First Quest: The Mentalists series Book One

by E. Molloy

  "Because that was the deal."

  "Deal?"

  "When we first came to this forest, long before you or I were born, the witch spoke with the people. She said, 'This is my land. What business do you have here?' And the people told her that we had been chased from our homes by soldiers, and came to the dark woods to hide. She said, 'This is my home, and you're welcome to travel in it.' The people begged her to let them stay, and she shook her head, responding, 'So long as you travel within my land, no harm shall become you. No humans can live here, for I have blessed the land. If you try to take up residence, then you will become creatures of the forest, abandoning your humanity and becoming a part of my wood.'"

  The little girl stayed silent when he stopped talking, waiting patiently for him to continue even after he'd finished. He chuckled a little, then kept going, surprised she had listened this long. "So, the people agreed to never stay in one place, but they knew they had nowhere else to go. They kept travelling, and she has kept her promise: no harm has come to us."

  She finally spoke up. "I want to meet her."

  He laughed. "If you do, make sure to let her know that I said nothing but good things about her."

  She giggled excitedly, head now filled with dreams of magic and a witch who watched over them dutifully like a mother. From elsewhere in the camp, someone called the girl's name. She grabbed his hand and lifted it with both of hers, shaking it up and down a few times like that was supposed to mean anything to him, before hopping off of his lap and hurrying toward the voice. The woman who had been humming had stopped, and the camp was nearly all packed up, fit to the top of a small wagon filled with supplies. All that remained were the embers of the fire, which he would have to deal with.

  From behind him, an older man's voice sounded. "Fill the child's head with tales of the beyond, did you?" he said, taking a seat on the rock next to the boy and groaning a little with the effort. His hair was long and white, with a knotted beard that went down to the middle of his chest. He was dressed a bit strangely from the others, with a necklace of sharpened teeth draped about his neck. The boy replied, "It kept her busy while the camp went up," he said, as if making an excuse for himself.

  The man smiled at him, and looked over to the girl. "One day, she'll sit her own child down and tell them that exact story. Of the witch who watches us, who gave us these lands to borrow but never keep." His eyes went back to the boy. "Tell me, Ragen, do you believe the story you told?"

  He shrugged, looking off into the darkness of the woods again. "I believe there's a good reason it was told that way, but I don't believe that there's some kind of good witch watching over the trees and us as if we were something special. Seems like it's got a good point, though. It can be dangerous to always camp the same spot, so it makes sense to tell the story that way. I guess it just doesn't make sense to me that she would let us stay here like this, but not in one place. What does she have to lose by letting us settle somewhere?"

  The man put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "For what we were given, I think it's a fair exchange."

  The boy scoffed. "What we were given was hardly a blessing."

  The man nodded. "Perhaps true, but it is a gift nonetheless." With that, he stood, patting his shoulder and adding, "We don't need to understand why something is or isn't, only -that- it is or isn't, and accept it. Questioning and doubting will lead to the end of it."

  "That's not always a bad thing, Elder," he retorted as respectfully as one can when arguing with an old man.

  The man smiled back knowingly. "It's not always a good thing, either." Ragen had no reply, and the Elder was finished talking. He took his leave, walking alongside the moving cart with the rest of the people. The boy remained seated for a time, resuming the sharpening of his knife. He could catch up after, and it wouldn't be hard to track them if they got too far ahead.

  Chapter 18

  Twenty more years, the people travelled her lands. They had held up their end, and the witch's promise had held true. To Ragen, though, it seemed but a minor convenience that they were safe, compared to the major inconvenience of having to pick up and move every day. The Elder from his youth had passed away, replaced by the next oldest of the family. Macey, the little girl, had grown into a lovely woman. She always had a flower in her hair, and had managed to work leaves and plants into her garments so that she was fully decorated. Most of her time had been spent in the forest alone, foraging fruits and fantasizing about a world that she would likely never see. One look into her glowing blue eyes, and you could still see the wondrous expression from her childhood that had bred the beautiful creature of curiosity and passion that she was now.

  Ragen had become a hunter, despite the warnings that it might anger the witch. If she existed, she didn't seem to mind. Most of his waking hours were not spent travelling with the others. While the group moved slowly all day long to reach a destination they hadn't been to yet, Ragen stalked the woods in search of food, furs, and purpose. The lifestyle that the group had wasn't active enough for how much energy he had, and he found himself straying farther and farther from camp each day. At night, he would track them to where they had landed, rest, and then be gone before the sun was up again.

  He had learned the woods better than anyone else, knew every tree and nest and body of water as if it were made with his own hands. In his travels, he had never come across a witch or any other person at all. Nobody came to the dark woods, an ominous name in itself made only more of a threat by the actual darkness and dangers that filled it.

  Despite the age gap when they were children, Ragen had grown infatuated with Macey as an adult. Her grace and beauty were on his mind constantly, and perhaps that was the only reason he kept on believing in anything. When he listened to her talk, he actually believed the stories that he'd told her as a child, if only for those moments. She was just as prone to wandering as he was, but never strayed quite as far.

  Macey had often expressed her want to live amongst people, to see what princesses looked like and watch a dragon fly overhead and just to feel the rush of seeing a stranger for the first time. Ragen partly blamed himself for this, having told her so many stories when she was young, tales and legends passed down from his parents and their parents and so on.

  The two walked one day together, farther than Macey would have ever gone alone. She knew she would be safe in the woods, though, especially with Ragen there. He listened as she concocted stories and theories, dreaming out loud about the life she could live if they left the woods.

  "If I was a bird, I would just fly away from here and go wherever I want. Do you think she'd be mad?" she asked him suddenly, in the midst of her speculating.

  "Who, the Elder? Yeah, I think it's safe to assume she'd be pretty upset if any of us left."

  "No, I mean the witch. Do you think she'd miss me, if I left?"

  He didn't really know how to respond. After a long pause, he replied, "I think maybe she'd be glad to have us off of her land."

  A playful slap gently tapped his shoulder. "You don't know that."

  He couldn't help but smile. "The tales are great, and all, but honestly, I don't think she's still alive. Maybe she did make a promise with our ancestors, and maybe there is some sort of blessing on the forest that makes it safe for us, but I think the legend and the magic have outlasted a person. Nobody can live for this long." When she didn't respond, he continued, "I mean, think about it. I have seen every inch of this forest, and I've never seen her. If she's here, I would have found her by now. Nobody can live hundreds and hundreds of years, not even a witch."

  She seemed really disappointed by this, and he immediately regretted saying anything. "I guess you're right," was all she said, her voice becoming small and thoughtful.

  He tried to figure out how to recover from it, but found himself at a loss. Instead, he just said, "But, I mean, does it matter? You believe what you believe, and if it makes you happy, who am I to tell you you're wrong?"

  She smiled a l
ittle, but behind it was a sort of hopeless sadness. He wondered if she always had a sliver of doubt, and just wanted to ignore it and he was the one who was crushing her belief. After a few more moments of silence, she spoke again. She was gentle, but that sadness in her voice crushed him more than anything. "Remember when I was little and you would tell me stories about her, like you really believed them?"

  "Yeah," he said, hesitantly.

  "Did you ever, really? Believe the stories, I mean."

  "Not really."

  She sighed a little. "There's this place I found, a beautiful lake. There's fruit and flowers everywhere, and I thought, 'This would be the perfect place to live; I never want to leave here.' As soon as I thought it, I caught myself. I was afraid she would hear me, and that I'd somehow make her mad." She laughed a little, sadly. "It's silly, I know, but..." she trailed off.

  Ragen looked to her, "I don't understand your point."

  She turned her eyes to the ground, watching their feet trail carefully over ground they'd trodden a hundred times before. "What I mean is...what if I only believe she's here so that I can feel better about the way we live? What if she doesn't exist, what if she never did, and we're just wandering around these woods for nothing like a bunch of crazy people?" She shook her head.

  Ragen didn't think it'd be wise to point out that that's kind of what he'd been trying to say for years now. He'd already done enough damage, all the childlike humor gone from her face.

  The two walked in silence after that: Ragen trying to think of a way to fix the conversation, and Macey likely pondering the questions of the universe. Eventually, they came upon the lake. He knew which one she was talking about, and subconsciously they'd both wanted to go there. It was, in fact, the perfect place. They set down beside the water, and she trailed her hand through it absently as she looked at her reflection. "Would you stay here with me?" she asked finally, not turning her eyes from the water.

  It was so out of the blue that Ragen had to take a minute to consider it. "You're not afraid of what might happen?"

  She paused a little while, and then looked up to him with a smile. The gleam in her eyes was back. "I think you could protect me from anything that might come along."

  His heart skipped, and he pulled her close to him, both looking at the water now as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "What about the witch?" he asked, feeling foolish for even bringing it up. This was Macey, however, and he wasn't really sure how she'd feel about it.

  Without pause, she replied, "If she does exist, then we'll become creatures of the forest like you said, right?"

  He nodded.

  She laughed a little. "So how is that any different than what we are now?"

  Ragen smiled, and it was decided. They didn't return to camp that night, or the next. Nobody came looking for them, or perhaps they did but couldn't find them. The two were both well-versed in wilderness survival, having done it their whole lives, and lived in a tent that he had crafted for them.

  Months passed in perfect peace. Macey gave birth to their first son in a veritable paradise nearly a year later. The moment he was born, the witch appeared, accompanied by two fairies.

  Memories passed through Ragen's mind as he felt his life leaving him, even as he felt his body lifting from the ground. His eyes opened only a crack, but saw nothing but pitch blackness. A woman's familiar voice rang in his head, or all around him, or maybe not at all. Gentle and deep, spoken as if a whisper that filled everything from the sun to the backs of his eyelids, she said, “Hello again, Ragen."

  He tried to reply, but nothing came out. The voice continued. "You will die here, as everything eventually does, but you have this chance to redeem yourself and those you love. Your child yet lives, as promised, cursed as you have been for all of these years. Your life cannot be saved, but his yet remains. Aid the knight until his journey ends, and your son's fate will be his own to decide."

  Dying as he was, in pain from his toes to his tongue, Ragen realized that her voice was actually making it worse. The way she spoke had his hair standing up against the matted blood, and the promise she was making felt more like a threat. He didn't hear, 'help me and I'll help your son', he heard 'if you don't do this, the boy will suffer'. Still, he knew he had no choice. There was no consideration. He'd learned already that she was good for her promises and threats alike. He didn't need to know which she was offering, considering the context. If there was a chance he'd make the kid's life easier, he owed him at least that. Despite his distaste for the woman, she wasn't asking anything he hadn't already intended to do. His son had been taken the day he was born, removed from the forest while his parents were cursed to never leave. Until now, he had no indication the boy was even alive. He wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to free him of the curse he’d inherited.

  Still unable to answer, as she likely knew, Ragen could only lay in incredible pain as she paused to let the thought tumble around his mind a bit. He didn't know if she could read his mind, or if she knew that he couldn't talk, or if this was simply a one-way message, or any number of other ways this could be happening. Magic wasn't his strong suit, except in that he knew to stay the hell away from it.

  After a few moments had gone on, the voice spoke again, and he noted that it gradually began to shrink, in a way. Not that it faded out, but that it seemed to centralize. The echo in his head stopped, he could no longer feel the vibration of each word in his body and all around him.

  "You have proven your heart today, so I will interfere this once," she said slowly, the voice seeming now to come from somewhere in front of him. He tried again to open his eyes, and small streams of light inched in. In front of him, a young-looking beautiful woman with light brown skin and long black hair knelt over his body. Her hands were covered in blood and dark runic tattoos, green eyes seeming to glow in the darkness of the forest. She wore a long black dress that went all the way to the ground, with long flowing sleeves of silk with frayed edges and tears at the skirt. She didn't meet his eyes, staring intensely at her hands which were suddenly out of his field of vision. Whatever she was doing was taking the pain away in little bursts of release. He couldn't move his head, but he could speak.

  His voice rougher than usual, he forced out, "You can admit that you want me to live because I'm charming. I won't tell anyone."

  She stopped what she was doing and looked at his face, now. Her features were mostly expressionless, but she genuinely seemed to have no idea what he had just said. "You misunderstand my intentions," she said finally.

  He grinned, the large stretch of his wolf-snout opening just a little to reveal rows of sharp white teeth. "How could you live without a face like this?"

  It seemed to hit her, finally, and she nodded. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth, but that's probably about all he was going to get insofar as a reaction went. She resumed whatever she was doing near his stomach, and the pain lifted again. She seemed to flinch.

  Her voice came back calm, as before. "I admit, you are a rare type, and a type that is much needed right now," she said.

  She just had to get things back to serious, didn't she? Resigned to actually have this conversation with someone who didn't even feel (or smell) human, he replied, "Can you at least tell me what this mission entails?"

  The woman shook her head once, slowly, and then responded, "I do not know. Too many changes have been made to The Path, without permission. So much may have changed already."

  Ragen was fairly certain that most of the stuff that came out of her mouth was nonsense, prettied up sentences with no meaning. It was either that, or she got off on being cryptic. She'd told him, the first time they met, that she 'interfered' only when it was permitted, and that every time she did it changed The Path. So while there seemed to be some method to her madness, he was still pretty sure she was just crazy.

  "Let's assume, for a minute, that I have no idea what that means, and really just wanted to know what I need to do to free my kid, okay?"

&nb
sp; Again, the smile played at the corner of her lip, this time more prominent than last. "Their paths do not end with yours. Ensure that they survive beyond you," the woman replied cryptically. She removed her hands from his side, and moved them to her own stomach. Sitting back on her heels, her eyes closed and she took a breath. Ragen could tell she was hurting, even when her features didn't reflect it. He instinctively pushed to his feet, all of his pain gone by how.

  "Are you alright?" he asked, immediately regretting asking her another question. If there's one thing he'd learned with witches, it was usually best to just stick to business if walking away wasn't an option (which it rarely was).

  She let out the breath slowly, and then opened her eyes. Not only did she not have a long-winded seemingly-coded explanation for the simple question he'd asked, she didn't have an answer at all. That was okay, since it was likely just a formality, and frankly he would rather she suffer than survive. He feared her for good reason, and it wasn't because she was a bundle of healing and help all the time. In fact, this was the first he'd seen or even heard of hear ability to heal, though it didn't exactly surprise him. However, their last encounter had pretty effectively ended his life and the lives of everyone he loved, so watching her hurt was sort of satisfying.

  "So, was the healing free, or is there some consequence to that, too?"

  "There is consequence, but not one that you will suffer."

  He shook his head, still not buying it. "I know you're good for your word, and you'll find I'm good for mine. I want to see him, before I finish this task."

  "Your son," she replied. It wasn't a question.

  "You're damn right. I need to know that what I'm doing isn't for nothing. Not that I don't trust you, since you've been so very straightforward." He chuckled, a sort of throaty growl escaping when he did.