XIII
Thalo and Knale took to the road once more. They travelled southwards over Fegennas and into Syoglonn, in the northern reaches of Mawon. From there, they followed the river eastwards to the coast. As ever, Knale went in silence, Thalo’s every word falling unacknowledged.
After four days of walking, they stopped to rest one evening at the edge of a small wood. While Thalo was off gathering some kindling, Knale put on his fox fur and scurried away unseen. Thalo returned to their camping spot to find it deserted. He started the fire himself, had a small meal, and went to bed.
While Thalo slept, Knale went off to the coast. He clambered down the cliffs to the beach, and there he spotted his destination—an old sea cave. In he went, hoping to find Fowdho, the second of the twin trolls, and the second of his scornful nephews, whimpering within. Yet canny fate determined it would not be so, for in that cave he found no sun-starved troll. He found instead his brother Feydo, alive and alone.
‘Oh!’ said Knale. ‘Alas that I must suffer this dunce yet again!’
Feydo had no mind for pleasantries, either. ‘Why are you here, Knale?’
‘Why am I here? Why are you here? And why is Fowdho not?’
Feydo said, ‘I let him go.’
‘Do not lie to me, brother. It is ill-fitting.’
‘You are one to speak of lies, Knale.’ Feydo stepped towards him, his eyes alight. ‘You swore you would not kill them. You swore it to me by oath—an oath now broken.’
‘And to what exactly might you be referring?’
‘You killed Klovo! You swore not to, and then you did it anyway. I had to free Fowdho before you got him, too. They are both now lost to me, but at least I know one yet lives.’
‘Cease your tweeting, twitter-twink! I knew you were dull, but this is some new nitwittery. I have not killed Klovo. Whyever would you think I had?’
‘I came to his cave, and there I found his headless corpse.’
‘Be that as it may, it was not by my hand that Klovo died.’
‘Do you—you, Knale—truly expect me to believe that?’
‘Like I care what you believe. Fate knows the truth. I am blameless, so all are satisfied! Except for old Klovo, of course. And also me, actually. I was very eager to find Fowdho here. Where is he?’
‘Gone. I have not seen him since I let him loose, and I doubt I ever will. But neither will you. Perhaps that is the only joy left for him, to live free of his cave, yet likewise free of friendship. Free of death, yet free of life. It is a pity it has come to this. How I wish you had not forced my hand.’ With a sigh, Feydo stepped out of the cave. ‘I am going now. Nela awaits me.’
Upon the invocation of his sister’s name, Knale’s blood began boiling. He rushed at Feydo, grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him back into the cave, nearly dragging him off his feet. ‘No. Nela need not know about this.’
‘You may think nothing of an oath,’ said Feydo, ‘but I do not. I swore I would keep her boys safe and look what has come of it! One dead, one lost. My oath is broken, my long life fruitless.’
‘That is your own fault, spineless waste of a man!’ Knale seized Feydo’s neck, just as his temper seized him. ‘Now tell me where Fowdho is. Tell me, brother, or I will end your long, miserable life here and now.’
‘Wherever he is, he is beyond us both. It is just as well.’ What little anger had dwelt in Feydo had all now given way to despair. ‘I am tired, Knale. I tried to keep them safe—I tried so hard, but I was a coward. I failed them. I failed them all. Kill me if you wish, but if there is any love left in you, I beg of you, brother: take pity. This wretched guilt I bear is justice enough.’
But there was no love in Knale, nor any room at all for pity. ‘I will pity you when you lie dead at my feet!’
Then he clenched his hand around Feydo’s throat and attacked him. To be beset by his own kinsman, a new verve arose in Feydo. He gripped Knale’s hand in his own, pried his fingers apart, and freed himself from his brother’s grasp. He took to his finch feathers and fluttered out of the cave without turning back.
How Knale seethed behind him! Utterly dissatisfied, his temper flared as never it had before. His fists full of fury, his heart full of hate, he thrashed bitterly at the floor as if deprived of all sanity, screaming and howling until his knuckles were raw and bleeding, and centuries of spite, a malice to mar many lifetimes, reddened the stone beneath him.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Things can be done. Things can be done.’
Then Knale left the cave.
When he returned to their campsite, it was not yet daybreak, but Thalo was already awake, sat by the fire and chatting idly to Ondayo about petty matters.
‘Thalo,’ said Knale. ‘We are halting our journey.’
‘Why?’ said Thalo.
‘That is no concern of yours. I have seen a farm a little to the west of here. Stay there. I will fetch you when we are to resume.’
‘When will that be?’
‘Before you die, with any luck.’
Knale donned his foxen coat and took off without another word.
Lost, lustful, and with no better options, Thalo did as Knale bade yet again. He readied Ondayo and set off westwards. His destination was a farm called Alvennawl.