Chapter 4
It had been two days since Joram had made the realization of where Lord Yandegal and the Necromancer had been getting their stock. He had told his men that same afternoon. They hadn't taken the news well. Several of them had actually thrown up at the thought of using your own people like that.
The small band of soldiers sat near the top of a hill, an hour or so before dawn, just south of what had once been the city of Aries, a city that was nearly as large a Belancourt. Now the city had an imperceptible gloom about it. The buildings looked normal, the gates intact, but there were no people to be seen. No people going about their daily lives, no children playing in the streets. Instead, every now and then, they could see a shuffling figure wandering through the city.
Even at that distance, they could tell that those were zombies.
"Light protect us." One of the men behind him said in a whisper. The Light indeed protect them.
"We will set out after dawn. Get what rest you can." Joram said, and the word was passed along. Cam stayed with Joram.
"Do you suppose we have any chance of getting anywhere near that Necromancer alive?" Cam asked quietly.
"Honestly?"
"Yeah."
"No." Joram said as he turned to regard his best friend. "That is why you are going to take the men back to Belancourt."
"You plan on going on alone?"
"I have a better chance of doing this alone." Joram explained quietly.
"I pray that our paths may cross again one day." Cam said as he leaned over to give his friend a fierce embrace.
Joram returned the bear hug in turn. "Once you see the city burning, take them back. That will be the sign that I have succeeded in my mission."
"You don't plan on coming back, do you?"
"Not for a very long time." With that said, Joram stood up and took one last look at his band of courageous soldiers. Most of them couldn't even grow a proper beard yet. Not that he could yet, but that was beside the point. They were young, and had long lives ahead of them.
Joram just hoped that they would make it home after they left.
He was sitting atop what he assumed was an inn. He had gotten this far by jumping from rooftop to rooftop. He was only another few hundred yards from the main keep. And now he was stuck. Before him stood a creature that looked like a man, except for the several horns sticking out of it's head slightly elongated head, bat like wings on it's back, a long thin tail with a barb at the end, and hands and feet that sported very nasty looking claws. It's skin also looked to be made of granite. All in all it was ugly. Unfortunately it was also tough.
Joram casually re-sheathed the katana he had made. He then quickly took the two swords and dropped them into his shoulder satchel, then taking out the swords his father had made him. He put these in their place at his hip just as another three of the creatures landed around him. This was going to be tough.
The one behind him and to his left attacked first. It swung its clawed hand at the back of his leg, trying to cripple him. Joram jumped well over the attack and came down behind and to the right of the creature, sword flashing in the morning light. The creature fell over, now headless. The other three howled in furry and charged all at once.
For several minutes it was all Joram could do to keep the three creatures off him, swinging his two swords, and dodging to the best of his ability. Here, one would slash him across the thigh, there one would smack him in the back with a tail or wing. He, on the other hand, managed to take off a few claw like fingers here, and a wing there.
The creatures didn't seem to be tiring in the least. That put his plans off somewhat. He was used to fighting someone until they became too tired to react properly. These creatures didn't seem like they would tire at all, if ever.
So he decided to try something somewhat… rash. He threw himself backwards and rolled a dozen or so feet back. When he came to a crouch, he quickly sheathed his wakasashi so he could perform the necessary hand seals.
The creatures ran full into his Phoenix Fire jutsu, and did they howl. The fire was hot enough to crack the tiles that covered the roof beneath their feet. Just to make sure that they were dead, he kept up the jutsu for another few seconds after the horrible screams had stopped. When he lowered his hand, he was quite surprised at what he saw.
The roof tiles had at first shattered, then melted. Not only that though, but the creatures he had been fighting had melted too. They looked like grotesque ice sculptures that had halfway melted then were frozen again. They still glowed a soft red amongst the fire he had started. With a shake of his head Joram got up and sheathed his katana, now looking for the next roof to jump to before this building caught any more on fire than it already was.
Soon enough he was again jumping form rooftop to rooftop getting closer to the keep. He just hoped his little light show had gone unnoticed by the residents of the keep.
"Ah, so some fool dares to come and oppose me, hmm?" The man in a pitch black robe mused. "Interesting. I wonder how much fun he will prove to be…?" He said as he walked around a large table full of equipment for his foul art.
He stopped in front of a gaunt man, gibbering man. The fellow appeared to be quite mad, for he was drooling slightly out the right side of the mouth while carrying on a conversation with one of the stools about what each colour of the rainbow tasted like.
"I'm sorry that you are not in a condition to appreciate the spectacle that will soon be had my dear Yandegal." The man said in mock sympathy. "I wonder if these new types of zombies I've been working on will prove useful?" The black clad man asked the former Lord of Aries. Yandegal just responded with some spit bubbles. At that the man stood up straight again and let out a laugh that came from the belly. Unlike most laughs that come from the belly, this one chilled all those that heard it.
That laugh he had heard a few minutes before was quite disturbing. Then again, the only people left alive in this place must be quite disturbed themselves… ah, well. Joram thought to himself as he climbed the up the side of the keep. It was somewhat slow going because the masons had cut the stone really well so they fit together with very little mortar.
Even then he was making good progress. He was just glad that zombies couldn't use bows at all. Or even climb walls. That was a boon. That was probably the only reason why he hadn't been torn apart by the hoards of zombies yet. They couldn't climb.
Looking up he tried to determine which window the laughter had come from. It was kind of hard because of, one; the angle from which he was looking, and two; the fact that there were about ten or twelve windows to be seen from where he was. Well, one window was as good as another at this point. With that thought in mind he chose the second one from the right above him.
This was definitely not the right room. Nope, not the right one by a long shot. From where he was in the window, he could see most of the disturbing room. It was done in a scarlet and pink theme. Looked like a bridal suite or something. Unfortunately it wasn't empty. What was more unfortunate was that the zombies therein were: one; all female, two; dressed in skimpy lacy strips of cloth that left nothing to the imagination, and three; they were all chained up in the most degrading and compromising positions he had ever seen. Not that he had ever seen a woman in this kind situation before! This was just beyond any effort fathom. How could anyone be this sick?
As he was about to leave he heard something that made his blood run cold and made him want to empty his stomach. It came from one of the zombies. With an effort greater than when he had left his village he went all the way into the room.
One of the zombies was staring at him. It was the one that had spoken. "Kehll… meee…." It repeated. He could sense that the body was dead.
"What are you?" Joram asked it, pushing down the urge to throw up as he approached.
"Meeee… shtirlll… heeerre." It said in the most pathetic and hopeless voice imaginable.
Had the necromancer bound that lady's soul to her corpse after she had died? Was she aware of what was going on around her, unable to act in any way? Was this to be this person's hell? Not to be able to move, to do, to live? And when her flesh rots away, what would then happen? Would her consciousness still be attached to her bones, to remain for eons trapped to the frame that had housed her soul in mortality?
Soon the other eleven zombies noticed him standing there. They all repeated the same thing. Kill them. Kill them please.
He could no longer bear their pleas for release. So he went about the grisly work of decapitating all those in that room. With each one he could almost hear a sigh of relief as his sword descended to end their torment.
Burning with a rage he had never felt before, Joram made his way to the window and began to climb the building once again. When he reached the next row of windows up, he stopped and listened very carefully for any voices or laughter. There. The third window to the left. He recognized that laugh. He was going to make sure that that person never laughed again.
It took him another ten minutes or so to make his way carefully over to that window. Very slowly he raised his head enough so that he could peek in with one eye. To the far right of the room a man was having a conversation with a cloak stand. He was dressed fairly well, though his attire was stained and dirty. It was the second person in the room that really caught his attention when he walked into view.
This man was tall and gaunt. He wore a tight skull cap on his head. He looked like he was either bald, or he shaved his head. He wore long, flowing, black robes with many pockets. He also had a belt with dozens of little pouches and bags hanging from it. What really caught his attention was that the man was leading a zombie to the door.
That decided it for him. That man must be the necromancer. Before his conscious mind could register what his body was doing, he was already in the room and running for the necromancer. As he came within four feet of the necromancer the zombie spun around and punched him in the face hard enough to not only halt his forward momentum, but to send him flying six feet through the air, and to slide another ten feet along the floor. The man in the dirty clothes suddenly started clapping his hands saying what a wonderful show this was.
"Ah, I hadn't expected you to come through the window like that my young friend." The necromancer said in a concerned tone of voice. "I was just taking Christopher here to meet you at the door should you arrive."
Said Christopher was a very large zombie in good repair, meaning that he was almost hardly touched by rot. He also seemed to move like he was still alive; none of the halting, shuffling movement that would indicate he was a zombie.
Joram shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it.
"Ah, but where are my manners? Christopher, help our guest to his feet." Christopher then headed over to Joram and picked him up easily by the front of his tunic. "Now Christopher, you forgot to help him with is sword." The nameless necromancer chided.
Again the zombie complied with the orders of its master. It shifted Joram's weight to one hand and reached down with the other to collect his fallen sword. Joram just couldn't pass up the opportunity. In a flash Joram had both unsheathed his wakasashi, and severed the arm that was holding him up. As Joram dropped to the floor the zombie again reacted faster than he had expected it to.
It used the lack of weight from its missing arm to spin around and slash him with his own katana. Fortunately enough for him the dull side hit. Unfortunately he was again hit hard enough to send him sliding across the floor again. Christopher was there in an instant, slashing away at him.
As Joram ducked a wild swing from Christopher he dropped the rest of the way down and did a sweep kick that dropped Christopher to the floor. Joram was up in an instant forming his hand seals. Christopher was able to get to its knees just in time to get a torrent of flames in the face. The flames lasted for about ten seconds before they abruptly stopped due to Joram being hit by a lightning bolt full in the back. That sent him flying yet again. He was starting to enjoy the feeling of flying through the air, though not what caused him to do so.
Funny thing was, he could swear that he saw Katreen standing off to one side as he flew by. Oh, his heart just stopped. You just noticed the oddest things when you were flying through the air.
As he lay in the far corner of the room they were in, Joram could hear the Necromancer complain that the fun was over too soon for is taste, and at how angry he was that the intruder had managed to hurt his cute little creation. That made Joram's blood boil. The freak was more worried over an abomination than a human being?!
Something inside of him snapped. Suddenly there was a massive torrent of chakra flowing through him. To the outside observer, he was now brightly glowing blue. To Joram, he felt stronger than he ever had before. For some odd reason, he could swear he felt Katreen smile. He didn't know how he knew, he just knew.
Slowly getting to his feet, Joram stared bloody murder at the necromancer. It seems that the necromancer felt something was horribly wrong, because he suddenly looked up with a worried expression painted on his face. When he saw Joram taking slow steps towards him he blanched.
"You! You're supposed to be dead!" The necromancer said as he backed up slowly. Lord Yandegal was now peering through the bottom of one of the more bulbous beakers oohing and aahing.
"Those women were supposed to have been dead as well. But no. You had to bind their souls to their corpses!" Spittle was now flying from his lips as he started to do a complex series of hand seals.
"My precious-!" the nameless necromancer was cut off abruptly by Joram's yell of, "Meteor Storm!" With that yelled, Joram inversely cupped his hands towards the necromancer and dozens of fireballs the size of his head came forth and slammed into, not only the necromancer, but Christopher as well. Each fireball made a small explosion upon impact and lit whatever was flammable around it.
The necromancer's agonized screams could be heard for the fist few moments of the attack, but was abruptly halted when one of the fireballs entered his mouth and ended his life with a bang. Lord Yandegal was crying like a little child in a corner, but was soon encompassed in flames. One of the last coherent things said by Yandegal before he completely succumbed to the flames was for his wife to forgive him.
Joram didn't know Yandegal's wife at all, but he guessed if she had been one of those zombies with its soul bound to it, he wouldn't be forgiven any time soon.
With that thought in mind Joram again went to the window and climbed out. He hoped the whole building took fire. Maybe then would the land be able to forget about the scourge of undead that had come from this place. A couple of levels down, Joram entered another room. This one was richly furnished with expensive woods and cloth. Not even thinking of the beauty of the room, Joram went to the fireplace and removed several of the unburned logs and placed them on the bed. He then went back for the tinder box on the mantle and lit a taper. He then went back to the bed and carefully started a fire. With that done he again left by means of the window.
Half an hour later Joram had repeated the process another five times before he came to a window on the other side of the keep that led to the library. There were several zombies wondering around in there, but they were easily dispatched from this realm. After doing so he went to the doors that led to the library and closed them. He then proceeded to barricade them so that the remaining zombies in the castle couldn't easily beat the doors open.
Now it was time to peruse the library. He didn't have much time, but he soon found several sections that looked interesting. One of them was a section on herbologie and healing. That would come in useful. So he took several of the more extensive volumes and shoved them into his magical shoulder satchel.
He also found a section on trades. Wood working, stone working, engineering, gem cutting, astrology, tailoring, and carpentry, were among the volumes he found. So he took them and put them in his shoulder satchel. Again, he silently thanked his father for this amazing gift.
Looking around once more, he realized that he should hurry, for there was now smoke seeping into the library from the main doors. On his way out though, one particular section caught his interest. Wizardry.
And so it was that Joram left the library half an hour later, coughing and spluttering, though grinning from ear to ear. He had definitely found a treasure trove of knowledge that he had been able to exploit. He felt somewhat guilty for burning down such a huge library, but shrugged it off. This place needed a whole new start; nothing could remain.
He took the descent slowly. Mainly because he couldn't climb down nearly as well as he could climb up, but also because he didn't want to drop in the middle of a gathering of zombies. He didn't think that they would want to be anywhere near such a large fire, being somewhat flammable themselves, but he had seen odder things that day.
So he was greatly relieved that there were no zombies anywhere near where he was when he dropped the last ten feet to the ground. The castle had taken quite nicely to the fire. Though none of the other buildings would catch fire, they were just too far away. So, making up his mind to help, he set about lighting the buildings in the immediate area on fire. It felt good to help.
When he got to the merchant's district, he paused. There were many valuable things in this section of the city. There really wasn't any wind out today, so the fires wouldn't reach it for at least an hour. He smiled to himself. Loot!
He first visited the goldsmith section. There he found many different types of jewellery. Bracelets, necklaces, rings, etc… He perused for a short while, taking what he thought looked really nice. He then over to a gem cutters' shop. There were several nice gems on display. He took those, and went in the back to find some equipment and maybe a stash of gems too. Again, he left very happy. He had acquired many of the tools he would need if he ever took up gem cutting. He had also found a large safe with a lot of gold and gems inside.
It was now fairly smoky in this district. He guessed that it was time to start heading on. As he made his way around the block something again caught his eye. It was a sign that depicted a set of scales and some gold and silver coins. That deserved inspection.
So he went in the large building for a peek. Inside there were several closed off booths with bars on the front of the counter. Off to the right there were a few decaying pieces of what looked like a person or two. That wasn't good. Neither were the rasping grunts he was hearing. He turned to the left to see seven zombies making their way to him.
He sighed. At least they were moving like proper zombies. He then drew both swords and waited for the group to elongate somewhat. A couple of the zombies were in a more advanced state of decomposition than the rest, so they would lag behind somewhat.
The first of the zombies reached out and took a swing at him. He ducked underneath the swing and swung his sword out horizontally, taking it down at the knees. It didn't seem to mind because it was now going to fall on its' victim. But Joram was already moving to the right as the creature fell face first onto the stone floor. With a sickening… suction like splatting sound its head popped open and the contents spewed themselves across the floor.
Now Joram was really glad that he had gotten out of the way. That really stank.
The next few zombies each took swings at him while he dodged around the room. He then doubled back on one of the zombies and took its head off with a quick mid air spin. When he landed though he slipped on some of the gore and went down hard. With the air blasted out of his lungs, it took him a moment to get to his feet. By that time though, he was surrounded, and the zombies were closing in too fast for his liking.
So Joram sheathed his swords, formed a quick couple on hand seals, and jumped out of their midst. Immediately upon landing he sprinted back to get a few shots at the zombies before they had a chance to turn around all the way. And so another three went down. That left two.
The two were so decomposed that they could hardly be recognized as once being human. It didn't matter to them though, they were going to be able to smash and tear the life out of another hated human. Unfortunately that human still had two sharp swords, and their desires were thwarted at the same time that their heads were removed from their respective bodies.
With the dirty work done, Joram went about the place looking for more loot. He wasn't disappointed. He soon found, at the back of the building, a large metal door that had several locks on it. He then stood there for a while and inspected the scene. He wasn't at all good with picking locks, and he wasn't about to try and back in a door that opened outwards…. Wait. It opened outwards. With a grin as wide as it ever had been, he went over to the hinges on the door and began pounding out the supporting bolts. Soon enough he had the bolts out and the door open.
There then came forth a mighty stench. Coughing somewhat, he entered the large room. Over to the right was the body of some unfortunate soul that had been trapped in the room when the door had closed. He was leaning against one of the walls, mostly slumped over. At least he thought it had been a 'he'; the clothes were made for a male at any rate. Looking over the rest of the room, he was sorely disappointed to find only a couple handfuls of gold, silver and copper strewn about the room. Every shelf and box had been emptied.
Joram shook his head again. That was becoming a habit. He then went over to the corps and looked it over. It was mostly decomposed now, only having some flesh here and there clinging to the bones. The hands were already mostly dried out as they lay to the sides of the body. Upon closer inspection of the right hand, he could see a patch of jet black cloth folded up. So he reached down and tugged it free murmuring an apology to the dead man. Even though a dead man had been holding it for who knows how long, the cloth still had a dark shimmer to it. Well, at least it looked pretty.
With that thought still going through his head, he left the vault and headed out to the street. This fires had gotten very close by this time, and the smoke was quite thick. Deciding not to explore and loot anymore, Joram quickly made his way to one of the rooftops nearby that had not yet caught fire.
Soon enough he was on his way out of town. He was confident that the town would burn to the ground given a day or two. That would, hopefully, get rid of a fair number of the undead host that had plagued the region. As he got to one of the gates he stopped. Wouldn't hurt to close them. That way maybe a few more zombies would burn to death, well, a proper death anyway.
Once on the ground he put his back into closing the gate. After straining for a while of fruitless straining, he thought it over. Maybe if he just dropped the portcullis instead of closing the gates…. So he went in search of the device that lowered the large iron grate. It wasn't hard to find, there only being two gate houses to chose from, and only one large enough to house the mechanism.
With a wary peek around the corner of the door, Joram went in and approached the crank. He studied it for a while, taking in the good work that had gone into making it. At length he just went up to the crank and pulled the latch that released the wheel. The wheel spun faster and faster as the portcullis dropped from above and slammed down hard. He was starting to feel rather pleased with himself. He was single handedly taking out a large portion of the remaining zombies and had killed the necromancer that had been responsible for the undead scourge.
Unfortunately, all the noise from the dropping and landing of the portcullis had attracted many unwanted visitors. There's gotta be a couple hundred of the things approaching. Damn. Ah, well. Time to climb. Joram thought to himself as he again took up climbing. Maybe he would try climbing the mountains to the east one of these days....
From atop the wall he had a great view of he burning city. It was only a couple hours past mid day, but it looked as though it were dusk already. It seemed fitting that night should fall on the city as it was finally allowed to die properly.
Time seemed to flow by for him in the next few months. He secretly went about putting zombies to final rest wherever he found them, making sure that none of the groups of soldiers found him. When he came across Cam's band he decided to follow it until they reached Belancourt. Once there he stayed around the east road waiting for Cam and the others to show up.
It was midwinter by the time Cam's group came along. The winters weren't too harsh in this region, so he didn't mind tarrying there for the two months it took for them to show up. In the time he had been out there, he had had some time to practice some of the skills found in the many volumes of knowledge he had pilfered from the library of Aries. One of the things he had practiced was woodworking and carpentry.
Given time to relax, somewhat, he was able to go through all the things he had pilfered from Aries. There were many forms of jewellery, gems, coins and other valuable items. He took out the black shimmering cloth that he found in that vault with the dead guy. It seemed to be folded up many times over. It really was beautiful, so he felt somewhat bad for having used it as a hanky a few times. When he unfolded it he found that it was not what it seemed. It was like some sort of hole that was filled almost to the top with gold, gems, and jewellery and fine pieces of art. He was totally flabbergasted. He had been using something like this to blow his nose on?! He would have to remember to ask Katreen about this thing the next time he spoke with her. He just hoped it wouldn't be too soon. With that though, he again stashed it in his boot top and continued on with his day.
During his down time, he had found a nice little place a day and a half away from the capital that suited his needs nicely. It was at the rocky side of a hill not too far away from the road. He was able to monitor the little traffic that went by on the road while working at improving his skills. By the time it came time to leave, Joram had built a small cabin and some furniture to fill the makeshift home.
He decided to follow the group for the rest of the day, making sure that they didn't notice him. It wasn't easy though. Some of them, namely Brom and Blake, had gotten really good at noticing the little things around them. He was sure that they hadn't seen him though.
By the time night fell, which was quite early these days, the small group had found a place to camp. It was in a cluster of pine trees that had managed to fend off most of the snow in their midst. It was a really nice spot actually. Out of the wind, and the trees would hide the light from their campfire really well.
A couple of sentries were set up while the others attended their horses and started to get some food cooking. While they were doing that, Joram prepared a sack full of treasure for his childhood friend. By the time food was being served Joram had finished his preparations. He would wait until Cam went on watch. Cam always liked second watch best. Joram didn't know why, but that was one watch Cam always volunteered for. He just hoped that he would take it this night.
Several hours passed while the band of friends chatted to times past and times to come. Several were planning on getting married as soon as they got back to their homes. Joram smiled wistfully at the thought. He hadn't thought those kinds of thoughts for months now. When the pang of sorrow hit, Joram remembered why he hadn't thought about it much. Thinking of marrying someone just to watch them grow old and die wasn't something that he wanted to think about. Especially when he thought of Monica. He wanted to remember her as being young and full of life.
That was why he had also been learning how to draw. He wanted to be able to see her beautiful face whenever he needed to. He was planning on going back to X'atur so that he could observe her and finally make a good drawing of her that someone could use as a template for a portrait.
At length he pulled himself out of his sad reverie and took note of the time. Second watch would start soon. So he got up to walk around for a while so that he could warm up his legs somewhat. They had gotten cold while he sat there thinking. Re-focusing, he used one of the jutsu he had learned long ago to warm himself up. It more or less involved using his chakra to warm his skin up. It was quite a useful technique to know.
Joram shook his head. Why was he letting his mind wander so much? He thought to himself as he went back to the area of his friend's camp. Once there it took him a while to spot Cam hiding under a pine near the edge of the ring of trees. Joram grinned to himself.
He was still grinning when he sat down beside Cam. Cam didn't seem to think that that was all that funny because suddenly Joram had a drawn bow aimed at his heart.
"Don't think that'll do much good my friend." Joram said, still grinning his cocky grin.
For his part, Cam just about fell over in shock. "You're still alive!" He whispered hoarsely, eyes bugging out.
"No." Joram got an evil idea. "I'm Joram's ghost that has been searching for you. You let me die...." He said, trying very hard not to laugh while trying to sound ghostlike. Well, what he thought a ghost should sound like anyway.
Cam let the arrow fall to the ground all the while giving Joram a horrified look. Then, all of a sudden, he whipped his bow around and clubbed Joram up side the head.
"Idiot! What are you doing here?" He asked while making sure his bow hadn't taken any undue damage from the clubbing.
"I thought to say good-bye properly this time." Joram said while rubbing his head. "I even brought you a good-bye present." He said while handing over the sack to Cam.
Puzzled, Cam reached into the bag and pulled out several pieces of jewellery. He gave Joram an incredulous look. "Where did you get these?"
"Well, I wanted to do some sightseeing while I burnt down Aries, and I found a few shops that still had a few things in them...." Joram trailed off as Cam just stared at him.
"You mean you looted the place?"
"Well, yeah. I didn't want it all to go to waste." Joram explained.
"Well done my friend!" Cam exclaimed, clapping a hand over his mouth. He quickly looked over at the camp to see if anyone had stirred. Safe.
"I mean, that was brilliant. I wish that I had had the chance."
"Don't. I got quite messy." Joram said while shaking his head. "Anyway, I wanted you to have some of the loot, and to make sure that Monica has enough to do her and her family."
"Wow, you became even more considerate!" Cam stated in mock astonishment.
"Funny. I also wanted you to give these to her as well." He said as he pulled the katana and wakasashi, he had made, from his shoulder satchel and handed them to his friend.
Cam took them silently. He spent a moment looking them over in the dim moonlight. "You know that Lord Dimitri has declared you dead."
"Yeah, I figured he would do something like that. Kenneth had warned me that he would want me dead, that's why I decided to disappear."
"Nice." Cam said, now his turn to shake his head. "Everyone back home will believe you dead as well."
"That isn't entirely a bad thing my friend." Joram said, now sounding more serious. "You can tell them what you like about how you got my swords. But make sure that Monica knows that I wanted her to have them."
"I don't think that I'll want any sharp objects around when I tell her though...." Cam said with some of his old humour.
"I'd guess not." Joram said with a quiet chuckle. "Well my friend. It is time that I head out again, this time permanently. You won't see me again."
"You just don't go getting yourself killed uselessly now, you hear?" Cam said.
"Can't do that. I'd lose points." Joram said with a quiet laugh. Cam just stared at him with an odd look in his eye. "Fare you well my friend." He said as he leaned close and gave his best friend one last bear hug.
"Have some adventures for me." Cam said as he watched his friend melt away into the night.
Joram spent the next several months working on his drawing when he wasn't either hunting or sleeping. He has gone back to Belancourt to acquire some sticks of charcoal that he had seen artists using, as well as some sticks of graphite. He also bought several hundred sheets of fine paper. The poor shop owner had thought that he was joking until he had dropped a small sack full of coins on the counter. He had been very obliging then.
So by the time planting season came around again, Joram deemed himself good enough to try and draw Monica. So after he packed his things and boarded the place up, Joram struck east along the road. He kept his cloak up and swords hidden. As far as he knew, he was the only one in the area to use those kinds of swords. He didn't want any complications to arise. Complications; like people thinking he had risen from the dead. That wouldn't be a good thing.
Eventually he found himself skirting the village of Anthus, taking note of how well they seemed to have rebuilt. He was happy for them. They deserved to have some peace and quiet after what had happened the year before. He even spotted a couple of the men that had been in his squad. One of them was with a very pregnant young lady. Joram smiled. At least one of them had attained their goal already.
Soon, though, he passed the last of the houses. He kept on going at a good pace so that he could reach is destination all the sooner. It wouldn't be long before he reached X'atur.
This first sign that he was close was the wood smoke he smelt in the air. He started to feel somewhat nostalgic. It wasn't anything special, just the thought of it being from home that made him feel that way. Soon he came into view of the houses, and that was his cue to get off the road. He really didn't want anyone to see him. That would pose him no end of troubles.
So he made his way around the southern edges of the village that had once been home, all the while looking at the changes that had taken place. As with Anthus, the burnt down houses had been removed. Though only a few of them had started to be rebuilt, all in various stages of completion. Here one needed the windows and whitewash added, there one was still mostly bones, so to speak.
What really caught his attention was the large stone obelisk like thing in the middle of the village green. It was no more than eight or so feet tall, but it was about two and a half feet wide at its base, tapering off to about a foot at the top. It had four sides to it, and was resting on a wide base of stone. The whole thing looked as though it was made of black granite. Which was odd, since black granite was only found in the hills further east of here, and that was a day and a half away to boot. Deciding to try his luck, Joram performed a minor jutsu that made him look like someone else entirely.
With that done he proceeded to wonder into the village towards the obelisk.
There were a number of people around, all going about their daily lives. A few stopped briefly to look at the stranger for a moment before continuing along their way. When he got there he inspected the finely chiselled names that were to be found on the west side of the stone.
They were the names of all of the people who had died in the past year. He stood there for a time, remembering those who had fallen. He remembered when Kent down with an orcish sword in his gut. Kent had sobbed briefly for his mother. He remembered when Terry was taken down. He had been firing off arrows as fast as he could at the advancing orcs, but hadn't been fast enough to get behind the line of his friends before two spears had found his back.
Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. He read the other names to be found on the long list. There was the mayor Len, Sarah's husband. There were other names of people he hadn't even known very well, but he shed tears for them too. Then he was the name of his father. It wasn't even his full name. He couldn't blame them though, nobody except he had known it. With a quick look around to make sure nobody was paying too close attention, Joram concentrated some chakra into his index finger and a little beyond. He then proceeded to fill in the rest of his name. It wasn't in the same style as the rest of the name, but it was close enough.
With that done he heaved a sigh. Then he looked at the last name. It was his. They had even included his new title of 'Sir'. Guess he had made someone proud. He really didn't want to be remembered as a 'Sir', so he took his finger and wiped the stone clean of the title. He then marked the symbol of Katreen there in its stead. Shaking his head, and wiping away his tears, he turned to leave and walked full on into someone. Apologizing profusely he helped the woman up. It was Monica. She spent another moment gathering the fallen flowers, so she missed his shocked and stunned look.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to walk into you like that." She said as she stood up from picking up the rest of the flowers.
"Ah, that's ok. It was my fault for, ah, not looking where I was going, heh, heh...." Joram stammered.
"Sorry, but I don't recognise you. Are you from Anthus?"
"Oh, ah, yeah! I was just, ah, visiting the home of the local heroes is all, heh, heh." He said, laughing weakly, trying to diffuse his tension.
"Oh, I see." Monica said. This guy seemed somewhat familiar.
"Yeah, so, ah, I'll be going now. Have a good day!" He said as he ran off and turned around the side of a house where he promptly jumped up on the roof to avoid being followed by Monica.
"That was strange." Monica said to herself as she turned back to the memorial stone and placed the flowers she had gathered at its base. Noting a slight odour, she inspected the area around herself. Finding nothing that had burnt, she again turned to the obelisk. She read through the names again, as she always did when she came here. She smiled sadly when she came to her father's name. She read on and abruptly stopped when she came to Jirin's name. There, burnt right into the stone, was what looked like, the rest of his name.
She again turned around, this time to look for the stranger. But he was out of sight. Who was he? How had he known Jirin? How had he known Jirin's full name? She didn't know, nor anyone else in the area she had spoken to, his full name, and he had been like a second father to her. She again shook her head and turned, yet again, back to the tall stone in front of her. When she looked at the name there she just about had a fit.
That stranger had erased Joram's title and replaced it with some sort of odd symbol! She was going to throttle that man the next time she saw him! With that she stormed off back to her house.
Boy she looked angry. Joram observed as he watched Monica storm off after looking at the obelisk yet again. He would have to remember to change his disguise if he wandered back into town in the next few months.
With those thoughts in his head he hopped down from the roof and headed south. He would be able to find a suitable place to stay while he tarried for the next few months. So an hour later he had set himself up nicely beside yet another hill, between several large boulders. He then went about collecting pine and spruce branches to make the framework of his new roof. Once that task was completed, he went in search of reeds and long grassed that he would need to make this temporary shelter liveable for a few months.
It was the end of the day before he had gathered enough materials to do the job. So he spent the next several hours working with what he had to finish the job before it was time to sleep. He stopped then. He could have sworn he felt something. Sensed something. Looking around intently for several minutes, he finally spotted a fox making its way by.
It was getting very odd, getting these weird sensations whenever something went by. It was like he could feel it when something came near him. Almost like he could feel their life force. It was a very odd sensation. He would have to experiment more with this.
More time passed for him as he worked on his little shelter. He spent his time observing Monica and trying to capture her spirit on paper, and trying to get his sixth sense working more accurately. It was very hard, in both cases. On the one hand, he wasn't as good as he wanted to be at drawing; and on the other, it was hard to practice feeling where an animal was because it kept on moving. In both cases though, he kept up his hard work. He was never one to give up when the going got tough.
Then one day something happened. Cam had gone over to visit with Monica like he usually did a couple times a week. But this time he held her hand for most of their, albeit short, visit. His heart suddenly seemed to be as heavy as lead. He found it hard to breath properly. What was this sensation he was feeling? This feeling that hurt, and left him feeling empty?
Over the next two months Joram observed his best friend, and his best friend. He watched them slowly grow closer and closer to each other. After a while he could take it no longer. He was going to kill something.
Later that night, Joram appeared in a shadow in a clearing a day to the east of where his camp lay. The cave up ahead was where a clan of orcs resided. There was a frightening glow in Joram's eyes as he strode to the cave entrance.
Near dawn there was again movement at the cave mouth. A dark figure with blood smeared across its face, rips and tears crisscrossing its clothes, emerged. It held a long, slender, curving sword that was still sticky with the blood of many victims.
Joram made his way to the stream near by, walking as though in a daze. Once he got there he dropped onto his knees in the shallow stream, bowed his head, and began to cry. He was there well past dawn, crying silent tears. He had heard the curses of the males, and the pleas of the females and children. He hadn't heeded their pleas though. He had slaughtered them all, male, female, and childling.
He looked up at the clear blue sky above his head and wondered what kind of person he had become? Sure, they were monsters, and they would have gladly killed him had they had a chance; but that was what they were. They were what they were. Was he now something like them? Something that killed indiscriminately, not caring who or what died, just so long as his bloodlust was sated?
He shook his head and sadly, then plunged it into the refreshing stream. No. He wasn't like that. He had to get over this misplaced sense of betrayal and loss. Hadn't he been the one to leave Monica? Hadn't he been the one to leave Cam and the others? Hadn't it been he that had requested that Cam take the tale of his death back to X'atur for the others to hear? Hadn't he wanted them to be happy? So who was he to argue that they had come together? It kind of made sense. Both had experienced loss, and both probably needed a friend. Wouldn't it be natural that something form between the two? Again, who was he to argue?
With those thoughts in mind, and the depression and hurt still surrounding him, he decided to release it. So he focused all his feelings of hurt, betrayal, anger, loss, and emptiness into his hands and threw the angry, swirling, black, red and green ball of energy at the closest boulder. The poor boulder was so thoroughly blown up that there wasn't anything larger than his hand that remained.
Wow. He would have to remember how he had done that. He felt much better, and without those negative feelings blocking his judgement and well being, he heaved a sigh of relief. He could now face another day. Maybe two if he didn't go near Monica and Cam for the next little while. He still needed time to accept things, though he was confident that he wouldn't go on another killing spree any time soon.
Looking down at himself, he finally was able to see what a mess he looked. This would take some time to clean. With a sigh, he stripped down, washed his clothes, and laid them out in the sun to dry as he enjoyed sitting in a deeper pool of water. It wasn't too cold, and was starting to warm up again as the sun went higher and higher into the sky.
Now that he had calmed down, he was quite tired. He made his way over to where his clothing lay and let the warm sun dry him off. He must have dozed off while leaning against a boulder because when he again opened his eyes, the sun was on the other side of the sky. Well, at least he was dry now. Upon inspection, he found that his clothes were dry too. That was good, because he hated wearing wet clothes. They bunched up in all the wrong places.
So it was that Joram made his way home that night, feeling much better with himself. Well, regarding the issue with Monica and Cam anyway. He still felt kinda bad for wiping out an entire clan of orcs. He tried justifying it by telling himself that it was good in the long run, that they would have attacked other innocent people. It didn't help much.
The following evening he was again practicing his drawing skills in the shelter of his little home. It was a little odd trying to draw at night, but he just kept on going. He could see really well in the moonlight after all. So why stop just because it got dark outside?
By the time harvest came Joram had several prospective sketches that could be used for a portrait. He had gotten rather good at drawing. He had practiced on everything in sight, the birds, squirrels, rabbits, deer, a bear or two, and of course the people of X'atur. Especially Monica. He had even done a few of both Cam and Monica. It helped him to work through things as he tried to draw them together, both being happy. It wasn't easy at first, but he grew to understand and accept they way things had turned out. He was even silently praying for their happiness. When he found out that the couple were going to get married in a week's time, he came up with a plan.
Four days later an artist came into town trying to sell sketches of various people and landscapes. He soon became a hit among the people of the small town. The young girls thought that the tall blonde man was quite dashing. How romantic was it that he could draw people and capture their look of happiness on paper? So very romantic.
Joram really tried hard not to get cornered by one of the young women of the village. It was awkward being there, but he wanted to do this one last thing for his friends. He knew that he had made promise after promise not to return, but he couldn't help himself.
So Monica came up to him one day and asked that he could draw both her and Cam on the day of their wedding. He gladly accepted, refusing all attempts at payment. He said that capturing such a beautiful love on paper was payment enough for him. That was enough to silence Monica's protests, and for that he was glad. Unfortunately, a couple of the young girls overheard the conversation and his reputation as the most romantic guy in town multiplied tenfold. He was hard pressed to avoid being alone when he was anywhere near one of the young girls. It seems wedding fever had struck, and they all wanted to be beautiful brides themselves.
The day of the wedding came. Joram found himself watching the ceremony with a tear in his eye. Not because he was angry that they were getting married, nor because he was sad to see his onetime love move on, but because he was so happy for them. When the ceremony was done he was invited over to his old house, their house, and was asked if he could start the portrait.
As he was setting up he noticed that there were two swords set on the mantle of the fireplace. He grinned. Those were his old swords. "Wow, these are really neat." Joram said as he stood by the swords.
"They are rather unique aren't they?" Cam said as he came over.
"I've only ever seen the like once before" Joram said feigning awe.
"Really? Where?" Monica said, now very interested in the story.
"Oh, it must have been last summer...." he said as though trying to remember. "I think that I might still have a drawing of the young man here some somewhere...." he said as he rooted through his large carrying case.
Neither Cam nor Monica dared say anything. He might have a portrait that they could put up with the swords.
After several minutes of searching, Joram, now known as Dante, pulled out sheet of heavy paper with a look of triumph on his face. "Found it!"
"Let me see!" Monica said as she reached for the coveted paper.
"I don't know," he said as he dodged around her grabs, "It's not very good you see. I was only able to get a quick look at him before he walked off."
With a quick feignt left, then a grab to the right she managed to grab the drawing. Joram sighed and gave up, now regretting having spoken up.
"Wow.... It's wonderful." Monica said in awe. Cam came over and took a look.
"It's very nice. You must be very talented to have drawn this from just a short look." Cam said, obviously impressed at Dante's skill level.
"Well, I did see him in the market a few times." Joram explained nervously while scratching the back of his head. "Anyway, we should get started before it gets much later. As is, I will have to come back tomorrow to finish it off." Monica nodded as she placed the drawing on the mantle and headed over to her chair to continue her modeling.
So the afternoon passed with him both drawing and chatting. The drawing was coming along nicely by the time he had to leave in the early evening. It would only take another couple hours to finish. He was genuinely smiling when he left. He could tell that they would be a good couple. Not that he had much experience in that area, he just had one of those feelings.
There were still people walking around the village, for it was only early evening. He wandered over to the inn to have a bit of a drink before heading off again.
The next day Joram found that he shouldn't have drank so much. His head was somewhat swollen; well, felt swollen anyway. It seemed like his head would pop if he turned around too fast. So he spent the next half hour concentrating enough to be able to heal his headache away with a healing jutsu. With that done, he got himself dressed, used his disguise jutsu, and headed out.
Even though the hangover had been healed, he still had to squint when he left his little shelter. It took him an hour and a half to get back to town this time. Man, drinking too much was definitely a bad thing. The pain alone was enough of a detourant not to do it again.
He stopped by the inn at about mid-morning to get something to eat. Maybe that would help. He felt so drained for some reason. He decided it must have been the drinking. He had never really gotten drunk before, so that must have been it. Sarah came over and served him some leftovers from breakfast along with some water. With how hungry he was, the food had only survived for three minutes.
With a good meal in his belly he was feeling much better. So he paid up and headed out to see if Monica and Cam wanted to finish the portrait that day. It didn't take him long to head over and knock at the door. He seemed to have regained some of his energy from that tasty meal. Even though it was leftovers, it was still way better than what he could make. It was good to eat Sarah's cooking again.
Monica answered the door and invited him in with a warm smile. It seems as though she had been up for a while. Well, she did always get up before me. Joram thought to himself as he again started to work on the portrait.
After another couple of hours he was done. With a big smile he showed it to them.
"Wow! That is absolutely amazing!" Monica said as she beheld the portrait.
"I must say that I have never seen anything like it Dante." Cam said with wonder painted on his face. It looked just like them. He had even managed to catch that special look in Monica's eyes that made her so beautiful.
"How much do we owe you?" Monica asked, still somewhat distracted by the image.
"Oh… nothing. Just think of it as a wedding gift to a beautiful couple." Joram said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.
"Surely there is something we can do for you." Cam said, now somewhat embarrassed accepting this wonderful gift.
"Well…." Joram, Dante, drawled. "You can promise to always be there for one another."
The newlyweds just stared at him blankly.
"I mean, this portrait will go to waste if ever you break up, now won't it?"
"You don't have to worry about us." Cam said, now bursting with confidence.
Monica was giving him an odd look. One of those looks that she gave a puzzle she couldn't figure out.
"So, uh, I'll just take that and put the finishing touched on it and I'll be back tomorrow." Joram said, getting more and more nervous the longer Monica regarded him.
"Sure. No problem. There's no need to hurry, we'll be here." Cam said as Joram/Dante put the portrait away carefully into his pack and headed for the door.
"Have we ever met before?" Monica suddenly asked as he was halfway out the door.
"Have you ever been to Belancourt?"
"No."
"Well, ah, this is the first time I've been here, so you must be mistaken. You might have just met someone who looks like me, heh, heh…." He said and left as quickly as he could.
"What was that about?" Cam asked his beautiful wife.
"I could swear we have met before." She said then suddenly shook her head. "Anyway, I guess he must be right. How could I have ever met him before?"
For the rest of that day and throughout the night, Joram painstakingly copied the portrait. By the time it was done the sun was peeking over the horizon. Face smudged with charcoal, hair hanging down, and eyes bleary, he made his way over to another corner of his workshop. Here, he had prepared a frame and had even bought a very fine pane of glass for this project. He spent the next hour assembling, setting, and finishing the frame.
In a word, it was beautiful. He had even managed to do a couple of touch-ups like he had promised he would do. He then picked up a leather script and placed the portrait and frame inside. With that done he proceeded to, once again, pack up his belongings so that he could leave the region once he delivered the parcel.
It was noon by the time Joram found himself, once again in the guise of Dante, knocking on the door of his old house. This time it was Cam who opened the door to greet him. Or would have, if Joram had been there. A split second before the door opened, Joram leapt straight up and landed lightly on the roof. So all that Cam found was the leather script on the front step.
Curious, Cam stepped out to see if he could find Dante, but to no avail. Shrugging, he picked up the leather folder/case thingy and went inside. Joram moved to the side of the house that had the window to the living room and looked through, up side down.
Cam met Monica there as he was taking the portrait and frame out of the script. She gasped at what she saw. I was beautiful. The frame was made from a light oak with a bees wax finish, making the vine carvings along the frame almost glow in the light that came through the window Joram was at. She then proceeded to take it to the mantle and stand it up in front of the swords. Joram also noticed that she had placed the sketch of himself with the swords. That made him smile somewhat. With that he took his leave.
The night was moonless, nevertheless there was enough light to see by from the multitude of stars shining down from above. The light shone down on a lone castle that stood in the middle of a small lake. The castle had many towers behind its tall and dark walls, but only one held any light in it this night.
Outside one of the windows that was alight that night, there stood a dark figure. From what could be seen of the figure, it looked like a human. The shoulders were too broad to be an elf, too tall to be a halfling or dwarf, and too well dressed to be an orc or some such. It had one slightly curved sword on its back, the hilt sticking up over its right shoulder, and another shorter one that was at the small of its back, angled so that the hilt was just above the left kidney.
The figure wore all black and had a black cloth covering his face below his eyes, for it was definitely not a girl that stood there. Not saying that a girl wouldn't look good in that outfit, but the person was missing the curves that would identify it as a girl. He was also sporting a rather unique diadem.
Joram stood by the window watching the foul wizard that had been kidnapping the townsfolk for his petty experiments. As he watched, the wizard in dark blue robes took another vial of silvery black powder and poured it in intricate designs on the floor. Was the wizard making some sort of portal?
It didn't matter though, because it looked like he planned on sacrificing all those people in that cell in the corner. There was already one dead person in the corner by the time he had gotten all the way up here. It looked as though the wizard had used the person's blood as one of the reagents for his spell, for there was blood all over the table that the wizard kept on going back to to get one component or another.
Joram couldn't wait any longer. Even after all these years, he couldn't stay calm when he knew that others were in danger. As silent as death, Joram made his way through the window. Unfortunately, the wizard must have put an alarm spell around the room, for as his foot touched the ground a loud chirping noise started to go off.
Not waiting for the wizard to notice him standing there, Joram started to run to the wizard to finish him off. Unfortunately the wizard reacted faster than he thought. He pulled a wand from his robes and shouted a word of command. A lightning bolt as thick as his leg shot out and hit him in the chest, flinging him out the window he had just come through. He really had to stop underestimating the reaction time of his foes. It kept on getting him killed.
Joram fell the hundred feet or so to the courtyard below and landed with a crunch/splat sound. Katreen was standing there beside the unfortunate warrior shaking her head. With a wave of her hand Joram seemed to flow back into his proper proportions. He blinked.
"That wasn't a good one, was it?" Joram asked with a bit of shame in his voice.
"Not at all."
"Don't I get any points for a perfect landing?"
"Nope."
"How many did I lose?"
"Thirty."
Joram seemed to deflate at that. "That's gonna take me another fifty years to get back…." He sighed to himself.
"At least." Katreen said with a mischievous smile. "You might want to consider coming over to work on a... make up… project to get some points back." She said as she ran a finger along his strong jaw.
"Ah, that's ok. I'll just have to make it up tonight by slaying that foul wizard!" He said as he struck a heroic pose.
Katreen just laughed. That's why she liked him so much. He always made her laugh. "You just take care of yourself. Even though I like to see you and visit with you, I do have other matters that need attending to." She said as she faded from sight.
"What a lady." Joram said to himself as he picked himself up out of the indentation that he had made in the courtyard.
"I hope this works." Joram said to himself as he bit his thumb, smeared the blood across his palm, and started to perform a series of hand seals at lightning speed.
He had spent the past fifty years trying to get this technique. Actually, he had learned the technique quickly, but had spent those years searching for the one whom he would make a contract with. So after fifty years, many deaths, pleading, fighting and just plain stubbornness, he was able to find and make a contract with that most rare dragon. The platinum dragon. The progenitor of the goodly dragons.
"Kuchiyose no jutsu!" He yelled, pointing his open palm at the ground. There was a sudden explosion of dust and fog right below him that extended out from under him at a rapid rate. Soon he was being lifted into the air at an alarming speed. Soon he was a good thirty feet off the ground and standing on the head of a huge dragon. Said dragon's head just so happened to be laying on its own back as it was curled up in a foetal position for sleep. It woke up.
"What am I doing here?" It asked. When it spoke there was a deep rumble that rattled Joram's teeth.
"I need your help!" Joram said from on top of its head.
"Oh, it's you." The dragon said in a bored tone of voice. "Can't you see I'm sleeping?"
Joram was dumbstruck. He didn't know what to say to that.
"You could have at least called someone else. I mean, what do you need me for anyway?" The dragon continued to berate Joram.
"I don't know how to summon anyone else!" He finally said in exasperation.
Joram proceeded to get his first lesson in summoning since he had visited Konoha fifty years previous. At least he now knew how to summon other kinds of goodly dragons. It only took a few minutes, mainly of telling him to add this seal or that seal to the combination to get another type of dragon.
"As interesting as all this is, I really need your help to get back to the top of that tower to fight that crazy wizard."
Joram suddenly felt very afraid for some reason.
"You mean you summoned me here just to help you get to the top of a tower?" This question was asked in a very soft and angry voice.
"Yes-No-no-no-no-no!" Joram spluttered trying to explain. "The wizard up there is very powerful and I need you to take care of him while I save the people he is going to sacrifice!"
"Why didn't you say that people were in danger boy? Hold on!" He bellowed as he uncurled faster that his bulk would suggest he could, and leapt into the sky. Joram was flattened against the dragon's head as gravity seemed to suddenly multiply under his feet. Then he was weightless as the dragon suddenly stopped moving upwards. He hung in the air for a second before he was head-butted through one of the tower windows. He landed next to the cage that had held the people just as the wizard hurried to the window to see what had made all that noise.
Joram stood up as he shook the fog from his head. He had hit it pretty good when he had landed. His eyes cleared up enough to see that the wizard had already gathered all the remaining people together in the central circle of power. There was some sort of energy barrier keeping the terrified people from fleeing.
Damn it! He didn't know enough about magic yet to know how to counteract the barrier's magic.
The wizard let off a lightning bolt at the dragon then ran back to the center of the room where he saw Joram waiting for him.
"It's too late you fool!" He cried as he aimed the wand at the floor and spoke the work of power to release the powerful bolt at the complex circles of power drawn on the floor in many different shades of powders. The people in the central circle screamed like nothing he had ever heard before. Then they exploded/vaporized into a blood red mist. A gate or portal of some sort immediately began to form while the wizard laughed maniacally.
Joram didn't want to see this most unholy portal fully develop, nor did he want to know where led to, so he began for form the necessary hand seals that (they would normally open his own portal), he hoped, would be able to close this portal. As he worked to mould the huge amounts of chakra needed he saw the wizard being pulled from the tower by one of the dragons' paws. He grinned at that, but it didn't last long. He began to feel as though he had done something terribly wrong.
With that feeling now fully developed, the portal began to hum in a rather disturbing manner. What's more, it started to suck everything into itself. Before he could even think to grab onto something, he was pulled inside the portal. It felt as though every nerve ending had, all at once, frozen, burned, torn, and blown up. The worst thing was, he didn't fall unconscious.