Until This World Ends

Ch6: Cradle of Civilization

Valentine stood to care for his minor wounds once Vesper started licking at him. As his hand had somehow found the scepter while nearly passed out, he could feel the dog.

He shook his head. Dog and woman... "Speak. Don't lick me, M'lady."

As ever-gracefully, she changed from one being to another. Vesper was still crouched low, where he could see her. "You never change, do you, Valentine?"

He held out his hand, to help her stand up, which she ignored and did as she pleased. Nothing had changed in the time he knew his ghosts.

"I change plenty. Hate the sound of my own voice." His laughter was harsh when he thought about the arrogance of youth and how far distant that folly was. Not that he thought he had changed for the better. A man who did that would cleanly lay out his jokes. "Anything left of Whisper?"

"No. And we were all supposed to make it to the end, but that damned Spidermayne wasn't supposed to exist."

Looking around at the carcass behind his back, it still looked more like a scorpion love child with a mantis, not a thing like a spider to have such a ridiculous name. "Why not Scorpinox?"

"Hrm?"

"Why name it something spider-like?"

"That thing can fly when mature and is more a demonic dragon than an insect, Valen. Riders are terrified of them."

"Is it?" Valentine grunted in pain as he flexed his sore arm. Having the scepter pulled out his hand was going to do a number on his joints. "The forest?"

"No. The creature of the forest will not touch you, as you carry her mark. But it hates you, and wants to end you."

"You sound as if it's the god of death."

"It is, sort of." Whisper sniffed, disdain for the monster of the dark threading her words before she shifted back to his hunting companion.

Valentine sighed as he slowly stood. Talking with her was going to be just as unrewarding as Lark. And at a time when he'd lost most of his spoken words. Age made dealing with women, even dead ones, all the lonelier.

But the journey wasn't at an end. The Cradle of Civilization was his goal.

Thankfully, it started in Asheradama, his own kingdom. If it had been some of the first nations to fall, such as Easternmarch or the Isle of Mistfolk, he could feasibly speand the remainder of his years trying to reach those nations. Valentine wasn't even sure Mistfolk could be reached by a man tossed about in the great sea's mercy, as sailors complained about how treacherous it's shores were. He'd rather brave another cyclone, than try.

Still, the Cradlelands were the high plains that were the true heart of his nation. Unlike the day-and-some long trek between King's Port and Asher's Heart, the center of the plains was a good 6-day's ride. He suspected it would be a fortnight's walk. That was something he could worry about on the morrow. Instead, he gathered back up his haphazardly dropped gear, and made his way to the dusky castle, and chose to sleep behind the king's throne, where skylights would shine on him in much the same way as they did from the temple's spire, save there wasn't a dead demonic dragon insect thing stinking up the throne room. The scepter was near enough to grab, but placed a distance to ensure Vesper couldn't accidentally disturb his sleep. He had the sinking suspicion that if he let her, she'd order this ending of his life. He didn't want that from someone who was already dead.

He had not chosen dead dogs as his companions. It was something he often had plague the back of his mind, but it hadn't reared itself as a forethought until Vesper shook him awake with the Goddess' scepter in hand. "You'd sleep the day away, wouldn't you, Valentine?"

The amusement in Vesper's voice was comforting, soothing the ire of being woken by something after all these years of peace. Fast on the heels of his first reaction, was the thought that he was too old for change. Why did he have to pick up the scepter, anyway?

Valentine hadn't been in his right mind for a long time, and was now badly set in his ways. This only made him look forward to the end of his tasks even more. "If I exert myself like I'm young, I won't see the end of this trip. Don't wake me up early like this."

"Oh, you are a mean one, when you aren't married." Vesper's eyebrows raised, with a slight curl of her lip.

The implication that he had ever been married, even if only in another lifetime, was enough to start his day with a headache. Instead, he ignored her, and went about his morning rituals before sitting down to check his feet over while he drank an early-morning bitter tea to wash down his wedge of cheese. He had no blisters, although that was due to how carefully he wrapped his feet inside his boots. While cattails made a comfortable replacement for eiderdown, he found he missed how he didn't have to stir that layer inside his boots before he put them on.

After his last swallow, he put back on his boots, then stood up to rinse his cup out and pack what little gear he brought with him, then set off for the Cradlelands. Asher's Heart was dead and pristine, this morning, as he went nowhere near the old gallows. There was no sense of anything followed him, and the woman reverted to a dog, much to his relief.

It took nearly half a day's march through overgrown farmland to start the ascent into the upper plains and by sunset this turned into an almost impenetrable mountain. Well, there was once a clear path that switchbacked it's way up. Time showed it had not been cared for, and there would be points where it was better to just climb. At the base was an old camp, a log cabin that had a tree growing up through the center of the building. Valentine had no clue if this was intentional on the part of the builders or a newer addition, as the tree didn't seem to be older than maybe 30 years.

Sleeping outside would bring fears of the dark, such as the thing in the forest. Inside was no better. The demon they fought in the cathedral had no entrance that was large enough for it. If it could fit through the crack in the door, then it who knew what could fit down a chimney. Valentine chose to set up camp next to a sturdy wall. He had no intention of inviting the building to fall around his ears when he was close to the end of all things.

He didn't choose a fire, as it wasn't cold, just his bedroll and taking a break from his boots. 4 centuries of sleeping in several layers of clothes didn't make the armor any less annoying to sleep in, but the thought of being caught with his pants off bothered him.

Vesper chose to sleep with him sandwiched between her and the wall. Even though she was dead, the scepter lay next to her, meaning she could defend them both.

Valentine drifted off into a dreamless sleep that was only pierced by the rising sun, forcing him to get up earlier than he ever did back home.

The damn dog seemed to be laughing at him as he cursed his way through his morning rituals of relief, cleanup, and a meal. Valentine ignored her and studied the switchback. 6 turns to get up to the plateau, and passes 1, 2, 3, and 6 were barely covered in rocks, should be walkable. But 4 and 5 both looked like the climb up the side would better serve his time because he was going to be seriously climbing boulders either way. "What do you think, Vesper?"

The woman had been kneeling next to him, gripping the shaft of the weapon. "I'm going to go up that as a dog, and where it gets difficult, I'm climbing straight up."

"Where do you place that at?"

She gripped it all the tighter. "Right before the 4th turn, near center on the 5th. I want you to tie this thing to my back while it's in it's little harness."

"Scabbard and belt. How can those things touch you?"

"They'll touch the scepter. That'll slow me down enough for you to keep up."

The old man winced, convicted of his age. Couldn't keep up with a ghost dog when he was young, forget now. But he turned to her and took the scepter and settled the belt around her, running a second strap around the waist, for stability. He patted her hip to let her know she was good, earning a slight yip and growl. Valentine knew he didn't hurt her, but more this was something he'd do to a dog, not a woman. He had to wonder about the state of his mind, and let that distract him through the more peaceful part of the climb.

The temperature started to shift during a damn-near vertical climb between the 5th and 6th turn. A cool front moved silently across the edge of the heights, not quite mixing with the warmth both down and south. Valentine found himself shivering from exertion by the time he rolled himself up-over, onto the path. "I'm too old for this shit.'

Vesper stood over him. "It's actually warmer, away from the cliffs. And the walk is slightly downhill for the next few days."

Valentine was glad that her habit included leggings. This was not the view he wanted of his dog. As he could touch her when one of them held a scepter, the things he longed for when he lived with Th'thee were possible. And it wasn't sex. It was basic humanity that he missed. Besides, an unused faucet forced into use was a good way to have the whole plumbing break.

That's what got him smirking up at Vesper and she nudged her foot into his ribs as she growled. "Keep it clean, old man."

He rolled his eyes but slowly stood up and turned to the trail. "I've kept it clean for 60 years, I'm sure I can go to the end of my days without that, woman."

"Then why look?"

"I'm celibate, not dead, and certainly not blind. Don't stand over me like that if it concerns you." He resisted the urge to speed up and wind his partner, as he would in his youth. She was dead, what was there to wind but an old man with a dirty mind?

Given that this should have been a holy task, he very much resented the intrusion of any form of temptation. He had some vague ideas about how this should end, but he was certain it shouldn't be in a dog's arms.

But still, Whisper's words at the end haunted him, and he had no clue what all this would mean for the end of all that he was.