Chapter Two: A Strange One

Asmund takes the boy back to the Great Monastery and speaks with High Monk Martin.

Asmund rushed up to the doors of the monastery, his skin moist and red from fatigue. He shifted the boy into his right arm and rapped on the door as loud as he could. They creaked loudly as they opened. Asmund walked in through as fast as he could manage, but his energy was long since spent. He brushed the child’s forehead. He was still warm. Feeling his own a second later, he realized that he was somehow colder than the boy. He pulled down his hood and moved straight for the door to the High Monk’s tower. He pushed open the wooden door and began the long walk up to the High Monk’s chambers.
Finally, he pushed through the second set of doors and into the small, warm room that served as High Monk Martin’s office. The old man looked up calmly, though Asmund hadn’t bothered to keep the slightest calm in his entrance, instead bursting through the door loudly.
“Brother.” He said quietly. Asmund approached the desk. “Approach.” He said with a self-satisfied smile.
“High Brother, Brother Kaj and I found this child in what was Palle before the blizzards. It seems they all died, except for this one.” Martin stood, stroking his grey beard slowly and methodically, his strong fingers going over ever strand and hair. He took the child from Asmund’s arms and looked at him intently.
“He’s warm. You’ve done well, Brother…” He paused, and his eyes flicked up to look Asmund in the face.
“Asmund, High Brother. But that’s just the thing. He was like this when we found him, in a shack covered in snow with shoddy walls and roofing. But he was… warm, if not hot.” Martin nodded slowly, pulling the cloak’s hood back. He handed the child back to the Iron Arm and took his seat again, tapping his fingertips against the desktop.
“You will care for the child. Not too much, all you need to do is provide him a shelter and anything he may need. Others will tutor him. It is not the first time the Monastery has raised an orphan.” Asmund’s eyes widened, and he gagged. He nearly dropped the boy, but caught the falling black form a second later.
“High Brother, I must say that this is a terrible idea. I am not fit to raise a child.” The High Monk shrugged nonchalantly and returned to his work.
“You will become fit, then. I will speak with you later, Brother Asmund. There is something we must speak of, I think.” Asmund nodded and descended the stairs again, leaving the High Monk to his work. Once the door was closed, Martin leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. The suns painted there numbered three, though there were only two in the sky at any time. A tall mountain pierced the centre sun like an arrow in the heart of a man. It was Mount Aghi, Martin knew. Probably the highest in Gammesia. Many of the High One’s followers attested to having seen Adnval’s true form at the top of the mountain, a man that was not only a man but a mighty dragon and a serpent and a bear, all at once. He turned away from the desk to find a black letter attached to the windowsill by an arrow. He opened it with dread.

The Iron Arm came out into the light of the day and shielded his eyes from the sun. He looked back down at the boy in his hands that would, it seem, occupy the next ten years of his life or so. He scowled. He had never liked children, the dreadful spastic things.
The doors creaked as they let another man into the Monastery. Asmund had to squint, but he finally figured out that the shape moving past the already shutting doors was the portly Brother Kaj. The man seemed to find him in an instant, bustling towards Asmund with impatience.
“Well?” He asked, gesturing towards the child. “What’d you do with the boy?”  
“I’m… I’m to take care of him. Raise him, it seems.” Kaj scoffed at that before erupting into unkempt laughter. He leaned on his staff as his face went red. Asmund glowered at the other monk. “It’s not funny.” He muttered. Kaj shook his head, waving the other man off.
“Not funny? Are you joking, man? It’s hilarious!” he blurted. Asmund growled, and Kaj finally calmed down. “So what next? At this moment, I mean.” Asmund shrugged.
“Until the boy wakes, I can hardly do anything. I suppose I’ll bring him to the infirmary, but it doesn’t seem like anything’s the matter.” He stared, still confused at the boy.

Night fell quickly in the Dwelling of the High One, particularly during the winter. The boy had been placed under the care of Matron Helmi, but Asmund waited by the boy’s side. He hadn’t moved at all since the Iron Arm had found the boy, aside from his chest rising and falling with his breathing. He had fallen asleep in an uncomfortable chair provided by one of the nurses, his hood shading his dark eyes and his hands resting in his lap. Every once in a while, a nurse on night duty would come along and check on the boy, only to remark every time that not a thing had changed. The boy was not sick. The boy was not dying. The boy was not even dead.

At the moment the moon hit the highest point in its nightly journey, the boy’s eyes snapped open. He sat up slowly and calmly and looked around. Not a sound was made. The boy poked Asmund in the chest, and one eye, still hidden in shadow, opened and stared at the boy.

“Finally awake, are you?” he murmured. The boy didn’t move. Asmund stood and waved a nurse over. She checked the boy’s temperature and felt his forehead. Nothing had changed. The boy sat calmly through it all. After nearly a half hour of tests, the boy and the monk were alone again.
“Where’s my family?” The boy asked. Asmund blinked. He had no idea how to break the news to him. He continued to stare at the boy for a moment before answering.
“Boy… you must know that the people in your village were sick.” The boy nodded, and Asmund nodded with him. “Good. Then… I’m afraid…” Asmund trailed off again, looking deeply into the boy’s dark eyes. The boy still wasn’t scared, not after waking up in a strange place with strange people. “I’m afraid your family has gone to be with the High One.” The boy nodded again, and smiled.
“Well… that’s good, I guess.” He said with a shining smile. Asmund nearly caught himself smiling, too. Instead, he nodded again. It seemed like if he nodded any more, his head would fall off its hinges.
“Yes. Yes it is, I suppose. That means you have to stay here for a while. A long while. Do you know where you are?” Asmund asked in the kindest voice he could muster. Concern did not come easy for him. The boy looked around at the beds and the nurses milling about. Asmund was not the only monk there, though he was the only one wearing an Iron Arm’s distinct sleeveless robes. The boy finally shook his head. “You’re in the Great Monastery, to the north of your village. Have you ever seen the Great Monastery, boy?” The boy shook his head again, and Asmund nodded. It was the best response he could think of. A quiet minute passed between the two of them before Asmund asked his next question.
“What’s your name, boy?” He asked. The boy sat there quietly for a moment more before shrugging. Asmund sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking the boy up and down. He had long, shaggy hair, most likely due to the difficulty of finding someone to cut a child’s hair when one is dying of the plague. His blue tunic and trousers were both wet from the snow, but the boy didn’t seem to care. He racked his brain for something to call the boy.
“Leogun. That’s your name. Leogun means Strange One, boy. And a strange one you are indeed.”