The Wanderer's Tale: Esmor

by Rex Foote

  “I thought you hated doing all that,” he said.

  “I did when I couldn’t see a use for it,” she replied.

  “And you can now?”

  “Yes, that night on the roadside. If I had been a better mage and had been able to control my reaction to that thing better, then maybe I could have slowed it down or hurt it.”

  Hark’s eyes took on a faraway look as he said, “That thing was pretty tough; you saw how it reacted when that first crossbow bolt struck it.”

  “It didn’t react at all.”

  “Exactly, it didn’t even notice it.”

  Preparing to cast another practice spell, she replied, “Maybe it will notice magic.”

  Though her eyes were now closed, she could still sense him watching as she practiced. He stood there for a few minutes longer before turning around and heading back to camp.

  The following morning, after the sun had just risen and was sending its golden rays through the branches and trunks of the trees, Esme awoke to something soft and light landing on her. Startled, she sat up to see Hark standing at the entrance to the nook, grinning at her. Looking down, she saw that what had landed on her was a set of animal hide clothes. Realizing what they were, she asked, “Clothes?” She held up a pair of trousers and a shirt that lacked sleeves.

  Hark nodded. “After the shoulder bags, that was all I could manage with what I had left. Besides,” he said, his grin widening, “you aren’t the smallest person to make clothes for.”

  Snatching them up, she stood glaring at him. “I am better than I was before.” As she went to change, she paused, turned, and eyed him suspiciously. “How did you know the right size to make the clothes?”

  “You were asleep all night, and I do have good night vision.”

  Her glare intensified as she stormed off around the tree, Hark’s laughter ringing in her ears.

  That night, the pair were sitting around camp eating the evening meal. Their camp had started to take on a more permanent tone, as they had dug a fire pit and had strung some of the animal hides over the gap in the roots where they slept, giving them some cover. The day’s foraging had been very successful, and Esme was sure that Hark would soon suggest they depart their temporary home and start on the journey back to Caladaria. She felt a stab of doubt whenever she thought about this, for while she saw the wisdom in returning, she also wished that they could carry on to Mymt. Her thoughts were interrupted by a low rumble that sent faint tremors through the ground and passed as soon as it came. Both she and Hark looked at each other, expressions of confusion and faint worry on their faces. Hark stood and looked around, his sharp Elreni eyes piercing the darkness for any signs of danger. As his gaze swept past the treeline that marked the edge of the woods, he paused.

  “There is a storm wall out in the plains coming towards us,” he said. “Thunder, that’s what that was.”

  “Are we safe?” Esme asked.

  “We should be fine.” Then he turned to look at her his familiar grin on his face. “Come with me.” He came over to her, pulled her up, and together they made their way towards the edge of the woods. When they were a few yards from the treeline, he stopped. “Watch,” he said, and she decided it was best to just go along with him.

  She didn’t have to wait long, as soon afterwards the entire horizon was briefly illuminated in a flash that cast the face of the oncoming storm wall in white light, while the cracks and crevasses of the clouds were left in darkness. The sight took her breath away, and she was about to say something when the thunder sounded again, this time strong enough to cause the branches above her head to rustle and sway. She turned to Hark, who upon seeing her face grinned.

  “You have that look in your eyes,” he said.

  “Which one?” she asked, her tone low in awe of what she had just witnessed.

  “The one you used to get when people told you about far-off places; that look of wonder and amazement. Just this time it’s not some secondhand account that caused it; this time you are seeing it first-hand.”

  She was about to say more when there was another flash in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see a bolt of jagged lightning plummeting from the dark underbelly of the clouds as it struck a spot on a hill not too far from where they stood.

  “It’s…” she stammered, trying to find the right words for what she was witnessing. “It is at the same time the most beautiful and terrifying thing I have ever seen. Back in Caladaria, I never got to see any of this; the crater wall and buildings blocked it from sight. “

  “Such is nature,” was Hark’s murmured reply.

  Suddenly, she took Hark’s hand in her own. Surprised by this, Hark glanced at her as she began to speak.

  “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t get lost,” he replied, his grinning features cast into sharp focus by a flash of lightning. She laughed at his reply, and this transformed his grin into a warm smile. She carried on.

  “I mean it, though. You are the only person I would have with me on this journey. As badly as it has gone and as much danger as we are still in, I don’t regret leaving. Thank you.”

  Hark was temporary left floundering by the sincerity and honesty of her admission, and so was further unprepared when she reached up and kissed him gently on his cheek. He was saved further surprise when the rain started to fall in big, heavy drops that soaked them in seconds even under the cover of the trees. They quickly returned back to their camp and huddled under their makeshift shelter, the fire doused from when the first rain had started. They settled in close to one other, sharing warmth and companionship as outside the storm raged on.

  Chapter Eight

  7th Day of Daaris. The Season of Light. Year 250

  The peaceful nothingness of sleep was shattered the following morning by a torrent of water. Esme had been dreaming of Caladaria and home, but was rudely awoken by a brief deluge. Sitting up gasping from the sudden drenching, she looked up to see the animal hide that had been their shelter was now dangling down into their nook. As Hark woke, slowly wiping water from his eyes, Esme came to the conclusion that the animal skin had collected a considerable amount of water overnight and had finally ripped through some of its fastenings, spilling its contents over them.

  She started to laugh at the idea, to which Hark turned a groggy gaze her way and demanded, “What?”

  Shaking her head in mirth, she told him what had happened, and soon he too was laughing. Taking this as a sign to get up and moving, the pair rose and started to prepare to leave. Today was the day they would start upon the journey back to Caladaria. As Hark was rolling up the animal hide and Esme was trying to get some of the water out from her clothes, a low, eerie moan drifted through the trees and early morning gloom. Both froze and looked at one another, each knowing the likely source of that sound but neither wishing to voice their fears lest it make them reality. Then Hark was down by his gear, taking out his bow, quickly stringing it and drawing an arrow from his quiver. Esme tried to calm herself and scanned the misty woods that had up until this point been a peaceful, relaxing place, but now the gloomy shapes of trees rearing out of the mist took on a more sinister tone, and what once was a peaceful wood had become something far darker.

  Just then, the moan sounded again, and to Esme it sounded like it came from all directions, but once again Hark’s keen Elreni senses showed the truth of the matter, and he silently motioned to Esme’s gaze towards a spot deeper into the woods where the mist seemed darker and thicker. With her back to the treeline, Esme knew that the mist had started to burn away under the morning sun when she felt its warmth on her back, which helped to steady her nerves; now with the mist quickly fading, they could leave these woods without ever having to face whatever was making those sounds. That hope died quickly as the sun’s bright rays penetrated further into the woods and the mist began to fade far faster than she would have thought. In a matter of moments, it had completely burned away, and they were
both shocked to see no further than twenty yards ahead the familiar four-armed, tall shape of the monster that had attacked them at the roadside camp. Esme’s heart sank further when she saw that there was a crossbow bolt protruding from its right shoulder; the same bolt that had signaled the start of the guards’ fight with the monster. She froze then, in an instant realizing that all the blood and death she had exposed herself to over the past few days could not prepare her for this. And how could it? After all, the animals they had hunted had posed no threat to her, but this thing most certainly did.

  From the corner of his eye, Hark saw Esme go rigid at the sight of the beast and he knew that, for now at least, it fell on him to fight it, which did nothing to ease his growing sense of fear. This brought on the thought that if he let that fear take him, then he would essentially sentence Esme to her death, and so he used the fear of her death to push away the fear of the beast. With his emotions under control for the time being, he acted. In one fluid motion, he raised, drew, and fired his bow at the thing and had another shaft in the air before the first had hit. The first struck the monster in the meat of its left thigh, while the second impacted alongside the crossbow bolt, and one of these two must have hurt the thing, as it let out a shrill cry of pain and charged him, with one set of arms reaching for him and the other set knuckling the ground to increase its speed. Instinct took hold, and he dived to one side, dropping his bow as he did so and feeling the air whistle over his back as the thing swiped at him. He came out of his roll and jumped to his feet, and the first thing he saw was the tree where they had slept and a long branch with a fire-hardened point that he had been making into a spear. Knowing that the makeshift weapon’s reach would give him a much-needed advantage, he used the remaining momentum of his roll to give him a boost as he ran towards the tree. He heard the sounds of the creature redirecting towards him. Though he had a head start, it quickly drew near, and as he reached the tree, he felt something heavy slam into his back and he fell forwards into darkness.

  Seeing the thing get within reach of Hark snapped Esme out of her daze. She had watched in a stupor as he first shot the creature, then dodged its first wild wipe, then started to run towards the tree. That stupor ended with the simple and horrifying thought that Hark wasn’t going to make it. With this thought echoing in her mind, she acted almost without thinking, only wanting to stop the creature and give Hark the time he needed to do what he planned to. He was just reaching out towards the tree, the monster extending an arm for him, when her spell hit, and suddenly the earth around the creature’s feet exploded outward as roots snapped around its ankles. Then there was a sound of splintering wood and the creature fell forwards, colliding with Hark.

  “HARK!” she screamed, ignoring the absence of energy that caused her limbs to feel like wood. She started towards the creature that was now writhing, trying to right itself. But no, that wasn’t right, her inner voice told her, cutting through the panic that filled her head. It looked like the creature was trying to get at something in the tree. With a start, she realized that the creature had fallen on top of the roots that had formed their sleeping nook and that Hark was probably lying in that same gap. Despair was replaced by a burning desire to protect her friend at any cost, and she drew on her energy once more, envisaging a lance of radiant fire striking the thing on the side of its head. The mental click and sensation of the spell being cast were accompanied by a crushing weariness, and she fell face first onto the muddy earth, taken utterly by surprise at how much energy that spell had cost her. As she struggled to her feet, she could hear the sound of Hark ‘s desperate shouts of rage and fear mingled with the high-pitched cries of pain from the creature. Regaining her feet, she saw the creature, the side of its head facing her a ruin of charred and burnt skin coupled with raw, weeping meat. As she watched, it arched its back in pain as it spurted out arterial blood from a long cut across its neck, and with a final gurgled moan, the creature fell forward onto the roots, its lifeblood draining out from the slit in its neck. Esme staggered over as Hark, his head and chest covered in the thing’s blood, crawled out alongside the corpse to slump against the side of the tree, utterly spent both psychically and mentality. Esme came to sit beside him, neither wanting to talk and both exhausted from the fight, hearts pounding. They sat there for a long while, resting against one another, saying nothing. Eventually, they stood, gathered their things, and left the woods.

  Though scared and tired, they didn’t waste the day. Wanting to be as far away from that place as they could, they started to walk directly away from the wood, not even bothering to try and find out where they were, but just wanting to leave it all behind. For once, Esme took the lead, though her thoughts had little to do with pathfinding; she dwelled on the fight, going over and over in her mind her actions and what she could have done to prevent it from happening. Perhaps if they had kept watch, maybe if they had moved camp, maybe they should have tried to mask their presence better. These and other thoughts about what ifs and maybes swirled around in her head, but they all came back to one main point. Up until that point, the woods had seemed like a peaceful place full of beauty and potential, so much so that she had considered staying there and living out the rest of her days in that warm, happy place of tall trees edged by green plains. Now there was nothing in the world that would get her to return there; it had been violated by that thing with its eerie moaning cries and its savage, evil desecration of that peaceful place. Because of the events of this morning, a place of happiness and peace had been transformed into a place of fear and blood. She stopped suddenly, so suddenly that Hark walked straight into her back. That wood, that camp and the morning events, were a metaphor for this whole trip. Yes, there was beauty and wonder out here, but it masked a darker, more savage side, one that demanded respect—and expected failure to show respect to be paid for in blood. She shuddered as she started to walk again, not sure of how this made her feel. Did this change how she viewed the wilderness? Hadn’t she known this all along? These thoughts started to chase one another around her head as the day dragged on and the pair’s aimless wanderings continued.

  They only stopped once the horizon ahead began to darken. They were able to find shelter in the hollow of a rock face in a small, hilly valley. Neither spoke as they mechanically went about the job of preparing an evening meal, something that they could now both do without thinking. They had taken some firewood with them, and Esme was able to get a fire going, once more using magic, though the effort left her feeling far more drained than normal after the morning’s fight and subsequent day’s worth of walking. Dinner came and went in the same sullen silence that had marked the day’s travel, and Esme had just gone to get some more firewood when a sound from the other side of the fire made her pause. She turned to see Hark, his face and chest still covered in the dried blood of the monster, weeping softly, one hand supporting his head as his tears made tracks down the blood on his face. She started towards him when he spoke.

  “I am sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I am so sorry.”

  “For what?” she asked, coming over to sit beside him.

  “On the first day we were camped in those woods, when I hunted that deer, I found the remains of a body. I didn’t think anything of it, though it unnerved me. I put it out of my mind, but I should have told you. Maybe if I had, we would have left sooner, and that thing wouldn’t have found us.”

  Putting an arm around his shoulder, she fought against her own emotions, now rising perhaps in sympathy with Hark’s own. In a calm tone, she said, “You did the right thing.”

  Startled, Hark looked up at her, surprise and confusion written across his features.

  “What?”

  She laughed at his expression. “Out of the two of us, I never thought you would be the first to break. Hark, I am, or was, an apprentice mage in a well-off merchant’s house. Yes, I may have had dreams of travel and adventure, but I hadn’t even left Caladaria. I was so unprepared for this that on our firs
t full day of this journey, I collapsed at camp because I was so unfit. Compared to me, you were well prepared for this; you grew in up in a forest and had been on hunts as well as having had archery training.”

  She paused, deciding on what to say next.

  “Out of the two of us, the one more likely to be scared of a rotting body would be me, and telling me wouldn’t have done anything other than panicking me more. So yes, you did the right thing.”

  While she was speaking, Hark stopped weeping, and after she finished, he took a few moments to absorb all she had said. All the while, his gaze never left her as he wiped the tears and blood from his face. After a while, he spoke.

  “Thank you, Esme. But it’s not just about this morning.”

  When she didn’t reply, he carried on.

  “Ever since we were chased off the road by that thing, I have been terrified. My plan was to go with you to Mymt Lagoon taking the road the whole way. You’re right, I do have some skill with the bow and do know a decent amount of woodcraft. And I have been on hunts and slept outside, but it was always within the Kuddin Woods, and I was always accompanied by either a party of five or more or my father. But as we were running through the darkness, the cries of that thing and the patrol echoing in our ears, I knew that I was out of my depth. Living outdoors and off the wild in the Kuddin is one thing; doing the same out here is another matter entirely. And I am just not ready for this.”

  The last words came out in a choked voice, and he started to weep again, softly, and in the manner of one who had just uttered a painful confession. Esme responded by embracing her friend, and for a long while they sat like that. In the end, she said, “I would be dead if not for you. Whatever you think of yourself, never forget that. And no matter what you think, it is going to be you who gets us out of this.”