Chapter Seven: The Long Trek North
The wind was crisp, blowing into Rhea's hood, freezing her neck. She stopped, grabbing her hair and twisting it into a thick rope, wrapping it around her neck, then tying her hood tightly about her face. It hadn't yet snowed, but there was frost on the slowly browning blades of grass in the mornings, crunching beneath their boots, and the ground was firmer than before. The sky had a constant pearl grey pallor from the clouds, and the air felt heavy. Her clothes were stiff as they moved about her, the thick cloth of her over-cloak cold against her wrists and neck where her shirt beneath didn't cover.
They made their way west first, through the large forest mostly surrounding Cornelia, then turned north once they had gotten out of the trees. Now it was windswept flat lands of thick grass until they reached the marshlands. A few encounters with imps had slowed them some, but otherwise there had been no issues. More wild horses, like the ones they had seen in Cornelia not long ago, had been roaming near where they passed, but Loki had frightened them off with a few well-aimed shots of flame.
Felix knew the land best, so he was the leader for the moment. He was dressed in his own set of leather armour, a large wool doublet overtop, though it didn't seem to be helping him much with the cold. "It isn't normally this cold this far south, especially for autumn," he'd commented, brushing the iced grass with his foot, watching the dark green emerge as it melted under his boot and turned the grass wet. "Been here all my life, and never seen even a touch of frost in the dead of winter. It just rains here." But only a day into their journey, flakes of snow fell from the sky, and though they stared at Felix for some explanation, he could only shrug his shoulders and say, "It's weird."
Dimas hung to the back. He'd known the forest well enough, but the area this far north was new to him. Loki stuck to him often, though it would occasionally dart off into the taller grasses and disappear for hours at a time. Up ahead, he could see Rhea, Lothar, carrying the bulk of their possessions, and the top of Felix's head. The grasses here were taller, wilder, and it was becoming harder to keep track of where they had walked. He ran up a little and started walking beside them. Soon even Loki was huddled with them, and Felix wasn't nearly so far ahead.
The sky had gone dark, though too cloudy to see any stars. Felix turned. "We're stopping here."
"Here? In the waist-high grass?" Rhea asked. "Can't we find somewhere that'll be easier to pitch a tent?"
"Not likely," Lothar said. "We're right in the grasslands now. But you could help me stomp down a spot."
Rhea rolled her eyes, lifted her skirt, and started stomping down the thick stalks around her. "That's the spirit," Felix said encouragingly.
"Maybe you could cut some of it with your sword," she replied.
"I don't think that's as easy as you think it is."
"I don't think this is as easy as you think it is." One of the stalks popped back up under her skirt and got tangled. "Argh!"
"You'll be fine," Felix told her.
"I guess chivalry really is dead." She sounded disappointed. The stalk caught and left a run down her skirt as she pulled it out that no one wanted to inform her of.
"Oh, but I'm not a knight anymore." He'd handed in a resignation before they left.
"You, stop goading her, or I'll have to listen to it for the rest of the night," Lothar scolded, pushing Felix towards where Dimas and Loki were. "I'll do it, Rhea."
Felix shook his head and turned to the other two.
"No, Loki, don't!" Dimas grabbed the creature's arms from behind and they fell to the ground together. A spark of fire died in Loki's paws. "He was gonna burn the grass down. Nearly 'ad a grassfire on our hands!"
The creature spat and hissed and twisted in fright. They had discovered recently that it wasn't above biting; if Dimas had been anyone else, it probably would have taken a hunk out of their arm, but the young thief's familiar scent calmed it down and it simply slunk away into the tall stalks instead.
"I hope it doesn't try it again. Let's do this quickly so it doesn't."
They worked to bend the grass over, cutting through the thicker stalks of some plants (to which Rhea whined, "Oh, but you wouldn't do it for me."), then put their tent up and waited for Loki. They had already eaten and were nearly asleep when the small creature snuck through the tent flap and into Dimas' bedroll, snuggling up to his shoulder.
"You're pretty pathetic, you know," Mayra told him. "Teodoro likes you, but you know, if he didn't, you'd be nobody here."
Teodoro did like Dimas, at least enough to help him break into the Firdo mansion to impress Mayra. After all, if you could impress Mayra, you were a real somebody in the slums – otherwise, you were a nobody, like everybody else. It would have worked, too, if they hadn't gotten caught doing it, filling their bags with expensive jewellery and clothes.
Then the guards had him…the spike driving into his hand, pain shooting up his arm, and…
"Dimas, are you okay?" Dimas' eyes flew open, but only to blackness. He flailed his arms, connecting them with something in the darkness, pushed it away, then whatever it was went through the tent flap, letting in light.
"Oh. Sorry, Felix." He pulled up his collar, pulled on his gloves, then crawled outside as the other young man pushed spiky red bangs out of his eyes and scrambled to his feet.
"Nightmare?"
"Uh, yeah. Old memories," he admitted – he didn't want Felix to think he was worried about going north, and the temple. Everyone else in Cornelia seemed to be afraid of it, but Dimas wasn't superstitious.
"I can't sleep at all," Felix sat down on the leather mat they had spread next to the fire bed, currently dead and black. After a moment's hesitation, Dimas settled down beside him. "Maybe I'm scared," the knight admitted.
"No, ye have the least to worry about of all of us."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, maybe Rhea can heal herself if anythin' happens, Loki has apparently fought before, and is pretty good with his magic, Lothar can fight a little too. I'm pretty fast, for whatever that's worth…"
"But?"
"But you, my friend, are in armour, with a sword, 'n real trainin'."
"I guess so," Felix grinned. "Might not help me too much if I lose my wits out there, though." He glanced north.
Dimas put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't then. We need you."
Felix responded with something like, "Mm hmm," except less vocal, patted the small, gloved hand Dimas had placed on his shoulder as though in agreement, then got up and broke the contact. Dimas sat awkwardly still, shaken by the intimacy of the moment. "I'm going to try to sleep," Felix told him.
"Yeah." Dimas waited for Felix to go into their tent first, then went in and settled down next to Loki (who rolled over in response to his nearness much like a dog) facing away from Felix, and eventually slipped into a sleep that had no dreams.
Another day of endless walking, of rearranging the straps of their backpacks, as though it would make them more comfortable, of retying their cloaks as thought it would make them warmer. The melted snow made the ground slick, and they kept tripping, hurting half-frozen hands on sharp stones and hard ground. The sun was shining exceptionally bright, and Dimas found his eyes hurting from squinting for so long, wondering if such a thing could give you wrinkles. Then ahead, a scream that had to be Rhea, and a feral snarl. He turned and found Loki standing beside him. Then the snarl had to be…a heavy thump made him jump forward.
Rhea pulled back her mallet and swung it with the momentum of her whole body, but it barely left a bloody mark on the wolf's nose. Felix could be heard asking something, but there wasn't time to answer him. Dimas swung…and missed. "Damnit."
The wolf ran around, disappeared into the grass. "Oh, where is he?" Rhea mumbled. Then Dimas saw a wolf's face lunge at him, jaw open and teeth free.
"Ah!" He had no time to jump, so he fell back instead, hit the ground and smacked his head. Rolling over, he saw the canine gnawing on Rhea's arm. A blast of fire singed its tail and Lothar kicked it, sent it flying away, where it just had time to pick itself up before Felix came through the grass and plunged his sword through its back.
There was a moment of silence, then the back of Dimas' head began to throb; he touched a hand to it, hissed at the sting, found blood, and waited for Rhea to finish healing her arm before coming to him.
The marshes were, of course, worse. Their feet stuck in the mud at times, and when they pulled out their feet, sometimes their boots slid off. It was cold enough that the ground was firm in some places, but it was still hotter than it had been on the plains, and swarms of flies would come upon them at times. They wrapped blankets around their mouths and noses to stop from inhaling the bugs, but the heat made their faces sweat under the blankets or scarves, and they soon had to take them off. The only one who didn't seem to be bothered was Loki. It had discarded its hat and robe to crawl naked among the boggy place, protected from the flies by its thick fur, and they caught glimpses of a furred limb or a clawed hand between the reeds now and then. Loki wasn't often with them, but it always seemed to be around when its magic was needed.
"This stinks," Dimas said finally, pulling the end of his silk headscarf, now dark with sweat, off his face. He wiped at the moisture running down his cheeks, smearing a few small bugs that had gotten caught on his face by the wet. He swatted his hands around, smacking against a few black flies, but they circled and came back instantly. "I dunno what's worse, the freezin' cold we just came from, or this. How can a place so cold 'n a place so hot be so close together?"
"It's not as hot as we think it is," Lothar reminded them. "Whenever I take anything off to stop sweating, I'm reminded that it's past mid-autumn."
"I'd say this is worse," Rhea said, muffled through the collar she had buttoned over her hood to cover her nose. "I wouldn't mind going back to the cold, even if it is a pain to set up camp with all that grass."
"I don't mean to complain, I guess. But I'm a city-boy if ever there were one. I'm not ready for this." Dimas flung the sweat soaked end of his scarf over his shoulder.
"Maybe if you weren't wearing a long-sleeved, turtle neck wool sweater, you'd feel better," Felix said jokingly. "And you could probably do without the headscarf and the leather gloves, too."
Dimas looked at him, then at Rhea and Lothar. He blushed bright red, as though being caught in some transgression, but shook his head. "No, this is all I've got." He lifted a leg, had one knee-high leather boot sucked off, pulled it out and rammed his foot, complete with a damp sock, back in, re-buckled it, then shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of the heavy vest he wore overtop the sweater. Everyone knew better than to offer him their own shirts by now, having been refused enough times.
"Well I hope you change your mind soon," Lothar said as he passed him, wearing long, loose pants, tucked into high boots of his own, and a billowy cotton shirt that looked much more comfortable. "You're making me sweat just looking at you."
Then there were the monsters.
Monsters in marshes were different. There were still imps, and the occasional odd-looking general imps, with their skulls and banners, and there were still wolves, circling them in packs of light brown or red spotty fur, around a large, strong alpha dog. But there were other things too. Things that looked like people, slow-moving and wearing ragged clothing that had gone long without washing. 'Lost Wanderers' they were called, people who disappeared into the bogs and wetlands. They resurfaced as monsters, if they did at all.
There was also the occasional dead body to be found, half-submerged in the mud and clay. Those with human faces were the most disturbing, especially the one that lay in their narrow path. It had been a man, with a too-large brown shirt, and no shoes. His face was mostly gone. They stepped over him quickly, each holding their breath as though they could wake him. Dimas tripped, steadied himself with a hand on the man's sunken chest. It gave with the sound of air leaving a wet sack. "Ah! Oh gods!" He fell over him and half-crawled, half-ran into Rhea's arms, who gave him a consoling hug – she had also been very upset over it.
"Well, maybe it is good you're wearing gloves," Lothar said, patting Dimas' back while he retched, Rhea holding back a long lock of hair and part of his headscarf that wasn't tucked into the bandanna. The thief steadied himself and immediately started whimpering, ripping off the gloves and dropping them. He instantly shot his hands into his pockets, although Rhea did have time to notice how red they were, and thought it might be good for them to be out of the gloves for a while.
"I can wash these if you want." She looked at them sitting in the mud.
"No, no, I want new ones."
"Okay, we'll get you new ones when we get back to Cornelia," Felix promised, putting a hand on Dimas' shoulders. He gave him a kind of one-armed hug and started towing him forward.
Another short forest was all that was between them and the Temple of Fiends, according to Felix's map. Once through the forest, after three weeks of travelling, they finally emerged onto the edge of a cliff. "Oh, I guess we have to go around, Felix?" Lothar called over his shoulder.
"What?" The redhead pulled himself up the incline leading to where Lothar and Dimas were with the help of a tree trunk.
"We're on a cliff," Lothar added.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, but we can go down that way." He pointed to an uneven rocky path. "But look there, though." He pointed out over the stretch of land before them.
It stood tall and proud, a structure of pale grey, sprawling across the top of a hill, thin and framed at the corners with black stone, the same black that eventually connected at the top to make a tall spire jutting into the horizon like a break in the sky. The Temple of Fiends.
