A/N: Another chapter done, another break ready to be taken. Seven segments are hard to write...
Responses:
Keva 33: CREEPY, huh? This isn't the only thing Old Thordan can literally Conjure up.
Grey 33: I'm glad you like the chapter.
Forever Lost
SOMEWHERE
"He's coming around."
Thordan's head swam, from the depths of darkness - to nothing else but more darkness as he felt the cloth around his eyes.
He attempted to move all four of his paws, but found them tied behind him. Struggling, he opened his mouth, only to find that that was bound shut.
Unlike all his previous experiences with gags, his mouth hurt even when he tried to open it. The gag was not the problem - that was no mere sore.
Paws tapped his shoulder, and Thordan turned towards where the sensation was. It was gentler than what he had experienced in his two weeks as a prisoner, but they seemed hostile still.
"Do not move your mouth!" Bodvar the Boring, evidently. "Your jaw's healing."
Jaw. Thordan struggled to remember what happened after the kidnapping, torture, attempted brainwashing, confrontation with his mother and running into Otterguards until he remebered his fall down the stairs. He hated stairs for a reason.
"Hmm?" Thordan breathed? The things around his muzzle seemed too gentle to be a gag - perhaps a strap? Or a splint? They seemed to be more like bandages and the sort…
"Ah, you were trying to escape when you fell off the stairs. Silly beast…" Thordan could no nothing as his headfur was violated by a quick paw. "Anyways, we fed you, bathed and clothed you and we're bringing you to your uncle now. Phaw! How you stank of fox. I guess two weeks in a box alongside a so-called-seer is quite debilitating, right? Thordan nodded. For both body and mind, yes.
"I can't untie you yet - not until you swear not to escape from us. Alright?"
To be fair, escape was still possible, though with all four paws bound, how was Thordan going to run from three healthy soldiers?
"Well, if you try to escape in any way, we'll simply kill you. At least we tend to be frank about it."
Death was welcome, in a way, but Thordan preferred the alternative. He nodded feverishly, hoping that the other otter would take notice, which he did.
"Oh, and remember that an oathbreaker is automatically declared legally dead according to Dravain Law. You sure that's what you want?"
Better than dying, I suppose. The lord nodded.
The blindfold was ripped off his without warning, and Thordan squinted at the sudden influx of eyes needed minutes to fully return to their original power, but what he saw surprised him. He was on a little boat, a cog, most likely, and it was flowing down a river, with villages dotting its sides.
The Udso.
"Welcome to the Rubadub, Your Majesty." Bodvar knelt in front of him with a mocking smile. "Birger told me that this wasn't the best of names, but that doesn't matter." He coughed in a stupid attempt to steal Thordan's attention away from the poor name, which somehow succeeded. "Oh, and you need a new name and identity. You can't just walk into the streets saying that you're the King of Dravania, can you?"
ORIENCE, DUCHY OF DEILART, KINGDOM OF TRIEL
"Why?" Garrion kicked over a stool. "Why do these news drift into my ears in happy moments?"
Galen could do nothing has Lord Garrion Swalestrom threw a temper tantrum. At least he's doing it in private, and Galen was the only one to see it.
He was entering Orience in triumph when the news arrived. The city had surrendered, and Garrion had to take it all by himself, as General Ralos was nowhere to be seen.
Still, nobeast could have expected Godred Swalestrom to die in such an ignominious way - being blown off a ship, than decapitated by some random islander.
"Well, my lord-"
"Silence! I need time for myself!" The lord sobbed aloud. Galen knew not to interfere in these matters - the lord was secretive, and 'time to himself' was something he needed often.
Galen waited as the lordling continued to cry as he recalled older times, all spent playing and learning with his siblings, and even some of his cousins. Bellamy is his only sibling left, and soon she would have to leave the household, married off like maids are done here. Not like back at home, where marriage was all about love…
"My lord." Galen approached the lord step by step, his paws trembling. He had built up a sort of understanding with his commander, and some might have called it friendship. Though this relationship was definitely not as close as Dirk and Ralos, the rising commander was sure that his lord would heed his advice.
"You are not the only beast to have lost kin to the enemy. Hundreds, if not thousands, of beasts saw friends and family die in the battles they fight!"
"I know this, Galen Snowpath!" Garrion had not used his full title in months. "I know this, and I weep, and I hate myself for this! Lords are supposed to be strong, and I'm first in line to the Southsward Otterguard! I would not - I cannot be weak!"
"I've lost a friend before." Galen whispered. Dirk knew, but nobeast else. "He died protecting me for the last time. There were some times that our friendship ran into difficulties, and we argued, and he even ran from me once! We made up, journeyed through woodlands and tundra, and I couldn't have made it without him! Then he died, and all that I remember is a name!"
Garrion's sobs ceased. "A name? You couldn't remember anything now?"
"Yes. I cried for days, but that did nothing. It's fine to cry sometimes, Lord Garrion, even if you know that tears do nothing. It's alright.."
"What is your friend called? Perhaps I can help find his family, and…"
"I don't think I am supposed to tell you. He would not like it."
"Then I allow you to keep it a secret, Galen."
"Lord Garrion?" Galen looked his liege in the eyes. "There is something my friend would have said to me if I lost my sister." He watched the older otter's ears raise in interest. "Take what you have, celebrate what you saved, and mourn not your losses for long."
"Thank you for your advice, Galen. You can go now."
The otter walked out of the room, every footstep like a deafening belltoll. Thank you, fox. Thank you. He walked without turning back. Take what you have, Keetch, and celebrate about saving me. I'll not mourn you for too long. I promise.
DUNCTON, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
"That should do." Dagbert rubbed his iron gauntlet, used as a Conjuration-powered prosthetic. He would not return to Floret soon.
"The forge rarely makes items not to your desires, brother." Arbert said. He had stood in his childhood room's corner for forty-five whole minutes as he watched his brother try on his new paw-of-sorts. As long as it can be moved to Conjure and write, all was well.
Slyte had just returned from his search for Thordan in Viksten, and turned up empty pawed. Being not present in Chillgrave, the otter could have escaped the fortress, and found his way back to his friends. Or ended up in chains and presented to his uncle. Or being speared through the gut and let to rot.
Dagbert liked the boy, Arbert could see, and Thordan would have adored the elder mole's company if he did not break out from the Conjuration. The mole would have had Thordan's mental defenses peeled away for it to work, which he did, but Emmeroloth created a distraction that had proved fatal to their plans.
Thordan's disappearance was of little concern though. Dagbert may have lost a paw, but he had not lost his tongue, and he could soon recount all the information that had been extracted by the black fox. Like some data on the Ward, and the younger Thordan's gift in healing, or even some inner workings on the Bonding of seers.
Gifts and talents the Ward had many, but Arbert could never have guessed that coming back from the dead was one. Thordan Skyward was not omnipotent, but with that he walks closer.
There has to be a way to remove a soul from the world permanently… but what?
"Are you ready for your journey now?" Dagbert was still worried about the whole 'going to Loamhedge' thing, but that place must have held the answers to a lot of questions. After all, King Thordan of Parma went there when he was younger, and had grown only more powerful as a result.
"I am sure. The Badgerlords spoke of it, and told me to talk before attacking 'the enemy', whatever that meant."
"Well, I did tell you time and time before that you should try to think with your head instead of your weapons, but you didn't listen to me, did you?" Dagbert rolled his eyes at the comment. "It takes the ghost of a badger to change your mind? Really?"
"Really."
The Pathway opened, and Arbert stepped through - not to Loamhedge, of course. He knew not its exact location , and he would have to walk for miles.
Behind him, an iron gauntlet clinked. Arbert turned his head to see his brother wave.
"Well, safe journey, brother. And try not to lose a limb."
Arbert smiled. "Will do."
KALDOS, KINGDOM OF DRAVANIA
"You taunted Becker?" Lorcan knew not to smile or rage, so the rather calm otter who displays little to no emotion had to handle two. "You fools, you jolly fools, you actually did it!"
"Well, he and his reactions were quite entertaining." Alfyn Stalwart smiled at his brother's astonishment. Honestly, he had to do little to aggravate the already irascible Becker. "I didn't know Egil here could come up with so many good insults!" He continued while the weasel beamed, like a child expecting sweets after doing his duties for once.
"Alliteration isn't that hard." Egil grinned at the tall otters like they were not the highest of lords who came from another kingdom, but partner poets.
"So how are the defenses?" Sigrun had become more and more like Thordan since his abduction, though she did not grow close to Egil immediately, like Thordan did.
"Good enough." Lorcan Stalwart managed a straight face before replying. "I managed to turn some of my ships into palisades, so the Southards will have a hard time trying to force their way into Kaldos."
"And the harbour chain?" Alfyn asked.
"Secured. I have three hundred beasts guarding it, and Koerthas shall be my base of operations from now on."
"The Southard ships are much more mobile than ours though." Sigrun moaned. "And Lord Becker has built catapults, not to mention the fact that we're getting ourselves pummeled on the Greatrange…" She paused. "Am I getting too worried?"
"Well, you're better than Thordan, at least." At the mention of their king, all beasts turned silent. Being on the defensive meant that nobeast could be spared to find him, nor can any resources be spared for him.
"I have a solution to our problem." Egil piped, turning all heads towards him. "Of sorts."
"Well, my brother Arn's leader of a band of Dravain and Parman mercenaries, so he could help."
"Mercenaries, hmm?" Lorcan rubbed his jaw, as he did all too often.
"We'll hire them." Alfyn proved to be more resolute in his decision-making.
"Can they be trusted?" Sigrun fretted. "I have no problem with vermin, but mercenaries?"
"If they can swing a sword or spear and fight for our side, we can have them." Alfyn smiled for once. "We will have every beast we need."
"I shall write to him then." Egil leapt off his seat and proceeded to Thordan's study.
FLORET, CROWNLANDS, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
"She's getting worse." Bellamy whispered in Ellisiv's ears. When the younger ottermaid stopped talking about the two handsome soldiers that she met in Floret, she knew something was up.
"How so?" The two were ever friends, but with Garrion not in Floret for so long a time, even the very lively Ellisiv had to restrain herself - he did not love him more than the power he brought, but he was a friend, as well as his family.
Her husband was not a particularly attractive beast - bookish and awkward, and has pride too big for an uncrowned head. But he was polite, and was a dutiful son and brother - which distinguished him from her brother Joar, who had been taken ill on campaign, though on the way to recovery he was.
"She's throwing things at servants now, and she's not had a good night of sleep for three days. She wakes, Elli. She wakes in the middle of the night, and weeps! I worry for her."
"I do as well." Ellisiv sighed. "She's been like this after Godred…" she paused. "After he passed, and she said that she would personally retrieve his body from Lorelei."
"What happens if I die too?" Bellamy put a paw on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "If I get married to somebeast I do not love, and die bearing his child? What would Mother say?"
Ellisiv asked herself this same question seasons before, but she knew the answer for her own mother. As for Lady Anezka, though, the ottermaid can say little.
"She'd be proud of you, even if you marry for love, or even if you don't marry at all." Ellisiv put her own on Bellamy's paw. "Most mothers are proud of their children - if they aren't, then they should be made to."
"I'm lucky to have you around, Elli." Bellamy put down her paw, and wound them together in front of her.
"I am certainly fond of your company." Ellisiv smiled as she looked up towards the Southard night sky.
ARNET, CROWNLANDS, KINGDOM OF TRIEL
"So Duke Erlend really gave you that spear?" Prince Bohemond's voice crawled through the air towards Altayras. As King Garmund's firstborn son, he was expected to be crowned junior king alongside his father, but that would have to wait until he turns sixteen.
"King Erlend." His brother stood behind him with a look of disappointment. Prince Wilfred may have been only one season younger than Bohemond, yet he seems almost five years his elder in wisdom.
"Whatever! You sound like Thordan sometimes, you know?" Bohemond grinned at his brother like a serpent while the squirrel watched impassively.
"Can you go without comparing me to him for a week? Please?" The younger brother exasperated by his sibling's antics was an addition to the family who Bohemond and Altayras both seemed to possess.
"Yes, Erlend gave Heavensward to me before he passed away." In a way, meeting Erlend was the beginning of his career, and the end of the otter's.
The next question came out of nowhere. It actually came from Bohemond's mouth, but it would be better to say that it came out of nowhere. "What do you think of him?"
"Er -" Altayras paused. What did he think of Erlend? "He seemed kind, and easy-going."
"That's exactly what Thordan said." Wilfred muttered. "Up to and including the 'seem'."
"I think you knew him better than he did." Bohemond was never one to mince around words, but that came as a surprise to Altayras. How can he say that? The position of a father was sacrosanct? Could Thordan have possibly failed in his duties as a son? Or did Erlend deny his own child?"
"I would doubt that." Altayras forced a smile. "Thordan's a good son."
"Well, that depends on who you ask. He wasn't exactly his parents' favourite. Being the youngest son… " Bohemond continued to ramble on and on, but Altayras was not in any mood to listen.
Instead, he thought of his own siblings. After all, they were close. Or were they?
That was a question not for Altayras to answer.
LEUERS, LAAGMEER, KINGDOM OF PARMA
The ability for shrews to bicker and bicker amongst themselves was fascinating for Lord Renart.
Southsward seemed like a better place than here, though the closest Renart had been to the kingdom beyond the sea was at Vargo. The king sits on the throne and plays his silent part, while the mighty task of governing is left to five lords behind the scenes.
Renart had also never been to Triel - his kind were not welcome there as well - but he knows that there were at least five mouselords behind the king, and two of these were dukes, which are six beasts responsible for military affairs of the whole realm. Needless to say, civil war was a normal occurrence, though the ascendance of centralising rule exerted a stabilising influence.
Parma's kings are a completely different story. Elected by seven, the unlucky lad cannot expect himself to rule as one. If Triel was 'prone' to civil war, then Parman territory is a warzone. The fox was no student of history, but he could not remember the last time a Parman King spend the entirety of his reign at peace.
But these three kingdoms are nothing compared to the cesspool of discord known as the Laagmeer Autonomous Commune of Shrews.
"I say that we ignore the Parmans!" Blommert shouted for the entire hall of tenscore shrews to hear, despite his voice not being heard over the Council of Two Hundred's. "They can go to Hellgates for all we care!"
"No!" came the reply from a much older shrew. Eimert was his name, and fiery was his nature. "Parmans have never interfered with us for centuries! Why would they do so now?"
"Because the new king's a Doman, you speck!"
"Speck? You're too much of a buffoon to use something more sophisticated, are you not?"
"Well, you insipid, fatuous…"
Renart must have lost the will to listen as the entire room descended into personal insults and even a few punches thrown around. He had asked about troops being lent to him, and began his negotiations with small talk about the political situation in Parma Proper. Needless to say, he had aroused the interest of his audience, though the converse was not true.
"Oh hey." A voice from behind made Renart's bones chill. Isangrim.
"You!" Renart turned his head to see the other fox. He was still dressed in his usual cloak, and was still the black fox who he loved to humiliate. But something changed. Was it just Renart, or did Isangrim actually look humbler than before? And why did he smell of otter?
"Where did you come from?" Renart joked.
"Another world, actually." If that was supposed to be a joke in return, it flew over Renart's head.
"So why are you here?" The red fox scratched his head. "You weren't exactly active in the past few months."
"I've been… er, busy." Isangrim, embarrassed? This has got to be something new…
"I have come to encourage the shrews to submit to King Niels." He looked at the shrews, who have yet to bear steel against one another. "The task might just be harder than expected… what's your purpose here?"
"I'm trying to raise a little army here. King Guillame's position gets more and more untenable every day, and I am here to deliver the killing blow to his false regime." Renart pointed a claw at himself. "I don't need your queen. I am an ally, not a puppet, thank you very much."
"I don't think your task can end well, with all the bickering and disunity here." The black fox shook his head in mock worry. "Perhaps you can come back to-"
"No. Nonono." Renart waved a claw at Isangrim. "I have a backup plan, like all foxes should."
Thordan being Thordan, he can't catch a break, can he? Oh, and the storm clouds continue to gather high up in the sky… and Keetch gets a mention! Yay! (Seb would get this.)
Chapter 35 (Shattered) up on 20/21 November!