The Belromanticum

Chapter 46

Mira nearly died countless times on the way out from the dark. Her wounds had festered and she had seemingly lost the will to survive. Ulrika used every trick of healing craft and divine favor she had learned over her long career and it was nearly not enough. Mira hovered at the edge of death, her bright blue eyes as distant as the clear sky.

Mallathar's body was wrapped tightly in a cloak. Ulrika spared what blessings she could to stave off corruption. It was strange to see a man who had been so full of life reduced to a mere parcel.

I bore both Mira and Mallathar's remains on a cushion of air and could only hope that we would be swift enough to help. Our journey across the Plains of Duhr-Mhorzu was the worst of it, but once we reached the dwarven settlement on the other side we were able to enlist some sympathetic help.

We stayed there for a week as Ulrika bound Mira's wounds and purged the corruption from them. We replenished our supplies, purchased clothes for Mira, and a wagon drawn by a pair of aurochs. The beasts were smaller and denser than the kind I was used to in the countryside of Rhandonia, for they were bred by the small and dense dwarves to haul goods to the surface.

The wagon carried us as well, and when we emerged into the Esmian sunlight it was blinding. I had lost track of the seasons while we were underground, and it appeared to be late in the winter. The chill in the air had teeth, but those teeth were blunt compared to some of the deep places.

Maireili withered as soon as the sky yawned overhead, putting the hood of her Widow's Cloak up and hiding in the wagon with Mira and Mallathar. I thought that the sight of a ghoul might disturb Mira, but the rogue was completely insensate. She huddled limply in the corner and submitted to Ulrika's care, but did not speak or react in any other way.

I checked my map, thanking the Order of Owls for that. "We are a few days away from the nearest set of standing stones," I said. "Are we taking Mira home to Freeport?"

"Mira is not from Freeport," Ulrika said. "She's from Saumont. In Mairault."

"I know it, though apparently I did not know her well. There are stones on Mairault, and we could take a ship over."

"No. I cannot explain it, but I think a city would be too much for her. She needs to recover someplace peaceful." Ulrika snapped her fingers in realization. "Brennan's farm."

"The turnip farm?"

"We're going to a turnip farm?" Threch asked.

"A stop for now, lad," Framzet said.

Brennan's farm was in southeastern Rhandonia, as far from my childhood home as it was possible to be and still be in Rhandonia's vaguely-defined borders. Brennan had settled in a tiny vassal kingdom called Warestal, though I would not have been surprised if Rhandonia's king was entirely unaware that it existed. Warestal consisted of scattered farms, a couple villages, and a single castle so small and rural that sheep often wandered through the throne room. It was the kind of place many adventurers claim to want to retire in, yet rarely ever do.

Brennan was on the edge of the kingdom, near a flyspeck of a hamlet called Cloppenwig. The closest standing stones weren't very close at all, and after we exited them we spent another week and a half navigating down tiny, winding roads barely worth the name. The weather was warming, and the rolling hills were only beginning to sprout a spring coat of verdant grass.

We camped under the stars. Maireili only truly calmed at night. She told me she could imagine the night sky was the comforting ceiling of a cave.

"And the stars?" I asked.

"Many things glow in the deep," she said. "I do not like the way your stars do not move."

"That one does," I said, pointing to one soaring across the sky.

We slept in each other's arms, but thanks to the lack of privacy that was all we did. I longed for another taste of her, but that would have to wait. In the meantime, I rejoiced in our closeness and ruminated on the fantastic luck that would bring her to me.

Every time we stopped for the night, Framzet poured over a map he had found in Thabban's hoard. He had initially taken it for a puzzle cube of some kind, but Maireili had explained how the object functioned. A map of the surface could be represented in two dimensions, but a map of the underground required three. Since the ghouls moved to the surface, they have lost this art. I have perhaps the finest collection of these old maps in Thür.

Framzet turned the box over in his hands, moving the fine pieces that tracked all the various tunnels and chambers. Threch often joined him, and the two often lost themselves in deep conversation as they traced route after route through the deep.

One sunny day, the road crested a short hill, and stretching out in the dell below was a farm. A few copses of trees perched atop the hills, and a short distance away a stream glittered in a sapphire line. I have never been one for a pastoral existence, but at that moment, I thought perhaps a farm was in my future.

We came down the hill. Off to our right, the turnip field climbed over the gentle slopes. A man and two children, a boy and a girl, were working in the fields. The man led a plow pulled by a strong auroch as the children followed with seeds. It was a moment before I could recognize Brennan through the veil of years. His hair and beard were salt and pepper, with far more of the former. He was still a powerful man, with broad shoulders and thick arms. The children watched us curiously.

Ulrika raised her hand. "Brennan!" she called.

"Ulrika?" he called back. He approached and the two of them embraced. His eyes went to each of us in turn. "I'm beginning to think this isn't a social call."

"No, I'm sorry. I can explain everything."

"Of course, come with me."

"Papa, who are these people?" asked the boy.

"This is Ulrika, an old friend of mine."

Ulrika hunkered down. "Your papa is one of the bravest people I've ever known."

The little girl giggled. "He's afraid of antlions."

"Who wouldn't be," Brennan huffed. "With those awful mouths." He held his hands up like pincers and lunged for the kids, who ran off squealing happily.

"They're fine children."

"You've only just met them," Brennan said with good humor. "Aspar and Heva, named for Elianor's parents. Come inside, you can see her again and you can tell me what's put the clouds in your eyes."

Brennan escorted us down to his farm, secured the aurochs in the barn, and brought us into the farmhouse where we met his wife, a handsome woman, who must have been gorgeous in her youth. Her hair was a lovely honey blonde, piled high on her head. Her features were round and pleasant, and she had the warmest pair of brown eyes. She greeted us like old friends.

"Ulrika, you haven't aged a day!" said Elianor.

"Tell that to my bones. Everything aches. Let me introduce my companions. This is Framzet, Belromanazar, Threch, and Maireili."

The ghoul put the hood back, and Elianor jumped, casting a look to Brennan.

"Welcome, Maireili," he said warmly.

"I knew she was there, but I did...I don't understand," murmured Elianor.

"Her cloak is enchanted," I explained. "She may be seen, but when the hood is up, it is impossible to find her unusual in any way."

"You look familiar, friend," Brennan said.

"We knew each other briefly."

He snapped his fingers. "The barrow! By all the gods, you can't be that apprentice!"

"I am."

"Look at you!" he thundered, clasping my hand. "I thought these were ill tidings, and Ulrika has brought me a friend."

"They are ill tidings I'm afraid," Ulrika said. "Mira went on a quest, hunting a sorcerer in the deep. She vanished. We went after her, in hopes of extracting vengeance."

"We," Brennan said, indicating us.

"And Mallathar."

"I see," Brennan said. "Was he the body wrapped in cloth I saw in the wagon?"

Ulrika nodded. "He wanted to be buried in the sun."

"I can manage that. There's a hill he would have loved. Looks out to the mountains. He would have said they reminded him of..." Brennan coughed, glanced at his wife, and managed, "better times."

"There is more. We found Mira, but she was held in their dungeons and likely tortured. Even if they never laid a hand on her, the conditions would have driven even the strongest to madness. I wanted a place where she could begin to recover."

"And you shall have it," Brennan said. Elianor nodded without hesitation.

"We will work," Threch said.

"Of course you will." He looked the half-orc over, then to Ulrika said, "Looks like you've gotten yourself a better warrior."

"I don't know about that, but Threch can certainly handle himself."

"They call him Threch the Bold in Castellandria," I said.

"Threch the Bold!" Brennan took Threch's hand. "I was Brennan the Blade."

"It's an honor."

"It most certainly is not." Brennan clapped his hands. "We do not have much space, but we will make do. Today, you will rest. Tomorrow, we put Mallathar to rest. Beyond that, we will have to see."

***

***

Framzet and Threch stayed in the house's front room by the hearth. Ulrika and Mira found a place to stay in the storeroom. Maireili, Quiyahui, and I made ourselves at home in the barn's hayloft. My ghoulish bride might have preferred the root cellar, but I thought this place might help her better become accustomed to life on the surface. That first night, preparing our bedrolls with the close smells of hay and animals all around, I thought of my barn home in Pelesamatu all the way across the world. I was at peace there too. Brennan farmed turnips and not pepper trees, but I understood why he would want such a life.

I stripped out of my robes and boots and settled upon my back, head pillowed on my arms. I knew what Maireili had on her mind as she stripped out of her costume, revealing her moonlight pale flesh. She could sleep quite comfortably in that garment, but she did not have sleep on her mind. Fortunately, I didn't either.

She settled down next to me, sitting demurely on a hip. Her autumnal scent wafted from her, whetting my appetite for what would come. Quiyahui lay coiled not far from us, her lightning blue eyes unreadable.

"What is Quiyahui doing?" she asked.

"I don't know. It's not a full moon."

"I don't understand what that is."

I stood, going to the window in the barn. I wrapped an affectionate arm about Mairelli's cool waist and gestured to the moon, explaining its phases. "Quiyahui can take human form when it's full. It's almost full, but not quite."

"Is she beautiful?"

"She is. She..."

I fell silent as I watched the feathered serpent slither into a shaft of moonlight. Then, her form changed. This was not the sight of bones liquifying and flesh reshaping as was the way of the skinchangers. Quiyahui was a creature as much of magic as flesh. Her aspect as a feathered serpent faded like a cloak, and then she was a young woman.

Her features were Uazican, with wide, slanted eyes, a subtle nose, and high cheekbones on an oval face. Her lips were thin and her mouth appeared to be small, but I knew she could open it to an astonishing degree. She still held traces of her inhuman nature: her skin was icy-blue white, and her hair, both on her head and between her legs, were downy feathers, the same iridescent white of her serpent's coat.

"She is beautiful," Maireili breathed.

Quiyahui scarcely paid attention to me. The first time she took human form around one of my brides, she was the one the coatl wanted far more than me. I believe my love for them stretched across the bonds that made us two halves of the same being. She pulled Maireili to her, and Quiyahui, even in the shape of a little nymph, is far stronger than she appears.

She had to stand on her toes to kiss the taller ghoul, and soon had her on the bedrolls with her face pressed between Maireili's slender thighs. The ghoul's mouth opened in a soundless scream, and then, almost too quietly to hear, whispered "It's so deep!"

Quiyahui's mouth was latched over Maireili's pouting mound, and I knew from the cries of my brides that the coatl's tongue was deep inside her.

I kissed Maireili, and she responded sluggishly, as though waking from a lovely dream. "Enjoy it," I murmured.

Maireili's back arched, her fingers buried in the coatl's feathery mane. I moved around behind my familiar, taking her slender haunches in my hands. Quiyahui's flesh was cool, like the ghoul's own. I teased her feathered sex briefly, but she reached back, guiding me into her. She had been too long without a proper fucking.

In the aftermath of our loveplay, the three of us lay entwined on the bedrolls, the scents of the barn now joined with our own. I stroked the feathers on Quiyahui's head while she caressed Maireili's arm.

"Tell me of this woman. Mira," Maireili said in the stillness.

"She was my first. She taught me the arts of love."

"Do you love her still?" I thought I detected worry in the ghoul's voice.

"I never loved her the way I love either of you. She is important to me. I would do anything for her except share my life the way I do with you."

Maireili nodded. "I understand why you need to help her."

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"Perhaps. The Rising Shadow treats with creatures that are vast and terrible. They are to us what we are to flies. I have seen others, when confronted with such a creature, break rather than understand. Or perhaps she is in this state because of their cruelties over time. There is no evil the Rising Shadow would shy from."

"What do they want?"

"They wish to reshape the world in their image. We struck a blow by slaying Thabban and that lesser god of his, but there are far worse things looking for a way to the surface."

***

***

I conjured a bird and sent a message home to my brides on wings that crackled with lightning. I told them the reason for our delay and of the ghoul who would soon be joining us in Azureview. Parts of her reminded me of parts of each of the remarkable women who shared my life. She was shy like Sarakiel, but as fierce as Tanyth and as loyal as Lysethe.

Their answer returned in a week via a bird with wings of sunlight. "We miss you my lord," said the voice of Lysethe. "We understand why you must stay, but we long for your return." I knew thatwemeant not only them, but Arkohnus, Faustan, Malycent, and Belazei. I had a family now. I missed them as much as they missed me.

Before I could return Mira would have to be put together, if such a thing was even possible. I suspected that even if we returned her to a recognizable shape, she would never be free of the scars she had suffered. Ulrika took the lead, as her healing skills and her place as one of Mira's closest companions made her the logical choice.

The rest of us made ourselves as useful around the farm as we could. Threch and I assisted in the fields, while Framzet helped in the kitchen. I learned a little of the art of farming turnips, though I would never call myself close to an expert. I was most useful in the periodic rains I brought to the farm, and Brennan remarked that he needed a wizard to work the full year.

Elianor was initially wary of Quiyahui and Threch and frightened of Maireili, but Brennan calmed her. Before long, she had taken to the ghoul, who had chosen to help around the kitchen because it kept her indoors away from the sun. I suspect that it was Maireili's obvious fear of something as harmless as the open sky that made her seem less a figure of menace to Elianor. Soon she and the kids took it upon themselves to turn her fear into mere wariness. They met with mixed success, but Maireili preferred to be a project than a nightmare.

Threch, I believe, missed his little siblings. Whatever trouble there was between us did not exist when it came to Arkohnus, Faustan, and Malycent. He spent much of his time with Brennan's kids, playing with them whenever they weren't working. Threch would one day make an excellent father, better certainly than I ever was.

Ulrika spent her time with Mira. For the first week, I saw almost nothing of them. Early in the second week, I stood in the threshold of the house, watching the rain I'd summoned as it clattered down. I felt the storm humming in my tissues, a peaceful buzz, so unlike the anger I so often brought. Today I used my power for life. Diotenah hissed in my mind, but I ignored her. It felt good to call the storm for nothing more important than the growing of turnips.

"Bel?" Ulrika came up next to me. "Can you come and see Mira?"

"Of course. Is she talking?"

"No, but I wanted to have more familiar faces around her."

I looked out to where Quiyahui danced in the falling rain. "Are you certain I'll be helpful?"

"I'm certain you can't hurt."

"Good enough."

I followed Ulrika to the storeroom at the end of the house. Since winter had only just passed, all that was stored there were a few burlap bags filled with the dregs of the turnip harvest. Brennan had provided a simple straw-stuffed mattress, and Ulrika's bedroll sat next to that. Mira was on her side, back to the door, curled up in the middle of this.

"She is finally eating without difficulty," Ulrika said, "but that is the limit of her recovery. She won't talk, except in her sleep, and those are cries of terror."

"Has she not recognized Brennan?"

"No. I believe she recognizes me, but it is hard to tell."

"She knew Brennan better than she knew me."

"In some ways. She was intimate with you in a way she never was with him. Mallathar would have..." Ulrika trailed off. We had laid him to rest on the first day, on a sun-soaked hill on the edge of Brennan's land. Ulrika broke into a humorless smile. "It is worth a try."

"What do I do?"

"Sit down next to her. Talk to her."

"That's all?"

"That's all. I want her to hear a friendly voice."

I sat on the mattress next to her. I expected her to shy away, but she didn't. In a way, her motionlessness was more disturbing. "Mira. I don't know if you remember me. I am Belromanazar. We knew each other briefly over twenty years ago." I glanced at Ulrika. She gave me an encouraging nod. "You were...youareimportant to me. Let me tell you a story."

I tried to think of something to tell her, and I realized that I had the perfect thing. "Many years ago, I was an apprentice to a cranky old wizard in a small and unimportant part of Rhandonia. I went into town for supplies, and like I always did on those errands, I wanted to see the baker's daughter. I found her at the inn, and there I met a party of adventurers."

I slipped into the story that you know. I held off on some of the more intimate details, but it was as you know it. I finished talking about the heart Mira had carved into the bottom of my table, and how for a long time it was the only secret we had. It had made me feel powerful. Alive. In charge of my destiny in a way nothing else had. That heart had been an incomparable gift, maybe even an equal to the love we'd shared for the space of a single night.

I finished the story and looked to Ulrika. "That's enough for now," she said. I went to the door, and Ulrika stopped me, "I didn't know that, about the heart."

"You are the third person to know of it."

***

***

I visited Mira daily and told her stories of my life. Many of those tales are in these volumes, but just as many are in the legitimate histories. I think that organizing my memories in this way helped me at least as much as it helped Mira, though I would not begin these volumes until countless years after Mira's death.

For at least a week, she was as she was that first time, curled on the mattress, never acknowledging me. Then, she began to stir a little here and there. Shifts in her breathing, minute movements of her body, all signs that she listened rather than passively hearing.