44- The enemy stalks
"Does either of us know exactly what the paila is?" Asked Tthor, one afternoon at the end of March.
"No..." Lee-Won and Noel answered in chorus, while they tied pieces of colored cloth to small stakes driven every thirty centimeters into the garden, which was now surrounded by tall poles with braided wires.
These had proven effective in keeping Byddo away, who watched them from the rough, wagging his tail gracefully. Thor had tried some approaches but the dog seemed to have no intention of becoming friends.
" And do any of you know why you need to have a guardian?"
" No...," the two answered again.
" And do any of you know who I can ask about the paila?" Tthor prepared himself for another negative answer. But this did not arrive immediately.
Noel and Lee-Won exchanged quick glances. The girl cleared her throat and, seeing that Lee-Won seemed too focused on tying a knot, she answered quietly:
" You shouldn't be walking around...asking questions about the paila..."
"Why not…?"
"Because it's dangerous," Noel answered.
"And because nobody knows anything," Lee-Won added.
"And because you would expose yourself to Domtrov and his followers. You're supposed to blend in. If they believe you are not the guardian, they will not see you as a threat."
Tthor was not very satisfied with that answer. Noel was right in wanting to guard it but if he was truly the guardian, he had to face the danger, instead of running away like a coward. His father had faced danger and he was no different. But he didn't say anything about what he thought. He changed the subject abruptly and, to his relief, his friends listened to him and finished their work talking about the weather, about how well the purslane, Salicornia, and rhubarb had sprouted, and marveling that the currants already had their first flowers, about the weather. and the crying of the squonk.
That night and once Darius had fallen asleep, Tthor took out his box of “treasures” and observed in detail the mirror that he had stolen from the blacksmith.
He knew he had to return it. But he had heard so many things about that man that, every time he decided to go visit him, his hands would sweat, his skin would crawl and his heart would accelerate dangerously.
" You can't be so afraid!" Tthor said to himself that night - It can't be worse than the school band. What is a simple blacksmith going to do to you? Besides, he doesn't even know you...," With these words repeating in his mind, Tthor fell asleep just at dawn.
When he woke up, he decided that that would be his last night awake, for that reason. Because since he slept there, he had had few episodes of sleepwalking. And it was a shame that, now that he could sleep peacefully, he didn't do so because of something that could be solved with a simple visit.
Early, then, he got up, dressed and put the mirror in the pocket of his jacket, whose zipper was stuck again. He just stopped in front of Asmodeus's door, opened it slowly and peered inside. The demon was still sleeping, half-covered with a tattered rag, in the same corner as always and hugging his favorite green stone plate. For a moment, Thor forgot about his hurry and watched him sleep. And in a fit of anger at seeing that situation, he kicked the line of salt that was drawn from one side to the other of the door lintel, until it was completely erased. He took one last look at the demon and ran away.
That day he did all his tasks automatically. He didn't stop to wait for a pelican to appear or to spy on the squonk crying loudly behind the hemlock hedge. He spoke little and had to repeat the walk to the kitchen several times because he constantly got lost in his thoughts and ended up on the third floor landing, looking at the paintings of the “apotheosis of Orffelios” without really knowing why.
Without saying anything to anyone, when the sun fell in the valley, he set off down the hill to the smith's house. By the time he reached the red lintel door, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest.
He had thought of hundreds of ways to apologize to that person. He wasn't satisfied with any of them but he was already there, so he summoned all the courage in him and knocked on the door with a trembling hand. To his surprise, it opened immediately. A man, quite young, with broad shoulders and leathery hands looked at Thor from inside.
" Tthor Prayer...I was waiting for you..."
The boy looked into his eyes, amazed. A slight smile at the corner of the blacksmith's lips was enough to reassure Tthor. He advanced at a sure pace, at a sign with the hand that the man made. Everything seemed to be the same as that time he had entered.
"I'll put the kettle on for tea, if you'll come with me."
"Yes, thank you," Tthor responded immediately. "I brought you this," said the boy, taking the small oval mirror out of his pocket. "I think... it seems like it's his... his."
" Seem to you?"
"No, it's yours!" Tthor quickly clarified.
The blacksmith smiled pleased. Tthor sat at the table and watched the fire crackle in the small hearth in the corner.
For some reason, he felt more comfortable and relaxed every second. He even laughed at himself because of the nerves he had felt before going there. He saw that the smith made no move to take the mirror, so he carefully placed it on the table.
"Excuse me... what is his name?"
"Rize Fen, at your service…"
"Mr. Fen, did you know that I had stolen your mirror...?"
Mr. Fen nodded slowly as he poured the boiling water into a silver teapot.
"And why didn't he accuse me?" Tthor wanted to know.
"When I saw you arrive that day, I spoke to you but you didn't pay me any attention, you were like...hypnotized."
"I'm a sleepwalker. I was asleep."
"And that's why... I didn't try to stop you. Besides, you didn't do anything wrong."
" But...I stole from him..."
"That mirror...," said the blacksmith, sitting at the table and pouring two cups of tea. "is the mirror of Edessus. Sugar?"
"No, thanks."
"The mirror of Edessus is not just any mirror. It has a…particularity: it was built to return the image, in a different way, to whoever looks at it."
Tthor took a sip of the tea and felt a warm sensation wash over him from head to toe.
" In a different way…?"
"You see, when you see yourself in it, the mirror gives you the image of what you think you are, not of who you really are..."
"I wanted to see myself in him..."
"And you didn't see anything..."
"No," Tthor whispered, "I thought he was damaged in some way."
"You didn't see anything because you still don't have a firm opinion formed about yourself."
"I know who I am," Tthor complained.
The blacksmith looked at him smiling.
"And who are you?"
"Darius's helper."
Tthor was thoughtful upon hearing his own words.
"Now I understand...," said the boy after drinking another sip of tea. "I am more than that..."
"Yes, exactly!"
"But what else? I have no powers, I'm weak, and I don't live up to anyone's expectations at Warghost."
"No wonder you can't see anything in the mirror, thinking the way you think...," said the blacksmith, staring at him. "You have a pretty powerful enemy to fight against."
"Yes, they have told me about him: Ördel Domtrov."
"No, yourself. The internal enemy, our shadow, is always our worst enemy."
Tthor remained silent. He thought for a moment and said slowly:
“The best self-defense is a mirror.”
Mr. Fen's haggard face suddenly brightened.
"And that?" He wanted to know.
" Mrs. Nogg told me."
"Mrs. Nogg is very wise," said the blacksmith, serving him more tea.
"But he wasn't quite sure what it means, until now."
"Save the mirror. It will be more useful to you than to me," said Mr. Fen, bringing the mirror closer to Tthor.
The young man took it carefully and put it in his pocket.
"Can you ask him a question?" He said then, quite curiously.
"Sure, whatever you want."
"Do you know anything about Orffelios' paila? I mean, Darius has told me about her but I would like to know something more."
The blacksmith drank his tea slowly without taking his eyes off the boy. He put the cup on the small plate and asked:
"Has it not yet been revealed to you?"
Tthor shook his head nervously.
" You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I don't even know what it looks like. I wouldn't know how to recognize it if I saw it."
"Well, something is known about the legend of its manufacture. They say that it was carved from an emerald stone that fell from the sky, in a battle, in time immemorial. It was polished by the Eddas to a mottled green finish that shines as if it were metal. Then, she was baptized with fire and sealed with an ancient and powerful spell, pronounced in Irdín. Orffelios obtained it from the Eddas as thanks for freeing them..."
Tthor thought for a few moments and felt something strange in his chest, like a warm sensation of fire and there he knew it. The paila had been near him the whole time and he hadn't realized it. The blacksmith noticed the change in the boy's countenance.
"And what do I do once I find it?"
"Put it safe...hide it...silently, for your own safety."
"I must go!" the young man suddenly said. "Thank you very much, Mr. Fen."
But before the blacksmith could respond, a loud explosion of broken glass made them jump. Thor looked out the window. One of the upper windows was completely shattered, with its pieces scattered all over the dirt floor.
"Don't look out! It is dangerous…"
"What's happening?!" Tthor asked, looking outside and beginning to shiver from the icy wind that poured through the cracks.
Lighted torches illuminated the stone path that linked the dirt path to the door of the blacksmith's house.
There are people out there," said Tthor, seeing without difficulty despite the already closed night.
A few meters from the house, a dozen people stood, all with torches, some with rakes, others with sticks and barbecues, they looked towards the house in stony silence.
"What do you want?" Tthor said worriedly.
" They're just trying to...scare me."
"Why?" the boy asked indignantly.
" You better go Tthor, through the back door...," said the blacksmith pointing to an adjoining room.
" No!!! I will not leave!" Tthor shouted with an energy and impetus unknown to him until now. "The cowards cover their faces, but they will have to listen to me!"
" No, boy! Leave them. They'll be gone." The blacksmith's voice trembled and he rubbed his hands violently.
"Are you feeling well?" Tthor asked him when he saw how pale he was. "Sit down and drink some more tea. I will stay here with you."
Tthor filled his cup and helped him drink. After a few moments, he sat next to him and asked if he was feeling better.
"My father passed away more than a year ago. I inherited this house, his profession and also his debts. "I'm a blacksmith, I don't know how to do anything else," he justified with a trembling voice.
" In this town, time seems to have stopped. And some customs seem picturesque but others...," Tthor whispered.
The blacksmith nodded agitatedly.
" I want to pay my debts but I don't have much work. Some believe that if they look into my eyes they will die or something bad will happen to them. They leave my work at the door, I do it and leave it back on the lintel. They almost never pay me or, if they do, they pay me a lower price than what was stipulated and I can't even afford the materials."
Mr. Fen drank more tea and stared at the fire in the fireplace that was almost out. Tthor remained silent, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the broken window. He felt so helpless that he had to use all the self-control in him not to go out and face the mob that was still there, with their torches and their masks.
"Why don't you come with me to Warghost? There it will be safe and we can think about what to do more calmly," Tthor proposed, after a few tense minutes of stony silence.
But before the smith could answer, knocks were heard on the two healthy windows and immediately, some lit projectiles fell on the litter that was in a corner, setting it on fire in seconds. The fire spread quickly towards the walls and towards the logs that were stacked near the fireplace. In another instant, everything was black smoke and suffocating heat. The tongues of fire already reached the ceiling.
The smith tore off the blanket that served as a tablecloth, shattering the cups and plates, and tried to put out the fire that was now approaching them both through the wall. He hit the flames a couple of times with the blanket, which, since it was made of woven wool, didn't take long for the flames to stick to it. With a scream, the blacksmith dropped the blanket, which was now nothing more than a tongue of fire that burned uncontrollably. A loud noise warned Tthor that the roof structure was giving way and the creaking of some furniture devoured by the flames accelerated the decision to get out of there.
Tthor pulled the man by the arm, forcing him to move away from the flames that had already engulfed the bed and were crawling near the legs of the table. The metal had already acquired a fiery red color. Tthor had to shout several times to get the blacksmith out of his stupor, until he forced him to take several steps away, while they covered their noses from the dense smoke that practically no longer allowed them to see anything.
The smith seemed to suddenly realize the danger they were in and then he followed Tthor into the next room and out into a small backyard. Without looking back they slipped around the side of a small shed and climbed up the hill. Now sure that they had gone far enough, they dropped to the semi-rocky ground and looked towards the cabin, which was being completely devoured by the fire. A black cloud was escaping from the fire in spurts and small explosions here and there, denouncing that there was nothing more to do. Suddenly, a complicit wind seemed to rise from nowhere and spread the fire to the work shed.
Tthor looked at the blacksmith not knowing what to say. He saw how his eyes were filled with tears and his upper lip trembled under his thin mustache. He let out light moans that were mockingly mixed with the laughter of the masked men from the other side of the valley, which reached his ears in the grip of the wind that was now blowing with more intensity.
Neither Tthor nor the blacksmith moved from there, nor spoke a word for several minutes; They did not even speak when the mob left, satisfied to see that there was nothing left but a smoldering black spot where there had once been a house; Not even when the night fell deeply on them with the cold wind and a soft snow water began to dye their heads white. And they continued in silence when the wind changed direction, the clouds left and the dawn sun woke up from its night of sleep, announcing with all its energy a new beginning as if nothing bad had happened.
Only when the morning breeze and the crowing of the roosters broke the silence did the boy and the blacksmith seem to wake up from their lethargy of pain. They stood up, with some difficulty, and walked upstream towards the abbey.
Tthor knew very well what he would do. Warghost was to give shelter to the blacksmith. And he would confront whoever it took to do so. As they entered the abbey through the stone bridge, and seeing how the other one, the folding one, unfolded in all its majesty, Tthor promised himself that this would be the last time he would witness an injustice without intervening. And just as they entered the kitchen, still empty, he felt a burning heat in his pocket. He took out the mirror he had stored there and looked in it. He saw himself reflected there with such intensity and brilliance that he was surprised.
The blacksmith saw the image in the mirror over Tthor's shoulder and a slight smile appeared on his stained face.
"Now you know who you are," he told her in a confident and firm voice.
"Yes," said the young man, putting the mirror back in his pocket. "And it's time to take my place. Starting today, things will have to change. Feed Mr. Fen!" Tthor ordered a couple of women who had just entered the kitchen, "and please prepare a room for him in the shed, near mine," His voice sounded confident and manly.
The women obeyed in silence but with a very helpful attitude.
"I'll look for it later...," Tthor said to the blacksmith.
"What will you do?"
"Look for the paila. After all, that's what I'm here for..."
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