Dunsage Diaries
Chapter IX
The change he felt inside him was oddly satisfying. He felt free; more alive than he had felt in a long time. The best thing for him was that the collar that once hung around his neck, immobilizing him in pain when he tried to remember his past life, had now been reduced to a twisted hunk of metal on the ground at his feet.
He stared at it for a long while and realised after some time that he was smiling. He went to make a move towards the mountain and that is when he remembered what he had just done to Honnar.
It shouldn’t have mattered after what he had done to those people. He was an evil man. He deserved what happened to him. However, Falmore couldn’t help but feel partially guilty at the events that occurred. He just stood there and let Honnar kill those people who proclaimed to be allies with the old Falmore. It bothered him deeply that he was referring to himself as ‘old Falmore’ before he lost his memory.
As much as Falmore hated the sight of that retched man who now lay motionless on the ground in a puddle of his own blood and bones, he couldn’t just leave him there like that. He wasn’t that kind of man. The least he could do was to dig a shallow grave for the traitor.
He got onto his knees and began to dig. He had no tools so he began scraping at the earth with his fingers. He wished there were some sort of magic to make a shovel or something useful to appear. Maybe he knew of such magic once.
It took a long while before the hole was deep enough to put the body into. When he had started, it was warm, the sun was high and the sky was a pale blue. Now, the temperature had dropped as night began to loom. The sun was on the horizon which cast the sky in a reddish purple.
He rolled the body into the hole and started covering it up with the soil from the dug grave. Falmore said not a word in the process. When he was finished, he kicked some dirt over the bloody patch on the ground to cover that as well.
As quick as lightning, he remembered what Honnar had told him about the creatures that came out in the shadow of nightfall. He also remembered the encounter with the creature in the town, and how he drove the sword Honnar gave him into its chest when it was lying on the ground injured. He had thought he had done the creature a justice. He wouldn’t be so merciful if any came to attack him in the open like this.
He got on his horse and loosed the sword from its scabbard on the side of the horse, just in case. He kicked his heels into the horse’s sides and made it gallop towards the cave on the mountainside in the distance.
It was almost dark by the time Falmore reached the cave. He got off the horse and gave it a pat on the nose. Rummaging through the supplies the Grand Master had gave him for his journey, he found some oil in a small container and a few old rags. He would need a torch to cut through the complete blackness of the cave up ahead. Looking around the ground he found a stick that he thought big enough to be a torch. He wrapped the old rag around the tip of the branch and poured the oil on it. At this point he realised he had no means of lighting said torch.
“Shit,” he spoke aloud.
He remembered that Honnar was able to produce fireballs by chanting a series of words. All he needed to do was recall them, but he found this near impossible.
Just as he was about to give up he felt a tingling deep inside him, and felt it flowing from his belly all the way up to his arm and down into his hand. All of a sudden his hand burst into flame. He began to panic, trying to put the fire out by flailing his hand back and forth, but the fire would not relent. He realised that the flame was not burning him. He didn’t feel any pain in his hand at all. When he calmed down, it was an odd feeling but one that felt good. This must be the magic that the old Falmore was capable of. Realising he didn’t need the oily rag on a stick anymore; he cast it on the ground and started for the cave.
The air in the cave seemed to grow heavier as he went deeper in. The walls were bare at the mouth of the cave, but as he ventured further, the walls began to house pictures and scribbles that he did not understand even after staring at them for a long moment. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a faint light coming further down. He raised his flaming hand to possibly cast more light so he could see what the glowing object was, but it was no use. Falmore walked towards the light.
As he got closer, the luminous object began to take shape. It was a circular object, placed on top of some sort of pedestal. It looked sort of familiar but he could not recall how, although, many things had this effect on him these days.
He walked right up to the object. It was a relic of some sort. Perhaps this was the amulet that the Grand Master had sent him to fetch. Falmore knew not of many things that produced light such as this relic that stood in front of him.
He reached out and grabbed the amulet with his non-incinerating hand.
The moment his skin came in contact with the object, it let out a great flash of light and he felt something flowing through him. He could not let go of it. He felt the energy flowing through him, getting stronger and stronger with each heartbeat. He himself began to feel much stronger.
Just as sudden as the events began, they were over. Falmore felt out of breath and his head was dizzy. Something inside him felt different. It took him a few moments to realise what it was.
He remembered everthing.
He stared at it for a long while and realised after some time that he was smiling. He went to make a move towards the mountain and that is when he remembered what he had just done to Honnar.
It shouldn’t have mattered after what he had done to those people. He was an evil man. He deserved what happened to him. However, Falmore couldn’t help but feel partially guilty at the events that occurred. He just stood there and let Honnar kill those people who proclaimed to be allies with the old Falmore. It bothered him deeply that he was referring to himself as ‘old Falmore’ before he lost his memory.
As much as Falmore hated the sight of that retched man who now lay motionless on the ground in a puddle of his own blood and bones, he couldn’t just leave him there like that. He wasn’t that kind of man. The least he could do was to dig a shallow grave for the traitor.
He got onto his knees and began to dig. He had no tools so he began scraping at the earth with his fingers. He wished there were some sort of magic to make a shovel or something useful to appear. Maybe he knew of such magic once.
It took a long while before the hole was deep enough to put the body into. When he had started, it was warm, the sun was high and the sky was a pale blue. Now, the temperature had dropped as night began to loom. The sun was on the horizon which cast the sky in a reddish purple.
He rolled the body into the hole and started covering it up with the soil from the dug grave. Falmore said not a word in the process. When he was finished, he kicked some dirt over the bloody patch on the ground to cover that as well.
As quick as lightning, he remembered what Honnar had told him about the creatures that came out in the shadow of nightfall. He also remembered the encounter with the creature in the town, and how he drove the sword Honnar gave him into its chest when it was lying on the ground injured. He had thought he had done the creature a justice. He wouldn’t be so merciful if any came to attack him in the open like this.
He got on his horse and loosed the sword from its scabbard on the side of the horse, just in case. He kicked his heels into the horse’s sides and made it gallop towards the cave on the mountainside in the distance.
It was almost dark by the time Falmore reached the cave. He got off the horse and gave it a pat on the nose. Rummaging through the supplies the Grand Master had gave him for his journey, he found some oil in a small container and a few old rags. He would need a torch to cut through the complete blackness of the cave up ahead. Looking around the ground he found a stick that he thought big enough to be a torch. He wrapped the old rag around the tip of the branch and poured the oil on it. At this point he realised he had no means of lighting said torch.
“Shit,” he spoke aloud.
He remembered that Honnar was able to produce fireballs by chanting a series of words. All he needed to do was recall them, but he found this near impossible.
Just as he was about to give up he felt a tingling deep inside him, and felt it flowing from his belly all the way up to his arm and down into his hand. All of a sudden his hand burst into flame. He began to panic, trying to put the fire out by flailing his hand back and forth, but the fire would not relent. He realised that the flame was not burning him. He didn’t feel any pain in his hand at all. When he calmed down, it was an odd feeling but one that felt good. This must be the magic that the old Falmore was capable of. Realising he didn’t need the oily rag on a stick anymore; he cast it on the ground and started for the cave.
The air in the cave seemed to grow heavier as he went deeper in. The walls were bare at the mouth of the cave, but as he ventured further, the walls began to house pictures and scribbles that he did not understand even after staring at them for a long moment. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a faint light coming further down. He raised his flaming hand to possibly cast more light so he could see what the glowing object was, but it was no use. Falmore walked towards the light.
As he got closer, the luminous object began to take shape. It was a circular object, placed on top of some sort of pedestal. It looked sort of familiar but he could not recall how, although, many things had this effect on him these days.
He walked right up to the object. It was a relic of some sort. Perhaps this was the amulet that the Grand Master had sent him to fetch. Falmore knew not of many things that produced light such as this relic that stood in front of him.
He reached out and grabbed the amulet with his non-incinerating hand.
The moment his skin came in contact with the object, it let out a great flash of light and he felt something flowing through him. He could not let go of it. He felt the energy flowing through him, getting stronger and stronger with each heartbeat. He himself began to feel much stronger.
Just as sudden as the events began, they were over. Falmore felt out of breath and his head was dizzy. Something inside him felt different. It took him a few moments to realise what it was.
He remembered everthing.