Work Text:
In the Doc’s defense, Shepherd hadn’t told him about the importance of the lantern. Shepherd hadn’t told him much of anything about his months-long absence, in fact. He had come home leading a group of nearly two dozen humans with odd accents and dark clothing, looking for a new start. One young boy in particular was nearly attached to Shepherd’s hip, and seemed to be wearing a copy of his hat.
Shepherd himself was sporting fresh scars, a haunted look in his eyes, and a strange bone lantern held tightly in one hand. He had told the Doc it was “from a friend” and nothing more. There was a look of grief in his eyes that told the Doc not to press further.
He wondered to himself what events must have transpired for Shepherd to make such an attachment to someone. He was normally such a loner, especially while on jobs, and this job had been for some stuffy Professor from Breeg no less! The Doc couldn’t imagine Shepherd getting that comfortable with some high-collar snob. Maybe he was kinder than his initial letter had made it seem. The Doc wasn’t sure he would ever get to know, as Shepherd clammed up every time he was asked about the leader of the expedition.
The lantern, however, the Doc was much more curious about.
Shepherd had taken to hanging it on the porch while he worked during the day, then taking it down and setting it in his room at night. It was a bit strange to the Doc, as Shepherd had never desired a light in his room before, being able to see quite well in the dark. On top of that, the Doc was almost certain that Shepherd wasn’t sleeping well, if at all. Most nights, if he was up late enough working, he could hear Shepherd getting up and pacing, or going out to check on the ranch’s new homes. On a few occasions he heard him speaking to the lantern, his voice too soft to make out the words. It almost sounded like prayer.
As concerned as he was about Shepherd’s behavior, the Doc couldn’t help but be curious about the lantern itself. It had never gone out, though he hadn’t seen Shepherd ever fuel or light it. Even during strong winds, the fire had never extinguished.The color and size of the flame would shift ever so subtly, seemingly in response to Shepherd’s presence. It was clearly magic of some sort, but for the life of him, the Doc could not figure out what spell or enchantment it might be just by looking at it. It was an endlessly fascinating trinket, and the Doc itched to take it apart and figure out what made it tick. He restrained himself for a good long while, knowing that it had some sort of sentimental value to Shepherd. Eventually, however, the need for knowledge grew too great.
Shepherd had gotten injured during his most recent hunt. Some sort of large, spiny lizard type creature had been terrorizing travelers nearby. Shepherd had dealt with these monsters before and was quick to put it down, but not before it had ripped into his left leg. It was not nearly a fatal wound, but the Doc had insisted that Shepherd stay off his leg until it healed, or until the Doc could find the box of healing potions he had foolishly misplaced while Shepherd was away.
The tiefling was currently slumped in a rocking chair in the corner of the living room with his injured leg propped on a footrest. The Doc fumbled through cabinets, searching for the missing health potions. He cast a concerned glance at Shepherd. After nodding off and jolting awake half a dozen times, he had quietly requested for the Doc to retrieve the lantern from his room for him. Soon after the lantern was set on the floor next to him, Shepherd finally fell into a deep slumber. The flickering firelight cast the circles under his eyes into sharp relief.
The Doc’s eyes were drawn to the lantern almost involuntarily. Perhaps he could take just a quick look at it, to see if he could find runes or a magic gem or some other explanation for the perpetual flame. He crept across the room, quiet as can be, and slowly picked up the lantern next to Shepherd. The fire sparked and crackled as he lifted it aloft, but Shepherd didn’t stir.
Healing potions forgotten for the moment, the Doc scurried to his workroom and set the lantern on his desk. Just a quick examination, he resolved himself, merely one look-over and he’d give it right back. He wouldn’t even disassemble it!
The Doc carefully inspected each edge and curve of the lantern. It was definitely carved of bone, and masterfully crafted. Surprisingly, there were no runes or signs of enchantment, though the flame was clearly magical. It burned brighter and hotter than any regular candle, and seemed to spout from the base of the lantern itself, no oil well or candle wick in sight! There was a small inscription on the bottom of the lantern, but it didn’t seem to be the source of the magic. The Doc recognized the script as draconic, though he didn’t know the meaning of the words.
He cast a glance at the doorway behind him. He should probably put the lantern back before Shepherd awoke, but first… As an experiment, the Doc grabbed a scrap of paper from his desk and stuck it into the flame. He jerked his hand back as the paper was incinerated almost immediately. Intent to return the lantern instantly forgotten, the Doc excitedly began testing the destructive capacity of the flame with other materials. A small shard of wood was quickly burned up, as was a piece of fabric. The Doc had pulled out a wax melting spoon for sealing letters and was marveling at how fast the flame melted the wax cubes when he heard shifting and muttering from the other room. Caught up as he was in the glee of a new trinket, the Doc paid it no mind.
The quiet shifting, however, was followed by a loud thump and a yelp of pain from Shepherd. The Doc startled so badly he nearly fell off his stool and fumbled the melting spoon, red wax splattering across his desk. He cursed in alarm, but was quickly distracted from the mess by the sounds of staggering footsteps and Shepherd’s panicked voice in the hall.
The Doc rushed to the door and threw it open, spotting Shepherd out of the rocking chair, leaning heavily on the wall as he struggled to walk. There were fresh splotches of blood seeping through the bandages on his leg, and his face had paled to a much duller shade of red than normal. One shaking hand was at his hip, scrambling for a weapon that wasn’t there (Judgement and Redemption were stored in his room while he recovered), and the other hand clutched the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. There was an expression of terrible panic on his face. The Doc hadn’t seen Shepherd look that frightened since he was a child, waking up from nightmares of fire and screaming and angry crowds.
“It’s fuckin’ gone– his lantern– I-I-I can’t find it, I can’t– shit, it’s– it was right there–,” Shepherd was gasping, before he locked eyes with the Doc,“He trusted me with it, and I’m, I– fuck, I can’t–“
The Doc moved forwards and reached towards Shepherd, speaking firmly in the calmest tone he could muster, “Ya can’t be on that leg yet Shepherd, sit down ‘n take a breath for gods’ sakes!”
Shepherd’s eyes suddenly drifted over the Doc’s small form and landed on the lantern still sitting on the workbench. He lurched forwards off the wall and past the Doc in the doorway, making it only a few steps into the room before his injured leg buckled beneath him and he went tumbling to the floor. He let out a cry of pain, simultaneous with the Doc’s shout of concern and surprise.
The Doc rushed to his side, but startled back when Shepherd flinched away harshly from his touch.
“NO– get OFF me!” Shepherd shouted, pushing himself off the floor and staggering to get his back to the wall of the workshop. His hands once again reached for the empty space at his hips, breathing more rapidly by the second. His dark eyes were wild and unfocused as they darted around the room, seemingly unaware of his surroundings.
Sinking to the floor, Shepherd pressed his back to the wall, fully panicking. “This– this ain’t real, it can’t be, w-we killed it, it’s gone, it’s gone–”
The Doc didn’t know what to do. “Shepherd, what’s–”
“–it’s gone, it’s gotta be, please .” Shepherd’s shaking hands reached up to clutch at his hair as he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please, please, I-I can’t breathe , I can’t– Gherix, S-Sarnax, help me!”
Without warning, the lantern’s flame flared up violently. The Doc stumbled back and stared in shock as a tiny wyrmling made of flame flew out of the lantern and darted towards Shepherd. It circled his trembling form before settling on the floor in front of him.
Shepherd’s eyes had opened at the sudden brightness of the fire, and were now fixated on the wyrmling. He hesitantly reached a hand towards it and murmured in a broken voice, “Sarnax?”
The fiery wyrmling touched its snout to Shepherd’s fingers. He winced slightly, but his eyes focused and his breathing began to slow. To the Doc’s wonder, the blood seeping through Shepherd’s bandages dried and flaked away, and the tension of pain seemed to release from his frame. The wyrmling let out a soft puff of soot and faded into sparks. On the Doc’s workbench, the lantern’s flame receded to its normal intensity. Shepherd slumped into himself and put his face in his hands.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
The Doc walked to his workbench and cautiously picked up the lantern, carrying it to where Shepherd sat against the wall. Setting it down between them, he lowered himself to the ground with a sigh. He tried to catch Shepherd’s gaze.
“Tell me what’s goin’ on, son.”
The flickering firelight was reflected in Shepherd’s dark eyes as he stared with an unreadable expression at the lantern between them.
“I don’t–” His voice broke. “I don’t even know where to start.”
The Doc moved a bit closer, doing his best to keep his movements deliberate and slow, and rested a small, worn hand on his boy’s shoulder. Shepherd finally looked at him, and something in the Doc’s heart nearly broke at the grief written on every part of his face.
“Start anywhere you’d like. Beginning, end, right in the middle, I don’t frankly care. I just need you to get whatever the hell you’re carrying off yer shoulders before it breaks yer damn back.”
Shepherd let out a laugh that sounded a bit closer to a sob. “It’s- it’s kind of a long story. And it ain’t a happy one.”
“I’ve got time. I’ve got all the time in the world for ya,” the Doc replied softly. “What… what happened to you, Silas?”
At the use of his first name, Shepherd finally let the tears welling in his eyes fall, and the story spilled forth.
He hadn't been exaggerating when he said the story was long. The Doc’s legs had grown stiff from sitting on the floor, and he knew his back would pay tomorrow, but he sat and quietly listened to all of it. The expedition, the mist, the hags, the raven folk, the amber temple, the vampire countess and her spouses, and a hundred other terrible, terrible things. He had the feeling that Shepherd had glossed over some aspects of the story, but he trusted whatever was kept secret likely had good reason.
The Doc felt guilt rise in him as he began to piece together how the lantern fit into the story. Though he had managed to regain some of his composure over the course of the tale, Shepherd’s voice shook with grief when he spoke of Sarnax of the Edelwood, lanternbearer and cleric of the dragon god Gherix. He spoke of him showing Shepherd the way of the flame, and eventually giving himself up to that fire in order to save his friends, and his newly proclaimed brother.
Even though he had never met this lizard folk in person, the Doc found himself mourning the sacrifice of what was clearly a good man. He had never seen Shepherd speak of someone with this sort of fondness, this sort of loss.
“I’m tryin’ to be strong for him, for his memory, I really am. I just… it feels like the world is still endin’ all the fuckin’ time, and I don’t know what to do, Doc. You know I can’t sleep for shit and it’s just keeps gettin’ worse, ‘cuz– ‘cuz every time I lay my head down, I can’t stop thinkin’ about how I’m here, and he’s not, and how in the hells did he deserve that?”
Shepherd broke off and covered his mouth with one hand, overwhelmed. Instinctively, the Doc reached out to wrap an arm around him, but he hesitated, remembering the violent reaction only a few minutes ago. He didn’t have to question his actions for long, however, as Shepherd voluntarily scooted over to lean into the Doc’s embrace.
After a moment, Shepherd picked up the lantern and brought it close to his chest, scrubbing at the tears on his face. “But I guess… I guess he is here, in some way. Whatever that was… he n’ Gherix are still hearin’ my prayers.”
Shepherd’s foot scuffed over a patch of soot on the floor, and he flushed as he seemed to remember the cause of the mess in the room. “Hells- I’m sorry for freakin’ out like that Doc, I dunno what came over me. I think I had a-a nightmare or somethin’ and when I woke up and couldn’t find the lantern I just… lost it a bit. I’ll clean this mess up, I promise–”
The Doc cut him off by pulling away slightly so he could grab Shepherd’s shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Silas,” the he began, “I… I’m so sorry I scared ya like that. If I had known ‘bout any of what happened to ya, I swear I never woulda touched that lantern without askin’. As it is, I’m sorry that I did, and… I hope ya know you can always talk to me about anythin’, anythin’ at all.”
The ghost of a smile crossed Shepherd’s face. “I forgive ya, Doc. And… thanks. Really.”
The Doc brought him into a hug once again, doing his best to hold his boy tightly despite the gnome’s smaller stature. “I’m just glad yer home, son. Now, how ‘bout we put that lantern where it belongs, out where everyone can see it?”
They stood up together, the Doc stretching his stiff back and Shepherd carefully testing his weight on his newly healed leg. The bone lantern stayed firmly in Shepherd’s grasp, the flame dancing brightly. They took it out and hung it on the porch, in full view of the small homes recently built to house the ranch’s new occupants.
Soon after, Tommy excitedly ran up to the pair, sitting next to Shepherd and happily rambling about his day. Shepherd and the Doc listened contentedly until the young boy’s words had slowed to a stop and he leaned sleepily against Shepherd, his beloved hat tilted against his shoulder. The group sat quietly for a while, watching the sun set.
The lantern burned on, and all was well.