Cold Sleep

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Eventually night came and Allabva’s fatigue peaked with the disappearing of the sun. They had found a well not long after their conversation, where Allabva had filled and emptied her waterskin twice, then filled it again the third time.

Allabva’s feet felt almost numb from the leagues she had walked this day, and her eyelids heavy from being awake since the early hours back home. Hronomon insisted that they continue pressing forward until they found a copse of trees. There, they could hide their presence from anybody else, if others traveled along this road at night.

Allabva curled up at the foot of one of the trees, holding her cloak around herself, trying to use it as a blanket.

“Do the Gha-Nomord sleep?”

“Yes, but we do not need it as long as you do. I will sleep, but expect me to rouse you again before light.”

“But there’s nobody here to hide our departure from.”

“There are leagues to cover before we reach the Shrongelin.”

“How long will it take?”

“At your pace today, I think it will take us eight or nine days. Today, then seven or eight more.”

“If my feet hold up.” Allabva realized she should keep close watch on the well-being of her feet while she was on the road. She sat up, removing her boots. She opened her bag and pulled out her second spare pair of socks, pulling them on and rotating her first pair of socks into the bag. She put the second pair which she had just removed, tied outside to air out. Finally, she put her boots back on to keep as much warmth as she could during the night. Then she lay back down and pulled her cloak overheard, leaving only a gap for air.

In this position she spent the night, trying to use her arm as a pillow and shivering in the cold. Three or four times she woke up, closing the air hole in her cloak in order to retain the warmth of her breath, opening it again only when the staleness of the air overwhelmed her.

When Hronomon woke Allabva, she was both sorely still in need of more sleep, and relieved that it was time to stop the frustrating effort of trying to get sleep under these conditions. They set off again After Allabva kicked a hole in the dirt with the toe of her boot, took care of her morning business while Hronomon stood on the opposite side of the copse, and covered it up again. Allabva continued suffering with the sleepiness in her eyes for a time after they started walking, so she didn’t feel inclined to speak in the beginning.

As the sky began to fill with light over the horizon ahead of them, Allabva woke up more, and her mind became more active. “Is there any way we could invert our traveling schedule?”

“Invert in what way?”

“The hours.”

“You want to travel at night?”

“Yes. Really, I want to sleep during the day. It’s too cold at night. My sleep was very poor and I am carrying over some of yesterday’s fatigue into today.”

Hronomon’s horse-like eyes appeared contemplative. “It may be for the best. The danger with traveling at night is that we will constantly be coming upon that which we do not so easily see. But if you need to travel at night in order to keep your pace, then that may be what we need to do. But if we begin a new schedule this afternoon, I do not think we can afford that much of a delay.”

“Perhaps we can start it with naps? Maybe we can do just a few hours this afternoon and then continue on.”

“Very well,” Hronomon responded. “This afternoon, you can sleep in the warmth.”

“Thank you.”

“In the meantime, I think we should spread apart from each other. There is danger in being recognized as travelling together, human and Nomord. Keep walking this pace along this road. I will wander as the Ta-Nomord do, but although I may not always be within sight, I will keep myself near enough.”

“Alright,” Allabva breathed. Walking by herself might get lonely.

As Hronomon turned to prance off into the grass to their left, Allabva thought she would really like a certain young man’s company along this walk. With that thought she remembered the flute Delgan had given her, still hanging around her neck. She had forgotten to leave it with her mother to return to him!

She pulled it out of her shirt now and removed the chain from around her neck. As she walked on still, she looked to her left and saw Hronomon trotting through the tall grass, meandering towards a lone tree as if to investigate it. Allabva looked back at the flute in her hands, turning it over again to inspect all sides. It had an empty bore from the bottom up to a stopper in the top. The stopper had a hole through which one breathed, and immediately below the stopper on the front was a vent with a wedge at the bottom. Below the vent there were tone holes that she practiced covering with her fingers. Then, admiring the silver sheen, she looked at the back and traced the engraved lines with one finger.

“I will make it back to this place,” she voiced aloud.

Deciding that she didn’t need Hronomon’s permission to make gentle noises while ostensibly traveling alone, Allabva held the flute up and spoke willfully, though Delgan hadn’t said that her tone of voice was important. “Beware the wolves.”

The same sweet tune rolled forth out of the little flute, and Allabva listened to it closely. It was both pure and haunting, and the music made her feel like it spoke of days past and yet looked with hope to the future.

Allabva cast a glance over towards Hronomon. She thought he had lifted his head sharply a moment after the music began, but he was too far away in the tall grass for her to see clearly if he was looking at her. At least he wasn’t standing still, so if he did disapprove, it must not have been a very great issue.

Allabva had an idea. Maybe this expedition need not seem so monotonous, nor lonely. Perhaps she could feel as if Delgan were there with her. She placed her walking stick under one armpit to free up both of her hands.

“Beware of the wolves,” she spoke again, and repeated it as soon as the music had started. Holding the memory of the first note in her mind, she brought the flute to her lips and blew. It didn’t match the pitch she held in her mind. She put her fingers down to cover all the tone holes, then tried it again. She lifted fingers until she found the same pitch as the one that started Delgan’s grandmother’s song.

Once she had the first note, she held the flute firmly in her hand again and spoke the phrase to activate the song once more. As it began, she quickly stopped it, then brought the flute to her mouth and found the second pitch.

In this manner Allabva passed the morning, and as she learned additional notes, she had to start from the top playing the song to ensure she could remember everything she learned. Not all notes were equally easy to find. She quickly discovered that there were not enough tone holes on the flute to produce the different pitches that appeared in the song. She had to find combinations involving leaving a higher hole open, or half covered, while covering lower holes along the body of the flute.

It worked to some extent. Allabva found the music helped her feel close to Delgan despite the distance. At one point she was reminded how she was standing him up for their dinner engagement, which made her lament the journey she had begun, feeling resentment towards Hronomon. She mentally corrected herself; Hronomon wasn’t at fault, nor was the Shrongelin. It was Sacalai’s doing that made it necessary.

Having disturbed her own practice flow, Allabva put the flute away under her shirt and pulled out some of the food she had brought with her. As she did so, she looked at the collection she had brought and did a tally in her mind of what she had consumed the previous day, then divided her remaining supplies by that amount in her mind. This ought to last about five more days. It was unfortunate that she would need to find food somewhere on the way, but that was the reality.

Allabva was finishing her meal on the go for now and putting the rest of her food away in her bag when Hronomon trotted up.

“You walk faster when you’re playing that whistle. Good work.”

“Thank you.” Allabva guessed it was because it lifted her spirits. She hadn’t noticed she was walking any faster.

Hronomon didn’t seem to be in the mood for chit chat. “We’re nearing a couple of towns. It is more likely now that you’ll meet travelers on the way. If they raise conversation, I suggest you tell them you’re from Palf Glen. Your family farms rye. That’s generic enough in this region that nobody should question it, and it’s far enough away that they will be less likely to think you may know somebody they know.”

“Wouldn’t that be lying?”

“Yes, is that an issue for you?” His question was matter-of-fact and didn’t sound accusatory in any way.

“I’m not used to telling falsehoods. I just like to be who I am.”

“And I commend you for that. But you’re going up against Sacalai, the greatest evil this world has known. Any measure taken to guarantee success would be justified. It would be no great crime to protect yourself.”

Allabva didn’t expect this interpretation of morality from one of the Nomord. “I agree that there’s nothing wrong with protecting myself. I’m not sure that means it’s alright to suppose I can take the reins on what’s right and wrong. Or to suppose that even you can take the reins.”

“I see. I’ll romp along closer to you while we are near settlements if there’s a higher risk you may come under danger.” Hronomon paused talking for a moment while falling into step beside Allabva, then expressed himself further. “I have to admit that although it may prove inconvenient, I like the way you think. Do not assume that what I tell you is always the right thing. I promise not to guide you astray intentionally, and I like to think that I have a fair handle on right and wrong at my age, but you should still run everything through your own moral checks.”

Allabva wasn’t sure how to reply to what sounded like a compliment of character coming from an immortal magical beast. “Then I promise to continue to speak frankly.”

“Good. Don’t stop. Who knows, but we may need your perspective. Play that flute some more and keep the pace up while you walk.”

“Wait,” Allabva said, sensing that Hronomon was about to meander off again, “if the Ta-Nomord couldn’t see you, then why were you able to see her?”

“I am not entirely sure. Perhaps you should ask the Shrongelin when we meet him. Apparently, that aspect of the shield goes one way only. Perhaps there are other aspects that go the other way, of which I am unaware.”

“One of the things you have forgotten?”

“I’m afraid so.” The Nomord actually lowered his head as if he were ashamed of something that he could not have controlled. “Like the bond,” he added.

Allabva tilted her head to one side as she looked at him. “But you told me about the bond.”

“Just because I know about it does not mean that I remember how to perform it. That is something the world must hope that the Shrongelin has remembered. It is something that he had to forget also when he was Hronomon.”

“I guess I can see that,” Allabva conceded. “How does it feel to know about something and knowing that you have forgotten it yourself?”

“It feels…awry. But awry is not a new feeling to the Nomord. It has been part of our existence ever since we founded Sacalai’s prison. We had to change the nature of our existence in order to put that shield in place. Nothing has been fully right since then.” Hronomon’s voice sounded forlorn, missing something significant.

“So when we rebuild her prison, are we really fixing things?”

“As much as can be hoped,” Hronomon replied weakly.

“Is it possible that the Shrongelin won’t remember how to perform the bond?”

“It is always possible. So far, every Shrongelin has remembered it.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Ruin reigns. Sacalai will break free from her prison and rule the world with armies and terror.”

“Won’t people fight against her? Won’t the Nomord fight against her? Can the Nomord fight if the Ta-Nomord cannot even see the Gha-Nomord?”

“Of course, some people will fight against her, but others will be bent by the influence that she wields over their minds. The Nomord will fight against Sacalai and her followers to the last beast among us. When the prison falls, as it eventually will, we Gha-Nomord will no longer be locked inside the outer shield, and the Ta-Nomord will not be trapped on the outside. The Ta-Nomord will regain full faculty of their minds, ready and capable to impart wisdom once again. But to what end? We will be able to commune once more, but we would gladly give that up again in order to reconstruct the prison. But our power is already dedicated to the Shrongelin and Hronomon. If the Shrongelin forgets the bond when he must create it, that does not break the Construct. Instead, it simply leaves him powerless to re-found the prison. Unable to fight mightily enough to even survive to that point, perhaps.”

“But you say that every Shrongelin so far has remembered.” Allabva stated it as fact and waited for Hronomon to confirm.

“Yes. Otherwise, you would not have been able to grow up in peace as you did. The world would already be in chaos ages ago.”

“How long ago did Sacalai take power? How many Shrongelins have there been?”

“That… I forget.” Hronomon did not offer anything else.

“Can we really win this?”

“Of course, young one. We have re imprisoned Sacalai successfully every time so far, haven’t we?”Illabva found this encouraging to think about. “So it’s like a recipe.”

“A recipe?”

“Oh. I guess the Nomord don’t cook, do you? When we make bread, we have a recipe. A set of instructions. If you do it wrong, the bread turns out flat, or too salty, or something else. As long as you follow the instructions correctly, you’ll get good bread.”

“Then yes, it is like a recipe. As long as we follow the pattern set in the Construct, we will successfully re imprison Sacalai and the world will be safe until the cycle repeats.”

This was comforting. “Alright, so I just need to hurry along and meet the Shrongelin first, and we’ll go from there?”

“That is correct. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must stop walking alongside you when we may encounter people. Play your flute and walk fast.”

“Wait,” Allabva said again, thinking of Mellier’s fascination with stories. “You exist, which I hadn’t supposed before. What about the Nightshade Unicorn? Does he…does he serve Sacalai?”

Hronomon snorted in derision. “I have heard of these tales. The Nightshade Unicorn is a concept, an idea. There is no Nightshade beast to fear. Excuse me.”

Saying nothing more, Hronomon meandered off into the tall grass on the south side of the road.

As Allabva watched him go, she wondered about the accuracy of saying that remaking the prison meant the world would be safe, if there was still a certainty that Sacalai would return again. It seemed to her that they would never be settled unless Sacalai were finished off. According to Hronomon, each cycle used up one of the Nomord. How long would it be until they were all gone? If the Ta-Nomord couldn’t see the Gha-Nomord, she didn’t think there could be any new Nomord created to take the place of the long line of Shrongelins. Eventually, there wouldn’t be any Gha-Nomord who still had magic left to step into the roles of Hronomon and Shrongelin. Did this mean that Sacalai would inevitably win the final day?

Troubled, Allabva tried putting the flute to her lips again to learn its haunting song. She found she was still distracted by the desire to puzzle out some better way through the eternal crisis with Sacalai. She listened to music instead, activating the enchanted flute’s ability to play itself, listening to the tune time after time.

Allabva almost tripped over her own boots when she was pulled out of her reverie by a group of people coming slowly her way. She should have seen them when they were still farther away. “Beware the wolves,” she muttered, holding the flute in front of her and stopping the music.

Then she immediately brought it to her mouth and tried to play its song manually, placing her fingers over the holes the best she could remember after her study this morning. Hopefully, the other people were far enough away that they wouldn’t notice it wasn’t Allabva playing the flute at first. She’d rather avoid any questions that might lead conversation toward any single-horned equine creatures.

She continued walking with some trepidation and put the flute away as the party neared in order to greet them. On second view, it was easy to tell now that the party was actually travelling in the same direction as Allabva, but she was walking faster and thus would overtake them soon. She looked all around for Hronomon and spotted him in the distance to the south, watching her. She hoped he was close enough in case there turned out to be trouble.

Allabva continued forward. She saw that they appeared to be a family: a man, woman, and two boys who appeared close in age to each other, and both a little older than Mellier. One of them dragged a small two-wheeled cart behind him with one hand. The boys noticed her walking up behind the family, one of them commenting to the other and pointing back.

“Hello,” Allabva said, waving. There was no sense in losing her manners just because she was trying to stop the end of the civilized world.

The mother and father turned to look, then waved back. “Hello,” the mother replied. “Where are you headed?”

“Heading east, towards Palf Glen.”

“Business or pleasure?” the father said.

“Business,” Allabva replied. “I’m not entirely sure if I’ll end up near Palf Glen, or if I’ll wind up heading beyond it.” This was true. She didn’t know where her destination was, and she wasn’t certain how long Hronomon thought it would take her to walk to Palf Glen.

“Are you traveling all alone, a young woman on the road?” The mother asked.

“No. My escort is much faster than I am, though, and he likes to step off the trail. He veered off, going towards the south a while ago. I’m sure he can’t be too far. He actually may have gotten ahead of me.”

Allabva could see genuine concern in their faces relax a little when they heard that she had somebody, at least, ostensibly watching over her. Allabva didn’t slacken her pace during this conversation.

“And where are you going?” Allabva thought it would be polite to return the question, and she was curious as well.

“Parfall,” the mother answered. “It’s a lot closer than Palf Glen. We’re coming home from my sister’s wedding in Littonwelt, half a day southwest of here.”

“Congratulations to her.” Allabva didn’t have to force her smile. “Was it a good reception?”

“Fiewren was involved,” the father pointed at the mother, “so it was complicated.”

“Banduchy, stop it.” The woman hit him on the arm and laughed. “Honestly, what am I supposed to do with you? Soon enough, the boys will pick up making this kind of remark from you.” She looked at Allabva again, who was now walking backwards to continue the conversation, having passed by them. “Yes, it was very lovely, if I do say so myself.”

“It’s true, it was indeed lovely,” Banduchy conceded. “There was so much food, we had to take some with us. It was lucky that Amarkal insisted on bringing his little cart to carry travel supplies. But it was complicated.” He laughed as he blocked another blow.

“Are you in such a hurry?” Fiewren asked as the gap between them and Allabva widened.

“I suppose I kind of am.”

“Safe travels, then. Have a nice day!”

“You as well!” The conversation ended at an elevated volume, then Allabva turned around to walk forward, and pressed on. She pulled the flute out from under her shirt and kept playing.