We walked carefully toward the frozen Atheryte, weapons drawn. Artoirel gestured for me to go left, while he and Clément moved to the right. Okay…I’m going alone on the left.
As soon as I cleared the Atheryte several wolves and a few zombie-looking knights attacked. I felt a surge of power as I pulled my claymore and began whirling and whacking away at all of the mobs. There were seven of them, and only one of me, and I intended to be the one to walk away.
I thought Clément and Artoirel would have come to help—at least Clément, since he was the Count’s assigned guard. But there was no one.
On about the third enemy, my wrist popped and I yelled out. It hurt worse than ever, but I couldn’t think about that at the moment. I had to survive this. I wasn’t going to have survived torture and death to be killed in some deserted outpost in Coerthas. So I called up that anger, that fury Fray spoke about, the dark presence that I’d touched while fighting the Temple Knights in Ishgard.
Before I knew it, everything was dead. I stood there, breathing heavily, my wrist throbbing, my claymore leaning against my left hand, surrounded by dead things.
No…not everyone was dead. There was a living Knight with me, but he was wounded. Where did he come from? Was he there the whole time, and I missed him? I was shocked that I hadn’t killed him along with everything else.
I hoped I hadn’t been the one to wound him when Clément and Artoirel came up. Clément was limping, and I felt a slight satisfaction that my keeper hadn’t fared better fighting whatever it was he and Artoirel had gone after.
“Are you all right? I heard the sounds of a struggle,” Artoirel said as they neared.
A ‘struggle’? I blinked at him, then looked at the seven corpses surrounding me. What kind of question was that?
The Knight who was with me, who I assumed was one of the reconnaissance party knights, spoke. “Thank…thank the Fury…I thought no one would come…”
But Artoirel was actually looking at the bodies. “Three heretics slain, and four wolves with one knight saved, just like that. You certainly live up to your reputation, Master Grey.” He turned his attention to the knight while I slowly set my claymore at my back and rubbed at my wrist. It was getting stiff. “What happened here, ser? Is there no one else?”
The man, half kneeling and breathing heavily, spoke. “We were caught in a furious blizzard north of here, my lord. <cough> <wheeze> Naught but white all around…until we saw shapes moving towards us—running towards us, with naked steel in their hands. I cut down a few of the bastards who came close, but the others… There was shouting and screaming, but after a while I could only hear unfamiliar voices…I found my way to the camp, hoping to hide while the storm passed.”
Artoirel said, “But the heretics tracked you here.”
“Aye… <cough><cough>… My lord, the heretics’ hideaway lies somewhere to the north. We must move quickly, before the snow buries all traces of their passing. For my brothers, we…we must… <cough><wheeze>”
“Have faith, ser. Justice will be done. But first, we must see you to safety.” Artoirel looked at me. “He has the right of it, Master Grey. Whatever remains of the heretics’ trail will be gone with the next snowfall. But we cannot very well leave our friend here…
“I will see him to Falcons’ Nest and gather reinforcements. In the meantime, I would have you search the area to the north of the camp for signs of the attack. Should you pick up the heretics’ trail, do not wait for me—follow it back to their lair forthwith, being sure to leave me some clear footprints.
“…I realize this plan may place you in considerable danger, but I see no alternative.”
I continued staring at him. I’m in danger, but he can’t see another way to do this? Why not leave these two here with a fire, and we go together and find these heretics? Instead, send me, the troublemaker, after the crazy bad guys.
I nodded but said little else.
Artoirel was already gathering up Clément and the other Knight. “Rest assured we will not be far behind. And Asche…thank you.”
Sure.
I watched them walk and hobble down the path that led under the bridge. I sighed and turned toward the north, looking at the cliff to the land beyond. How was I supposed to find anything in this? I was not accustomed to snow.
I eventually found a way down and then carefully walked over the frozen river…lake…pond…whatever that was. On the far shore, I quickly picked up footprints and followed them over several snowbanks, as well as tiers of rocks.
Eventually, I came to the body of a deceased soldier. From his uniform, I could tell he was part of the reconnaissance group that had not made it. Something or someone had killed him here.
I did come up a hill eventually, my throat aching from breathing in the cold, frigid air, and found a set of buildings. From the outside, I couldn’t tell if they were inhabited, but they would make the perfect hideout for heretics.
I checked the closest two, and when I found nothing, I moved to the one with the fence around it, set back a bit from the others. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, so I clenched my teeth and pulled my claymore as I stepped inside. There were empty rooms on the left and a stairway ahead of me.
My heart pounding in my chest, I moved forward, my blade as my shield, and carefully descended two short flights of steps. But as I came into view of a room to my right, a dozen knights appeared, each with crazy looking expressions and drawn weapons. Behind them, further into the room, was…was that an altar?
They charged me, and I started swinging. My wrist screamed at me, but I cut down about three at once and then two more. But I hadn’t touched the sorcerer yet. I used my claymore to block his shots of fire and then ice. Once he was the last one standing, I ran away from him and his magic to the altar. He laughed. I smiled. I jumped on the altar, then jumped to the edge of a nearby pillar, and with my blade over my head, brought it and my anger down on top of the bastard’s head.
I landed and winced at the lancing pain in my left wrist. I nearly dropped my weapon when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up again, and I managed to parry an attack from someone I hadn’t noticed before.
Too late, I realized who it was and wasn’t totally prepared for her attack.
She body checked me, and I spun just as she undercut me by bending low, manifested an ice-sword, and popped my claymore out of my hand.
I backed up, ready to fight with bare hands if I needed to, but tripped over the body of one of the fallen heretics. And before I knew it, she was on top of me and had the ice sword at my throat.
“Looking for me, I presume?” she said in a very calm voice.
I opened my mouth to answer that I had not been looking for her, but stopped when she pressed the point into my throat.
“Well, now that I have you, Warrior of Light, what will I do with you? Rumor reached me you were dead, killed after you murdered the Sultana. But…since your death was a lie, I should assume you're being a regicidal maniac was also a lie.”
I wanted to say something, but I felt an all too familiar change in the air, and felt Midgardsormr’s presence before I heard his deep, commanding voice.
“Ahhh, the child who glimpsed the truth.”
Iceheart’s expression changed, became almost reverent. Wait… she was looking at the little dragon! She could see him.
“No…this cannot be!” she breathed, but kept the blade at my neck.
“He cameth unto me, as didst thou.”
“Alike in gifts but set upon different paths. I would see him unharmed, for he bears wounds as deep as your own, scars of betrayal and sacrifice. You are kindred.”
I watched as she got off of me, and the sword vanished. With a lingering look on Midgardsormr, Iceheart reached down and offered her hand. I took it and managed to stand, and we faced each other in front of the crazy altar.
She spoke first. “He speaks true, Warrior of Light. Like you, I have been blessed with the Echo. The visions terrified me at first. They came without warning, I wondered what I had done to deserve them… But I had no time to ponder such things once the Calamity came.
“The land turned against us, and in a matter of hours, Falcon’s Nest was buried under ten fulms of snow. We had no choice but to flee to Ishgard. We came to the wall, and while we searched for a way through, there was an avalanche. And then I was alone.
“So, I set forth for Dravania. I knew full well what might happen were I found, but I could not survive on my own. I was found, of course—and not by a mere dragon, but the great wyrm Hraesvelgr!”
I stood listening to her as she told me who she was—so much more than our first meeting in Snow Cloak. But why was she telling me this? And I wasn’t sure I agreed with that old dragon.
She and I? Kindred?
Unlikely.
“And it was then that I knew why I had been given this gift, for with it I heard his voice, and saw the truth through his eyes! I was chosen to deliver this revelation to the people—to bring dragon and man together, as they once were, and should ever be!”
I glared at her. I wasn’t going to just go along with that crazy nonsense. “What of the innocents who died when you attacked Foundation?”
She stepped forward, and I stepped back. My wrist was screaming at me, but I would lunge for my weapon on the floor to my left in an instant if she came at me again.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like that! You have to believe me! It was…beyond my control… Children taught to fear the skies, who saw their loved ones slaughtered. Yet the Dravanians—though they know where the fault truly lies—fell upon them with such fury…”
Midgardsormr came to sit on my shoulder. “Men die, and their children forget. But we are everlasting. To us, then is as now. Thou canst not comprehend the violation. The outrage. The fury.”
Iceheart moved her hands into fists. “I will make this right. I am neither a saint nor a savior—just another sinner. Yet I will not forsake this cause. I cannot. I will see this cycle broken and peace restored. I…we can do naught else, for we are now as one…”
She stepped toward me, and I started to move back, but she quickly took my arm in her left hand and, with her right, healed my wrist. The pain was instantly gone, and I sighed as the healing moved to other parts of my body, places I didn’t know were damaged. “I would not hurt nor hinder a child of dragons.” She put her hand on mine and looked at me with what I once believed were cold eyes. “You will know the truth quicker now, Warrior of Light, and when you do, you will join me.”
And with that, she was gone. And I was left alone in the basement with the bodies of heretics and a headache of confusion.
“Midgardsormr—”
“The time is not right, my child. There is much to learn before the secret of Iceheart and the secret she carries will be known.” And with those cryptic words, the little dragon was gone, and the room’s temperature dropped.
I clenched and unclenched my right hand and moved my wrist. It no longer hurt or ached. She’d actually healed it. I looked around the room and caught my bearings. I was still breathing a bit hard, but…I felt…
Better.
“For we are now as one…” What did she mean by that?
I don’t think I’ve felt this calm since I arrived in Ishgard. I was a bit confused—but I was also very cold, and wanted out of this strange basement. I climbed the stairs and walked outside, only to find a contingent of Knights surrounding the house. Artoirel approached me and said, “Master Grey! Praise Halone you are alive! We came as swiftly as we could, but I see we are too late…”
I squinted as I looked up at him.
His eyes widened as he focused on my neck. I touched where her blade had pierced skin and the leather of my fingertips came back smeared with blood.
I gave him my report.
“So they were lurking in the cellar of the farmhouse. Tis a pity Lady Iceheart escaped, but we must not let that detract from your accomplishment! We have them on the run!”
I didn’t feel that was the case, but I kept quiet.
“You have dealt our foes a telling blow this day, my friend, and I shall see that your efforts are recognized. Please, allow my man to escort you back to Ishgard where you may have that wound treated and rest.”
I nodded. Not much else to say. We took another flying mount back to Ishgard and I was escorted back to the House Foretemp. There I took a long bath and sat quietly while the healer attended the hole Iceheart had left me. I found it strange that she healed my wrist, but did not heal my neck.
I’d managed to sit on the windowsill of my room when there was a knock at the door. Artoirel stepped in and gave me a curt nod. “Master Grey…may I speak?”
I didn’t move from my perch. I was tired and getting more tired the longer I sat there.
“Master Grey—I would speak plain. From the first, I questioned your motives and your competence—unjustly, I now realize. Rumors have a way of growing more fantastic as they spread, and quite frankly, those surrounding you beggar belief. But Haurchefant swore that all the stories were true. He championed your cause and begged Father to grant you patronage…
“And he duly listened, because for all his wisdom, he has never been able to say no to my dear half-brother—the legacy of my father’s sole indiscretion.”
I frowned and felt a bit uncomfortable. I felt this wasn’t meant for my ears. It wasn’t my business.
“Mother…hated him, of course. Even on her deathbed, she refused to acknowledge him. And…to be honest, she was not alone in her feelings. But that is not the worst of it,” Artoirel finally moved more into my room and stood in front of me, his hands clasped behind him. “At Camp Riversmeet, when we came upon the wounded knight, I knew immediately that one of us would have to pursue the heretics alone. An onerous task, fraught with danger…and there you were, the savior of Eorzea and honored guest of House Fortemps. My new comrade-in-arms. Haurchefant’s dear friend.”
Artoirel looked away. “I told myself it would be a test, but part of me…part of me hoped that you would fail. Yet you accepted the task without a word of protest, nor any sign of fear. And you duly tracked the enemy down, faced him alone, and lived to tell the tale. Plainly, Haurchefant had the right of it all along. That I doubted your strength bespeaks mine own weakness. But I will not doubt you again, Master Grey, on that you have my word.”
And he gave me a curt bow and a click of his heels.
I pursed my lips and cleared my throat. “I…do thank you for being honest with me, Artoirel. But I think what you told me would be best shared with Haurchefant, so he can know he wasn’t wrong to have confidence in me. Do you agree?”
I could tell from his expression he didn’t want to speak to Haurchefant…but in the end, he nodded, turned, and left the room.
I heard the lock click and sighed. I was still a liability, confined to four walls. I don’t know when I started drinking that night…
Nor can I remember when I stopped. It’s one thing to suspect your host disapproves of you…it’s quite another to actually hear them say it.
NEXT: Onwards and Upwards