not walk away from, not now that you finally have a lead.”

He appreciated the concern, and patted her on the head in his show of gratitude.

“Don’t worry. We’re just going for a talk, after all. You still planning to stick with me?”

“As if I’d have any other answer. I can’t go talking about how I am worried about you, only to let you go off on your own.” She took his hands again, both of them feeling very cold against his already chilled skin, and offered him a grin. “Let’s head for Invaria.”

Hand in hand, and without even realizing it, the two took their first steps away from Valorda and towards the range of mountains that separated the two countries. Terrill wondered what lay beyond them, fearing what he’d find out about the opposite state, and whatever fiendish plans Atrum had cooked up there. Still, he kept walking, putting distance between himself and the capital.

It took a few hours, and the capital remained within sight, but Terrill started to realize how ill-prepared they were for the next leg of their journey. Without bags, or food, and a great stretch of land before them, the two collapsed near a copse of trees as the sun began to set on the Valordan plains.

“I guess we got caught up in the flow,” Krysta said, her head hitting the back of a tree. A howl sounded on the air, along with some hoots, making Terrill long to make a fire. He figured some of the tree would do well enough, and the wolves that were out there could suffice for food. If only he had the energy. “Do you think we should head back to the city, or press on?”

“I fear if we head back, we’ll lose more time than we ever would just soldiering on.” Terrill sat up, staring back at the bright lights that made Valorda. They weren’t the only pinpricks of brightness, as there were some moving ones belonging to the lanterns on wagons, or people traveling by horseback. One was aiming directly for them, but the fact that it was a lone light meant it wasn’t any group of soldiers, and Terrill relaxed. That relaxation prevented his body from moving.

Although, even if he had been able to move, he hadn’t expected the traveler aboard the horse to call to him before the sun had fully set.

“Hail, friend, what brings you northward?” Krysta sat up to the voice, as well, the horse the man was riding upon slowing to a trot as he approached. A lantern that hung from a pole bobbed in the air, making the traveler difficult to discern. That became less of a problem when he pulled to a stop and hopped off. “Wouldn’t happen to be heading to Invaria on a foolhardy quest to stop a war now, would you, Terrill?”

“Walter?!” The duo cried, each coming to stand at the familiar face of their previous guide. Indeed, Walter leaned against his horse to give them a smirk, while his equestrian companion stamped at the ground, eyeing Krysta warily. “What are you doing here?”

“Heading north, myself. I might’ve gone straight ahead until I saw a very lonely looking couple against a tree. I may have an eye missing, but my other one makes up for it and then some.” The hunter chortled at his personal joke, one he didn’t actually find all that funny, and then dug into his saddlebags. He pulled out some wrapped jerky and tossed it to the pair, along with a pair of waterskins he had collected in the city. “Glad to see you escaped prison.”

“More like set free by royal pardon,” Terrill muttered. He was beyond grateful to tear into the jerky, filling his belly from the day’s events. Walter was intrigued, but he didn’t ask any more until he’d snapped some branches off and got a roaring fire going, joining the pair beneath the boughs of the tree. “But this is some coincidence. Where are you headed?”

“Pravado.” The shadow crossed Walter’s face, and Terrill gave a knowing “ah” as he guessed at what was driving the hunter northward. “It would seem there are some rumors about the dark knight in the capital. They say he works for Invaria, though I seriously doubt that. It’s possible Pravado was his last place to raze. Who knows? He could still be there.”

“And you’re hunting him…why, again?” Walter’s knowing smile indicated he wouldn’t tip his hand, and the hunter sat back.

“In either case, would appear you and I are heading in the same general direction,” he said, watching Terrill through the fire. “I wouldn’t require payment if you wanted to team up.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s in it for us?” The smirk Terrill wore at Walter’s question being turned on him made the older man laugh.

“Food and a horse, of course. And if the rumors about monsters populating the Hill are true, it wouldn’t hurt to have another blade along. That’s what’s in it for me.”

Terrill glanced to Krysta, who had no issue with the man joining them, continuing to tear into her tough jerky with a look of distaste. He chuckled under his breath.

“Yeah, all right, Mr. Hunter. Lead the way.” Terrill and Walter joined hands as the fire continued to burn bright into the night sky, their alliance once more set.

Walter proved just as capable a guide northward from Valorda as he had on the way to it. There wasn’t that much to guide before the Hill, though, so Walter passed their four-day journey to that junction sharing in some of his adventures, and more than once asking about those of Terrill and Krysta.

“I see,” Walter remarked on their third day, before the sun could set, “so you managed to have a lead on your friend. If it’s the same boy I helped, then it’s no surprise he was searching for something as fanciful as the Wind Fortress.”

“You don’t believe in the legends?” Krysta asked, munching on some fruit Walter had provided. The horse eyed the piece jealously, but refused to partake when Krysta offered it.

“I believe when they’re convenient, but not really,” Walter said. His candidness was appreciated. “If you believe in one legend, suddenly everyone becomes reliant on it. I don’t want a world where my fate is decided by some arbitrary value of legend. I prefer it crafted by my own hand.”

“And that hand intends to kill this knight?” Walter stopped the horse in its tracks, eyeing Terrill with his one good side.

“With great pleasure.” He snapped the reins again, continuing them forward. “What about you? You said you don’t want people to experience the same horrors of war as fifteen years ago, but isn’t that some version of defying fate.”

“I don’t see it that way. I see it as upholding my Guardian creed. Nothing about fate there.” Walter snorted, but had no words for him. They continued in silence from that point on, through the rainy night all the way until the dawn of the next morning, where they found themselves on the threshold of Gladius’s most dangerous terrain.

“The Forsaken Hill. Turn back now if you value your lives and sanities, as this swampland is populated by monsters and devils,” Walter said, his voice that of one telling a scary bedtime story. Terrill wasn’t deterred. “Not that I would know. I often go around it, but it takes a far longer time than just finding the path through this place, and we’re both on a clock. You sure you’re up to this, or do you want to return to Valorda? Never know, there might be more special handcuffs waiting for you there.”

“You’re cracking me up, Walter.”

“No path to go but forward.” Krysta saying that marked the beginning of their entrance to the swamp. Her hands glowed with her light, providing a beacon through the fog that rolled in as soon as they stepped upon the one piece of solid ground they could find. “Single file is best. Careful not to fall in.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, Miss Krysta,” Walter assured her, taking up the rear of their party as he carefully led their horse. The animal was skittish, champing its feet back and forth like it sensed an all-threatening presence within the swamp. That made any progression nigh impossible, and at one point, Walter chose to just give up, untying the bags from the steed and tossing one each to Terrill and Krysta. “Looks like we carry the load ourselves. Get out of here. Yah!”

The horse was more than glad to, taking off without so much as a neigh. It didn’t even express its worry about Krysta one more time.

The swamp became dead silent, and now it was Walter’s turn to take the lead, his spear held in front of him. The grim lines on his face made Terrill withdraw his sword, covering their rear in case any creature decided to make them a snack. He hoped he could see them coming, given the denseness of the fog.

Their journey continued on, impossible to tell day from night as they crossed through the swamps. Mosquitoes tried to eat at them, but they were nothing against the growls stalking them while they clambered over downed logs. Terrill wanted to ask why this place was called the Forsaken Hill, but his determination to keep dry prevented the query from ever leaving his lips.

He was given the answer, anyway, when the incline of their path changed, trending upwards. At this point, Terrill began to see broken bridges, an attempt to build a more stable path through the swamp, but one that could not have been considered successful. Each of the wooden bridges had snapped, sinking into the quagmire and providing no pathway. The higher they climbed, the worse it got, and at one point, a boar came charging down the hill.

As Walter was the first, his spear expanded outward, and with one lunge, the hunter impaled the beast through its eyes. It attempted to run him through with its tusks, but Walter swung his spear up, slicing it clean in half before it dispersed into ashes. The sound of the other monsters retreated. They continued their climb, their feet now thick with the dampness that the swamp waters brought until they emerged at the crest of the hill, the lone dry point.

There, Terrill surveyed the path they walked and the one which they were to take, finding neither different from the other.

“An arduous road,” Walter said, setting the fire as best he could and pitching a small covering to keep it dry. Krysta didn’t hesitate to warm herself against it. “Be glad it’s not like Wicked Forest on Clupei. The fog hides monsters here, and the safe passage, but that place is a gnarled den of illusions that chokes and corrodes the senses until you’re left with nothing but your basest, evil desires.”

“Sounds like you have experience with much of the world, Walter,” Krysta said. She was rubbing at her eyes and yawning, which made Terrill lay out a bedroll for her. A harsh cry fluttered out from the swamp and Terrill could feel the eyes watching their campsite.

“Enough. Can’t say I know everything, but I’ve wandered for eighteen long years.”

“Never found your knight in all that time?”

“For a long while, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” There was nothing more they could get out of Walter, not even a historical explanation regarding where they were laying their heads that night. All they received was a mere, “I’ll take the first watch. Best not to let our guard down in these mists.”

He sat, facing outward from their poorly constructed tent, and said nothing more. Terrill saw no reason to not try for some sleep, sitting against the back of the tent as he let the embers of the fire warm his body. With Walter on watch, it didn’t take long for Terrill to fall into dreamless sleep, awakening only a few hours after. Their companion hunter’s head had drooped, his drowsiness claiming him in the pale moonlight that broke through fog, and Terrill stood to take his own position as watchman.

Crickets chirped, and Krysta’s snores kept a rhythm by them that any of the red-eyed monsters seen peering through the mist did not dare disturb. Terrill watched her chest rise and fall until he thought it better to pay attention to the outside of the camp, massaging his arm and shoulder while he did so. The ache had never disappeared.

A sudden mewling cry resounded from a little down the hill, near a pool that had formed. Its sound appeared to have chased away much of their observers, and Terrill peered in its direction to find what looked like a deer near the base of a dead tree, injured. He couldn’t believe a deer would be found here, in the swampland, and his fascination overtook his reason. Terrill left Walter behind, padding down the hill to where the poor beast lay, its leg injured.

“Poor thing,” he said, carefully approaching the deer, or perhaps doe was the more accurate term. It seized up at his presence, but Terrill made sure to keep it calm. His hands touched to its light fur and it continued to cry out while he soothed it. As its sounds calmed, Terrill lifted the creature up, setting it back on its legs. It stumbled, and could only walk a few feet at a time, but eventually made it closer to the water’s edge, beginning to drink it. The exertion made Terrill rub his shoulder once again.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? The wound Blaise gave you.”

Terrill’s sword traveled faster than his mind processed, stopping at the neck of the familiar blond-haired Atrum. The boy hardly flinched, and the two found each other in a silent deadlock. Until Terrill spoke, that is. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t do it.”

“How about the promise you made to the elder?” Terrill’s hand shook, his lips curling into a sneer.

“That’s a cheap shot,” Terrill snarled out. His blade didn’t remove itself from Atrum’s neck, though, and the boy made no move to do it, himself. “Why are you here, Atrum?”

“I wanted to see you. Every time we seem to start fighting. I…I didn’t want that.” Terrill scoffed, hardly believing anything from his mouth. Still, Atrum wasn’t tense, so Terrill chose to take his words at face value, withdrawing his sword, but never sheathing it. “I take it your wound from Blaise still hurts, like it never fully healed.”

“What do you care, Atrum?”

“I can’t care about my friend?” Terrill’s free hand balled into a fist while Atrum continued talking, each word testing his temper. “The wound on your shoulder…you can’t heal it. Not fully. The shadows laced in his attack, my shadows…they can’t be cut so easily. You’d need to extract the piece of soul aggravating the-”

Terrill couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Atrum, and with a roar, slammed him against the dead tree. What few leaves might have been left descended to the ground, but Terrill angrily held Atrum up, his lips quivering. “I don’t give a crap about that, Atrum! You still think we’re friends after the stunts you’ve pulled? After the war you’ve started? Or are trying to, at least.”

“You think I really had any control over that. Do you really think-?”

“I don’t know what to think about you, Atrum, but you’re nothing like what I remember. What happened to you in that darkness, other than this ‘truth’ you keep muttering?” Terrill’s breath was heaving, feeling like a winded animal that had just completed a race. Atrum didn’t try to break Terrill’s grip on him, but stared down the length of his arm.

“Humanity is fickle and petty,” he said. The suddenness of this new proclamation caused Terrill to drop him, but he wouldn’t remain defenseless, and the Guardian lifted his sword against his former friend. “They throw away people’s lives for nothing. They threw away Lumen, Charles, even the both of us. If there’s an ugly path to take, they’ll take it. That’s why wars happen, Terrill.”

“Don’t give me that.” Terrill shoved the boy again. “Your Fiends, they needle at good and kind people. I know for a fact that your little schemes are the reason Valorda and Invaria are set to go to war. People wouldn’t just do that.”

“You think too much of them. Always have, Terrill.” Atrum sighed, and turned away, looking out over the pool of water where the deer yet drank. Terrill contemplated running him through with his sword, putting an end to it right then and there, but the reminder of his promise to the elder stopped him cold. “I always admired that part of you. Still do, I think. You want to believe people can be saved. That you can stop a war of hatred and discontent and retribution, but fate’s chains bind us all too tightly. One person alone can’t alter the flow and fight destiny.

“After all, you try to stop one war here, and another pops up down the road, all because fate demands it. Because the world’s flow needs to be fed.”

“What the hell are you prattling on about?” To Terrill, Atrum looked to be in another place entirely, distracted, as he would often be back home, ever looking off towards the horizon, like he aspired to something greater. It irked him more than he could bear to admit. “Are you telling me it’s okay to send two countries into war, to their deaths, just because you believe it’s meant to happen? That’s a load of crap, Atrum, and you know it! We lived day in and day out under the fear of Golbrucht, and Sayn still does. We’ve been taught that value of life and you just want to throw it all away!”

“And what if we could stop Golbrucht for good? Stop him from reincarnating like he would have soon in our world? What if there was no more need for him to attack Sayn? What if…?” Atrum paused, interjecting his own words with a liberal sigh. He shook his head, and turned back around, his eyes grown resolute, yet not in the dark and cold way he had regarded Terrill on the ship or back on Tarkinder. “I think I understand now, why I have this moment. What I was put there for. What I was created for.

“I’ll bind fate with my own strings.”

“You sound delusional.”

“I don’t think so. Not anymore, Terrill. I had to see that for myself, I guess…that we were on opposite sides. Or maybe…the same side, but a different way? I know you realized the same thing at Tarkinder. You had to have seen it.” Atrum’s hand raised, and Terrill saw a smile adorn his lips. Not a smirk, or a sneer or a cold ambivalence towards Terrill, but a genuine and welcoming smile that he hadn’t seen since that fight at Golbrucht’s castle. Atrum’s hand flattened, offering itself to Terrill. “Let’s join forces.”

That simple request sickened Terrill.

“Like. Hell.” His clenched teeth made the words escape in a hiss. Atrum’s smile didn’t vanish, but he nodded.

“As I figured.” Atrum’s head fell, his hair draping in front of his eyes like an obscuring curtain. “You’ll always do as you please, running headlong into danger before you break. Just don’t…don’t break too soon, Terrill. I don’t want to have to fight you, not now that we both understand.”

“And what does that mean?” Terrill’s sword filled the distance between he and Atrum, the steel pressed against his friend’s chest. This time, the boy didn’t seem to care for it being there. He grabbed the blade and moved it away from him with a simple shove.

“It means that I know you will keep struggling, always, to prevent people from dying. Watching you all this time has made that quite evident. But the longer you go, the more you will break,” Atrum looked up once more, stepping back. Shadowy mist supplanted the fog around him, taking watery forms that had not yet become corporeal, and between them, Terrill could see the black strings he swore to seeing in Tarkinder. “I don’t want you to break. I still have use for you in our conflict ahead. You’ll continue to help me foment the destruction of the cycle, just like Lumen will.”

“No, I’ll stop whatever you’ve done to these countries, and this world, and-” Atrum’s laugh brought a premature end to the sentence.

“So noble. Just like another Guardian. How they believe that the future can be protected by their mettle alone, yet when despair sets in, they are so easily strung up by their master’s strings.” The shadows grew thicker, forming into wolves and boars, and the shape of a man with spiky armor. One of the wolves lunged, and Terrill bisected it. This was becoming Atrum’s true face. “Those strings tying us to the fate of this world are too taut, Terrill. Cut one and another takes its place. Remove a link and they replace it. It’s too ingrained.

“I will sever those links entirely, let the shadows take hold and bind it under my authority. I’ll corrode those pathways, collapse the two in upon each other my way. I will defy destiny!”

Defy destiny? One of the boars charged at Terrill, and he flattened his sword to stop the rampage before creating a plinth of stone underneath it that sent it flying. Atrum was disappearing into the smoke he created, his hand still outstretched and inviting.

Terrill refused to take it.

“Atrum, I’ll just defy your destiny.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try. It’s your most admirable quality.” He was almost gone, his monsters left behind and pawing at the ground with snapping, drooling jaws. “But you’ll understand as he’s come to: there is no defying destiny your way. And when your body is broken, I’ll offer again. You’ll see reason and understand why; that’s all I wanted to tell you here. Then we can all be on the same side.

“Keep on fighting, Terrill. Burn bright for the shadows.”

“ATRUM!” Terrill swung his sword in a horizontal slice, and with it, his magic poured out, creating a line of spikes that jutted from the ground and impaled each of the monsters. They ceased their movements and crumbled to ash, leaving just one: the visage of the dark knight who took a clanking step closer to Terrill. He readied his blade.

He never needed it.

A shadow leapt from one of his stone spikes, jumping through the air and with a mighty cry, he impaled the shadow of the knight with his spear. It sounded pained, and the shadow didn’t make a noise to that pain. It just watched Terrill as Walter twisted his spear deeper inside before the shadows dissipated into ashes. The smoke disappeared, replaced once again with the rolling fog and a heaving Walter.

Atrum was gone.

“Just an apparition…” Walter spat, his spear shrinking back in upon itself. That familiar darkness distorted Walter’s features, but Terrill was too busy staring after where Atrum had disappeared. He didn’t stop until Walter shoved against his shoulder. “Next time, don’t wander off. It will do you no good to get lost here. Don’t believe and chase after illusions.”

The man let go of him, and proceeded back up the hill towards camp. Terrill wrenched himself away, still questioning Atrum’s meaning in meeting him, but when his eyes fell upon Walter’s retreating back, he was filled with a greater trepidation.

There were no illusions on the Forsaken Hill.

Still Walter had no hesitation as he had viciously slain the shadow of that dark knight all the same, disregarding whether it was real or fake.

And Terrill began to wonder what kind of man they were traveling with.