Everlasting Dream

Chapter 18: Where is she!?

[Haldor Firefury]

His head throbbed intensely as if it were about to explode, sending pulsating pain throughout his entire being. Shut eyes and a parched mouth became his unwelcome companions. The taste of stale alcohol clung to his tongue, leaving a disgustingly bitter aftertaste. A sudden wave of nausea threatened to turn his insides out, making him wonder how he had come to this miserable state.

With a groan, he tried to sit up, only to find his body was stiff and sore. The events of the previous night floated in his mind like fragmented puzzle pieces, forming a hazy and confusing picture, leaving him with more questions than answers.

Haldor slowly opened his eyes, revealing a dreary scene before him. He found himself lying on hay, his clothes stained and reeking of alcohol. Gradually, his surroundings came into focus. The dimly lit interior of the barn was illuminated faintly by rays of sunlight that managed to seep through the gaps in the old wooden walls. The cold air bit at his skin, reminding him of the unforgiving winter.

The sensation of awakening alone in this cold and damp barn was far from pleasant for Haldor. The heavy stench hung thick in the air, attacking his nostrils. His clothes clung to his body, sticky with sweat and dirt, adding to his discomfort.

As the morning light gradually filtered through the cracks in the barn walls, Haldor summoned the strength to rise to his feet, his legs trembling and unsteady beneath him. Each step he took was hesitant, his movements rigid and awkward, as if his muscles had forgotten their purpose.

A wave of nausea washed over him, his stomach twisting as his body struggled to process the amount of alcohol that had been consumed the previous night. Unable to contain himself any longer, he stumbled towards the nearest corner and emptied the contents of his stomach.

The sound of his retching echoed through the silence, ringing in his ears and making his head pound even more. Once the sickness subsided, Haldor leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.

Using the back of his hand, he wiped his mouth. Summoning what little strength remained, he gathered his resolve and made his way toward the barn door, squinting as his eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh sunlight.

Stepping outside, he was greeted by the refreshing embrace of the crisp air as a cool breeze brushed against his face. Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs with the refreshing air. Gradually, the throbbing in his head began to subside a little, and the foggy haze lifted from his mind.

With every heavy step he took, Haldor trudged towards his home, his movements sluggish and burdened. His stomach still swirled with discomfort. However, the cool morning air and the gentle caress of a fresh and cool breeze helped him to ease some of his misery.

Pushing open the door to his house, Haldor was taken aback by the noticeable chill that hung in the air. The warmth and coziness he had grown to were conspicuously absent, replaced by a biting cold that seemed to seep into his very bones. He brushed off the discomfort and continued to shuffle slowly toward the washroom, longing to wash away the lingering remnants of the previous night.

At last, he reached the barrel of water, his hands trembling as he dipped them into the icy water. Cold shivers traveled up his spine as he splashed his face. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he couldn't help but notice his messy appearance. The dark circles beneath his eyes spoke volumes about the exhaustion he felt.

A wave of confusion and unease swept over Haldor as his mind struggled to make sense of the events from the previous night. Memories flashed before his eyes, muddled and indistinct. He could not recall clearly the series of events that had led him to his current state.

After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he emerged from the washroom and headed towards his bedroom. His body ached, and his muscles screamed for rest. All he wants is to feel the soft mattress beneath him right now.

Haldor made his way through the hallway, his footsteps breaking the silence as they landed heavily on the hardwood floor. He couldn't help but wonder where his wife, Nivalis, might be. Usually, by this time, the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meats would have filled the air, a sure sign that Nivalis was busy preparing a hot breakfast. "Probably still resting after childbirth," he thought.

Each step he took was filled with anticipation, but as he opened the door to the master bedroom, his heart sank at the sight that greeted him — a cold, empty room devoid of any sign of his wife's presence. The shock of the scene froze Haldor in place, his heart pounding in his chest as his mind struggled to process the reality of the situation. His wife was missing.

Haldor's frantic search for Nivalis echoed through the empty house, his calls for her met only by an eerie silence. As a sickening feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach, cold sweat formed on his brow. A flood of questions surged through his mind.

"Where could Nivalis be?" he thought, his heart hammering in his chest. "Why isn't she here? Maybe someone has taken her against her will?".

His eyes darted around the house, scanning for signs of struggle, but the surroundings seemed undisturbed. Instead, he noticed that a significant amount of food was missing from the storage, and most of her clothing as well, a detail that gave only one possible answer — Nivalis had escaped. But where could she have gone?

The weight of realization hit him like a physical blow, and he staggered backward, desperately reaching out for support that was not there.— "The tracks!" he exclaimed as the thought struck him like a lightning bolt. "I must find her tracks before the snow covers them!"

Without a second thought, Haldor rushed outside, his heart pounding in his chest with each desperate beat. His eyes scanned the ground thoroughly, searching for any trace of Nivalis's escape. And there, faint impressions in the snow were the tracks left behind by the sled she had used to carry her supplies.

Haldor stood at the forest's edge, his eyes fixed on the trail ahead. It was clear that Nivalis had fled east. In a moment of intense rage, Haldor channeled his fury and slammed his fist with brute force into a nearby tree, his knuckles splitting open and bloodying.@@@@

— "Fucking hell."

...

[Haldor Firefury]

As Haldor stood just outside his house, his eyes swept across the surroundings, searching for any sign of Eirik. The sun's rays warmed his face while the gentle wind carried the familiar scent of pine and woodsmoke. The village is now fully awake, and people are going about their business. Haldor's heart pounded against his chest, his veins pulsating with an anxious anticipation that seeped into his very bones.

In his hand, Haldor tightly grasped a backpack, straining with the weight of provisions and survival gear, each item carefully chosen for the journey ahead. His fingers fidgeted with the strap, betraying the unease deep within him. He couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness, thoughts of his son's future without his presence threatening to consume him entirely. If he failed to find Nivalis, his son would grow up with no recollection of his father and the love he had to offer.

"Haldor!" a familiar voice called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned his head towards the source, his gaze falling upon the approaching figures of Eirik and his six companions, each armed and ready for the mission.

Eirik is a tall and muscular man in his early thirties. His jet-black hair and blue eyes gave him a somewhat handsome, youthful appearance. A thick, neatly trimmed beard framed his square jaw, complementing his masculine features. Dressed in a dark red shirt beneath a sturdy brown leather coat, Eirik carried a large backpack on his back.

"I've brought some help," Eirik declared, his voice confident.

The six men walked towards him, right behind Eirik, their footsteps echoing through the silence. Most of them were clad in leather armor and armed with a variety of weapons. Their faces were determined, their eyes filled with a sense of resolve and purpose.

Haldor greeted them warmly, his eyes curiously scanning the faces of the group. He knew each person well and had lived with them in the village. Some were seasoned hunters, skilled trackers, and capable warriors. By local standards, of course.

However, two were unfamiliar to him. Both were young men, their appearance telling that they were probably adventurers of a lower rank. The taller one, clearly an archer, stood with a bow slung across his back and arrows secured in a quiver. The other, a wizard, carried a staff, though its humble quality suggested it was one of the cheapest.

Eirik took the initiative to introduce the strangers, and his voice filled with reassurance. "This is Odar and the other is Argo," he said, motioning towards each individual. "Both are adventurers, so I've hired them to help us. It was fortunate that they happened to pass through our village. The rest of our group, of course, you already know."

Gratitude filled Haldor's voice as he addressed the assembled company.— "Thank you all for your willingness to help me find my children." then, turning his attention to the unfamiliar faces, "My name is Haldor Firefury, and it is truly a pleasure to meet both of you."

Odar, a tall and broad-shouldered man with short, dark brown hair and deep-set green eyes, stepped forward. He wore a dark blue tunic underneath a protective leather vest. A copper earring adorned his left ear, its green-ish gemstone catching the light, a slight touch of elegance amidst his rugged appearance.

"You're welcome, Haldor," Odar responded, his voice firm and steady. "I'm glad to be of service."

Next to step forward was Argo, a youthful figure with a slender frame, pale skin, and untamed brown hair that fell in disarray. His face was adorned with a pair of striking hazel eyes that seemed to penetrate into the very depths of one's soul. He was draped in a worn white cloak and a grey scarf wrapped around his neck. But all of it contrasted with his humble, almost shy demeanor.

Haldor's gaze, full of gratitude, rested upon Odar and Argo.— "I owe you both a great debt," he admitted sincerely. "If there comes a time when you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask. Your help means more to me than words can express. The same goes for everyone else here."

Each of the men nodded in agreement, their voices filled with determination.

"No worries, Haldor. It's simply what adventurers do — helping those in need," Argo replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "And, by the way, I am a cleric, while Odar here is an archer."

"We will bring back your son and wife," Eirik assured, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Eirik's eyes burned with determination and a sense of urgency. "Alright, Haldor, it's time to set off. Where do we go?"

Haldor's voice dropped to a low, gruff tone.— "We head east," he declared with conviction. "I stumbled upon some traces of her path, leading us in that direction." he pointed with his hand and then added, "And you are right, there's no time to waste. Let's move," he urged, his voice thick with impatience.

The group set off, their synchronized footsteps creating a rhythmic crunching sound in the snow. As they ventured forward, the wind grew stronger, howling through the trees and whipping at their faces. It tugged at their clothes as if trying to test their resolve, but they pressed on undeterred, their breaths forming clouds in the air.