Bound by Fire

Chapter 34

  The ice cracked under Lochien's feet as he shuffled down the road. Wind slammed against his body and cut through his clothes as if to impede his progress.

  Even the wind knows of my treason. It never forgets.

  Rocks littered the landscape around him, and waves from the ocean crashed against the shore.

  His heart hung heavy in his chest. Thoughts of his past that had been buried for all these years had resurfaced in that dark forest. Even after he had done his best to forget everything.

  My wife and child returned to the land long ago. I doubt even their bones remain. How did things end up this way?

  Lochien pulled his cloak tighter around him in an effort to fight off the chill. If only the ice around his heart yet remained he would have been more welcoming to the cold.

  He had been dormant all these years, tucked under the ground for more than six lives of men. Dagfinn had cursed him with long life as a 'reward' for his service. He wasn't immortal, but his aging was so slow that he had been unable to remain in any one place for more than a few years. People noticed when everyone around him grew old, and yet he remained the same.

  Lochien had finally grown tired of wandering, and sealed himself away in a dark crypt like some foul creature. Ages past, and still he slept.

  It was only when Rodach disturbed the Arguros Chest that he had awoken. The skiima inside was so powerful that he could feel its presence, even half a world away.

  As if one curse hadn't been bad enough, Urania had cursed him once more. She'd turn me into a skiima. I suppose I deserve it, but damn it Urania. Why can't you just let me rest in peace?

  One thing still worried him.

  How did Urania end up sealed inside of the Arguros Chest? And, in that case, what really happened to Lord Usta inside those ruins?

  This fact, in particular, puzzled Lochien. Based on the research I did within the scholar libraries, I know, for a fact, that Lord Usta was infected by a skiima. His symptoms matched Rodach's in every way.

  What happened to you after you wrote your final words in that diary, Usta?

  Lochien grabbed his flask from one of his hidden pockets and took a swig of it. He rattled the nearly empty bottle.

  Gotta refill it when I get to the next town. I guess I've become a drunkard after all these years. He chuckled, a hoarse sound, foreign to his own ears. I'm going to need a lot more liquor on the road ahead.

  He returned the flask to his pocket, and blinked his eyes to clear the tears the liquor brought forth. His thoughts were scattered of late.

  Ever since Urania touched me I haven't been able to think straight.

  That's right. You're a silly old man, a voice said.

  He whirled around, and looked about him. “Who's there? Who said that?” Lochien held his breath and remained still for several moments, but nothing moved around him. The only sounds were the beating of his own heart, and the wind whipping around him.

  You won't find me, silly. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

  “Where are you?” Lochien called out.

  The voice came again, this time clearer, and louder than before. I'm here inside of you. I'll always be with you.

  Lochien shook his head. I must truly going be mad. Maybe if I just ignore it the voice will go away.

  The flask was back in his hand in a flash, and he drained it. I need to be drunk right now.

  One foot moved in front of the other as he plodded down the icy road. As the liquor set in he'd occasionally stumble, and he even began to hum a tune, the name of which he had long ago forgotten.

  Do you want to play a game with me? The voice echoed

  He stopped, and held his head in his hands. “Get out of my head,” Lochien shouted.

  Come on, let's play a game, the voice persisted.

  What sort of madness is this? Lochien thought. Did Urania do this to me too? She thinks to defeat me with voices in my head? “What sort of game would have me play...”

  The sound of laughter came from all around him. He could almost picture the child running playfully up and down the road. It's a riddle, the child's voice said. If you figure it out, you win.

  “Oh? And, what shall I win?”

  More laughter followed. Why, you win me of course. I cannot tell you my name until you solve the riddle.

  Riddles were something he had especially prided himself at in his younger days. Lochien was confident in his ability to solve whatever riddle she might throw at him.

  Besides, he thought, whether I guess the answer or not doesn't truly matter. It's just some mind game that's being played on me.

  Lochien sat on a nearby rock, and rested his hands on his knees. “Okay, I'm ready for the riddle when you are.”

  There was another giggle, followed by a snort that echoed around him. The wind seemed to pick up in response and carried the sound away from his ears.

  I sink on land

  But I float in the ocean

  And I'm scared to be seen

  What am I?

  “A turtle,” Lochien answered without pausing. “Quick in the ocean, slow on land, and always hiding in their shells. That's a turtle for you.”

  Sounds of clapping greeted his response. Oh, you're so very smart. I knew you'd get the answer right away. Shall we do more? The voice asked.

  “More?” he answered. “I thought you'd tell me your name after I answered correctly.”

  There was no answer for a moment. Then, quieter than before, the voice answered. Yes, I will tell you my name. It is one you know, though.

  Lochien chuckled. “I've lived a long time. I know many names.”

  Yes, b—but my name is... The voice said reluctantly.

  He was starting to lose his patience. There wasn't time for him to be sitting around idly playing games like this. “Come now, out with it. I'll turn into a block of ice if I sit here much longer.”

  Another voice, one familiar to him more than any other, rang inside of his head. You've forgotten your own daughter? You've forgotten Lesetta?

  His eyes widened, and he leapt to his feet. “No, it can't be,” he shouted at the voices.

  Lochien wiped the wetness from his eyes. “You're dead. Both of you. How could you be here? It's not possible.”

  We're here inside of you daddy, the voice of Lesetta said.

  He shook his head. “No, you're not. You're not here. I've gone mad.”

  Please, don't be sad, my love, the voice of Alys, his deceased wife, pleaded to him.

  It was her voice that hurt him the most. He missed both of them, but his love for Alys had been so strong, so absolute, that he could feel his heart shattering anew.

  What have you done to me, Urania? Was this part of your curse too? To suffer the voices of my deceased family, and yet never be able to touch them? You are cruel indeed. Would that I had died with them so long ago.

  My love, the sound of Alys's voice again, do not wish that upon yourself. It is not yet time for you to join us.

  Daddy, I want to be with you forever, Lesetta echoed.

  “I—I can't...”

  Let's play a new game daddy.

  Dear, you look ill. You should rest.

  Daddy, I missed you so much. Mommy told me about all you've done.

  I had no choice but to tell Lesetta.

  The voices pummeled him from all sides. Lochien covered his ears, but the voices only got louder and louder until they seemed to be screaming at the tops of their lungs at him.

  His vision blurred, and the world spun. Then he fell, and darkness enveloped him.

  He awoke sometime later to sound of creaking wood. Lochien propped himself onto his elbow and looked around, his eyes struggling to focus in the now diminished light. He was in the back of a wagon being pulled by the largest horse he'd ever seen. Crates and barrels were stacked neatly in the back, and seated in front of him was a man that looked bad
ly in need of a haircut.

  The man turned, and half-faced Lochien. “You're awake, eh? Thought you was dead there for the longest time.” He laughed loudly, and slapped his knee.

  I don't see the humor in that.

  “Who are you? Where am I?” Lochien's throat felt dry, and his head was sore. He wasn't sure if it was from the fall, or the liquor. Either way, the pounding in his head was killing him.

  The hairy man smiled. “The name's Jocan, and you have the pleasure of hogging up space in the back of my wagon. Hope you've enjoyed the ride.”

  Lochien sat up, and leaned against the side of the wagon. “Pleased to meet you, Jocan. I'm called Lochien. What happened to me?”

  Jocan shrugged. “Your guess is good as mine. I found ya face down in the road. Thought some bandits had left ya for dead. They're always plundering poor folks on this road, and naught has been done 'bout 'em.”

  Lochien remembered everything all at once. The voices, their names, and the flood of memories that had poured into him like a waterfall. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. After a moment, he felt composed enough to speak. “Jocan, where are you heading?”

  “Well,” the man said over his shoulder, “I be heading east to Rayvale. Got some tradin' to do there.” He turned back towards the front, and clicked his tongue at the horse.

  “Rayvale, you say? Do they have ships for hire there?”

  He had heard of Rayvale in the past. It was one of the largest, and most prosperous cities in the North-Eastern side of the continent. The fishermen there were some of the most daring, braving the tides and ice when none else would.

  Many died each year, but the ones that did survive were rewarded with great wealth for their efforts. It was the only place in all the world where fishermen were treated like royalty.

  Jocan laughed. “You can find a ship for anything in Rayvale. Providing you have the coin, that is. They take great pride in their ships in that city.”

  Lochien nodded. “Coin won't be a problem. If you don't mind, I'd like to accompany you as far as the city, Jocan.”

  The big man laughed, his shaggy head of hair seeming to move on its own. “No worries. Truth be told, I welcome the company. Tis a lonely road that I travel.”

  You and I both, my friend. Mine is the loneliest road of them all.

  He pulled his cloak about him, and closed his eyes. Best that he rest up while he still could. The trip he was about to take would leave him little time for rest.

  Lochien's mind drifted, and sleep came to him. He dreamed of a small house nestled against the edge of a mountain. Spring flowers spread across the field in front of him, and a girl ran around, her arms outstretched and a smile upon her face. He turned at a touch on the shoulder, and was lost in the deep hazel eyes of the woman next to him.

  He woke with a start some time later as the wagon came to a stop.

  “Stopping for the night. Care to join me for some bacon?” Jocan asked.

  Lochien nodded, and mumbled his acceptance before lowering himself carefully onto the frozen ground.

  What was that? A dream from ages past, yet so vivid. I could smell the flowers, hear my daughter and smell my wife. It was almost real.

  He shook his head. No, he thought to himself. No, it's far from real.

  The wind had died down along the way, but it picked up for a moment. Daddy? Daddy, where are you? The voice of Lesetta howled.

  Lochien stumbled mid-step and nearly fell.

  Jocan eyed him wearily. “You sure you're all right? Mayhap you need more rest.”

  My love.

  Daddy, let's go visit Jakob.

  Oh, how hard it must be for you to live alone.

  I love you daddy.

  Lochien fought to block them out, but the voices persisted. Jocan's eyes were fixed on him. “Perhaps you're right, Jocan. I—I don't feel well.”

  He headed back to the wagon, and wrapped himself in his cloak, shivering against more than the cold.

  Please, he whispered inside his mind, please, leave me alone. I need more time.

  Daddy, you're silly, Lesetta said. We have all the time in the world.