Chapter 16
The cold wind bit through Donnia's body as though she wore nothing over her skin. Her hair was crusted in ice; her hands were nearly numb with cold. The three still ventured on. They would occasionally stop to talk to some of the spirits who roamed that plane and would warm themselves for a moment by the fire to keep alive.
Donnia had learned of the Sleeping Man and his quest to find his true love. She was seeking the answers to the Five-Fold Mystery, questions of why he had come to Cania and who he was. She had four of them answered, but no one seemed to know what he had found upon arriving in Cania.
She had heard of an uprising against Mephistopheles by a powerful woman who had organized the spirits and workers to revolt against his rule. Mephistopheles had quickly ended this, but now no one would mention her, just quickly speak of the frozen woman in a cave. It was that cave that Donnia, Valen, and Nathyrra were currently looking for.
"I never knew that it could ever be this cold anywhere," Nathyrra spoke through chattering teeth.
"It could be worse," Valen replied.
Nathyrra regarded him strangely, "Worse? What could possibly be worse than this frozen plane? We seem to be merely walking in circles not gaining on our goal."
Donnia knew that was true. She did not know what to do anymore. It seemed that each time she started to step in the right direction that she would lose track of it and start off back at the beginning again. Her heart was gripped in frozen terror at what was happening back on Toril.
Valen looked to Donnia as Nathyrra spoke. Her movements may have looked to be those of a confident warrior, but he could tell something was wrong. Since they had found the first four answers she just seemed to recede farther into herself the longer it took to find the fifth answer and the cave. She had barely spoken in days.
Valen looked back to Nathyrra, "What's worse than this frozen plane is dying here and yet not dying at all. To wake up as though from sleep and still find yourself surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands, of enemies doing the same. Fighting for an eternity with no real purpose, goal, nor victory or loss in sight."
Nathyrra paused for a moment before continuing, "Valen, I'm sorry. I forgot that this was where you fought in the Blood War."
"It's nothing. We're far from it here."
"Let's go back to the tavern, maybe there's someone there who can help us." Donnia spoke this just loud enough to be heard over the howling wind before turning back in the direction of the tavern. She did not look to her companions to see if they followed. She assumed they would, but she was beginning to wonder why they did. She had failed them and everyone else too. She was no more meant to be a hero or savior than any other person.
Valen's heart seemed to break just a little more every time she spoke or glanced at him. There was nothing in her voice, no emotion, no anything. He had tried talking with her several times only to have short, clipped answers in return. It was not as though she was mad, or upset, but just empty.
The cold seemed especially harsh on Donnia. The wound delivered by Aribeth so many years ago still looked fresh. It did not bleed, but it did not heal either. It pained her everyday, but she had grown used to it, or at least thought she had. Since entering Cania it hurt more fiercely than it had since the wound itself occurred.
The three of them reentered the tavern and started talking to anyone about the frozen woman. The only clue they kept getting was to find the Scrivener. He was a little dog-like beast who wrote the names of the spirits in the ice. He might be able to help them on their quest.
It was getting late and Donnia was able to get them a room for the night. Though the tavern was heated, it provided little warmth, but at that point, anything was better than nothing. She collected plenty of wood, coal, and velox nettles to keep the room as warm as possible through the night.
Valen entered the room behind Donnia and laid down his flail in the corner. He went to Donnia to help her set up the fires. Nathyrra cast a protective spell over the door to keep them safe so no watch would be required over that night.
Donnia removed her sword and gently laid it down on the floor. Upon rising, pain screamed from her side, forcing her to double over and bite her cheek to keep from crying out. Her breathing was ragged and forced through her teeth. Her head spun from the fierce pain radiating from Aribeth's wound.
Valen turned to see her kneeling on the floor grasping her side. "Donnia! Are you okay?" He knelt down beside her to offer any help that he could.
Nathyrra quickly flanked her other side to assist her friend. "What happened?"
Donnia had to concentrate on her breathing for fear she would pass out. It had not hurt this much when Aribeth had stabbed her. "It's just an old wound that never healed."
"How old?" Valen was concerned for her. She was breathing rapidly and he could feel her heart racing under his hand on her wrist.
"It's from Aribeth. She did something to her sword and the wound never healed."
Valen was shocked at this, "Aribeth? That must have been..."
"Exactly. It's never hurt this bad before. In fact, it didn't hurt this much when she stabbed me."
Nathyrra had never seen such a wound on her friend and wondered if it had been hidden from them on purpose. "Is there anything we can do to help you?"
"I don't think so. I just need to get my armor off, I can't breathe." She pulled off the arm coverings and laid them aside and began to unclasp her breastplate. She pulled it off and immediately felt the relief from its weight. The pain did not lesson. She slid up her leather covering to look at the all too familiar wound.
Both Valen and Nathyrra gasped lightly at what they saw. A large gash stretched from Donnia's side around to the center of her stomach. It looked just like a fresh wound, but it did not bleed. Donnia gently probed it with her fingertips, sharply inhaling each time she made contact with the wound.
Nathyrra was the first to speak, "Donnia, have you tried getting someone to cast a healing spell over it?"
Donnia's eyes were closed tightly against the pain, "I've tried everything. Nothing helps and I doubt anything ever will. Unless I can find out what Aribeth did to that sword to do this kind of damage I just have to deal with it."
Valen could feel his blood starting to boil. He had fought in horrible battles, inflicted and suffered from serious wounds, but had never heard of anything like this. He almost wished that Donnia had not killed Aribeth so he could do it himself now.
He closed his eyes. He knew that they would be glowing red by now. He could not afford to let loose his emotions when the demonic half of him was in control. He had been fighting this since he had met the Seer, he knew how to control himself, but was finding it harder to do being so close to the Blood War. It was calling to him.
He slowly opened his eyes when he felt his blood return to normal. He looked down at Donnia, lying on the floor with her hands over her wound carefully, here eyes clenched shut. Pain had etched itself across her face. Despite the chill still present in the room sweat dampened her forehead.
Valen removed his cloak, wrapped it up into a tight ball, and carefully lifted Donnia's head and placed it back down on his make-shift pillow. He sat down next to her, lightly brushing the hair from her face. He understood there was nothing he could do to make it hurt less, but he wanted her to know he was there.
For the remainder of the night Donnia remained gripped in pain. Valen stayed by her side, wishing there was something he could do to lessen her pain. Nathyrra kept the fires going, trying to keep the room as warm as possible. Donnia seemed to be in less pain when it was warmer.
During the night Donnia slipped into sleep. Valen heard her breathing become slow and even, but her face did not relax, pulled tight by pain. He lay down next to her and kissed her cheek softly. He had not planned on sleeping but was beginning to find it difficult to keep his eyes open. He knew, though, that he would feel if something changed while he slept. As he fell asleep he whispered softly to Donnia, "I love you."
Donnia heard him and smiled. She was just as light a sleeper as he and hoped he might hear her as she had him, "And I love you, Valen."
Valen smiled in the dark, but said nothing in return. He lightly clasped one of her hands in his and tried to send her whatever strength he could to help her through her pain.
The cold wind bit through Donnia's body as though she wore nothing over her skin. Her hair was crusted in ice; her hands were nearly numb with cold. The three still ventured on. They would occasionally stop to talk to some of the spirits who roamed that plane and would warm themselves for a moment by the fire to keep alive.
Donnia had learned of the Sleeping Man and his quest to find his true love. She was seeking the answers to the Five-Fold Mystery, questions of why he had come to Cania and who he was. She had four of them answered, but no one seemed to know what he had found upon arriving in Cania.
She had heard of an uprising against Mephistopheles by a powerful woman who had organized the spirits and workers to revolt against his rule. Mephistopheles had quickly ended this, but now no one would mention her, just quickly speak of the frozen woman in a cave. It was that cave that Donnia, Valen, and Nathyrra were currently looking for.
"I never knew that it could ever be this cold anywhere," Nathyrra spoke through chattering teeth.
"It could be worse," Valen replied.
Nathyrra regarded him strangely, "Worse? What could possibly be worse than this frozen plane? We seem to be merely walking in circles not gaining on our goal."
Donnia knew that was true. She did not know what to do anymore. It seemed that each time she started to step in the right direction that she would lose track of it and start off back at the beginning again. Her heart was gripped in frozen terror at what was happening back on Toril.
Valen looked to Donnia as Nathyrra spoke. Her movements may have looked to be those of a confident warrior, but he could tell something was wrong. Since they had found the first four answers she just seemed to recede farther into herself the longer it took to find the fifth answer and the cave. She had barely spoken in days.
Valen looked back to Nathyrra, "What's worse than this frozen plane is dying here and yet not dying at all. To wake up as though from sleep and still find yourself surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands, of enemies doing the same. Fighting for an eternity with no real purpose, goal, nor victory or loss in sight."
Nathyrra paused for a moment before continuing, "Valen, I'm sorry. I forgot that this was where you fought in the Blood War."
"It's nothing. We're far from it here."
"Let's go back to the tavern, maybe there's someone there who can help us." Donnia spoke this just loud enough to be heard over the howling wind before turning back in the direction of the tavern. She did not look to her companions to see if they followed. She assumed they would, but she was beginning to wonder why they did. She had failed them and everyone else too. She was no more meant to be a hero or savior than any other person.
Valen's heart seemed to break just a little more every time she spoke or glanced at him. There was nothing in her voice, no emotion, no anything. He had tried talking with her several times only to have short, clipped answers in return. It was not as though she was mad, or upset, but just empty.
The cold seemed especially harsh on Donnia. The wound delivered by Aribeth so many years ago still looked fresh. It did not bleed, but it did not heal either. It pained her everyday, but she had grown used to it, or at least thought she had. Since entering Cania it hurt more fiercely than it had since the wound itself occurred.
The three of them reentered the tavern and started talking to anyone about the frozen woman. The only clue they kept getting was to find the Scrivener. He was a little dog-like beast who wrote the names of the spirits in the ice. He might be able to help them on their quest.
It was getting late and Donnia was able to get them a room for the night. Though the tavern was heated, it provided little warmth, but at that point, anything was better than nothing. She collected plenty of wood, coal, and velox nettles to keep the room as warm as possible through the night.
Valen entered the room behind Donnia and laid down his flail in the corner. He went to Donnia to help her set up the fires. Nathyrra cast a protective spell over the door to keep them safe so no watch would be required over that night.
Donnia removed her sword and gently laid it down on the floor. Upon rising, pain screamed from her side, forcing her to double over and bite her cheek to keep from crying out. Her breathing was ragged and forced through her teeth. Her head spun from the fierce pain radiating from Aribeth's wound.
Valen turned to see her kneeling on the floor grasping her side. "Donnia! Are you okay?" He knelt down beside her to offer any help that he could.
Nathyrra quickly flanked her other side to assist her friend. "What happened?"
Donnia had to concentrate on her breathing for fear she would pass out. It had not hurt this much when Aribeth had stabbed her. "It's just an old wound that never healed."
"How old?" Valen was concerned for her. She was breathing rapidly and he could feel her heart racing under his hand on her wrist.
"It's from Aribeth. She did something to her sword and the wound never healed."
Valen was shocked at this, "Aribeth? That must have been..."
"Exactly. It's never hurt this bad before. In fact, it didn't hurt this much when she stabbed me."
Nathyrra had never seen such a wound on her friend and wondered if it had been hidden from them on purpose. "Is there anything we can do to help you?"
"I don't think so. I just need to get my armor off, I can't breathe." She pulled off the arm coverings and laid them aside and began to unclasp her breastplate. She pulled it off and immediately felt the relief from its weight. The pain did not lesson. She slid up her leather covering to look at the all too familiar wound.
Both Valen and Nathyrra gasped lightly at what they saw. A large gash stretched from Donnia's side around to the center of her stomach. It looked just like a fresh wound, but it did not bleed. Donnia gently probed it with her fingertips, sharply inhaling each time she made contact with the wound.
Nathyrra was the first to speak, "Donnia, have you tried getting someone to cast a healing spell over it?"
Donnia's eyes were closed tightly against the pain, "I've tried everything. Nothing helps and I doubt anything ever will. Unless I can find out what Aribeth did to that sword to do this kind of damage I just have to deal with it."
Valen could feel his blood starting to boil. He had fought in horrible battles, inflicted and suffered from serious wounds, but had never heard of anything like this. He almost wished that Donnia had not killed Aribeth so he could do it himself now.
He closed his eyes. He knew that they would be glowing red by now. He could not afford to let loose his emotions when the demonic half of him was in control. He had been fighting this since he had met the Seer, he knew how to control himself, but was finding it harder to do being so close to the Blood War. It was calling to him.
He slowly opened his eyes when he felt his blood return to normal. He looked down at Donnia, lying on the floor with her hands over her wound carefully, here eyes clenched shut. Pain had etched itself across her face. Despite the chill still present in the room sweat dampened her forehead.
Valen removed his cloak, wrapped it up into a tight ball, and carefully lifted Donnia's head and placed it back down on his make-shift pillow. He sat down next to her, lightly brushing the hair from her face. He understood there was nothing he could do to make it hurt less, but he wanted her to know he was there.
For the remainder of the night Donnia remained gripped in pain. Valen stayed by her side, wishing there was something he could do to lessen her pain. Nathyrra kept the fires going, trying to keep the room as warm as possible. Donnia seemed to be in less pain when it was warmer.
During the night Donnia slipped into sleep. Valen heard her breathing become slow and even, but her face did not relax, pulled tight by pain. He lay down next to her and kissed her cheek softly. He had not planned on sleeping but was beginning to find it difficult to keep his eyes open. He knew, though, that he would feel if something changed while he slept. As he fell asleep he whispered softly to Donnia, "I love you."
Donnia heard him and smiled. She was just as light a sleeper as he and hoped he might hear her as she had him, "And I love you, Valen."
Valen smiled in the dark, but said nothing in return. He lightly clasped one of her hands in his and tried to send her whatever strength he could to help her through her pain.