Anchorite and the The Heart of Effie. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN. SECRETS BY THE FIRE

Alpin reluctantly opened his eyes. The feeling was terrible: the whole body ached, the head was slow to think. Even the eyes refused to see clear outlines, as if sand had been poured into them. There was no white fog around. As well as nothing reminiscent of the past life.
The first thing Alpin saw distinctly was the briskly dancing flames. The boy was lying by the fire, lit by someone from a handful of small dry wood splinters. It was hot. Someone covered Alpin with a thick and warm blanket. It was evening: the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, but the night had not yet come.
All around was the same wasteland. No people, no houses, nothing that would remind the young man of his native Bryson Hill. Nothing but Alpin, a campfire, and a large silhouette sitting on the other side of the fire. It was a grown man, or at least that's what he looked like. His face was bristled with stubble, and the wrinkles of his forehead and the corners of his eyes were visible. His hair was dirty, but his curls he carelessly pulled back, bandaging them with twine. The man was sitting on a large piece of wood, sharpening the tip of a long stick, building it, probably, into a spear or something like that. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to the elbows. Scars and abrasions covered the skin of this man's hands. The expression on his face was stern in concentration. Disturbing thoughts awoke in boy's head with a bright flash: Ava and Krauser, father and entire Bryson Hill - where are they all? Are they still alive?
'I know you're awake,' the stranger said without looking up from his work.
Holding his breath in surprise, Alpin hesitated for a few more seconds, and then threw off the blanket, which turned out to be a simple leather tunic.
'Do you? How?' Alpin said cautiously, trying to get up from the ground. His arms and legs seemed to be made of cotton wool, they did not yet have enough strength.
'Well, at least when you woke up, you moved your head. I understand your neck must ache. But we are not in the royal chambers and a soft bed for sleep is not worth waiting for. Well, in general, you stopped snoring. You've got some breathing problems, mate.'
The stranger finally looked at the awakened boy and smiled broadly. At first glance, this man seemed to Alpin quite friendly, although he looked menacing in some small way. Having finished with the tip of his “spear”, he put a stick on the ground and began to put dry splinters and something similar to dry grass into the fire, which made it crackle loudly and throw sheaves of sparks into the air, bursting randomly into the sides and drifting up in the wind..
'Who are you? What happened?' still trying to stretch his aching neck, hissed Alpin. 'Where are my friends? Where is Bryson Hill?'
'I've brewed some herbs for you. This is certainly a nasty bit, but it is useful. Something like tea. Something like a very unusual tea. Try it now. Take it. Don’t be afraid.'
He handed Alpin a tin mug with a strange goo brewed in it. Some herbs floated there, very similar to dill, only black and blue.
'Drink, do it. Don't be afraid,' the stranger laughed. 'I won't poison you. Have a drink and then we'll talk.'
Alpin obediently took a couple of sips of this strange tincture. It didn't taste so bad after all. As promised by the stranger, with each sip of this hot drink, it was as if something warm spread throughout the body. Strength returned to the muscles, and clarity to the mind.
'What is this?' Alpin exclaimed with admiration.
The man laughed again.
'I told you it would help,' he repeated. 'My name is Oreon Lance. Nice to meet you. You and I have come a long way. Rather, I did. You were passed out, apparently for several days, no less, I had to carry you. I thought you wouldn't wake up.'
'What about my friends? A strange white fog has swept over our village. Such… such incomprehensible creepy things were going on in it… I dragged my friends behind me, hoping to get out of the cloud… And then… Then emptiness, nothing else…'
'What fog?' The man narrowed his eyes. 'What happened to you there? Come on tell.'
'Well, what to tell?!' Alpin exclaimed. 'It doesn't matter at all! The only thing I want to know is where Aywa and Krauser, my friends, are and where is my dad! And what happened to Bryson Hill?'
Oreon Lance stared at the boy screaming at him in disbelief. He obviously did not understand what the young man wanted to hear from him.
'You calm down, be kind' the man stopped Alpin's hysteria in a firm voice. He clearly wasn't going to tolerate this kind of hysterical behavior. 'I don’t know who you are talking about and what Bryson Hill is, who was there with you and what happened to you, but when I found you, you were all alone. You just sprawled on the ground, face down. I thought you were a lost traveler, a kind of this. But there was no one around, and there were no wounds or blood on your body at all. Atypical, very atypical, you know. It was strange to see a whole and unharmed person lying in the middle of the wasteland. However, I decided not to leave you to the mercy of fate. For a long time no one, except hunters, wanders in these places. It occurred to me that something unusual happened to you.'
'I was alone?' whispered Alpin, looking down. 'But how is it? We were together, I tried to save them... This fog... Strange things happened in it... Where Bryson Hill, my native village, has disappeared to?'
'What's the fog? Will you finally tell me in detail about all this?' Oreon Lance asked.
Alpin felt his heart ache. Terrible pictures flashed in his memory. Sighing, the young man began.
'It was a holiday. Mr. Grouse's birthday. He arranged a grand celebration for our entire village. Then the crazy Mr. Poltus told me something about a plot against my father. He kept saying that our village was going to be in a tough time, and that all the people of Bryson Hill has already doomed. And then… then strange white fog covered the village, very thick, like milk. Never before... I've never seen anything like it...' muttered Alpin, scrolling through the memories in his head. Visions flashed before his eyes like a kaleidoscope.
'It was damp and smelled of rot and sewage. But after…'
Alpin dropped a mug with an incomplete tincture. The horror of memories seized the boy. He clutched his head and breathed rapidly and heavily.
'What then?' Oreon insisted.
'We hung in the air. The faces of my friends were erased. I was in great pain, my whole body was on fire, but I could speak and hear. I saw how my friends turned into lifeless dolls, but for some reason I could walk again then. I could, but they...they can't... It was as if life had completely left their bodies. I dragged Aywa and Krauser with me until my strength ran out.'
'Did you see anything else in this fog? Do you remember anything besides what you already said?' Oreon continued to ask in suspicious impatience. It seems that these details were very important to him by a strange coincidence.
Alpin looked at the man in desperate confusion. His questions sounded ridiculous and completely out of place.
'No!' the boy answered flatly. 'Nothing. I've told. Only impenetrable fog. Yes, I could hardly see Aywa and Krauser, and they were very close. At that moment, I was not up to the details, I just wanted to save myself and my friends! So where are they now? Where could they have gone? Where could my entire village have disappeared to?'
'I didn’t see your friends, or the fog, or the village, I already said ...' Oreon said with a gloomy look. 'I can guess what might have happened. Perhaps I found you too late. Only the Five, I believe, know how long you lay unconscious.'
Oreon Lance got to his feet. Only now Alpin realized that man was one and a half times taller than him. Just a giant.
'But how? How did you even get out of there?'
Oreon walked closer to the frightened young man and sat right on the opposite side of him.
'And what is this village you're talking about? For many years, from the Infinite Wall to the lands of Embry, a rotten wasteland has been spreading. All cities and villages have long been destroyed. If at least one still remained safe and sound, I would know about it for sure.'
Oreon asked firmly, in front of him Alpin suddenly felt like a mouse before a boa constrictor. The conversation strangely turned into a real interrogation: the man uttered the words with an obvious note of disbelief in his voice. But it was impossible to reveal the whole truth to a stranger, especially about Alpin's magical origin. What to say to him? How to choose the right words and look convincing? The young man's eyes darted from side to side, showing uncertainty.
Oreon, apparently realizing that he had frightened the boy, exhaled and, trying to make his voice softer, continued:
'You've got to the Ahlise.'
'Ah… ah-what?' Alpin asked.
Oreon's eyes were full of surprise. The eyes widened and seemed to scream: “Don't you really know what ahlise is?”, as if it was something that every child knows from birth by default.
'This white fog, as you called it, is an enchanted substance, a mist that walks through the lands of Abbaddon since long time ago,' the man explained. 'They call him Ahlise. Everyone knows that this fog must be avoided. Understand? No one in history has ever made it out alive or dead. Nobody knows what's inside. So I have a suspicion that it was with Ahlise that you encountered. That's why your story surprises me so much. You are the first who did not perish when meeting with this fog. And to be honest, I'm surprised you've never heard of Ahlise at all. You, brother, as if not of this world ...'
Alpin was silent and simply tried to digest the information. Oreon understood this and showed patience. He sat down next to him and did not say anything for several minutes, continuing to throw dry sticks into the fire.
'You want to say that...' Alpin squeezed out the words in a trembling voice, 'so... my whole village, my friends were carried away by Ahlise... well, is it a cloud? But are they alive, the people of Bryson Hill? Say there's a chance that...'
'I told you, you are the first one who was in the Ahlise and came out of it. You are the first who could tell what is inside. But certainly no one can tell if your village is alive, but if I were you, I wouldn't have any hope of saving it. I want to understand why it happened that Ahlise did not take you away like your entire village? There is no room for luck here. There must be a reason...'
Alpin could not believe all this. He looked at Oreon as if he did not even believe in his presence, as if everything around now was nothing but an illusion, a phantom deception. It was too unreal: in just one night, he lost his home, family, friends, life. Alpin suddenly felt a huge emptiness in his heart, burning and heavy. Just at that moment, the boy fully realized what kind of trouble he was in.
'Do you have a name?' Oreon asked.
Alpin did not hear the question and asked again. He generally felt very distracted now.
'Name,' Oreon repeated. 'Do you have a name?'
'I'm Alpin. That's my name,' the boy said quietly, picking up the mug from the ground. Healing tea to the last drop flowed to the ground. Oreon noticed it too, and reaching for his flask, he poured some more tincture into the mug.
'What are you going to do now?' he asked, handing the mug to Alpin.
Alpin did not know the answer to this question. Confusion dragged the young man into a quagmire. He began convulsively recalling the details of the previous evening, the words of the crazy old man Poltus. He said something about the forests and about the elves, about the help waiting there.
'Do you know where the wood of the elves are?' Alpin asked, taking a sip of tea.
'The Wood of the Elves? Oh, yes. Of course I know where it is' this question completely surprised Oreon. 'What do you want from them? Elves are capricious and proud creatures, and they do not favor people at all. In addition, their king, Taurebeleg, hates the entire human race. Under him, you will definitely not be welcomed with open arms, you can trust me about that.'
'Yes, that's right' Alpin nodded. 'This is the name you have just called the king of the elves. That's where I need to go.'
Orion chuckled loudly. He pulled out another flask, slightly larger than the one that contained the tincture, and took a greedy sip. The drink was probably very strong, judging by the way the man wrinkled his face when he pulled the flask out of his mouth.
'You are an interesting person, Alpin. You left the village, which could not exist, escaped from the Ahlise, who did not spare any of the mortals or immortals, and now you are going to visit the forest to the elves, who hate the entire human race. But…'
Oreon took another sip and then pulled the flask away. He took a deep breath, looking at the gradually weakening tongues of fire, and continued.
'But for whatever reasons you keep on your way, there is something in you, unusual. I bet you know that too. And you cannot be reproached for being silent: in our time, few people can be trusted.'
The man reached into his pocket with his hand and, pulling something out of it, handed Alpin the compass. The compass that old Poltus left as a gift to the young man that damned evening.
'Even the one who saved your life and carried you on himself, sparing no effort. Not south like you wanted. To the East.'
'What about in the east?' Alpin asked, clutching at the compass, but trying not to show how important this little thing was to him.
'I'm on my way there,' Oreon replied coldly. 'I have business with Aivazor Simpson. He's in charge behind the wall. Holly the Five, in what world did you live before we met? Also tell me what you don't know about Taurentius, about the royal lands in Embry and King Primus...'
'King Primus?' Alpin said this, not expecting from himself, remembering the strange guest of his father. 'I know the King Primus. I’d have something to say to him if he was in my way!'
Oreon hemmed as he looked at Alpin as if he was crazy.
'Well, apparently, you only know the dead, and conversations with them can hardly be useful, by the way,' the man shook his head.
'Dead people?' Alpin noted. 'In what sense, the dead?'
'King Primus has been dead for several years now,' Oreon stated. 'Everyone knows about it. The king was killed, by whom and why - only rumors are known, but he is certainly dead. It's a pity, the ruler of him was not so lousy. With him, there was at least some unity. There was hope that the wars would end. Now his wife Parnasida rules Embry, if you can call it this way. She is a nasty woman. I saw her only once - there is still disgust in my throat...'
Mr. Poltus was right. Here is the evidence. The father's guest turned out to be an impostor. Alpin was lost in thought, trying to remember every detail of what old Poltus had said in the tavern. The words of that unsociable madman suddenly acquired inestimable significance for Alpin.
Oreon pulled a large bag towards him and pulled out a small piece of rye bread. Seeing him, Alpin felt an unpleasant sensation in his stomach. It looks like he's seriously hungry. The boy's stomach made a loud bubbling sound a couple of times. No wonder: Alpin ate a very long time ago.
'Eat, I allow you,' Oreon said with a smile. ‘The forest of the elves are not close. The wall - even more so. Offhand about four days of travel. And you will come with me, Alpin.'
The man, tearing a piece of bread into two parts, shared with his interlocutor.
'Sorry, I have to keep going south, into the forests of the elves,' whispered Alpin. 'I thank you for saving me. But I have to... I can't say why. It just has to.'
The young man, wishing to finally drown his hunger, began to eat bread. It was stale and old, but it was incredibly tasty nonetheless. Perhaps Alpin never thought about how simple food can be desirable and enjoyable at the moment. The tea in the mug was already over, so the boy had to fill up on dry bread. But still it was great.'
'Why do you want me to go with you?' Alpin asked.
Oreon, after a moment's thought, replied.
'You don't tell me much because you don't know much about yourself. I read it between the lines, it shows in your eyes. Behind the Wall you can find the answers. Just like you, I cannot tell you everything now, but you will still thank me for taking you to Ademius.'
'What's the Wall? What is Ademius? I don't understand anything…' Alpin shook his head.
'Of course you don't. You are like a puppy that has just been taken away from its mother's tit. You don't know anything about the world around you. But I'm sure there's a good reason for that, although I'm at a loss for the moment...' Oreon shrugged.
The man approached the fire, which was rapidly fading, and began to put out the last flames with his boot. Immediately it became so dark that Alpin could hardly distinguish the face of his interlocutor.
'I must go into the elf forest because I am in danger!' said Alpin himself without expecting it. 'Please help me reach this forest. I am still a child, you are right, I know nothing of the world around me. I know nothing of war, about which I listened to the tales of village chatterers all my childhood. But this King Primus you told me about appeared in our village on the very day the fog came. Alive or dead, but he wanted to take my father with him. And when my father refused, the story with the white fog had taken place. Crazy old man Poltus tried to warn me, but I didn’t believe him. He said that some intruders would come after me and that I needed to hide from them in the woods of the south...'
It was difficult to discern the emotions of Oreon Lance in the darkness. The man was silent, standing in the twilight. Alpin was in a state of wild fear: the boy was simply afraid to be left all alone in this big, unfamiliar world.
'You don't have to fall asleep,' Oreon said seriously, laying down on the ground and putting his bag under his head. 'But be sure to be quiet and not make noise. These places, in general, are safe, but only for those who quieter water below the grass. We have a few more days of travel ahead of us. There will be time, and I will tell you both about the Wall and about Ademius.'
Alpin did not want to sleep. The boy was breathing heavily, holding Mr. Poltus' compass. Life would never be the same, it became clear. Oreon is a stranger, but it would be safer with him, with his knowledge and skills. Alpin lay down on the ground, staring up at the blue-black sky. No matter what happens tomorrow, there will be no turning back, this was the bitter truth. Alpin also decided that he would definitely find friends: something inside told him that father, Aywa and Krauser were still alive. Like the whole of Bryson Hill, a native island of peace and serenity, so unjustly and suddenly deprived by unknown forces of the young man. Cherishing that thought, the boy closed his eyes, listening to Oreon snoring faintly.