Isem

by Richard Young

  ***

  Two days of walking day and night had Isem on the brink of exhaustion. Roots caught at his feet, making him stumble, and branches pulled at his arms. He needed to rest, and he needed food. He'd been able to survive on berries and roots so far, but it wouldn't sustain him much longer. He knew he could probably hunt with his magic, but he was reluctant to use it again. Night was falling on the second day when the light of a village appeared through the trees.

  Isem lurched toward it, no longer caring if he was seen. This would be the village of Tren, if he had been going south as he thought. Surely the news couldn't have spread so far so quickly.

  Isem slipped in the door of the small inn and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. The room was eerily quiet, with no performers and the only talk taking place in hushed tones at a few tables. Torches burned on each of the walls, and a fire burned merrily in the corner. Nobody paid the slightest attention to Isem, other than the innkeeper, who eyed him as he walked up.

  "The name's Jel. What can I do for you?" he said, leaning on the counter. He wore a smile on his face, but it didn't touch his eyes.

  "Just a meal and a room for the night, please," Isem said as he fumbled with his pack. He fished around and pulled a few coins out. "How much?"

  "The cheapest room is a dachal a night." He eyed the coins in Isem's hand. "I'm guessing that's the one you want."

  "Please." Isem kept his eyes down, trying not to look conspicuous, but still trying to stay hidden. He placed a steel coin on the counter.

  Jel scooped up the coin and inspected the smith's mark. It was his right to check for forged coins, of course, but the smell of food was making Isem's stomach growl. After a moment, he placed the coin behind the counter.

  "You're from Luciard, then?" he asked. "Nasty business, what happened, eh?"

  Isem jumped. "What?" he said, his mouth turning dry. Frantically, he glanced around the room, checking the exits.

  "The fire," Jel continued. "Took out half the village before they could get it under control. Heard it was some Madman snapping. Some say he killed himself with it, others that he's still out there somewhere. You're lucky you left when you did, kid."

  "Yeah," Isem mumbled.

  "Did you have family there or something?"

  Isem nodded.

  "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, then. But most everyone escaped with their lives. I'm sure they're fine."

  "I- well, thank you for the news," Isem said.

  Jel looked sympathetic as he reached behind the counter and came up with a room key, which he handed to Isem. "Hey, you look starving," he said. "Why don't you go have a seat, and get Tammy to bring you some food. It's on the house, okay?"

  Isem nodded numbly, took the key and thanked Jel. He crossed the room and sat in one of the chairs at an empty table, propping his staff against the chair, trying to control his thoughts. The fire was his doing; it almost had to be. How many more deaths were on his conscience now? Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice the woman coming up to his table until she was right beside him.

  "I'm Tammy," she said. "What can I get you?" She was far from pretty, with a nose that was too big for her face and too much fat in her cheeks, but her smile was warm.

  "Um," Isem said, bringing himself back to the present. "What's on the menu for tonight?"

  Tammy smiled again. "This evening we have fresh pork, with a side of a baked potato, or a chicken stew with bread."

  "The pork, please."

  "And what can I get you to drink?"

  "Just water's fine."

  She smiled again. "I'll be right back," she said.

  Isem's mind wandered as he waited for the food to arrive, but the only conclusion he came to was to keep moving as he was. He still couldn't go back, even to see if his family was all right.

  The food was delicious, but Isem barely tasted it. It wasn't just worries about home that was bothering him. Someone was watching him.

  The man was plain-looking, with dark brown hair and brown clothes. He could have passed for a farmer or a merchant. Several times throughout the meal Isem had spotted him watching. The first few times Isem had dismissed it as simple curiosity. But as the evening went on, Isem's suspicions grew.

  By the time he had finished his meal, Isem was sure the man watching him was either a Qui or a spy for the Asylum. I should never have come into town, he berated himself. He thanked Tammy for her service and left a couple of coins on the table for her, then made his way back to the counter where Jel still stood, trying not to glance back over his shoulder as he walked.

  "I'm afraid I won't need the room anymore," Isem said. "I've decided I need to go back home as soon as possible and check on everyone." As he lied, he glanced back at the man. He was still in the same seat, and he was still watching.

  "I thought you might," Jel said. He drew a dachal from behind the counter as Isem handed him the key. "Here's your money back," he said, flipping the coin to Isem. It was a different coin, no longer bearing the mark of Luciard's smith, but instead a mark Isem didn't recognize.

  "Thanks," he said, then turned toward the door. To his relief, the man at the table made no attempt to follow.

  Isem headed straight into the woods outside of Tren, trying to throw off any pursuit. Fortunately, as the night passed and broke into dawn, there had been no sign that he was followed. Exhaustion finally caught up with him, and he collapsed under a small pile of brush. He was asleep almost immediately.

  ***

  Isem's eyes snapped open at the sound of the breaking branch. The sky was dark, and the landscape lit only by the light of the moon. He had slept far too long. Isem lay on the ground trying to breathe normally, listening. Animal? he thought, Or human? After a few moments, he could hear the slight rustle of leather, the faint clank of steel gauntlets. They're here. Forcing himself to breathe deep, he sank into his mind. His staff lay mere inches away from his hand. The steps came closer. Isem briefly considered using magic, but decided against it. Setting the entire forest on fire was not a good plan.

  Faster than Isem had ever moved, he grabbed his staff from the ground and rolled to his feet. They were ready for him, but they were expecting magic, not a physical assault. The closest one went down with a blow to the side of his head. Even with the protection of his helm, he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The delay, however, gave the other Qui a chance to draw his sword.

  Isem briefly contemplated fleeing as he considered his opponent. Steel covered the man, from his head to... well, his shins. His feet looked oddly out of place in soft leather boots, but the man gave him no chance to wonder about it. He lunged, swinging his massive two-handed broadsword. Isem moved aside and parried with his staff, then set himself on the offensive. No chance of running now.

  Isem attacked again and again, but failed to inflict any damage on his heavily armored opponent, even when the blows landed. After another parry, Isem faked a swing, then turned it into a thrust into the man's unprotected foot. The Qui's eyes went wide behind his helm as bone crunched under the staff. Anger replaced surprise, and before Isem could withdraw his staff, the broadsword hacked it in half.

  Isem stared stupidly at the half staff in his hands. His eyes jerked back up in time to see a gauntleted fist coming towards his face. The steel caught him a glancing blow as he jerked back, and the world swam in front of his eyes. Before everything went black, Isem though he saw a third figure through the trees. One with a white glowing sword.