Howdy dear readers.
After the latest chapter, may I say that sentimentality was never my forte? Oh well, I tried.
Not only that, my aseptic writing revels in these two characters (am I the only one thinking that Asgore hides his disheartenment under a facade smile?). I know it might get somewhat boring, but on the other hand, an old acquaintance will make its appearance (not in this chapter but the next).
Of course, according to someone I am probably taking all the fun away from Frisk. Duly noted, but still there are some things that a child should not see. I did not rate it "M" for anything. Anyway, I have not forgotten them, after all Frisk has set in motion the events I am narrating. Fear not, they will have their appearance too, and their importance will grow accordingly (in a prospective sequel).
So, without further ado, I give you the seventh chapter, pacier than the previous one. Enjoy the read.
;-)
Chapter VII – Surging Exaltation
With the fourth soul now secured, Ioreon had to motivate the protruding roots in the narrow slit to crush the stone around them and enlarge it enough so to pass through it. A snow spray, now tumbling down the knees of a broad peak, marked their escape.
They found themselves standing on a sort of pseudo-mountain, fused at the summit with the vault of Ebott, hidden from sight, emerging white hooded, crowned with gray clouds and girded by bare and steep flanks. A gust of cold wind lashed face and hands of Asgore, glimpsing the dense fog below in the valley and small snowflakes dotting the sky. His mood was not so much warmer than those icy slopes.
"Only one place comes to mind with this kind of climate," Asgore said. The King cracked his shoulder joints, aching for the long ascent. "Snowdin is near."
"Aye, albeit 'tis far hence."
"It does not matter, anything is better than staying here," the King said dismissively.
"As thou wish," the spirit replied bluntly, still not wanting to aggravate matters further. He promptly strode sideways, keeping the high peak to the left, heading where the slope went down. Once again, they made tracks.
The thick mantle of snow, unperturbed by the levitating Ioreon, opened up to Asgore's gait, resolved like a snowplow. The mountainside deceived them with that short stretch of slight declivity, broken several times into craggy asperities. Drafts whistled through the cracks where the King clung to, in order to reach the opposite edges. Although his thick fur protected him, he shuddered whenever his clawed feet scraped ice sheets.
With a little luck and lots of patience, they landed on the undermost mountain pass, where spruces thrived and the way was walkable. Flailing between stings of leafy branches against the body, Ioreon unscathed and Asgore bruised and shivering, they reached relatively quickly an old beaten path, interspersed with fallen boulders.
Although in the Underground there was no sun, by the time they arrived to more uniformed traits, after shrubs and ruggedness, strangely that little light that lingered had fatally obscured itself. The forest grew sparser, and already they could see the entry for Waterfall on their left and houses silhouettes on their right. Snowdin awaited just beyond a light mist.
watch?v=D0Q-fj6mV3U ("Snowdin Town" Undertale Orchestral)
"I have never been so happy to see the town," Asgore said, shaking off the snow on the head.
"By the look on thy face, it seemeth not so," Ioreon said, receiving a snort from Asgore as a response. "In sooth delight is priceless in this place, but cold clambereth tenaciously, wherefore we'd better ensconce. Thou saidest about Grillby's, if I recall well."
"You remember well. It is spacious and provided with a replete pantry. Perhaps it is our only guarantee against frostbites."
"Thereanent, the Underground ceas'd to be a hospitable place. Venturest with discretion. In the meantime I shall try the surroundings, for I cannot clearly perceive the next soul, amidst all this ice and stone."
"Are you serious?" Asgore raised a puzzled eyebrow. "Come on, you've already done more than enough Ioreon. Take your time, you have every right to relax yourself a bit!"
"There are no pangs of hunger, nor grips of thirst, nor weight of fatigue vexing those living in the Hyperuranion, so worry not. I shall search around hither and yon the soul, but I shan't relieve thee of the onus and honor to recover them all, mifriend. 'Tis justly a courtesy to thee, for thou hast enough problems to lose."
"Ioreon, botheration!"
"Complain not for once thou hast not to work. The warmth shall do well at least."
"You are the only one that has not stood still so far." The King shrugged. "Well, I will do as you say."
"Aye, thou oughtest to, and thou shouldst eke warm what is thereout and above all what layeth inside thyself. Fare thee well now, I take my leave of thee. I shall come to Grillby's anon."
So, after saying goodbye, Asgore reluctantly went on alone, moving past the last patch of haze.
The town laid placid, immersed in the white stillness of snow-covered hills. The wind no longer beat, the buzz of people was not heard anymore, as well as doors opening out and banging, the crackle of campfires and the sizzle of lamps. Although no lights brightened it, nevertheless the savored atmosphere of lightness had never abandoned Snowdin.
As he walked towards the renowned pub, memories of when he visited his eagerly awaiting subjects, dressed as Santa Claus, resurfaced. The sight of the two skelebros' house managed to get a smile out of him. Every abode was now empty, but his mind still sought the squeaking lanterns moved by the wind and the lights of the fair.
The snow kept on falling, falling from the branches of pine trees that he imagined adorned with the most garish decorations. Stomping the sleet, smelling the delicate scent of the hawthorn, it was almost like the ancient perfumes, coming out of windows, still hovered in the neighborhood.
Yet a thought was always there, deterring him to stay serene, tapping in his head.
Nevermore.
Still he remembered the words he heard earlier. His every step was like a drumbeat.
Asgore felt more and more mixed feelings.
Nevermore, a word so ambiguous and so stinging. Even what is around me, it's no more, belonging only to the past.
The footsteps grew wider, the darkness, bolder. He saw lost in the shadows his imponderable melancholy.
None of them has faded though, they just moved elsewhere. It is really worth staying here now, drowning myself in memories when instead I could enliven them in their company?
The more they traveled away from New Home, the stranger that journey became, as if they were rolling headlong into a gloomy valley. Although his few certainties seemed to crumble, he knew he had to keep going for all of them.
But if there were anything that threatened to shake one of the few strong ties that accompanied him until now, it was there. Just before he could reach the wooden walls of Grillby's, he noticed adjacent to it a row of sparse broken twigs, heading to another block of houses.
The traces revealed that something heavy broke them, dragged over them. Sheltered by the sloping roof, they were partially covered with snow, too old to look like something that happened recently. He followed them anyway, suspicious, as would do any good King worried about everything concerning the circumstances of his subjects.
As soon as he saw in the distance the river that flowed peacefully, the twigs ended at a wooden pier, half-buried by the snow. It would not be anything unusual, if not for the crude carvings on it.
His curiosity got the upper hand, and he swept away the snow on the writing with a fiery touch, making it enough clear and understandable.
"Beware of the man… who came… from the other world."
Asgore felt his blood run cold. "Why they felt the need to write such a thing? Who might be this man? What if… No, it can't be…"
His old suspicions, at one time dormant, resurrected with their cruel glare. "It must be a mistake! A bad joke! There's no way it's him!"
He cowered, in hopes of unseeing what he had seen, the lines of writing blurred by the distance. "Maybe it refers to someone else, someone else in fact! But… who else might come from the other world?"
He stumbled, finding himself in front of the twigs, crushed and swept away, which seemed to cry out an attempted crime. One sudden burst of anger tried arrogantly to explode and blow up the pier to pieces, but he suppressed it, terrified at the thought of what happened when he indulged in it long time ago. He strode away.
"They are just the ramblings of a madman, nothing else," he briskly said, aimed at convincing himself.
He let go his held breath only when, after prying the lock open, he entered the pub and slammed the door forcefully.
watch?v=UftuzPUf1EY (Esto Gaza - A Tribute To Final Fantasy IX)
Grillby's resembled a sanctuary, now that the shivering King rekindled the fixed chandeliers and lamps all around with his magic. Almost nothing else was left in there, apart from the bar counter, a few broken tables and chairs and torn pillows, perhaps for the hasty departure of everyone.
He placed the sack on the counter and went on looking for something else remained untouched. The door to his left with 'fire escape' written on it caught his attention. Since no one would have thought to come back here for whatever was beyond it, he decided to open it.
Just in case, he wrapped himself in a cloth of magical flames and turned the doorknob. Nothing happened, except for the clang of the opening door.
After he extinguished the flames, he explored the closet. Apart from the shelves and the hooks on the wall, only the spiraling stairs, probably leading to the pantry, were of interest. He made his way there actually finding something, though much had already succumbed to the clutches of time.
Glamburgers, fries, bacon, eggs, legumes, butter, breads of various shapes, moldy or petrified. And even yet bagged cakes, dried sausages, pumpkin rings, some packet of delicious golden flower tea. Unfortunately, there was not even a bottle of ketchup left, but Asgore had little to complain, those provisions would last for the entire round trip and beyond. He gathered everything he could, climbed the stairs and went again to the ground floor. For once, he desired a worthy feast to forget everything.
He smashed into smaller pieces the table and chairs remains, amassed them roughly in the fireplace to the side and set them on fire. With that last device, Grillby's reached the degree of illumination and warmth that made it so enticing to passersby. He already felt at home.
After pulling out of the sack all the necessary to set up the camp, as he poked once in a while with a stick all sorts of groceries frying in butter, a sudden longing ate away at him.
A strange desire, more than anything. He glanced at the sack for a few moments, but he drew back, looking back at the fireplace.
Then the desire grabbed his sight again, and it became a need. For far too long he neglected them.
He got up and went there, taking out the four containment cylinders, with the four souls floating serene. Very carefully, he carried them to the fireplace and laid them on a soft bed of blankets and cushions prepared as needed. The small glowing hearts trembled, and began to spin, some more vigorously, like that of kindness, and some lethargic, like the souls of perseverance and integrity.
He crouched in front of them, arms resting on his legs. He reserved them a grin as wide as ever, finding consolation right away.
"Howdy my beloved! It has been a long time since I stopped by. I'm sorry for not devoting you the time you deserved, sure it doesn't seem very exciting to stay put in a dark bag. But fear not! Soon Ioreon and I will do the impossible, reunite you together with your bodies, can you imagine that?"
He stood enraptured seeing the soul flinching, their maneuvers inside the cylinders, but they did so whenever he spoke to them, countless times. He watched them unsure, unaware if they managed to understand what he was saying, or even hear his voice at all.
Against all odds, he still tried in hopes of instilling a bit of optimism, though he had a hard time believing it himself.
"It's like one of those fairy tales I told you. Finally a happy ending after a life of great hardship. You'll see again the sun, run through the fields and play football, swim in the sea and ski in the mountains... and you'll have again a mother to embrace. Yes, I will take you all to her. It's been too long since you came here, you are almost a part of a distant era! People will look at you in wonder, as if you had traveled back in time!"
The souls had subsided, leaning against the wall of the cylinder. Then immediately ran around like crazy in their small space, rolling in phenomenal spirals. It nearly broke his heart to see them locked up in there.
"Sometimes I wonder what crossed my mind… Could we have adapted to live bound in the Underground? Or should I have gone myself to look after some frail human, with a frightening power in my hands? In either case, I would have certainly spared you centuries of captivity."
The souls now stopped, and shuddered again. Suddenly they swung, left and right, the green soul the most frantic of all, enough to occasionally bump into the walls.
"Easy, easy! Why are you so agitated? Do not distress yourselves darlings!"
And so they did, standing still in an instant. Asgore gasped in surprise. "Wow! I didn't remember you being so receptive!"
"Thou art having fun, I see."
"What the…" Asgore jumped back, falling to the ground with his own rear. "Ioreon! Why don't you warn me instead of jump scaring me every time?!"
"Accept my apologies," – a giggle slipped out of him – "but 'twas most lovely seeing thee talking with them. I had not the heart to interrupt, yet always loometh that unknown variable that is time. We shall savor this moment and let ourselves a little rest."
"It's about time! You are always so busy, never enjoying a moment of peace..." Asgore refrained from saying anything more, like the newfound suspicions he tried to push in a corner.
"I cannot glean this kind of concept, but I shall try. So then, I descry that the souls have not lost their vitality. Am I right, lads and maidens?"
The souls actually did jump out of their skin, excited by the coming of the spirit.
"I hope I have not scar'd you. Surely, these cylinders are not soundproof."
"Don't say, they can actually hear what we say?" Asgore said, leaning on the mantel of the fireplace to get up.
"Forsooth, they are not deaf! 'Tis certain they apprehend not all the things said, but rather they perceive the tonality of voice, its rhythm, its tone... Not for naught, what they favor the most is melodious singing and harmonious music."
"Oh my, that's great! I did all sorts of things to make them feel not alone! Then about that, my attentions were good for something?" he addressed directly the souls who at that resumed to swing, this time up and down.
"Apparently this is a 'yes'," concluded Ioreon.
"Golly, my fatherly instinct didn't abandon me!" Asgore hopped with joy like a child who just received his first bicycle.
"Clear as the sun you get on quite well, jumping the same way. Thou simply makest more noise, Asgore."
"Hey!"
"Just a joke mifriend. Oh, and what do I spy with my eyes?" Ioreon said, pointing the aforesaid to the frying groceries. "Heavens, thou shan't surely starve! Didst thou find a mine down here?"
"Well, who in his right mind should come back this far to retake it?" Asgore ran his hand through his hair.
"Well well now, I see thy concern, and so be it. Enjoyest a big feed I say and be swift! For thou seemest always incautious with food, unless thou like it well smok'd, thou know."
"A-ha, not this time! Everything is under control!" Asgore flung himself on the handle of the pan and put it on the mantel. "See? Golden just right!"
Ioreon nodded, uttering a snicker of satisfaction. He watched intent Asgore, glee engraved in his face but betrayed by the rue in his eyes staring blankly into space. As usual, a snap of fingers, and a new melody winded the air around.
watch?v=UdpQnjfP-7g (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim OST - Around the Fire)
"Now sadness begone! This place convivial once was, it urgeth for music and applause!" Ioreon declared.
"Another piece of aged music?" Asgore raised his eyebrows and looked at him stunned. "Oh, well, at least it improves the atmosphere!" he said, and let out a hearty laugh. The souls too, as expected, took the opportunity to circle and twirl, dancing in their own way before that one man's play.
A faint sweetness swept away the dullness of the King, swallowing beans sauce, eggs and glamburgers with melted cheese, moving hands and fingers following the tempo. Far were those days of fun and carefree sound, but the hope that he might relive them again one day, and each upcoming day of his life, kept his morale high.
"I know this venture is a trouble to thee, yet gazest at it joyful," the spirit interjected, attracting Asgore's attention. "As 'tis said, that labour we delight in, physicketh pain."
"Even so, this journey started easy and now I find it hard." Asgore did not cease to watch the souls dancing. "Not having understood the nightmare of their broken lives… It just weighs on my conscience. The solutions that came up to me were one worse than the other, my subjects would never accept an unconditional truce. Really, would I had crossed the Barrier to kill with my very hands?"
"Lo! I once again tell thee, thou didst well to wait, on trepidatious hold for the Angel that would prove to every monster that none is lost and peace can be reach'd. It took six of them woe to us, but the seventh hath shown that there is always a glimmer of light. Behold how they brighten'd indeed, too sad would be to relegate them in silence till the end."
After staying up all that time, he eventually sat down next to Asgore, sated by his meal. "Now, no longer feelest bound depending on thy past. Upon opening the Barrier, thou receiv'd then not a death sentence, besmirch'd in blood alone, but a life lesson, rewarded with freedom!"
Although his echoing voice was still expressionless, a clear laugh from his heart had a taste of spontaneity that almost shook him, in a good way. Asgore relaxed his muscles, and let out a mighty yawn, happy with the course taken by their stay.
Calmness now settled, the souls also tried by tiredness, they went back to a religious composure, apart from some other thrill here and there, too much excitement in one evening indeed. This time it was Ioreon doing the honors, watched closely by Asgore while he lifted the cylinders and put them again in the sack, rhyming as a final act:
"Most precious is company, I clamour it exultingly! No greater delight in life is here, but to cherish the heart of whom you're glad to hear! Yet a long day tomorrow us tarrieth, a missing brother on us all relieth! That said, remain steadiest, for now I put you to bed coziest!"
Thus they had a last thrill and smoothed again in their cylinders, the shadow of the closing hems wrapping them secure.
"One could end up mistaking you for their nanny," Asgore said, laughing up his sleeve, though touched by his delicacy.
"Whereas thou thinkest about thy nanny goat."
At that, Asgore burst out laughing along with the stentorian chuckle of Ioreon. "Well, how could I ever forget her? I wouldn't be able after everything I have seen, still reminding me of her."
"And who told thee to forget her?" Ioreon added, sitting down again, this time in front of the King, now dazed. "The old that is strong doth not wither, deep roots are not reach'd by the frost!"
"Oh my. You really think so, even for the two of us?"
"In my humble opinion, thou would pine for her far too much by just being away. So, aye."
"This, somehow… heartens me," Asgore said, then shook his head, a blushing painted on his cheeks. "Gosh, just let's change the subject, can we?"
"Oh. Good enough." Ioreon got the message after a light cough from Asgore. "Well then! The crest of Snowdin hath turn'd unruly. Lamentations I heard in the wind, screams of defiance and cries for vengeance in the air. The ground was feverous and the snow unquiet. Yet, enshrin'd in cliffs, upon the forest of firs, I found resonating the soul of bravery."
"The way you tell it, it does not bode well at all."
"Falter not mifriend, fate anything shall do but smile at us if we stay steadfast! Now pay heed, ere resting thy sight. Heights are whiter, snow covereth the slopes till the bottom. Our path highly shall go, and weather shall prove itself a perilous hindrance as we run into intense cold, ere descending to the old ruins. Lest we leave unprepar'd, as hereby some trees still abide, each of us ought to bring along a bundle of firewood to preserve our magical energies. They shall prove useful to thee, if cold should bite right into the flesh."
"Alright then, we will have a hard time." Asgore rubbed and clapped his hands, resigning himself to the pressing prospect. "This worries me no doubt, but no sacrifice is too great at this juncture. The mountains will not prevail."
Asgore woke up, disturbed by the sound of the beating wind, shaking the window fixtures. He massaged the back of his head, his body full of pins and needles after tossing and turning several times in his sleep.
One thinks better with a full belly, but sleeps worse. He got up, deeming appropriate to not burden himself further with a hearty breakfast. He scratched his abdomen, filled his travel teapot with some water taken from one of a variety of bottles left behind on the counter, and warmed it in his hand on fire, enough to infuse the tea bags.
He poured it into his chipped cup, watched the ashes still smoldering in the fireplace, took a sip and turned his gaze to the wide window. The world outside appeared bleak yet again. The wind whirled hammering. It was barely snowing, but threatened to worsen.
Ioreon appeared all of a sudden at a point of the pub, as if he had always been there, as he always did. Asgore restrained at least from wincing and spilling tea all over himself.
"Howdy Ioreon," he said, after a sip of tea.
"Oh, thou art awake. Well met! I took the trouble to expedite things," the spirit said, pointing out two bundles of wood placed in a corner. Asgore yawned unconscious.
"Verily, the weather forebodeth ill."
"Quod erat demonstrandum, and you know," – he took another sip – "one of these days you have to explain me how can you possibly materialize yourself as you wish and so casually. You're giving me the creeps."
"Belike is't untimely to tell? My, thou might not understand, first thing in the morrow. Come now, 'tis not the hour to quibble on physical cosmology and quantum of planes, we should expect a very pernicious peak, mifriend!"
Ioreon anticipated Asgore's reaction, shrugging and then rousing at the fullest. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, and with a last sip emptied the cup. "Give me a moment to get dressed up."
"Takest thy time. Can I reassure myself that thou art ready physically and mentally for aught shall expect us? For indeed nature all around seemeth to have taken a life of its own, opposing the two of us with a likewise will, which is cruel and fell."
Asgore sighed, while applying the joints of his armor. "Well, maybe I no longer fell so ready right now," he said, grinning apprehensively.
"Pray, let me be by thy side! We shall find the suitable paths to our climb and resist the weathering elements. Let thy royal spirit bursteth out!"
"Golly, if you put it that way…" the King answered in kind, fixing the last lace of the cuirass in place, putting his crown in the sack on his shoulders, just in case. "Well, where is my bundle?"
watch?v=_OroItxzYbQ (Antti Martikainen – Across the Highlands)
The upcoming day was clear until, after easy and unobstructed walking, they came to the feet of the mountains, dwarf compared to the majestic Mount Ebott but great enough to rival the massifs of the Overworld.
A hint of a path at the foot of a cliff wall stood on the left, dominated by darkened rock walls. The two made their way, but soon the path became steep and bumpy. After scrambling across a slope, they paused on top of it for a moment to better study the surroundings. Asgore felt the sizzle of white snowflakes right on his nose, and decided to cover his head with a worn scarf.
They resumed their march, but after a few minutes the snow fell swirling and denser. With a flare shot forward, Ioreon created an air pocket in order to sublimate the storm before them. Fortunately, this evanescent tunnel gave them time to catch sight of a sheltered crack, a little further ahead. There they waited for about half an hour, when the wind had calmed down in part and flakes were falling slower and slower.
"No time to get here and I am already drenched. We are in the Underground and it snows, way too exaggerated on top of that! These peaks forgot that they are in the presence of the King, but they should know that my soul needs even more than a snowfall to stop!"
"Then let us continue mifriend, upwards to a safer place!"
So they left, but after they did an hundred steps, as if the storm had accepted the challenge, it returned to the assault. The wind whistled in Asgore's ears, the snowstorm made him blind. He clenched his teeth, while he dragged on his feet, heavy as lead, plowing through the snow that had covered the path.
The silhouette of Ioreon was just meters away, yet Asgore was hardly able to recognize him. Snow was thick on his own hood and shoulders. Several times they had to flatten against the wall because the path narrowed, and several times again Asgore threatened to take a false step and plummet down.
At one point they stopped, suspicious of extraneous noise. The King ceased to breathe for a moment, enough to hear the screeching that blew along cracks and crevices and ravines around them. Then howls of boulders rolling down from the flanks and over their heads, soon crashing on the path. An occasional rumble presaged the fall of other stones, tumbling afar.
"We cannot go further beyond Asgore, I cannot drag thee under this uproar! The risk is too high!"
"Let's stop here where we are then, I'm afraid I cannot go on or back!" shouted Asgore with a trembling voice. The cold penetrated inside his armor, and he shivered visibly.
"Feckless to withdraw now that the blizzard rageth, no place a way back our ascent provideth shelter! But holdest on just a little, I see a roof'd alcove just some feet ahead!"
"I hope that it will protect us at least from the snow, as for the wind… I might even bear it!"
With some effort, Asgore pushed through the snow to reach the recess, while hidden memories of those places resurfaced. "We call them the Evercold Mountains, and never before I have seen this kind of outbreak of snow and storm," Asgore thought aloud, finally snuggling with his back against the rock. Slithering he sat down then, fatigued.
The wall above them faced east, and the ledge seemed to provide adequate protection against the caving in boulders. The gusts of wind continued to swirl imperious around them. Ioreon did the impossible to dampen the flurry, but it seemed it came from places far too hidden to locate and sedate, so he contented himself with raising a solid embankment to divert it.
"Verily these mountains play tricks!" Ioreon was still struggling in lifting the ground to an appropriate height.
"How about I light a fire?" said Asgore now that the shivers seemed to have subsided.
"If thou can, definitely! Puttest the hearth next to the wall, the heat shan't disperse."
Asgore did not need to be told twice, he stacked his bundle and lit it, rapidly catching fire. Snow all the while covered the embankment, but had no way to penetrate in this small haven. They gathered around the firelight, wood burning cheerful, and the red light was playing on tired and restless Asgore's face, while his hands warmed near the flame.
"I wonder when it will stop, but apparently it has no such intention," Asgore added, breaking the ice.
"I am in fact tempted to lunge at one side of the mountain to probe nooks and byways, hoping for a safe passage. Even if the storm itself caught me off guard, I should move quickly enough to come unharm'd."
"Don't you risk to get engulfed by the blizzard?"
"I am willingly to take such risk. When the snow blanket shall halt down, the buried way may not reveal broken ground and edges on the chasm. Thou shalt lose too much time and strength to cling to the wall and keep from falling down."
"Well, if my memory occurred with effort serves me, going around the corner just ahead we leave the scarp to our right and run along the glacier, and then off we go through a defile that joins onto the next mountain. However we would end up with our heads uncovered to whatever falls upon us."
"If 'tis as thee sayest, then all the more urgent is the need for a survey."
"Don't dare so much Ioreon! I'd rather open a gate with my fiery hands than leave you at the mercy of the storm!"
Ioreon lowered his gaze to the bonfire, and closed his eyes. "Then 'tis settl'd Asgore. We can theretofore mentally prepare ourselves for the next steps till the blizzard calmeth."
"I am pleased that you have listened to my words. Now I just need to know how and why the soul went up so far up."
"'Twas not erst so stormy, and the child may have gone looking for something, to return never again. Not for naught, 'tis the soul of bravery we are speaking of."
"Gosh Ioreon, I never stop me asking how I couldn't see you roaming around my kingdom. You really know a lot about it!"
"Thou wonderest, Asgore… but still a spirit I am, so the whole world unfoldeth to me in an instant. Whilst I must confide thee that what I see is akin to mere pulsations. I distinguish but vaguely, and I am not aware of all possible changes that may occur in the meantime. Magic serveth me well, mine only way to interact with the physical world, with all the limitations it entaileth. Without it I can do naught, and thou wouldst say the same."
"Fair enough. The important thing is that we get out of here alive."
"About it I doubt not, mifriend. We just need to wait for the light to live anew."
The fire had already consumed the wood completely, but the now amassed heat vented slow to the outside, keeping the warmth until Asgore's awakening. They spent roughly two hours since the gaze of the King grew tired of watching the flakes falling incessantly under the dark clouds of vapor, trapped under the vault of Ebott. With weary eyes, he noticed how clouds and wind tore and snow ceased its ill will. Slowly light seemed to increase despite the bleak and timeless atmosphere of the Underground.
Ioreon was the first to exit, pushing the embankment with all the gathered snow down the cliff, and both were witnesses to that silent and snow-mantled landscape. The vision now limpid, they could even see Snowdin beneath them. The same could not be said of the lane, covered with multiform and misshapen frost bumps, while wind had piled huge heaps of snow all over the wall.
"If all goeth well, the only snow we have to be worried about is that of avalanches. I might even fly with thee without risking thy death of exposure."
"Well, what an unfortunate fate!" Asgore wryly replied. "Anyway, I think it would be best to walk, at least in my view. If the soul is around here it won't be easy to see from above, especially if stuck in some crevice like us."
"And I am the one that wanteth to risk! Howbeit, I shall accept thine advice, and let fire doth the breach. Let me go ahead awhile ere proceeding, we need thee not to stumble by mistake."
Before Asgore could reply, Ioreon catapulted into the air, bursting forth sparse fireballs, trying to not provoke unreasonably the mountain. Gradually heat thinned the domain of ice, showing the rocky ledge that they recalled. But the road they were following narrowed sharply before reaching the crossing, so to appear as a mild corrugation.
"Good news!" –Ioreon said to Asgore, floating ahead of him – "The pass is relatively unclutter'd, with some boulder betwixt. The journey however shan't let thee go, for the path is nonexistent. Thus up to the ridge of the mountain I shall take thee, to continue on foot thereafter."
So he landed and turned his back to Asgore who shouldered the sack and clung to him. The spirit flew with his usual diligence to the designated place.
A cold breath heaved from the glacier beneath them, and a few unstable pebbles rolled down. Asgore put his feet on the ground and saw through the desolation the long pass, which forwarded furthermore towards the mountain range.
"Lower thy voice! The snow above and below us standeth for a miracle," Ioreon said to Asgore, who just nodded and followed him, being careful to the slippery residual snow mixed with water. Clumping, they reached the end of the defile, onto the next ridge, there where the wind died out.
The show was terrific in its calm balanced with catastrophe. They found themselves in the presence of a snowfield of colossal proportions, trapped in the basin formed by the ridges, an arena where silence reigned, and where it was a must.
"We are getting closer to the soul," – Ioreon was whispering now – "I feel his vibrations, but I cannot perceive where he is exactly. Keep thine eyes open." Asgore closed his mouth shut for fear of impending disaster. Silence gives consent.
Already a few clumps of snow fell, sinking in places like the sand through an hourglass hole. It was ready to empty itself to the crevices underneath if an opportunity presented itself, one they well tried to not provide. Cautiously Ioreon probed the pile with his staff, with the hope of finding a viable route, at that moment concealed by the sleeping white giant. He dug the snow along the ridge, the only sensible solution, opposed to the edge of the hidden precipice.
But the mountains did not allow them to pass. Apart from the one whence they had arrived, all the other even ways were closed. Their movement would have been possible only upwards, but the wall was too steep and did not show any footholds. Turning back was out of the question.
Asgore collided with his nose on Ioreon, who stood still abruptly. A whispered verbal crossfire ensued.
"Ouch. Why did you stopped?"
"Art thou really sure thou want to continue on foot?"
"What is it now?"
"Ahead of us is a steep downfall."
"But, really! You said that the soul was close!"
"How close dependeth on how far thou art able to stretch the leg."
"Don't tell me…"
"The matter is, the soul throbbeth strongly, but beneath us. Either we unearth him, or hope he cometh at us."
"Golly Ioreon, are you saying that the soul is buried under the snow?! How on earth could he get out on his own?!"
"Lackaday, lose not thy temper so easily, I am trying to defuse the issue. Let me think the moves to be made."
"But… we just can't stay here mulling around a potential avalanche!"
And so it happened.
It was matter of a moment, or rather a stone slab, pretty much a sizable chunk of a peak, that faulted and slid down with natural fluidity. A cloud of snow dirtied with debris announced its coming, and the sound of something sinking into the soft was enough to turn their head and gape.
youtu-be/WBmFyRfwEiA?t=14s (change - with .) (Antti Martikainen – From the Fields of Gallia)
"Oh." Asgore kept his voice down regardless. "Sometimes, I ask myself if someone is mad at us."
"Fie on it. And I guess it shall go down hill after that."
Then came the deafening roar. The mountain eclipsed by the foretold avalanche.
"Asgore, my apologies in advance."
"What? What are you…" His sentence ended muffled, as soon as Ioreon embraced his abdomen and tugged him with an up-thrust, just before the snow would take revenge on them.
Slides and slides fell down from the peaks, shook by the tremor. With a jolting movement, the imprinted force transformed the potential energy of the environment into kinetic one in the blink of an eye, crashing on the outcrops and spraying gloriously high.
"Tell me again why we got ourselves into this situation?!" Asgore managed to say something during their precipitous ascent.
"We shall talk of it later! Sharp thy gaze instead!" Ioreon said, straining his voice so to be heard.
Asgore snuggled his head in his arms, taking cover from a broadside thunderous spray that crashed down below. "You know, I have other problems to think about right now!"
"Aye, but 'tis the soul that I speak of! I hear him, clearer and clearer!"
At that, the king changed his mind suddenly. He peered as the avalanche slotted into the defile, threatening the glacier over the pass, while the rest, unable to throw itself forward, flowed along the eastern side and went down. The resulting suction, other than splitting rocks and stones, spat out from the emptying arena an orange glimmer, a spark in his eyes, dragged by the course of events and seemingly unable to resist the current.
The spirit took the King up to the nearest repaired side of the mountain, with the avalanche in full sight from above. "Asgore, if we physically move, physics shan't help us. With thee on me, I cannot move just as instantly," Ioreon said, dropping him on the soft snow. "Follow the decline, hence it shall be easy, and chase the soul, and if necessary launch thyself! At the right time, I shall be there for thee!"
Ioreon let himself fall, going flying nap-of-the-flood, and then vanished. Caught off guard, Asgore grabbed the first rock ledge where his hand could reach to help himself standing up, suffering the noise of broken glass that the glacier made, crushed by the pressure, split in a storm of ice teeth.
"Darn it! I'd never expect such impulsiveness on your part!" he shouted in exasperation. "There's a cataclysm in place and you just vanish down there?!"
But he did not do differently from what Ioreon said. "Let's hold it as valid."
He went, sometimes jumping, sometimes rolling, down the slope, coming to the once hibernated soul soon to be sucked into the defile. It tried and tried to flutter and leave, but the rapids of snow made it tumble with impunity.
Asgore had a lump in the throat, because he believed that human souls, even if powerful and resistant, were not invulnerable. He quickened his pace, plunging his hands in the sack and grabbing one of the last empty cylinders, terrified of dropping all the rest of its content.
He did yet another jump, bruising hands and feet, arriving already at the mouth of the defile. The path along the ridge was steep now, and only his strong arms could push himself forward.
The snowfield was emptying precipitously, the shooting deluge slammed upon obstacles and every corner of the pass, and then jumped above the glacier, down to the scarp. The soul was with it, picking up speed, ready to throw itself with the rest.
But the avalanche seemed to fork, divided by an invisible wedge that gave vent to it towards the sides. And shortly before the soul could come to the bifurcation, the wedge turned into a ramp, where the power of the avalanche reared up and flew over the glacier for a while, until it fell down again.
This slowdown was enough for Asgore to close the distance, jumping again and again, from one outcrop to another upon the defile. But the soul was still terribly distant.
It was within a stone's throw of going straight to its death, but another prodigy came to the rescue: the invisible ramp seemed to shape itself into a curved path, a track that forced the course of the avalanche. It swerved at the top and then to the right, toward the stone ridge, on which earlier they flew over and whereon, even higher now, Asgore jumped like he was a hare.
His claws like picks stayed firmly on the stone, and he did not waver even if one arm was occupied in holding tight the uncovered cylinder.
The soul ran beneath him. He had a single try on his part now, catch the soul at the right time, or lose it below the icy waves.
"I really am too old for this!" he said, suspended between a crazy and impetuous act and the fear of not surviving that, hanging on the confidence of a spirit that said he would come to his aid.
Either all or nothing, he thought, and let go, his limbs outstretching like a spider on its prey.
Then he did not understand anything anymore. A dip in an icy sea, sodden anew with snow and mud, incapable of understanding and willing, tossed as he was. He spun and swirled, pulled by a surge which would break the bones of a human.
But the soul was beating so strong that he could even hear it with his own heart, inside the roar.
In one of the few occasions where he managed to rise his head to see the dark vault of Ebott, a quick glance was enough to see the soul, again hibernated in sleet, but inside the cylinder at least.
"Golly, I guess I got him!" he said entranced with his mouth open, the icy snow entering into it.
And when every change of escaping were coming to an end, Ioreon appeared as if he had always been behind him. He passed through him and caught him with a tangible arm, pulling him out of the mountain rage, which now poured without restraint and constraint where its blind will wanted.
"Bravo Asgore! When people say to put body and soul into something!"
"You ill-mannered spirit!" Asgore answered, sputtering the snow in his mouth. "You left me on my own! But anyway, thanks for the help!"
"In sooth I was sure that thou couldst do it, a fearless hero like thee would not just stand there to feel sorry for himself!"
"You sure know how to find the best excuses!" the King said, clinging to the back of the spirit that now soared graceful, bombing of explosions protruding spikes and basalt ridges that hindered the flight, kept as straight as possible to get away quickly, the avalanche now behind them.
"Marry! This somehow remindeth me of Cair Megiddo."
"Are you kidding me? Here is much worse!"
The spirit gave a laugh. "Rather, thy Kingdom is becoming monotonous! It always endeth up being chas'd by something!"
"Gosh, you said it! And I still wonder why the souls haven't just stood there in the throne room!"
"Come now, at least we had time to get acquainted."
"Heh, that's for sure."
The trees were dragged in the heat, and those that remained planted on the ground were freed of all snow placidly lying over the branches. Their presence only served to complicate the route of Ioreon, having to descend in altitude without hitting right in the center the trunks.
The descent became extraordinarily steep because chasms in no way restrained the snow that lingered on downhill. It was like escape routes were built on purpose for that eventuality, curves and depressions conveying the roving disaster as a single mass. The enthusiasm did not spare branches and stones hanging in balance, bushes just disappearing to its advance. The basin waited for anything but even more sleet, but still hardly got close.
"Hey, how much we climbed again?! Looks like we are not close at all to the vale!"
"On that I paid no attention, for rather a feeling telleth me that despite everything the avalanche is losing its momentum. Too many obstacles along its run are slowing it down. Hold on, we shall come out of here before crashing against the firs of Snowdin!" Ioreon shouted to make himself heard in the bustle.
"Can't you just fly higher than that?!"
"After a run-up, it shall be done! Bracest thyself, for I am going faster!"
He snapped forward with shocking speed, overcoming debris and new stalactites, darting between the majestic combers of snow that slid by now on the mountain knees. Asgore was unable to articulate his mouth, thrashed about by the headwind and opened like a kite. Now indeed the basin was approaching, but it was not yet time to rejoice.
A wide shadow approached behind them. The rest of the snow, which by rolling stayed back at the forefront, was now returning to the fray, threatening to hurl them down, but Ioreon right away went up with parabolic motion, leaving behind the sensational experience of being dragged by force into the ravine in a boom of epic proportions.
"Heck, too many feelings right now!" Asgore said eventually, rubbing his dilated mouth after putting the fifth cylinder in the sack. "Let's just go away from here, I'm getting dizzy after all this flying!"
"So be it! We shall be out of here in no time!" he said and went down again, darting toward a lonely path in the dense forest, leading to a well-known location: the gates of Old Home.
Fion – Evercold Mountains, 675x
In this world... it always ends up being chased by something.
Well now then, before you go, I wanted to say just two things.
I wanted to point out that each soul in each chapter has a story to tell. For those who want to hear yet another interpretation of their significance (in this story at least), you can ask and I will answer, but not before I have introduced them all.
Moreover, I thought that the way I am addressing the souls could create a bit of confusion. So, Asgore and Ioreon know their specific gender, this is intended. I maintain the use of the "it" pronoun to refer to the soul as an "object". Asgore learned of their circumstances after all those years, while (warning: headcanon) Frisk is still a "they" to him, because she was too young for the monsters to realize what their gender was (You know, "What's in your pants?! DETERMINATION!").
I would have no problems in using "they", mind you. I decided doing so because I thought would be confusing with all these new people. Also, I take advantage of this designation for a theoretical exercise of mine. There is more to come.
Ciao.
;-)