Badoan

Baodan sprinted across the dirt path leading to a large cedar tree, nearly four shoulder-widths across. A small hill sloped down below it, with some packed dirt steps, supported with bundles of packed sticks leading to a small doorframe in the side of the hill’s base. His steps echoed faintly in the early morning, especially given the silence of the village, in the wake of the attack. Buildings had been reduced to smoldering embers in the night. Thick smoke had blotted out the full moon, and the acrid stench, even now, seemed to permeate every dewdrop and leaf.

“Raum!” he called out, as he rounded the corner to the front of her burrow.

He froze abruptly, almost running into the tall lanky man that guarded his friend’s home. The Inquisitor, Lawbrin, stood outside the front door to Raum’s dwelling. Her entry way opened up to a few wooden steps going down, moving further under the shelter of the tree and hill. Her modest living space was built into the hill with only a thatch and mudded wall to bar against the outside air. The Inquisitor seemed out of place, as tall as he was, standing there. The hill crested nearly at his head height, and the door seemed a head too short for him.

Lawbrin was wrapped up in a travel cloak, but opened the front as Baodan approached. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword. He didn’t draw it, and his hand released when he recognized the hunter’s face. 

“Don’t disturb her yet. She will be out shortly.”

“Beggin your pardon, but I do not need your permission to check on my friend.”

“Begging your pardon, you do.”

Lawbrin stepped between Baodan and the door, as the boy moved forward to open the door.

“She’s not your prisoner, and you have no authority.”

Lawbrin chuckled, amused.

“No authority? I’m not sure you understand my role, young man. You’re right, she’s no prisoner. But I am now her protector. Give her a moment. This is a big day for her.”

“Raum!” the boy yelled, craning to try and see around Lawbrin.

There was shuffling from inside the dwelling, and after a moment, the door opened with a thatched groan. The face of a young woman, lavender-tinted skin freshly washed of grime and blood, appeared. He slowly opened the door wide, and Baodan could see the large canvas backpack that she was holding behind her leg, attempting to conceal it.

“What’s that?”

“Baodan,” her voice trailed off and she dropped her gaze to her feet. “I have to leave. It’s not safe for me to be with you all.”

“Leave? What do you mean, leave?” His voice carried a mixture of anger and despair, and a tint of anxiety.

“I’m going to go with the Inquisitors, away from the village. The elders convened this morning, and felt that would be the best for everyone.”

“They just threw you out? Why you? What did Master Gralik have to say about all this?”

Lawbrin stepped aside as Raum exited the burrow. She let her hand lest for an extra few seconds on the door frame, before she turned around and spoke again.

“Gralik opposed the decision, but even he can’t outweigh the council alone. I heard their arguments. I believe them, when they say this is the only way forward. Those raiders…they were looking for me, Baodan. They were hunting for me. And people that you and I love…” her voice choked, “...people we loved…died because of me.”

“That’s not your fault! You didn’t do anything.”

“It’s not a matter of fault,” said Lawbrin, solemnly. “If those men wanted to take your friend, it was for some foul purpose. They will do anything to find her–even destroy what little remains of your home and the people here. I’ve seen such things more times that I care to count.”

He looked to Raum, desperately. Both the INquisitor and his friend shared the same humbled, resolved expression of regret.

“You’d just leave, without saying goodbye.”

She looked sad and offended, “No! I was going to say goodbye. I just wanted to do it soon before we left.”

“When will you be back?”

She looked up to Lawbrin, who gave her a soft, apologetic twitch of his mouth.

“I won’t be.”

Baodan was speechless. He could feel his stomach churning, and a weight forming in his throat. His eyes darted between his best friend and the Inquisitor beside her.

“You can’t leave…”

“I have to.” Raum dropped the pack, and moved to embrace Baodan in a tight hug. She pressed her face into his chest, and he could feel the tears soaking through the linen of his shirt. All he could do was wrap his arms around her as tightly, and squeeze.

He pulled her back, wiping a tear that threatened to streak down his face.

“I’m coming with you.”

She sighed, “No. You’re needed here. The village needs to be rebuilt, and everyone needs you to help protect them.”

“Raum, you saw last night. I’m not going make any difference here, if what happened last night, happens again. Let me come.”

“No. You can’t follow me down this path, my friend. Let me go.”

She was still teary-eyed. Streaks of salt water stained her face with a shimmer.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“You find reasons to stay. Think about your mother, father, brother. Think about the life you’ll could have with Milica.”

He hung his head low at that. “They died last night. Father, Geoffrey, Milica. All three of them. It’s just mother left.”

“Creator’s light…” gasped Raum, her palm coming to her face. “

Baodan shuffled his feet, tears beginning to stream, uncontrolled, down his face. His body began to jerk as he tried to calm himself, the tears finally winning out against his restraint. Baodan imagined the face of his younger brother, but the image was overshadowed by the pile of ashes that lay where his childhood home once stood.

He moved to cover his face when he felt the soft hand of his friend on his shoulder.

“Don’t let her lose you, too. Let me go, Baodan. I’ll be safe with the Inquisitors. Don’t worry about me. Just worry about getting this place back up and running.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You have to.”

The Baodan became aware of shadow that passed over the two of them. The Inquisitor known as Whisper stood on the crest of the slope, over them, blocking the light from the early sunrays. As Baodan looked at her, she seemed far less intimidating in the light of day, than she had in the shadows. Yet, there was something deeply unsettling about her. Maybe it was the confidence in her stride, and maybe it was the stoic expression she wore as she stared down at his friend. The Inquisitor named Lawbrin had turned to look at her, and Baodan caught the echo of a small gesture with the man’s eyebrows.

“Is this the boy from last night,” Whisper asked.

Lawbrin nodded.

“What is your name, boy?”

“Baodan, Baodan Thornfield.”

Whisper crouched at the knees, dangling one arm down past the ridge of the hill. She looked relaxed, but intense simultaneously. In the light of day, he guessed Whisper was not much older than he was. But she carried a heavy presence about her, which made her seem more wise.

“You have potential, child. We’re taking your friend Raum away from here for everyone’s safety, including her own. She is demonkin, and she was important to the men who attacked you last night. That combination cannot be ignored.” She caught Baodan’s red tear-stained eyes with her own. The thick charcoal colored makeup around Whisper’s eyes intensified the deep hazel-brown of the iris. It was unsettling to make prolonged eye contact with the woman. But she never blinked. 

“You may come with us, if you wish, to accompany your friend. But if you do, I suspect you will also be in grave danger. The road is not kind, and if your friend is important in the ways we suspect, you will be even less safe, by her side. I leave the choice to you. But don’t rush into this out of blind devotion or loyalty. Think carefully, as you’ll likely never see this place again.”

Baodan looked to Whisper, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “I’m coming with Raum. I accept the risk.”

Whisper nodded quickly and turned to Lawbrin in silent conference.

“Get them ready to head out in an hour. Let them say their goodbyes. I’ll go speak with the elders before we leave.”

Lawbrin ushered Raum forward, up the steps of the small hill, Baodan following closely behind. He watched as the lanky Inquisitor moved up the steps with silent, almost dance-like steps. He was sure-footed, and practiced, even as Baodan shuffled more awkwardly up the natural steps in a rocking motion. 

They came to the village again, seeing the desolation throughout the forest clearing they had called home. There were about eighty in total that had died, nearly half the village’s population. Bodies were being collected where they could be found, and prepared in rows, covered by linens of all colors. Baodan smelled the stench of death beginning to set in as bodies of the raiders were piled together to be burned. Villagers spread through the dozen-or-so ruined structures, sorting through what belongings had not been burned up, to see what was salvageable. The cries of mothers and small children echoes across the clearing.

Baodan made his way through the thin crowd, towards the now abandoned house, which had been set up as a makeshift infirmary. Inside, several people were sprawled out on temporary bedding and woven mats, in various states of injury. The healers in the village, aided by several of the herbalists, were working to ease their pain, and attend to their wounds.

Baodan scanned for the short woman wearing the brightest yellow nightgown. His mother was unconscious on a woven grass mat near the center of the room. Her forehead was draped with a damp rag, and her body, to her waist, was covered with a thin woolen blanket.

Baodan sat on the floor beside her, gently taking her hand in his.

“Hello, mother. It’s me.”

She didn’t stir. He could tell that she was unaware of his presence, but her strongly felt the need to say his fair well. This would be the last time he would speak with her in person, at least for a long while, if what the Inquisitors said was true.

“I’m so sorry about father, and Geoff. I couldn’t help them. I had the children.” He started crying softly as he continued. “I’m so sorry. But…I have to leave, mother. I have to go with Raum. She’s being taken away from here, and I can’t leave her alone. She’s not safe here with us, and I’m not so sure she’s safe with those devil hunters.”

He gripped her hand tightly, pulling his forehead to the back of her fist.

“I love you, mother. But I can’t stay. You always said for me to listen for signs from the Creator. I think this is one of them. I have to listen. But I promise…I promise to come back here when whatever is happening, is over.”

He became aware again of a pair of eyes watching him. He looked up to see Whisper in the corner of the room, sulking against the shadows. She motioned outside with her head.

“They are taking me with them now, mom.”

He looked around the room for a moment, and found a small piece of charcoal from the fireplace, and ripped a small blank page from one of the books on the shelf by the far wall of the kitchen. He scribbled a quick note, folded it, and tucked it into his mother’s hand.

“Goodbye, mom.”

And with that, he turned quickly and left for the front door.

He recited the small text in his head, hoping his mother would understand.

I saw the light of the Creator before me. My purpose was laid bare. He decreed that I shall go forth down the road of no return. To the betterment of all. I asked them not to weep, but cry out His glory, for which I will gladly serve

It was a passage from one of the newer chapters of the Book of Aewalyn which Baodan had reflected on many times. It spoke to purpose, bestowed on Yaelman by the Creator himself, in the final days of the Hallowing War, before the young farmer took up his sword and struck down the Mad Mage Dakronias, and sealing the great Void Tear. It asked those he left not to mourn, but to see Yaelman’s action as an act of unwavering devotion to the purpose the Creator had given him. He hoped it would give his mother comfort to know that if this was the Creator’s purpose for him, Baodan would pursue it without hesitation.

He emerged into the now risen sun, the beams scattering light across the village, through the thick leafy canopy of the forest.

Whisper waited for him several dozen feet from the door, and silently moved in stride with him as he passed.

“Why haven’t you killed Raum,” he asked, his eyes never leaving the treeline at the edge of the forest ahead.

Whisper didn’t even flinch at the question.

“We kill monsters. We don’t kill everything that appears monstrous. You’re friend is loved, that much is obvious. If she is as innocent as she first appears, she has nothing to fear from us. We will protect her, just like any other innocent.”

She paused her step, putting a hand on his chest to stop him walking as she turned to face him a few steps ahead.

“But understand that the world outside this forest will not take kindly to her. She will be a pariah at best. To others, a monster to kill without question. She is not safe, anywhere we take her. Do not trust others for her safety.”

“I understand.”

“You think you do.”

With that, Whisper turned and continued to walk towards the treeline, where she met up with Lawbrin and Raum. Baodan kept moving slowly, but followed behind.

Lawbrin took a backpack from beside himself and handed it to Baodan as he approached.

“This one’s yours,” a smirk threatened Lawbrin’s face.

Baodan shouldered the pack, feeling the weight pull at the muscles of his neck and arms.

“This thing’s heavy.”

“That’s why I’m not carrying it,” said Lawbrin with a small chuckle. 

Before Baodan caught on to the joke, Whisper and Lawbrin were hiking into the woods. Raum followed, a grim expression on her face, but for the slight smile she offered him in thanks for his company on the road.

Baodan started after them, patting Raum on the shoulder reassuringly.

“We’ll survive this, and come home at the end.”

“I don’t think that’s the ending to this story. Somehow, I get the sense that our journey will be worse than we can imagine.”