Chastisement

Muld struggles with guilt.

29.

Chastisement

 

It was early afternoon when Muld had to finally yield to exhaustion.   His legs could hardly carry him forward, and he did not go to his apartment above the guild building, but found a tiny hole-in-the-wall inn on the east end of town and checked in under an assumed name.

None of the patrons or barmaids saw anything strange with him, even when he ordered a bottle of whiskey from the bar and took it to his room.

He had never drunk alcohol before, but he was not concerned about poisoning himself today.     Muld allowed himself the luxury of a bath, for running water was one of the inn’s few amenities.  He filled the tub with lukewarm water, shed his filthy clothing and sank down into the bath.    The whiskey was absolutely horrible tasting, but he forced himself to drink it.

He wanted to drown his sorrow and guilt for a while.

Over and over he repeated the same mantra.    It’s my fault that all this happened.   There’s blood on my hands.  

He truly believed it, for the eyes of the dead child he had seen first haunted him.    All he could see were the dead bodies and rubble.    Mixed with the foul-tasting alcohol, he sank into the thick muck of a soul smothering depression.   

He couldn’t see Syndi’s face or even remember the feeling that his mother’s brooch gave him.    Those things were happiness that he no longer deserved.     For him there would be an eternity of shame, guilt and pain.    

Muld knew exactly what he had to do.   He would drink himself into unconsciousness and if he didn’t drown in the tub, when he awoke, he would find some clean clothes, buy a backpack and supplies, then slip out and simply walk away from the guild and all responsibility.   No more employees, customers, spells, airships, royal commissions, fame or fortune.   

No more gorgeous redhead girl who needed his friendship but not his love.    She was the smart one for realizing that and holding onto her feelings.      The thought of her would grieve him almost as much as the faces of the dead children, but the pain would purify him in the long run.

She’d give up on him after a few days and probably go back to her parents.    In a year or so, she’d put the memory of him out of her mind and find a handsome noble Losasidhe man.     He’d fill her desire and satisfy her love as well as the need for an intimate relationship.    Then she’d look back at this period of time and shake her head, wondering why she didn’t listen to her mother sooner.

With any luck, he’d be dead by then.

Muld took a deep pull from the whiskey bottle, willing intoxication to flood over him.  

But to his dismay, the alcohol took offense with his stomach and he stumbled out of the tub and threw up all over the floor.

He would have laughed at the irony of it if he had been able, for he had vomited more in the past day and a half than he had in all the years he had lived.

When he tried to clean up the puke, he found that he had managed to achieve some degree of drunkenness, so he staggered over to the bed and fell onto it, passing out into crazy, whiskey fueled dreams.

***

 

Aboard The Raging Bull, Syndi nodded off, exhausted from several days of intense chaos.     Her mind flowed outward and she sensed it reaching out for Muld’s thoughts.   Delighted that he was asleep in the middle of the afternoon, she mentally rushed to rendezvous with him.

But something was terribly wrong.    His thoughts were foggy, spinning pools of confusion, pain and guilt.     Syndi reeled in the unnatural state, for Muld’s sharp mind was nothing like the thick soup of rambling emotions and haunted thoughts.   

She called out to him mentally, but it was as if he couldn’t hear her.    A feeling of drowning overwhelmed her and at last she had to pull away from that awful place.    Syndi popped awake with a cry that made her fellow guild members and King Aedric rush over to her.

“I’m alright; just a nightmare,” She told them, still trembling from the after-effects of it.

After reassuring them of her sound state, they left her in peace, but Syndi would not let herself go to sleep, out of fear of going back to that place again.    She lay back in the chair and stared blankly out at the clouds rushing by, wondering where Muld was right then, what was happening to him to cause such distress, and praying to Yesh that he would protect and keep him until she could join him.

 

***

Muld awoke, disgusted at the smell of vomit, whiskey and dirty water that filled the small room.    His head pounded from what he assumed was a hang-over and the light that filtered through the oily shades covering the window hurt his eyes.

Flies buzzed around him as he stiffly pulled himself off the bed.   His muscles hurt terribly from all of the hard work he had done the night before, and he could hardly move as he hobbled around the room trying to figure out how to clean up the mess he had made.

It was evening again, a few hours before sunset, which told him that he’d only passed out for a few hours - though he certainly didn’t feel as if it had only been that long.

Then a crazy thought came to his pounding head:  could he have slept for a whole day?   

He poured the rest of the whiskey on top of the dried vomit on the floor, to kill the smell and drive away the flies, then emptied out the dirty water in the bathtub.

How could he find out?   

He had no clothing except the filthy ones he had worn while helping at the scenes of destruction.    So he put the nasty clothes back on, slipped on his boots and went downstairs to see if his suspicions were correct.

 

The surly bartender confirmed it right away, demanding another day’s payment, which Muld silently paid.

“You’re filthy, mister; you’re disgusting - get cleaned up or you can get out of my inn.”

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,”  Muld murmured in reply and he walked out.

The streets were busy with people finishing the day’s business, but from their expressions, nothing new had occurred since the airship had attacked.

He didn’t feel comfortable wandering down the main streets, looking like a homeless person in his soiled clothes.    So as the sun began to set, he hurried through the back allies as best as his sore muscles could carry him, toward his apartment at the guild building.

Muld had no plans of staying, he was merely going to slip inside, wash off, change clothes and slip out of the eastern gate before the guard closed the city gate for the night.

His mind still carried the oppression of guilt and he knew that he couldn’t merely forget the things he had seen and resume being an arrogant Practical Magician again.

He had to leave.    They’d probably think he died in the pirate bombardment.    If they’d searched for him for a full day, perhaps they’d given up on him.

He rounded a corner and stepped out into the street again, a quarter of a block away from the guild headquarters.

But what he saw stopped him in his tracks and made him retreat to cover at the mouth of the alley.

In the street around the main entrance to the guild headquarters were a crowd of people, all listening to someone speaking to them from the topmost step.   Muld recognized his voice; it was Jevon.

“--it will be nightfall soon, and the afternoon search team has had no luck.    You will be grouped in teams of three and we want you to focus on talking to people in the inns or any open businesses.    Don’t go any place dangerous.   The other teams have canvassed the area very well, and we don’t want to disturb people this evening.”

“What if there are people outside?”   Someone in the crowd asked.

“Yeah, that would be okay; you can talk to them, but be polite.   Most of them have heard that we’re looking for him, so they may approach you with information.”

“Has there been any more news of sightings of him?”  A woman in the crowd asked.

“Mutt talked to a boy who claimed that Muld was helping them pull out bodies at the site on Weaver’s lane, but he didn’t say anything to anyone and slipped off in the darkness about an hour before dawn.”

“What could be wrong with him?”  Someone else asked.

“We don’t know - he was poisoned earlier this week and we don’t know what else has happened to him, but his mental state could be shaken.   He might have amnesia and not know who he is - we don’t know for sure.   But we appreciate all of you volunteering to search for him.    Syndi is confident that he is alive and still in the city.    We’ll find him, with your help.   Now, Rick is going to go over your assigned search grids-“

Muld slid back down the alley, shaking his head at all this foolishness over him.    He really had to get out of the city now.

Taking a big risk, he went to a clothing merchant, a street over from the guild’s building.   The merchant had retired for the day, but one of his teenaged apprentices was slowly closing up shop as he flirted around with a giggling girlfriend.

Muld held his breath as he entered, expecting to be recognized, but the boy just glared disgustedly at him and rudely told him they were closing.

“I won’t be but a moment, I need clean clothes.” 

“You need a lot more than that, mister!   I said we’re closed,”  The teen snapped.

Muld held up three gold pieces, “One for some clothing, two more for your trouble.”

The boy’s eyes gleamed and his manner suddenly grew very courteous.   “What are you looking for, sir?”

“Something suitable for hard wear on the road - but nothing too hot.    Tunic, pants, undergarment, and socks.   Also, a hooded cloak and a brimmed hat.   Do you have any backpacks?”

The cloth merchant did, the teen assured him and then quickly rushed around finding exactly what the dirty, gold-paying customer wanted.   

As Muld waited, nervously glancing periodically at the door, the girlfriend of the clerk filling his order kept staring at him.

Finally she spoke, “Hey, you’re not that missing dude that everyone is searching for, are you?”

“What if I am?” 

The girl’s eyes widened, though she tried to hide her excitement.   “Oh, well, it’s none of my business.”

He knew she was already thinking of a way to slip out and tell those searching for him.

“What if I told you I was a murderer?”

“A murderer?!”

“Maybe that is why I’m hiding…”

She shifted nervously, not meeting his eyes, suddenly scared.

“Here,” He tossed her four gold pieces, “You and your boyfriend keep your mouths shut and enjoy the gold I’ve so generously given here.”

She picked up the coins and nodded timidly.   For a few moments, he thought she would not say anything else, but she was too curious.

“So… who did you kill?”

“I don’t know any of them, really.   I’m not even sure how many there were.”

“You don’t know how many people you’ve killed?”

“It doesn’t really matter; all that counts is that I killed them.”

“So where are you going to run to?”

“I don’t know, I’m just getting out of Westmark.   I don’t know what direction I’m going.”

At that moment the boyfriend arrived with his arms full of everything Muld had ordered.   “You can try on the clothes in the back, if you want to, sir.”

Muld shook his head, “No need, I’ll trust you.   Both of you actually.”   He looked at the girl and she trembled slightly, catching his meaning.

“Thanks.”  Muld told them as he took the bundle, “Enjoy your gold.”

He didn’t wait to hear what they said in response, but hurried out the door and slipped around the corner into the shadows.

 

***

 

He slipped the cloak over him and managed to slip out the eastern gates of the city during the rush that always came before the gates were closed for the night.   Silently he followed a group of farmers heading for their homes in the twilight.    The crickets’ chirping and a distant owl’s hoots promised tranquility and peace, but Muld still was tormented.

Perhaps he should have gone to the King and acknowledged his responsibility for the attack on the city and pledged restitution for the families who lost loved ones.

Instead, like a yellow coward, he was slipping away.

Just as a murderer would do.

What would he do now, he wondered gloomily as he walked down the road in the growing darkness.    Where could he go to escape himself?    He thought of Syndi and hoped that she would not spend too much time searching for him.   Surely she wouldn’t.   She was young, smart and beautiful; she would recover fine.

After a while the farmers turned off to their various farms, leaving Muld alone on the dark road.    There was a partial moon, which gave him enough light to see, so he walked for a while, relishing the quiet.    

The sound of bullfrogs croaking told him of a pond not far off the road.     There were no fences indicating that the body of water belonged to any farm, so he slipped off the path and walked a short distance across a field, to find a fairly good sized pond, with large trees ringing it.

A good place to camp for the night, he thought, for it would be easier to travel by daylight.    He now could bathe and change into the new clothing he had bought.

So Muld stripped off the filthy rags and walked into the cool water, wishing for soap as he washed as best as he could.    He had to wait to dress again, for he had no towel and didn’t want to get the new clothing wet.    He stood under one of the trees, stark naked, but before long he was dry enough and so he dressed, pleased to find that his generosity with gold had ensured not only good quality but a good fit.

Wadding up the soiled clothing, he just left it near the water.   
Rolling his new cloak up, he made a pillow for his head and he lay down under a large tree, wondering if his guilt ridden mind would allow him to go to sleep.

He was asleep a minute later.