Bound to the Abyss

by James R. Vernon

  He gave a short laugh and sat down on the floor in front of her. Maybe telling her MOST of what he had been up to wouldn’t be so bad. He would just leave out the little things that involved her.

  EAN WOKE THE NEXT day to find the room empty. Both of the other beds were already made, and a quick glance around the room confirmed that Zin wasn’t present either. The imp hadn’t come back before Ean and Jaslen had gone to their separate beds the night before. He had probably stayed out all night, hunting for food and trying to make Ean feel guilty about doubting him. Well, the imp certainly wasn’t telling him everything he knew, so let him sulk.

  Climbing out of bed, Ean moved to the window first. Judging by the small amount of light filtering in through the glass, it was still early morning. Down on the streets below, a few people moved about, but for the most part, the village looked empty and peaceful. Turning his attention back to the room, he noticed a piece of paper resting on one of the clothes drawers. The handwriting was clearly Jaslen’s, the lettering flowing on the page. Sitting on his bed, Ean began to read,

  Ean,

  We thought it was best to let you rest. We’ve gone out to see the village and try to find passage to Lurthalan. Bran was talking to a few workers last night that work for a caravan that might be heading north. We’re going to try approaching whoever is in charge to see if they are heading to the city and if we can arrange passage. It would make the trip that much easier since we’ve never traveled the path through the woods before. Plus, after our experiences already with that troll, it would be nice to travel with a bit more protection. We’ll meet back in the common room around lunch and let you know what happens. Have fun looking around!

  —Jaslen

  Tossing the note to the side, Ean got dressed and moved out of his room. Having been unconscious when they arrived, Ean had no idea how the inn was arranged. The floor he was on consisted of one long hall with wooden doors to either side. It ended with steps going down, which Ean followed down two flights that ended in a hallway that ran left and right. Towards the right, a sign marked the door at the end as the living quarters of the owners, so Ean went left and through a door that led out into the common room of the inn.

  The common room was what you would expect from any inn, except that it was completely windowless. Long tables surrounded by wooden stools or benches took up most of the floor, very similar to the setup of the Golden Coin back in Rottwealth. A few of those stools still held people, some enjoying a morning meal while others were slumped over a table or against a wall. A single serving girl moved about the room, delivering food and drink to those awake, occasionally poking those passed out to make sure they were still breathing. Not wanting to have anything to do with that kind of crowd, Ean moved through the room as fast as he could and passed through the double doors that led out of the inn and into the street.

  Stepping outside, he stopped dead, amazed at what he saw. In front of him, across the street and on the other side of a huge grassy clearing was the largest building he had ever seen. Constructed only of large logs placed on top of each other in a staggered pattern, the building towered over the rest of the village. A pair of square doors twice his height sat smack in the middle of the side facing the inn while the rest of the wall was windowless. Ean couldn’t even imagine how something that huge could have even been constructed.

  Shaking his head, he tore his gaze away from the building and looked around the rest of Rensen. Just like the inn, he had no idea what the layout of the town was like. Down the street to his left, he found what looked to be the residential area that he had seen from his window the night before. Sure enough, a few streets back he could make out the top of that large building that had been full of activity the night before towering over the other houses. Behind the building was a thick forest of evergreens. A road cut a path through it, spiraling towards the mountains looming in the distance. That must have been the road they had come in on.

  To his right, he found a building with a sign hanging above the door that designated it as the town store. It sat on the corner of the street, while across from it further down the road was a large two-story house. Past that house was a field populated with different sized and colored wagons. That must be where the traders were, which meant it was also where Bran and Jaslen had gone. Not wanting to interrupt whatever the two were up to, Ean decided to head in the opposite direction. He was curious about the large building that sat in the residential area and even more curious about the monster of a building to the north. Why would anyone even need a building that big?

  As Ean moved away from the inn, the streets were more or less empty. Being a logging village, he assumed the majority of workers must already be out in the forest chopping down trees or hunting game. He only saw two people as he moved towards what looked to be the residential area. Both carried large bows in their hands with full quivers strapped to their waists. Hunters, setting out for the day. They didn’t give him a second glance.

  He continued on, passing a side street on his left that was filled with similar sized homes, and then another block of houses after that, before reaching the street where the larger building he had seen last night sat. He walked up to the building, his curiosity growing the closer he got to it. Not a single mark or sign indicated the building’s purpose. Every window that had been lit and filled with movement the night before was now dark and devoid of life. Dim morning light filtered through the windows, allowing Ean to make out the vague outlines of chairs turned upside down on tables.

  With a grunt of disappointment, Ean headed back towards what he figured was the center of the village. Maybe the even larger building would produce something more interesting. Retracing his steps he walked down the street, glancing in the occasional window out of sheer boredom.

  Ean had expected life outside of the village he had grown up in to be different, but he was surprised by this logging town’s quiet streets. At this hour, the village back home would already be bustling with activity. Maybe the loggers were already awake and were deep in the forest. Then again, maybe everyone was asleep. What were the hours that loggers kept anyway?

  He brushed the thoughts out of his mind as he reached the end of the street. Straight ahead of him, across the large open field sat the massive wooden building. The side facing him and the rest of the town gave absolutely no hints at what the building could possible contain.

  The road slowly curved left around the clearing and then back to the large building. Instead of cutting across the clearing, he decided to follow the road around to the building’s side. He hoped that searching the entire perimeter would yield a clue as to its purpose. Was it a saw house or storage facility?

  Sitting slightly back and off to the side of the building was a large stack of tree trunks. Each one was two or three stories tall with wide trunks. The logs were stacked on top of each other, about six logs high.

  “How is that possible?” Ean mumbled to himself. One log that size probably took a dozen men or horses to drag out of the forest alone. What could they possibly be using to lift the logs and stack them like that? Magic? The more he explored the village, the more interesting it became.

  As he continued to move around the building, he saw a smaller set of double doors, just tall enough for him to walk under without having to duck. On the next story up, there was a giant rectangular opening in the wall that went almost all the way from one side of the wall to the other.

  With the sun still creeping up in the east, Ean squinted into the dark opening but couldn’t make out anything more than a few vague shapes. As his curiosity swelled, a movement in the building’s backyard—the pine forest to the north—caught his eye.

  Four people emerged from the trees carrying a huge tree trunk. A team of eight horses couldn’t drag a log that big, yet these men were carrying it on their shoulders as if it were no trouble at all. The trunk had been stripped of all of its branches and most of its bark, with both ends cleanly cut. The four were positioned two at the fro
nt and two at the back, with the trunk itself sitting on their shoulders. They carried the trunk to the stack of other logs and maneuvered it up on top of the pile. It was only after they had placed the log and stepped away from the pile that Ean was able to see that they were not really human at all.

  Ean had never seen a Taruun before, but he had heard about them from Cleff and read about them in many of the books he had studied on the healing arts. The four he saw stood easily twice the height of Bran, their long arms and legs almost twice the size of Ean's own limbs. While most of their bodies were long and gangly, their facial features were hard and precise, more harsh angles than curves. Each Taruun's head looked as if it had been stretched out slightly and then had all of the curves filed down to sharp edges, from their small eyes and noses to their pointy cheeks and chins. Their skin, which was an ivory white, looked as if it had been stretched tightly over every bone and muscle of their bodies. Each one had long, gray hair that hung just above their shoulders.

  Their bodies looked thin and frail, at least the pieces Ean saw that were not covered by their loose fitting shirts and baggy trousers. Their appearance was deceiving, however. Ean had been taught that they were the strongest race in the land, and seeing four of them carry a log that even a dozen men would have struggled to lift confirmed it.

  When teaching Ean about the Taruun, Cleff had even shown him where their amazing strength came from. The old man had shown Ean a jar containing the preserved remains of a Taruun arm muscle. The mass of it had three times as many strands as the average human muscle, densely woven together so that it was impossible to follow a single strand for very long. The muscles were also incredibly hard to cut. Cleff had taken a cleaver to the muscle, chopping at it with all of his strength and failed to put even a nick in the old muscle.

  His curiosity getting the better of him, Ean started making his way over to the four looming figures. They were huddled close together now, talking to each other softly. Ean got within twenty paces of the group before they noticed. They stopped talking, and the one in the group that had noticed him first stepped forward, raising a large hand, palm out towards him.

  "Only workers are allowed near the factory," the Taruun said. The way he spoke was strange, the pitch of his voice changing with each word. "It is dangerous for any to be too close, but especially dangerous for young ones."

  With the funny way he spoke, it took Ean a few moments to comprehend what was said. A grimace crossed his face as the words sunk in. Young one? He wasn't some foolish child that would run around their legs while they carried the logs and get in their way, and he certainly wouldn't go near the stacks regardless of how stable they looked.

  "I will be careful," he said. "I'm a Healer, so I know better than most of the kind of damage logs of that size could do to a human body." The four simply stared at him.

  "And I'm not that young. I've handled people that have lost limbs or had bones crushed. Once I even hel—” Ean cut off with a squeak, falling backwards as a monstrous form reached out of a large opening in the side of the nearby building.

  A hand emerged, larger than any of the Taruuns' entire bodies. It seemed to be made of wood, or at least a wood-like material. Each finger was made up of different sections connected by what looked to be solid metal joints. But no metal Ean had ever seen could bend to the degree that the fingers were bending. The thing moved as freely as if it were made of flesh and bone.

  Ean sat there, too stunned to move. It lifted up the top log on the stack in its fingers as easy as he might pick up a toothpick and then retracted back into the darkness of the building. Moments later, a loud buzzing sound came from the opening, louder than anything he had ever heard before. Ean continued to gape at the opening until the buzzing stopped. It was then that he heard laughter coming from the Taruuns.

  Embarrassment quickly overrode the feeling of shock. Climbing to his feet, Ean rounded on the Taruuns. "What was that?" He had meant his words to come out as a yell but instead he squeaked the sentence.

  The Taruuns continued to laugh. They turned their backs to him and began to head into the forest. Ean wanted to yell after them, but fear of his voice cracking again kept him quiet. He resigned himself to glaring at their backs as they left.

  Once the Taruuns had disappeared back into the forest, Ean turned back towards the building. Some kind of hatch had dropped into place where the huge hand had come out, blocking any view of the inside. Maybe there was another opening he could peak through around back? He stood there for a time trying to decide what to do when a low growl escaped from his stomach. Looking to the sky, Ean figured it was still well before mid-day by the position of the sun. If he gave up for the moment on this mystery, he could head back to the inn and grab something to eat, maybe ask one of the locals about the building. Maybe the building would be open again later in the day, and he could try back before he was supposed to meet Bran and Jaslen.

  He cut across the field, his pace increased the more his stomach growled. As he moved, he noticed that the rest of the town was starting to come to life. Men and women were coming outside, going about their daily chores, errands or moving about the village. The lazier of the town's hunters were heading out as well; an irritated wife was even chasing one out with a broom. A few folks were gathered in other places while children began to play in the large field in the center of the town he was cutting across.

  Trying not to be noticed, Ean kept his head down until he reached the inn. Ducking inside, he paused to look around the common room for a place to sit. In the short time that he had been gone, the room had cleared out. The single serving girl remained, cleaning up the tables and righting overturned stools. She waved Ean over with a tired smile.

  "Have a seat over here, and I'll get you something to eat and drink,” she said, motioning him over. “Your friends already paid for your breakfast before they left this morning, but you snuck out before I could tell you." The girl patted the top of stool she had just placed next to a table.

  Ean hadn’t paid much attention to the waitress when he first walked in, but this time he noticed the cute dimples in her cheeks when she smiled in his direction. Disheveled coppery brown hair, sky blue eyes, tiny button nose — she reminded him of a porcelain doll the mayor’s wife proudly displayed on her fireplace mantel. The doll was one of the most refined things in his village; to see this lovely living embodiment in the flesh both intrigued and amused him.

  Ean hesitated for only a moment before heading over to the table next to the woman. Mumbling a thank you, he sat down.

  "Now you just wait a bit, and I'll be right back with your food." She patted his back the same way she had the stool then turned and strode away. Ean watched her go as she weaved in and out of the tables and then through a door next to the bar.

  The girl returned with two plates of food balanced on one hand and a pair of mugs gripped in the other. She still wore a smile this time, though, there was quite a bit more life behind it. Reaching his side, she sat herself down next to him and deposited a plate and mug down in front of him and herself.

  "My shift is up, so I figure I could give you some company. My name's Paige, by the way."

  "I'm Ean," he stammered, a bit taken back. "Nice to meet you.” Even with her hair disheveled and ale stains on her plain brown shirt and pants, Ean found her easy on the eyes. Which, of course, made him nervous.

  "So, um, have you worked here long?"

  She took a swig from her mug before answering. "Most of my life. My parents are best friends with the owners, and my mom works back in the kitchen, so I practically grew up here waiting tables.”

  She paused only long enough to rip off a small piece of bread and put it in her mouth. She didn't even bother chewing, simply washing it down with a drink from her mug before continuing on.

  "So where are you from? Lurthalan? Halyquain?" Ean tried to answer but never got the chance as she continued on. "You don't look like one of the usual crowd that comes with the caravans. No, not part of t
he caravans. A boy setting out to prove himself maybe? Yes, that’s got to be it! Ean the future Hero!" She clapped her hands together enthusiastically, her mouth finally closing for the first time since she sat down.

  The words had come so quickly that it took Ean a bit to finally catch up in his head. And which question should he answer? "Actually I'm from Rottwealth, but my friends and I are heading to...”

  "Rottwealth?" she cut in, a hint of skepticism touching her voice. "No one ever comes here from Rottwealth. And I rarely hear about anyone ever going there.” She leaned forward, her elbows on the table and her head resting in her hands. "Is it true that everyone in your village is related?" She looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on his gloves. "Are your hands disfigured because of the inbreeding?"

  Feeling insulted, Ean tried to keep the annoyance he felt out of his voice. "No, most of the people in the village are not related. And I wear the gloves because I burnt my hand working with dangerous plants and herbs. I’m a Healer. Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to judge a person by his appearance."

  Paige grew quiet, her blue eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Avoiding the hurt look in her eyes, Ean focused on his plate, telling himself that the girl had deserved the harsh words, whether she had meant to be insulting or not. Leaning forward, he shoveled some ham slices into his mouth and then took a long sip from his drink. He kept his eyes locked on the plate because he was hungry, he told himself, not at all because he felt bad about snapping at her.

  Well, maybe he felt a little bad.

  Back at home, few people bothered to speak to him at all, especially not someone as nice-looking as the talkative young waitress. He should be happy she seemed interested in him at all. His guilt at lashing out started to grow, giving him indigestion and making his stomach growl for a reason besides hunger. If he wanted to enjoy his meal, he might as well apologize and be done with it. Pulling his gaze away from his food, he tried to look her in the eyes.