Alarik's Crusade

CHAPTER 18: LIQUID COURAGE

It was fifty steps from camp when she had the first wave of regret, and it was fifty steps from camp when it was entirely obscured by the dense brush of the rainforest. The venture suddenly felt foolish and unnecessary. It seemed now like the kind of game she’d heard the young boys in Vanda would play. They’d wait for a horse to go galloping by on a trade route, hop in its path and hop back just before they were trampled. It was a risk of serious injury just on a whim and for a laugh.

She shook her head and did what she could to push the doubts out of her mind. In her head she thought of Inaya and what she would have done. She crouched, staying lower to the ground and crept along the foliage with as little sound as possible. She knocked an arrow in the bow, wondering how she’d ever properly aim the thing. There were times in her youth she’d see archers hit targets from so far she could barely see where it landed. It was yet to be seen if she could even shoot it without it dropping out of her hands.

Suddenly, deep into the foliage she heard a rustling. Falling deeper into her awkward crouch, she tried setting the arrow on the string, preparing herself both mentally and physically. Just imagine if it was an animal which she could bring back! The pride on Alarik’s face, the relief from Farmund, and perhaps, she wondered, a look of respect from Inaya. She would finally have proved her worth.

Her heart was racing. The thrill of the hunt was a genuine, real thing - something she’d never appreciated before, nor thought she ever would. She released the bowstring, ready for the dull sound of an arrow hammering into flesh of whatever beast was lurking in the heavy leaves and brush of the rainforest.

The surge of excitement was just as sharp as the pain of disappointment when the arrow fell harmlessly to the ground, having slipped from her grasp. She discovered it was much harder to fire an arrow than it looked. Unfortunately, she had no time to dwell on damaged pride. She frantically picked up the arrow and with shaky hands tried to set it right again, only to have it drop harmlessly once more when she tried to fire it. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the oppressive rainforest sun and the sudden stress and heat of the moment, and she hated herself for wishing she had Farmund at her side.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered as she tried again. “Come on!” as it fell loose for the third time.

“Don’t shoot - please!” came a voice from where the rustling had been. She swore she had heard it before, somewhere. It sounded worried, which came as a relief, but also coarse and rough. As a precaution, she picked up the arrow and tried to maintain a semblance of pride, like she could theoretically have used it for something beyond thrusting it like a dagger.

Two hands raised in the air came from the bushes. Slowly, a man emerged, clad in red all the way up to a mask that covered his nose and below. Milky white, empty eyes were open wide in shock and fright. Distantly, Edda wondered if it was an action the blind did out of human habit, or if the man could indeed see in some other, strange way.

“I was foraging in this area - I mean no harm!” he said, to which Edda simply stared. “Are you… are you doing the same? I hope you’re not hunting for me. I fear your people have had a grave misunderstanding of who I am.”

“I know who you are,” she said, finally finding her words. They came out far shakier than she planned, especially considering his hands were up and hers were clutching a bow, even one she clearly had no experience in using. “You’re Majad. You’re the one that… I know what you did to Shal, and Cendric, and maybe even Hilda too!”

“What has happened to Cendric?” he said, showing concern as strongly as he could through his eyes and eyebrows, seeing as the rest of his face was covered. “I haven’t heard a thing.”

“He’s lost, somewhere. We’re searching for him.”

“Lost! Oh, no, the rainforest can be a terrible place to be lost. And as a navigator, as well - how awful! I can assure you I will do everything in my power to have his safe return.”

Edda did not look or feel any more calm than she had at the start of this encounter. She remembered back to the first time seeing the man. Cloaked in shadow behind the two Hashadi leaders, menacing and frightening. He had not spoken a word, then. Now he spoke softly, kindly, as much as his rough voice would allow. It didn’t feel right. “Why are you… why do you sound that way now?”

“The way I’m speaking, you mean?” Majad asked. “First - may I put my hands down?”

Edda nodded, and they fell at his side, but he maintained a respectful distance. Little did she know how fast he could close it, and how useless that bow would be even if she had known how to fire it.

“I… I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m no bodyguard - not like your man. I was just asked to stand behind them, because… My eyes, you see. I’ve been told they look… I’ve just been told it’s not easy to look at me, and there are times I make people uncomfortable. They had asked me to stand behind them to look fierce, and menacing. My voice - a hunting accident from when I was a child left me this way - I think they thought it would add to the whole display.” He chuckled. “It seems silly now.”

“My friend is in a coma because of what you did to him. Don’t expect me to believe you now.” Perhaps it was still the bow she was holding, or the soft manner in which Majad spoke, but she was growing in confidence. Maybe she had more control than she thought. Just like hunting, just like standing up to Inaya, this was just another step along the way to asserting herself.

When asked, Majad’s shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry. I do hope he recovers, and the Khorsuli woman seems to be taking great care of him. But I promise you, I was only trying to help! The elixir I gave him - I saw how nervous he was, every day. I knew he wanted to go home. It was something to relieve the stress of the rainforest, and - he didn’t listen to me! He took too much, and then it all just spiralled out of control…”

“Why would you give him any at all? I thought you were just observing us…”

“I was, but I saw he was in pain. I just know how great our elixirs can be. It’s how I can ‘observe’, at all. They gave me something that’s not quite sight, but more of a sense of my surroundings. A snake bit me in my teenage years, and I fell out of consciousness for days. Our people tried their best to save me, but hardly noticed my eyes were still open and staring directly towards the sun. It was Adilash and his elixirs that brought me back, and it was also the elixirs that returned to me my senses. I just wanted to help him the way they helped me. The way Adilash helped me. I’m so sorry,” he said, falling to his knees. “My own people will never forgive me either. I’ve made such a grave mistake.”

Edda’s bow dropped slightly. Majad feigned a twitch as if he was afraid she’d draw it on him in anger. “It’s… it’s okay, I... “ she lost herself in thought, how she had seen time and time again people treat her dear Farmund as an unintelligent oaf, some behemoth that had no brain in his head. His size belied his gentle nature and calming presence, but often they’d see the armour and the weapons and think that he’d be little more than a brute. She felt sympathy for the man.

She approached him slowly and cautiously, until she rested a hand on his shoulder as his head hung low. Farmund would say to be cautious, but he was not here. This was her choice, and her chance to read the measure of the man. “I understand. You were trying to help. What exactly did you try to give him?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s for nerves, normally. When some of us in the rainforest feel overwhelmed by the… well, you’ve been here. The danger that never seems to leave you! It can be difficult. You’re not the first wanderers that have entered the rainforest before, you know…”

“We aren’t?” She knelt beside him.

“Certainly not. Many that have looked like you, as well. Your shamans, can they bend metals? Turn and shape them, like they were made of clay?”

Edda smiled, the pride in her peoples’ heritage swelling up inside her. “We certainly can,” she said.

“Our shamans make these,” he said, pulling out one of the flasks. “This was the kind that I gave to your friend.” He threw it dramatically away into the trees. “Curse it, curse all of it! I shouldn’t have tried, I should have just done what I was told and knew my place. Now I just look like a fool.”

That struck a chord with Edda, so limited in her scope of the world as well. Her whole life she had been viewed by others under a certain lens because of her station. The noblewoman; outwardly seen as a person of distinction and class, but beneath it all she knew there were comments made by the common man said behind closed doors; she was a useless, money-hoarding woman who had not earned a penny of her vast riches. They didn’t say it to her, but she knew it. Sometimes it was just a glare, but that was a language on its own.

“I don’t think you’re a fool,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think you were trying to help someone else. That’s an admirable quality. I wish my own people would try to help others more than we do, rather than…” She trailed off. “I just think you tried to do something right, and it came out wrong. But at least you tried to do something right.”

Majad looked up at her. She could tell from the wrinkles around his eyes that underneath his mask he was smiling. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it. Really. This whole ordeal with your people arriving has had me on edge from the very beginning. I’ve been taking this,” he said, taking out a new flask from within the folds of his robe, “just to get through the day.”

Edda looked uncomfortable. “If one has already died, is it a good idea to continue to drink those things?” To her, the flask looked identical to the last one.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten you might see them that way,” Majad said as he hastily returned the flask to his robes. “They’re so commonplace here, it’s no different than having a cup of water. We all have our reasons for them.” To demonstrate, he tapped a drop onto his finger and slid it under his mask.

“Really? Then how was it that the one that had taken it from our society - or, the Khorsuli, rather - could hardly have any of it before becoming whatever state he’s in.”

Majad waved a hand dismissively. “We’ve been having these since we were children. We know the quantity is very, very important. A few have dabbled with taking more than the regular dose, and it always ends in tragedy. We’ve learned as a people to rely on moderation. Just a touch is enough for us.”

“So you have this all the time, then?”

“Every day. Miniscule doses.”

Edda shifted her weight from one foot to the next, thinking. “And what does that one do exactly? Why do you need it so badly?”

Majad looked down. “It’s a little embarrassing, I might admit.”

“Please,” she urged.

“I’ve never been the most… I’m just prone to mistakes. Small ones, mostly, but in rare times big ones, like in the case of the Khorsuli,” he said with a pained expression, slamming his fist down on his knee, twice, three times. “So I hesitate to try much of anything. Even coming here, I would have never been able to do it. What this is,” he held it out again, “is bottled confidence. It gives me just enough courage to carry on when all seems lost.”

​Edda did her best to remain passive. “And does it actually work? Do you really feel confident after having taken some?”

​“A direct shot of pride,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Of course, it’s of the utmost importance to only take the slightest amount. A single taste is more than enough. This flask would contain far more doses than you’d need for a whole season!”

​“That’s… that’s interesting,” she said, mulling things over in her mind.

​Majad held up a hand. “Oh, no, if that’s what you’re thinking, I couldn’t. I already hurt one, I couldn’t hurt you as well, especially after you’ve been so kind to me. Please, I should not have mentioned it at all.”

​“No, no, I wasn’t asking…”

​“Oh, alright, I’m sorry, it’s just…”

​“Just what, exactly?”

​“I would just fear you’d fall to the same fate, or at least a similar one.”

​Edda’s perpetual smile suddenly turned. “I don’t want you to worry about that. My whole life is filled with people watching over my best interest. I’d like a decision to be made for myself without someone watching over me every step of the way.” She held out her hand. “I’ll gladly take one. I’m nervous enough even trying this, so whatever you have, I’ll gratefully try just the smallest taste.”

​“I would urge you to-”

​“Everyone urges me towards something. But I must make my own way in this world,” Edda said with a sense of pride as if she’d already had a drop from the elixir.

​He nodded slowly.“Hardly a drop, that’s all.” He took out the flask and handed it to her, feigning worry brilliantly. “Please, please be cautious.”

​Meanwhile, Edda’s heart was racing. The flask was filled with a viscous red fluid, unlike anything she’d ever seen. She could almost hear Farmund’s admonishments ring in her head, having to force herself to stop and see if he was indeed really there. This was a key moment for her. She had to follow through.

​Opening it up, she inspected it further, smelling it, swirling it. She felt the same when she was called out to inspect the troops during a military parade. She’d look them up and down, admiring the shininess of the armour and the sharpness of the weapons all while ultimately knowing absolutely nothing of what was quality or not.

​Not knowing what to say, she said the first thing that came to mind. “It certainly looks interesting.”

​“It certainly does,” Majad replied. “It’s quite beautiful, in a way.”

​“Does it burn, or hurt afterwards?” Edda asked, stalling for time.

​“Not in the slightest,” Majad said honestly.

​Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Tapping a droplet onto her finger, she brought it to her mouth. A moment of bravery, to instil yet more. “When will I start to feel its effects?”

​Majad smiled back at her. “Lift up your bow,” he said. Pointing to a knot in a tree not far from where they stood, he gestured that she try to hit it. Immediately, Edda lifted her bow, took aim with a steady arm, and let fly. It went hardly a foot further than it had the first time it had fallen out of her hands.

​“The elixir doesn’t provide any actual skill,” Majad said. “But you took it in your hands and fired it without so much as having a moment of doubt. That is it’s magic. A touch of confidence when you need it most.” He smirked. “I suppose that’s a skill of its own.”

​“Incredible,” she said, mouth slightly parted in shock and joy.

​“Now, please,” Majad urged. “Do not take more than what’s necessary. A drop. That’s all. Any more can be profoundly dangerous.”

​“Of course,” she said. Without a question, she put the stopper in the flask and hid it deep in the folds of her clothing. “You’re the one who seems to know this.”

​Majad nodded. “Thank you for that. Please, be careful with it. I’d hate to see you come to harm. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, Lady Edda.” With that, he was off, disappearing into the dense foliage in a matter of seconds, leaving Edda once again alone in the rainforest, but this time feeling far better about her prospects and her place in the world.

​Majad, meanwhile, was feeling a touch of confidence himself. The taste of the elixir on his lips was enough to see that the entirety of the crusade was not particularly difficult to sway, and that he was indeed every bit as charming and deceitful as he saw himself to be. There would be no immediate need to return to Jathi and Adilash, just to receive orders he knew clearly were coming. The will would still do as the mind and heart chose - he would simply plan to expedite the process.