IABD 34: Wounds that Heal and Wounds that Do Not

After spending Bregindoure’s first sunrise as a free man with each other, the Stonebreaker family finally went to their beds, sleeping a full day and night as though their minds and bodies needed healing from years of exhaustion.

During his sleep, Matthias had only trained lightly in the Dream-Realm, waking up more refreshed and energetic than even after his Awakening. He’d felt that something was off when he was in the Dream-Realm, but what it was, he couldn’t tell so, he’d put thoughts of it away for another night.

The following day had dawned with much for the family to do: Bregindoure was up before everyone else and the first thing he did was to go outside, stretching and soaking in his second sunrise. He seemed at peace, humming, relaxing in the daylight as it reddened his sun-starved skin and—to everyone’s surprise—greeted his father’s guards with easy smiles and twinkling eyes, as though not even they could dampen his spirits.

The only thing that finally brought him indoors to join Matthias, Dagma and Beggahasta, was the tempting aroma of breakfast. Butter-whipped eggs, thick flatbread covered in melted goat cheese, yogurt with honey and nuts, thick slices of cured bacon and salted caramel apples had called to him, and he’d eaten his fill. When he was finally finished, sprawled out in a chair and patting his belly, all that remained were some crumbs. The brothers then fetched a pair of small wagons for the family to take to Bregindoure’s tower to gather up his possessions. They pulled them themselves.

“Be careful,” their mother warned as they travelled along the mountain road. “It seems Eklund’s guards have cordoned off the tower under the pretense of investigating how you supposedly broke out, Bregindoure. No doubt they’ll be trying to keep us away, so just be watchful and alert, children.”

The Stonebreaker family arrived at the tower.

…only to find there was no resistance.

Since there were also no guards.

Not even one.

“What happened to the guards?” Dagma asked, her head swivelling back and forth, eyes scanning nearby trees.

Beggahasta frowned. “I wish I knew.”

“So, this is what it looks like from outside.” Bregindoure raised his hand, blocking out the sun, looking up at the tower. “I never thought I’d see it from out here. There’s something eerie about it, I think.”

“Yes, there is.” Mathias gestured to the empty clearing. “Especially since there’s no one here. Where did all the guards go?”

“We should ask Sur Friya.” Beggahasta released the yoke of the wagon that she was using as handle. “We’ll go find her on our way back home and see what she knows. It truly is quite eerie around here; so, let’s gather your things quickly and be away from this place, Breg.”

Finding the door unlocked, the Stonebreaker family entered the former prison in silence. Bregindoure had to crouch and sidle his way up the stairs. Matthias watched him closely.

‘Is he going to be okay?’ he wondered as they reached the top of the staircase. ‘What if it’s too soon for him to be back here—’

“So, this is what things look like from this side,” Bregindoure said cheerfully, putting his hands on his hips. He strode to the cell, peering through the bars, taking everything in, including the hole he’d knocked through the wall, now covered with an oiled, canvas tarp.

“You said something like that when we were outside.” Dagma said.

“I will keep saying things like that. I keep seeing things from new angles.” His voice was light. “I’m just glad to see the world in all kinds of new and different ways. Come, do you have the key, mother? We should get started.”

Between Dagma and Beggahasta’s Gift, and Matthias, Beggahasta and Bregindoure’s immense strength, it took very little time to load everything they needed from the tower into the wagons.

Carrying the belongings downstairs—while Bregindoure hummed an infectious tune that was quickly picked up by his siblings—they packed the wagons carefully, as though preparing for a long trip.

Tying down his brother’s things, Matthias watched his family with a smile. His brother was free, easy-going, and teasing him and Dagma. His sister was unburdened and light.

His mother smiled a smile that spread to her eyes, seeming to reach down to her soul.

Everything was wonderful.

‘I helped do this,’ he thought as he and Bregindoure pulled the carts—the brothers insisting their mother and sister ride on them—up the road to their home. ‘I helped make us so happy.’

Bregindoure kept casting glances behind him as they walked, watching the tower shrink in the distance. “You know what is unfathomably strange? This might be the very last time I’m around this place. I spent almost my entire life here and I have no reason to ever go back. None.”

“No, you don’t,” Matthias agreed, easily pulling his wagon along the rocky road. “You never have to see that place again, if you don’t want to.”

“How does it feel, Breg?” Beggahasta asked, a smile in her voice.

The eldest of the Stonebreaker siblings was silent for a time, his gaze shifting to the sky. “Unfathomably strange...but unfathomably good. I can feel the wind on my face, and the sun’s so warm it’s burning my skin, but I do not hate that. It’s…odd looking above and not seeing a ceiling. I feel like I’m going to float into the sky with every step. There’s an entire world out there and it feels so intimidatingly large.”

“Well get used to it.” Matthias grinned. “You’re intimidatingly large too.”

“Hah, I guess I am at that.” 

Matthias went quiet as they walked through the mountains, leaving the tower long behind. After a time, Beggahasta took her harp out, growing it to full size and setting it on the driver’s seat beside her. Soon, the melodious notes and her voice drifted through the mountains.

Dagma joined her as both brothers listened and walked, enjoying the music and mountain air. Birds chirped. Mud and rock crunched beneath their feet. The scents of the forest surrounded them.

It all brought Matthias deeper into the moment. As the song and sounds drifted through his senses, his thoughts were set adrift as well. He imagined that they were not walking toward their home, but instead, starting a much longer journey. One that would take them to places in Evalmera he’d never seen before, and into realms beyond that.

Those thoughts accompanied him as they pulled the carts, only interrupted when they reached Sur Friya’s training grounds.

A familiar face watched them from beside the road.

“Friya!” Beggahasta called, waving to the knight.

The warrior greeted them in return, her plate armour shining and a curious look on her scarred face. “Greetings.” She turned to Bregindoure. “Congratulations on your freedom.”

The brothers pulled the carts to a halt in front of the knight.

A flood of emotions crossed Bregindoure’s face. “Er, thank you, Sur Friya. I know we haven’t spoken much, but I look forward to getting to know you.”

“Of course. You will need training, and I will be happy to help you on that journey. You had no trouble at the tower, I take it?” She nodded toward their carts.

“None,” Matthias said. “Do you know what’s going on? Where are the guards?”

“I heard the earl called them—except those posted at your home—back to the castle last night,” Sur Friya reported. “The keep’s been shut down as if he’s expecting a siege. No one is allowed in or out.”

Matthias frowned. “Really? Why would he be expecting a siege?”

“Well, consider it. You have good reason to seek vengeance,” the knight pointed out. “And he hasn’t really had a good time of things lately. Have you heard about the wounds you dealt to your tormenters?”

Matthias thought about the mental wounds he’d found on Kari in his dreams. He doubted she meant that. “No, I haven’t. What’s going on?”

Sur Friya glanced back and forth, her voice dropping low as she leaned forward. “The healers have been having trouble with them: broken bones and gashes are abnormally slow to heal and they’re in a constant fight against infection. If one didn’t know better, one would think you’d cursed their wounds.”

Matthias said nothing.

When he’d fought Haakon, Petric and Siegfried, his intention had been to make them suffer. He’d wanted them to feel every bit of pain they’d given him and more; it sounded like that was exactly what was happening to them.

Once again, he swore to himself to always guard his intentions carefully: his actions could be devastating if he were to act carelessly.

“There are even questions as to whether they’ll ever fight again. The earl lost one of his champions and possibly three warriors who would be loyal to him in the future.” Sur Friya’s expression was unreadable. “Then there was you getting your freedom, Bregindoure: misfortune has fallen on his house, and I have no doubt he fears your wrath. And yours too, Beggahasta.”

“Then he is a bigger fool than I thought,” Beggahasta said. “If I never see his face again in this life, I would be very glad for it. Besides, he has failed my former husband. Eaderic is the sort of man who threw aside his wife and family when he realised his sons would have struggles: what will a man like that do to someone who has failed him so catastrophically?”

“I’d pay a lot of coin to find out.” Matthias’ grin was vicious. 

“Mmm, there are many who are happy to see his fortunes turn,” Sur Friya said. “But be warned: word has spread that you have the Rune of Clarity, but there are those who will still…have opinions.”

Bregindoure shrugged. “Let them have them. To them, I am still a Beast. To me, they are nothing. They did not exist in my life while I was imprisoned: if they do not accept me, they can continue not existing in my life.”

“Well said, Breg!” Matthias agreed. His eyes moved toward the sky, expecting to see a black carriage on the horizon. “We have more important things to think about.”

###

The days that followed were some of the most peaceful and happy of Matthias Stonebreaker’s life. 

The earl remained locked up in his keep while the guards around the Stonebreaker home decreased in number. There was no Kari, Petric or Siegfried to worry about. Bregindoure was free and Dagma was safe.

It was as though an invisible weight had been lifted from the young greatfolk’s shoulders: for the first time in his life, he could truly focus on his family, himself and his life without fear of some tragedy falling on them.

He woke up early every morning, ate with his family, trained in the Way of Stone with his mother, sparred at Sur Friya’s training grounds, worked with Adgar, then went to Altaizar’s tower to train.

As evening came, he would go home, spend time with his siblings, eat supper, then fall into the dream realm, where he would continue training during the night. Not that long ago, he had been desperate to Awaken, desperate to defeat Haakon, Petric, and Siegfried, and desperate to free Bregindoure.

Now, there was no more desperation: he could enjoy his training for what it was.

His mind could sink deeper into training for the sake of training, building his body into a better version of itself, and preparing for whatever the future held.

His greater focus only helped his growth.

He increased the number of times he could pump his soul, circulating his life energy: the spiritual motion was growing easier with each passing day and night.

As he trained, though, Matthias could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. As the nights wore on, he could not escape the feeling. Nor could he ignore it.

“It feels like things changed after my shadow took in…whatever it was from the shadows of my kills,” he remarked as he turned over rocks, sifting through the mist in a dream. “But what’s changed?”

No matter how hard he searched through his dream, he could find no living thing, aside from himself, in it. He found no plant life, let alone creatures that could watch or stalk him.

“Maybe I’m losing my mind,” he wondered aloud after several hours of searching. “I should check Altaizar’s books…see if I can find anything.”

Giving up the search, he went back to training...all the while feeling like he was being watched from the shadows.

###

“This is odd.” Altaizar stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back. “Very odd.”

“What is it?” Matthias asked from the mage’s reading nook, looking up from a book on Divine Breath.

“It’s been more than a week since you saw that carriage in the sky,” Altaizar noted. “And there has been no sign of it since. I’ve even asked around in the village and some of the surrounding farms and hunter’s cottages: everyone says the same. It flew through the mountains like a Pegasus being chased by Anaxadar himself, then vanished. I have even called the wind to try and get a message to mother…with no reply. No sign of Lord Bloodweep, either.”

“Are you worried?” Matthias asked.

“About Lord Bloodweep? No, mother will take care of him. About her? Hah!” Altaizar gave a bark of a laugh. “No, that old horned owl’s tougher than a piece of ironwood, meaner than a Yahari honey badger crossed with an iron-fang and she could snap a storm in half if she really put her mind to it.”

“Is she really that dangerous?” Matthias asked.

“Dangerous?” The mage’s eyes drifted upward, his tongue touching his teeth in thought. “Depends on the sort of danger you’re talking about. A desperate man with a rusty dirk in a dockside town’s probably more dangerous to most people than a wooly mammoth, but the latter—despite not being a predator—is far more powerful and deadly when roused. Mistress Polla of the Vale of Magi is no warmage, nor does she seek fights unprovoked, but her might with The Gift, her knowledge and willpower, make her a nightmare for most on the battlefield. She is a person of lordly caliber: even some very old dragons would need to take her by surprise to come out of such an encounter unscathed. Besides, if she were to be involved in a fight, everyone within a hundred miles, would most likely know it.”

“Wow, is she a lot stronger than you?” Matthias asked, imagining natural disasters.

“What an impolite question,” Altaizar chuckled. “She’s more experienced than I am for sure. I’m much older than I look—The Gift slows aging quite nicely, even without Life Enforcement—but she’s old and has spent most of her life honing her knowledge and natural talents. Maybe I’ll catch up in skill one day, who knows? But, in any case, she should have been here by now.”

“Maybe she’s busy doing something?” Matthias suggested. “You did say she had a lot to do in the Vale of Magi before she came up here…maybe she has more business to take care of in Evalmera before she gets here.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Mother always does have something up those sleeves of hers,” the mage grunted. “Listen, Matthias. Be careful around her. That old horned owl has plans upon plans, and she has a political mind: she’s one of the few human masters in the Vale of Magi who has kept her position even after the elves took over the place, and that is no accident. She’ll help you, of course, but for her own motives as well…which, come to think of it, is not that different from me.”

“Well, I’ll be careful, Master Altaizar,” Matthias said. He looked around the room: many of the mage’s books were packed away in great cases and chests. “Are you really leaving when she arrives?”

“Absolutely.” Altaizar had steel in his words. “Trust me, better that mother and I not occupy the same space for too long. Besides, you have given me plenty of things to investigate for my own research. Your brother doesn’t need me anymore, you don’t need me anymore and—after I teach a certain little mageling a lesson or two—my business here in Barrowgate will be concluded.”

“Ah,” Matthias sighed. “For what it’s worth…I’m going to miss you, Master Altaizar. I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. And, uh, I hope we’ll see each other again.”

The mage gave him a broad smile. “Oh, I am sure we will. More than sure. I’ll drop in to visit you one day—to see how the seeds I’ve planted have sprouted—and even if I didn’t want to see you...” His grey eyes turned back to the sky. “...you, me, your brother, Beggahasta, and probably your sister too…we’re not like normal people.”

“What do you mean?” Matthias asked.

“I mean…hmmmm…” Altaizar paused. “How do I put this? We have greatness in us: a certain aspect to us that peasants and priests would call ‘destiny’. I don’t subscribe to such quaint notions of prophecy—I’ll leave that to charlatans and priests—but I do think that when greatness burns bright enough in one’s potential, that fire will spread. Just like a wildfire can’t help but consume the forest around it. We will all grow, I suspect, and once we have grown large enough…well, we won’t be able to help it: we’ll have to bump into each other.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it. Breg and I are pretty big,” Matthias joked.

Altaizar chuckled. “I suppose you are.” He looked at Matthias closely. “Have you given any thought to what you will do with your life?”

Matthias considered the question for a moment, closing his book. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never been free to think about it before.”

“You should; you’re getting older, and it’s time to start preparing for whatever path you decide to follow,” Altaizar suggested. “I doubt you’ll be satisfied as a stonemason or a simple warrior here in Barrowgate, would you?”

“I don’t think I would,” Matthias admitted. “I love carving stone, and I like the village…especially now that folks don’t look at me with pity all the time. But…”

“But you wish for more?”

Matthias’ mind returned to his thoughts about adventuring. “I think I do.”

“Good. Ambition will drive you. Now that your brother is free, your entire family is free. You’ll always have ties to these ancestral lands of yours, but you can go and explore where you wish. Consider that.”

“...I think, I will.”

“If only all my pupils were so open to my words,” Altaizar lamented, pointing to the sun’s position. “Well, you had better start heading home. It’s getting late. I’ll inform you if there’s any sign of mother.”

“Got it.” Matthias jumped up from his chair. “And Master Altaizar? Thank you for everything.”

“No, thank you, Matthias,” Altaizar grinned. “You freed your brother, you’ve ignited your ambition, but you’ve also done both for me. Now, go. Enjoy your life for a time. Shadows will fall later, and that is all the more reason to drink in the sun.”

“Got it!” Matthias said. “And I’ll tell mother, Breg and Dagma you said hello!”

The young greatfolk went down the tower stairs two at a time, leaving the mage alone. Altaizar stayed at the window, watching Matthias run down the road, his long strides carrying him home.

“Treat him well, mother,” Altaizar whispered. “Treat him better than you did me.”

###

As night fell over the Wolfwood, five cloaked figures emerged from a deep thicket, blood dripping from their weapons. Their breaths came quick and heavy.

“Piss n’ nails,” one swore, his voice deep and rough, like boulders grinding on boulders. His maul was coated in something wet and thick. “We did not get paid nearly enough for this.”

“No complaining,” another said, a pair of antlers rising from his steel helmet. “The job paid better than most, went quicker than most, and none of us have lost our guts.”

“There is time for that yet,” a third spoke the midland tongue with a rolling accent. She whispered something. Her pair of crossbows cocked themselves with a steely click. A pair of quarrels floated from the quivers at her waist, setting themselves against the strings.

Howls erupted from the woods behind them, sending tremors through the group.

“Great wolf?” asked the fourth figure, his voice trembling.

“Don’t know, never heard one before.” The first figure lifted his dripping maul.

“They’re being drawn to the blood!” the fifth cried.

“There’s a lot more blood we left behind, then. Even if they are coming after us, it don’t matter.” The one with a stag’s antlers on his helm looked down at an object held securely in his hand. An object of delicate glass; something quivered inside it that his eyes couldn’t quite focus on. “We’re done our work: time to run. The Gods’ Shield is due west and the rendezvous is soon. We dawdle and we get dead. Even worse, we don’t get paid. Let’s move!”

Together the group went west…

…toward the village of Barrowgate.

###

Author's Note

Let's gooo!

Hello everybody. We now move to 5 days a week for 20 chapters! I hope you enjoy it. Here we start building to a new arc while getting to know Breg a little more.

Also in D&D 3.5 there was a type of damage called Vile damage that just could not be healed unless you were in a sanctified area. That had some inspiration for what's happening to these wounds.

Well that and Khal Drogo. Poor, poor Khal Drogo.

Alrighty, cya tomorrow!