Chapter Text
The heat of the day was already fading as Galleous walked along the shore beneath the islands. Air once filled with the heat of a late-summer sun now held a cool breeze as the day drew nearer to its ending and the sun above sank towards the distant ridgeline. Birdsong was fading as evening strengthened its hold on the land and shadows stretched across the ground, and Galleous could see the birds flitting through the trees as they made their way back towards their nests. But summer evenings were long, and Ataraxia was close. Galleous could stay out a little longer.
He crouched and dug a smooth shell from the sand, then swished it around in the water to clean away the clinging grains. He studied the dripping shell, noting the twisting, spiraling pattern. Possibly a nautilus, but he wasn’t sure. Deiphida would probably know; she knew more about the creatures of the sea than anyone in a landlocked village should.
Galleous slipped the shell away and stood to wander on. But something caught his eye. There was something lying on the rocks further up the beach, near the end of a natural jetty formed by a ridge of stone reaching out into the water. It was a darker gray than the pale stone it lay on, the shape too wrong to be some strange variant of rock.
He frowned at the shape, wandering a little closer to see better. Sometimes dead fish would wash up on the shores but as he got closer the thing definitely didn’t look like a fish, even a large one. No, it was a person… a child.
Galleous broke into a run, skidding to a stop near the still, unmoving form and kneeling to pull the child away from the water. The movement revealed dark stains on the stone beneath where he had laid– blood, leaking from several wounds scattered across the child’s skin. Free from the water’s distortion he could see the boy’s foot twisting in a way that it definitely shouldn’t. His markings were dim, flickering the colors of rust and fading coals— the color of red.
Galleous stopped, staring down at the battered and broken kid lying in front of him. The Voltaris kid, oozing blood onto the rock. The kid hadn’t moved, hadn’t uttered so much as a groan at being dragged from the waterline. He was completely limp, the only signs of life the slight rise and fall of his chest and the faint but oh-so-clear crimson striping his skin.
What…?
Galleous didn’t even know where that question was going. What was a Voltaris kid doing here, what had done this to him, what in Ardonia was Galleous going to do now…
Galleous looked around, as though the kid’s parents might be lurking somewhere nearby. There was no one, Voltaris or otherwise. A part of Galleous pointed out that that could well have been for the best– he doubted he’d have liked the greeting they’d have given him if they found him next to their half-dead child. Another part of him knew that meant the entire situation lay in his hands.
Galleous stared down at the kid again. He saw an ugly bruise blooming across his ribs, mottled black and brown and purple around the red marking that branched across its center. Something had hit him– or he had hit something– very hard.
What do I do?
He knew the stories. The tales passed down through generations of the forever-war against the Voltaris, the experiences Thalleous had recounted, at first spoken in hushed words as his brother tried to bring himself to terms with the horror of what he’d seen, then later flung at him in anger in their many arguments. He knew of the dangers of the Voltaris. But this one couldn’t threaten a silverfish in this state.
How ironic that he had been the one to find this Voltaris, given his brother’s career path. It felt like a taunt by the world, something too paradoxical to be random chance. Maybe the universe was testing him somehow, or maybe fate just had a strange sense of humor.
His hand was still resting on the kid’s shoulder, forgotten from when Galleous had dragged him free of the water. The boy’s skin was cold and clammy, the heat stolen from him by the cool water of the bay. The stone beneath him would’ve been warmed by the sun in the peak of the day, but evening was falling and before long it would be night. It may still be summer but the kid was cold already, and the cooler night wouldn’t do him any favors. Would he even last the night like this? If the cold didn’t get him surely the undead would…
Galleous shuddered at the thought. Zombies and spiders and whatever other mobs were about would have no hesitation at such an easy meal. They would tear him apart, and the only mercy would be if the boy never woke up before the end. Voltaris or not, that was a fate Galleous would wish on no one. Drowning would’ve been a kinder end than that.
Galleous’s knees hurt from kneeling on the hard stone but he didn’t move. He just kept staring down at the kid, at the blood and the red stripes that kept this from being simple. Any other color and he’d have rushed the boy to Meirus’s place already. But here he still was, sitting and waiting as though for a sign.
Maybe he could just… hide the kid somewhere? Find someplace that could keep the monsters off him during the night? He would at least stand a chance…
Galleous nodded to himself. Yes, that was what he would do. He wasn’t interfering much, he was just making sure that if the child’s life were to end, it wouldn’t end in a scavenger’s jaws.
Galleous gently picked the boy up, trying not to strain the injuries. Songs, he was even lighter than Galleous had guessed from how skinny he was. The kid’s head lolled back without strength or awareness to hold it up and Galleous adjusted his hold, ending up with the kid’s head leaning against Galleous’s shoulder. Galleous stood carefully, taking a last look around for anyone watching. Still no one.
Well, nothing else for it now. He had pretty much committed to the plan at this point. Now he just had to find somewhere to hide the kid.
As Galleous carried the kid through the woods in search of a shelter, he felt the Voltaris stir faintly. He stopped and looked down at the kid, wondering if he’d just imagined the movement. The boy didn’t wake but he did shift slightly, trying to huddle closer to Galleous’s warmth with what little strength he had.
Dampness was dangerous when paired with cold, Galleous knew that. Thalleous had mentioned it when telling their niece and nephew a tale about the strikes into the Barrier Mountains, and the unforgiving environment that came even before one would encounter the banished clan. Water would steal away your warmth faster than the wind, he’d said. Given that the Voltaris had still been halfway in the water before Galleous had dragged him out, what was pleasantly cool to Galleous now would undoubtedly feel worse to the kid.
Galleous half-consciously held the kid a little closer as he started walking again. A quick account of what he had in his inventory reminded him of an old blanket, left over from one thing or another. Galleous didn’t remember what. Well, he supposed it could work well enough to dry the water from the kid off a bit before he had to leave him. Heck, he could even leave it with the boy; if he hadn’t needed the blanket enough to bring it out before now, Galleous probably wouldn’t miss it.
It wasn’t long afterwards, though, that Galleous belatedly realized a problem with the hide-the-kid-to-give-him-a-chance plan. Something warm and sticky on his hand alerted him to a trickle of blood, leaking from a wound running down the child’s arm. Even if he could find a suitable bush or cave to hide the kid from the elements, the scent of blood would still draw the predators of the night. Any zombie or spider, wolf or low-swooping phantom that got too close would hone in on the boy, and he would have no way to fight or flee.
Galleous knew it was possible to survive a night on your own out in the wilderness, not even that uncommon. But he was pretty sure the usual statistics didn’t apply to someone abandoned with no ability to protect themselves. Was there any kind of shelter he could find out here that could hold off a hungry undead? Galleous didn’t think so.
Galleous looked to the west, where golden-orange rays were streaming between the trees. There was still some time before true nightfall, but as soon as the sun sank below the ridge the bolder undead would start to emerge, shielded by the shadow of the mountains. He didn’t have much time to come up with something.
Maybe one of Ataraxia’s storehouses would work? They were on the mainland, but the lights around them would ward off monsters, and they would be more secure than whatever bush or cave he could find out here. But that ran the risk of someone else finding the child before Galleous could return in the morning. But short of just hiding the kid in his own house, there was nothing to be done about it. He would either be hidden from monsters or hidden from people, not both…
Galleous’s wandering had slowed with his indecision, but now he stopped again. The idea had crept into his thoughts, unbidden and unnoticed, but he had to admit… it was, technically, an option. A good option, a feasible option, possibly not, but… it was an option. But it would also get him more mixed up in this than he was sure he wanted to be.
He couldn’t just hide a Voltaris in his house. A moment’s pity to grant an already-dying child a more peaceful death was one thing. But to actively help a Voltaris was a major step beyond that. He would not be getting away with that scot-free if he were found out.
He looked down at the child still huddled in his arms. His markings shone more clearly in the dimmer light under the trees, the rust-colored light a mark of condemnation in the war the clans fought. Red markings didn’t exist in places like this; they were consigned to the far north where cold and ice and bloodshed reigned. The war existed to keep the violent progeny of that land away from the provinces, to hold them back in blood-for-blood battles like the ones Thalleous insisted on fighting. If Galleous were to go against the efforts of the clans’ soldiers like this, against his own brother…
To Nether with it, Galleous decided. Thalleous could be angry all he wanted, it served him right.
Galleous knew that was juvenile. Odds were, Thalleous would never even know about this. But it would put his conscience at ease about the boy’s fate, and it would let him have a little laugh at his brother’s expense.
Galleous breathed a sigh of relief when he got back to his forge. Even with waiting until a deeper nightfall, he could still barely believe that he had actually gotten away with so few people being around to see him, or that a few sticks and a blanket could make a kid look so convincingly like a bundle of firewood.
He set the Voltaris gently down on the couch, tossing the sticks aside and looking him over. Well, his markings were no dimmer than before, at least. But those cuts needed treatment.
He draped the blanket over the kid again for a little warmth before going to dig out some bandages. Bandages, disinfectant, a bucket of water… He set a couple of iron ingots down next to the lava basin as he passed. The lava would heat them up and he could get some warmth back into the kid. That done, he got to work cleaning the child’s wounds. He heard a weak groan from the boy on occasion, but each time he glanced up the kid was still out cold. An unconscious reaction, Galleous supposed.
He couldn’t leave the boy on the couch while he recovered. He would be spotted in a heartbeat the next time someone came past the entrance to the forge. But he did have a bed in the spare room the kid could use… Galleous would just have to clean off the junk he had stacked on it first. Who would’ve thought that secretly harboring a Voltaris child was what it would take for him to finally organize that stuff.
The last of the cuts was covered and Galleous sat back with a sigh, staring at the child in his house. He would have to try to set his foot next; it was either broken or badly sprained. Either way, he would need to immobilize it for it to heal right. After that he’d need to find some way of getting food into the kid… Who knew how long he’d gone without in his unconsciousness, who knew how much longer he would stay comatose…
Songs, what am I doing…?
Galleous sighed again. He didn’t know the answer. But he had committed now, this kid was now his responsibility until he could be on his way or until… until he died. Galleous had to admit that he might not be able to prevent that. But… Void help him, he would try.