by Jeff Gunzel
“What’s wrong with them?” Viola asked, watching them curiously.
“Wrong?” Bella repeated, amused. “Why, there is nothing wrong with them at all. Quite the contrary, actually. You asked why we thought you were safer here than anywhere else. The reason is simple. I’m human, as you well know, and I haven’t been here that long. But I have seen enough. The spiritists have abilities that humans like myself could only dream of. They can actually communicate with spirits, if you can imagine.”
“Yes, I actually knew that,” Viola said, thinking back to her talks with Salina before she discovered her friend’s true identity. She seemed to know things before they happened. It was hard to understand at the time, but the reason was clear to her now. A spirit had whispered to her, informing her of things she couldn’t possibly have known otherwise. “But it’s sort of random, isn’t it? Sometimes the spirits have a voice, other times they are silent. It’s not the sort of thing that can be counted on all the time.”
“Normally that’s true, but it’s different when we’re this close to the tower,” Bella explained. “Spirits can be found roaming all over the realm. Some remain active in their quest to search for answers they couldn’t find while they were still alive. Yet the vast majority keep to themselves, having no influence at all on the physical world. But those who dwell here in the Latrain Mountains are linked directly to the tower itself. Their bond with the spiritists is strong.”
Viola looked down at them again, at that misty white fog hovering over their eyes. “So what you’re saying is...”
“What I’m saying is that whatever the local spirits see, the spiritists see as well. I’m not sure of the exact radius, but it’s fairly large. If anyone were to try to attack the tower, we would have plenty of warning long before they arrived. And you’ve already seen what the spiritists can do on the battlefield when given time to plan. The system is not perfect, Viola, but I feel confident in saying that you are safer here than anywhere else.”
Viola had so many questions, but one in particular came to mind. “How did someone like you get here?” she asked. “Er, Your Highness,” she added quickly, awkwardly bending at the knees. Given everything that had happened today, she suddenly just remembered that she was casually speaking with royalty, as if Bella were an old friend.
Bella smiled at her innocence. “Destiny,” she answered simply. “Shall we go speak with Rishima now? I know you have a lot of questions.”
Viola did have many questions. But now that she felt more secure in her surroundings, the fatigue of all she had endured over this last day was beginning to set in. “Actually...” she began, wondering if it might be rude to decline a request she herself had made.
“Or...would you like to go to your quarters and rest?” Bella asked, seeing the weariness in Viola’s eyes. “There is no rush. Remember, you are friends, and there is nothing to be concerned about.” Viola nodded at the suggestion, admittedly relieved.
Bella regarded Viola a moment longer as her heavy eyelids began to droop. “I can tell, you know. You look just like him.”
“What?” Viola asked, suddenly realizing she had been falling asleep on her feet.
“Nothing, dear. Come on, then. Let’s get you into a nice warm bed.”
* * *
Xavier pressed on as he rode hard into the night. His horse rasped away, each labored breath a chore for the poor animal. It didn’t matter. Driven only by a single goal, he was determined to let nothing get in the way. I must keep going. Clinging tight to the animal’s mane, he no longer had feeling in his fingers. Seeing hair sprouting up between his fingers was the only way he knew he was still holding on.
With a snort, the horse stopped suddenly and reared up, throwing Xavier from its back. He landed on the ground with a jarring thud, knocking the wind out of him. He lay on his back a moment, staring up at the night sky while gasping for air. The star-filled view was crisp and clear tonight. His air slowly returning, a thought occurred to him as he zeroed in on the brightest star. If by chance Viola was looking up to the sky this evening, they were probably looking at the exact same star. Although not likely, the thought was strangely comforting. It made him feel as if she were closer somehow.
Sitting up with a groan, Xavier crawled over to his downed horse. It didn’t appear to be hurt, just exhausted. “I know,” he said, stroking its neck as it seemed to snort in reply. “But stopping is not an option for me. Thank you for taking me this far, friend. Take care of yourself.” With that, Xavier began running on unsteady legs. Running alone across a wide open plain, he knew he looked like a fool. But none of that mattered. He would find a way to reach her no matter the cost.
Hours passed and the eastern sky was growing pink with a new dawn. Throat dry, each labored breath a rasping wheeze, Xavier stumbled and dropped down to all fours. Head spinning, stomach queasy, he fought to stay conscious. Must...keep...going! He began to crawl, hoping for the second wind he knew would never come. He was spent, and still had no idea how much farther he needed to go. Hope and passion had gotten him this far, but his body had reached its physical limits. His head thumped against the grass, eyelids fluttering. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he wheezed.
He blinked as the light of flicking torches disturbed his dreamlike state of fatigue. Barely conscious, he rolled to his stomach only to see a pair of boots right under his nose. “Who? What are you— ”
Unable to withstand the deadly fatigue another second, his eyes closed as the blackness took him.
Chapter 2
Xavier groaned, his surroundings warping into view as he began to slowly re-emerge from a world of nothingness. In his dreamlike state, something tugged at the back of his mind. There was something he needed to do, something urgent. He should not be here. But wait, where was here? Why was he sleeping? There was no time for rest. What was going on? Why... He sat up with a jolt, all the urgency that had driven him thus far flooding back in a rush. “Why am I... I can’t be here. I have to go!” he said, his voice raspy, throat dry.
An open hand flashed against his chest, pushing him back onto a hard bed made of woven straw. “Oh no you don’t, young man,” said the girl hovering over him like a hawk. Wearing a tattered white apron and a red bonnet holding back her short brown hair, she only looked to be a few years older than him. “I don’t think you’re in condition to be doing...well...anything. At least not for a while, anyway.”
When he sat up again in protest, the room began spinning even worse than before. Cheeks puffing out, he clasped a hand over his mouth. Bucket already in hand, the girl quickly placed it up on the bed right in front of him. “Well, that didn’t take long,” she groaned with a sarcastic tone.
Thrusting his face down into the bucket, Xavier retched violently. Unfazed by it all, she watched as he heaved again and again, dry-heaving several more times long after his stomach had emptied. When he finally felt it was safe enough, he set the bucket aside and flopped back onto the bed. “Who are you?” he groaned. “Where am I?”
“Here, drink this,” she said, shoving a wooden cup under his nose instead of answering his questions. Eyes bloodshot, he glared at her suspiciously.
“Right. Instead of killing you while you slept, I thought it would be easier to wait until you were awake, then poison you.” She shook the cup impatiently, a clear liquid sloshing around inside. “Drink. I know it’s hard to keep anything down right now, but you will just prolong your agony if you don’t try.”
He sat up and frowned at the cup. Reluctantly, he clasped it with both hands and forced down a swallow. Thin and watery with a light sweetness, it was actually quite refreshing. He blew out a breath and lay back down. After only a few moments the spinning room began to calm, his stomach feeling much better.
“I have to go,” he said, yet made no move to sit up again. “She is waiting for me.”
“Well, I’m afraid she must wait a little longer,” the girl said. “You’re in no shape to travel, and probably won’t be for at lea
st a few days.”
“I don’t have a few days,” Xavier protested, this time trying to sit up again. But she easily pushed him back down, a bit more forcefully than before. This boy’s persistence was becoming irritating.
“Whatever it is you are running from, it isn’t worth your life,” she said. “Besides, you’re safe here. No one will find you. And since we are on the subject, you might consider showing me a little gratitude for saving your life. We could have just left you out there, you know.”
Xavier just stared at her, contemplating his next move. He knew she was right, of course. He was in no shape to travel after having nearly run himself to death. Dehydration and exhaustion had taken their toll. He really was lucky to be alive thanks to her.
“Then at least tell me your name,” she said, doing nothing to hide her irritation. “I’ll start. My name is Briana.”
“Xavier,” Xavier said quietly. “And thank you for helping me. I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful for what you did.”
She flashed a satisfied smile, then walked over to a large bowl sitting on a stand in the corner. Wringing out a soaking rag, she rolled it up and returned to place it on his forehead. It smelled tangy and sour, but the fumes further eased his swimming head.
“So why don’t you tell me what you were running from? If you’re in some kind of trouble...” she asked, sitting on the corner of the bed. The firm bed had very little give to it, and the straw creaked and crackled under her weight.
“I wasn’t running from anything,” he assured her, rolling his head away. Aside from a few chairs and a single stand, the mostly empty room felt more like a tiny hut. “I was running to catch up with them, with her. They took her.” He closed his eyes. “They took her from me,” he repeated softly to himself.
“Who is it you’re talking about?” Briana asked, suddenly looking quite interested in his story. “Who are you chasing?” She paused, then slowly sat up on the bed. “The spiritists?” she questioned softly.
“They were riding giant birds when they took her away,” he said. He didn’t know what those beings called themselves, but he could describe that much about them. “They took her!” Caught up in the moment, he rolled from the bed and got to his feet, intent on running out the door to give chase once more. But after three wobbly steps he was back on the floor.
“Foolish boy,” Briana said, helping Xavier back up to his feet. “Start running now and you will be dead within the hour. Surely you know that.” She led him back to the corner of the bed. He wouldn’t lie back down, but at least he was sitting.
“You speak of the spiritists,” she confirmed. “Word of what happened in Shadowfen has already reached our village. That’s where you came from, correct?” Staring at the floor, he nodded slowly.
“Well, there is nothing you can do for her in your current condition. I didn’t bring you back from the brink of death just to have you run off and die a day later,” she said.
They sat in silence for a time. Xavier knew he owed this girl his life, yet all he could think about was Viola and how he was going to reach her. It would probably be a few days before he had the strength to keep going. But then what? He didn’t even have a horse. He had failed her again, and the crushing weight of that reality threatened to consume him.
“Can you walk?” Briana asked, breaking the silence after a time.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I feel much stronger than even a few minutes ago.” He wasn’t sure he believed that, but it sounded like the right thing to say.
“Good. Normally I would insist that you rest here a while longer, but I can see how urgently you want to leave. Because of that, it seems I am left with only two choices. Either I tie you down to that bed, lest you sneak off in the middle of the night, or we go now and try to find you some answers to help put your mind at ease. I must admit, Xavier, the fact that you freely admit your pursuit of the spiritists troubles me somewhat.”
“Why would that trouble you?” Xavier asked. “I told you they have my friend.”
“Yes,” she said, pausing to think before continuing. “It is this friend you speak of who troubles me. There are rumors abound, and your admission all but confirms them.” Without another word she stood and made her way out the door.
Xavier struggled to his feet but managed to follow her outside. He shielded his eyes from the sudden blast of sunlight. It was only now that he realized how dark that room actually was. The bright light triggered a prompt return of his nausea, but it was nowhere near as bad as before.
Xavier felt so careless as he followed her. He knew better than to trust some perfect stranger he had only met a short time ago, even if she did apparently save his life. But here he was going right along with her, possibly walking right into a trap. Yet somehow it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Probing his own thoughts, he came to the conclusion that his actions weren’t necessarily careless, but more desperate than anything else. He had simply run out of options. He was too weak to continue, and dying within a day or two would do nothing to aid Viola. He was literally at the mercy of these people and left with no other option. Desperate indeed, but necessary if there was to be any hope of finding Viola.
Walking side by side, they moved through what looked to be a very old village. These old cottages and small shops were horribly dated, using blocky shapes and styles Xavier had only seen in paintings and books. Square and simple, these structures were built only for functionality and little else. He hadn’t thought much of Briana’s clothing, given that she was basically just an overseer tending to his health. But everywhere he looked he saw women wearing tattered aprons with their hair tied back. The men wore dingy white work shirts and tattered pants, no doubt working a field nearby.
There were no roads to speak of, only worn dirt paths that seemed to connect these cottages by a network of trails. The main path splitting the village was rather wide but nearly unusable, at least as far as a wagon or cart might be concerned. The ground was uneven, and every few feet one could see a half-covered stone protruding up from the packed dirt. Any wagon attempting to travel this perilous path would most likely tip over.
There were children about—many, in fact. But there was something off about them, something Xavier couldn’t quite put his finger on. Some sat on rickety porches, just staring as they passed by. Xavier’s eyes settled on a small boy standing on the side of the path. No older than six or seven, the boy watched them curiously with his arms folded across his front, chewing on a long piece of seeding grass. Xavier smiled down at the boy as they passed by, considering whether or not to pat him on the head. No doubt his parents were nearby and may or may not be fine with such an affectionate gesture from a perfect stranger.
But instead of smiling back, the boy scoffed with disgust. With a roll of his eyes he stomped off through the tall grass. Xavier stopped, watching the boy from behind in disbelief. That eerie gesture from one so young sent chills down his spine. Had that really just happened? Perhaps the medicine on that rag was playing tricks on his mind.
Swinging around the corner, a wobbly old shack came into view. With its roof slightly offset, rotted old shingles curled and warped, it looked as though it could come down at any moment. Positioned right in the center of the village with nothing but open space surrounding it, the location couldn’t be more odd. In any other village, such an eyesore would just be taken down and used for firewood.
Two women stood on the porch, one plunging away as she worked an old butter churn, the other beating the dust off an old frayed rug hung over a wire. “She is expecting you,” said the woman churning butter, not even bothering to look up from her work.
“Who? Who is expecting us?” Xavier asked, not liking the look of this one bit. The strange vibes given off by this place—the whole village, really—shouldn’t have been this unsettling for a warrior such as himself. Even with his body as weakened as it was, he had yet to see anyone in this little sleepy village who should pose a threat. So why these uneasy feelings?
“The village Elder,” Briana answered, gesturing towards the crooked door with one hinge missing. “And she is not expecting us, she is expecting you. I go no further because I am not the one who was summoned.”
Xavier marched up the sagging steps, each step creaking and groaning under his weight. Still trying to shake away the uneasy feeling, he pushed back the door with no handle and stepped inside. After being in the sunlight for so long, the room seemed so dark that he had to stop and let his eyes adjust. It was dank and musty with the distinct scent of rot hanging heavy in the air. Blinking away the shadows, his vision slowly sharpening, he noticed various wires hung all around, each with tiny bones strung all over them like wind chimes. The bones were probably from birds or rodents, he couldn’t tell which.
Something moved in the corner, and Xavier instinctively reached for his blades. Of course, they were not there, as they had already been taken. They weren’t foolish enough to let this stranger roam the village fully armed. What almost appeared to be some kind of animal turned out to be a bent old woman. Severely hunched and facing away as she had been, her twisted shape had not drawn his attention right away. The fact that he didn’t notice a person standing only a few feet away served as a reminder of how fatigued he was, both mentally and physically.
“Welcome, stranger,” she hissed, her airy voice a breathy rasp. “I see you’re feeling much better.”
“I am, thank you,” Xavier replied, his eyes darting around the room. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be stuffed birds and small animals staring back at him. In truth, he was simply trying not to stare at this woman. Never had seen someone so...ugly. Besides being bent like a broken tree, her bulbous nose seemed to take up half her face. Her face itself was long and thin, and seemed to flow right down into a pointed chin like a half-melted candle. Her thin white hair did little to cover a wrinkled scalp with dark splotches scattered about like spilled tea. And her clothes were far too big, making her look as if she had wrapped herself in a curtain.
