He found the river’s edge, disrobed, and again entered into the water. I should have done this last night, he thought. Wasting time. Within seconds, he had caught a fish and without moving to shore, he began to devour it, all of it. Has no taste, this fish. Wonder why? He caught another fish and began to eat it in the same manner. The second fish held no flavor for him either. He threw it, half eaten, back into the water. Not hungry anymore.
Intuition told him that it was time to head south, and in order to do so, he would have to cross the river. So cross the river he did. First, he grabbed his clothes from the shore and tied them around his waist. Then, he reentered the water and began to swim across the surface. If someone had seen him from a distance, they might have thought he was a small rowboat. His strokes were powerful and he propelled himself forward quite quickly. When at last he had crossed the river, he knew that he had expended a lot of energy and he would need to rest. So he lay down on the southern shore of the river and went to sleep, his soaking clothes still tied around his waist.
He woke to the jostling and clinking of a caravan, passing not far from where he slept. It was kicking up dust as it moved across the flat land, the driver showing no signs of having seen him sleeping by the river. He stood up and stretched his body. He was expecting to have to work out some sore muscles after his exertions, but that would also be something he would have to get used to. He was never sore. He brushed the dirt off of his body and dressed himself in his clothes that were still slightly damp. He wondered if he might purchase food from the caravan. He decided he would pursue it.
• • •
I hate drivin’ this caravan, thought Morduk. The land stretched out before him, for what seemed like forever, in all directions. He had good horses and they pulled the wagons quickly, but not quickly enough for Morduk. Shoulda gotten bigger horses, he thought as he swigged water from his canteen. His mind began to wander as he looked into the sky. I could probably take a nap, sittin’ right here, and still be on track when I wake, he thought, staring into the sun. His leg began to itch and he slapped at it. He turned his head to see if it were a fly that had caused the itch. Suddenly, there was someone standing right in the caravan’s path. Morduk pulled back on the reins until the horses came to a stop.
“Wot d’you think you’re doing?” yelled Morduk, taking off his large brimmed hat and slamming it on the seat next to him. Morduk climbed down from his perch and began to walk out to the man. Morduk was a tiny man; only about as big as a child, but his bushy red beard and mustache left no question to the fact that he was full-grown. He yelled again as he walked out to meet the stranger that was blocking his path. “You got a death wish, do ya?”
As Morduk approached, the stranger held out his hands in a sign of peace.
“My apologies. I had hoped that I might be able to purchase some food from your caravan.”
Morduk looked up at the stranger suspiciously and then looked all around as if looking for someone else to show up.
“You all alone out here?”
“Yes, I am a traveler.”
“What happened to your face?” Morduk was so small that the white hood the stranger used to shield his identity had little to no effect. He, in fact, could see right under it.
“Childhood accident,” replied the stranger.
“I suppose I could sell you some food,” said Morduk. “Wait here.” Morduk walked off to the caravan and rummaged around inside. After a minute, he returned with a hunk of bread and two sausage links. Morduk knew that no man in his right mind would pay any more than three gold pieces for the food, but Morduk was not the type to pass up an opportunity to swindle someone. “Ten gold pieces,” he said to the stranger, expecting some sort of argument. Although he knew that he held the leverage, out here in the middle of nowhere.
“Hold out your hand,” said the stranger. Without going into a pocket, he held his closed hand over Morduk’s empty palm and dropped exactly ten gold pieces into it.
“What did you say your name was again?” asked Morduk.
“I didn’t,” answered the stranger.
Morduk eyed the man suspiciously and nodded his head. “A man after my own heart, I can respect that.” Morduk ran his stubby fingers through his beard. “You seemed to come up with those ten pieces right quick. Almost out of the air. You some sort of magician?”
“No magician, I assure you,” replied the stranger.
“Where you headed off to then?” Morduk squinted his eyes. “What’s yer business?”
A voice crept inside the head of the stranger, whispering a message of one word. Hendrick.
“My business is my own. But I travel to the village of Hendrick, if you must know.”
“Well, well,” said Morduk grinning. “That be the way I’m headed. I’ll give you transport for twenty more gold pieces.” Morduk held his palm out and again the stranger, without reaching into his pocket, dropped twenty gold coins from his hand. I’ve got a magician here, surely, thought Morduk. Can’t let him get away. Morduk pocketed the gold and extended his arm. “Right this way, my friend. You’ll find the back of the caravan most comfortable, I think.” The stranger climbed into the back of the caravan and Morduk rubbed his greedy little hands together. He walked back to the front of the caravan and climbed up to his seat. “Next stop, Hendrick,” he called out and then slapped the reins down on the horses’ backs. Morduk began to hum a tune as the horses took off, his beady eyes twinkling in the sun.
It was a rough ride in the back of the caravan. The wagon was being pulled at such a velocity that every little bump was throwing the stranger into the air. He sat; knees tucked into his chest, and began to meditate. He had been given a location and now he needed a name.
Images swam through the strangers mind as he sat, huddled, eyes closed. Not the smoke images that he saw through his milky eyes, but images like he used to see; images just like everyone else sees. He saw images of bears and of a cave. He saw images of a giant feather and of a stout man in a gray robe. He saw images of a blue crab and of a golden bladed weapon. Then he saw the images of two distinct faces, hovering in his consciousness and the voice came back into his mind. Floyd, the voice whispered, Ben Floyd. The stranger repeated the name in his head. Tomas Floyd, the voice continued. Two targets. Brothers. These two men are evil, violent and depraved. They fight to endanger the soul of every person on the earth. As we speak, they come closer and closer to returning an Ancient Evil to power. They must be stopped at all costs.
The stranger opened his eyes as the voice in his head faded away. At all costs.
• • •
Hours later, the caravan came to a stop. We must have arrived, the stranger thought to himself. He waited a few minutes to see if it was just a momentary break. Once he had decided that enough time had passed, he put his legs out the back of the wagon and lowered himself down to the ground.
“Turn around very slowly,” said a voice from behind, once the stranger had fully exited the caravan. He turned to find Morduk standing with a long knife pointed at him. “You see, I never introduced myself proper like,” said Morduk maliciously. “Morduk’s the name and your gold be my game. And I don’t lose, stranger. I saw with my own eyes as you conjured gold from the air, magician, and if you’d like to be leaving with your life today, you’ll be making it a third time. And Old Morduk thinks it better be to the tune of five hundred gold pieces.”
The stranger watched blue tendrils of smoke snake across the scarred surface of the little man’s face. “You’re a bandit,” he said.
“And a darn good one, I’d wager. Now stop stallin’, magician.” The stranger clenched his fists and they began to glow. “That’s it, magician, get my gold.”
Before Morduk knew what had happened, the stranger’s leg had darted out from under his robe and kicked the knife out of the short man’s hand. The stranger then shot his arm out and grasped Morduk by the throat, lifting the man so that their eyes were level. Morduk’s eyes bulged as he struggled for
air.
“I don’t like bandits,” said the stranger, and with that he snapped Morduk’s neck. He dropped the body and faced south. No sign of the village. No matter, he thought and began walking south.
Why did you kill that man? came the voice in his head.
“What? That man was a bandit,” he said aloud in confusion. “He was evil.”
Did I ask you to kill that man? asked the voice.
He shook his head. “No, but was that man not evil?”
Who are you to decide what is good and what is evil? Who are you to judge fate?
His mistake became clear to him. “I am sorry, my Holy. Never again will I assume to know your will. Please forgive me, my Holy.” He dropped to his knees and bowed his head.
Let this be a lesson to you. I will not be so forgiving in the future. Never forget that it is I who has shaped, and will forever shape, this world and all that walk upon it. I choose to work through you.
“Yes, my Holy.”
He stood and continued to walk south, knowing without being told that he would never be entering the village of Hendrick. He saw images in his head of the entrance to a cave and his feet knew how to take him there.
The Floyds, he thought. I must kill the Floyds.
Taken
“I didn’t think that a place like this could be real,” said Riverpaw.
He and Evercloud stood shin deep, besieged in bog water. A chill climbed Evercloud’s back. He looked off into the distance, which wasn’t far given all of the fog, and what he could see wasn’t encouraging. The fog that hung in the air all around them was an ill color of green and smelled like old vegetables. Dead trees intermittently dotted the landscape, their jet-black bark matching the muddy water that the travelers stood in. Neon green moss grew upon the trees like a disease and protruded randomly throughout the surface of the bog water. This world felt hollow.
“Should it be this cold?” asked Evercloud as he fought phantom shivers.
“This place is evil,” answered Riverpaw. “It’s sucking the warmth away from us.”
A vulture screeched high above them from its gnarly wooden perch. Evercloud looked up at the vulture, bobbing its head in the tree, thinking that it looked like it was laughing at them.
“Did you say something?” asked Riverpaw.
“No. That was the vulture.”
“Not the vulture. I heard whispers.” Riverpaw watched the fog in suspense. “Listen.”
Evercloud focused his hearing out into the surrounding bog. He couldn’t hear anything. But just as he was about to tell Riverpaw that he couldn’t hear anything, the noises began to reach his ear. Quiet at first, like the breeze moving through the leaves in the trees. But there was no breeze and the trees bore no leaves.
“What is it?” asked Evercloud.
“Shhh,” warned Riverpaw.
The sounds were growing, swelling and rolling like barely breaking waves; the beginnings of what could be voices. Small whispers, coming at them from all directions. They swore they could make out the words. Come this way, whispered the voices. Look out behind you, they teased. She’ll make soup out of your bones.
“Who’s there?” called Riverpaw.
“Shut up,” whispered Evercloud. “I don’t think we should announce our presence.”
“But the voices,” said Riverpaw.
“Probably don’t want to help us. I don’t have a reason for it, but I don’t think that we should listen to them.”
“Well, I suppose we should start moving.”
Evercloud looked around with his arms extended. “Take your pick.”
“The way we’re facing?” shrugged Riverpaw.
“Looks as good as any other direction.”
And with that they began to move through Oldham’s Bog.
Plodding on, one soggy step at a time, the travelers scanned their surroundings for some sort of clue, but the bog didn’t change. The sickly fog hung thick in the air and the dead black trees, with their skeleton branches, reached for the sky like the hands of drowning men. At one point, Evercloud slipped on a patch of moss and tumbled into the water. He came back up, soaking and gasping for air, his body revolting against the freezing liquid. Riverpaw helped him to his feet and picked some moss off of his shoulder.
“It’s freezing,” breathed Evercloud.
Riverpaw looked at him empathetically. He didn’t really know what to say. “Walking might warm you up.”
Evercloud shivered as he nodded and they continued on their search. As they walked, the whispers continued. Don’t come any closer. Please, stay away. She will set your flesh on fire. Another vulture screeched far behind them. Evercloud continued to shiver.
“How are we supposed to find anything in this place?” asked Riverpaw. “The only things out here are those creepy voices. Maybe we should try talking to them.”
“I don’t think so,” disagreed Evercloud. “There’s got to be something we’re missing. Maybe we should start inspecting the trees.”
So as they walked on, they began to inspect the trees they came across. A couple of times Evercloud stood upon Riverpaw’s back to get a closer look at the branches, and a few times, Riverpaw tore a good deal of bark off of the trunk. Still they found no clues. They had been walking for what seemed like hours, but there was no change in either the temperature of the air or of the lightness of the fog filled sky. They came close to the next tree in their path and it left their jaws hung wide. Bark had been torn from the trunk and Riverpaw recognized, very distinctly, his own claw marks.
“We’re walking in circles,” he shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re walking in circles.”
Evercloud sat down upon a mound of green moss and put his head down between his knees. “We need to sleep, Riverpaw. We need fresh minds and bodies to figure out this puzzle.”
“Where? In the cold water?”
“Well we can’t hope to continue like this,” said Evercloud, raising his voice.
Riverpaw huffed in frustration and leaned his weary body against the tree trunk. It shook from the impact of his weight and the mossy lump that Evercloud sat upon rose slightly into the air. Evercloud turned, wide-eyed, to Riverpaw whose face reflected the same sentiment.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Evercloud.
Riverpaw didn’t even answer the question. He turned his head and galloped about twenty feet away from the tree. Evercloud knew what was coming and quickly got himself out of the way. Riverpaw dug his legs down deep into the muddy water and without warning, began to charge the tree. He barreled into the tree, hitting it with as much force as he could. Bark flew from the tree trunk and dead branches fell to the ground. He continued to put pressure on the tree and Evercloud watched as it slowly came splashing to the bog below.
“There,” said Riverpaw. “It’s not much, but it’ll have to do.”
“It’s more than I could hope for.” Evercloud smiled for the first time since they had entered Oldham’s Bog. The two weary travelers sprawled out on the tree, more than ready to hide inside the refuge of slumber. She’ll kill you in your sleep, said the whispers in the fog.
“Let her try,” muttered Riverpaw.
Evercloud yawned. “Yeah, let her try.” And with that shared fortitude, they fell into a deep sleep.
• • •
Riverpaw and Evercloud woke after a lengthy rest to find everything exactly as they had left it. Evercloud stretched and looked around, shaking his head.
“Well?” asked Riverpaw.
“Well, I don’t think that we should just continue walking around randomly. That got us, literally, nowhere. We need a plan.”
They sat down on the dead tree and tried to think of a plan of action.
“You know,” said Riverpaw. “I was having a pretty good dream. It was a shame to have to wake up to all of this.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I was dreaming that we were back in the Kingdom. We were heroes. We had returned after finding
the Ancients and defeating the Great Tyrant. We were in the arena being presented with a feast. You should have seen it.” Riverpaw licked his lips. “Fresh breads and puddings, cakes and plates of fruit. Watermelon, Evercloud. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten watermelon?”
“You do like your watermelon.”
“Aww. I must have had three big ones to myself. And the fish.” Riverpaw shook his head. “I can’t even begin to describe it.”
“Yeah,” agreed Evercloud. “This is a pretty sore sight to wake up to, after a good dream.”
“How about you?” asked Riverpaw. “Good dreams?”
“Yeah,” nodded Evercloud.
“Well, out with it.”
“I’d rather not.”
Riverpaw furrowed his brow. “Here we are, out in…well we don’t even know where we are, risking our lives together and you’re gonna bottle up. Are you joking?”
“Fine, fine. But I don’t want to hear any goofy remarks out of you. Got it?” Riverpaw shrugged in agreement. “I was dreaming about…Iolana.”
“Ahhh,” said Riverpaw. “That’s why you didn’t want to tell me.”
“I can’t seem to get her out of my mind.”
“Now, don’t jump down my throat,” warned Riverpaw, “but I think maybe you were going to feel this way about the first woman you saw, no matter what.”
“She’s not the first woman I saw.”
“First one you talked to?” asked Riverpaw.
“Maybe,” said Evercloud, lowering his gaze to his feet. “But it’s more than that. There’s something there. I feel some sort of deep connection with her. I can’t explain it.”
“Am I the only one you’ve told this to?”
“Yes, but I think that Ben knows. He made some comment about there being plenty of other women.”
“Well, you can only expect as much. She is his sister. Do you remember when I told Shiningsun that I found his sister attractive? He hasn’t talked to me since.”
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