Ta-Nomord

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At what Allabva thought was probably around nine-thirty in the morning, she thought she caught a glimpse of light and movement on the trail ahead.

“Hronomon, did you see?” she whispered.

Hronomon apparently had seen. He was already scrambling between a pair of large bushes on the south side of the trail. Allabva had forgotten to keep her eyes out for immediate hiding places, but she scrambled into the brush behind Hronomon. They both hunkered down to wait for the other traveler to pass.

Allabva looked out and saw their own tracks coming up the trail and disappearing into the brush at the side.

“Hronomon, our tracks.” Allabva barely mouthed the words, pointing at the disturbed earth they had left.

Hronomon looked at her and then shook his head, as if to say there’s nothing we can do about it now.

Allabva waited and practiced keeping her breath still and silent. Shortly, they heard the approaching party’s footsteps on the ground. The newcomer rounded a corner and Allabva could see her in full view. It was a Nomord.

Unsure of what to do, Allabva looked to Hronomon to see his response.

Upon seeing the Ta-Nomord coming down the trail, Hronomon immediately stood up and stepped out of the bushes.

“Come on, Allabva. It’s fine.”

When Allabva stepped out onto the road, the other Nomord held her head back in surprise, then moved her head from side to side to inspect Allabva through one eye, then the other.

“Why were you surprised when I came out?” Allabva asked the Nomord.

“Because she can’t see me,” Hronomon replied mournfully.

“Why not?” Allabva perplexed. “You’re right there, as plain as a hippopotamus in the desert.”

The Ta-Nomord came sniffing at Allabva.

Hronomon answered the question. “She and I are on opposite sides of the shield. The Gha-Nomord are on the inside, actively containing Sacalai, though the Shrongelin gets the brunt, far worse than the rest of us. This beautiful creature here is locked on the outside of the shield, repelled away from Sacalai’s influence and helping to balance the world away from it as well. As a consequence, her mind is not fully in this world. And…she cannot see me.” His voice belied more than a serious sentiment.

“Do you…do you know her?” Allabva asked.

“Yes,” Hronomon answered, his eyes distant. “She and I used to play together when I was a foal. She…”

“What’s her name?”

“I cannot remember. Duty calls, and I must let go.” His expression darkened and hardened.

“Not from here, you smell from down in the valley,” the Ta-Nomord said to Allabva.

Allabva’s eyes glistened with empathetic tears. “That is so tragic. You are separated, Ta-Nomord and Gha-Nomord, by your duty, by your service to…us.”

“What’s sad? You have dried apples!” said the Ta-Nomord, still oblivious to Hronomon’s presence.

“Give her some dried apples,” directed Hronomon.

“What? I need all my food for the journey.” She started to open the bag anyway.

“Buy me time. Give her some, but slowly.”

“You want some apples?” Allabva invited, complying.

The Ta-Nomord danced in anticipation. Allabva wondered at the prolonged attention the creature gave her, longer than she had seen a Ta-Nomord focus before.

Allabva dug out a single slice and held it out in her hand, opened flat.

“Tell her about your home,” Hronomon prompted, again without explanation.

“What’s your name? Did you know what? I grew this at home. I grew up on an orchard and my mother cultivates apples, and peaches, and cherries, and other wonderful fruit. We also keep a vegetable garden.”

“More about your family.”

Allabva pulled out another two dried apple slices. “My mother raised me, and now is raising my younger brother, Mellier. He can be mischievous sometimes, but mostly he’s just curious. I guess I can’t blame him for that.”

The mare nipped an apple slice off of Allabva’s palm.

“That’s sufficient,” Hronomon informed her. “Don’t give her any more of your food.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you. I think I need to be going now.” Allabva returned one slice to her bag.

The Ta-Nomord was already trotting down the trail, now resuming the flightiness for which her kind was known.

“What was that about?” Allabva quizzed Hronomon.

“A favor to you.”

“What favor?”

“It is of the Gha-Nomord to bear some modest amount of influence on minds. I was implanting an idea, nothing more. If it is something that would please her, and I believe it is, then she will take this idea and carry it out, never suspecting where it came from.”

“What idea?”

“It is of the Ta-Nomord to bear influence on the physical world. If I am correct about our visitor, she will now go seek out the home and family you just spoke of, and bring them a very successful growing season.”

“Is that really true? A good year for the orchard, just like that?” Allabva asked.

“Again, if it is something that she would already be inclined—”

“Thank you!” Allabva threw herself on Hronomon’s neck, giving him a tight hug. Then, standing straight again, she remembered that they were supposed to be silent until they knew they had more space. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Hronomon simply nodded understanding, gestured up the trail with his head, and resumed walking as if nothing had happened. Allabva continued walking as well, keeping pace beside Hronomon.

As the pair marched on, Allabva snacked on the provisions she had brought. As the day warmed up, she first lowered her hood, and then doffed her cloak entirely when it became too uncomfortable. Now she carried it draped over her shoulder, opposite hand hooked on the hood to keep the cloak from falling. She also drank water as she felt necessary, removing the cap to drink, putting the bag to her lips, pulling it away again and replacing the cap, all without breaking stride on the trail. It was unavoidable, but in the late morning her waterskin was empty.

“I’m going to need to refill my waterskin,” she informed Hronomon, whispering.

“Very well. But as we travel, you should try to find a way to make the need less frequent. We cannot stop so often.”

Lower down in the canyon, closer to the valley, refilling her water would have been easy to accomplish. Here, closer to where the canyon would open up and give way to grasslands, the trail no longer ran alongside the creek. In fact, there wasn’t much creek yet at this height, since rainwater runoff did not gather in a central stream until further downhill, far to the backs of Allabva and Hronomon.

Eventually, they found a small stream with a quiet trickle of a waterfall. Allabva filled her skin.

“Drink it all right now, and refill your bag,” Hronomon instructed.

“But I’m not that thirsty right now.”

“You will be later. Perhaps you should even drink and refill twice before we go on. It will reduce the number of stops we must make. Also, as we leave the canyon, we may not find so convenient a stream and standing water is not as safe for you to drink.”

Allabva saw the wisdom in this and drank all from the waterskin, refilling it again twice. Once she had filled it the third time, she capped it and they continued walking again.

Finally, as the sun stood high overhead, Allabva and Hronomon crested the canyon entrance and looked out over the high prairie, broken behind them by Ash Canyon and others, but smooth and unending ahead.

“Now we can see for miles ahead and we can see that nobody is approaching.” Hronomon observed, his voice normal rather than whispering. “Did you have any questions to continue your history lesson?”

“Not right now,” Allabva breathed. “I always loved the hills in the valley, but the prairie view is also breathtaking when it is fresh.”

“It is all the same: monotonous. Don’t misunderstand me, it looks delicious.” That wasn’t the word Allabva would have used to describe the view. “This prairie has quite the variety of grasses. I will have no lack of food while we cross it. But once you have seen a patch of it, you may as well have seen the entire landscape.”

Allabva nodded. “It’s true. This patch doesn’t look any different from that patch, but I love the vastness of it. An ocean of waving grass with the occasional island of trees, underneath the sky so large you almost feel nervous you’re about to fall up into it.”

Wordlessly, the young woman and her equine escort continue to walk. Midday surrendered to afternoon while they watched hawks and falcons hover and circle overhead in search of prey. At one point, Allabva saw a mass of cloven hoofprints imprinted across the path, betraying the passage of the plains bison.

Though it was still chilly, being springtime, Allabva didn’t feel the cold due to the effort of walking so far. On the contrary, she did feel the sun’s effect on her face. She draped the cloak loosely back over herself, using the hood to block the sun. At least she wouldn’t have to keep the cloak on very long, since the sun was now slowly falling to their rear and her hair would serve to protect her neck.

Her biggest ail then, was her feet. Hronomon began to notice her gait had changed slightly. “You humans. Your socks and your boots. It’s overly complicated. Why can’t you just have hooves like a sensible creature?”

“Was that a joke? From a somber Gha-Nomord?” Allabva poked.

Hronomon didn’t acknowledge the question. “What do you need to do so you can keep walking? I hope you realize I am no horse. I will not carry you, nor does our mission allow that possibility.”

“Let me just change my socks.”

Allabva cast her eyes about and found a low rock. She seated herself and pulled her boots off.

“I should give you some credit, even though you’re soft footed. Among your hoofless kind, your ability to continue walking is at least halfway decent.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t be too surprised, though. You are young, after all, your body working quite well still, not so aged as your mother.”

“You think my mother is old?”

“She is older than you.”

“But that doesn’t mean she should be called old. Haven’t you seen other humans?”

“Of course, I have.”

“Don’t you think some of them looked far older than she does?”

“I suppose so. I’m not very much used to thinking about how to tell humans apart from each other.”

Allabva shook her head in amusement. “My mother is older than I am, but she’s not old yet. I’m not even sure she qualifies as middle-aged.”

Allabva finished pulling her boots back on and stood, holding her old socks in her hand to let the sweat on them dry so they could be used again when her new socks were no longer fresh. She resumed walking and Hronomon continued by her side.

Something Hronomon had said hung in the back of Allabva’s mind. Since it wasn’t going anywhere, she gave it voice. “I’m fine walking, but why did you say specifically that our mission ‘doesn’t allow the possibility’ of you carrying me? Is that just some way to prevent me from even asking to be carried?”

“No,” Hronomon answered.

“I see you’re back to your somber self. You didn’t answer my question, by the way.”

“You are correct.” Hronomon inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I warned you and your mother that this journey would not be easy. While there is no requirement that it be difficult, per se, you must travel under your own power to meet the Shrongelin.”

“Does that figure into part of the magic somehow?”

“You are beginning to catch on, I see. It does, indeed. The Shrongelin needs to form a bond with a human. This human must be of pure intent and desire—I spoke of your kindness as being a requirement—but you must also be untouched by magic prior to the forging of this bond. Furthermore, you have to come to it willingly, giving your own efforts. If I were to carry you, it would stunt the potency of the bond, and neither you nor the Shrongelin would be as mighty as you could be otherwise.”

“I see. And what’s this talking about me being mighty? I will be changed by the bond?”

“You will not be altered in mind, spirit, or appearance. You will, however, gain in physical strength, endurance, and stamina beyond the capacity of any natural human once the bond is active. Additionally, you will be able to tap into the Gha-Nomord magic of influence upon minds. Hopefully, it will be enough.”

“If I’m supposed to gain such great strength, does that mean that once I meet the Shrongelin and we forge the bond, that I will be safe? That the danger in this journey lasts until then?”

“Far from it. When you forge that bond, you and he will become a beacon, bringing targeted attacks. You will be very capable of defending yourselves against those attacks, but while you wield that strength, Sacalai and her forces will be able to seek you out and will attempt at every opportunity to head you off and prevent you from fulfilling your mission. You will need to hide the bond.”

“How do we do that?”

“I can only say that the Shrongelin will know. I myself do not know. Not only does our mission require that I not bond you on our journey to meet the Shrongelin, but I cannot do so, for I have forgotten how.”

“So, you can’t even bond somebody else to gain the benefit of that strength on our journey?”

“No, I cannot. It is beyond me, perhaps for the better. The bond is not commonly performed since the days of the Sacalai cycle began. Perhaps if I were to forge a bond, it could be detected somehow. As things are, the only thing that may mark us as a priority target for the enemy is the fact that Nomord and human are traveling together.”

“Why did you forget how to bond? I thought that was in the nature of the Gha-Nomord.”

“It is. I forgot when I became Hronomon, the forerunner.”

“When you became Hronomon.” Allabva repeated his phrase, pondering. “You were not always Hronomon?”

“No. I became Hronomon when the Shrongelin became Shrongelin.”

“That’s what I had understood. So you mean when Sacalai was imprisoned, the Shrongelin became Shrongelin, and you became Hronomon in order to imprison her.”

“No. The Shrongelin became Shrongelin once Sacalai was last re-imprisoned, and I became Hronomon at that time as well.”

“I’m afraid I’m not really following,” Allabva admitted.

Hronomon looked at her and blinked in impatience. “I became Hronomon when the Shrongelin stopped being Hronomon.”

“What? He was you?”

“It is a cycle, which I alluded to before. Sacalai grows restless and must be re imprisoned. The Shrongelin, who has been maintaining the prison all this time, bonds a Companion and the two forge the shield anew. While the Shrongelin maintains the inner shield, bearing the brunt of Sacalai’s evil, Hronomon maintains the outer shield, keeping the world away from the prison. Hronomon also aids the Shrongelin to find the best Companion to ensure the prison is rebuilt at its highest integrity.”

“But what do you mean that the Shrongelin stopped being Hronomon? Wasn’t he always the Shrongelin? Isn’t that…” she hesitated. “…his name?”

“It is a cycle,” Hronomon repeated. “Forging the prison anew requires all the Shrongelin can give. His magic is spent in the making and he is left with none remaining. Hronomon becomes the new Shrongelin and maintains the shield. Another Gha-Nomord steps forward and becomes the new Hronomon. The Shrongelin is Guardian, as I am the Forerunner. That is sufficient naming for both of us.”

“What happens to me when the Shrongelin’s magic is spent?” Allabva wondered aloud.

“The bond fades. You go back to being a normal human.”

“So if we survive, it is possible that I could go back home?” Allabva asked hopefully.

“Yes, it is possible. I cannot say how feasible or how much you will desire it at that time, but it is a possibility.”

This lifted Allabva’s spirits. She stood up straighter and it felt easier to keep pace with Hronomon, now that she had a specifically articulated prospect of returning home again.

“How long does it take for, you know, for the old Shrongelin to regain his magic after he renews Sacalai’s prison?” Allabva asked tentatively.

Hronomon let the question hang in the air, walking in silence, taking in the endless waves of grass. At length he answered.

“He does not.”

Allabva blinked, processing this, considering the implications. “So that’s why there has to be a new Shrongelin.”

Hronomon gave no response.

“And a new Hronomon, too,” Allabva mulled. She felt that he was still withholding something. “Does it…does losing all his magic kill the Shrongelin?”

“No, though it might as well. He survives the resealing, though his magic is spent in the process. He becomes a husk, no longer a true Nomord.”

“Oh.”

This dampened Allabva’s spirits. She walked in silence, snacking on her provisions as she needed and hoping that Hronomon wasn’t forced to dwell on the subject because of her questions. It seemed to be most likely the best thing at the moment for her to just walk in silence.

The afternoon waned on and Allabva’s water ran low again. Thinking of needing to refill her waterskin made her wonder if they might find a well. “Are there any towns along this road? We took a fork back in midmorning at that stand of trees, and I’m not familiar with this route. Will we find a well somewhere?”

“Perhaps. A well, or some other water, we will find.” His mood seemed less serious now, perhaps lightened by the fact that they had covered some good ground today.

“Have you not traveled this road before?”

“No, but I have seen both ends of it. I took this road to avoid meeting other travelers. You’ll see that it is not well maintained because it is not heavily used. So far, we have successfully not met other travelers on this route.”

“So you don’t know where water is.”

“No, I do not. But I know how you humans are, so I would be surprised not to find some viable water source.”

That seemed to make sense to Allabva. “But how soon would that be?” Hopefully it would not be too long before they encountered some.

Hronomon gave no answer, so Allabva simply walked along beside him.