Wingar shook uncontrollably on the chapel floor, while Osgar and Alf tried to calm him down.
"Wingar, talk to me! What happened?" Osgar asked, trying to understand his brother's mental state. "We're doomed, and it's my fault. He knows. He knows I lied," he replied shakily. Osgar squatted down next to his brother. "How can you be so sure?" he asked. Wingar looked at him in despair. "I could feel it. I felt his rage the moment the words left my mouth while that strange feeling rummaged through my mind," Wingar replied, clutching his chest.
"What do you mean you could feel it?" Osgar asked as Wingar blankly stared at him, shaking his head like a nervous twitch. "I don't know how or why, but it was almost as if I could feel his will boring into my mind, looking for something. I did what I could to hide my thoughts, but the way he sounded just before we left…" he said shakily.
"Honestly, that could have just been because you were nervous in his presence," Alf suggested, but Wingar turned and glared at his friend quickly. "I know what I felt, and had you felt it as I did, you would've shat yourself the moment the feeling came," he said angrily, but Osgar put a finger to his lips. "Shh, wouldn't want him to hear that, would you?" he asked hushedly.
Wingar fell to his side and curled up into a fetal position, where he sobbed uncontrollably. "I'm sorry. I… I don't know what we should do," he said between the hiccups that resulted from his weeping. Osgar looked over at Alf, who simply shrugged with an upturned lip. "None of us do. For now, all we can do is play along with the lie that we know nothing about what he wants. At this point, we are still uncertain what that is and what Mourtis meant by saying he is coming for it," Osgar said.
For once, the tables had turned: Osgar was now the reasonable one, while Wingar had taken Alf's place as the one to fret.
Wingar's sobbing slowed a little as he regained his composure. "You're right, brother. We have no other choice," he said, wiping away a wad of snot. "We must find out what he wants, and how we can still find a way to uphold our end of the bargain," he continued. Osgar helped him to his feet, while Alf brought him some water from the nearby jug, which he snatched quickly and took a few gulps of old water that had sat in the same container for far too long. He spat out most of the bitter-tasting liquid and instantly regretted having swallowed some before tasting it.
"Tastes like old socks," he said, spitting a few more times. "Well, if it got you out of your tantrum, then I suppose it was for the best," Alf said. Wingar looked at him angrily, but decided it was best they stuck together rather than get at each other's throats. Wingar wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked around at the empty chapel.
The benches that faced them were empty, and the whole room smelled of old incense and spilled wine.
I remember this place, Wingar thought, recalling a speech Mourtis had once given there, spitting the remainder of saliva in his mouth at the sign of Mideia before heading down the steps.
"Where are you going?" Osgar asked. "To find something that will help us out of the shit-hole I got us into," he replied without turning around. The two were soon behind him as they went to the second floor, where the scribes made copies of the books Mourtis had commissioned to be translated into the common language.
A few benches were lined along a lengthy table, where stubs of old candle wax had melted, wrapping themselves around their supports, and inkwells lay spilled and dried upon the dense wood.
"Look for anything regarding the history of Coltend, and read through the table of contents. With any luck, we'll find something somewhat useful," Wingar ordered as they began to scour the scrolls and leather-bound books upon the shelves and table.
Most of the books on the shelves were covered in dust - countless years without a single hand touching them had left them looking like they had been lost in time. Osgar went straight to the table and began to read the first few lines of the works in progress. He went from page to page, all around the table, while the other two were scouring the titles of the books. "Nothing here," he said to the others, causing Wingar's stomach to turn.
If we don't find anything here, we're really in for it, Wingar thought.