PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There was a sound behind them, a footstep, and Jalindal spun around, Richard didn't even notice. There was a haggard old crone standing there, clothed in rags, the darkness surrounding her, almost  wrapped around her, her white hair the only part of her that was shadowed. She had wrinkles, layers and layers of wrinkles, evidently she was old, very old. She smelt strange... musky. The smell that hung around her seemed to be of incense and dust.

“Ho... How did y' get here?” Jalindal asked, astonished. The lady cackled, revealing brown, rotting teeth, and a wave of stench, bad breath, wafted over Jalindal. He almost gagged, but managed not to.

“I'm here on the bequest of my Lord... to instruct you on your destiny...” She cackled again, “And to take care of... certain things.” She smiled, murmuring something to herself, before pointing at Finn's body. It glowed for a moment, and Richard clung to it,

“What are you doing?” He yelled, as the crone murmured something else, and Finn glowed again. The crone rolled her eyes, “I'm making sure she doesn't rot, so when you come back with your quest completed the body will be some use.” She sounded exasperated, sparing neither of their feelings. She wasn't one for subtly evidently. Richard looked up at Jalindal, confused, the tears still wet on his cheeks. The crone turned away

“Come”, she said, her tone imperious. Jalindal nodded, following without question. Richard hesitated a moment, before scooping Finn up into his arms, and carrying her, her head lolling back, her entire body limp.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



They walked for what seemed an eternity, especially for Richard. He never imagined that he might have to carry Finn's body. Never crossed his mind. He kept looking down at the face of the woman he loved, and feeling the empty space inside him. It was like pouring salt into an open wound, again and again and again. She was dead, and she didn't love him. She'd died with another name on her lips, in her heart. He couldn't bear it. She'd spent her last night in the arms of another man. His grip tightened on her, imperceptibly, as he glared at the back of Jalindal's head. He'd stolen her from him. He walked like that for a while, before looking down at Finn's face again. There was a faint smile on her lips. She'd died happy... he thought. The idea was torturous. She was happy with another man. Not him. He looked down at her for a while. Eventually he sighed, she'd chosen. She'd been happy. He couldn't, shouldn't, dispute that, or be angry with the man who'd given that happiness to her. He felt tears course down his face, although he didn't know he was crying.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Eventually the old hag stopped, Jalindal bumped into her, not realising she'd stopped, and she threw him an impatient look. Over the last hour or so, they had been walking into caves that were looking more, and more man-made. Jalindal had no idea about how they'd gotten out of the cave they'd been in originally. He'd just followed the old crone... and... they were out, going along another cave, and then another, until Jalindal had no idea of where they were, where they were going, or how to get back to the original cave. Occasionally he'd tried to talk to the old crone, but she'd either ignored what he was trying to ask, or told him to be quiet. The caves had gradually become more regular, and the floor more even, and Jalindal could swear that the last two or so had remains of old buildings. The crone had stopped then before what looked like an old door. Jalindal looked around, at the cave. It was plainly man-made – there were columns on either side of the path, holding up the roof, with ivy, carved out of the stone, creeping up the columns. It was a magnificent hall, or, it would have been. Once. The crone turned to them, furious eyes boring into them.

“This is a sacred place.” She hissed, warning them, before she turned, and opened the door, leaving Jalindal and Richard stunned and spellbound, looking in at the sight before them. She stood back with a clucking of her tongue, pleased with their reactions. The hall that stood before them was long, about the length of the dining hall in Lord Bariget's castle, made to sit a population of 500. This wasn't an entrance hall, this was a temple, a chapel, a church... whatever you would call it, it was a place of worship. There were magnificent carvings on the walls, statues of the God every few metres, and the whole place was a riot of colour, paintings on the walls, gold leaf on the roof, far above their heads, and a miniature bell hanging, suspended, from the roof, the sister of the bell in the cave they'd been so unlucky as to fall into.



After they'd gawked for a while the crone gave an exasperated sigh,

“Come on then.” She said impatiently, and bustled them inside, clucking her tongue again, an almost manic gleam in her eyes. There was a scent of incense and the musky smell of dust inside the temple, the same scent as she carried with her. At the far end of the temple, which the crone was hustling them to, there was an alter, strangely bare of anything, just an alter cloth, and a group of candles at each end. Where you would expect there to be a relic or symbol of sorts, there was nothing. As they approached the alter, the smoke that was rising off the candles started to gather smoke, hanging suspended into the air. Neither Jalindal, nor Richard noticed, until it moved, darted forward, and snatched Finn's body from Richard's arms, entwining her in smoke, moving her into the air, as Richard futilely reached after her.

“Leave it.” The crone snapped, “The Lord has need for it now...” She said, with a reverent tone, as the smoke kept Finn up in the air, her arms straight from her sides, as if crucified. Then, her mouth opened, her eyes flickered, and opened, although only the whites of her eyes were showing.

“This is an adequate mouthpiece...” A deep voice boomed out of her mouth, unbelievably loud and masculine. Jalindal started, and Richard turned white, but wisely kept silent.

“What is it you want of us?” Jalindal asked, his tone short, knowing that if they had any chance of getting Finn back, they had to be in the God's good books... but he couldn't help it.

“If you wish to ever have your love alive... you will do this thing for me.” Richard stepped forward now.

“Name it. I will do it.” His voice was rough, husky, and fervent. His eyes were narrowed, cold, and full of determination. The voice spoke again,

“I have been thieved...” The crone looked slightly guilty, “The Sword of Alkamar was not guarded as it should be, and it was taken.” There was a pause, at which Finn's mouth smiled slightly in a cynical way, entirely unlike the happy smile she normally wore. “You two will get it back for me.” There was a stunned silence, before Richard put a hand on Jalindal's shoulder, restraining him, almost able to feel the indignation rising in his friend.

“We will do as you ask.”



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Almost a full day later, Jalindal and Richard were on their way. They had emerged from the series of caves in an area that neither of them had ever been before. Jalindal looked around as they emerged, hands on hips, and swore. Richard looked up.

“What is it?” he asked, curious. Jalindal sighed, and pointed to a couple of colomns of smoke rising in the distance, about three days walk away.

“That's the village the hag was talking about. That we should get supplies and horses from.” Richard laughed, and grabbed Jalindal's arm, gently steering him around. He pointed in the opposite direction to which Jalindal had been looking, where there was a column of smoke rising, only two or three hours walk away.

“Actually, I think that's it.”



They were both a lot more cheerful now, Richard especially. Jalindal was still blaming himself,  although the feeling that he and Richard could get her back was a cheering thought. He was mentally kicking himself, and his determination to do this was strong. They would do it. They had to. Although his companion hadn't said anything, Jalindal knew that Richard blamed him to. He was trying hard not to show it, knowing that the journey they were setting out on now was a long one. He sighed, as he tried to remember exactly what the crone had said...



“It's in a city, we know that much. It's... possibly in the West.” She said, with a slight frown. Jalindal and Richard waited for more detail, “You have to follow a river from here, a long one...”

“The Z'haanin T'puuli?” Richard interrupted, “Is that the river?”

“Could be”, came the answer, with a slightly warning scowl. The meaning clear; Don't interrupt. “Then pass through a forest... where the River flows out into the sea. I think it's still there, although there was some foresting going on in that area from when I scried it out.”

Jalindal thought for a moment, “There's a wood near the Z'haanin T'puuli Delta...” He said, his voice thoughtful.

“I dare say that's it...” Richard broke in, with a slight smile. The crone glared at both of them, refusing to say anything more, until the silence drew out... uncomfortable... Both of the men standing over a foot taller then her lowered their eyes to the ground.

“Sorry.” They murmured in unison, before Jalindal made a slight gesture,

“Please, continue.” The old woman waited a moment longer, before continuing as if she'd never been interrupted.

“Once you've gone through the forest, there's a series of cave you'll have to go through, rather like these ones....” She said, thinking. “I don't know where they are, or what they're called, so... well... you'll have to look around.” Jalindal looked at her, astonished, for a moment, before repeating the gesture of earlier, of apology, and she went on. After the caves, there's a mountain range, that is definitely to the north of the caves... once again, I don't know what they're called. I learnt even this amount of information through scrying... And then, there's a town within sight of the mountain, and there's a man, a rich man, who can help.” She shrugged faintly, while Jalindal and Richard thought about what she'd told them.

“So,” Richard said, after a moment, “You want us to follow a river that you don't know the name of, through a forest that you're not sure exists, then to some caves which could have caved in, and then over a mountain range, which is probably to the North. And then we have to find one person in a City.” He looked over at Jalindal. “Sounds simple.” He said, with a dismissive shrug.



Jalindal smiled slightly with the memory of the look on the crone's face, before swearing beneath his laboured breath as he stumbled slightly, the stones of the rough path turning beneath his feet. He reached out, and caught hold of Richard. The smoke in the distance had been slowly drawing nearer as they walked, and now was perhaps half an hour away. They'd been walking through fields of golden wheat for the last hour or so, a pleasant change from the dank forests that the caves exit had emerged into.



Richard looked over him after another few minutes of walking,

“How do you feel?” Jalindal turned his head, frowning slightly,

“Ok, I guess.” He shrugged, “Guilty.” Richard sighed slightly,

“I meant your head.”

“Oh.” Jalindal murmured, putting a hand up to the massive lump on the back of his head. “It hurts a little, but nothing to worry about.”

“Oh.” Richard nodded. “That's good.” From then, they walked in silence, both of them lost deep in thought, guilty to the core.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



They moved through the first dusty streets of the village, looking around them curiously. The houses they passed looked as if they had seen better times. Some had badly patched roofs, and there were weeds growing between the cobblestones under their feet. The villagers themselves looked poor. The only villagers they saw were old men, women and children, the men obviously out in the fields. But they all looked terrible, threadbare clothes, dust stained faces, looking mutely at the strangers. The children didn't play, but worked at small chores; filling buckets from the well, drying fish, skinning rabbits. The women were sitting around  on doorsteps, huddled against the cold, knitting and weaving, fingers numb from cold. Richard looked over at Jalindal as they passed one old woman, shaking in the cold, arms around herself. His eyes were shadowed as he looked around, obviously shaken by the poverty of the people he saw. Poverty was not something he'd been overly exposed to, and certainly not people that were so obviously suffering.

'This is awful.” He murmured to Jalindal from the corner of his lips, trying not to look as though he was talking. Jalindal didn't answer, his own expression coldly distant. He couldn't afford to become attached to this place. He looked around, before gesturing towards what looked like an inn. It had a few horses hitched outside, and people that were sitting idle around the doorstep, as well as exuding a stench of ale. Chances were that it would have some spare beds.

Richard nodded as he saw what Jalindal was gesturing to, heading that way. He got to the door before Jalindal did, going inside, staggering back a step as the almost solid wall of stench hit his delicate nose. Jalindal seemed unaffected. He paused for a moment, before following Richard towards the bar, still stern, distant.

“Two beds. For the night. And we need food, horses, general supplies.” Richard's tone was brisk and cold, treating the innkeeper as if he were inferior, although he had no right to. The innkeeper merely nodded, and scurried off to do his bidding. Richard looked over at Jalindal quickly, suddenly alarmed.

“Hang on... We don't have any money!” He gasped, the though had just occurred to him, but Jalindal had thought about it hours ago. Jalindal shrugged.

“We don't need money.”

“How do you make that out?” Richard's words were accompanied by a quirk of the eyebrow, and a suspicious twitch of his lips. Jalindal said nothing, merely smirking as he reached out, and tugged on the necklace around Richard's neck. It snapped, falling into his hand at an angry cry from Richard.

“Because we have all the money here that we need.” Richard understandably looked a little peeved at this, but wisely chose to say nothing. The innkeeper came back a moment later.

“Your rooms are ready. I... prefer my gold in advance, if you don't mind.” He coughed delicately, and held out an expectant hand. Richard snatched the necklace from Jalindal, and snapped a bit of the gold chain off, shoving it distastefully into the innkeeper's hand.

“Here.” He said, his tone slightly sullen. The innkeeper pretended not to notice, and merely stuffed the valuable gold into his pocket.

“This way.” With that, he turned around, and led the way, grabbing a torch off the wall as he climbed the stairs. The firelight flickered against the dull stone walls, as they climbed the stairs, the effect of the granite a little like a dungeon. They got up to the landing, up the flight of stairs, and the corridor immediately broadened, the air somewhat more... cheery. The floors were covered with reed mats, the kind that were replaced every year, just throwing over the garbage that had accumulated the previous year. It was best not to think what was beneath your feet, Richard thought, with a faint shudder. The innkeeper walked down the long line of doors, stopping at one almost at the furthest end from the door. He opened it, stepping aside to allow them to see into their 'luxurious'  quarters. Richard looked in, observing the single straw pallet and the rough wooden floors with a grimace. A swift look from Jalindal told him what his options were. He didn't have any. Jalindal promptly took over, smiling expansively at the Innkeeper, he spoke with confident, flowery tones,

“Thank you, these rooms will be perfect.” He beamed, as the Innkeeper nodded gruffly,

“Good night.” With that, he turned around, and walked down the stairs, taking the torch with him. In the dim light that was left from the half lit torches dotting the walls Jalindal fumbled around for the lantern he'd seen. He found it, lightly it with a flick of his flint, handily in a pouch on his belt, and the room was immediately changed. It seemed more homely, cheerful, friendly, a welcome change. Still rather small... Richard looked around, turning slowly, before looking over at Jalindal, his face plainly put out. “This is the best we could get?” He tried hard not to sound like he was whining, but failed, the spoilt noble child coming out in him. Jalindal fixed him with a faint look of disgust, a faint disappointment that he wasn't happy with the accomodation. Abruptly he turned away.

“No, but we have to budget.” Richard looked at him, confusion faintly clear in his features.

“Wont the necklace and jewellery cover anything we need?” Jalindal looked at him for a moment, before laughing.

“Not by a long way. We need to work or... something... along the way. Do odd jobs for gold.” Richard wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought. Work. Jalindal sighed, turning away, he took off his shirt. “You're fine with sharing a pallet?” Richard grimaced, but, at Jalindal's rather pointed look, nodded.

“Fine.”