Glass Winter | Chapter XV

“Lord of the earth and the sea, show us the way, show us the truth. Comfort our troubled hearts in this hour of mourning. Guide our departed friend unto your halls in the sky, alight his way with your forgiveness and your mercy…”

“What a load of bollocks.”

A giant who could only be Tematyr hawked and spat at the snow before somebody shushed him. Pastor Joel continued with the homily.

Which god he was speaking to, Sevt could not say. He couldn’t recall any faith of his past life. Still, the sermon seemed to ring true. It was fair to say that people of all faiths had been dropped into this land. This portly pastor happened to be one of the few to remember the words of his belief and be learned enough to recite them.

Quin lay before the commune, eyes closed and hands folded over his stomach. His torso’s furs were pulled high over the gash in his neck.

After the ceremony, what few people wished to say their farewells approached the body. The rest stayed and conversed. Many, Sevt noticed, were restless to leave and return to their work. Vel was the only one with a smile as he came over to greet the cripple.

“Now, how’s that for you?”

The crutch that he handed him was Sevt’s old cane made taller and strengthened with bone. A curved crosspiece was comprised of two wishbones lashed tightly together with threads of animal fur. Even a handle was added halfway up the staff.

“It’s perfect.”

Sevt rose from his seat on the ground after having to crawl to the ceremony. He would no longer need to stoop or hop to get from one side of the room to the other, and his arm and shoulder could rest from the strain.

“Good,” Vel nodded, “You’ve the seal to thank, and Mal. When he wasn’t politicising or being replaced… or drunk with dreams… he approved of the crutch. Of course, the final say doesn’t rest with him anymore…”

The sentry trailed off as he glanced in Sowne’s way. The new chief quietly conversed with some of the anglers – half of whom were pale with sloughflesh – while Quin’s body was carried away from the common.

“What will they do with him?” Asked Sevt.

“With Quin? The men will take him somewhere private, away from the rest of us here. They will strip him of clothing and any possessions, burn him, then scatter his ashes into the water for the seals to eat.”

“The seal that we eat?”

“It’s just an expression.”

“And who will want to wear a dead man’s clothes?”

“Hey,” Vel cocked his head, “Down here we don’t have a choice. We wear what we get, we eat what we get.”

“We get the leader that we get. And yet, you still went to Malcolm for this.” Sevt rattled the crutch.

“For which you should be grateful.”

“I am. Truly. But I still need—”

“A sled, a sled.”

“I didn’t ask for a crutch.”

“For now, it’s all you can afford. It’s all that Mal could provide.”

“What of the other bones?”

“They’ll be used to make tools. Spear shafts, dirk handles, fishing poles, spoons and forks. Stone for the blades and hooks, of course. Then there are the pickaxes, the best of which are in the hands of Sowne’s scouting party, the ones we’ve made here could use some reinforcement before we mine the hills behind us again.”

“Spoons and forks…?”

“Some like to eat fancy.” Vel grinned, “Can you blame me?”

“You can afford such a luxury but not provide me with materials for a sled?”

“Every opportunity for a better day we use down here, alright? I like me a spoon, what can I say? Says more about who I was before I was dropped. There’s comfort in that. You’re not going anywhere with a sled, regardless, so what do you care?”

“I’m trying to make it out. What are you doing?”

Vel looked like he wanted to hit Sevt, with all that he had. But he was a shorter man, thinner, weaker. Perhaps his high past prevented him from throwing the first punch, though not out of honour or pride.

Why become a sentry, then? Do you like the title more than the job?

An unreliable guard for protecting Sevt from Sowne’s men, in that case. Two of whom were under suspicion already for Quinart’s death. One of whom was still missing.

“I’m doing all that I’m capable of doing.” Vel admitted, “I can wield a spear all fancy enough. And I’ve been taught a thing or two about defence. What chance would I have out there, compared to the chances in here?”

Fear veiled his face and he snapped his neck around, as if he had been touched by a passing ghost.

“But I do my best,” he went on, “And my best is alright for now.”

Vel looked silently at Sevt.

“Listen, let’s keep this between us, alright? With a murderer on the loose and you the next target there’s a good chance they’ll exploit my weakness if they were ever to know. They’d force their way into the shelter and shank you in your sleep.”

“I’m the next target?” Asked Sevt, “Really?”

“Oh, don’t play the fool. Sowne was ready to kill you, the old man, and the girl when you arrived.”

“Quin was marked. And Aurora is ‘cursed’, whatever that means. There are darker things that could target them.”

“Darker things wouldn’t need a murder weapon, nor leave it at the crime scene.”

Not unless they assumed a human form. But I’m being paranoid.

Those spirits on the sea had been formless. What was to say they couldn’t assume a human form? He couldn’t believe it.

“Is ‘Vel’ short for anything?” Sevt changed the subject.

“Of course. ‘Velour’.”

Did his highborn family not know how to spell?

The sentry observed the other’s face and smiled.

“I believe I had an older brother once. He took the valiant name of ‘Valour’, while I became the cushy, purple second son, after the very material I was named for. And so, I brandish a spear with as much grace as a hare or fox ever could.”

Vel demonstrated, lowering the lengthy weapon and giving a good jab and another while trying to hold the thing steady. He laughed.

“I believe that that’s the truth. It’s a pleasant story, but beyond my name and my non-existent talent for combat I can’t remember much to make myself useful. Trouble is no matter how much I practice I’m no good with a spear. I ran when the fight ensued at the old hamlet, and I cowered from the ringwoodite spirits.”

Olga approached.

“Just what are you doing lancing around with a thing like that at a memorial?”

“Apologies, miss. I was demonstr—”

“Madam, thank you very much.”

Panuk approached and acknowledged Sevt, “Hey.”

“Hello again.”

“You’ve met the pastor now, Sevt,” said Olga, “A respectable man for a respectable service. He may not pray to your god nor Quin’s – we may never know – but he’s all that we have.”

How does a man keep such a belly as his in a hellscape like this?

“How are you dealing with the loss, Sevt?”

“Very forward of you.”

How am I dealing with it?

“As well as any man can.”

“A diplomatic answer,” Olga smiled faintly, “I’m more concerned about the girl, Aurora. Have you had a chance to speak with her?”

The girl in question stood next to an ashen, tired woman, and an olive-skinned builder with a soft tuft of curls on his head and as his beard.

“She has a better chance of living under your protection.” Quin had said.

“Not yet. She knew Quin better than I did, she needs time to grieve.”

“What time?” Olga tilted her head, “Time isn’t a luxury that we have down here, neither is life. That’s something Quin’s death has reminded us all, as tragic as it is…”

Why do all the denizens keep claiming we’re ‘down here’?

“…Aurora sees you as her friend, else she would never have helped you cross the commune with your missing leg. Yes, we all saw and remember. Some more fondly than others. Truth of the matter is she’s alone with only those of the sloughflesh and Samaritans like Bair over there to keep her company and safe. Go over and remind her that she still has you as a friend and protector.”

“It’s the least you can do.” Shrugged Panuk.

Sevt acknowledged the both of them, with a final nod to Velour, before stepping his way over. The olive-skinned man, Bair, noticed him first.

“Good morrow.”

“Good morrow,” Sevt stopped in front of the three.

Aurora looked up with bloodshot eyes, saying nothing.

“I’m sorry, Aurora. I know Quin was like family to you.” Sevt glanced between the ashen woman and Bair, “I assume you know who I am.”

The woman walked away.

“Don’t worry about her,” said Bair, “Everyone mourns in their own way. And we do know you. It’s hard not to, even if one was to forget a face.”

The builder’s eyes indicated to Sevt’s stump.

“Yes, well…. It’s certainly been a busy time.”

“How so?”

Learning to manage the pain.

“You’d never think you’d need to learn how to walk again, for something as simple as crossing a room for supper. Usually once is enough.”

Bair scoffed, “That it is.”

He gently placed his hands on Aurora’s shoulders.

“The little one’s been busy as well, helping those who can’t work as well as people like me.”

“I’m not that little.” She replied.

“One day you’ll wish you still were.”

“I’m big enough to understand why something like this has happened.” Aurora wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

Are you, really?

“It’s not just.” Sevt looked around, noting that Sowne was leaving the common, “Somebody must know what really happened. This can’t be forgotten unless somebody wishes it so.”

“Death’s a natural part of life here, green drop.” Said Bair, “You would have seen what happened at the old hamlet.”

“I refuse to believe that the same happened here.”

“Even if it did,” said Aurora, “It’s not right to despair. He would want us to go on.”

“Quin?”

“God.”

This again…

“We’ve been gifted with free will,” Aurora went on, “In the beginning, when all was perfect and pure, we were given a choice on how to live. We chose to descend into a broken world, but free will was never taken from us. Now, we suffer the consequences of that choice. But the Lord above, in His eternal wisdom and love, always holds out his hand, offering us one more chance for salvation. A salvation that doesn’t begin when we die. Peace, as it was in the beginning, is possible even now, for those with the faith to see it.”

She blinked and two tears ran down.

“And yet… and yet for the first time I can’t. I can’t see the light. With something as unjust as this.”

Bair said nothing, keeping his steady hands on her trembling shoulders.

“How come you didn’t feel this way when your family perished with the rest of the old commune?” Asked Sevt.

“I did. Faith was what I turned to that day, because for the first time it was the only thing that made sense. Once the scriptures were learned, all that was left was prayer, with the belief for something better. Now….”

The remaining denizens thinned as they returned to their posts and shelters.

“You said it yourself, however, didn’t you?” Noted Sevt, “We live in a broken world. It’s just the way of things. Doesn’t make it any easier, and I don’t think God intended it to be easy. As long as we persist, and don’t let the pain nor the grief overwhelm us, then we’ll be alright. We’ll grow stronger from it. Accepting that imperfection’s the hardest part.”

And, I suppose, faith was never meant to be easy.

Sevt himself wasn’t prepared to admit it, so he refrained and grew quiet.

Aurora was quiet as well. Watching somebody off to the side. A group of boys accosted the pastor, who was reciting a final prayer over the grounds where Quin had rested some moments ago.

“Hey!” Aurora strode over to them.

This isn’t like her.

The four boys stopped shoving Joel.

“Wraith girl.” Said one with peeling red skin.

“This isn’t like you, Wilbur. You don’t hurt the innocent.”

“He isn’t innocent much blessing a demon, is he?”

Wilbur strode towards the approaching Aurora, quickly. Sevt intervened before the other attacked.

“Knock it off, boy.”

“Hey you knock it off, grandpa!”

Sevt’s crutch was gone and the ground knocked the wind from his chest. Both the culprit and Wilbur proceeded to kick him. It would have been painful enough without his numerous wounds.

He saw Aurora pushing one of them away, and soon enough Bair was rushing to help.

“Shame on the lot of you.” He yelled. “Get back!”

“Hey if the man can’t defend himself,” replied one of the boys, “then that’s his own fault.”

“And you’re a child. If one of these ‘demons’ attacked you, you’d do no better.”

“These are the rules down here, don’t you realise?”

“Realise what? That we shouldn’t protect each other regardless of where we’ve come from or what we’ve done? You’re no better than the demons you hate…”

On and on it went. The sky was swimming. What were once stars now streamed over the commune. The snowstorm that prevented it all. The denizens wouldn’t be in this situation if not for the damn blizzard.

How I can protect Aurora if a boy can disarm me?

“QUIET!!”

The voices ceased in an instant. Sevt strained his neck to see the source of the cry; Aurora was looking around with eyes of ire.

“Don’t any of you realise that this is what they want? To divide us and set us against each other? How have we even reached the point where we curse and fight over blessed grounds?”

Wilbur said nothing. Another boy, tall for his age and sly as the cold, stepped forward.

“This is the way of things, girl.”

“Malcolm,” Aurora replied, “You can’t be named after a leader of peace while practicing the very things he preaches against.”

“Preaches? Fat Joel over here preaches more sense than that oaf. It’s because of him that we’re more vulnerable than ever. No. If my legacy relies on adhering to that then I’ll do everything in my power against it. We have the power to change things, Aurora, not these old badgers. If anything, our anger can repel these demon bastards should they decide to attack us again. You can’t fight evil with placidity, as you try to so desperately do.”

“That’s enough now.” Bair placed himself between the little Malcolm and Aurora, “You’re going to leave.”

“Or what?”

“You are going to leave—”

“Or what? Our parents are dead, dipshit. Sowne doesn’t care what happens here,” Little Malcolm made a step towards Bair, “Those anglers he was talking to, what do you think that was about? What do anglers have to do with Quin’s death? Jack shit, is what.”

“Mind your tongue, boy.”

Little Malcolm took another step forward.

“Or what? You going to hit a boy?”

Sevt looked around for his cane, only a few feet away, and tried to reach for it while remaining quiet. He wouldn’t be able to help from the ground if Malcolm and Bair’s stare down escalated into anything worse.

But the boys turned and left, walking around Sevt, without so much as a glance back at the company.

“Gods, how do they become so brazen?” Bair spat on the ground, “And you can’t do much when they do. Ain’t that right?”

He was looking at Sevt with an uneasy smile. The two men chuckled.

And yet they’re the future.

As Bair helped him up and asked if he was hurt, Sevt observed Aurora’s composure. She wasn’t afraid, that much was clear, but neither was she at peace. A storm brewed behind her eyes, not unlike the storm Sevt had seen in Quin after witnessing the remains of the hamlet. While that storm had been one of resentment and agony, this one spoke of wrath.

Don’t, Aurora.

He couldn’t know what she intended to do or say, but it couldn’t transpire. Sevt wouldn’t let it. How little could be prevented in his condition, however, after the day’s conflict, was becoming clearer.

“Get me Vel the sentry.” Sevt said to Bair, “As much as I would be lost without your help or my cane’s, there’s only so much I can do. Tell Velour that I need a sled. And I need it soon.”

~~~~~

Gar Darron had never seen a contraption like it before. A lantern dangling on a chain one moment, protruding the next with the proper adjustment, forever aglow, a closeable light by a sheath, and a heated spear should one require it. From everything the scout remembered of the world before this one, it didn’t involve staffs such as these.

While the lads climbed the four hundred feet of rock face beneath the lowest perforation – a jagged gape in the wall of the subterranean shore – the older scouts waited below, with Gar Darron holding the light. In these deepest bones of the world, night turned into day when the lantern’s shutters were open.

Renoir, the youngest man in their party, led Jerard and Dhruv up above, wedging pitons into the rock every thirteen feet to which they could tie their rope. It all seemed like a jape, Gar Darron realised, as he glanced at the rest of them on the ground. The grizzled Holland amused him the most.

It was an inspiring speech by Sowne. But how experienced are scouts, really, in climbing?

“We’re not cut out for this, are we, Gar?” Holland met the other’s gaze, “Alas, we don’t have much of a say when it comes to saving our souls. Keep your eyes on the lads above, why don’t you?”

“Quiet.” Sinner was watching the darkness behind them, with a hand on his dagger at the ready.

As if it would save them from what was down here.

“Keep your mind sharper than your blade, man.” Said Drummond from behind his drapes of hair as he leaned forward from the boulder beneath him, “Sowne chose us besides our careful eyes and ears; we’re sound in the head when it comes to getting the job done. I’m serious, relax your grip, Sinner. You can’t protect the party by putting us more on edge than is necessary, yourself especially.”

“Still, be quiet.” The one-eyed scout removed his hold of the dagger and took a seat by the water.

It was still as a mirror, gold and red as the light in the staff. Gar Darron would be a fool to deny his own dread at their place here, but there was nothing to be done.

Holland sighed.

“What can a man do when faced with fear, gentlemen?”

“It matters little.” Said Reyansh while he sharpened an axe with a whetstone.

“I don’t believe that. However, we choose to tackle fear only because, to a certain degree, it matters to us.”

The wise old man does realise how much Reyansh’s nerves can be ground, doesn't he?

“If we run,” continued Holland, “it follows, and its shadow grows longer. Facing it, instead, leads to inevitable infection; one can’t destroy fear without destroying a part of themselves. No. What remains when we neither run nor fight—”

“Shut it.” Sinner turned to face him, “Any person with years behind them knows the truth of sitting in fear, which still destroys a part of the man, you fucker.”

“Now, there’s no need for that—”

“Cunt. You and Drummond both. Cunts who can’t keep their mouths shut. You love to talk fear and action until you’re face to face with it. How did you fare at the hamlet, or on this sea?”

“Well enough.” Replied Drummond, “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

You very much are.

None of them questioned Drummond when he came running back in the commune. Sowne had instructed them not to; to evade the fear and suspicion, and focus solely on the mission. And well enough. Treating Drummond as a suspect in Quinart’s murder wasn’t something they had the time for, even if Eron was the more likely culprit.

And Drummond did know how to handle himself even around their company, Gar Darron thought, as he watched the man tap the boulder beneath him with the blade of his dirk. Perhaps he had seen Quin as a real threat, and did what had to be done. Perhaps.

So long as the rest of us don’t turn like that musher, we’ll all be swell.

They heard the lads yell from above as three lengths of rope were tossed down for the others. Gar Darron paid no mind to the darkness behind him as he ascended the wall.

All should be swell.