The Wanderer's Tale: Esmor

by Rex Foote

  They resumed eating their meals in silence, before Esme surprised Hark for the second time that evening. As they just finished eating, she asked, “Orgha, you have lived your whole life out here in the wilds, right?” At Orgha’s nod, she went on. “Can you teach me how? How to live out here, I mean?”

  By the Ohruin’s startled expression, it wasn’t just Hark taken off guard by that question. But whereas Hark’s thoughts were that she wouldn’t need to know how to live out here when she was back in Caladaria, the big Ohruin merely grinned and with a sly wink replied, “I can teach and will, so long as you can keep up.”

  ***

  It turned out that the next day, both of them managed to keep up. This was helped by Orgha keeping to the slower pace he’d established yesterday, and by taking a few short rests. Esme walked alongside Orgha, and from the snippets of conversation that floated back to him, Hark gathered that the he was teaching Esme a great deal. The Ohruin pointed out herbs and plants that they passed and told Esme of their uses. He also told her about the basics of navigation using the sun as a reference point, something that the wood-bound Elreni had never needed to learn. The day passed in this manner, Esme and Orgha up front with the Ohruin teaching Esme about the basics of survival, and Hark taking up the rear. For his part, Hark let his mind drift. He thought of his father and Caladaria, what he would do when he got back to the city, and of everything that he and Esme had been through so far.

  This time, when the day’s travel was halted for the evening, neither Hark nor Esme collpased, though Hark could tell from the way she walked that Esme was still sore. Regardless of that, she once more offered to help, and Orgha instructed her to go and search the area for some herbs to help with dinner, and to take his faithful wolf, Faolan, with her for protection. As they walked off into the darkness, Hark sat and rubbed at his own sore feet, not being used to such a long period of travel, as Orgha set about getting their camp ready.

  “Why are you teaching her?” Hark asked suddenly, voicing a question that had weighed on his mind the whole day. At Orgha’s silence, he carried on. “I have known her for years, and while she has wanted to journey around Esmor for as long as I have known her, she will want to return to her old life after all this is done.”

  “I believe,” Orgha began slowly, his tone low and careful, “that you have underestimated her.” He paused as if carefully considering his next words, and Hark waited for him to carry on. Eventually, he said, “Perhaps you don’t know her as well as you think? Perhaps you have misjudged her character.”

  “What?” Hark said, surprised to find his tone edged with anger.

  “Before I met your friend, I would have said that what you say applies to all Humans,” Orgha continued. “That they will take the easier life when it is offered and that they would seek comfort whenever possible. After all, why else would they try so hard to keep the wilds from their cities? But I see in your friend something new, something I have yet to see in Humans. She truly does love the wild; it calls to her, and I would not be so quick to say that when her old life calls her back that she will willingly return.”

  “You have only known her for two days. How can you possibly have gotten all that from a few brief conversations?”

  “Possibly because I have been willing to listen to her. Because I have no firmly set ideas about how she is supposed to act and what she is supposed to want?”

  “Careful, Ohruin,” Hark growled. “I have known Esme for thirteen years, and know her far better than you ever will. Don’t presume to know more than you could.”

  In a calm, conversational tone, Orgha replied, “You claim to know her. But now I wonder if you just assume to know her rather than actually knowing her.”

  Hark was going to reply, but then the full implication of Orgha’s words hit him. He snapped his mouth shut and sat in sullen silence while he took in the Ohruin’s words and tried, yet failed, to deny them. Orgha went back to his tasks while Hark replayed the events for the past ten or so days over in his head, and as he recalled her during that time, he noticed something that he had missed before. There was something about her smile, her expressions, and her eyes. They all seemed to be renewed in some way, as if she had been given a boost of energy that she had lacked in Caladaria. Even when the pair had been facing death, that glint had been there, as if this trip even at its most dangerous was what she wanted more than her old life. He dwelled on this for the rest of the evening as Esme returned with Faolan in tow. He continued to think about it, but not just in regards to the events of the journey so far, but of the thirteen years that he had known her, and as he sat in thoughtful silence, Esme and Orgha talked into the night. Eventually, Hark felt the day’s travel catch up with him, and he slowly fell into sleep, still wrestling with what Orgha had said and the changes that had come over his friend.

  ***

  The next day, Orgha called a stop around sun’s peak. Even though it had taken longer than he would have liked, the Ohruin was confident that they would reach his tribe by evening and so could afford the halt in travel. They were eating in silence when Faolan came alert, ears back and muzzle pointed towards a nearby hill line. Orgha stood and, picking up his spear, he turned to the two and said, “Wait here.”

  Then he and Faolan trotted off towards the hill line, climbed the gentle slope, and quickly disappeared from view. Esme and Hark exchanged worried glances and quickly ate the rest of their meal. Then Hark drew his bow and checked his hunting knife while Esme started to pack up her gear in case they needed to run. Esme had no energy left to draw upon and risked Overdraw if she tried, whereas Hark wondered if he had the strength to even draw his bow. Then Orgha appeared on the hill line and beckoned them towards him. They finished gathering their things and made their way towards him, climbing the hilltop quickly. As they reached Orgha, he motioned to them to crouch low and gestured to what lay on the other side of the hill. Before them, about thirty yards from the base of the hill, lay a group of large, scaled, four-limbed creatures. Their bodies were long and sinuous and their legs were short yet powerful. They were covered in dark green scales that seemed to absorb the sun. Quite a few lay on their backs, their bellies exposed to the sun’s warm light. Their heads were wedge-shaped, and they had knife-like snouts with deep-set eyes.

  “Plains wyrms,” Orgha said to the pair as they took in the sight below. All combined, there were ten of the animals. Seven larger ones and three smaller ones that Hark assumed were their young.

  “Are they dangerous?” Esme asked.

  “Yes, and they are pack hunters, but this pack has recently fed,” Orgha replied. “Don’t worry, we are in no danger from them.”

  They watched the plains wyrms for a few moments longer, then returned back down the side of the hill. As they descended, Hark saw in Esme’s expression that same spark he had struggled to identify before. It danced across her eyes as she smiled at the memory of what she had seen. At that moment, Hark knew what that spark meant—it was joy, happiness, and contentment combined. It showed that this was what she wanted to see and to experience more than anything else. How could someone go back to a life without that spark after experiencing life with it? These thoughts filled Hark’s head as the trio set off once more, and continued to dog him as in the gathering gloom of evening they reached Orgha’s tribe.

  Chapter Twelve

  15th Day of Daaris. The Season of Light. Year 250

  Despite their tired state after the past several days of constant travel, Orgha led the pair straight to the shaman’s tent. As they passed through the camp, Ohruin emerged to watch them pass with looks of interest, wonder, amazement, and occasionally contempt visible on their faces. The shaman’s tent was located in the centre of the camp and guarded by grim, silent Ohruin wearing long fur cloaks and wielding tall, flint-tipped spears. They nodded as Orgha approached and to Esme’s surprise let the trio pass without incident. Inside sat an old Ohruin with heavily lined dark green skin and tusks yellowed with age.

 
“Orgha,” he said, greeting them as they entered. “Welcome back. What have you brought with you?”

  “Yatur,” Orgha addressed the Ohruin shaman, “I found these two out on the plains. They ran into a denizen of the Skittering Dark twice, and killed it on their second encounter.”

  At this, the shaman’s eyes widened slightly, and his expression became one of interest.

  “Sit, sit,” he said, gesturing to the pair while to Orgha he said, “Please bring them food and water.”

  As the Ohruin left the tent, Yatur turned back to the pair. “Now, tell me your tale, and leave nothing out.”

  And so they did. At first, they tried to skip to the bits they thought the shaman would be interested in, mainly their meetings with the monster, but the old Ohruin wanted to hear everything from the moment their journey started. During the tale, food and water were bought and the pair alternated between speaking and eating.

  When at last they had finished, Yatur nodded slowly and said, “What you faced is referred to as a Pale Hulk, one of the types of beings that dwell within the Skittering Dark, and one of the monsters that give that place its dread reputation.”

  The pair continued to eat as the shaman trailed off, looking out the tent flap behind them into the night.

  “That you encountered one twice is deeply troubling,” the shaman continued. “But not for you.” He stood and called for one of his guards. As the Ohruin entered, Yatur said, “Follow Kegth, he will take you to a place you can sleep. Then in the morning you will be given supplies and Orgha will escort you back to the Human roads so that you may return home.”

  At her side, Hark seemed to be pleased by this news, but Esme felt doubt build within her. She should have been happy that the ordeal was almost over, but she wasn’t, and felt instead what she could only describe as sadness. But that couldn’t be. These thoughts continued as they followed the guard out of the tent to another close to the shaman’s own. As they settled down amid blankets of animal hide, her mind went over and over her reaction to the shaman’s offer. It was madness to not take it. After all, in the past ten days she had experienced more discomfort, suffering, fear, and had had to face death more times than ever before in her life. But a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that that wasn’t all she had experienced, for while there had been moments of fear and discomfort, there had also been wonder, peace, and beauty. Things she had never actually experienced until this journey. She went back and forth on this point until at last her exhaustion caught up with her, and she fell into a deep sleep.

  She woke the next morning just as the sun had started to lighten the eastern horizon. Quickly, she rose and made her way to the shaman’s tent, determined to talk to him about his offer, though she still hadn’t made her mind up about what she would say. Perhaps merely talking about it would help her decide. As she came into view of the tent, she spotted two guards standing by the entrance, and as she drew close, they crossed their spears over the entrance to bar her path.

  “Stop,” one said, his deep voice doing more to halt Esme than the crossed spears. “He has asked not to be disturbed.”

  “Who is it, Yagnar?” Yatur asked from within the tent, before Esme had the chance to speak.

  “The young Human,” the guard replied.

  “Let her in.”

  Without a word to Esme, the guards uncrossed their spears, and Esme entered the tent to find the shaman with his back to her. He looked out through the other side of the tent, whose wall he had lifted up to watch the dawn.

  “Ah, Esme,” Yatur said by way of greeting. “What can I do for you?”

  “About your offer to guide us back to the road, and Caladaria…I don’t want it.”

  At this, Yatur turned and looked at her, his expression unreadable in the gloom of the tent. She continued unperturbed.

  “I mean, it’s not that I am not grateful for the offer, but I don’t want to go home—I want to go to Mymt Lagoon.”

  Still, the Ohruin said nothing to this, merely continuing to watch Esme, who didn’t seem to notice that the conversation was so far one-sided.

  “It may seem like I have gone mad, but I haven’t. Yes, ever since I left home, I have been in either a state of constant fear or exhaustion, or sometimes both. But I have never felt so, so…”

  She waved her hands as if she was trying to grasp for the right word.

  “Alive,” Yatur offered.

  “Alive, that’s it. Living out in the wild, foraging for my own food and cooking it, waking up every day to sun covering the land in a warm glow. It all makes me feel alive.”

  She paused opposite the Ohruin, leaning forward slightly as if the admission had exhausted her.

  “You know, when I was in Caladaria doing nothing but studying and practicing each and every day, it felt dull, lifeless, and boring. Yes, yes, I know, I was studying magic and learning to be a mage so I could serve my king, but it wasn’t enough. Each morning I would wake up dreading the pointless nothing of sitting in a dusty room and reading books that I had very little interest in, only then to go outside into a small courtyard surrounded by stone walls and practice the basics of magic. And then my friends, family, and teachers would talk about Esmor—not the towns and cities, but the lakes, forests, hills, and plains. They would talk about walking through the Kuddin Woods in the Season of Dusk, about seeing a frozen pond on the way to Shadehill or of seeing the snowclad Western Border Mountains in the morning light. And all the while when they talked, I kept on thinking what in Tuemis’s name I was doing spending my days in a dusty room rather than being out there and seeing these things for myself.”

  She paused to take a drink from the cup that another member of the tribe had come in to set down beside her as she spoke. As she was drinking, Yatur said, “A Human whose heart sings for nature. I had not expected to see such a thing. Your kind seems almost opposed to the idea of nature, building high walls to keep it out and doing everything within your power to keep it from your daily lives. If I had known, I wouldn’t have even made the offer.”

  At this, Esme put down her cup and said, “So you’re not going to force us to leave?”

  The Ohruin’s face split into a broad smile at her words as he replied, “No, I will not force you to do anything. The offer I made last night was made because I presumed to know you, to know your mind and what you wanted to do next. I see now that I was wrong.”

  “And you know me now?” Esme said, her brows furrowing in faint confusion.

  “I think I have a better understanding,” replied Yatur. “While you spoke of your dislike of study and your desire to roam the land, I watched you. Your eyes sparkled with joy and life when you spoke of how your journey made you feel, and they dulled with resignation when you talked about study and routine. I may not know you fully, Esme the Wanderer, but I do see what you want to do next and where you wish to go.”

  Esme beamed at him, not only happy with his reply but with herself. This whole conversation had been the culmination of a debate that had been raging inside her head ever since her mother had called her into her office back in Caladaria. The sides had been clear cut; on one hand, there was the part of her that wanted her old life of comfort and routine, and on the other hand, there was the part of her that had wanted the beauty and wonder of the wilds. Now, here in this tent with only this Ohruin shaman to witness it, the debate had been won—she would forsake her old life and go wherever the days led. What exactly that involved, she didn’t yet know, but she knew that she would never again go back to her old life.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Yatur as he said, “And what of your friend, will he be staying as well?”

  Esme paused, caught off guard by what should have been an obvious question with an obvious answer.

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly, remembering his repeated attempts to get them back to the city, attempts that she believed had had to do with more than just her well-being.

  “I will speak to him.” His words snapped
her out of her thoughts.

  “You will?”

  “Yes. I see in your expression that you are unsure of where his desires lie. Perhaps a conversation will help resolve any doubt, as it did for you.”

  She nodded her agreement at this; it couldn’t hurt to try. She remembered Hark’s distraught state after they killed the Pale Hulk, and his face moments before the mud had closed over her head, and knew then that perhaps a conversation with the shaman was just what he needed.

  “Bula,” called the shaman, and a moment later a female Ohruin entered. Gesturing at Esme, Yatur carried on, “This is Esme. She wishes to learn our ways, and how we live out here in this wild expanse. Show her, teach her.”

  Esme was slightly taken aback at this. “I never said anything about being taught.”

  Yatur gave her a warm, knowing smile. “Not with your words, true, but your eyes and face told a different story.”

  Blushing at how easy it had been for the Ohruin to read her desires, she turned to go, but as she did, Yatur asked, “Why Mymt?”

  She looked back at the shaman. “What?”

  “Why, out of all the places you could go, why Mymt?”

  Esme was silent for a while before replying. “Over the past twelve to thirteen days, I have walked, ran, and even crawled more than I have in my whole life. I have seen the sun rise over dew-covered plains, stormfronts illuminated by bolts of lightning, and the rays of evening cutting through a tree trunk at a wood’s edge. I have also been chased by, then forced to kill, a monster, and I’ve never felt more tired or been more sore. And I did all of that while trying to reach the lagoon.”

  She smiled, looking embarrassed.

  “It seems like a waste to turn back now.”

  She followed Bula out of the tent and back towards where she had spent the night. As they reached the tent, Bula turned to her and said, “Gather your things and come with me. Ohruin sleep together at night for warmth and safety. Only guests and shamans sleep apart. If you wish to learn of our ways, then you must live them.”