CHAPTER 1.24 - RETURN TO HIGHBARROW: THAE
Thae trails at the rear of the party. Rian, thankfully, took over care of Erin and Joral. They are too young to travel the distance to Highbarrow under their own power, and Thae could not possibly carry them – particularly since they need at all times to be within arm’s reach of one other. Thae smiles, watching the huge man carrying the boy tucked into his arm like a baby while his sister perches on his shoulders. Rian is quiet by nature but still provides entertainment for the youngsters. Currently, Erin is giggling quietly as both she and the woodsman have a hand on the pike, using it like a walking stick. Rian is playing things straight, apparently serious but carefully ensuring that the pike’s movements are exaggerated enough to thrill the girl. He stops short of scaring or endangering her.
Thae marvels at the man’s hidden depths. Rian comes across as socially inept but then shows himself to be thoughtful. Liberating goblins, in their own language? Still, the information the woodsman uncovered raised more questions than it answers. Graasht, apparently, was screaming about flaying the group for his god. Glorp was of no help, the goblin shrugging and cursing bugbears as though that answered everything. Thae’s own education was sorely, understandably, limited when it came to goblinoid deities.
Still more confusing were the bones. Those goblins were certainly trying to set fire to the pile, apparently under Fruk’s orders. Hugo had speculated something to do with the word bonfire, like they were intending a literal bone-fire, but this was sheer guesswork. Fruk’s direction of the ritual could indicate it was a con, another means to persuade the bugbear of his importance. Another attempt to secure his position. Thae worries there might be something deeper, some abomination demanded by Graasht’s unknown god.
The thought summons Mother Sofia to mind, unbidden. Unwelcome. Immediately, Thae feels guilty of disrespect. ‘It is my own guilt, it is my own pettiness to consider Sofia in the same thought as that monster. It is my own fault.”
To hear Glorp tell it, Brog was a good leader. Venal, corrupt, easily swayed by any fleeting notion. The kind of man, or goblin, to have a passing thought and make it their entire personality. At least, for as long as the thought persisted. Scary that this was sufficient for Glorp to consider Brog ‘good’. Thae’s guilt pangs, a sin demanding reparation. No, Mother Sofia was not that kind of leader. A treacherous thought responds: “quite the opposite; once Sofia made up her mind, nothing would shift her.” Thae tries to shut the voice down, but it carries on, dripping poison: “No matter how wrong she was.”
Thae shifts the hobgoblin’s shield uncomfortably, embarrassed by the outward manifestation of guilt that caused the shoulder muscle to twinge. Scans the others, face reddening. Thankfully everyone seems absorbed in their own thoughts, oblivious of this meltdown. Goddess, even the shield is a testament to Thae’s failure.
Hugo’s investigation did turn up enchanted items, but the hobgoblin’s gear was completely mundane. Thae grimaces, emotions twisting further. “The blame is mine. The near catastrophe? Mine. My fault. My failure. This shield is a shield – for my feelings.” The last recrimination mimics Sofia’s tone.
Thae was the very definition of a foundling. Left at the temple doors as a baby in a basket. No name, no background, nothing but a mongrel’s pointed ears and a blanket. A blanket, Thae thinks, that was immediately taken. Sofia’s voice again: “He will not need it; he has his temple.” Her decision final, unquestioned. Slamming down like a portcullis. Likewise, any time Thae or any of the other foundling novices dared to enquire about their origins, their lives before (for those who had any). “You have parents: Your Goddess and your temple.”
So determined, so certain of the correct path. And did it protect Thae from walking away any more than Brog’s approach protected his tribe from Graasht? Thae begins to mutter a prayer to the Goddess, begging for a fraction of her wisdom, cuts it off in a crisis of faith.
“I left the temple like a thief. I broke my oath…” The traitorous voice slips in “…to Sofia.” It feels like a sneer, Thae’s mind slipping away to something more factual, less dangerous. Thae could not join in with the rest of the group’s initial assault. Just a fact. It would have ruined any chance of surprise they might have had. This does not feel any better.
In the time it took to arrive, Rian could already have been killed, one man pitted against a pair of monsters. “Not like my appearance shifted the balance, either.” Hence the shield. In the hands of a skilled opponent, it might as well be a wall. With chagrin, Thae squares the shield again. “If I am supposed to be a protector, I had better protect.” The ‘saviour’ had needed saving.
Thae’s eyes swing to Anuk, who seems to be propelling herself through the forest by her anger alone. Hopes that none of it is on account of the woman having to rescue Thae. She had dismissed Thae’s best efforts to apologise. Still, even in her best moments she projects a simmering vat of rage. It appears from the outside as though Anuk’s bitterness leaves little room for all of this self-doubt. Could that be enviable?
Again, Thae’s mind jumps to Sofia. Sofia at their last meeting. The meeting which crystallised the need to leave. That might be arbitrary, though. Almost any instance of Sofia’s ire against Thae could have served. To the point that some of the specifics soften, blur into oft-repeated mantras. “Do you have any faith at all, child?” Of course. “Faith to your Goddess?” Of course. “Faith to your Temple?” Of course. And always and forever her title is another portcullis slamming down. Of course, Mother Sofia.
Thae’s mind rebels: how can the worship of a Goddess of wisdom be whittled down to some inflexible, dogmatic ‘follow this interpretation of the rules?’ A literal ‘Mother says it is so.’ Even expressed more obliquely, more diplomatically to Sofia, Thae’s appeals brooked zero consideration.
Thae tries to choke an audible sigh. Not that the woman was unkind…in her own way. The Mother, as always, complimented Thae’s commitment, Thae’s aptitudes, both for healing and for combat. She did, however, always have to add the stinger. “But despite your talents, despite your worth, you are a servant, Thae.”
Thae’s response, definitively from the last discussion, was that this was service. It felt audacious to say, even though Thae meant every word passionately. But it may as well have been a thrown punch to Sofia’s eye. “You speak to me of service? You DARE?! How many times have you found yourself here? How many times, Thae?” Of course, there could be no response to this, no retort that would not fuel the fire. But Sofia needed no response, her anger stoked, her last patience perpetually exceeded. Thae’s cheeks burn as the memory of the discourse falls back onto the same track as ever. “You dare to speak of service and yet you serve only yourself.” Despite how galling this is, Thae cannot – and never could – retort. Sofia could never know that Thae, without wishing to betray her, had a larger focus. A greater responsibility.
“And to think that I saw such potential in you. Do you think any of the other Acolytes is as familiar as you are with the chambers of the Mother Superior?” As if Thae would not much rather have slipped under Sofia’s gaze, even in the before times. She was not incorrect, although Thae would argue that her focus, whatever her intention, felt like a punishment. The Mother holds herself to an impossible standard, as might any mortal in such proximity to the divine. In the place of the divine? Thae dismisses the unworthy thought. Aspiring to perfection herself, it was natural that Sofia’s ‘support’ of Thae was to compulsively, microscopically, criticise and demand better. ‘Better.’
It would be easy, crassly so, to decide that Sofia’s position has perverted her values. Gone to her head. She is, after all, the second-in-command of the Temple of the Goddess. But Thae is neither so callous nor so blind as to believe that. One side effect of proximity to the Mother, as unwelcome as this was to Thae, was a clear understanding of how constant and crushing her responsibilities were. In some ways, Thae might have been spared some pain as her attention was required everywhere, all the time, all at once.
And not that the shadows beneath Sofia’s wings were exclusively negative. Thae was never strong enough to be chosen for the martial caste of the Temple, despite a keen interest in their duties. And despite this Thae was accepted, without question, to be trained equally in healing and combat. Orest, the Fighting Master, had not required even the mention of Sofia’s name to welcome the young acolyte. Of course, Thae attributed that to how commonly known it was that the Mother had a keen interest in said lowly servant. The blessing of the gruelling martial drills allowed Thae to exist in the moment, in the simplicity of physical exertion. This blessing was twinned, as they also allowed Thae the peace, the silence, to plan.
In Thae’s understanding of other deities’ holy tracts, most tend to make a big fuss over serving a single master. For Thae, that lack of complication always seemed extremely attractive. Combat training always allowed Thae the clarity to navigate disparate instructions. To formulate the best approach. Or at least, deniably so. Sofia would never be happy with anything but total obedience to her priorities, to her interpretation of their faith. At the least, it provided Thae with a chance to choose battles. Or at least to choose consequences.
And in truth, those were realistically lesser than most in Thae’s position would have received. Then again, the Mother’s attention was never so often upon those others. Thae sighs. It is impossible to think so far around the topic of responsibilities without dwelling on the recent abandoning of a range of them.
True, the Temple needs little in the way of protection. True, Thae was guarding the least used gate on the temple wall. Guarding one of the safest locations in the city felt like make-work. But, says the treacherous voice, it was make-work you were given. And again, Thae is plunged into the hell of disobeying a superior’s orders. And of how impossible it would be to tell the head of one’s sacred order that you were following someone else’s instructions entirely. Or to explain that you always would. It stinks.
Phew, it really does stink. Thae returns to the present. They are approaching the horrible pit of goblin corpses. Attention flicking to Rian, Thae is relieved that the children have fallen asleep in the big man’s care. A quick check of Anuk, guilty given Thae’s recent lack of focus on guarding the group’s rear, evidences the woman still angrily slogging along. She seems consumed by her own thoughts; nose wrinkled at the stink of decay into which they are walking. Hugo is no more present. Still fiddling with Fruk’s magic ring, twiddling it on his finger as he has been since they left Filthstink Cavern.
As they skirt around, Thae’s gaze keeps pulling to the corpses, some detail sitting off kilter. Notes Rian, now past the pit, looking back. The man looks equally bothered by something more than the stink. Of course the bodies look as though they have shifted, the pit looks fuller than before. Bloating, the gases of decay, nature’s inevitable processes make death less static than the layperson might suspect
An uninspected edge of that thought twists inside Thae’s mind. Oh no. Looking back to the stragglers, forming a warning too slow to be of use, Thae sees Hugo raise his ringed finger and point at the pile. Then the pit is bathed in an orange glow as the halfling produces the effect Fruk had used to harry and injure Anuk earlier today.
Time slows further as Thae sees the look of horror on Rian’s face, the man’s obvious indecision how to react. Thae tries to shout: “Save the children!” Words are too slow and unwieldy in this frozen moment.
And then frozen moments seem like a lost luxury as everything slides further into chaos.
