The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  The three who sat at her fire stared as the faerie flew back towards Ryoka, blood dribbling down the faerie’s chin. Ivolethe wanted to land on Ryoka’s shoulder again, but the girl wouldn’t let her.

  “Now here is a thing that need not be here.”

  Ivolethe screamed something like a curse at the young woman sitting across the fire. It made Ryoka’s ears ring, but the young woman simply frowned at the Frost Faerie.

  “Begone, thing of ice and cold.”

  The flames flickered as the wind blew. Ivolethe shouted, but the gust of wind blew her away. Ryoka turned and saw Ivolethe’s pale blue light flying backwards, her wings beating helplessly. Ivolethe was blown into the darkness outside of the fire. And she did not return.

  “There. Much better.”

  “Ivolethe!”

  Ryoka was on her feet. She started away from the fire, but stopped as she saw the vast darkness lurking beyond. If she went out, Ryoka knew she would never find her way back. It was too dark.

  “Do not worry about that thing. Come back, sit with us. The fire is growing low.”

  Ryoka turned. It was true. The fire was dying, though it felt like she had just fed it moments ago. The girl stepped back towards the fire, but hesitated.

  Why were the three here? How had they…she blinked and frowned. Her head felt cloudy, and she was tired. And cold. She couldn’t think straight, but the three seemed oddly comforting to her. She took a step forwards, hesitating as she narrowed her eyes. They were so familiar.

  “Do I…know you?”

  “Of course.”

  The young woman looked amused. She shifted, exposing scars on her arms and the side of her face. She smiled at Ryoka as if they were old friends.

  “We know each other, even if you do not remember. But sit. Sit, and join us.”

  “Yes, join us. Stoke the fire, and sit with us.”

  The other two echoed her words. Ryoka hesitated, and drew nearer to the fire. It was growing low. The old woman stretched her hand out to Ryoka, staring her in the eye.

  “I offer again. Hold my hand, child. Be free of your worries with me.”

  She held her hand out to Ryoka through the flames. It was a hand that promised Ryoka relief. A place to sit, somewhere to rest…Ryoka hesitated.

  The young woman was next. Her hand was strong and stretched out to Ryoka, scars shining in the fading firelight.

  “Grasp your hand to mine, Ryoka Griffin. Fight, and walk with me through a thousand lands.”

  Ryoka stared into the young woman’s eyes and saw the same promise reflected there. To struggle, to fight—

  She nearly took it, but the third thing sitting at her fire made an offer. And it called to Ryoka without words. It told her to come over, to sit with it, to…know. To find what was missing, to find what never was.

  It was there, telling Ryoka to touch it. To let go. To be…

  Ryoka took a step towards the fire, and then another. The three waited for her to make her choice. And Ryoka would take one of the hands. Why not? Only…

  Something was running down her neck. Absently, Ryoka reached up and touched something wet and warm.

  Blood. Her blood. She stared at her fingers and saw the dark liquid on her fingertips. Why? Oh. Right. Ivolethe had bit her.

  And seeing her blood triggered something in Ryoka’s head. She frowned as she chased after a thought. Her mind felt foggy, as if she were in a trace, or sleepwalking. But there was something…what was it?

  Oh. Yes. Ryoka stared at the three sitting at the fire. She had to ask. It felt so obvious that Ryoka was almost ashamed, but she had to ask. It was important.

  “Hey. Why could you see Ivolethe?”

  They stared at her. The old woman sighed. The young woman sighed. And the third thing made no sound at all.

  “Ah, it is too late. Look, child. The flames have gone out.”

  Ryoka saw the old woman’s hand point. She saw a tendril of fire licking at the edge of a stick that was burnt to ash and then—

  The fire went out.

  The light vanished from the world. There was only the faintest glow, of near-dead embers. Suddenly, the darkness was all around Ryoka, pressing in. Reaching for her. She shuddered and stumbled towards the campfire. She had to ignite it again. She couldn’t be in the darkness.

  There were…things out here.

  But Ryoka halted. Her feet refused to move as, by the faintest glow of the campfire, she saw who really sat there. Who she’d been talking to this entire time.

  There were no people sitting with her. They had never been there. As the light went out, their true forms were revealed.

  Dead things sat around the fire. They were dead. But it was far worse than a corpse. Because they were dead but still moving.

  Two faces and a…thing stared at Ryoka around the smoking remains of the light. One reached out to her and Ryoka recoiled. The hand that stretched out was not living, but decayed skin, rotting flesh. Bone.

  The things were dead. They were rotting and stank of it. They stared at Ryoka, and she stared at them.

  It was dark. The darkness was closing in. The embers were fading, and Ryoka could sense things around her. Things not seen, but terrible. Far worse than the thing that sat next to the fire.

  She had to have light. But Ryoka refused to go near the fire. She refused to touch the rotting things. But she needed light.

  “Magic.”

  The word was a whisper in her dry throat. But—yes, that was right! Magic! Magic could save her. Ryoka raised her hands. She called out.

  “[Light]. [Light]!”

  Nothing happened. Ryoka stared at her hands. She couldn’t feel the magic in her, couldn’t reach into that wellspring inside her soul and draw it out. It was as if there was nothing there.

  “There is no magic here. Only the fire.”

  The voice that came from the thing that had been the young woman was rasping, dead. As rotten as the body that formed the words. It gestured to the fire.

  “Light it, traveler.”

  “Yes, light it. Or the darkness and the storm will take us all. You can feel it, can’t you? They are closing in. They are coming.”

  Yes, Ryoka could feel it. She could feel things watching her. Drawing closer. The fire was fading. When it was out completely, they would come. They feared the light. But they wanted her.

  Hands reached for her across the fire. Dead things spoke. One looked at her and it knew her name.

  “Choose, Ryoka Griffin. Let the fire die and we shall all face the darkness. Or come and sit with us.”

  The second hand reached out. It still beckoned. Still promised. But the thing that held it was dead.

  “Choose.”

  And the last thing sat, true form revealed. Ryoka stared at it and knew where it had come from. From beyond the edge of the world. From the places not meant to be looked into. It told her to reach out and enter those places.

  She wanted to touch it. She feared to touch it. She did not want to go near the rotting things. But the darkness was closing in. She had no choice. Ryoka had to…

  Choose.

  —-

  They stood around Erin, holding their gifts. She stared at them, part of her unsure of what was happening. The other part…knew.

  All they wanted was a small thing. So small, and yet so precious. It was all Erin had. All anyone had, really. But this was hers.

  “What do you want? I mean…what do you want to trade for it? It’s very special to me.”

  They nodded. It was special. The three spoke, almost as one. Telling her what they would give her in exchange for it.

  Her soul.

  The first was the man with the beard.

  “I offer an umbrella made from the sun’s light. To bring day into blackest night.”

  He handed Erin an umbrella. She took it, and opened it. Sunlight, pure sunlight, the kind Erin had never truly seen, streamed down from under the umbrella’s canopy. She lifted it over her head, and laughed as the
sunlight shone around her. For a second, she was warm and she stood in the daylight. So long as Erin held the umbrella open, it would always be bright around her. The light would burn away her fears, burn away untruths and falsehoods. Then she closed the umbrella and the world was dark.

  The second was the man with the book.

  “I have here a hangman’s rope. For those who live without any hope.”

  He handed Erin a long, thick rope with a noose on the end. Erin tossed the end over one of the beams in the rafters and the others helped her tie it securely. She stood on a table, and put her head in the noose. Then she stepped off the table and hung there.

  She was dead. Erin hung in her inn, dead. Minutes passed, then hours. Days. Years. When she took the rope off her neck, Erin smiled. No one had known she was alive. They all thought she was dead. While she hung there, no enemy would find her. It was perfect. She let the noose hang over her head as she turned.

  The third, the man who danced as he walked.

  “I hold a horn made of ancient bone. A thing to protect both hearth and home.”

  He handed Erin a horn of pure white bone. It was cold to the touch, but when she put it to her lips and blew, the call echoed through her inn. It was a call that rose above the loudest horns of the battlefield, which travelled the world. Erin knew that in any part of the world, her friends would hear her call. She lowered the horn as the call echoed.

  So. There they were. An umbrella that was as bright as the sun. It could chase away all darkness, reveal all lies. No magic could stand against it, and it warmed the skin and brought light. And the second, a noose. So Erin could kill herself and hide from her enemies. She could live in peace so long as she hung from it. And the third, a horn to call her allies and those she loved from wherever she stood.

  Three gifts. Each one priceless. Erin stared at the offerings. She stared at the men.

  “And all you want is a soul for it?”

  They nodded. The three stared at her, waiting. Erin wavered. She stared at the umbrella, the noose, and then the horn. They were so precious. She wanted each one, each for a different reason. And the price was so simple. So small. She had a soul. It was hers to give. Why not trade it? Why not give it?

  Her hand wavered as she reached out—

  —-

  “Did you hear that?”

  The young woman looked up, heart beating wildly as she stared around the darkness. The three sitting at the fire looked up.

  “I hear nothing.”

  “I see nothing.”

  “But I heard it. I know I did.”

  Ryoka spun wildly, searching for the origin of the horn call. There was nothing. Just the darkness, closing in. She stared back at the fire.

  So dark. It was almost completely dark. If it were regular night, Ryoka wouldn’t have ever seen the last glimmer of flame in the coals. But here, there were things darker than black. That she could still see meant there was light.

  “Hurry, traveler. If the fire goes out, you are lost. We are lost.”

  She knew it was true. Ryoka felt something behind her. She stared at the three. If she drew close they would touch her. But what other choice did she have?

  There was something behind her. Not just something. Many things.

  “Okay. Okay! I’ll…”

  She stumbled towards the fire, away from the darkness. The three smiled as Ryoka drew closer. They reached for her, but before she drew in range of their hands, Ryoka stopped.

  “Don’t—don’t touch me.”

  “But we want to.”

  “Yes, come close. Just a bit closer.”

  Ryoka drew back. She knew the things were right behind her now, but she could not be touched. She grabbed for a piece of wood. She just needed to put it on the fire, but the hands…

  “I’ll start the fire again. But if you touch me I’ll put out the fire and we’ll all be in the dark. Understand?”

  She heard something like a sigh. But the hands withdrew. It was the old woman’s voice, rotted and sighing that addressed Ryoka next.

  “Very well. We have time. But hurry.”

  Ryoka knew she had moments. She flung the wood on the fire and desperately knelt by it, trying to rekindle the flames. She grabbed at the potions at her belt, threw them onto the flames. She thought she felt a touch on her sh—

  The flames burst into life, high and fierce. Ryoka fell back as the fire roared into life. The alchemist’s fire burned bright, but was already fading. Ryoka hurried to toss wood on the flames as the three sighed and drew closer to the life-giving flames once more.

  At last, the fire was stoked. This time Ryoka built it high, tossing almost all the wood she had onto it. It could not go out.

  The three sat so close to the flames that they licked at their forms. Now Ryoka looked again, the old woman and the young warrior looked…normal. Their skin was intact, and when they spoke it was with soft, gentle voices. But Ryoka knew what she had seen.

  “So. The fire is kindled. But it will not last through the night.”

  “No. You have not enough wood. Not enough fuel.”

  It was true. Ryoka only had a stick of wood in her hands. And the fire was already dying. The darkness was sucking it away. The storm was engulfing the light.

  Again, the hands reached for her.

  “We can keep them at bay.”

  “We can protect you. Touch us.”

  Touch them.

  Ryoka shuddered. She took a step back and glanced into the darkness. Things looked back at her.

  “She wavers again. And again.”

  The old woman sighed. But then she smiled. She looked sideways at the third thing and then spoke to Ryoka.

  “My companion has a gift for you.”

  “A…gift?”

  Ryoka started, looking at the thing that sat next to the old woman and the young one. But yes. It hadn’t moved, but now it held something. It reached out to Ryoka, and she knew it wanted to place it in her hand.

  “Go on. Take it. It is a gift, freely offered.”

  The two sat back. Something had changed. Ryoka hesitated as she drew near the third.

  “What if I don’t want the gift?”

  “You must take it. It is ill luck to refuse a gift.”

  Neither woman reached for her, despite being near to the fire. Ryoka hesitated, but part of her wanted to know. She held her hand out, palm up, and the thing—

  Something landed in Ryoka’s palm. She stumbled back as the other two sat up, reaching for her again. Something was in Ryoka’s hand. Something cold and…what was it?

  It was familiar. Ryoka stared down at her palm as she drew nearer to the fire. She couldn’t go too far away or…

  The light illuminated two pale, long things in Ryoka’s palm. She thought they were worms, but they were too odd. Too different. What were they? She edged a bit closer to the light and then she realized what they were.

  Fingers. Two fingers, curled up in the center of her hand.

  She stared down at the fingers in her hand. They were pale with the cold, but familiar. Long and slender, tanned from being out in the sun. And at the place where they ended—

  Torn flesh. Bite marks. Ryoka could see bone on the end of one of the fingers. It had been ripped away from its hand. She shuddered, and her hand, her right hand with its two missing fingers throbbed. She curled her hand—

  And the fingers moved. They curled up. Ryoka jerked. She stared at them, and slowly uncurled her hand. On her palm, the two fingers uncurled slowly.

  “A fitting gift.”

  The dried voice made Ryoka look up. The old woman was staring at her, smiling wide.

  “Are you not pleased? Is it not what you have lost?”

  “I—”

  The fingers lay in Ryoka’s palm. She hesitated. Ryoka wanted nothing more than to throw them away, but she remembered what the old woman and Ivolethe had said. So she shoved them into a pocket, feeling them move as she did.

  “Now, child. It is t
ime to choose.”

  They reached out again. And this time Ryoka knew there was no choice. The fire was fading.

  Ryoka stared at the hands. She stared at the darkness. Both were horrific. Both were…

  “No.”

  She said it out loud. The three looked at her. She heard a sigh.

  “No? So you choose the storm and the dark. It is not better, traveller. Not better at all.”

  The young woman shook her head as she said that. But Ryoka shook her head as well.

  “No. I choose the third option. I choose this.”

  She had the wooden stick in her hand. Ryoka stuck it into the fire, keeping her distance from the things that reached for her. The end of the stick ignited, and Ryoka pulled a flaming torch out.

  The three stared at her, all disappointed. The old woman spoke.

  “You will not escape the darkness with that. The flame will go out very soon.”

  “Better that than staying here.”

  Ryoka stepped back from the fire. She stared at the three things, huddled around the flames

  “You’re welcome to the fire. But I won’t join you. And I won’t get lost in the darkness.”

  “So you say. But you had better hurry, child. Your time is running out.”

  Already the flame was burning down the stick. Ryoka turned and ran. She ran away from the fire, into the complete darkness around her. She knew things were following her, reaching for her and recoiling from the flame. But she ran and ran, knowing what was behind her was just as bad.

  The three sat at the fire, huddling around it as the flames burnt down. And then the fire went out.

  —-

  Erin reached for the horn. But her hand paused. She turned to the umbrella, and then back to the horn. When she reached out the second time, it was for the umbrella.

  The man with the beard smiled as Erin picked it up. He reached for her, but she handed the umbrella to him.

  “Here. I’m sorry. But I can’t take it.”

  He blinked, surprised. Erin picked up the noose and unwrapped it from the beam. She handed it to the man with the book, and then picked up the horn. She stared at it for a long time and then handed it to the dancing man. All three held their gifts and looked at her.