The duelist 7, p.22
The Duelist 7, page 22
Yeah… That must have been it…
A woman’s scream echoed and echoed as I fell.
Chapter 18
Singing.
More like humming, actually.
Just four simple notes hummed in a honeyed soprano over and over again, but it helped to keep me from losing my mind under the intense onslaught of pain I’d somehow found myself in.
Every so often, I surfaced from this stupor, and the things I heard and saw only fueled my fever dream.
At one point, Rylan’s stressed timbre hooked me to the surface like a struggling salmon, and I found myself being carried in a pair of giant Arvid arms.
“Argh,” I moaned as every step jarred every aching bone of mine that had some sort of complaint.
Which turned out to be a lot, especially all throughout my rib cage.
“He’s in so much pain, can’t we rest?” Rylan begged, and going by the sound of his voice, he was somewhere below me.
“Noooooo,” the sloth-man who was like Arvid rumbled out, and even the vibration of his deep voice jangled my raw nerves. “Heee muuuussst beeee juuuudged.”
“Rylan,” I managed, and my arm slipped over the ridge of Not-Arvid’s arm. I felt my son’s hand grab hold of mine, and I was able to squeeze him in reassurance until I lost consciousness again.
Then that singing tugged me back down under the riptide of pain and fear and soothed me into a calm blackness.
When I tried to open my eyes, I could briefly see some of the Dark Realm superimposing itself over my vision, and I had a moment of panic.
“No,” I heard myself mumble, and the world briefly swam back into focus.
I was now in a small room lit only by orange glow stones and laying on my stomach, and when I tried to push myself up, the sensation of something heavy like drying clay started to crack apart on my back.
“Staaaaaay!”
I shook my head to get the dark forest with the perfectly circular clearings out of my vision.
The small room snapped back into focus, and I saw something very blonde with clear blue eyes pop up in front of me.
“Dad, it’s alright!” Rylan came up and blocked my view for a moment. “They are helping us. See?”
He gestured to a few cuts on his own face that were smeared over with a turquoise paste, so I settled back down. Then the blonde thing came back in sight, and I saw it was the kind face of a female from Arvid’s kin.
Were we on Om?
I laid my head back down when I realized there was no immediate danger, and for the first time, I felt the numbing relief of whatever was coating my entire back. The sheer absence of that burning pain was so wonderful, and the second I closed my bleary eyes again, I was out.
The Dark Realm gripped me this time, and I couldn’t stop myself from falling down into that subliminal region.
I panicked when my eyes gazed upward at the flat white sky. My whole body felt weighted down with a weakness I wasn’t used to, and I knew I was basically a sitting duck for any Dark Realm creatures who decided they wanted a snack.
However, when I attempted to roll over and push myself to my feet, I was stopped by a pair of gentle hands. That was when I noticed the singing was back, and this time, instead of just a distant echo, I could tell it was originating from an actual person.
A person who just so happened to be petting my hair as my head rested in their lap.
I tilted my head back just a fraction more to get a glimpse at the owner of the beautiful voice that reminded me of pure crystal.
At first, those hands stopped me again as the melodious voice balked, but after a moment of hesitation, the person relaxed in a way I interpreted as permission to do what I wanted.
So, I continued to tilt back until I was met with a pair of stunning eyes that sparkled like a pair of garnet gemstones. Then my gaze widened out to see the face those beautiful eyes were set in, and I was slightly surprised to see the jade tint to her creamy-looking skin. On each high cheekbone was a shimmer similar to mother-of-pearl, with a scaled design whenever it caught the light, and the features of the fine-boned face were framed in a curtain of indigo hair that seemed to react slightly as if it was underwater.
“Hello,” I said breathlessly, and my heart beat triple-time in a way that had nothing to do with my earlier anxiety.
Whatever reaction I was expecting, it certainly wasn’t the one where this stunning and mysterious woman leaped up like she’d been burned before she vanished into the dark blue pool next to us.
I rolled to my side and watched the faint ripples of the water. It was the only thing that convinced me I hadn’t just dreamed up some beautiful water goddess, and when I felt the odd rushing sensation of the real world trying to crowd back into my vision, I simply closed my eyes and rode the waves.
At some point, the tumultuous in and out and back and forth calmed down to a more even keel, and somewhere in there I was able to both sleep and meditate in turns. I knew some days had passed, but I didn’t know how many because only part of me was able to surface here and there.
Each time I awoke, I was able to stay awake in the real world a little longer than the last time, but that was only to do things like drink water and eat a little bit of mild broth.
The cuddly and sweet-looking sloth-lady was the one I saw most whenever I frequented the conscious world. I had just enough coherence to ask her for her name, which unfortunately I forgot almost instantly, and enough strength to abide by any nursemaiding she had in store for me.
Usually, it was her rousing me and having me stay on my stomach so she could remove and apply more of that cooling paste whenever it had gone dry and flaky. I didn’t know what exactly had happened to my back, but I figured it was pretty serious.
Especially because in the snatches of Rylan I was able to glimpse before unconsciousness swept me under, his face was clear of any damage, which marked the passage of time.
This told me all I needed to know: my damage must be much, much worse.
Maybe that was the reason why on the nth day, when I honestly felt clear and awake enough to stay up more than just two to three hours at a time, I was actively fighting consciousness instead. There were just some things I didn’t want to face, and the thought of being crippled or worse made me want to shirk away from the knowledge one way or the other.
“No use trying to pretend,” a creaky voice spoke from somewhere off to my right. “You’ve been sleepin’ enough, boy.”
I sighed and peeled open my eyelids to the glare of that orange glow. The room was the same as I last remembered it, so this meant I hadn’t actually dreamed up the small wooden room with the kind sloth-lady.
Only, when I turned to squint at the person sitting at my bedside, the person on the stool in the corner there was not the plump nursemaid, but a woman with large satellite bat-ears poking through a mop of steel-gray dreadlocks.
“La-folk?” I croaked out and then cleared my dry throat.
The shrewd elderly bat-woman narrowed her gaze as she handed me a glass of purified water with the tithe stone still rattling around in the bottom.
“You’ve met my ilk before?” the woman asked in a light calypso accent.
“Madam Midgen,” I replied after I swallowed my mouthful of cool water. It was heavenly, and I couldn’t help myself from guzzling the rest of it down right then and there. “Sorry.”
“I have heard of The Midgen,” she said cryptically as she refilled my glass.
“Thank you,” I said as I took another slower gulp. “What-- ahem.”
I trailed off awkwardly as my mind swarmed with a confusion of things remembered and dreamed.
“You have questions,” she said. “Ask.”
“What’s your name?” I decided to start with.
“I am Madam Morta,” the bat-woman said and got to her feet, but her posture immediately canted her to the side like she was suffering from a curved spine. “And you are Alex Brightwood, according to your son, Rylan Brightwood.”
“Is that what he introduced himself as?” I asked, and I settled back against the pillows after Madam Morta took my spent glass away.
“Is there another name by which he answers?” she questioned sharply.
“Nah, it’s perfect,” I said and tipped my head back a little. “Are we on Om?”
“Yes,” she said and then flicked the thin blanket off my bare legs.
“Hey!” I yelped when I realized I was only in my undershorts.
“Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before, boy,” she chuckled roughly. “Usually, Meelo has been helping you with your wounds, but the poor thing hasn’t slept a wink the whole time since she found out you know Arvid.”
“Are they related?” I asked as I arched an eyebrow when I remembered the blonde creature tending to me.
“She is his wife,” Morta said and made a gesture for me to flip over onto my stomach.
“I didn’t know Arvi was married,” I said as I settled with a pillow under my arms. “How long have I been out like this?”
“It has been four and a half days,” she responded and then started using something on my back like a paint scraper. “And the one Meelo calls her husband has never met her before, so that might be a reason why you didn’t know.”
“Really?” I asked and then bit down on the pillow when Morta began to chip away at the dried stuff coating my back. It stung worse in some places than others, but over all, it was about as painful as a really bad sunburn.
Definitely a total step up from the mind-numbing acid razors from before.
“The Om-folk have arranged marriages from birth and usually do not meet each other until they both come of age to procreate,” the bat-woman said and then started to place warm damp towels all over the affected skin.
“Mm,” I hummed in pleasure when the warmth seeped into my buzzing muscles, and I snuggled further into the pillow. “That feels so much better.”
“Are you done asking your questions, boy?” Morta asked and then prodded my shoulder so I wouldn’t fall back asleep.
My mind still felt strung out all over the place, but I peeled open my eyes and tried to grasp at some of the nebulous things still floating around in my head. I knew there was probably more I should be asking, but the gentle throbbing against my shoulders and spine was distracting.
“I know there’s more to ask, but my mind is scattered,” I admitted with a sigh. “I guess I want to know what happened to me? Why do I feel this way? I remember something about the Red Moon, but the rest gets pretty hazy, and I’m not even sure some of the stuff really happened.”
“To hear your boy talk, it sounds as if you fell from some sort of castle in the sky?” the bat-woman questioned as she tidied up the tools she used to scrape the gunk off my back. “He says you and your lot have managed to make a castle fly. Apparently, that wasn’t good enough for you two, because the next thing he recalled was you both plunging down through the Okoba canopy.”
“Okoba?” I asked and then turned on my side so I could converse with her better. “Are those the giant trees we smashed through?”
“Yes, you are in the Okoba Forest on Isle Om, home of the last truly free Omites,” Morta explained and washed her hands off in a bowl of water. “In fact, you are inside one now. These large trees are the homes of these people, and the leaves that you say you ‘smashed’ through, are one of the ways the Omish collect their fresh drinking water. Because you and your son pierced the canopy, you disrupted the balance of the Collectors and therefore destroyed their water supply for the upcoming three fickles.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said, and my eyes slid furtively toward the water pitcher that was now only a quarter of the way full. “Is this why you had to put tithe stones in my water?”
“Very astute of you,” the Madam said as she relaxed back atop her stool. “There are not many of those stones this far north away from the quarries. And it is not like the Om-folk concern themselves with the likes of Ashers or Duelists or whatever you want to call yourselves these days. They ascribe to nature only.”
“I wouldn’t really know,” I admitted with a half-shrug. “I’m a Traveler, and I arrived on Nata Isle where most of my experiences have been. I’m still learning about the rest of Aventoll.”
“Nata Isle is several days east of us even on a fast frigate,” Morta said as that overly shrewd expression gleamed in the depths of her periwinkle eyes. “What are you doing in these territories, especially sporting a Stone with such a status around your neck? The only Duelist who is of Guide-Class status like you is the Overseer of the quarries, but he was appointed by our neighboring Isle of Leen. Nata does not have Ashers of that caliber who can be spared to oversee or govern the Outer Isles.”
“I can’t help but notice the suspicion in your tone,” I said after we regarded each other with appraising looks. I should have known just based on my knowledge of Madam Midgen how intuitive and smart the La-folk were.
“It is an easy thing to be when faced with suspicious and unexplained characters,” she responded, but a faint twinkle in her eyes told me she might not be as much of a hard-ass as she seemed. “It is just strange you are here at all.”
“Well, Rylan and I were both on the Isle of Terr, but our heading now is actually Eng,” I told her and watched as her amethyst eyes grew wide with shock.
“An outsider like you was granted passage to Terr?” She eyed me sharply like she couldn’t figure out what kind of creature I was.
“It's kind of a long story, but basically I know the Prince Regent pretty well, and he dubbed me Ambassador to try and help him with a few things over there,” I summed up. “We literally just left in our airship that we made out of Terran wirm skin.”
“And how did you end up on Om?” she asked. “All your Rylan could say was he was doing something he called ‘sleepwalking.’”
“I don’t know if he remembers me telling him this, but we both were,” I said and frowned as I remembered the strange and broken screams of despair that first haunted me out of my own bed. I could have sworn I heard it again before I passed out, but that time it was distinctly outside of my dreams. “Sleepwalking is when your body can’t tell you are dreaming. I woke up out of my strange trance before he did, and when I saw him dancing on the, uh, flying castle’s balcony ledge, I followed him because there was nothing else I could do.”
“Spoken like a true father,” she said.
“Was there any doubt?” I asked as my hackles were suddenly rankled.
Madam Morta just continued to gaze at me as her large slightly wrinkled ears swiveled to and fro. “You have said you were a Traveler, implying you have not been in Aventoll long enough to become familiar with some of the common knowledge known throughout the isles. And going off your purported son, who most definitely was born here, it makes little sense you could have conceived him, oh, fifteen seasons ago?
“Fourteen,” I said with a grin at the clever woman. She was like a regular Agatha Christie or something. “And he’s adopted.”
“Adopted?” The bat-woman arched her silver eyebrows. “Well, that certainly makes sense as to why the Okoba Leader has found you worthy of sanctuary. The Om-ish have a similar practice and look highly upon those who cast their vanity aside to care for children who are not theirs.”
“Hm,” I grunted as I tried to get comfortable back on my back. “If only I’d crash-landed on this island a long time ago.”
“You can relate to the abandoned,” the bat-woman stated instead of asked in that knowing way she had.
I locked eyes with her and nodded. “I can.”
“So can all the La-folk,” Morta said, and she left the topic at that, thankfully. “Tell me, what was your purpose on Terr, and if you don’t mind, why are you headed to Eng? Only savage beasts populate that isle.”
“On Terr I was an ambassador, like I said, and they needed a little bit of help seeing eye to eye,” I explained. “For some reason, the Regent thought I would be a good choice as a mediator, although I’m still not sure what he was thinking.”
“Are you talking about the factions that exist between the Echelons?” she continued to pry. “Do you expect me to believe one of the most stingy and stubborn of all the peoples on Aventoll have actually put aside their differences for the sake of unity?”
“Believe what you want,” I said with a smug smile, and I tucked both arms behind my head. The motion twinged and tweaked the skin on my back, but I didn’t let the discomfort show on my face. “But the Upper and Lower factions are no more, and not only that, but the united people are now considering opening their borders to Outsiders.”
“Impressive,” she said with a smirk on her wizened face. “Even if falling through several layers of Okoba leaves was not very smart.”
“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” I grumbled. “What are those leaves made out of, anyway?”
“Have you heard of Omite sun glass?” she asked.
“No wonder it feels like my back was recently torn to shreds by a thousand yards of glass.” I winced as I remembered the Jewel House on one of my estates on Nata Isle. “I have a structure on one of my lands that is made of such glass. It’s made from these leaves?”
“The majority of it is,” Madam Morta said. “It is one of the top luxury exports of this island, which is one of the reasons why the Okoba people are so apt to protect it from threats. Over the seasons, as the glass became more and more popular, more of the forest was harvested. The trees cannot sustain the heat when they are so close to the sun and so wither and die without their canopies.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about Rylan and me,” I told her. “We don't want to harvest your Okoba leaves or destroy your forest. What we would both really like is to join up with the rest of our people. If you know any way of making that happen, I would be very much obliged, despite what you’ve already done for us.
“I’m afraid I cannot help you there,” the bat-woman said. “The Outer Isles of Om and Eng are more primitively equipped than any of the others. Especially out here in the forest and away from the quarries. But in the meantime, I can reunite you with your son.”
