by Pirateaba
—-
The first trees Toren found were the blue fruit trees in the small orchard Erin had discovered long ago. The gray bark of the trees was the only thing that stood out against the white backdrop. All of the strange green leaves had fallen into the snow, as had the blue fruits. Only the trees remained; somber sentinels.
Toren raised the sword he’d taken from an adventurer long ago and wondered whether there was such a thing as a good tree for firewood. And how many should he cut down?
He decided all of them was a good start, and began with the tree closest to him. Toren raised his sword and took aim at the tree’s trunk. He’d gained a few skills from leveling up to Level 11. [Lesser Strength] was one of them. Now the sword wasn’t nearly so heavy in his hands, and Toren even felt like he might be able to decapitate an enemy in three cuts.
The skeleton raised the sword and brought it down and across in a mighty blow. The iron sword crashed into the bark of the tree—
And bounced off.
The impact nearly jarred the weapon from Toren’s hands. He lost his balance and then raised his sword again. He sliced at the tree, and his blade seemed to just bounce off the grey wood.
Toren didn’t frown. He didn’t bother to hesitate. He raised his sword and began hacking at the wood. After a while he switched sides because the sword blade was getting dull. In the end he dropped the sword and began kicking at the tree.
After about an hour, Toren had to admit that he wasn’t making much progress. The bark of the tree he’d attacked was barely scarred from his efforts, and his sword was dull and the handle was slightly bent. This tree wasn’t going to be so easily felled.
Toren paused, the snowflakes flurrying around his head. Some flew into his burning eyes and melted. The water ran out of Toren’s jaws.
Find firewood. That was what Erin had said. She told him to go find trees for firewood, otherwise he would have just cut up parts of the inn. But here were trees that he couldn’t cut. That was a problem.
Unless…maybe, just maybe these weren’t the trees Erin wanted. Aha! See, now that was the kind of advanced thinking that separated Toren from other skeletons.
Toren left the blue fruit orchard, congratulating himself on this newfound revelation as he walked through the snow. He wasn’t like other undead. He knew that from experience.
When the undead had attacked Liscor, Toren had been quite worried. He’d been worried Erin was going to replace him with a ghoul, or maybe a zombie or another skeleton. He’d been quite relieved when it turned out they were all trying to kill her.
But then, they’d all been obeying the creature known as Skinner. Toren had heard the commands from the giant worm-creature, felt the minds of the Crypt Lords trying to control him. But he was unique, in a way that allowed him to ignore their orders.
Unique. It was a good thing to be, Toren felt. He could do things other skeletons could not. For instance, when he fought, sometimes he got smashed, or his bones were scattered. But unlike the other skeletons, no matter how badly Toren got hurt, he could always get back up.
It was due to magic, and the mana that Erin was supplying him. Toren had a limit to the mana he could contain, but it was that force, that power inside him that brought his bones together or healed fractures. If he ran out, Toren might well die for good like his skeleton counterparts.
That was a concern that Toren thought about as he slipped into a hole full of angry spiders and got caught in their webs. They bit him constantly, hard enough to fracture his bones.
Now, breaks weren’t too bad. As long as the bone wasn’t shattered or scattered far away, the mana required to repair his frame wasn’t too high. Which was good, because Erin didn’t provide him with much mana.
Toren was no mage. But he understood Erin was generating some mana by living, and it went directly to him thanks to Pisces. But that amount was terribly, terribly low. Toren could vaguely sense the magic of others, and Ryoka, the other human who he wasn’t allowed to kill, had four times as much magic in her than Erin.
If she supplied Toren with mana, he’d probably have more energy to do…everything. As it was, he struggled hard and the Shield Spiders bit him until they realized there was nothing to really bite. They untangled him from their webs rather than let him stay and he left the hidden pit trap. He wasn’t sure he could hurt the Shield Spiders with his dull sword, and there were nearly forty big ones in the nest.
Toren continued on his way. He was looking for trees. Yes, things would be so much easier if he had a different supplier of mana. Ryoka, for all that she had more magic in her than Erin, was a candle compared to the bonfires that were Pisces and Ceria. Either one could sustain at least ten Torens quite easily. But Erin was Toren’s source of energy, and that was that.
—-
Toren wasn’t sure how far he’d walked when he first saw the clump of trees in the distance. They appeared as he crested the hill, a blob of brown in the snow. He went towards them swiftly, and saw it was a small forest! Of trees!
True, the trees did seem somewhat odd. Several of them were missing their bark entirely, and Toren wasn’t sure why. His general assumption was that something had eaten the bark. Toren didn’t really care. Trees were wood, and wood was what he needed. If he wanted to think about something—
Well, he tried not to think about anything except what needed doing. Unnecessary thoughts weren’t useful.
It was hard work, cutting through a tree with a dull sword blade. But while it was hard, it wasn’t impossible like the other trees had been.
Toren eventually managed to fell the tree, and even slice off a large bit through sheer dint of repetitive hacking with his sword. In truth it was his enhanced strength that did most of the work; by the time he’d finished cutting a slice of the tree away the sword he was using was well and truly useless.
The skeleton left it behind in the forest. He’d come back later if he needed it, and besides, he needed both hands to drag the large section of tree he’d cut away.
It was slow going, dragging a huge, heavy piece of wood through the snow. More than once Toren slipped while pushing his burden up a hill, and it would roll down right over him as he struggled to get up.
Yes, the journey was filled with struggles. Toren disturbed Shield Spider nests, suffered Faeries dropping snow on his head, and disappointed a bear who only knocked him sprawling once when she realized he wasn’t edible.
He pushed onwards, carrying the piece of tree, watching as a herd of hairy boars followed a Gnoll through the snow, and seeing far in the distance, the giant golems made of snow slowly forming and coming to life as he once had. He would complete his task. He would do it well. That was what Toren knew he had to do.
And at last, he was there.
Toren pushed the part of the tree trunk up next to the inn and wondered whether he’d be able to get another part back before Erin returned. Possibly, if he wasn’t attacked on the way.
But then Toren had a thought. He had wood. Perhaps it was firewood, but who could really tell? Was all wood the same? What if he had…not firewood?
He had to know. Toren found another a hatchet among the weapons he’d collected. He wasn’t sure it would cut better than a sword, but it might do. He began hacking apart the huge piece of tree he’d collected.
How odd! The bark on this tree was quite thick, and it actually came off quite easily. Toren managed to cut a nice big chunk out of the tree and carried it into the inn. He dumped it in the fireplace and looked around. Erin had shown him very carefully how to start fires and keep it going. He just needed the flint and tinder, and perhaps a coal if the kitchen fire was still warm.
It was not, but Toren still managed to get a small blaze going quite quickly. A few wood shavings here, and the flames caught and began eating away at the wood.
And it was firewood! Toren was happy, insofar as he could be happy. Satisfied was probably a better word. He had fire. And the wood was burning brightly, too! Toren gazed at the burni
ng wood and then noticed something odd.
The bark was reacting to the heat. As the temperature rose from frozen to not-so-frozen, the wood and bark seemed to twist a bit, as if alive. Toren tilted his head slightly. Was this a bad thing? He’d never seen it happen with the other wood he’d burned.
Maybe it just needed to be hotter. Toren found the fireplace poker and poked the wood a few times. The bark-covered wood seemed to flex as the flames grew in the fireplace—
—-
Toren woke up later. He wasn’t sure when later was; only that was he was in pieces. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him, though. He felt his head rolling back towards the rest of his body, and then his other bones joined him.
One, two, three…Toren lost count after a hundred and fifty. He had a lot of bones. Some were human, but others were Drake and Gnoll. He didn’t mind that; his ribcage was stronger than a normal Human’s, and he had thicker bones that helped withstand damage.
Most of the time, that was.
When Toren was fully reassembled he finally had time to wonder what had happened. What had happened? He’d been watching the firewood in the fire, and then—
“You blew it up!”
Toren looked around. There was Erin! She was back! She could see he’d found firewood and—
Only now did Toren realize that something was wrong. Something was horribly, terribly wrong. It was a hard thing to notice at first. Here was the inn, and here was the outside. Normally these two things were totally fine, almost mundane. But Toren was quite sure that the outside shouldn’t be connected to the inn so…intimately.
Cold, biting winds howled into the massive gaping hole in the front part of The Wandering Inn. Toren stared into the gaping mess of destroyed furniture and upturned foundations and felt uneasy. That wasn’t right.
Something was horribly wrong.
Erin Solstice stared at her destroyed inn, at a loss for words. Toren watched her, anxiously. Did she knew what had happened. She was just staring at the devastation. Did she want him to clean it up? Was it his fault?
“How did—I just—I told you to get firewood. How did this happen? I mean, it’s just firewood. How could you—”
Erin looked around and caught sight of the bit of tree Toren had brought with him. She turned pale.
“Oh my god. The boom trees. You cut one of them down? They explode! How did you not notice that?”
Oh. Toren didn’t understand exactly, but he put the pieces together. An exploding tree? It hadn’t done anything when he approached, but the [Tactician] inside him told him it probably had to do with the temperature. When it warmed up was when it exploded.
If he’d thought more about the oddness of the trees, maybe Toren would have realized that. So. Not all unnecessary thoughts were unnecessary. It was better to think more. An important lesson. Toren knew that was the case, but right now all he felt was…guilty.
Erin glared down at Toren.
“I—do you have any idea how much it’s going to cost to repair all this? In the winter?”
Toren did not know. All he knew was that Erin was angry. Angrier than when he accidentally started tearing floorboards up for a fire. Angrier than when he kept adding salt to soup because she’d never said when to stop. Even angrier than when she said ‘give me a hand’ and he did.
She was really angry.
Toren was ready. He knew what happened when he made a mistake. Erin would shout at him or throw things, or tell him she hated him. But she didn’t do it this time.
The young woman dressed in thick winter clothing stared at her destroyed inn and slowly sank down and sat on the ground. She sat in the snow, despite Toren’s understanding that she didn’t like cold things. She bowed her head and when she spoke, her voice was thick.
“Go away, Toren.”
Toren hesitated. He’d never heard an order like that before. He’d never…never heard Erin speaking like that, either. He stared at her face. Wetness was rolling down her cheeks and freezing in the wind. Tears?
Tears.
The sight paralyzed Toren. But the words stuck in him. Go away. Go? Go where?
Erin didn’t look at him. She just pointed behind her.
“Go away. Just—just go away.”
Toren didn’t want to go. For once, he didn’t want to obey. But his feet marched him around and took him away. The skeleton slowly began walking as inside of him—
She was crying. That was what was called. Crying. She was upset; sad; dismal; heartbroken; sorrowful; blue. Toren understood the words thanks to the magic that give him understanding. He knew the words, but he’d never known what they meant.
Until now.
Toren walked down the hill slowly, head bowed. The Drake named Relc and the Antinium named Klbkch walked past him, ignoring Toren. The half-Elf, and two Drakes followed, all ignoring Toren, although the female Drake did stare at him and flinch away.
He took no notice. Toren walked on, unseeing, ignoring the slippery ground beneath him. He just walked away. Thinking.
He’d made another mistake. A terrible one. This wasn’t like his other mistakes. This time he’d destroyed part of the inn. He’d destroyed something important.
He—
Had made Erin cry.
Was it a bad thing? It wasn’t part of his orders. He was just supposed to obey Erin. Obey and protect and do non-optimal things. Nothing in his instructions mentioned making her happy or sad. So it didn’t matter.
That was what Toren thought, and he tried thinking that thought quite hard. But it didn’t help. The sight and memory of Erin crying disturbed him in a way he couldn’t explain. It was…
It was wrong. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t how things should have been.
Toren remembered the firewood. He’d found the trees. He’d cut the wood, and dragged it back to the inn. He’d done everything perfectly. If only he’d waited. If only he hadn’t tried to set it on fire.
If—
Toren stumbled and fell. He looked around. Where was he? White snow all around him, rolling hills and valleys around. Somewhere in the plains. He was lost. But that didn’t matter—he could always find Erin again. He was tethered to her.
But she didn’t want him. She’d told him to ‘go away’.
For how long? Forever? Toren didn’t want to go. But he had to. Those were the orders. They were one of the three things he remembered.
The voice called to him. South. He remembered the words.
“Rise once more, from the darkness. Come to me, my eternal army. Gather and know your time of return is at hand.”
It had spoken to him after Skinner died. He remembered it, a voice in his head. It had called the others, all the other undead. They’d left at the command, carrying the magical swords and shields and strange objects glowing with power out of the ruins. South.
Should Toren go south? The voice wasn’t his master. But it still called to him, one of the things he could never forget. It was tempting. So tempting. Erin didn’t want him. If she didn’t want him, he should go. He only made her sad and angry.
It was a thought that only came to him in the darkest hours of the night, when there wasn’t anything left to do.
Why was he doing any of this? Why should he obey the words in his head? They were just words. Why should they bind him?
The voice called to him. He should go.
Toren began walking south, away from the inn, away from Erin. To the voice. The voice would give him purpose, he was sure. But he stopped.
It was just—
Toren was a Level 11 [Skeleton Warrior]. That was what the voice in his head told him. But he never bothered to remember that. It wasn’t important. There were only three things Toren remembered. One was the orders that bound him to this world. The second was the voice which whispered to him, which spoke to an entire continent and called the dead.
The third was the music.
He heard it in the silence of his mind. It came to him even when no one was speaking, whe
n Erin was angry or Toren was fighting. It wasn’t something Toren could control.
Time and again he’d tried to stop the sound. He’d hurled himself off the roof of the inn, stuck his head underwater to let fish bite at his head. He’d hit himself again and again, but the music always played on.
A faint strumming was how it started. A strange sound Toren had never heard before; a rhythmic strumming. And then a man’s voice.
When Erin had sung it, it had been her voice. But Toren had heard another voice, and it was in his head now.
A gentle croon, growing louder. And then the words.
“Somewhere, over the rainbow. Way up high…”
They echoed in his soul. A voice sung to Toren, telling him about a place beyond the rainbow. A place…where dreams could come true.
“How to be brave. How can I love when I’m afraid?”
Piano. Violins. Things Toren didn’t have words for because he’d never heard them before. But the music caught him and held him. He could never forget.
“I have loved you for a thousand years.”
Toren stopped. He stared to the south, towards the voice. But the music was louder. It touched him, and something in Toren was there to listen. Something beyond mere bones and magic.
He did not know its name. But it terrified him. But it made him rejoice. It was what he had that none of the undead had. It was his, and he could never forget it.
And it was a picture, a song, a moment. A young woman sitting in her inn, singing alone and surrounded by people. Singing with one voice that carried a song from another world on her lips.
“I don’t know why you hurt inside or what was said to make you cry…”
Toren clutched at his head. His jaws opened and he howled wordlessly. The music was in him. He could never forget.
Never.
Erin smiled at him as he held out a basket of blue fruit.