Chapter 8 - Zoltar

A young boy ran, laughing, into a ruined Tower. He was strong, lithe, and brown as the dirt he raced over. Behind him, a strong, stout man with long black hair ran, laughing just as hard. He wore only a kilt, having returned from the fields recently, where he and the boy had labored all day. 

From the window, a woman heavy with child looked out at the two males cavorting in the dust and rolled her eyes. Fortunately, her daytime companion had prepared the bath for the others. She turned to him. 

Storm lay on the floor, playing with three young ones. A seven year old girl, five year old boy, and two year old boy. His mask was on the floor, the young ones being unperturbed by his strange appearance. The baby kept trying to put his fist in the skeletal nasal cavity, causing constant smiles from behind the fleshy mask over the warrior's mouth. 

It had been ten years since the FireStorm, ten long, weary years. Storm and Dubaios had cleared the land, Dubaios and Martea, the woman, had been married, and children had been born. Only 6 humans and Storm lived in the whole of Cortalia. 6 humans. 

Dubaios, still laughing, came in, carrying his eldest, Zoltar. Storm rose and tousled the boy's hair, then knelt to hug each of the children. Replacing his mask, he grabbed his harness, did a quick series of signs to Dubaios, and left the Tower. 

Dubaios walked over to his wife and kissed her, then felt the bump on her belly. He spoke a few quiet nothings to it, and smiled hugely when a soft *thud* from inside informed him that the baby was listening. 

"This one is a boy. He kicks so much."

Dubaios laughed. "Yes, another son. It is as Craos wills." He embraced his wife, then shooed the children up to the roof to bathe. 

The family ate dinner together, then the children went to bed. 

Dubaios and Martea stayed up, talking to each other. 

"Something is wrong with Storm."

Dubaios rolled over. "Beg pardon?"

Martea adjusted herself against the carved headboard. "He hasn't been himself lately. He barely plays with the children anymore. He hasn't done signing practice in weeks."

Dubaios sighed and rubbed his wife's bulging belly.   

"Storm's ways are not our ways. He is... different. I have my doubts of his humanity."

"What else could he be?"

Dubaios shrugged. "It's more than I could say." He looked into his wife's eyes. "How are you feeling?" 

Martea shifted. "Uneasy. The baby's too quiet."

"Nonsense. This one will be born healthy, as the others were." Kissing his wife, he whispered, "Goodnight, my love."

Storm galloped across the plains, mile after mile. His trusty steed ate up twenty miles before beginning to slow, as the land changed. 

Instead of the light green that had sprung up in the past ten years, a gash crossed the land. A mile long and a spear's throw wide, it made an ugly mark on Cortalia's surface. Storm dismounted, patted his trusty charger, and went to the edge. 

He stood on the edge, seeming to consider next movement. Then, he took off his mask. He laid it carefully on the ground. His cloak followed, then the rest of his gear and clothing. His long hair, in a simply ponytail as usual, tickled his back. He loosened his muscles for a moment, then he dove. 

One hundred feet down, his muscular body plunged into icy water. He began to swim down, farther and farther. When he had exhausted his air supply, he raced with superhuman speed to the surface. His skeletal nose sucked air in. His eyes glowed, searching the rim of the gorge, he knew not what for. 

After swimming for an hour or so, he climbed up a rocky set of stairs, carved by his own hand into the rock, reaching the rim of the gorge again about half past midnight. 

He walked around for a while, drying off. After he had redressed, he heard a noise. A crunch. Very close at hand. He turned, slowly, to face a wolf. Storm looked a bit confused, as did the wolf. 

It was very thin, to the point of starvation. It had a mangy black coat, dim red eyes, and a sad sag of its back. Storm considered him for a moment, and coming to the conclusion that he was curious, not vicious, slowly approached. The dog nuzzled his hand. Picking the sad bundle up, Storm rode away, leaving the mysterious gorge in the moonlight. 

In the morning, Dubaios went downstairs to find trouble waiting for him. Martea was on the table, with the dog patrolling around, snapping at her heels whenever she tried to get off the rough wooden plank. Dubaios' entry caused the hound to rush over to the ladder, snapping. For the next moments, the dog went wild, back and forth. 

Then Storm entered. Seeing the situation, he dropped the firewood instantly. Rushing to the dog, he dropped on his knees, cupping its head in his hands. Soft mumblings came from the mask, and the dog, slowly, began to relax. It recognized the feel of the gloved hands, and the mutterings that would have once been words. 

It began to focus on the mask, directly in from of him. Finally, he nuzzled the strong arms that embraced him. Dubaios and Martea, slowly, entered the room and climbed off the table, then came together and linked hands. Dubaios felt that Martea's heartbeat was racing, as she was terrified. 

"Go lie down. Your heartbeat is too fast for safety."

Martea nodded, and slowly climbed the ladder. She looked haggard, as if twenty years older than she was. Dubaios, worried, looked after her, even after she closed the trapdoor. When he heard the second trapdoor's soft thud, he whirled on Storm. 

"What in the name of the Devil himself do you think you're doing?"

Siging, Storm replied, "He was hungry"

"AND WHAT DO I CARE?! THAT IS MY-"

Storm laid a gloved hand on Dubaios' mouth, pointing to a little bundle in the corner. The eldest child lay there, fast asleep. Dubaios nodded, then motioned outside, saying, "Bring the cur."

Once outside, he shoved Storm into the wall. Whispering low, he asked, "Do you really want to die, Storm? I thought you knew better than to do something like this."

Suddenly, the dog, who had been so vicious moments earlier, began to nuzzled Dubaios' hand. The merchant gave it a light slap, not angry, between the ears, to go away. The dog persisted. Finally, Dubaios looked at him. 

The dog was looking at him with a happy gesture, tail wagging. The mouth was hanging open, with a great red tongue hanging out. Dubaios, almost against his will, gave the huge dog a pat on the head. Giving Storm a frustrated shrug, he returned inside to check on Martea. 

Storm looked at the big dog, now so happy at finding more friends. 

Zoltar. 

That's what I'll name you, you big lout. 

Giving the dog's ears a scratch, he returned inside as well, to prepare some food.