I've been working fairly effectively on writing lately, so I actually have the next chapter ready already now. After my own not-so-pleasant encounter with Keltarh and his spiritual guardian, I return to camp and the three of us return to the road to resume our journey. However, then we suddenly encounter a rather unique person who seems to have information about a familiar person we know. I hope you'll enjoy this 65th chapter of Medieval Cohesion, and I shall get back to my writing!

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Chapter 65 - St. Marianna's Cathedral

The journey back to camp was long, tedious and painful. I wanted to keep my promise of returning before dawn, but it was hopeless. Sparks of throbbing agony passed through my ribs with every step taken, so there was no other choice but to walk at whatever pace I felt comfortable with. The sun had already risen, turning the sky into a gradient wonder of yellow, orange and blue. Birds were chirping from high above, leaving the branches in flight to greet a new glorious day. A hunch told me that we had better enjoy every sunrise that we were granted to witness, because with the dark ages approaching, none of us were guaranteed to have many of them left. It was not uncommon for me to make sure that I awoke early in the morning just to watch the dawn from the high treetops, and I didn't want to miss out on this one either. However, it was nearly impossible to enjoy anything at all, when it felt like my chest was about to burst every time I inhaled too much air into my lungs. The pressure pressed against my damaged ribs from within and the agony kept my mind prevented from focusing on anything positive for long. People seem to have the impression that I am always jolly and cheerful, but it honestly doesn't take much pain and frustration to put a damper on my optimism. Despite my challenged attempts of breathing, I was still able to sense the refreshing scent of the woods in the morning. The woods were lightly misty, leaving behind trails of dew on every leaf. The air I inhaled into my lungs was quite humid, and once the many branches made contact with my body, I felt the moisture cling to my exposed fur. My walk could only be accomplished, however, by depending on much support from leaning onto the new staff I acquired from Keltarh's den.

The delay was regrettable, but at least I made it back in one piece, more or less. Once I pushed my way through the bushes and entered the camp, I found Zephyr fully awake, busy extinguishing what remained of the flames in the fireplace. It seemed like he had cleaned and tidied the whole place so that no one could see that we had been here, but why was he dealing with these tasks? He was wounded and needed rest. Once our eyes met, I expected him to say something but he just greeted me with a nod. He quickly realized that the need for silence confused me, so he directed my attention towards the wooden log where Paul was sitting, sleeping and snoring loudly in the very same position he was supposed to be on guard throughout the night. It'd would seem like we had found yet another responsibility that couldn't be entrusted to Paul. I could see it in Zephyr's eyes that he urged me to be sympathetic and let the rabbit sleep. However, Zephyr could see it in my own eyes that I was in no mood to let him get away with such irresponsible idleness. I limbed over to him and didn't stop before I was standing right in front of the lazy loafer, sleeping deeply without a single worry in the world. Oh, how I'd love to wake him with a good whack from my new staff, but no - That would be much too violent. The staff could take damage if it struck Paul's thick head. I supposed it'd be better to pick an alternate method of teaching him a lesson, so I slowly leaned closer before shouting into his ear.

Sinqularis: To arms! Zervas' troops found us! They are everywhere!
Paul: Ayieee! Where? Where!? Let me at 'em!

The rabbit awoke instantly and jumped from his seat, clumsily pacing back and forth in the camp at a high speed, fighting invisible enemies while his mind was still semi-trapped in sleep. I left Paul to his state of panic and snorted, before turning around and heading back to Zephyr. The fruit bat shook his head resignedly, but despite that I went against his unspoken suggestion, he couldn't help it but to pull off a little smile.

Sinqularis: Good for nothing dork...
Zephyr: Feeling any better?
Sinqularis: A little bit.
Zephyr: That's a nice staff you got there. Did Keltarh give it to you?
Sinqularis: Yeah, along with a major beating.
Zephyr: Are you serious? I... You should've brought me along!
Sinqularis: Don't worry, Zephyr. Keltarh and I just had a minor disagreement that we had to settle.
Zephyr: If you say so, but still...
Sinqularis: Enough about me. Please inform me about how your recovery is progressing.
Zephyr: It actually seems like the wounds are mending quite well. The salves you made must've made wonders. Look for yourself.

Zephyr arched his chest and threw his head back as he unfolded his glorious wings before my eyes, creating a breeze that pushed my long hair away from my shoulders and over onto my back. I approached him slowly while my eyes scrolled to examine every part of his majestically exposed wings. It was miraculously amazing - the torn skin between his wing bones had mended quite nicely. There were still visible scars left behind, but after having endured such a brutal violation, it could only be expected that they'd remain even long after he had fully recovered. Standing close to Zephyr, I observed his wings with my jaw slightly dropped, raising my one hand to touch him carefully. My fingers slid across the almost transparent patches of skin that had mended together, as a cautious attempt of examining if it triggered sparks of pain. Zephyr watched me closely but didn't seem to react. There was no sign of soreness, but by the grace of Gaia, the new skin was supremely thin and delicate like a fine piece of silk. The wings looked great but they were not ready for flight. The pressure of air was bound to penetrate these frail patches of skin and have him come crashing down with the wounds torn open again. While I was examining Zephyr's wings, Paul slowed down and send me a skeptic look. Perhaps he was finally starting to realize that he had been victimized by a crude prank. However, he decided to remain quiet and not create any fuss about it, possibly because his few functional brain cells were capable of figuring out what provoked it to take place.

Sinqularis: It looks marvelous, Zephyr, but you must remain patient. It'll still be a while before your wings are ready for flight.
Zephyr: Say no more, I know. I'll make sure to be careful.
Sinqularis: Anyhow, it looks like we are pretty much ready to leave.
Zephyr: Yeah, let's hit the road before those troops from Jibanon manage to track us down. We've lingered around here long enough.
Sinqularis: Agreed. Once we've had our breakfast, we'll be on our way.
Paul: Uhhh...
Zephyr: Paul. Where's the grub?
Paul: Yeah, about that...
Sinqularis: Are you really going to tell us that you spent all night hunting in the woods, and you returned back with absolutely nothing?
Paul: Would an apology get me anywhere?
Sinqularis: Gahh! I swear, you wouldn't survive one bloody week in the wilderness on your own. Come Zephyr, we're going...

What on earth had gotten into me? It was unusual for me to be so edgy and constantly finding it necessary to calm myself down by counting down to ten. Paul is a great fighter and probably carry out his profession as a knight just fine, but his many shortcomings were really getting on my nerves lately. Perhaps my increasing hunger was what made me so grumpy. Nevertheless, the three of us left the woods during the early morning with our stomachs empty. Before heading back to the road, we adjusted our route to pass through an area rich with trees that we noticed had thick plums growing on their branches, hoping to restore our degrading metabolisms with anything we could harvest. Our efforts were quite in vain, however, since most of the plums had already been semi-devoured by various types of insects. To make matters worse, we were forced to surrender the remaining plums to a swarm of wasps that had been attracted by the sweet juice leaking from the rotting plums on the ground. They were buzzing aggressively around our group and pulled off effective attempts of intimidating us by flying dangerously close to our faces. Zephyr and I were particularly reluctant about approaching those trees, because we were afraid of stepping on rotten plums full of wasps feeding on the pulp inside. Our lack of footwear should make my point self explanatory. When it comes to the natural struggle for food, it's not unusual that the smallest of competitors are the hardest to deal with.

Once we had agreed to accept the bitter defeat of not acquiring any food by hunt or foraging, we left the woods with empty stomachs and returned to the road from which we came, adjusting our route so that it would lead us back towards Jibanon. Truth be told, we hadn't exactly hatched a new and decisive plan regarding how we intended to cross the sea. Our main priority throughout the last few days had been to heal up and keep our heads down until the trouble we stirred up in Jibanon had subsided. It was necessary to hide until the troops gave up searching for us and the roads once again became safe to traverse. The three of us were in for quite a trek down the gravelly road, and neither Zephyr or I were able to move at a fast pace. We had plenty of time to shape our plan and contemplate the next move, but it wasn't leading anywhere. With every vessel burned to the ground, the situation looked so grim that good suggestions were scarce. Pessimistic as it may sound, I was actually starting to wonder if the undead forces already sealed their victory by sabotaging our access to the ocean and if we were just wasting our time by still thinking that there were traces of hope left for us to find. It felt like everything was obscured by a haze of uncertainty at the moment. There was not even any guarantee that Wesley and the others were still alive. It was solely my faith in Gaia that prevented me from abandoning all hope at this point, because I was convinced that the planet would see the relevance in keeping that fox alive at all cost, even if he hadn't devoted himself to the earth like we have. Our cultural convictions may differ, but in the end, we all strive for the same ultimate salvation.

The road lead us into a wide and open area with plenty of fields, clearly being in use by local farmers. It seemed like they attempted to grow corn at the fields, but the crops were withered and long dead. The recent raids of undead might've kept the farmers too occupied to harvest their crops in time, or perhaps the owners of these fields were among the unfortunate victims that were slain. I only had my theories to rely on here. Even if we miraculously found a way to survive this apocalyptic showdown, it looks like the citizens of Zalsaroth are heading into dark times that are guaranteed to claim even more lives. If the fields go unattended and all the crops are lost, the survivors from the approaching war will find it very challenging to make it through the next winter. To fully comprehend the magnitude of this situation, one must understand that being cut down in battle is not the only threat connected with the invasion of the undead empire. The whole army of undead drags a tail of decomposition and decay into the lands of the living, destroying everything in its wake. Corpses will litter every nook and cranny to rot, plants will shrivel up and wither, wildlife will retreat to every little oasis of life that remains on earth before being smothered by the darkness surrounding them. What is left behind, is a barren wasteland proceeding beyond the horizon, corrupted plains that will no longer nurture a seed to sprout.

Such dark thoughts cloud my mind - it doesn't suit me the slightest. I attempted to force myself into a more optimistic mood by focusing my mind on something more positive, but the only comforting thing I could think of was that our journey had been carried out in complete silence so far. Even after having traversed the road for approximately an hour, no word had been spoken. Paul was probably embarrassed about his failed responsibility of bringing food for breakfast, or at the very least, he should be. I know from experience that I had better keep my mouth shut when I am so grouchy and hungry, because I wouldn't want to snap at anyone or hurt their feelings. Then it works much better for me if I can just gather my thoughts in a state of serenity. I just needed a little time to calm down, cheer up and take a few deep breaths of air. However, once I put that plan into motion, it was quickly disrupted as my nostrils inhaled a very grotesque odor that made my eyes teary. It was the easily identifiable stench of rot and decay. Something had definitely died somewhere around here. Perhaps it was an early warning that undead troops were nearby. I could see it in the eyes of Paul and Zephyr that they were alerted by this stench too, but then the silence was broken by the low sound of wheels grinding into the gravel up ahead. We raised our sights and saw a small horse wagon coming towards us, pulled by only a single stallion. The stallion was occasionally whipped lightly across the back by the leather straps held by the man riding the horse wagon, being a sinister-looking person draped by black robes. He also wore a black hat with shade that kept his eyes hidden while he leaned forward in his seat. The stench seemed to be significantly amplified as he came closer. Just before passing us by, he suddenly stopped the wagon and turned his head to examine us. A freshly picked straw was locked between his lips.


??? : You're not from around here, are you?
Sinqularis: Quite right. Now who are you?
??? : Isn't it obvious? Why, I am the undertaker from Kamadrone, a small town only a few hours journey away from here. The name is Mortimer, but many just call me Mort for short.
Zephyr: An undertaker? Never heard of that before.
Mortimer: Agh, foreigners. You guys are definitely not from around here. My job is to remove the corpses of the diseased from my town, prepare their earthly remains and offer them a proper burial. As you can see, I’ve got plenty of work in my luggage.

The so called “undertaker” raised his hand and pointed over the shoulder with his thumb, directing our attention to the contents of his wagon, and then we instantly found the source of the atrocious stench. Piles of corpses were stacked inside the wagon, closely pursued by a large swarm of flies. I raised my free hand to cover my mouth and nose, trying to block out the traumatizing reek of death. Paul coughed. Every corpse wore the same bloodstained clothes or armor that they used the moment that they died, and the fatal wounds revealed that none of them suffered a natural death. They had been slain in a recent battle, but from what I could tell, the pile consisted of both guards and peasants. A woman with long greasy hair was crammed into the pile close to the top, staring directly at me with her eyes still left open. There was grime under her nails and blood was pooling in her palm. I could only imagine what horror was the last thing those eyes gazed upon before her life was taken. The torn remains of her clothes seemed to be made of rough wool or some type of linen, suggesting that she belonged to the lower class of this society. Even if she was naught but a humble peasant, her natural beauty must've been fit for a queen. How tragic to see such a fine maiden become victim of such brutality. There was something deeply revolting about this experience that made my stomach turn. What used to be intelligent individuals with thoughts, feelings and unique personalities had now been reduced to a large heap of rotting flesh. It seemed like a highly undignified manner to handle the fallen, but since the death rate increases significantly during war, I suppose there was no time or space to arrange a greater ceremony for every lost soul slain in battle. It made me wonder, will the history of Zalsaroth even take note of these people, or will they just be documented as an anonymous number of casualties?

Sinqularis: That is downright horrible and depressing... how can you even make a living out of this?
Mortimer: After having been trapped in the tendrils of this business for so long, you learn to shut your emotions completely down so that they won't become a hurdle for you to cross at work. The only downside is that it also reduces my sense of empathy and compassion, leaving me socially impaired when interacting with the living.
Zephyr: Is it really common for you to transport... so many dead?
Mortimer: No, Sir. These fine folks were the victims of the last raid of undead units attempting to destroy the town of Kamadrone. Smaller towns like these have much lighter defenses, which means a higher rate of civilian casualties. The surviving residents are evacuating the town as we speak, however, and should seek refuge in a much more fortified city sometime soon. They'll probably go for the city of Barrowmere, because it is the closest and most convenient place to visit.
Sinqularis: And yet, we find you riding the opposite direction, completely alone. Shouldn't you have brought some companions along?
Mortimer: Undertakers like myself have no friends, Sir, it is a profession that carries the curse of forced solitude. Few desires the company of one who reeks of death. Don't bother worrying about me though, my fate won't affect much on the greater scale.
Sinqularis: Huh...
Paul: Right. Please inform us, have you seen anything unusual or suspicious on your way from Kamadrone that would be worth mentioning? We're just looking for clues.

The undertaker pondered for a moment and seemed very thoughtful. The straw trapped between his lips switched from left to right.

Mortimer: Nope, can't say I have. Sorry.
Paul: It figures. Let's move along, guys...
Mortimer: Oh, wait a minute - It may not be of great import, but I did come across this brooding fellow on the way, seemingly a wizard judged by the dark mantle he wore. He didn't even bother to respond when I greeted him. You probably won't believe this, but this is the best part - He was a ring-tailed lemur. I thought that species had gone extinct by now.
Zephyr: I got a hunch that is our brooding lemur.
Mortimer: Your lemur?
Paul: Yeah, he is one of us, and we'd better catch him before he wanders off to somewhere else. Can you tell us where he went?
Mortimer: I thought he was heading towards the town of Kamadrone, but then he took an unexpected turn further down the road and changed direction towards the abandoned cathedral left in ruins since the war. I don't know what madness would make him approach that place though. Those ruins are haunted and no longer a sanctuary for the living...
Paul: That shouldn't be of much concern to him. Anyhow, we thank you for the helpful piece of information. Now we must go on.
Mortimer: Hey...
Paul: Yes?
Mortimer: Be careful out there, alright? Don't throw yourself into something reckless that might make you wind up in my wagon. I wouldn't want to see such fine gentlemen like you among the carcasses.

The three of us were left speechless and reflective as the undertaker now whipped his overburdened stallion, forcing it to move and continue its journey down the road. Even with no words uttered, it was safe to assume that none of us fancied the thought of becoming the next contribution to that guy's workload. In fact, I would even go as far as to say, this encounter with the sinister undertaker might've enhanced my motivation to survive in its own morbid way. Once the undertaker had nearly vanished by the horizon and left our line of sight, we turned around and proceeded on our journey. We didn't have the luxurious time to dally any further. However, according to the shady undertaker, it seemed like there was a slim chance for us to catch up with our stray magician. Hence we didn't change direction before Paul noticed a wooden sign having gone mossy, stating that the new road discovered lead to the so called "St. Marianna's Cathedral". I had obviously never laid eyes on a cathedral before, but I assumed it to be a former sanctuary where people could devote their faith to Shévolyn, the great deity of light that the citizens of Zalsaroth worship. Every time I felt that I had finally figured Archimedes out and found a pattern in his actions, he'd pull another unexpected move and force me back into fruitless speculation. What purpose would a cursed wizard enveloped by darkness have with visiting a cathedral, allegedly being a great monument of light? Even in its present state, the cathedral should still retain its religious importance. Although the worshippers of Shévolyn and the disciples of Gaia share some similarities and aren't the most conflicting factions, I still felt mildly uncomfortable about the thought of treading on the sacred soil of light. I would have to trust that Gaia wouldn't question my loyalty.

Once we changed direction and got onto the right track, it didn't take long before we found the great cathedral or what was left of it. The desolate building must've been huge during its days of glory, but now it had been utterly destroyed and left in ruins. It seemed like the roof had come crashing down, and the giant pillars that used to support it were severely broken. It was a tragic sight, and I couldn't help it but to imagine if one of our sacred temples back at home had suffered the same fate. Without knowing the history of this ancient monument, I was convinced that it hadn't just crumbled with time after having been abandoned. It seemed more like blasphemous destruction committed by a malicious force, possibly during one of the wars that took place years back, but I suppose that'd be irrelevant for me worry about. We passed through the poor remains of the entrance, stepping on a large splintered door that must've been forced open from the outside. The wooden beam used to keep the door locked had snapped in two despite of the width. This was a sacred place for the worshippers of Shévolyn, but right after having stepped into this desolate ruin, I could sense that something was amiss. The damaged remains of the walls were still tall and solid enough to keep the wind out, but it was very chilly inside the ruins. A great battle had taken place on this sacred soil and many lives had been lost - I could feel it. The air was thick with spiritual energy still lingering years after this cathedral was leveled to the ground. Then we found him, and at the most unthinkable place possible - Archimedes had kneeled down by the cracked remains of the altar, paying his respects. A praying lich - now I had seen everything. We approached him from behind, but not even the sound of our footsteps was enough to distract him from his prayer.

Archimedes: Hmm? Oh, it is you.
Paul: Hey Archie! I didn't know you worshipped the Goddess of Light.
Archimedes: I am a cursed man, Paul Drakemyre, and would have no trace of hope to lean on if even the Gods abandoned me. I do not have the luxury of being religiously selective, so I pay my respects to everything divine. Even if my prayers are ignored or denied, at least I can prove to myself that the evil inside me has not yet conquered my soul.
Sinqularis: This may be a slightly belated matter to bring up, but I suspect we owe you our gratitude for helping us with our escape from Jibanon the other day. Those undead were your minions, weren't they?
Archimedes: Regardless of who brought them onto the battlefield, your gratitude should be passed to the victorious dead who willingly rose from their graves to protect your hides. They put up a good fight and kept the enemies at bay long enough for you to make your escape.
Zephyr: Did you really come all this way just to pray?
Archimedes: No, I have another more personal matter that I must attend to in this location. Can't you hear her?
Zephyr: Uh, who?

We all remained quiet for a moment and just listened. It was dead silent. I looked towards Zephyr for enlightenment, in case if he could hear something that I could not, but he just shrugged. Then Archimedes' hand suddenly scurried across the floor and pushed away a loose tile, revealing a hidden switch underneath. He flipped it and activated an eerie mechanism that apparently still worked, causing the alter to move back and reveal a staircase leading underground. There was just no way he could've known about that unless if he had been here before. He rose from the tiled floor and stood up straight, facing the stony staircase leading down into the unknown. The dark tome he always brings along was currently closed and strapped to his side like a sheathed weapon.

Archimedes: She beckons me.
Paul: I don't hear a bloody thing...
Archimedes: It doesn't matter - this is none of your concern. Leave now and return to your quest. I will hopefully catch up with you another day.
Paul: Hmmm...

The cursed wizard left us after having uttered those final words, descending the staircase and vanishing in the gloom below. The three of us remained behind and just glanced contemplatively into the darkness of the hidden entrance, until the least considerate of us all spoke up.

Paul: ...What are we waiting for? Let's follow him!
Sinqularis: Hey, we can't just...!
Zephyr: Too late.

Yeah, Paul didn't pay any attention to me at all and was already incautiously darting down the staircase at great haste. I looked worryingly at Zephyr. but he just shrugged and followed the highly impatient rabbit, descending the stairs at his own casual pace. For the first time in years, I felt like throwing a tantrum and yell someone's ears off, but the obnoxious twit who deserved to be scolded the most was already far ahead of me inside the tunnels beneath the cathedral. If only Zephyr hadn't followed him, then this would've been the opportune moment to just leave and continue our journey without that lunatic rabbit. No, perish the thought! Why would I even think such malevolent things? I would really like to respect Archimedes' wish of letting him handle this matter alone, but since Paul and even Zephyr had decided to defy his request, I had no other choice but to follow him as well. Having our group left in such a disarray was really violating my own dormant desire of preserving some sort of order in this situation. I sighed and descended the staircase myself, trying to catch up with the others and hoping that Archimedes wouldn't blast us into next week with his magic once he discovered that we showed no regard to his request. He was bound to become furious and had every reason to be so. I couldn't find words strong enough to describe how much I missed having Wesley take the lead and have him guide us with his innate sense of leadership.