Flames of Awakening: Faemoch Cycle Book 1 (10 page)

Chapter
Sixteen

Grundar's sobbing had given way to a
somber emptiness in the four days since their escape from the tower. He didn't
seem exactly sad to Bergar. Rather, he seemed absent of any emotion at all. He
had no words to say to comfort his father. He had no words at all. He tried a
hundred times to think of how to approach his father and tell him that he was
still here. There were simply no words.

Just tell him. It will ease his grief
.

"Not yet. You do not understand
him like I do. He will not accept something like this. He is a proud man. I
don't even think he has accepted that I'm gone yet," Bergar said to the
voice in his head. "And here I am gathering wood for my own funeral
pyre."

Life is troublesome, isn't it? You
could hum or sing or something to pass the time. That is sort of my job. So, if
you intend to be me for the rest of our awkward lives, you should probably act
the part.

"I don't really know any
songs."

None? Surely your people have music.
I have heard  at least a half-dozen bawdy ditties from men in your very clan.

"Well, there is one. It's an old
favorite of mine. My father sang it while we worked together in the summer
months." Bergar started singing the song. The beautiful tenor of his voice
spun through the air, lifting his spirits and reminding him of home. He
finished gathering and walked into camp, still singing.

"Wha? Where'd ye hear that
song?" Grundar interrupted.

"Um . . . one of the men back in
your camp was singing it," Bergar lied.

"Oh. I used t' sing it to me
boy. ‘Tis an old workin' song. Special to me people. It tells the story o' the
great Haloin, founder o' Werlgart. I'd hoped Bergar'd sing it t' me
grandchildren one day." With that, the grieving clan chief turned his gaze
to the bed of sticks and twigs that held Bergar's lifeless husk.

Grundar dropped the sticks he was
carrying to wipe tears from his eyes. Not to seem weak, he bent low and
rearranged them, placing them beside the pyre.

He loves you. Know that.

I know
, Bergar thought.
I wish that I
had not failed him
.

You didn't fail. You had no choice in
the matter.

I did. I could have fought more, or
better. I could have survived longer, somehow. Not given in to the pain.

There's no dishonor in losing your life
the way you did.

Their conversation was interrupted
when Jaxius laid a hand on his shoulder from behind. Bergar jumped at the
unexpected gesture.

"It is time. I think you would
best remember him," Jaxius said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Right."

Take your time. Do you know what to
say?

For my own ceremony? No. Not at all
, Bergar thought.

Just take it slow and repeat what I
say. Go and stand beside Grundar. Clear your throat.

Bergar reluctantly did as he was
told. The thought of delivering the eulogy at his own funeral felt wrong and
vaguely satisfying at the same time.

Life

"Life,"

In all its wondrous brightness is
fleeting
.

"In all its wondrous brightness
is fleeting."

And in this case, too short.

"In this case, too short."

Bergar was a good man. A noble man. A
great son. A brave warrior
.

"Bergar was a good man. A noble
man. A great," Bergar choked on the words. "son.... A brave
warrior."

He fought for what mattered to the
end. And we shall miss him.

"He fought..."

Say it. For your father. He fought
for what mattered to the end. And we shall miss him.

"He fought for what mattered to
the end. And we shall miss him." Tears streamed down his cheeks, matching
those on his father's aging face.

This is Bergar no longer.

Please
, Bergar pleaded.
I... I don't
think I can
.

You must. If you don't your father
will not think you are able to journey into the next world.

He slumped and said, "th... this
is Bergar no longer."

He hunts forever in the Wildlands.
May he hunt well.

"He hunts forever in the
Wildlands. May he hunt well."

Jaxius handed Grundar the torch that
he had prepared. Grundar thrust it into the pyre, his hands unsteady at the
dreaded task. The dry wood smoked for a brief moment and then erupted into
licking flames. Tears of regret wet the ground around the fire. The three
sorrowful men stood watching the curls of their smoky lamentations rise into
the wintry sky.

Chapter
Seventeen

Almost two weeks had passed since
Fylzia's demise and her evil tower's destruction. The group had made good
progress in their journey home. Grundar still stared into the distance and
followed along, more a hollow shell than a man. He ate little and spoke less.
His grief had overcome him completely.

Jaxius had raised a questioning
eyebrow when Tolian came to him to volunteer for hunting duties, but did not
argue. And so, Bergar and Tolian had quite a bit of time for uninterrupted
conversation while hunting for food. They decided that they must tell at least
Jaxius before they got back to Bergar's clan. But the more pressing concern had
become the changes that Jaxius had undergone during the last battle with
Fylzia's raiders. Thus, they waited to catch Jaxius alone after the evening
meal. The men normally huddled near the fire for warmth, so chances to find
Jaxius apart were few. But one night close to the border, the camp needed more
firewood. When Jaxius volunteered to get more, Tolian, at last, saw a chance to
speak with the half-elf.

"I can come help," Bergar
said. "I could use a stretch anyway."

"Alright," Jaxius replied.

They walked into the darkness of the
forest, picking up whatever dry fallen timbers they could find.

"Jaxius," Bergar began the
conversation he and Tolian had been practicing most of the day. "Look, I
wanted to talk to you."

"I know."

Bergar's mind raced. What did he
know? Had he guessed what they wanted to talk to him about? Or had he guessed
even deeper that something was wrong with Tolian? They were absolutely not
ready to have that conversation.

Jaxius interrupted his thoughts.
"I know you have seen me doing some odd things lately, old friend. I
assure you, I have no idea what is happening."

Relief washed over Bergar. He found
his place in the well-rehearsed conversation and said, "Yes, well. I was
wondering if you knew anything about what that little girl, Chlora, meant. She
said that you were cousins. Then I heard her say something about knowing you.
What was that?"

"I don't know," Jaxius
replied. "All I know is when she grabbed me there was this bright light. I
saw her eyes. Not the little girl eyes, but ancient eyes. Grown eyes. Feminine.
Beautiful. I felt full of life. Full of warmth.  Like the entire world had
seized my soul and . . . and breathed into me. Then, the light faded. And I was
back in the freezing night. The snow and the forest around me looked drab and
dark. Surely, you have heard some tale or history or something about Chlora,
the little faerie girl who inhabits the forest of Hawklos?"

I have not. Perhaps there is
something in your lore, Bergar?

Bergar scrunched his eyebrows
together and thought deeply. He wracked his mind to think if he had ever heard
of this Chlora, or any fae creatures in the forests, before. His people had
lived at the forest's edge between Nordras and Hawklos for hundreds of years.
After a few painful moments, he gave up.

"No. I have not."

Then inspiration struck him.
"Wait, there was a man who may know, back in Grundar's clan."

There was?

"He was an elder," Bergar
answered Tolian aloud. "He stays in a tent by himself and almost never
comes out. He is ancient and comes to the border only because he has known
nothing else. He was once a warrior but is a healer and shaman now. I bet he
may know."

Why was I never introduced? He should
have been the FIRST person that I spoke to.

"Good," Jaxius said.
"I will go straight to him when we are back. But now, we need to get back
to camp."

"Sure. But first, I have another
question."

What? We hadn't talked about another
question.
This time,
it was Tolian's turn to fret about unexpected conversations.

"What is it like?" Bergar
asked. "When the changes happen, that is."

"Life. Like everything that
makes life worthwhile. Like that brilliant flash of light that Chlora made, all
over again. Except deep inside of me trying to burst out."

Bergar smiled, and they walked
companionably back to the warm glow of the campfire, unloading their armfuls of
wood.

Chapter
Eighteen

Snow started falling again the next
day. Grundar indicated that this snow felt like the start of a winter storm.
Thus, less time was spent talking, and more time was spent on pushing forward.
Jaxius and Tolian had not lived in the frozen north for more than a few months,
but they both knew that a winter storm when you were away from shelter could be
lethal. The small campfires of their previous camps would no longer stave off
the cold.

Grundar's disposition had grown more
agitated and grumpy, a sure sign to Tolian that he had started to accept his
son's fate. The silence allowed much time for the travelers to consider the
past several weeks, their thoughts punctuated by the steady crunch-crunch of
the snow under their feet.

You know, I used to really enjoy
using those hands,
Tolian said.

What are you talking about?

Oh, nothing really. Just lamenting
that I will never be able to actually use my finely wrought fingers and hands
again. There has to be some way I can be in control of my own body, with you
relegated to the background. At least temporarily. Did the Queen Witch say
anything about how to swap places? Oh, how I wish to trade places! But that's
always the story, isn't it?

Umm . . . she didn't really say
anything about trading anything. She just said that I could either share this
body with you or be an undead-thing in my old body.

Wait. She said share, though. So that
means maybe, however remote, there is a chance that I could be where you are. I
mean she didn't really say share control of . . . but she did say share. And I
know you can't really trust the Unworthy Witch, but if there is a possibility,
I have to try.
Tolian
pondered their predicament.

If you can do it, I would gladly give
you this ineffective body. I am getting very tired. Your muscles are minuscule.
They tire easily.

You just aren't using them correctly.
That's where years of practice would help. But since you don't have that . . .
But that's neither here, nor there. What we need is to figure out a way around
the Unworthy Witch's curse.

What do you know of the Unworthy
Witch anyway, storyteller?

Oh, well, the stories are spread
across the face of the known world. She was once the beloved queen of the gods.
She was cast out by her husband because of a quarrel. Legends say that being
torn from her lover like she was, drove her absolutely mad and placed in her
blackened heart a deep hatred for all men. She defied her former husband by
corrupting his creations and forcing a false life on their dead bodies. That's
how she came to be known as the Queen of the Undead.

She thrives on upsetting the natural
order that her paramour created. Stories come out of Estrun far to the south
and east of here, that she, long ago, did anything and everything she could to
create confusion here in the mortal world.

Tolian went on,
She doesn't trust
anyone and has been known to be less than trustworthy herself. While she never
outright lies to anyone, her words drip with guile. I don't think we can fully
trust what she said about sharing my body, but I have to believe something.

I know. I am not the type of person
to help you figure a way out of this. I have no real experience in life. I
haven't traveled the world like you. All I know is joking with my clan and
trying to live up to my father's expectations. Sorry, I can't help more.
Bergar sighed and shook his head.

Maybe you can
, Tolian said.
Can you go to
sleep?

While walking? I don't think so.
That's sort of . . . impossible.

No, I mean: can you meditate? Let
your mind simply empty itself. Talking about Estrun reminded me of it. It's a
technique I heard of while traveling in the south. For a short time, Jaxius and
I were accompanied by a world-wanderer from Yema, an island just west of
Estrun. Yema is a haven for those seeking mental awakening and enlightenment .
. .

Enlighten… what? You lost me.
Bergar was sure Tolian had cracked
under the pressure of sharing his body with the barbarian.

Well. Basically, it's a . . .

Never mind. I don't really want to
know. Just tell me what I need to do. I am tired of feeling so tired. The young
man whined to his friend.

Fine. Think about the sun.

What about it?

No, just the sun. Just get in your
mind one picture of the sun.

What time of year is it?

It doesn't matter. Just any image of
the sun. Just remember one time that you saw the sun, on any given day. It
really doesn't matter.

What if the day I am thinking of was
cloudy, does that matter?
Bergar wondered.

Grrr. Yes. Just the sun. No clouds.
No birds. JUST THE SUN!

Whatever you say. If you need it to
be so specific, why don't you just think of it yourself.

Aaargh.
Tolian screamed. "I want to KILL
you!"

Tolian landed flat on the ground, his
hands wrapped tightly around his own throat.

"Want to kill who?" Jaxius
asked turning around to see his friend on his back in the snow. "Calm
down. I know we have been pushing hard, friend. It will be fine. We will get
there. I promise. Grundar says it will just be a day or two more if we keep the
pace up."

"What? I did it!" Tolian
exclaimed. "Thank the gods. One more day inside like that and I would have
killed him!"

"What are you talking
about?" Jaxius asked. "Grundar, I think we need to take a
break."

Grundar grumbled some form of
acceptance and dropped his burden to the snow covered ground.

I think it's time we tell him.
Tolian thought.

No!
Bergar argued.
He will want to tell father. And we
can't do that. I don't have an answer for him yet.

Fine, I can wait. But he must know.
Soon.

Not that I could stop you. I am just
glad to feel . . . nothing.