When Zathos returned, it was without the usual silence Eni had come to expect of the monster. She heard its approach even before she caught a glimpse of its dimly glowing red eyes, a faint but distinct scratching sound coming from its body. She wondered if Zathos had been injured by its encounter with the Visitor; it did appear somewhat shorter than it had before, and although it didn't limp there was a peculiar delicacy to its movements.
"You are awake," Zathos said without preamble once it was within a few feet of Eni, its voice as affectless as ever, "I have brought food and water."
The creature had evidently used one of its wings as a sort of sack, and it neatly unfurled the appendage to reveal a collection of mushrooms, berries, and nuts. Zathos stood utterly still as Eni collected everything up, and then from one of its other arms offered up her canteen. It had a large dent in it that hadn't been there before, but Eni accepted it as gratefully as she did the food; her stomach felt painfully empty. "Thank you, Zathos," she said, but the monster didn't respond.
Instead, it turned to face Tsar. "Do you require meat, All-King?" it asked, and as it spoke its chest suddenly bulged out.
The fine cables that made up its torso unraveled slightly as they pressed outward, and in the slim gaps Eni saw a number of somnolent rodents. Their eyes were bright and fearful as they chittered and tried forcing their way out of the cage Zathos had made for them, but the monster's flesh was as unyielding as the finest steel. "Not hungry," Tsar said, his voice harsh, and Zathos's chest closed back up again.
A moment later the squeaking of the tiny mammals stopped all at once and Eni winced, her own appetite entirely gone. She forced herself to eat anyway, painfully aware of Zathos's unblinking gaze upon them. When at last she could no longer stomach anything else from the meager meal, Eni carefully bundled up what was left and put it in her satchel. The tough sharkskin had picked up a few scratches, but everything inside had survived intact, her journal looking just as it had before. After closing her bag back up, she looked to Zathos and asked, "Do you know any other ways into Invermir?"
The monster didn't hesitate for a moment before answering. "No," it said simply, and Eni frowned.
"What about the Risen Mother?" she asked.
Zathos's head cocked to the side as it considered her. "What about the Risen Mother?" it replied, its strange voice making it almost impossible to tell the creature was repeating her question instead of making a statement.
"What do you know about her?" Eni asked, and at her side she felt Tsar's attention come away from whatever thoughts consumed him and to Zathos.
Zathos's head straightened with an unsettling mechanical precision, all four of its eyes focusing unblinkingly on Eni. "She is ever-watching and all-knowing," Zathos said, "Her eyes and ears are everywhere; there is nothing that occurs on Aerodan without her awareness. But I have not been able to determine the veracity of that statement."
Despite the monster's chilling words, Eni found herself stifling a smile; Zathos's voice had been as unfailingly level as ever, but somehow she almost felt a touch of disappointment that it couldn't check. "When… When she struck you," Eni began slowly, "Did you… see anything?"
"Anything unusual, I mean," she hastily added, not wanting the creature to take her question too literally.
"I felt her presence, Archivist," Zathos said, "The Risen Mother denied me, and no more."
Eni remembered the force that had been behind the strange voice as it dismissively swatted the monster aside, a chill seeming to come into the air. "So you don't know where Invermir is, then," she said.
"Innominate," the monster replied, and Eni sighed.
She traced a finger through the dirt, idly drawing patterns as she thought. Shards of the broken obsidian dagger glittered in the starlight and Eni carefully avoided them, not wanting to slice through her gloves. "Tunnels," Tsar said suddenly.
Eni paused and looked over at him; the wolf's features were suddenly sharp and focused. "If she's watching, that's how," he said, his tone thoughtful, and Eni nodded.
"There have to be more," she said, "Like… Like the strands of a spider's web. They meet somewhere."
She had a brief and unsettling image of the Visitor, still sinisterly copying her appearance, at the center of a vast and intricate net made not of silk but of the same monstrous flesh as Zathos. Her stomach turned, and as Eni shook her head to clear it her finger brushed against a piece of the ruined dagger. She jerked her paw away instantly, not wanting to find out if the Visitor could still control the destroyed weapon, and a flash of the anger she had felt in their last meeting ran through her. The Visitor was arrogantly assured, utterly implacable no matter what happened around her, and Eni wished she had gotten the opportunity to strike.
Perhaps the strange being would have been totally unbothered to be assaulted by a flurry of rocks, but—
An idea began taking form at the back of Eni's mind, one that she could feel the shape of more than she could identify it. She groped for it, trying to grasp it, and all at once her ears shot straight up as she stood. Eni was overcome with energy, barely feeling the wound in her chest as she paced, smoothing back the fur atop her head with one paw. "The rocks!" she cried, "The rocks!"
Tsar's head tilted at a questioning angle and Zathos simply blinked at her, but Eni could barely keep her words straight as they poured out of her mouth. "The dagger," she said, pointing excitedly at the fragments, "It's obsidian. And— And in what we saw…"
She gestured eagerly toward Tsar and kept going. "They were all igneous rocks, too. I felt them," Eni all but babbled, "And the tunnel… The direction it went… Where it was going… I know where Invermir is."
Tsar's eyes widened, his head turning as he stared where Eni was looking. "Where Rongen found me," he said, his voice low and unsteady.
"Exactly!" Eni replied, snapping her fingers, "Invermir must be inside the mountain."
The peak of Gwared Mountain was barely visible at night; they were on the wrong side to see the lights of Vornstrom at its base, and without the city in view it was only a dark spot blotting out some of the stars. As Eni stared in the mountain's direction, her excitement began to ebb, the cold reality of what they needed to do setting in. "It'll take weeks to climb just the base," she said despairingly, "And months to find anything if we have to search every cave."
Her heart sank, but she couldn't see any way around it. The craggy summit was massive, the tallest in all of the Cradle if not the world. Scaling it would be dangerous almost beyond measure, the giant stones that formed it treacherously unstable and cruelly sharp the closer they got to the top. The wind would only get stronger as the air got brutally cold and too thin to breathe, battering them about as they tried to maintain their footing.
They were all silent for a moment, Eni racking her brain for ideas, and then Zathos spoke. "It will not be necessary to search every cave, Archivist," it said, "There is an entrance to Invermir at the peak."
"Thought you didn't know," Tsar said, his face cold and suspicious as he considered the monster.
“'And so it came to pass that the great wolf Raenir swallowed the sun, darkening all of creation. 'Depart!' came the howl of his heavy heart, 'Your milk has maned the lion and horned the stag, but no more. Your soporific bosom numbs your children and traps them in the savory dreams from which they shall now awaken. A world both bitter and trying it shall be, yet yearnful and ours,'” Zathos said, "'And for the sake of the radiant sun within the dogged maw, the Mother did as she was bade, passing the High Gate beyond the world's end. 'You too, my son,' she spoke, and after nevermore.'"
"The Mother's Mantra," Eni said quietly, understanding the connection the monster had made, "But… Do you really believe She's actually the Mother?"
Zathos blinked slowly at her. "Belief is irrelevant," it said.
Eni swallowed her protests; she wasn't sure she could call what the monster had faith, exactly, not with how utterly alien its mind was. But there was a terrible sort of sense to what it claimed, and in a way Zathos was absolutely correct.
Never forget, Eni, that the line between what you believe and what you know may be very fine indeed.
She could practically hear the Archivist's voice in her head, and the pain of his loss was suddenly as sharp and raw as it had been the instant he had disappeared from view. Eni blinked back the tears that welled up in her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat, looking to Tsar. "It's right," she said, her voice not quite steady, "I don't know what the Visitor is, but it all fits. Emperor Wordermund claimed he received a divine message at the peak of Mount Gwared, but…"
Eni puffed out a breath of air. "Most historians assumed that story was apocryphal," she continued, "Even if he really did it, no one else has ever managed to reach the summit and return."
The names of a dozen doomed expeditions swam through her mind, from expert geologists and mountaineers to glory-hungry nobles with more money than sense, and her stomach clenched tight. Tsar stood, his face somber as he looked into her eyes. "We'll reach the top," he said, his words firm and assured as he took her paw in his.
Eni squeezed it gratefully and then turned to Zathos. "Do you think you'll be able to fly there?" she asked; she had read that the winds surrounding the top third of the mountain were too fast-moving for even the hardiest of Avians to deal with, but the monster's wings were radically different from any bird she had ever seen.
"Yes," Zathos said.
"You can help guide us, then," Eni said, "It's going to be a hard climb."
"I can offer a more efficient option," Zathos replied, "If I consume sufficient theurgy, my size and lifting capacity will increase commensurately. I could carry you and the All-King."
"How many Begotten would it take?" Eni asked, a spark of hope burning in her chest.
"Unnecessary," Zathos said bluntly, "I could drain theurgy from you. The odds of fatal complications would be minimal."
Eni's mouth went utterly dry as she stared at the monster, a sense of horror crawling across her skin. Zathos had spared them the sight of what it had done to the rodents in its chest, but she had seen its attack on the enormous monster all too well. The thought of Zathos's body unraveling and stabbing cruel cables through her flesh made her shiver, and she was almost unspeakably glad when Tsar spoke.
"No," the wolf said, taking a step closer to Eni, and his paw drifted closer to the hilt of his whip-sword as he glared down at the monster.
Zathos was utterly unruffled, its body quite still. "I cannot accurately estimate how many Begotten would suffice. It is highly variable," the creature said.
"And… And we'd need to fight more of them," Eni said, trying to keep her voice steady, "You wouldn't be able to… to eat their theurgy if we don't encounter any."
She was about to propose that they set off in a direct line for Gwared Mountain, either climbing it themselves or riding Zathos if they could defeat enough Begotten on the way, when Tsar spoke.
"Vivianne," he said, and Eni had a moment of confusion before she realized what he was suggesting.
"Rongen's airship?" she asked, unable to hide the skepticism in her voice.
It struck her as an enormous gamble; the raccoon's workshop in Tormurghast was days away in the wrong direction, and no matter what he claimed there was no telling whether or not the vessel was ready for use. Even if it was, the airship might prove to be too delicate to safely reach the peak, wasting even more time. But…
If it did work, they'd save weeks of grueling climbing, and despite how confident Zathos had appeared it was very possible that the monster was wrong about its ability to fly around the treacherous mountaintop. Eni became slowly aware that both Tsar and Zathos were silently watching her, waiting for her to say more, and she straightened slightly.
"I think…" she began slowly, "I think we have to try. If nothing else, there ought to be more monsters outside Tormurghast."
Even if Rongen couldn't help them, perhaps Zathos could still be of use. Or perhaps not. An enormous weight had settled in Eni's stomach, and she knew it wasn't going to lift anytime soon. Tsar nodded, his face unreadable, and Eni sucked in a sharp breath as they set off, Gwared Mountain at their side instead of ahead.
Dawn came far too quickly, and the following day ended in a haze of weariness and hunger; with their meager rations exhausted they had been forced to give up precious time to foraging as well as sleeping, but Eni's belly never felt sated and her eyelids always felt heavy. As the sun sunk below the horizon, the mountain seemed painfully distant, the terrain ahead grassy and gently rolling. Zathos was as quiet and uncomplaining a traveling companion throughout, and Tsar had lapsed back into his own internal world, the wolf's gaze never quite focused. Eni had her own thoughts to muse over.
Something very welcome had come into sight; a tidy little village lay ahead of them, picturesque thatched roofs and fieldstone walls just barely visible. "We need food," Eni said, her voice hoarse and her mouth feeling somehow both dry and gummy, "Maybe some good rope, if they have it. We'll save time."
Neither Tsar nor Zathos voiced a word of complaint, but Eni hadn't thought they would. The little town wasn't even out of their way, and although Tsar looked to be holding up to the strain far better than Eni, she was sure he could use a respite. In short order they passed a charming little boulder engraved with the word Altogar, surrounded by beautifully etched sheaves of wheat and grapevines, and then the main gate was in sight.
Altogar itself was surrounded by a low wall about four feet high, made of rough-hewn rocks, and the gateway arch didn't have a door of any sort. Twenty or thirty buildings were cozily settled inside the village boundaries, most of them rather squat. The main plaza was carefully paved with flagstones, surrounding a sundial of mellowly greened copper, and a cheery tavern waited at one end. Eni found herself almost running toward it, practically able to taste a crisp mug of cider, but as she crossed the wall she slowly came to a stop.
The village was silent.
The only sound was the wind, blowing slowly past, but there was no talk or laughter coming from any of the cottages or shops. No mammals filled the lush green spaces, and although at least the tavern ought to have been busily cooking there was no smoke rising from any of the chimneys. A chill crept down Eni's spine, and she glanced at Tsar as they crossed the plaza.
The wolf's face was set in a grim expression, and when he pushed against the tavern's door it opened with no resistance, banging loudly against the interior wall. The space was cool and dark, the light of midday filtered through a few thin windows of wavy glass, and all of the tables and chairs were empty. The patrons looked to have left all at once; some of the stools at the bar running along the back wall were knocked over, and plates of half-eaten food were scattered across the room. A faint but unpleasant scent of decay met Eni's nose, and she saw the meals were all covered with fine films of mold, some of them wriggling with maggots. On the same wall as the bar was an enormous fireplace, but it was cold and dark, filled only with cinders.
"No one here," Tsar said, his face relaxing ever so slightly.
"I do not sense anything," Zathos agreed, its voice mild as ever.
"They… Maybe they ran when they realized those things were coming?" Eni suggested, her voice sounding too loud in the yawning and desolate room.
"We'll gather what we need," Tsar said, glancing about, and he hooked the tip of his tail through a partially-open trapdoor Eni hadn't seen.
The hinges creaked, one of them completely detached from the floorboards, and Tsar descended into the tavern's cellar. Eni swallowed hard, her heart hammering as she headed for the kitchen. Zathos hadn't moved from the entrance, its face blank and impassive as it waited. The kitchen bore all the same signs of having been abandoned in a great hurry; full plates of rotting food had been left waiting to be served, and atop the sturdy stove was a pan full of something so charred that Eni couldn't tell what it was.
The kitchen was as cold as the rest of the tavern, the cooking fires clearly having burned out some time ago, and Eni wondered how long it had been. She doubted more than two or three days could have passed, since the food hadn't finished putrefying yet, but she pushed those thoughts out of mind as she raided the tidy pantry.
It was full of neatly canned jars from the last harvest, the vegetables still fresh and bright through the glass. Eni began carefully packing her satchel, but when she bent down to reach a low jar she suddenly froze. There was a constellation of small brown stains on the floor, little splotches marring the worn wooden planks. Eni stood, still looking down, and saw that there was a trail leading out of the pantry and through the kitchen. She followed it slowly; it led back into the main dining area, which was full of warmth and light as she entered.
Tsar had gotten the fireplace going again; next to it he was dumping ingredients he had scavenged into a large iron pot to prepare a thin soup. The wolf glanced up at Eni's return. "You need to eat," he said quietly, throwing in a few sprigs of herbs that were only slightly wilted, "This'll cook fast."
Eni nodded vaguely, her heart hammering in her throat, and she followed the stains back to their origin. On one of the tables, there were four long stains, arranged in an unmistakable shape, and Eni pushed herself away, her eyes burning. She fumbled through her bag, pulling her journal out to get to her purse underneath, and began hastily pouring coins into one palm with a shaky paw.
She rushed over to the bar, trying to stack the money as neatly as she could. "What are you doing?" Tsar asked, glancing at her with a puzzled expression.
Zathos watched them both, its expression empty, but Eni ignored it and didn't look at Tsar. She kept piling up the money. "I'm paying," she said, hating the tremble that had appeared in her voice, "We aren't going to steal from whoever owns this tavern, right?"
She laughed, the sound far too high-pitched. "They'll… They'll be coming back," she said, "They'll…"
"Eni…" Tsar began, but under his soothing tone she felt what she had denied.
"I know!" she yelled, tears streaming freely from her eyes, "I… I know."
She sniffled, wiping at her face, and although her throat felt hot and thick she couldn't stop. "There's… There's a bloody paw print there," she said, gesturing at the table, "They… ran to the pantry. Thought they could hide."
Her voice was harsh and bitter, her attention turning away from Tsar's soft eyes and back to her pile of coins. The clink of them was loud and sharp, the cold metal discs sliding untidily apart as she tried to count them. They refused to stay together, her stack collapsing under its own weight, but there were woefully few coins. How much was what they had taken worth? Twelve obols? Fifteen?
All the money she had left in the world was nothing; there had to be more. Eni searched her pockets frantically, desperate for anything that could possibly balance the scales, and then her eyes fell on her journal. She tore the cover open, ignoring the complaints the pages made as she roughly pulled the spine away from its binding. As Eni gave the book a ferocious shake, the silver coins she had tucked away at last spilled forth. One of them bounced off the bar, and she cursed as she tried to catch it and missed. She clutched the journal and chased after the coin, sniffling as she snatched it up and added it to the pile.
It still wasn't enough.
Her fingers were so tight around her life's work that it felt as though they would meet in the center, and she set it on the bar, looking at the sad and battered little book that had been her companion for so long. The broken cover flopped open pathetically, entries from when she had dreamed of the wonders of magic the Slayer could teach her and all the good she could do streaming past.
A sudden savage urge she couldn't deny overcame Eni and she threw it at the hatefully merry fireplace as hard as she could, her lips parting in a wordless scream. She stumbled, her legs no longer able to support her weight, and sat heavily on the nearest barstool.
Tsar's tail lashed out, catching the journal before the paper could touch the flames, and he looked from it and back to her. "Eni?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"If you could read it," she muttered, not able to look him in the eye, "If you did… I'm no better than they were. Just a naïve hare who wanted to…"
Eni's head sank shamefully lower. "Make the world to her liking," she mumbled.
Tsar had slowly withdrawn the book away from the fireplace, but he hadn't offered it back to Eni yet. He kept it close, as though afraid Eni would tear it apart given the chance, but as he passed it from his tail to his paws a page came loose. The glue Eni had used to keep it in must have softened from heat and mistreatment; from how yellowed and curled the rice paper was Eni knew exactly what it was. It was a sheet that had faithfully followed her through every iteration of her journal, the one piece of her quest for the Slayer that had predated even the first book.
Tsar caught it delicately, and Eni thought she saw his face soften in a way unlike any she had ever seen before. There were no words on the page, just a drawing Eni had scribbled as a leveret, but it was recognizable enough no matter how crudely it had been scrawled with a young and clumsy paw.
It was her and the Slayer, holding paws and beaming happily.
"I haven't changed," Eni managed at last, "I… I finally thought I understood. That I was learning, and that things would get better. But I haven’t. I've failed."
Tsar was silent for a moment, his pale eyes carefully watching her face as he slowly knelt in front of her. It was odd to look down into his face rather than up at it; he seemed somehow both softer and nobler. "You haven't failed," he said, the words barely more than a whisper as he gently placed the drawing back into Eni's journal and then clasped her paws with his around it, "You've… come a long way. I…"
He hesitated, clearly groping for words, his fingers fidgeting across hers and the book. "I'm not… good at this," he admitted, looking down, "I don't…"
The tip of his tail swung back and forth, his ears pressing back against his head. "But…" he began slowly, "What you said…"
His eyes flickered over to where Zathos was watching patiently, and then back to Eni. "It's true for me, too," he said, the words barely audible.
"Don't throw it away. Remember. Like you promised," he added, his expression turning inward, and Eni nodded as she clutched the journal to her chest.
She intertwined her fingers with his and tried to give the Elrim vow, but her throat had closed up too tightly for words to pass. Tsar gave her paw a squeeze, and from how his eyes met hers before she let go Eni knew he understood.
Tsar went back to his soup, putting the pot in the fire and heating it to a boil before ladling out two bowls. It shouldn't have tasted particularly good; the wolf was a terrible cook and he had added the ingredients rather haphazardly. But it still had a warmth that seemed to slowly fill Eni with each and every spoonful before her portion was at last completely gone.
Neither one of them spoke as they ate, and she could almost pretend that they weren't being scrutinized by a monster. Tsar didn't say anything when they were both finished; he simply got to his feet. Eni followed, carefully tucking her journal back into her satchel before they left the tavern.
She stopped only long enough to tidy up her pile of coins on the bar; she knew there would be no one to collect payment but it didn’t matter. It felt like an example, even if it was only to herself. Eni left them behind without a second glance, her bag heavy with food, but she didn't feel burdened by it as they departed Altogar. Tormurghast was still at least a day's travel away, but as the light faded and night came Eni could make out the smudge of lights that marked the city.
It was enough.
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