Part 32
Frozen Memories
As the deep purple hues sunk slowly into the darkening night, silence filled the encampment as each member attended to their individual duties. Soon, their work was done and the camp set when they began to settle down for the night.
“Oh, um, Mister Leaf, sir,” the girl said.
“Hm, just call me Leaf, or Le’ for short,” Leaf said smiling.
“Leaf, I was wondering, if every Marshal had to have a Pixie there must be a lot of them?”
“Yes there are!” Leaf said. “There are so many Pixies of all different Kinds of the Pixie Race.”
“Kind? Race?” the girl asked, confused.
“As you may have noticed, different Shadow Warriors take different forms,” the Trapper said, shaking his head. “Every type is different. Pixies are one of the most diverse and extensive. Fear Grota is of a small Race but they all share the same attributes and there are other types of Kazans which no two are alike. Your own Kazan may be like that; I have never seen nor heard of a Kazan like him. He may be one of the last of his kind. He may have always been alone.”
The girl shifted nervously, staring into the darkness of the night, as Uncle Ben silently sipped cold tea and the Trapper and the Marshal exchanged glances.
“Well that was dreary,” Leaf said, breaking the mood. “We could always ask him.”
The girl shyly glanced at Sworder, but he shook his head. “I have no memories,” he said.
“That’s unfortunate,” Leaf said. “You must have recently awoken.”
“What do you mean?” the girl asked.
“What! You do not know? The longer a Shadow Warrior is awake the more he remembers.”
“You mean,” the girl began, hiding her face with her hands as it slowly became flush. “He will remember his past?”
“She’s worried,” Ranin said.
“But why?” Namic asked.
“His past is an unknown to her,” Ranin noted. “She does not know how it might change him.”
“It would not affect him or his personality directly,” Namic said. “Kazans are a culmination of all their experiences even if they do not remember them.”
“But I doubt she knows that,” Ranin said.
“Did I say something wrong?” Leaf asked, looking at the silent group.
“No,” Uncle Ben said. “I think not.”
“Well, another adventure is over,” Ranin said as they watched the group bed down under the willow.
“And the pass still awaits them,” Namic said.
“Will the mountains let them pass?”
“Weather is not something I can predict.”
The Willow breathed a sigh of relief as the marsh slipped quietly into the peaceful morrow. Dawn followed quickly and the party awoke to the rising sun.
“I’m sorry I can’t accompany you but I need to get back home as soon as possible,” the Marshal said.
“Please say hello to everyone when you arrive,” the girl requested.
“I’m sure they’d be glad to hear,” the Marshal said.
“Hey, you’re going to Belfor?” Leaf queried the girl, while peering over the Marshal’s shoulder.
“We are.”
“Then tell that Marshal’s Pixie I said ‘hello’,” Leaf said.
“Then if that’s everything,” the Trapper said, “let’s leave.”
“Yes, sir,” the girl said, chasing after him.
The routes leading out of the marsh were wide and easy to follow. They led the group straight, without deviation or issue, back to the forest where the path continued towards the mountain.
“Seems we have been favored,” Uncle Ben said.
“What’s that?” the Trapper said.
“I was just thinking how nice it was to have the Guardian of the land helping us rather than hindering us.”
The Trapper simply grunted as he pushed forward, wasting no time in order to make up for time lost. As the noon sun rose high into the sky, it seemed to compliment the giant mammoths who stood erect against its light.
“Hooftail pass,” the Trapper said, pointing off into the distance. “We’ll arrive there in less than two hours.”
“How long do you think it might take to cross those mountains,” Uncle Ben asked.
“Could be over a week if the path disfavors us,” the Trapper said, “While the mountains encircling inner Calta are not the largest nor widest, their paths twist and turn, leading to wasted time.”
“Do you think we will be safe crossing?” the girl said.
“It is impossible to say,” the Trapper said. “We’re later in the season than I would’ve liked.”
“Then all we can do is proceed,” Sworder said.
The Trapper smiled faintly, “The Kazan speaks correctly.” He then set off at a brisk pace. Steadily the path rose and became rocky. The Trees died away as they pressed on. Even the grass found difficulty growing on the barren landscape surrounding them.
“Why do so few trees grow in these mountains?” the girl asked.
“Because these mountains are mostly rock and few trees can take root here,” The Trapper said. “Ah, here we are.”
The mouth of the pass was flanked on either side by large stone shelves. A worn wooden sign stood neglected at the entrance, any writing on it long worn away. However, behind the sign carved in the stone lay the weathered words ‘Hooftail pass’. The Trapper barely acknowledged the sign or carving, starting down the pass.
“How is this sign still standing?” the girl asked.
“I do not know,” Uncle Ben said. “But it kind of reminds me of Calta itself.”
“What do you mean?” the girl asked her Uncle.
“Like the words on that sign, the history of Calta seems long forgotten, worn down by time. Yet if someone is willing, one day, it might be rediscovered.”
“Are you claiming that one day Kazans and people may once again coexist in Calta?” Sworder inquired.
“It’s hard to say,” Uncle Ben said, with a short laugh. “Kazan and people have had a long history. And not all of it has been peaceful, but would you not agree that many of the free Shadow Warriors of Calta seem willing to help?”
“What’s the hold up?” the Trapper called back to them.
“Sorry,” the girl said, running after him.
“What do you think?” Ranin asked. “Do you think Calta can change for the better?”
“That Marshal has once again begun protecting his Guardian Tree. Will he be able to spread such beliefs?” Namic replied. “Can one man change the heart of the nation?”
“We’ve seen it before,” Ranin said. “Have we not?”
“And we have seen those persecuted for their ideals.”
Ranin smiled, “Depressing as always.”
The pass was a narrow strip which wound between the rock shelves and the ledges as it journeyed deeper into the barren mountains. Goats bleated at them as they watched the party’s trek and climbed the sheer rock faces. It was all new to the girl who pointed each thing out to Sworder. As they went deeper into the mountain range, strange holes appeared in the rock face and along the path. Some were quite small able to fit a person’s arm but others were colossal, several times the size of the girl. Yet all of them seemed to travel deep into the mountain.
“What are those?” the girl asked the Trapper, pointing out a massive hole in the mountain side.
“Dragon’s Burrows,” the Trapper replied. “Legends say that at one time Dragons ruled what we now know as Calta. But when the mountains were raised they were sealed far below, held dormant by the winter cold. Some warm seasons, it is said, Dragons would awake and claw their way to the surface. Thus the mountains which create the great Basin of Calta are a maze of unnavigable paths. Some speak of a day yet to be, where winter never comes and the earth is shattered by the claws of the ancient Dragons, long forgotten returning from their eternal slumber.”
“Dragons,” the girl said with a shiver.
“I see that story does not agree with you,” the Trapper laughed. “I know other ones from outside of Calta like the Sphinx of Aridia or the Great Gate in the far north Galacia, but those stories would not have answered your questions.”
“Yeah, uh,” the girl said as she glanced at one of the larger crevices near them. “We won’t be seeing any Dragons will we?”
“I’ve never seen one myself,” the Trapper said. “And with it growing colder, even if the stories are true, I doubt they would be coming to the surface.”
“Do you not believe in Dragons?” the girl asked.
“They’re real all right,” the Trapper said. “I have known warriors from Gallad who have faced these beasts. I just wonder if they really are responsible for these burrows.”
“Do you know,” the girl began, “what a Dragon’s weakness is?”
“What’s this all of a sudden?”
“Um, well,” the girl said shyly, attempting to hide her embarrassment.
“Well, as I said earlier I’ve never seen one myself,” the Trapper continued on with a smile. “Dragons have very few weaknesses; their eyes are most obvious but they have several defenses to protect them. Their eyelids are quite strong and can withstand even the thrust of a well aimed spear. The main advice I have received in dealing with Dragons is to attack against the grain of their scales.”
“Against the grain?”
“Yes, if you do not have a weapon which is strong enough t’ pierce through its natural armor, then you have to make a gap in it. The only other way to circumvent their armor is to attack their open mouth when they attempt to bite, if you are brave enough.”
“Or when they spit out fire,” the girl said thoughtfully.
“Dragon’s don’t spit fire,” he replied. “If you see one doing that it’s a Kazan, not a Dragon.”
“Oh,” the girl said.
“Is there a reason you are so curious?”
“It’s nothing really,” the girl said.
“I see,” the Trapper said, giving her a curious look. “Even someone like you has things you would rather not share.”
Subconsciously, the girl slowed and the distance between her and the Trapper grew. Uncle Ben matched her pace and silently walked beside her. When he finally broke the silence it startled the girl. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, concerned.
“I was wondering… well,” she paused. “I wonder what Alasia is doing.”
“You should be more honest with yourself,” Sworder said. “What you mean to say was you wonder how her brother is doing.”
“It’s been a month, I can’t help but worry,” she blurted out. She looked back and forth at the two on either side and blushed. “Don’t gang up on me like that,” she said, before stalking off.
“Careful. Do not wander too far,” Uncle Ben said.
“I will be with her so do not worry,” Sworder said.
“I still worry,” Uncle Ben said to no one, as he watched the two move farther up the path.
“Wait! I said, wait,” Sworder said, grabbing the girl’s hand stopping her after she traveled quite a distance in front of the group, “We should not be this far from the others.”
“I don’t care,” the girl said.
“Is something wrong?” Sworder said. “Your face is red.”
“Shut up, Shut up!” the girl cried, slamming a clenched fist into his chest, “You don’t know how it feels. Everyday I try to forget about him, but I can’t. I always think there is something we could have done. Some way we could have saved him from Bargoth. I just can’t help it. I feel like we ran away, abandoned him, betrayed him. Here we are in Calta far away, not even trying to help him. I-I can’t stand that.”
Sworder sighed as he staged to the Vassal of Ice, his large teal cloak swaying softly in the wind, “No, there was nothing we could have done to change that outcome, and there is nothing we can do to help.”
“I know that!” the girl cried again hitting him once more with her fist. Before letting her head drop onto his shoulder and letting the tears she held back flow freely. “I know that,” she whispered, not even attempting to wipe away the tears. “But I just can’t accept it.”
Slowly the Vassal of Ice wrapped his cloak around her and silently held her until she had no more tears to shed, “Rest up. You will feel refreshed.” The Vassal said as he placed his thumb under the base of her neck. Ice crystals formed around his thumb as the girl’s muscles began to relax.
“So cold,” she murmured before going limp in his arms.
“I should have realized sooner,” the Vassal said. “But in truth I too can not forget about that day or any other in which I almost lost you. I think constantly about what would have happened if circumstances were only slightly different. It is almost too much to bear. I can not change the past nor fix the future. All I am capable of doing is protecting you.
“You know I am the Vassal of Ice, learned in the use of magic and ice. I am too weak in this form to make you forget, however I am able to dull the pain of your memories.” He continued, placing his hand on her brow. A circlet of ice formed around the crown of her head. When it was fully formed the Vassal began stroking her hair. “Rest easy, when you awake, much will be better.”
“Was it right for him to do that?” Ranin said.
“I can not say,” Namic said, “however playing with another’s memories is serious and should not be done lightly. The short term effects are draining and the long term unknown.”
“Just because you have the knowledge of magic doesn’t mean you should use it,” Ranin agreed. “And taking a precious memory is severe no matter how painful it is.”
“He did not take it,” Namic said. “He simply reduced its importance, freezing it deep in her mind.”
“What do we have here,” the Trapper said as he rose over a rise in the road to see the girl asleep laying on the Vassal’s shoulder with his cloak over the two of them.
“She grew tired so I thought a rest was prudent,” the Vassal of Ice said, beginning to rise and shake the girl awake.
“So cold,” the girl murmured as she stirred.
“Take my cloak,” the Vassal said, throwing it around her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Are you well,” Uncle Ben asked.
“Just a little cold,” the girl said, drawing the cloak close.
“Are you sure?” Uncle Ben asked.
“She has a lot on her mind which she must sort out,” The Vassal of Ice said. “And she is quite tired.”
“We have only a little more walking today,” the Trapper said. “She can rest afterwards.”
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