The Jarl's Son, Chapter 4-2

Guidance, Part 2

---

---

Renald leaned to his right, craning his head as if looking around her body. It seemed a bit silly, considering Gaiur had no body in this place, at least none that she could ever see for herself. Regardless, the talkative arctic fox grimaced at the sight which splayed out before him, then pawed at his nose as he huffed through it.

“I swear I’ll never get used to the stink of nightmares, especially not gruesome ones like this,” he said. “Is this why you called me here, Gaiur?”

Gaiur glanced back over her shoulder, then shook her head. Somewhere deep in her subconscious, it registered without fully registering that she did, in fact, seem to have her body again.

“No,” she said. “The nightmare surprised me. I didn’t expect it to return so soon, but that's not why I called.”

Renald hummed and tilted his head to the side. “You didn’t expect it to return?” he repeated, cocking a single, tiny white eyebrow. “Then you’ve had this nightmare before? How many times?”

Frowning, Gaiur crossed her arms. “I already told you that’s not why I reached out to you.”

“I know that,” Renald said, clearly a little incensed, “but repeat nightmares are an unusual thing and-”

“Enough, Renald,” Gaiur said sternly. “This can wait. I need your help with something more urgent.”

Renald’s black lips curled about his muzzle in something resembling a pout. He grumbled a complaint just quietly enough that Gaiur wouldn’t be able to understand him, then said, “Oh, very well. If you’re sure it can wait, then I’ll wait. So what is it that you do need me for, then?”

Gaiur went on to explain the situation with Erik, making sure she specifically noted her suspicion that he’d been bitten by a shadow adder. That news immediately grabbed Renald’s attention.

“That poor lad,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, if you are right, a boy of his age won’t last long. Shadow adder venom is potent and potentially destructive to the soul.”

“That’s why I need you to confirm if I’m right,” Gaiur replied.

“Of course,” Renald said. “I’ll travel back to the waking world with you. You did remember to open the way for me with that axe of yours, yes?”

Gaiur nodded.

“Good. Haste is of paramount importance. Shadow adder venom kills within a scant few hours of a bite, so we’ll have to move quickly,” Renald said.

“Normally, yes,” Gaiur muttered.

This time, it was Renald’s turn to frown at her. “Normally?” he repeated. “What haven’t you told me, Gaiur?”

“It’s been three months since the boy was bitten,” Gaiur said.

Renald gaped, staring at her with a look of profound disbelief. “three months?” he stammered, and when Gaiur nodded, his shoulders slouched. “Good heavens, that should be impossible! I… I need a moment to process this.”

“Do it as we go, then,” Gaiur said curtly.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Renald said. “Lead the way. I’d very much like to take a look at this lad for myself.”

Back in the waking world, the magic within Gaiur’s axe had given off a fiery warmth, but no light. However, standing at the edge of her recurring nightmare with a dream guide alongside, the effect was very much reversed. Facing into the seemingly infinite dark that stretched beyond the bounds of the dream, Gaiur and Renald both spotted a flickering mote of light not unlike those of the raiders’ flaming arrows at the nightmare’s start. There was only one flame this time, though, a singular flicker that only grew in the sense of a candle being used to light a torch.

They followed that flame out into the sightless, soundless dark. Vast nothingness stretched out in all directions, soon to consume the nightmare they left behind. Only they and the flame remained, a solitary beacon floating at a distance that was indiscernible. Was it near, waiting just within arm’s reach; or far away, like a distant mountain across a wide open plain? Time was equally difficult to parse in this seeming endlessness, as if the space itself had no adherence to it. Thus, their journey paradoxically seemed to take all time, and no time, simultaneously.

Regardless of the mind bending nature of this unreality, these friends from different worlds pressed ever onward, for such was their only option. Soon the candle flicker became a torch’s flicker, and soon after that the flame formed the familiar shape of Gaiur’s axe. It was suspended upright in the nothingness and its blackened steel head gave off a fire’s glow, though the steel itself looked exactly as it had when Gaiur laid it on her lap before falling asleep. The same was true of its braided haft, which conformed itself perfectly to the fit of her hand. No matter which reality she found herself in, this axe would always be hers.

Darkness gave way to light, and silence to sound. To her right, she heard the quiet wheezes of belabored breathing. She opened her eyes, and her vision filled with the sights of Erik’s bedroom and the dusky evening sky that came just after sunset. However, while the room should’ve started to darken with the approaching night, a glow like silvery moonlight emanated from the foot of Erik’s bed.

Slow and quiet, Gaiur stood and rested the haft of her axe in the crook of her neck. Renald was already climbing up on the bed, his vulpine form scaling over the solid oak footrest with ease. Then he crossed the bed and began to inspect the boy, sniffing closely at his blanketed, shivering form. Interestingly, Gaiur noticed that though Renald walked upon the bed’s plush surface, it didn’t sink under his weight. His paws left no impression at all. Perhaps even more impressively, his damp nose occasionally jostled the young boy as he sniffed about, and yet Erik seemed entirely unperturbed, a far cry from his response when Gaiur examined him earlier.

“Well, what do you see?” Gaiur whispered when Renald sat on his haunches on the other side of Erik.

“Unusual hardly begins to describe it,” he murmured. “Everything about the child’s condition tells me he should be long dead by now, at least at first glance.”

Gaiur frowned. Slowly, her gaze drifted away from Renald to Erik. “And past first glances?” she asked.

“That’s where the strange part comes in.” Renald rose up and gingerly crossed over to the side of the bed where Gaiur stood. However, she soon realized he wasn’t crossing to her, but rather coming to Erik’s left. He stopped next to the boy’s left foot, then leaned down and nudged it just enough to reveal the edges of the puckered, purple bite wounds.

Gaiur leaned in closer.

“I thought about what you told me on the journey here,” Renald said. “The possibility crossed my mind that the lad’s condition might be the result of a particularly high resistance to the adder’s venom, but that doesn’t appear to be the case. I also considered the possibility that some other entity might be the culprit, but those bite marks are unmistakable.”

“Do you think the adder left him this way on purpose?” Gaiur asked, but Renald quickly shook his head.

“Not on its own, no. Shadow adders sup on the lingering vitality of recently dead souls. Acting alone, it would have no reason not to go for a kill,” he said.

Gaiur’s mein darkened. The calloused skin on her palm creaked inaudibly as she tightened her grip on the braided haft of her axe. “Something drove it to stop short, then,” she growled, though she was careful to maintain her quiet tone.

“Possibly. We don’t know that for sure just yet,” Renald stressed. “It could also be that something else present stopped the creature from administering a full dose of its venom. You said that someone was with the lad, yes?”

Gaiur nodded. “Marten, his elder brother, but he’s got no sense for the supernatural, nor does their father.”

“Just because he can’t sense it doesn’t mean he can’t influence it. I should very much  like to meet this Marten, just to be sure,” Renald said.

“After we figure out a treatment for the boy,” Gaiur insisted.

“Naturally,” Renald agreed with a chipper yip. It was the first action the dream guide had taken that made the boy stir. “Now then, let’s figure out our options.”

The little fox hummed to himself as he started pacing around Erik’s bed. As before, his footsteps seemed to leave no impressions in the blankets, almost as if he wasn’t there at all. After two rounds about Erik’s body, sniffing and watching all the while, Renald began to muse.

“Given the advanced nature of the bite, ligature is out of the question,” he said, “and you can’t exactly suck out venom that attacks the soul instead of the body. We’ll have to resort to some sort of medicine, then.”

Gaiur rolled her eyes. “I could’ve told you that much,” she grumbled.

The fox looked up at her with a know-it-all’s smirk. She hated when he got that look on his face. “Perhaps so,” he began, “but would you have been able to determine the sorts of plants needed to dull the venom’s effects? Or the materials you’d need to procure to help draw the stuff out from where it has adhered itself to the boy’s soul?”

Gaiur glowered down at him. “I hate when you do that,” she said as he hopped off the bed.

“You’re free to hate it all you like, just so long as you see to the work that needs doing,” Renald replied, his head held up high and proud. “Now then, let’s see if we can’t fetch what we need. Perhaps you can introduce me to this Marten fellow along the way.”

Raising an eyebrow as the dream guide sauntered his way over to the door, Gaiur sharply cleared her throat. It was an action she quickly regretted when it drew a pained groan from the restlessly sleeping child.

“Where are you going?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

Renald cocked his head to one side as he regarded her. “To fetch supplies so we can help the boy. Didn’t I just say that?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave the little fox an incredulous look. “You’re not going anywhere,” she stated curtly. Renald, of course, was quick to protest this, but Gaiur deftly shut him down. “This city’s first sight of me was with a giant wolf at my heel and a bone-white raven perched on my shoulder. That’s more than reason enough for these people to be suspicious of me. How do you think they’ll react if I wander their streets with a glowing, talking fox at my side?”

“I see. Well, you make a good argument. Very well, I’ll wait here and keep watch over the lad,” Renald said, though by the lowering of both his tone and his bushy tail, Gaiur could tell it didn’t please him to make this acquiescence.

Pleased or not, she was glad for his cooperation. The last thing she needed to be doing was attempting to explain the presence of an even more unusual animal in her company. Varro and Hunin were strange enough on their own, and frightening enough, in the case of her lupine companion. She didn’t want to invite any more suspicion than she already had.

Their discussion then turned to the supplies they’d need. It was an esoteric list, a mixture of items both sensible and seemingly senseless. Some of the requests were simple and vague, treatments for pain and fever and whatever other physical ailments the shadow adder’s venom caused. Nettle, chamomile, and nutmeg would do well for that, and Gaiur could likely find those in the hands of a local læknir. Doubtless, a city as sizable as Halvfjord would be home to at least one woman who had knowledge of herb lore.

The more unusual requests came in more numerous forms. Some, like the fresh cut branch of a birch sapling, would be fairly easy to acquire. Gaiur saw numerous white birch trees growing in Ostock Forest as she passed through earlier in the day. Finding a sapling to trim would simply be a matter of time. Even with its name not being literal, however, the bundles of troll’s hair Renald requested would be a far more challenging find. She’d seen the plant before, a kind of stringy moss that resembled tufts of thick and wiry black and green hair. The problem was that troll’s hair liked to grow near lakes and rivers, and almost never grew anywhere else. The chances of Gaiur finding it around Halvfjord were scant at best. She might get lucky and find that among a læknir’s various herbs and spices as well, but she highly doubted she’d be that fortunate.

The last item was the most unusual of them all, though. “A clear crystal, the most pristine you can find, and it needs to be at least half the size of your palm,” Renald said.

Gaiur frowned, annoyed and admittedly a little impressed that the fox somehow managed to be strangely specific and vexingly vague at the same time. “What sort of crystal?” she asked.

“Any sort will do, so long as it’s of the proper size and pristine in its clarity. Why, even a gemstone would work so long as it meets those specifications,” Renald said.

Gaiur thought about that. During her brief time spent in Jarl Ostock’s house she’d caught glimpses of the man’s various treasures. Some of the more ostentatious pieces she’d seen housed glittering gemstones, though she wasn’t sure if any of them were of the correct size. Still, it was worth checking into, if only for the possibility that it might make a difficult search that much easier. She suggested the idea to Renald, sure that she could convince the Jarl to part with one of his treasures if it was made clear why and how doing so might help to save his son.

Renald was all too happy to explain. According to him, the three pieces she was meant to gather were to act as a lure and snare of sorts. The sapling branch would allow them to separate adder’s venom from Erik’s soul like fat to be skimmed from the top of a broth, while a weave of troll’s hair moss would allow them to do the skimming. The crystal was to serve as the vessel for what came out, trapping that shadowy stuff within its confines so that it could be destroyed. Gaiur struggled to buy into the particulars of Renald’s analogy, but it was good enough for her to understand the basics of his plan.

“I’ll speak to Jarl Ostock about the gem tonight, then search for the moss and the sapling in the morning,” she said.

“And the medicinals for when the lad awakens?” Renald asked.

“So long as I can find a læknir, I should be able to find those tonight as well,” Gaiur replied.

Renald nodded. “Very good,” he said as he hopped back up onto the bed. He sat on his haunches at the foot of it. “Very good indeed.”

Slipping her axe back into the sling on her back, Gaiur carefully and quietly made for the door that led back out into the dining hall. However, before she could close her fingers around the latch and step outside, Renald called to her with one more question.

“What’s his name?” he asked. “I apologize for asking so late. We’ve been so wrapped up in figuring out how to treat the lad’s illness that I’d completely forgotten to.”

She froze where she stood. The same hard lump she’d already felt many times today returned to her throat once more, and she felt her heart grow tight. Hours had passed since her arrival, and in all that time she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to utter that name. It was too close, it hurt too much, and yet she knew she couldn’t avoid it forever.

“What was that?” Renald asked in response to the little sound she’d made. It was a sorry attempt at doing what she hadn’t yet managed.

Closing her eyes, Gaiur’s fingers squeezed into fists so tight that her fingernails drew droplets of blood from her palms. Then she took a deep breath and, with a quivering exhale, she finally said, “Erik.”

Then, with tears streaming down her face, she faced Renald and said it again. “His name is Erik.”

Thank you for reading.
The Jarl’s Son sees Gaiur the Valdunite return to embark on a new adventure and acts as the follow-up to my dark fantasy mystery tale, In the Giant’s Shadow. The previous story isn’t required reading to understand and enjoy this tale, but doing so will enhance the experience.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter