The Ring Thief - Chapter 10 - The Tale of Icarus

 Taenith’s words may have momentarily killed the noise - the insults, lectures, and disappointed speeches - that normally settled there. That is, until the burning logs’ snaps became a chorus of cackles, and the serpentine embers: faces of his peers - all laughing at him. 

         “You will never be one of us. Never,” they cackled in harmony.

         “Never,” a new voice boomed. And soon, erupting from the cacophonous flames was the stoic form of his adoptive father.  

         “Father…I-I,” Grizzel choked, folding his hands together below his trembling chin. Even with his eyes closed, he struggled to ignore the presence before him. The flames stung his flesh, boiling his retinas with a cursed reminder that he would never be alone.

         “My son.”

         “Leave,” he whispered through grit teeth, trying to imagine the plains; anything to think of something other than his failures.

         “I love you,” the Grand Paladin spoke softly. Grizzel could feel his father’s hand gently pressed against his shoulder. The heat removed the stress from his body, and reminded him of the beaches of Kingswatch, and the sweet moments when his father would take him for strolls by the harbor. Flashes of iced treats, laughter and candies blinded the thoughts he desperately clung to for solace - the faces of his recent friends. The images of Han’s annoyed face and Taenith’s signature grimace were replaced with an illustration of their corpses - dead and bloodied by his own hand. Han’s form was gored and split open by the beast of the wilderness, while Taenith’s suffered a similar fate, probably from some future sin of Grizzel’s own making. Seeing this made his skin crawl and his chest ache. It was a feeling he was too familiar with.

         Guilt.

         “Go away!” Grizzel seethed, biting his tongue and clenching his hands together to the point they became paler than a ghost’s.

         Exhaling and inhaling deeply, he finally opened his eyes. To his surprise, there was nothing before him. No more father. No more mocking apostles. Just the crackling hearth in front of him.

         That, and an old bearded man reading a book in the chair next to him. As soon as he realized it was Ohen, Grizzel’s eyes shot open, and his cheeks flushed red.

         “H-how long have you been sitting there?!” Grizzel blurted. Ohen didn’t respond. Instead, he gently shut the leather-wrapped novel in his hands. Then, raised the steaming cup of green tea resting in between his legs to his lips - and took a sip.  

         “Oh, not long,” he sighed. “I checked on Han to make sure he’s still alive. Then I figured I’d read a few pages before the others got back.”

         Sham glanced at the book sitting in his lap and frowned. “A bit dry though if you ask me. Not one of Ulanid’s best works.” 

         Grizzel could feel his brow twitch and his skin inflame as he stared the wizard down. Was he really talking about a book right now? How much did he see...hear? Did he even care? All those questions and more pursed at the front of his mind as he clenched the arms of his chair with his ghostly hands. 

Noticing his squirming, Sham shifted his chair with surprising ease so he could better face the apostle. “Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any,” Sham said, rubbing his neck. “I know you were going to leave your friend for dead. And it's obvious you regret your lie. So now I suppose that guilt is settling in.”

Grizzel averted his attention to the fireplace. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” he muttered. His entire body froze, leaving not even enough motion in his hands to grasp his mace.

Ohen leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together. He stared into the apostle’s blood-shot eyes.

The look on Ohen’s wrinkled face only further electrified Grizzel’s fear and embarrassment. His eyes burned a bright yellow like his father’s, but they were absent of the blissful comfort that the latter usually provided him. In the mage’s features he saw nothing but a monster of a man. His wrinkles were not weathered weakness, but rather, battle scars noting the men he had slain. His beard too, was not grown from age, but from the time he spent concocting killing spells tirelessly developed in his tower where he held the charred skulls of his victims.

“Grizzel,” Sham tapped his foot, snapping the apostle back to reality. He thought of a way to encourage Grizzel’s interest. Maybe a story would do.

“Have you ever heard the tale of Icarus?” he asked.

Grizzel thought for a moment, still clearly shaken. He’d only heard of the god in name. Back at the academy. He and the other apostles were generally discouraged from learning about the Chaos deities. So, it wasn’t exactly general knowledge. 

“No,” he said. 

         Sham sighed, “I suppose I’m not surprised. It’s not a subject most apostles are familiar with these days.” Sham leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of the best way to begin his story. When he was ready, he took a breath and let his years of experience roll off his tongue. 

“In the beginning, there were no Chaos or Law deities like the ones you know. They were simply the Twelve. And among those Twelve, Icarus was the youngest. He was also the weakest, a fact he despised. From the dawn of time to the creation of the mortal realms, his self loathing festered until it became a cancer. Jealousy consumed his mind. He even set out to kill his closest brother, the greatest of the gods, just to prove himself worthy.” Ohen paused, taking a sip of tea.

         “What happened?” Grizzel’s brows furled. The old man’s words felt heretical, but he couldn’t help but find himself intrigued.

Ohen set his cup down. “Now, there are eleven gods.”

Grizzel thought for a moment, trying to discern meaning from the story. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice but a whisper.

         “Because I know what you’re going through. I’ve been around long enough to see it countless times from others exactly like you. Even Tex has struggled with it,” he said, furrowing his brows. “Cruel self judgment can consume you and leave nothing left, just like it did Icarus. Don’t let it consume you too, less you become what you hate most.”

Grizzel’s tongue was swollen with silence at that moment. Even his mind, which had moments ago been buzzing, was left a numb mound of flesh under the pressured words of the wizard. He wanted to believe Sham was right. Truly… Possibly. But if he was, why was there still a tugging at his heart telling him he was wrong? It was as though he could still feel his father’s metal hand wrapped around his heart, squeezing him back to the reality he had always known.

“We are the chosen, my son. Above all else, never forget this.”

Before Grizzel could ponder on those old words, he could hear footsteps coming from the stairs below. Shattering the conversation between the two, Taenith and Tex had finally emerged from the darkness of the armory to join them.

Sham looked up to Tex for a moment and grinned. Her face was slightly red, but she carried less anger than before. Clearly they had talked, and this satisfied him. After all, she was still young. Her hot head needed to be cooled by friendship. Just like Taenith’s.  

“Well. It’s about time you two came back,” Sham said. “We don’t have long before they start searching the guild towers.”

“Did you get your magic ball?” Tex asked, ignoring his remarks.

Sham’s smile twisted into a frown at her question. Always to the point Tex was. For better or worse.

“Yes…well, we need to talk about that,” he said.

Tex raised a brow. “Don’t tell me you lost that too.”

“No. No.” Sham chuckled as he withdrew a spherical object from beneath his robes. To Taenith, it didn’t look particularly special. It was just a large blue marble with slight star-like whisps splashed about its interior. In many ways, it just reminded him as an oversized version of the invisibility trinkets they’d used earlier.

“I was able to find where the trail ends. But-” Sham paused.

Taenith looked to Grizzel for a moment, but the apostle simply shrugged. Whatever had the wizard worried, neither of them understood.

“Spit it out. We don’t have all day,” Tex ordered.

“...Very well,” Sham sighed. “It leads to-” he began. But before he could finish, a thunderous knock cracked at the door. It was followed by the sound of twisting and crumpling metal, and in seconds, everyone’s ears were pounding as a wave of intense heat and debris exploded towards them.