In the Footsteps of the Sinners

Beluacor may have refrained from telling us the details about the role he played himself in the story he told us, but given how much he knows about the threat hidden down there, I’m pretty sure Timoria and Tyffeon have little doubt about that. Little doubt… yet enough to chase the obviousness away.

    Nobody would easily get to sleep tonight.

    With a glance at them, I leave my companions lying down next to the campfire, deciding to talk to Beluacor. He’s been standing away for a long moment now, and no need for a degree to notice that he’s still lost in thought.

“What are you even looking at?” I ask, joining his side. “There are not even stars down there.”

“Mmm…” He muses, his hands clasped behind his back. “Sometimes, you have nothing else to stare at than darkness. It is what it is.”

“That’s frightening.”

    Beluacor turns his head to gaze at me.

“That is.”

    For a moment, I consider the possibility of saying something dumb as I usually do and try to cheer him up. As I am hesitant, Beluacor stares back ahead of him. Beyond the crystal trees casting some light over there, who knows what is lurking.

“I often prefer the company of the monsters to that of people.” He resumes. “They are still less frightening.”

    In turn, I follow his gaze, staring at the unknown shadows.

“Beluacor… There’s a chance that you’ll be the one to become the emissary of the Taint.”

“I see.”

“That doesn’t surprise you?”

    This time, he doesn’t reply at once. Even without looking back at him, I can picture him rubbing his beard.

“Mildly?” He ends up saying. “Let me tell you one thing I never told anyone. Not even Tyffeon.”

    I remain silent, letting him tell me about what he used to keep buried deep inside.

“When I failed to save his parents, it didn’t take me long to decide to keep him with me and raise him by myself. I never regretted my choice. He’s surely the best thing that has happened to me. As I never considered having a wife, I can tell you that without him, my house would have always remained silent.” He pauses. “Though… deep down, each time I saw him, somewhere, I felt guilty.”

    At these words, I turn my gaze back at Beluacor.

“I felt guilty because when I decided to keep him I couldn’t help but think… ‘Maybe if I do save a life, it will wipe out my crimes?’”

“But you’ve never regretted keeping him with you, right? You’ve always been sincere. I think that’s enough.”

    A pause.

“Just promise me one thing.” I ask. “Whatever happens, don’t try to kill Domiteo’s son.”

***

    Near the camp, the flames are still crackling.

“You’re not asleep,.. are you?” Timoria cautiously whispers.

    A brief, uncertain silence.

“Why are you asking?” Tyffeon answers.

“Umm… It is, it is just that today’s events… they were a lot to take.”

    He frowns, a tad. She can’t see it, of course, but he frowns. Many things happened indeed, not many about which he would like to think. And yet…

    Maybe awaiting a reaction from him, maybe considering her next words, the cowmaiden doesn’t continue at once.

“I was wondering… did it really not affect you to face that monster, that Shroomlure? If I understood it correctly, this was the same kind of monster that killed your parents when you were little. But you managed to stay composed all along. If… if it were me, I would have been terrified.”

    At least he is relieved that she doesn’t initiate dialogue about what his father has told them earlier. It would have truly bothered him. But, probably, they just both want to think about something else.

    So he decides to indulge her whims.

“I have no memories of my parents. All I know about them lies in what Beluacor told me. Daoine Sidhes who came to their kingdom to ensure their child a future, who wanted to get to know their customs and to show gratitude to the people they met at Toll Dubh. Beluacor briefly met them, warning them that going unaccompanied beyond the most frequented levels of the dungeon was reckless. Yet, by excess of trust in themselves or in that kingdom that welcomed them,.. well, they met their fate.” He pauses, rolling onto his back to glance upwards. Nothing but darkness, aside maybe from furtive red eyes. Spiders? Small, he hopes. “I don’t hate them, but my only family is still by my side. I can’t afford to let anything distract me. For it is not in my plans to lose the father I have.”

    No answer comes.

    For a moment, Tyffeon thinks she simply fell asleep, and considers if he should see that as an offence that his past has the effect of a lullaby.

    But then, he hears the sniffing, guesses the sobs.

“Oi.. What’s gotten into you?”

“But, but…” Her shaking voice makes his shoulders stiffen. “You’re so brave, you’re always ready to defend the ones you care for.”

    A snort makes her pause.

“I’m not even sure if I am able to do anything else than to stain them…” She admits.

“What nonsense is that again? You’ve already protected people around you.”

“Ehh..?”

“What do you think you did earlier, when you used your benediction against the Shroomlure? You’ve already protected us, and that’s what you tried to do in Makhlubi, trying to protect your ruler in your own… twisted way, to say the least.”

“But…”

    He hears her shift, probably turning to him. Though Tyffeon has already turned his back to her, closing his eyes.

***

    The next day, the day that follows, and for who knows exactly how many more, we keep wandering through the depths. We can be grateful to Beluacor’s presence, for without him we could have kept walking randomly for seasons, for years. For a time we don’t have.

    If at times we need to face some monsters crossing our path, we have surprisingly no real difficulty to defeat them. Beluacor even ends up being able to tame more of them then initially, though they don’t go so far as to agree to stay by his side. Or maybe does he avoid to make them stay, fearing the threat they may turn into…

    Crossing rocky knolls, tunnels lit by red minerals hanging from the ceiling, and sometimes gullies where makeshift bridges assure the passage, we keep following Beluacor. Awa, decidedly more awake than ever in this ever-night setting, keeps flying around us. Chasing from time to time some mouse-like creatures.

    It gives more time than I would have wished for to wonder if I did the right choices, if I haven’t committed a mistake we’ll have to pay for. Toll Dubh should be safe for now, the only place the emissary should come from being the depths. I even made sure to ask around if anyone knew Ken, the Hero, for according to the kingdom he comes from, it may trigger a precise scenario. But it appeared that no Knocker has ever heard of him before. I wanted to ask Timoria more about him, but something holds me back.

    Not now. That’s not the right moment.

“Are we still far from our goal?” Tyffeon asks as we leave once more the last place we stopped at to rest.

“Mmm… It’s been centuries since I came there, though… I think we’re rather close. That’s what my guts are telling me.”

“If father-in-law says we’re close, then I trust his guts.” I chime in.

“Tssk.”

“Umm… Is that just me, or… is there someone walking in our direction?” Timoria quietly asks.

    Cutting short our chattering, we all turn our gazes to the silhouette which, indeed, approaches.

    If we get ready to attack in case of it being a monster, we soon catch sight of the creamy beard, of the traditional clothing. No helmet upon the top of his head, but at least bronze cauldrons covering his shoulders. Another asset that the Knockers wear to get protected from rockfalls in the dungeon.

“Beluacor? Is that you? And… oh, all these people with you.” The Knocker blinks, dumbfounded.

    This simplest tone, these amber eyes…

“Yohh, Umbrestio.” Beluacor replies. “Looks like we’ve finally found someone. Nice to see you safe and sound.”

    That’s Domiteo’s son. The son of the Knocker who was the only one of his group to come back from the rite, the same group in which was Curreo.

    I can feel a knot in my stomach forming, little by little. Is he the emissary? But he doesn’t seem tainted yet.

“I’m glad to see you.” Umbrestio replies with a simple smile. “But… why are you here? I thought it was forbidden.”

    He absent-mindedly rubs his fingers against his hair.

    Before he answers him, Tyffeon’s father exchanges a glance with me. I nod to him.

“The Saintess and her friends you see here want to honour our traditions and intend to pass the rite of passage as our folk do. Knowing how dangerous it is, I have been exceptionally granted permission to return to the depths along with them. To guide them.”

    Umbrestio takes a moment to consider these words, and I wonder if he’s truly gonna believe it, but…

“Oh. Oh, I see.” He buys it.

“Do you know where the other Knockers are? Have you seen them?” Tyffeon asks.

    Slowly, the young Knocker turns his eyes to him. For a while, he remains silent. A moment long enough to give me chills.

“Yes.” He utters. “Would you like me to lead you to them?”

    As Beluacor nods, we soon resume walking, following Umbrestio.

    I know I shouldn’t think that… but part of me hoped we would find him already tainted, so that Beluacor would have been safe from risking that fate.

“No! No, no, no. If he still isn’t tainted, then that’s for the better! There’s hope. We can still try to avoid anyone from being tainted. No one needs to become the emissary.”

    That doesn’t ease the knot in my belly, this latter thought failing to convince me fully…

    For I know that the taint accumulated in these lands is begging for release. It needs but a spark.

***

    After what felt like hours, we approach a heap of ruins, of what looks like ancient stone columns. Remains of what once built Knockers of the oldest generations, the ones who stayed there for decades. But now… so many have died for the past centuries that they are now allowed to come back by the end of the season they leave, if they find an egg. No one maintains these places any more.

“They are over there.” Umbrestio utters, slowing his pace, slowing until he’s behind us. “You can join them.”

    An unease. Ahead of us, a stone arch leading us to a half-destroyed construction. It’s almost a pain to breathe. As if the air was more dense here.

    It holds no sense. The Knockers are not supposed to gather. That is against the tradition. The rite of passage teaches them to survive by themselves, in a place filled with monsters.

    We exchange glances, readying ourselves to the more than poorly set up trap we’re heading to, and step forward, under the arch.

“Stay there, Awa.” I reach out my hands to my satchel, making sure to close it securely. ‘Better to avoid that my owl sneaks out.

    A muffled sound.

    Timoria has pressed her hand against her lips. Her eyes are wide open, her irises trembling.

    Ahh… They are here, indeed.

    All four of the other Knockers sent in the depths at the same time as Umbrestio. None of them moves, though. Not that they can, each of them being glued to a translucent, black mass akin to that of a slime glued to the ground.

    A mass where, in its viscous insides, float bunches of splinters of bark, stones, earth… all along with remnants of clothes.

    Slowly, the Knockers freshly captured get absorbed into that mass. It forms the silhouette of a hooded creature, the edges of its large sleeves shaded with violet. A skull resembling that of a dragon protrudes from the unnatural shadow of its hood. Its eyes glowing lilac as it lowers its gaze at us, black slime dripping from its jaws, splattering the ground around us.

“More prey?” A sinister voice hisses. “That is more than I expected from you, Knocker.”