Wayward

by Ronald Long

  When he saw Holve, he ran towards him and picked him right off the ground and embraced him while letting loose a hearty and genuine laugh.

  "Easy Roland you'll crush me to pieces!" said Holve as Roland put him down, nursing his sides and giving him a stern look. Ealrin couldn’t help but notice that the older Holve had a small twinkle in his eye.

  Maybe he has a soft side down there somewhere, Ealrin thought.

  "We'd all be better for it Holve. That way you could be in more places than one. I've much to tell you,” replied Roland as he sat opposite Ealrin at the table the two were sharing before he made his entrance.

  Elezar came over to the table and Roland let out another shout of joy. He had begun to rise but the innkeeper and cook raised his old hands to stop him.

  "You hug me like you did Holve and you'll certainly break my bones. What are you eating, Roland?" said Elezar in good spirits.

  Elezar was indeed older than many other people Ealrin had set eyes on. His gray hair was long but tidy. Both his eyes were green, but only one was able to see. He playfully kept reminding Ealrin his left one was his good one and not to look at the right's playful jumping about. His hands were wrinkled and burned from many days and nights of keeping up the old inn and cooking for the tenants there.

  "Your biggest plate full of your best catch. Whatever's left of it. I heard Po tell me that the fish haven't been biting like they used to," said Roland looking hopefully at the next table over occupant's dish of fish and bread.

  "That's because Po not's fishing like he used to," said Elezar, rolling his eyes. "I swear that boy will never make a living with his head in the clouds instead of putting his nets in the water."

  With that Elezar headed back to the kitchen and Roland took off his cloak and laid it next to him on the bench. Ealrin could see Roland's brown eyes matched his scruffy brown hair well. He was a handsome man, but perhaps would have been more so if he didn't carry with him the scars of battle. A cut across his cheek and another across his forehead denied him a polished look. Yet still, his smile, much like Holve's, was one that could make someone forget their troubles and enjoy the company of one so jovial.

  Roland shuffled around so that the assortment of weapons strapped to his back weren't in the way of his seat. A menacing battle axe, two swords, and a few others that were difficult to keep track of. Ealrin was sure there were at least eight but decided not to stare, just in case.

  "And who might your young friend here be, Holve? I've never seen him around, nor have I known you to travel with a companion," inquired Roland, turning his gaze to Ealrin for the first time, looking inquisitively at him.

  Somewhere in Ealrin's mind, a bit of the fog cleared and he took offense to being called young. Holve seemed no older that 40 and Roland appeared to be younger than Holve, though perhaps older than Ealrin. But then the fog revisited the parts it had previously vacated in his head.

  Ealrin hadn't a clue as to how old he might be. So being offended seemed odd.

  "Well Roland, I'll trade you tales since you say you have news for me," said Holve, reading Ealrin's face. Ealrin really had no desire to share his story.

  He didn't know it.

  The tale took up the time in-between waiting for Roland's fish to cook. When it came out hot and steaming next to three pieces of bread, all the parts that were known had been shared.

  "And so he's been gaining back his strength here at the Rusty Hook. Though I fear he'll need cooking of a different sort soon. He hasn't said whether or not he likes the fish," finished Holve with a rare smile at Ealrin. In fact, it may have been the first Ealrin had seen.

  Hmm. Ealrin thought for a moment and then realized he had only eaten fish or some variant of it for the last few days. His stomach rumbled a bit in agreement with Holve's statement.

  "No memory eh?" said Roland after hungrily eying his own plate of food. "No worries there, young Ealrin. There are things I'd much rather forget myself if I had the chance."

  "Like that time you went off searching for a dragon, eh Roland?" Holve said it with a bit of irritation in his voice.

  "I've just met this young man and here you are wanting to show off my most embarrassing tale," said Roland in mock remorse. "Fine, a story from me and then my news, Holve."

  It didn't seem that Roland was too embarrassed of his story. He seemed to be relishing in the chance to tell it. Ealrin noticed that a fee of the Rusty Hook's patrons had taken a break from their meals and had leaned toward their table.

  Roland took another bite out of his fish, chewed and swallowed then started in his tale.

  "I was venturing through the villages and towns in the northern rim of the republic. There had been rumors of a cleric who had been rounding up some followers and asking for all their gold. Normally religion doesn't bother me, but this one felt odd. I found the cleric and was able to expose his life pretty easily. What I couldn't shake or the rumors I heard after the cleric. Dragon. One living up in the high mountains somewhere. Seems like he got himself a stash of gold and was killing anyone who came within a few leagues of the place. So, naturally I went looking for it. I have to say adding Dragon Bane to the end of my name seems pretty tempting. Well all the signs pointed to one cave up on the Morath Mountain. But what I found wasn't a Dragon. It wasn't even a stash of gold. Just some troll Shaman trying to act all important. He burned down most of the trees and what wouldn't burn he snapped in half just to add to the story. Figure he was trying to scare everyone away because he thought he found some rimstone in the area. Well, taking on a troll Shaman wasn't near the adventure I was hoping for, but it turned out to be pretty tough. Seeing as how I'm standing here and he's not, you can guess who won. But I still hold a grudge against all trolls because of what he did to me."

  At this, Roland leaned in for dramatic effect. As a result everyone else in the end also leaned in a little closer to hear what the troll had done to him. Everyone held their breath.

  "He turned me into a chicken."

  Roland waited just a moment to let the absurdity of his statement sink in before throwing his head back and roaring with laughter. For good measure, he began clucking like a chicken and actually threw up into the air a handful of real chicken feathers.

  It wasn't long before the entire inn was laughing with him. Ealrin included. It was the first time he'd laughed since he arrived here. It may have been the first time he'd smiled as well.

  "I can't believe after all these years you still carry around a pouch of chicken feathers," said Holve through a half stifled chuckle.

  He does have some humor then, Ealrin thought.

  "And I can't believe you still set me up for that story every time we meet," chuckled Roland, wiping away tears of his own.

  Most of the patrons at the end when back to eating their meals and breaking out into small fits of laughter that remembering Roland's joke. But Ealrin had a question.

  "So how much of your tale is true?" he inquired.

  "The cleric and the troll are real. I checked those out myself after I heard his version of it the third time," said Holve. "But, to my knowledge, our friend Roland has never been a chicken."

  "In manner of speaking or in reality," added Roland, finishing off his supper and obviously pleased with himself for telling his story so well and for the reaction the other patrons of the Rusty Hook took.

  "Still, the only thing I got for all my troubles was a scar that won't heal on my neck from that blasted shaman," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "It's funny to tell it my way, but as it happened, I'd sooner forget it. As I said, Ealrin, some things are fine for forgetting."

  "I'd rather know who I am and clear the fog in my head," Ealrin replied.

  "Ah, but perhaps the man you were wasn't who you truly wished to be?” Roland said through a mouthful of fish and bread. “Like that cleric who used religion as a selfish means for himself. Suppose you used to be like him? Perhaps fate has granted you the chance of a better life than you lived before hm
m?" Roland said through half a mouthful of fish he had just purloined from Holve's plate. "Now, Holve," Roland said, turning his gaze back to his old friend with a wink. "I've been watching the goblins in the west..."

  The thought Roland had offered up hadn't occurred to Ealrin.

  Would he be glad to remember his old life, or be shocked at the revelation? Was he a good person? He felt as if he was. But what if his feelings were wrong? Perhaps he was someone who was ruthless, uncaring, and unsympathetic towards others. What if the life he had forgotten was indeed, worth forgetting?

  There wouldn't be much time for consideration. Because Elezar would come crashing out the kitchen shaking a butcher knife a man dressed from head to toe in brown cloth that obscured his feature.

  "Thief! Brigand!" yelled the old man as he chased the man out of the door. "Give me back that locket!"

  Chapter 5:

  The Stolen Locket

  Roland and Holve were the first out the door behind Elezar. For reasons unknown to him, Ealrin quickly got up as well and followed the group out of the inn.

  Elezar stood cursing the north and throwing a wooden spoon as the thief made good his escape. Roland and Holve hadn't yet made pursuit, but instead were standing next to the old man.

  "What'd he take Elezar?" asked Holve, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  At this, Elezar began to weep.

  "He grabbed my locket, Holve! That's the most precious thing in the world to me. I don't know why he'd take it. It certainly wouldn't fetch a good price at market," he said through fits of sobbing.

  "Doesn't seem to be interested in selling it," said Roland, still looking in the direction the thief went.

  “Either he’s desperate or stupid,” either is dangerous Holve said as he adjusted his sword in his hilt. “Feeling up for a bit of adventure Earlin?”

  Ealrin wasn’t sure. He’d only made a few short walks around the town of Good Harbor. This didn’t seem like it was going to be anything like a short walk. Trekking after a thief who already had a good head start on them and was heading out of town towards the forests and small mountains of the island seemed more than a little taxing to him.

  But, then again…

  It was hard to put a finger on it. Just like when Roland had called him young, at the thought of going off on a chase like this, an adventure, seemed to clear the fog a bit for Ealrin. Perhaps the man he couldn’t remember used to do things like this all the time: chased down thieves, climb mountains, did for others instead of himself.

  Something in it seemed natural.

  “Let’s go,” said Ealrin.

  “Now there’s some fight in you," said Holve. “Let’s see if you can put it to any good use.” Holve was almost glaring at him as he spoke. Was he daring him to run after the thief after just recovering from his injury? It certainly felt like it to Ealrin.

  “Are you sure old friend?” Roland said cautiously. “Ealrin here may not be up for it.”

  At this, Ealrin knew actions would speak volumes when his words would fall short and set off at a jog in the direction of the thief.

  “Are you going to let him keep his head start?” he shouted over his shoulder.

  The chase has begun.

  ***

  Good Harbor was concentrated on the shore. Most of the businesses were built as close to the water as earth would allow. Ancient stones shored up the water as to not allow the soil to be loosed out to sea by the tides. Looking down into the depths would allow you to see the murky water of the Forean Sea, the eastern side of the island.

  The various shops and businesses that made up good harbors commercial district could be shopped and visited with a morning walk. Each shop was made of wood and fairly plain, save for the painted signs that dictated whether you were walking into a baker’s shop or a fish market. Paint peeled off the front and sides of most of the buildings due to the sea air. Each was closely packed next to the other, so as to be close to the shore and in good sight of any traveler who stepped off of the docks. The stores all had some sort of glass front or window so as to show off their wares and several had something for sale out on table. The effect was four or five good streets that split out from the docks to do your shopping on, with each having its on flavor of things to sell: metal and leather, fruit and other grown food, meat and animals. The five streets made the city of Good Harbor look like the fingers of a hand outstretched, with the palm being the docks and the water.

  The docks themselves were a maze of old, sun-bleached, and slightly warping wooden paths that allowed small row boats to be tied to them. Piles of goods stood were stacked onto every available space. Not that they stayed there long. Either the goods would go to the shops or the residents or be put onto the ships that were anchored out further at sea. The water close to Good Harbor was too shallow to allow for the bigger ships to sail too close.

  The residences that came after the shops, further past the shore, could all be seen with a walk during the afternoon. Though the Rusty Hook was a good place to stay if you didn't wished to be seen, you could hardly walk around the city of Good Harbor without being noticed by the general population.

  Not a good place for a thief to run and hide. The people of Good Harbor were too proud to be a refuge for thieves intentionally.

  So it was no surprise that the thief passed the walls of the city as quickly as possible. Though the town was small, an ancient wall protected it from outsiders and invaders.

  "A city without a wall is like a chest without a lock. Easy pickings," Holve would later say.

  The wall was the only thing made of stone in the whole city. Everything else was wooden and made from the trees that were closer to the city than the far mountains. Holve said that the wall was older than even Elezar, and that was saying something.

  The trio jogged past the town and down one of the dirt roads that ran from Good Harbor to the outside farms and small villages. A man who was guarding the door to the city had seen the thief run past the door and pointed the direction to the three. It was not yet fully dark when the gates were closed. He reminded them that he would be closing the gates behind them and to expect not to be let in during the night unless they made a big racket trying to get someone’s attention.

  Apparently the city guard was understaffed.

  Holve knew every farmer and villager by name. Ealrin was certainly impressed. Not just with Holve's uncanny recollection, but also by the sheer time and energy it must have taken the man to know such small details of each and every family.

  The first farmer's daughter had a bad leg. After asking if they had seen a man who fit the description ("He went running like he was demon chased toward the Lonely Pass!" the farmer had said), Holve had inquired quickly about how his daughter was getting along learning to make and repair garments so that the family could benefit from her, even though she was physically unable to help around the land. It was like Holve had told Ealrin, everyone on the island seemed to be there against their better judgment. They were either physically unable to get off, made a decent enough living as a shop vender to note care, or couldn’t afford passage to the mainland.

  Holve's mind was a treasure trove of information about the island and its inhabitants.

  Ealrin's mind was an island in and of itself: one shrouded in fog.

  The island could be covered from coast to coast in two days time at a jog. Both Holve and Roland have had to do this on several occasions. As they ran, Roland was relating the stories to Ealrin, who was thankful for an excuse not to say more than grunt every once and awhile. His body was still not fully recovered from being injured and his ribs, though sufficiently scabbed over and healed, were still sore and bruised. Currently, they were screaming at the abuse he was inflicting on them.

  "...of course that was after we had to round up that group of dwarves who claimed an ancient stronghold on the mountains. Ha! I've seen those mountains and the only inside them is rock and more rocks. Ancestor's Hall my foot! They were looking for an excuse to sett
le and mine for gold without going through the Republic's paperwork. They only put up a little fight when they saw my posse and I coming after them!" related Roland. Ealrin was jealous beyond measure. Roland had hardly stopped for a break from the job, had barely stopped relating past stories from adventures in and around Good Harbor, and had yet to break a sweat, let alone be short of breath.

  Even though he ached with every step now, Ealrin certainly took in the he beauty of the island as they pursued the man who had stolen the locket. All of the villagers or farmers who had been watchful of the roads had pointed them continually towards what they referred to as "Lonely Pass." Spring had come beautifully for the island. Trees were exploding with the colors of their blossoms and the ground was giving forth life in all directions. To look in one direction would give you a fantastic view of a small mountain ridge rising up to meet the majestic reds and oranges of the setting sun in the west. To gaze in the other direction would give you a view of the land as it gradually slopped down to the sea. Night was beginning to fall in earnest and the deep blues and purples of the night sky were taking the place of the opposites sky's burning sun.

  It was truly beautiful here.

  Not a bad island to crash land on, Ealrin thought.

  Holve finally stopped them upon coming to the entrance of what Ealrin guessed was Lonely Pass. It certainly looked lonely. At the base of the mountain grew a forest coming to life with the spring. Two of the mountains split ways at some point long ago to form a pass between them, covered in trees yet still allowing for a path to grow between. Only the desperate would take such a route in the night. Again, as Ealrin thought of the creatures of the the night, some fogged cleared. Traveling through a forest at night would not be ideal; least of all for someone who was as tired as he was.

  "If we head a bit to the east we can see if Old Soltack will allow us to stay the night with him. I wouldn't want to travel much through the woods while..." Holve cast a quick look at Ealrin, who was desperately trying not to breath as heavily as he wanted to through his burning ribs. "Well, while we can't see our hands in front of our faces."