Estimated reading time: 32 minute(s)

4

Chapter summary: Kurt Eklund remembered his recurring nightmares.


Lann tried hard to keep his face straight. He was a warrior who had honor and standards, a soldier who understood the necessity of following the rules and respecting hierarchy – And also no offense meant, Desna, but –

“Forgive me Commander but this is hilarious -” He couldn’t help to laughing at the sight of the Commander: a strong build, stern face Oread was surrounded by little shiny green and azure butterflies. Not to mention that by his feet, a little havoc dragon was actively attempting to steal the last bit of skullberry pie from his pocket.

Back on the citadel, everyone were busy at not ending up at the wrong side of blades, sticks, arrows, canons etc, so they were only capable of feeling relieved when Elysium decided to lend a helping hand to the Commander. However, now daylight came with Drezen fully back at Crusaders’ side, they finally got to take a good look at the Commander.

“Desna certainly had her wicked way with you.” Anevia grinned. “I admit this is probably more subtle than a halo around your head – “ Aivu was just rushing to the other side of room with skullberry pie in her mouth, knocking over several pieces of furniture at the same time. “Ha, maybe not that subtle.”

Kurt Eklund shrugged. He did not tell them that back on the citadel, he had actually been offered a choice of sort in his mind … between a thief mask, a angel halo, a demon horn, and a bunch of butterflies. Since the crew could use some laugh after the gruesome battle, if it had to be at his expanse, so be it. Besides, he would not choose otherwise.

Yes, his childhood dwarven friends would say, Kurt, we know that all along. You Oreads are just by nature impulsive and adventurous creatures. We barely could put up with you. Besides, with a retired demonslayer human mum like that, no wonder you somehow ended up in the middle of the biggest trouble in this century. These dwarven friends seemed to be several lifetimes ago. He later learnt that Oreads were not exactly what other species other than dwarfs had in mind for travelers and adventurers, but old habits died hard on stone.

Also, he had not exactly been a good position to make a wise career choice back then.

Kurt Eklund remembered his recurring nightmares. Forgetting was a blessing he had seldom been graced upon, and what had plagued his mind for all those years only got worse to the point that he ended up nearly dead at the front gate of Kenabras.

(He had wished that the nightmares could finish him off. Had it not been Terendelev, they would have succeeded.)

Maybe because he gradually understood more what it was like to be his mother, Äiden the fiery demonslayer. His mother took up her profession back when the Worldwound was freshly opened, and had her fair share of slaying demons and other adventures. She later recounted some of them to Kurt by the fireplace of the family old house (she had to sanitize a lot on his father’s insist), and always managed to end those stories with the bit that the quick-wit and brave protagonist, not only managed to defeat the monsters, to protect others, to be paid well, but also to have a happy life ever after. Ever after. Ever to the point where she could leisurely retire and grow old in peace.

“When you grow up, you will know the last bit is just as important as the first bits.” Äiden told him that when Kurt started to yawn.

She also told him that nothing was certain for an adventurer, so was the family cooking schedule. It earned an alarmed look from Frode, his father, but the couple soon just grinned at each other. Kurt was not worried about dinner then because he had his eyes on the baked apples in the fireplace. They slowly wrinkled, oozing out a sweet, delightful aroma.

(He had wished she never said any of those things, but then, saying or not, the incident happened anyway.)

Kurt Eklund remembered his recurring nightmares.

The lukewarm blood was dripping from his hands. Acidic, stinking vomits were mixing together with blood and guts. He did not remember how Äiden died, but he remembered how Frode and he disentangled, savaged her corpse from the gores beneath his feet, first with shovels, then with hands, on an over washed white bedsheet. Frode refused to call for help. Frode refused to talk to him.

They burnt Äiden, or whatever left of her near the family orchard. The smoke pillar from the pyre rose all the way up to clear, blue sky. On their way back to the house, despite the lingering tang of smokes, he could still catch the delightful fragrance from apple blossoms in cold crispy air. White and pink petals fell on their heads, shoulders, eventually were crushed into black soil under their feet. His father wanted to burn the house too, but sorrow drained him. By the time when apples started to rot on the ground, they moved to a larger settlement on an island, far away from the mountain range. Frode soon again became a well respected apothecary in their new neighborhood, but Kurt knew his father never managed to leave that house.

And he never forgave Kurt, for what he believed Kurt had done, and for what Kurt actually did. Frode tried his best, but just as love, loath would also find its way out: If it could not get out from mouth, it would seep out from eyes. Sometimes it was hard to tell the loath was for Kurt or himself. Frode must have regretted that day he was out to take care of someone else’s dying loved ones.

“You don’t remember anything at all?” Frode asked him when Kurt was packing in the living room.

Kurt did not answer at first. His eyes were fixed on an empty rack on the wall. Frode followed his gaze. Äiden’s old weapon had been there. One last memorabilia from her previous life. A greatsword only she could wield. Reliable, strong but essentially a manipulative bastard, she used to say to Kurt and Frode, if it whispered anything funny to you at night, just go to bed and ignore it.

It did not save her.

In fact, Frode was standing right at the place where the demon revealed itself. Years later, Kurt learned his demonology, it was a vavakia, but back then it was the pure fear and horror. His mind screamed at him to run for his life, but his body simply froze. Yet, a strange sensation was burning through his body, as something opened its eyes within him, and sensed the world through his body for the first time.

Äiden dodged the first attack from the monstrous sized halberd of the vavakia. She ran to her greatsword, but before her hand touched the slit, an arrow pierced through her reaching hand. “Run!” Between the rising tides of rage in his mind, he heard Äiden screaming.

“I mean … do you remember … “Frode swallowed hard, ”… how did she die?”

This must be hard for him. Kurt thought. It must be hard for him.

At that moment, Kurt heard the sound of beating wings. Not from the rampaging vavakia, it was right behind him. Another arrow. This time it shot her back.

Then the vavakia’s halberd followed. Äiden try to dodge it again, but the pain hindered her movement. The halberd pierced through her shoulder. Her blood splattered a high arc on the wall. Äiden curled up against the wall, and her grip on the greatsword soon went limp. She suddenly looked so small, but she did not die, not yet. She coughed, then whispered something to the blade. “… time to prove yourself.”

Meanwhile, Kurt was staring at her. It felt utterly surreal that someone could do this to Äiden. Yet, she laid there, dying. He rushed to her side. Burn them. Kill them. All I need is your word. Kurt did not know where this rage came from, but if it could save her – the third arrow was sent flying –

His sight darkened. The tide of rage finally engulfed him.

The first sense coming back to him was the touch. The lukewarm blood was dripping from his hands. Acidic, stinking vomits were mixing together with blood and guts.

“This experiment certainly yielded more result than I expected.” A new female voice came from his back. “Demonic rage and Gorum’s power? An interesting combination.” Again, that beating of leathery wings. He turned, but there was nothing there.

“Her greatsword was broken and discarded at her side.” Frode stared at him. Kurt could still smelled ashes from him. “But when I found you, you were holding that helbard. Can’t you remember anything? Anything?”

There had been someone else before Frode came to him. A winged humanoid creature appeared in front of him. They had a pale, neutral face with a shepherd crook in their hands. They lift something from Äiden’s broken greatsword with the crook, and seemed to be quite satisfied.

“Her Grey Lady will be pleased.” They sighed to the tip of their crook. “Come on, no use to struggle with me. Consider these years as your extra.“

Kurt Eklund blinked. The blood coats on his eye lids cracked. “Are you … are you here for mother? or for me?”

The humanoid creature slightly turned their head, as if they just noticed Kurt for the first time. They looked the young oread for a moment. Kurt stared back. Their wings folded neatly behind their back. Then, they spoke. Their tone was slow and patient like carrion birds waiting for lions to finish their kills first.

“Most livings will just turn away.” They said, not unkindly. “No. I did not come for you, child of Stone. The Grey Lady will not come for you when you are prepared. We may meet again, but for now, farewell.”

“No.” He said to his poor father,“I don’t remember anything at all.” Somehow he was still holding that halberd, its tip clean, sharp, tempting.

“Very helpful information indeed.” It took him a moment to register Lann’s voice. The mongrel was looking down at him. It took him another moment to realize he was lying in his chamber room in Drezen citadel.

“I’ll skip the nonsense. If you are keeping doing this to yourself, we will soon need a new Commander.” Lann threw him a steaming hot towel. “Take it. Help with the bruises.”

“It’s just a nightmare.” Kurt grunted, applied the towel to his neck unceremoniously. He streched his legs under the layers of the blankets. The softness of fabrics still surprised him those days, not the same could be said about his nightmares. Not much he hadn’t seen.

“You said the same thing the last time.” Lann said, “Normally I would not care what people do in their tents or bedrooms, but now you have responsibilities to bear, other people to look after, and promises to keep, Commander.”

“You make it sound like I am Count Arendae.“ Kurt huffed half-heartly.

“Nice try to distract me. I hate to point out, but you are even worse – in his most ridiculous fiasco, Count Arendae still remembered to hire bodyguards to save his pretty neck.”

“Only to be killed later. “Kurt Eklund shook his head. “This cannot be solved by bodyguards.” Kurt shuddered at the mere idea of having someone watching while he was asleep. “I always wake up in time. Beawulf could help, too.” The bulwark wolf yelped and sit at his bedside.

Lann did not look impressed. “Keep telling that to yourself. Apparently your animal companions could not do much to wake you up without clawing your face off. It was Beowulf and Aivu came to me, Commander. I simply could not let the matter go. Don’t healers here have any potions to help you with it?”

Kurt shook his head. He changed the towel to the other side.

“You smells like really nasty nightmares.“ Aivu said, then jumped on Kurt’s bed. The Oread suppressed a grimace, and stared down at the havoc dragon. Her innocent eyes only sent back relentless optimism.

“I told you I have some nice little surprises waiting for you just outside of city, didn’t I? Why don’t you just come?”

“It may also be a trap.” Lann said, only half-jokingly, “why would we trust you are not luring the Commander into some demonic trap?”

“Me? Demons?” The little dragon seemed to be quite offended, “There’re no fun to be demons! They are so stinky and mean! Why would I want to be a demon?” She purred out a few more intangible notes to Lann, until the mongrel had to cover his ears. Satisfied, Aivu turned to Kurt, “Desna, you know, the goddess with shiny big wings and makes a lot of wonderful dreams, she may help you. Can’t spoil much fun though! It’s really not that far! Just go!”

TBC