The Wanderer's Tale: Esmor

by Rex Foote

  ***

  Hark‘s years of living in the woods, enhanced by the innate wood sense all Elreni possessed, meant that he found his way back to the camp in about half an hour even after he stopped at the spot where he’d left his clothes, donning them on the way back. He returned to see that Esme had started to stack firewood against one side of the tree and had laid out a decent pile of foraged herbs, roots, and other useful items next to the wood. He had just deposited the doe on the ground when she came back around the other side of the tree carrying an armful of firewood. Upon seeing him, she smiled in relief.

  “I am just about to skin it; would you like to watch?” he asked, stretching his back after carrying the animal for so long.

  She hesitated at that, her desire to learn warring with her discomfort at watching an animal being skinned. However, curiosity won out, and she nodded. Binding the doe’s legs to a sturdy branch with strips of cloth from his shirt, he motioned to Esme to pick up one end, and they started to walk out of camp. As they walked, she asked, “See anything interesting when you were out?”

  He paused for a second before replying. “No, nothing at all.”

  ***

  Reining in his mount and signalling for the rest of his patrol to halt, Sergeant Colt Bridges surveyed the grisly scene before him. In the light of the setting sun, on a small section of much-trampled roadside, he could see the gore-splattered halves of a human split straight down the middle with blood, bones, and organs scattered nearby. Not far was the pulped meat, broken bones, and mangled uniform of another, as well as the remains of a campfire. The sergeant pulled off his helmet and wiped his brow, squinting in the late evening light. He and his men had been sent out after the apparently mad Gate Sergeant Anita Storkhelm, who had left the northern gate with commandeered horses , and some vague tale about going after someone. When the patrol hadn’t returned, the captain of the City Watch had dispatched his squad to find out what had happened, and things had only gotten stranger when the damn Mages’ Guild had attached one of their members to his patrol. Suspecting more was going on here, Sergeant Bridges had led his men out the previous evening and ridden through the night to arrive the next evening at what looked to be the final resting place of the missing patrol. The mage, named Averie Lane, dismounted and started to pace about the campsite, poking around the fire while giving the human remains a wide berth.

  “The Last Mother’s embrace,” he swore softly to himself, then to the rest of his patrol, “Spread out and find the others. We only have two bodies here, and four men left with Storkhelm.”

  His men dismounted and started to probe about the surrounding area. Soon there came the cries signalling that they had found the other bodies. Turning to the mage, Bridges asked, “So, what does our esteemed mage think did all this?”

  She paused at this and turned to face him, her expression grave.

  “How long have your served as a guardsman, Sergeant?”

  “Long enough, ma’am.”

  She nodded as if his reply confirmed something to her. Then she came over to him and in a hushed tone said, “Long enough to know that the horrors that dwell in the Skittering Dark don’t always stay there?”

  He shuddered at that. Everyone knew about the Skittering Dark, the name given to the vast network of tunnels, caves, and caverns that ran underneath Esmor and probably the whole of Unith. He also had heard rumours of the monstrous things that dwelled within the darkness. As a city guard, he also knew that only the most desperate, or mad, criminals fled down there, for while they knew that no guard would pursue them there, they also knew that there was damned good reason for that. Muttering a prayer to Pagorr, the God of Light, he replied, “Yeah, I had heard that. I was kinda hoping it was only a rumour.”

  She shook her head grimly. “It is no mere rumour, Sergeant.”

  He looked at her and saw in her face deep worry and concern. Her time thus far with his squad had been spent entirely in the kind of silent concentration that told the sergeant this was more than just an assignment from the Guild to her. There was something else going on here, something personal.

  “Who was it?” he asked, more hoping that his question would get an answer than going for anything specific. She looked up sharply at him, then her expression turned to one of respectful regard.

  “I guess I can’t hide anything from you. It’s my daughter. She was kidnapped by an Elreni, and I think that she was camped here when the attack took place.”

  “Kidnapped, you say? That’s pretty serious. Why wasn’t I told?”

  Her eyes narrowed in anger, and she scowled as she hissed, “Because no one believes me. They think she left willingly, but I know her better!”

  Bridges decided not to pry further, and a moment later two of his guards came back supporting a limping form between them. Recognizing who it was, and muttering an oath under his breath at the state of her, he dismounted and hurried over, Averie a step behind him.

  “Anita?” he asked. “What happened to you?”

  Sergeant Anita Storkhelm looked awful. One side of her face was covered in dried blood and dirt while the other half was pale from shock and blood loss. One arm was nothing more than mangled flesh and bone, and one leg was clearly broken.

  Gazing blankly at him, she said, “We found them, the girl and the Elreni. But then, then…” She paused, the horror of her memories overcoming her briefly before she visibly regained control of herself and carried on. “Then we were attacked by a monster, at which point I stopped caring about the pair we pursued.”

  “But why were you out here in the first place? No one authorised you to pursue anyone, let alone an accused kidnapper and victim.”

  Storkhelm’s gaze settled on someone behind Bridges and she spat. “It was her, and her Crone-damned lard cake of a husband. They paid me to go and retrieve their daughter, and look where it got me!”

  He turned to look back at Averie, who nodded once before saying, “It is as she says, Sergeant, my husband did pay her and her men to retrieve my daughter. But do recall that we did and still do believe that she has been taken against her will. Would you do any less in my place?”

  “That damn well doesn’t matter,” Bridges snapped. “What does matter is getting Storkhelm back to Caladaria now; we can sort out this mess later when no one is in danger of dying.”

  As he turned and started to walk back to his horse, Averie grabbed his shoulder and, fixing him with a desperate gaze, said, “But, Sergeant, my daughter is still out there. We need to find her before anything happens to her.”

  When he had first heard of her daughter’s plight, Bridges had felt some small amount of sympathy for her. Now that it was revealed to have led to bribes, the loss of four good men, and the possible maiming of a sergeant—who while it had to be acknowledged did take a bribe, was otherwise a good guard—all his sympathy had dried away.

  “You want to buy someone to go and find your daughter? Hire some adventurers.” To the rest of his squad, he said, “Mount up, we ride through the night to Caladaria!”

  Chapter Seven

  2nd Day of Daaris. The Season of Light. Year 250

  This, Esme decided, was funny. Hark had been so proud of his kill and had spent the entire time showing Esme how to skin an animal wearing a triumphant grin on his face, only to now have that grin be replaced by a frown of annoyance as he had no way to start a fire to cook with. Of course, she had a way, but she was content to let him stumble around trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. Despite the situation they found themselves in, the day had gone well. After skinning the doe, Hark had quickly cleaned the skin and hung it out to dry in the afternoon sun. Then in an act he no doubt thought valiant but one that she just found funny, he had sacrificed his shirt to carry the strips of meat he had harvested from the doe as they returned to camp, with him carrying the meat and her carrying the rolled-up skin. That same skin was hanging stretched out on a frame of branches awaiting a fire to dry it out. Then the evening’s chill, slight as it
may be, started to seep through her ragged clothes and she decided that it was time to end Hark’s search. Without a word, she stood, walked over to the fire pit, crouched by it, and closed her eyes. Drawing upon the small amount of energy she needed for the spell, she envisaged the campfire sparking into life, felt that familiar mental click, and released the spell. She opened her eyes to see Hark staring at her with a look equal parts annoyance and relief on his face.

  “What?” she asked innocently. “Did you forget I was a mage?”

  She walked back and sat where she had been earlier while he set the spits over the now happily burning fire. Sitting down, he shot her an irked look.

  “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

  Winking, she replied, “Because it was far more entertaining watching you stomp around looking for something to light the fire with. That, and the look on your face when I lit it was well worth the wait.”

  She laughed at his pained expression, her first real one since her first day out from Caladaria, and soon he shared in her amusement, smiling at her ruefully as the firelight played over his features.

  “So,” he said a few moments later. “I am sure you want to know what I have planned.”

  She nodded and he carried on.

  “I think we should stay here for a few days, gather supplies, rest for a bit, and maybe even expand on your survival education. Then we should try and head back to Caladaria.”

  She bit her lip at that last bit. Everything else sounded great to her, but just as before when the subject of returning home had come up, she started to feel, what, unsettled? As if somehow, after all she had endured, she didn’t want to go back. It was the strangest thing she had felt knowing that she should go back, even wanting to return to a degree, yet still feeling like they should carry on to Mymt. After a few moments’ silence, she let the matter rest. She would return to Caladaria, misgivings or no. After all, she had to clear Hark’s name at the very least. Yes, that would be her reason for returning.

  “Yes, that sounds good,” she said, and Hark smiled.

  “Good. Oh, and one more thing. When the hide is ready, I will make you some new clothes.”

  “Couldn’t you just patch them up? Surely they aren’t that far gone.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Hark replied, “I could, but I doubt that greenish brown was their original colour, so while I could patch them, that wouldn’t help with the colour or the smell.”

  This time, it was Hark’s turn to laugh as a hurt look crossed her face, but after she sniffed tentatively at herself and confirmed that she did indeed smell that bad, she admitted defeat. The rest of the evening passed quickly. After eating their meal, Hark rose and, taking the waterskins, set out into the night to return a few minutes later, waterskins filled. He then put a small dose of ground rivergrass into each one to make the water safe to drink and put them to one side. By this point, the day’s travel was catching up to Esme, and she sleepily bade Hark a good night. As she crawled up into a spacious nook between two exposed tree roots, her last thoughts were of how much she had changed since leaving Caladaria; she would have never thought to sleep in a place like this before. As the sounds of the fire gently crackling away mingled with the sound of the wind among the high branches of the tree filled her head, she quickly slipped into a deep sleep.

  ***

  Esme woke the next morning surprised. She had expected to be woken for her turn on watch, and so was somewhat startled to find that Hark had spent the whole night on watch, or at least she thought he had done so. Returning to the campfire, she knelt down by the now dead campfire and poked at it with a half-burnt stick, while Hark sat against a nearby cluster of tree roots. As she stirred the ashes, he moved in the corner of her vision, and she looked up to see him blinking, almost as if he had just woken. Smiling, she asked, “Sleep well?”

  Trying to mask his embarrassment, and doing a poor job of it, he replied, “No. I mean, I didn’t. Sleep, that is.”

  “So you were just…resting your eyes?”

  “Exactly,” he said, then hoping to distract her, added, “Eat this.”

  He handed her some strips of dried meat and Esme, satisfied with the results of her toying, took the strips of dried meat he offered her. Chewing on the tacky meat, she asked, “So what’s the plan?”

  Sitting opposite her, legs stretched out and leaning against the tree, he replied, “Well, we need to get more supplies if we want to have any hope of reaching Caladaria without starving. Once we leave here, there is no way of knowing how long it will take to reach the city or if we can even get more supplies on the way. And one of us should try and climb up one of these trees, try and find out where we are and if we can see any landmarks.”

  She nodded at this in silent agreement, then surprised him by saying, “When we hunt, do you mind if I kill whatever it is we find?”

  Hark’s expression sharpened at this admittedly unexpected request. “Why?”

  Sighing, she said, “Because I hope that if I see enough of it, then blood and death won’t affect me the way it did back on the road.”

  “That,” Hark said, offering her a reassuring smile, “was nothing to be ashamed of. What happened there, no amount of hunting could prepare you for, and besides, seeing blood and death the first time is always a shock. You reacted in the same way everyone does.”

  “Then why didn’t you react the way I did?”

  “Because I am me.” When she threw the stick at him, he held up his hands in a placating gesture and said, “Okay, okay. Well, I have been hunting for a while. I am used to seeing living things die in horrible ways, and usually as the result of bad luck.”

  “I don’t want to freeze that way ever again,” she said, her voice determined and face set. “We don’t know what will happen between now and when we get back to Caladaria. If we run into another of those things, I want to be able to do something, not just stand there and be useless.”

  “That’s fair enough. You can come with me while I hunt. Then when I find something, I will wound it, make it so it can’t run, and then you can come and kill it. How does that sound?”

  She nodded, and they both rose. Collecting his bow and quiver, he turned to her and grinned.

  “Alright, then, let’s get started.”

  ***

  They spent the next few days preparing for their journey while also taking the time to relax and gather themselves after the roadside attack. As they’d agreed, Hark took Esme hunting with him and immobilised the animal he hunted, then stood back while she took his hunting knife and slit its throat. When he came up beside Esme, he noticed her pale yet determined expression and was impressed. He had expected that his friend would react poorly to the sight of blood and death as she had the first time, yet here she was actively seeking out death to try and steel herself against it. After the first day’s hunt, they went to the stream where they both bathed thoroughly—Esme making sure she bathed out of Hark’s sight yet within hearing. For his part, Hark found her prudishness amusing. He had never understood the odd attitude that Humans displayed towards nudity; it was a view that the Elreni as a people did not recognize. She was a little disappointed to find that she hadn’t lost much weight, and her body still bore the results of a more than a decade of good eating, but when she mentioned this to Hark, he merely laughed saying that if she thought that would all just melt away after several days of travel, then she was truly mad.

  The next day, the pair walked the entire edge of the woods trying to see any sort of landmark that could indicate where they were. In the end, Hark had to scale a tree to get a better look. Esme watched as he climbed with ease. Like all Elreni, the skin on his palms, feet, and inner thighs had a strange texture that allowed for better grip on the rough surface of tree bark. Once he disappeared into the canopy, she sat against a nearby tree and stared out past the treeline at the plains beyond as she let her mind wander. It wasn’t long before she began to think of her home and her parents; the leader of the patrol that had con
fronted them had claimed Hark had kidnapped her, which was no doubt the work of her mother, who had always assumed the worst about him, and that angered her. He had never done anything to her mother, yet she had always despised him. Pushing away the anger, she wondered what had motivated the guards to go after her and Hark. After all, it was doubtful they would have gone after them if her parents had asked them to, as the gate guards were entrusted with one job: guarding Caladaria’s gates. As she reflected, Hark landed on his feet a few steps in front of her, his usual grin already in place. Recovering after almost jumping out of her skin, she asked, “Well, see anything?”

  “Nothing, although I think I can see some distant mountain ranges directly ahead. If we assume that’s west, then we should be able to find our way back.”

  “What if you are wrong? And how does knowing which direction west is help us? We could walk right to those mountains and pass by Caladaria because it was further north or south.”

  “Don’t worry, if we walk that way and Caladaria is further south from us, then we will come across the north road, and if it’s further north, then we will come across the south road. See, I have everything planned out.”

  Not entirely convinced by his plan, she followed him as they set out back towards their camp.

  ***

  In addition to trying to steel herself against death and blood, Esme also resumed practicing magic. She found a small grove not far from their camp and began the routine she had learned back in Caladaria: Draw, Shape, Cast. Not long after she started her practice, she heard someone clearing their throat behind her and she turned to see Hark leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest, giving her a puzzled look.