70. Back home

Oh, oh, oh, the swallow goes,

flying, flying on the wind,

from nest to nest, without knowing

where it’s going!

“Oh! Oh! Where it’s going!” I repeated, bawling at the top of my lungs.

Great puffs of steam were coming out of my mouth. It was because of the cold. In front of me, Little Wolf, wrapped in the warm blanket, was watching me intently. The day before, all his interest had been taken up by the snow. As soon as Dakis had let us get down, he had started to touch it, his fingers had turned red with cold, and I had wrapped him up in such a way that the little one had not been able to untangle himself and had remained so, wrapped up all night. Every time I looked at him, I couldn’t help but smile.

That morning, the sky was clear, which I was glad about. We had been travelling for seven days, and it had only rained during the two days that we had been through the great forest. It seemed that the Spirits were on our side. Perhaps Rogan’s prayers were working. Besides, after I had collected the twenty crowns from the Crypt, I had given a siato to a blind beggar whom I thought was a good man, for Rogan said that giving money to beggars brought good luck. Of course, when I told him, the Priest laughed at me, explaining that that only applied when he, himself, was begging. But who cared! Nevertheless, he had praised my generosity and predicted a happy and uneventful journey. Well, so far, everything had gone well. The only hitch: on the third day, the magara for making fire had stopped working. I felt cheated by the Labyrinth merchant who had sold it to me, but not surprised: these things were as unreliable as a merchant. That is why I had brought a bottle of phosphorus and a firestone. A good gwak always had to have several streets to escape to.

“Today, we’re going up even higher!” I announced, stopping singing and closing the bag. “Everyone’s ready? Dakis! How are your paws? Feeling well? If you get tired, you say so, eh. Let’s go!”

We climbed on his back, and his muscular legs began to move. We were almost there, or so I kept telling myself. We had travelled a great distance in seven days, thanks to the hellhound, and we were already in the midst of the mountains which bordered the valley of Evon-Sil. I looked around for a landmark, for something that would bring back my memories… but I could find nothing. My impatience grew by the hour, I forgot to sing, I tried to remember, and once I even shouted a shrill “Elassar!”, hoping perhaps that my master would hear me and show his skull between the snowy trees. But my cry died, and only the continuous and discreet sound of the hellhound’s footsteps on the snow remained.

Dakis didn’t like the snow and the cold, probably because in the Underground there was no winter. Nevertheless, he didn’t grumble much, because Little Wolf and I cuddled him, we played with him, I scratched his ears and sang happy songs to him… And, well, he couldn’t complain about his riders. And to think that, before, I used to run away every time I saw him and my harmonies would go crazy! Now, at night, I covered all three of us with the blanket, and we slept together, huddled by the fire, like comrades.

I smiled, and as the sun was already beginning to decline from the zenith towards the mountains ahead, I spotted a rocky peak peaking between the trees and threw out:

“Dakis, I’m getting down.”

I left Little Wolf in the care of the hellhound, and landing in the snow, I walked forward, scanning the trunks, looking for those Caeldric marks I used to leave on the bark to guide me when I was smaller. I found none.

I came to the small rocky peak and carefully climbed to the top. The view was very much as I remembered it. Trees and more trees covered the mountains with their bare branches and old trunks. I turned, for I was not looking for a landmark on the other side of the valley, I was looking for the Peak. I looked up and scanned the peaks for a while, when suddenly one of them caught my eye. I looked at it, frowned, shook my head, my heart beat faster, and I raised my hand.

“This is the Peak! Dakis, Little Wolf, it’s there!”

It was so incredible to see it in real life! The hellhound grunted as if to say, “Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good, but be careful .” After gazing at the Peak for a moment longer, I came down and landed in the snow with a splutter:

“Almost there!”

We went on at a good pace, and I kept saying to myself, “We are almost there”. But I was only really sure when, with the sun already threatening to disappear behind the peaks, we crossed a half-frozen stream and I saw a mark on the bark of a nearby tree. I recognized it and gave an exclamation of joy.

“Dakis, Little Wolf, I did this! I did this! For real. We’ll get there before nightfall, for sure. Come on, comrades!”

I was trembling with excitement. I began to walk in front of the hellhound. When the sky began to darken, my spirits did not wane: on the contrary, I was getting more and more excited. At last, I saw the famous tree which had once been my favorite: there I had met my first squirrel friend, and in that same tree, the yarack had given me its yellow feather the day before I left. Recognizing its branches and its bulky trunk, I inhaled the cold air and intoned in a joyful voice:

Larilan, larilon,

Hey, Spring,

Come out now,

Bombumbim,

How nice, it is spring!

Larilan, larilon…

My bawling child’s voice broke the serene silence of the mountain. I hurried up the slope and saw, hidden between two blocks of snow, the entrance to the cave. In front of it stood a skeletal figure in a dark green cloak. I was on the point of fainting with happiness. I cried out:

“Elassar!”

I sped up, skated through the snow, and nearly fell over. I recovered my balance with alacrity, and having lost my top hat, I did not even bother to pick it up: I continued to run while my master laughed. The nakrus opened his white arms.

“Elassar!” I repeated, panting.

I went to him and hugged him, unable to believe that at last—at last!—I had come home. He protested:

“Hey, watch my old bones. Little one!” he cried then, running a skeletal hand over my head. “I didn’t expect you so soon. But tell me, are the sajits so horrible that you’d come back with a grumpy old man like me? Bah, bah, bah, how glad I am to see you again! You must have so much to tell me…”

His singular nakrus voice rang in my ear like the best of songs. His magical eyes had turned away, and I recognized a glint of annoyance mixed with curiosity. He asked:

“Are you bringing visitors?”

I turned, saw the hellhound with Little Wolf perched on it, stopped at a distance. Dakis had retrieved my top hat with his teeth. I smiled broadly and waved them over, introducing them cheerfully:

“This is Dakis and Little Wolf.”

The nakrus’ eyes widened in amusement.

“I suppose Dakis is the marmot, and Little Wolf is the quadruped.”

I laughed.

“No! It is the opposite. Dakis is a mist hellhound. He comes from the Underground. And so does Little Wolf… Well, but no one must know. The little one has a disease in his bones, and Coldpalm—She’s the necromancer magician who got smoked in autumn,” I explained hastily. “Well, Coldpalm gave him to me to take care of him—”

“Hold on, son, hold on,” my master stopped me, slowly raising a skeletal hand. He stepped aside and gestured. “Welcome, all of you, let us get inside and talk, but with calm, Mor-eldal. If you start eating your words, I won’t understand you.”

I nodded vigorously and exclaimed:

“I’m bringing the ferilompard bones!”

My master looked at me, his eyes squinting.

“What did you say?”

I sighed. Was I really talking so fast that he couldn’t understand me? I said:

“I say I’m bringing the fe-ri-lom-pard bones.”

My master shook his skull.

“Really?” He looked incredulous. He entered the cave and carefully sat down on his large trunk, repeating with amazement, “Ferilompard bones? And where did you find them, son?”

“In the Storm Hills!” I exulted and coughed as I received Dakis’ curious look. Imitating Rogan’s theatricality, I retrieved the top hat and corrected, “Actually, no. I found them in a palace. Look, look.”

And as Dakis lay back comfortably in the cave and Little Wolf sat looking around curiously, I opened the bag and rummaged about, overexcited at the thought of giving the bones to my master. I was so happy at that moment! I took them out, put them on the trunk beside him, and pointed at Little Wolf.

“He has a few too.”

That said, I stood silent, expectant, while my master examined the bones. His magical eyes glowed intensely. When he put on that expression, he could stay absorbed for quite a while, so after a while I turned my gaze to the cave. The three books and the mirror were still there. I bit my lip and motioned to Little Wolf to come closer. He came over, and I sat him down beside me. So as not to disturb my master during his inspection, I spoke to him in a low voice:

“You know what a mirror is, don’t you? No? Well, look, there’s one right here in front of you. It was Elassar who explained to me that, if you raise your right hand, it shows you the left one, you get it?”

Seeing the blond boy watching his own reflection, eyes widened, I scoffed:

“Scary, huh?”

I ruffled his hair, and checking that my master was still focused, I took the storybook and showed it to Little Wolf with emotion.

“Look at these drawings,” I whispered.

And I showed him the dragon, the cat, the mouse, the dog, and the pretty house with the mill. And while I let the little one turn the pages carefully, I glanced regularly at my master, waiting for his reaction, looking for some sign that he was happy with the bones I had brought him. I thought I saw a flash of indignation and tensed up, suddenly worried. Did he not like my bones? I saw his eyes take on various expressions, he even chattered his teeth two or three times and, increasingly anxious, I finally broke the silence and asked:

“Elassar? Elassar, don’t you like them?”

The nakrus lifted his chin, and his eyes did a complete turn in their sockets, mocking.

“You mean the bones? It’s a marvel, Mor-eldal. A pure marvel. But I wasn’t admiring the bones just now,” he admitted. “I was learning how stupid sajits can be. And Dakis seems to agree with me on that,” he observed, his eyes smiling.

I frowned, puzzled, and looked at the hellhound and the nakrus in turn, and then… I understood.

“Good mother!” I exclaimed. “Dakis has been telling you things without me knowing? That’s cheating. I wanted to tell you everything in my own way. That’s cheating,” I repeated.

I felt betrayed, but from the mocking expression on the hellhound’s face, he didn’t seem to care. I sighed. My master laughed.

“Don’t be angry! Just because your friend tells me about your adventures in the world doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear them from your own mouth, son. On the contrary. Tell me all about it. In the meantime, I’m going to warm your blankets, because it’s going to get dark, and you don’t want to be cold. I know how shivery the living are.” He winked at me. “Come on, give me those blankets and talk. Talk all you want. For once, I promise not to ask you to be quiet, Mor-eldal. A necromancer keeps his word. Tell me,” he encouraged me.

I smiled at the prospect, gave him the two blankets, the large and the small, and leaving Little Wolf busy with the drawings, I sat down at the foot of the trunk, wrapped my legs around me, and gazed at my master as he lit the lantern. A warm light filled the interior of the cave. There was almost total silence. Then my master took the large blanket and began to cast spells. After watching him for a while, I said:

“Well. Well, then, I’ll tell. But it’s going to take a long time, eh? I have a lot to tell. A lot of things! I’m gonna make you bestial dizzy, Elassar,” I warned him. I smiled broadly as he gave me a mocking look of defiance. So I went for it.

It was a chaotic, exuberant narrative, full of corrections, contradictions, digressions, blunders, and boasts. I spoke of Mama, of my meeting with Yal—“my cousin, a great guy, I wish you knew him”—and I told of my unbelievable heroic feat: I saved the Nail-pincher! Can you believe it, Elassar? I took the jaodaria out of his body, as you did with me, and saved his life. Spirits, I can’t tell you what an isturbag he was, killing himself like that! All for the sake of a few words, can you believe it? But it so happened that… I went off at a tangent, rambling on, and after a while, I jumped at the Wada and said: “And then Korther gave it back to that nail-pincher, I don’t understand! But, well, I pinched it, and everything went smoothly,” I assured him. And I began to tell him about my comrades. I summed up my captivity in the salbronix mine by saying: I spent two moons there, it was a hell of a time, really, but then Manras brought us the key to the gate, as I had asked him to do, and we went out throwing stones! I laughed, remembering it, and spoke of the alchemist, the sokwata, and my time in prison. Cursed coachman who almost smoked Manras and me! But no harm came without good: I had met Le Bor. And ah, by the way! I didn’t tell you about the Purple Orb. Dakis knows about it, because he came with learned hobbits who were looking for the Orb… And I explained to him its powers, that it was none other than Marevor Helith who had made it… Imagine! I held it in my hands, to look for the bones of the ferilompard, because I stole them from the Palace, but then a son of a rat filched them from me, what, a little more than a week ago? It was wonderful! I exclaimed. And I continued to talk and talk. Only at rare moments did I get stuck, not knowing what to say, and then my master would ask me questions about what some particular word meant, or who this one was and who that one was, and you could see that he was eager to understand all my verbiage, and I was even more eager to see him understand.

At some point—I don’t know how I got there—I explained to him the enormous dilemma that Kakzail had posed for me, and said in an already hoarse and tired voice:

“I don’t know what to do, Elassar. My older brother says I have to choose between my mates and the barber, and Swift says that sure as hell you know how to unscramble my head. But… the truth is, I don’t want to talk about that right now,” I muttered. “The sajit world is so… complicated,” I yawned. “I like it a lot, Elassar. But sometimes there are sad things. Good people die. And there are monsters worse than the ones in the mountains. In the gang, they say I am a magician and that I know many things. I didn’t tell them that, actually, I don’t know anything. You think I should? Well, sometimes I love to brag, I can’t help it. But the truth is, I don’t understand the world. And I know I never will. But not because I’m small, eh, ’cause I know that, even if I had white hair, I wouldn’t be able to understand it. People are so strange, and at the same time, Estergat is so beautiful. I love it very much, Elassar. I know as much. I like the street very much, and the carts with the horses, and also the store windows. They are beautiful…”

I yawned. My eyes were closing. I was leaning against the trunk, protected by the warm blanket the nakrus had prepared for us. Little Wolf had been asleep for a long time, and the light of the lantern shone softly on his pale childish face. Dakis lay stretched out under the blanket and yawned with me. I could hardly keep awake, but I had to keep talking, I still had so much to tell. And yet I was so tired!

Then I felt my master’s bony hand remove the top hat and say in a soft voice:

“You made me wonderfully dizzy, Mor-eldal. You don’t know how happy I am to hear you speak. But, now, it is time to sleep, little one. Don’t worry: tonight I’ll watch over you and Little Wolf and Dakis. Go on, sleep in peace.”

I nodded, half asleep, lay down completely, and as my master extinguished the lantern, I murmured:

“Elassar. I don’t know if you know, but… I missed you a lot.”

I saw his green eyes in the total darkness. I heard him whisper:

“Me too, little one. Now you’re home. And you can stay as long as you like.”

I was speechless. As long as I liked?

“For real?” I muttered.

His eyes smiled.

“For real. And now go to sleep, little one. Good night.”

I closed my eyes, smiled, and before I could even think of saying “good night” back to him, I fell sound asleep under the warm blanket, accompanied by a little boy, son of kings, a mist hellhound, and a nakrus who was watching over us, sitting on his big chest, in this cave lost in the middle of the snowy mountains… At home.