Pagewalker

by C. Mahood

  “Shh,” Garret warned, signalling his friends to step away from the fissure. “Who’s there?” he demanded, quickly turning on his heels.

  From the shrubs on the perimeter of the clearing, a figure emerged, body fully obscured by a long, hooded robe.

  “You’re not from around here, are you? Tell me, what brings you here, traveller?” called Garret.

  The figure was hesitant at first but stepped forward as a sign of good will. His legs trembled as with fear and his head turned discreetly from one direction to the opposite, observing. I Immediately recognised the person talking. It was the mad man I had met on the top of the cliff by the standing stone I rested by. He was much younger here. We wore a similar robe. His face was healthy and full, unlike the gaunt skinny and dirty face that I had seen before. He stood tall also, not crouched and weak.

  “My name is Oisin. I am a travelling—” He took a quick glance behind him. I felt as though he was looking directly at me but I wouldn’t even appear as a ghost to them. I was simply an observer. “A travelling bard. I’m a bard. I seem to have lost my way.”

  “Ah,” Garret nodded. “From where do you hail?”

  “I call no place home. You see, I am always on my feet. But these parts of Northland are foreign to me.”

  “As they are too many. And what strange dress do you wear? That is, for a bard.”

  “Then perhaps human bards are as unfamiliar to your kind as these woodlands are to mine.”

  “Or perhaps you’re no bard at all?” Garret narrowed his eyes. A keen sense of deceit made effective his mischief, and he’d be damned to find himself conned into the lies of a stranger who employed the very same guile.

  “Are all of your kind so lacking in manners,” the human snapped, “that simple courtesies can’t be extended to lost travellers?” He checked behind him again then stepped forward aggressively.

  Garret flinched at the man’s tone. Suspicious or not, the man was correct. The luchorpán way did not permit his open expression of doubt. “I apologize, good sir. Perhaps it is best we part ways here.”

  “Perhaps,” the bard muttered, turning his back to the group.

  Garret ushered his people in the opposite direction, bidding they return to the village where it was safe. In the meantime, he hoped to do some personal investigating. Something about the proclaimed bard struck him, and he’d not walk away from what seemed the prologue to adventure. From behind dense foliage, he observed the man search the surrounding area for kindling. He gathered it all at the clearing, seating himself at the edge of the fissure. He held the dry branches an arm’s length away and brought his other hand forward, snapping at the tip of the wood. Two visible sparks shot from the kindling, then the whole tip of the piece burst into flame. Garret fell back at the surprise. Leaves rustled below.

  “Now that you’ve made a fool of yourself, you can come out of hiding.”

  Garret stumbled to his feet, pushing back just enough foliage to peek his head through. Oisin’s eyes locked on to his own. He produced a satchel and threw it on the ground adjacent him, never taking his eyes from Garret.

  “Come.”

  The luchorpán’s interest was piqued. He might have been wrong to have suspected the bard of any trickery. More at ease, he approached the bard, kneeling on the opposite side of the satchel but focused completely on the kindling. “I’ve heard that tricks like that were possible, but I’ve never seen it in person.”

  Oisin laughed. “These are no tricks! Techniques is a much better word.”

  “Techniques, then. What’s in the bag?”

  “See for yourself.” Oisin pushed the satchel closer. “You didn’t leave with your friends, so I trust I can confide a story or two. In my line of work, I don’t get too many such opportunities.”

  “I thought you were a bard?” Garret peeked into the bag but quickly dropped it at the discovery of its contents. “You’re a thief!”

  “You say it so reprehensibly, but I know you’re no different than I. You’ve done your share of wrongdoing.”

  Garret looked down at his feet. “How did you manage to get all this loot?”

  “Short answer: I’m the best there is. Stay a while. I’m sure you’d like to hear the stories.”

  Despite everything that told him to return to the village and forget having ever encountering the thief, curiosity took its hold over the luchorpán. He drew closer to the flame, made himself comfortable, and opened his ears for the human to share his stories. One by one, the man named Oisin removed an item from the bag and began a marvellous tale about how he came to learn of it and the stealth tactics he employed to acquire it. Some of his adventures included near-captures and collateral damage, but every time, the thief managed to procure yet another valuable ware with his life. For several hours, Garret listened attentively to Oisin’s stories. Once the last item had its tale told, he felt comfortable enough to reveal stories of his own, and while they weren’t of the fantastical nature of his acquaintance’s, Oisin laughed and complimented his cunning.

  “Indeed, there are many misplaced possessions lying around. We’re all too comfortable to care. Many of us carry our entire worth with us in jewel. Our comfort comes from knowing that no one will steal from us.”

  “But all those riches,” Oisin sighed, “seem to be going to waste on people who don’t know their value.”

  “Until I saw the very same jewels in your bag and heard the lengths you went to get them, I thought our possessions were little myself. We never had anything to compare it to. The luchorpán have always been considered poor by foreigners.”

  “Yet you’re bristling with wealth! And think of how much more you could have.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Oisin grinned mischievously. “If I can believe the stories you’ve told me tonight, then you have the makings of a successful thief. Such a nonchalant and carefree people would never notice or care that anything was missing.”

  “I’m sorry, I think you misunderstand.” Garret’s apprehension was beginning to return. He couldn’t imagine committing such an act against his own kind, luchorpán who implicitly trusted him. “I could never do something like that.”

  “Even now that you know what their possessions are worth? Think about it. For someone as small as you, the deed would be simple. Not that I won’t help you – and we can split it all down the middle.”

  Garret thought on it a moment longer. “That’ll never work. They keep their jewels too close to them. The jewels practically define who we are. I can’t imagine that any of my people would part with them unless under threat of death. They’d have to be lured and trapped, deceived.”

  Oisin quickly burst out. “And that’s your speciality! Mine is thieving and yours is trickery. How can you not see this? We’d make an unstoppable team. Tell me more about your people. What gets their attention?”

  Something about Oisin drew Garret to him. Perhaps it was their kinship or the way the thief spoke, but there was certainly something contagious there, and that anonymous something drove the luchorpán to believe his alliance with the foreigner just might produce the kind of thrill he’d always sought. “You could lure them with a trail of coins. They’d follow to the last piece of coin and we could have a trap waiting for them there. A cage or something of the sort should work. Here – we could fashion it from branches. If entrapment doesn’t coax them into surrendering their possessions, a convincing threat will.”

  “I knew I could trust you with this,” Oisin laughed, pushing his hands closer to the flame.

  “The only question is whether or not you have enough coin to set this trap. We have to lure them far enough from the village that no one can hear if they call for help.”

  “Of course I have enough! Two bags full of coin!”

  “I’m confident, then. My plan – our plan – will work.”

  The luchorpán village enjoyed quietude in the days that followed; Garrett, enamored by the plotting of his friend, dedicated
himself entirely to the pursuit, utilizing his time to collect and deliver supplies for their trap. “If I take too much all in a hurry,” he had explained to Oisin, “their suspicions will be aroused. Instead, we draw out the plan and make sure nothing seems out of place.” Garrett’s rational for the extended preparatory period also doubled as a means for him to vet potential targets. It was well known in the village that naivety ran thicker in some than others, and Garrett didn’t want to risk coming upon one of the more able-minded. Seven days brought an end to the process.

  Garrett loomed over his accomplice, observing awe-struck as the final touches concealed the underlying mechanism. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, never like this. This is…too well dressed for my tastes.”

  At the thief’s admission of such, Garrett allowed himself another look at the cage. It scarcely resembled one, any bars or gates well hidden from sight. From the outside, even Garrett suspected the construct as little more than a portable dwelling. Even knowing that it served a more devious purpose, he found comfort in the thought of laying his head to rest there.

  “Garrett!” Oisin’s voice snapped the luchorpán from its contemplation. Garrett nodded, bounding off from the forest with a handful of riches. On his retreat to the village, he adorned his feet with glimmering jewels of varied shape and color, giving no concern to the peculiarity of their arrangement – the lack of a pattern would benefit the tale he’d contrived. By time the last of the bait coins had been placed, night covered the land. He lingered on the edges of the forest, excitedly prowling in the darkness as he anticipated the sunrise, and once sun did rise and his people were out and about, he burst through the foliage, waving two hands full of coin.

  * * *

  Even so accustomed to quiet moments and loneliness as was Oisin, the absence of his long-departed cohort stirred unease in his heart. The senses of a thief, he heard many men say, owned something to a keen premonitory habit. Oisin’s own senses tore away at his conscious thoughts, begging that he rise from his place and seek out Garrett at the village. The wait had been far too long and not a single villager had stumbled upon his trap, which he observed from a dense bush. His leg twitched with anxiety, the final nail in the coffin, and Oisin rose from his spot. On cue, footsteps came upon him. From the bushes across the clearing, Garrett emerged, panting heavily and still in possession of a bag of coins.

  “You daft creature!” The thief darted forward, hands outstretched as though to throttle the luchorpán. Garrett hastily back-stepped, waving his arms furiously.

  “Wait, wait! Wait! It’s all silver!”

  “Yes, it’s all silver!” Oisin shot back, steadily approaching.

  “I need gold! Please – stop! I need gold!”

  “Gold? I’ve given you practically everything. This is your fault. I did my part, boy, and did the brunt of the task. You had but one job and failed to even sell a simple story.”

  “Wait, Oisin, you don’t understand.”

  “No, I think I understand just fine. A week’s hard work constructing this elaborate trap, all wasted.”

  “We can still make good of this. Here – much of your silver remains. But I assure you my people will be more taken with gold coins. You showed me all of your purse, and I know a few gold coins won’t noticeable lighten your load.”

  Oisin’s breathing didn’t calm, but his advance did. Garrett made good of this sign to coax his accomplice into placidity, talking him through their new process, one that pulled no punches, so to speak, and would have every luchorpán clamoring for an opportunity to acquire the marvelous fortune. Garrett spilled his story with blemishes unparalleled, swinging his arms about to illustrate the scope of their fortunes.

  “Enough talk,” Oisin eventually intervened, digging a hand into his bag. “I’ll trust you once more that my fortunes may be reversed – and I pray that they are else your safety will be at my blade’s discretion.”

  Garrett didn’t take the warning lightly; he could sense in Oisin a devotion to high performance and loyalty. And so it was that he came upon a purse of gold and with it littered the ground approaching his village. Pieces of silver remained from his first outing, and he was resolute in leaving them there. A fiend dashing through the night, spilling coin along the way, would hardly take notice to the little pieces. His friends in the village would surely assume – or so Garrett hoped – such a fiend paid nightly visits upon their place, a thief, or a villain of other sorts. Once he had the trail laid, he returned to the forest encampment to lie in wait with Oisin. The foreigner burst with energy, over-eager for the possibility of a big haul.

  Deep into the dark of night, rustling came from the bush. Garrett and Oisin dug deeper into their shadowy spots, watching through parted branches for the creature’s emergence. In due time, it came to them, a luchorpán youth, bedazzled by the trail of coin and the clearing to which it led. He approached excitedly, eyeing each individual coin up to their end: the tent. He stood there quizzically, cocking his head at the construct. Oisin’s breathing seemed to stop, but Garrett could sense the excitement boiling through his pores. They watched together as the luchorpán took several more steps towards the tent. His expression had changed, quite suddenly, from intrigue to fear, and he dared not step closer towards the device. In an unexpected rush, he turned around and darted away back through the bushes. Oisin’s breathing returned at this misfortune, though he continued to hold out hope for the luchorpán’s return until the rustling bush could be heard no longer.

  The duo proceeded in expected fashion, Oisin berating his luchorpán accomplice for more oversights. He neared the point of fulfilling his promise and drawing blade against Garrett; Garrett, in turn, quelled those misgivings.

  “My people may be wary, but I’ll not deny their greed. With enough motivation, we can have them ensnared. Our only goal now is to provide them that luxury.”

  “Silver and gold both have failed us! How many more failures before the month leaves us? I’m weary of this game, Garrett. If not by deception, I’ll have your people by force!”

  “It needn’t come to that. I assure you, a few more preparations, and we’ll have them where we desire. For starters, a larger tent.”

  “This tent was a week to build!”

  “And asks for less to expand. Look upon it. What creature, if any, could call that place its home?”

  “What, except of yours?”

  “And yet it’s not our architecture. We would never steal from one another, but to take from an outsider would be seldom frowned upon. If we can provide that illusion, they’re ours. And the gold and silver, perhaps it isn’t exotic enough. Those jewels that adorn your garment – I saw similar kinds in your bag and satchel. Those foreign pieces would do us a great service in creating the effect.”

  Oisin turned away to think on the matter, reluctant to have his most valuable possessions strewn throughout the forest in a cat-and-mouse game, and yet he had no other options but to comply. He knew how much his success depended on Garrett’s insights, and although they’d failed enough to bring his blood to a boil, the thief was not the type to leave such matters inconclusive. “Very well,” he muttered. “Take my best jewels and leave them upon the trail.”

  “There’s no doubt, my friend. This will be the long-awaited moment. The two of us together should be able to fashion a large enough tent within a matter of days.”

  Oisin nodded and they set off to work, expanding the tent threefold. It seemed a fortress in the modest woods, something none of the villagers would be able to turn away from, especially with the wealth of jewels preceding it. On the third night, Oisin and Garrett took to their usual places.

  After weeks of planning and preparation, the haul Oisin dreamed of finally ushered its way into reality, with a large pack of luchorpán bursting into the clearing at once, arms filled with silver, gold, and jewels alike. Taking no chances with the possibility of escape, the rogue quietly made his way around the circumference of the
clearing, making his way behind the group. His eyes bulged with each step closer the luchorpán came to the tent. Silently, he counted the moments down.

  “Three. Two. One.” Oisin extended a foot from his hiding spot, anticipating the capture of his prey. But no sooner did he emerge from the shadows than did a blinding light and cloud of smoke encase him once more.

  He fell backwards, coughing and waving away at the treacherous gray. “Dammit! Dammit!” he cried, moving slowly towards the tent. As the smoke fell away from the tent, he stood perplexed before a singular luchorpán, Garrett, who shared his expression.

  “The jewels,” Garrett moaned. Then his face turned sour and he paced about the tent in a fit. “They’re all gone!”

  “No more games!” Oisin cried out, darting past Garrett, throwing him to the ground in the process. He came upon the trap in search of remains of his haul. Only too late did he hear the mechanism go off, encasing him within the contraption. A heavy weight bore down on him which he attempted, to no avail, heaving away. Gravity forced itself upon him, wringing from the thief surprise and sapping him of his strength.

  In good time, Oisin came to, a mass of figures amassed on the outskirts of the contraption. They all looked in on him, mischievous grins crossing their faces. The thief recognized the people immediately as the luchorpán; from the size of their number, he safely assumed the entirety of the village had emerged from hiding to ridicule him. In a strange turn of events, they threaten him with continued entrapment, his freedom hinging on the condition that he surrender what was left of his gold and worldly artefacts. Though the thief’s pride in his earnings keep his steeling will alive for some hours, the pangs of hunger ruptured that devotion, and he inevitably submit to the will of the luchorpán, cursing them all the while.