Chapter 27: Ahni
Dal had been alive long enough by this point to recognize idiots when he saw them. That wasn't to say he himself was some kind of genius, of course. The God above knew he had his own fair share of inadequacies, as did all people. But it seemed to be the case that some men were especially stupid, and in particular, they very often tended to be overly violent, with emotions as shallow as a puddle.
Take Volorn and Grolm, for example.
Following Dal's stunt with the patrol guards, the two had seemingly had an entire change in perspective with regards to Dal, and it truly highlighted the sheer unstable nature of what it was like to deal with men like this. Because from all appearances, they were now acting as though it was actually possible for the three of them to be friends.
Having become convinced that Dal would not try to escape, he was no longer bound and shackled. He was also no longer struck or beaten, either, and with increasing frequency, Volorn included him in conversations, to which Dal played along. And in one of these conversations, such as the one taking place right now, he did almost everything he could to remind Dal of how strange marauders tended to be when it came to their views and behavior.
"…which is why, and I'm just gonna be straight with you here, Dal, I think it's about even."
"You do?" Dal asked, forcing a slightly curious but mostly neutral expression on his face. With all his strength, he shoved down the rage.
"I do." The man sighed as the moonlight cast a glow over his middle-aged, scarred face. "You killed my brother, and I hate that, but I killed that boy you seemed to care about and that girl at the village pub." He shrugged. "But shit happens, right? That's how the world is, so uh, I think we should just call it even. I mean, you spilled blood, I spilled blood—it's a wash."
It's not even close to a wash, Dal thought. You murdered a child and raped a woman over the death of a scumbag!
"He's right," Grolm added. "And you know, neither of us can speak for Boss, but if we put in a good word and tell the others how you handled those guards, I think there's a real good shot you could join us."
"But I'm a Goat Castration Specialist."
"Yeah, for now. But we know that can change. Don't understand how, but…all I'm saying is you clearly have what it takes. I've never seen a kid your age with balls like that."
Dal made a slight smile, which he hoped to convey that he was thinking it over and perhaps even slightly leaning in their direction, but he also knew to keep it noncommittal and not overly eager. Inside, however, he felt only revulsion and anger—and amazement, too. For the way in which these thugs behaved was so unnatural to him that he found it to be simultaneously fascinating and disturbing all at once.
Dal had told these men he was going to kill them. What's more, these men knew he had an curse they couldn't understand—one that could potentially lead to their demise at any moment for as far as they were aware. And yet, rather than fear him, they were taking a liking to him; this, despite Dal having apparently slain Volorn's brother.
He could never truly understand why marauders tended to behave like this.
If someone had killed Dal's brother, he'd go the rest of his life hating the man for it. He'd never be able to forgive him no matter how hard he tried. And this, Dal could say with absolute certainty, because such a thing had actually happened, and forgiveness had not been on the table then and wouldn't be now or any day ever.
Mason, he thought, nearly losing his composure as a pain flared in his chest.
Thankfully, he was taken from his thoughts as he noticed a light approaching in the distance—many lights, actually. It confused him. "Is that Heaven's End?" he asked curiously.
"Sure is," Volorn said, surprising Dal.
The marauder then leaned forward in his seat and gently tapped his fist against Dal's chest. "Grolm and I figure since we can trust you now, we don't gotta camp in some mosquito-ridden patch of dirt off the side of the road. It's gonna rain tonight, too. Wind's picking up something fierce."
"I see…"
Having been invited to sit up front in the enclosed carriage with the two of them, he'd spent most of the day in a far greater state of comfort than what he'd experienced at the start. And now that night had fallen, stinging and biting insects known to be common to the easternmost reaches of Ostros were out and about, looking for anyone or anything they could bother.
I can't believe they're bringing me to Heaven's End.
Heaven's End was a big village that was almost large enough to be called a small town—a threshold it may well have already passed despite lacking the official designation, which was typically the point at which it would be drawn on maps of the world. It was also a place considered the "point of no return," as once one traveled beyond, they were officially in the region of the Hell Mountains, and from there, it was truly a no man's land.
"You up for some beer and some women tonight, Dal?" Grolm asked.
Dal forced a smile. "Of course."
Though ostensibly under the control of Ostros, the fact that it could reside so close to the Hell's Pass and remain unharmed, prosperous, and orderly strongly suggested its true rulers were people of a less noble origin. Almost without a doubt, the marauders were secretly in control of the town. Even back when Dal was in his mid-twenties about two decades ago, the then-town was speculated to be comprised primarily of the family members of marauders who had not been able to achieve a Battle Class either by training their way up from Farmer or by happening to be assigned one. Thus, the Hell Mountains were too dangerous for them to reside in.
It's gotten bigger since I was last here, he thought.
The sound of the carriage and its attached cart became more pronounced as the terrain beneath their feet turned from dirt to wood while the horses took them over a drawbridge lit on both sides by torches. Though it was early in the night, not a trace of the sun still lingered, and so it was good to be back in an area with some light.
"Who's coming?" a voice called to them in the same moment that the rain began to pour down over the world.
"It's me, you blind fuck."
"Volorn?"
"Yeah."
"Ahh, come on in." The voice paused. "Grolm's with you?"
"Yup."
"And who's that other guy?"
"None of your fucking business. Let us in!"
"Yeah, yeah."
Several armed figured that were blocking off an entrance stepped to the side, and the horses resumed at a walk. A few minutes later, Dal departed the carriage and stepped onto the mud with Volorn and Grolm as a lightning bolt flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating their faces as well as the face of a stable hand taking shelter under a canopy in front of them.
"You three leaving or going into the pass?" he asked, the question confusing Dal. He had to shout to be heard amid the howling winds and the patter of the thunderous downpour, which in a matter of seconds, drenched Dal from head to toe.
"We're going!" Volorn shouted over the thunder. "We're done with the horses. Heading in to see Boss tomorrow morning"
"Okay, got'cha. Do the horses need to rest or can we put them back into service?"
"I don't give a shit," Volorn said, barking out a laugh.
"Don't be an asshole, Volorn. Just answer the question."
"Let the little bastards rest."
"All right. Also, be careful when you leave tomorrow morning. The ogres have been stepping up their attacks lately."
Grolm spat on the dirt. "Fucking hate ogres."
Volorn, the guy who had sworn vengeance against Dal, put his arm around his shoulder and said, "Come on, kid. I'll take you to the best damn pub you ever drank at."
And to be fair, he didn't end up being all that far off.
As Dal was led into a better-lit section of the village—town, now?—they quickly made their way into a large, wide, three-story tavern that looked newly renovated, at least from the outside. The structure was made of brick as opposed to wood like the surrounding buildings, and the smell of it on the inside was admittedly wonderful, with seasoned meat, potatoes, and ale wafting through the air and over the sparkly clean flooring.
Marauders are doing well for themselves during the war, Dal thought as he stepped inside.
A moment later, he found himself sitting by himself on one side of a booth across from Volorn and Grolm as two barmaids approached with beer and plates stacked with still-smoking pork and freshly baked chips, which she placed down on the table the three were sharing. Overwhelmed with hunger, Dal tore into the food, and this seemed to bring nods of approval from his captors, who must've taken it as a sign that they were winning him over.
"This life suits you, Dal," Volorn said in between bites. "And trust me, I know Boss well enough to know she'll give ya a break for what you did if we put in a good word." He wiped his lips. "Now, don't get me wrong, there'll probably be a lashing or two, but nothing worse than what I've already given you. You'll be fine. Afterwards, I'm willing to bet she'll brand and hire you."
"She?" Dal asked curiously.
Grolm released a hearty laugh. "Now, I know what you're thinking, but trust me, she's got bigger balls than any man you've ever met."
"It's not that," Dal replied. "It's just I find it hard to believe marauders would take orders from a woman. Never struck me as the type."
"Well, I wasn't too happy with it either after she killed the last boss. But Boss is good to us. Once you meet Ahni, you'll see for yourself that she—"
Dal coughed, spit out his pork, coughed some more, and for a moment struggled to breathe as it felt like an explosion had just taken place in his chest. "The hell's wrong with you, kid? Eat too fast?"
Dal waved his hand to indicate he was okay as he wiped his mouth. Then, urgency flooding into him, he asked, "What did you say her name was?"
"Ahni," Volorn replied.
It can't be! It's a common name. It cannot be.
"Does…does she happen to have purple eyes, short black hair, and a scar running across her jaw?"
Volorn gasped, and so too did Grolm. "You know her?" Volorn asked.
Dal froze. He was forced to take a moment and steady himself as the mere thought of Ahni caused her voice to fill his head.
"Dal!" the sweet little girl's voice said cheerfully in his mind. "Can you buy me something from Freewind?"
"Of course I can, Ahni. But I won't be home for a few months"
"I'll wait!"
…
…
No!
NO!
Dal trembled. "It must be a coincidence," he said to the two of them.
"But you described her perfectly," Grolm replied. "And I ain't never seen someone with purple eyes before. Aside from her, I mean."
He shook his head. "No, the girl I knew, she'd…she'd be in her early thirties now, and she'd likely have ended up making it to Dragon Knight with her potential."
Once again, Volorn and Grolm inhaled sharply. They lowered their voices. "How do you know her? And you should never say that aloud. Her class is a secret we can't have Ostros knowing about."
Dal tensed. He refused to believe what he was hearing. It simply could not be true. It could not be!
Ahni. She cannot be alive.
He could hear her again. Older, now. Fifteen years old. She'd tracked him down. After all these years, she'd found him. "Monster!" she'd screamed. "Die!"
Dal felt like he was falling despite remaining seated. Regret and pain caused an ache in his chest that seemed to be worsening. "I know her," he said.
"How's a kid like you know someone like Ahni? My mind is blown."
Dal didn't respond.
He couldn't.