Mind's Journey 2: Of Monsters and Men (A Gamelit Fantasy Adventure - Book 2)

by William H. Dewayne

  This indecision leaves an unsettling silence amongst us. We cannot ignore the truth. We are playing this entire quest by ear, or that’s the way G. described it once. At first, I believed that G. and David had an idea, but their limits are showing. Yesterday’s plan was a perfect example of this. It fell apart, and David had to create a second to salvage a victory.

  “Why aren’t we walking closer to the wall?” I inquire. With how this conversation has gone, I don’t know if they will listen or disregard my concern, but I deserve an answer. If we’re trying to find a crossing point, shouldn’t we be closer to the wall than we are? As far as I can tell, the wall doesn’t exist.

  “A party of this size can’t be that close without attracting attention. We have to remain as far from it as possible,” G. answers. “But don’t worry, we have our ways of knowing where the ideal point of entry would be. You let us worry about the wall.”

  “And those methods would be?” Queen leans forward, eager to hear the answer to her final question.

  David’s eyes narrow as he faces her. “As Mr. G. said, let us worry about the wall.” His tone was cold, and it allowed no option for further discussion. This line of conversation is over. To accent his declaration, he stands up, rolling his map into a tube, and walks away.

  Queen clicks her teeth. “Fine,” she says under her breath. “Be that way.”

  A noise breaks the tension. We turn, tensing for a battle, only to find Zero springing out from behind a tree. He smiles around at everyone, making his first appearance of the day. On his face, there isn’t the slightest hint that he knows or cares about what just happened. “C’mon everyone,” Zero calls in a boisterous yell. “There’s a lot of ground to cover today. Zero’s so excited.” Funny, cause based on everyone else’s faces, he’s the only one who feels that way.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Seven Plus Zero

  5

  Leaping over Queen to her chagrin, Zero springs around the group. She ducks to avoid being struck by his left foot. His bo staff, a long, slender club of a stick with white bandages binding the center, rests on his shoulder. He grabs a bowl of soup and slurps it up before continuing. With each step, he almost bounces as he walks, even if he steps on a tree root. “A monster has got to be around here somewhere. Let’s go, or you’ll waste the day.” No one says a word.

  Not waiting for any reply, Zero rushes off, jumping up to a tree branch and leaping from tree to tree as if he were a woodland creature. His cries of our needing to hurry echo the further he goes. We watch him go in silence. Ever since last night, no one has spoken to Zero, not that he makes himself the easiest to talk to. It goes without saying that his sudden disappearance during our battle with the Serpopards has made his standing with the others shaky.

  I can’t blame them. We risked everything to win those fangs. It’s insulting for one of our party to show up, not a scratch on him, acting as if he didn’t know what happened. We tracked those monsters for two days. How could anyone not realize what was about to happen? Still, he missed the battle and showed up as if he were late for breakfast.

  Watching him leave, I cannot help feeling the slightest pang of regret. When he first appeared, saving us from the Orthrus, I believed that he would prove to be the most valuable member of our party. How did he put it? Zero is the main character of this story; his words from a month ago ring out in my mind as if he was shouting them into my ear right now. That hasn’t been the case. He’s acting like a limp arm, which happens to spasm whenever it wants. My nose scrunches up at that simile. It’s accurate, but I can’t say I like it. “Not much of a wordsmith,” I murmur to myself. Out of the eight of us, it’s safe to say he contributes the least. He doesn’t hunt, cook, strategize, or help with the setting up or breaking down of the camp. Why was he even here?

  He comes and goes as he pleases. Whenever food is available, he shows up to eat, but for the rest of the day, it’s impossible to say where he is. Even though we watched him spring away, for all we know, he could have looped around and is watching us from a nearby tree. We often ask ourselves what he’s doing while he’s away, but we are no closer to discovering that answer than we were a month ago. When he stops moving long enough to speak with us, he talks without listening to the others, so no one attempts to converse with him anymore. Whatever he does when he’s away is anyone’s guess. Perhaps he’s guarding the camp. It could be accurate to say that. I considered it, but why wouldn’t he help set up a watch with the rest of us? Our watch still takes place without him. What good could he be giving us?

  “He can stay, or he can go,” Maris chimes in for the first time this morning. Her voice doesn’t show the slightest signs of anger, remaining in her matter-of-fact cadence. “I don’t care either way.”

  Queen nods in agreement. “I’ll take it a step further,” she adds, clear anger on display. “Let’s lose him at the first chance we get. I say we pack up the camp and walk in the opposite direction. Who needs this guy anyway?” Glancing at Aurora, I expect her to disagree with our more spiteful companions, but I see no signs of it in her eyes. To have reached the end of Aurora’s patience is an accomplishment.

  “We can’t get rid of him,” David interrupts, going contrary to the current mood.

  “What?” G. exclaims. My eyes grow wide. The tones of their voice tell the story. G. agrees with the ladies while David does not. This is the first time that I’ve ever seen G. and David disagree in such a fashion.

  Queen folds her arms across her chest. “Tell me you’re joking.” She pauses, waiting for David to laugh and pretend that he misspoke, but it doesn’t come. This makes Queen sigh. “Okay, why do you think that moron should stay around?”

  Before answering, David looks at each of his detractors. He doesn’t bother looking at Harva. Everyone knows that Harva will agree with David at any opportunity. She idolizes him, hanging on to every word he says. If David said the sky was blue, she would listen. “Back when we first broke off from the rest of the caravan,” he answers. “I said that we needed a powerhouse.”

  His tone is firm and showing clear dismissal of anyone that could argue against him. Still, I cannot help but bring up a basic response to this. I know Zero’s strength, but there’s something I need to know. It would be better if I stayed out of it. This boat is rocking, and it’s only a matter of time before it tips over, I think to myself. If that line was my own, I would impress myself, but I stole it from G., a flowing fountain of phrasing.

  “Isn’t that what Maris is?” I interject. Heads turn in my direction, most approving while the main one that mattered only shook in disagreement. “Or what about G.?”

  “No, she’s more of a precision fighter with a magic ability,” David explains, still shaking his head. “Mr. G. is close, but his power lies in his critical attacks. Zero has more physical strength and speed than any of us. He crushed the Orthrus’s head under his feet while the rest of us had to create an elaborate plan to take down just one head.” That made everyone button their lips, even G. No matter how much some wanted to ignore it, Zero was far more powerful than any of us.

  That disappoints me the most. When I think about it for too long, I can’t help but lean back and become a little awestruck. There’s no doubt in my mind that if he became a true member of our group that every challenge we faced would be easier. With his incredible strength, what couldn’t we accomplish? Too bad we haven’t seen the slightest trace of him cooperating. My shoulders slump.

  “Still…” David adds, breaking the silence, “I find it hard to believe that anyone as strong as he is needs a group to accompany him.” That was another truth that none of us knew the answer to. That made everyone stay quiet. In our group, we would like to think of each other as equals, all working toward the same goal, contributing as much as we can, but Zero could outperform any of us. So it begs the question, why is he here in the first place?

  “Why are you trusting him?” Queen asks.

  “I don’t trust him,” David admits.
“He’s a needed addition, even if he isn’t welcome or welcoming, because we’ll need his strength. That’s all there is to it.” The opposition glance amongst themselves, as if deciding whether the strategist’s reasoning is sound. One by one, everyone nods, knowing what he referred to. Monsters were few. It was as if they vanished, which didn’t seem possible. These beasts supposedly were everywhere. Why else would the King send so many to destroy them?

  There was only one answer to the monster shortage, one we discussed before. More teams are out there. They could be ahead of us, out there destroying the monsters before we can face them. If this kept up, who knows if we’ll have enough Mementos to make our wishes come true. The very idea sent chills up my back. I can’t bear the thought of traveling so far and facing these challenges just to go home empty-handed.

  If another team was out there, and David was sure they were, it would only be a matter of time before we crossed their paths. “It’s inevitable,” David explains. “As monsters become scarce, those needing Mementos will find the ones with them and take them. As long as we have them, we risk future battles.” He chuckles to himself. “Some will try it, even if the odds against them are incredible. We can’t afford to take any chances. Defeat isn’t an option.” In time, we will find more monsters or face another team. Who knew when we would need to rely on Zero’s strength? That is if we can get him to show up for a fight. If someone wanted to, this argument could’ve gone on longer, but there were more important matters.

  “C’mon,” G. says, bringing the discussion to a close. “If we don’t get started, we’ll waste the day.”

  Queen bops her head. “Besides, we can’t allow our precious powerhouse to escape us, can we?” The pair look at one another and laugh. Whenever they have a unifying enemy, they could trick anyone into thinking they got along.

  “Wait,” Harva chimes in at last. “Who will carry the fangs?” An awkward silence falls. After the heated discussion we had, this isn’t a great topic to change to. Ever since we received the Memento from the Orthrus, we’ve struggled with who should carry it. There are seven of us, eight if you include Zero, that want to have a wish fulfilled, and all we need is a single Memento to make that happen. Since receiving the Orthrus’s Memento, I watched distrust sow its destructive seeds. A look here, and a slighted comment there. At the back of all our minds, the same question must repeat itself in our times of weakness. With one Memento among us, what is to stop someone from taking it and running off?

  I know that it’s horrible to consider, but a shadow of temptation falls on me on occasion, longing to take the split, red bone of the Orthrus and running away. The only thing that keeps me from acting on it is my loyalty. I promised Queen we’d stick together until our wishes come true. Though I didn’t make a verbal vow, that promise extends to the others. Still, I sometimes wonder if the others feel the same way.

  “You can’t carry another one,” Queen breaks the silence, pointing at G. “That bone is the only one you get.”

  Being our self-appointed leader, he took it upon himself to hold the Orthrus bone. Whenever I doubt his loyalty, I always think back to our conversation before the griffin battle. There’s no doubt that he plans to see this through to the end. At Queen’s statement, G. nods, “Fair enough, but we have two more Mementos now. Who should carry them?”

  “It’s simple,” Aurora interjects. “We were two teams at the beginning. The Mementos should divide between them to keep one group from getting all of them.”

  “That sounds fine,” G. agrees. “You and Queen should have them.” Everyone takes a moment and looks to see if anyone disagrees. No one does, which is a relief. We argued over that first Memento for so long that it made me want to scream. With that settled, we pack up, and before I knew it, we were wandering through the woods again. Our three chosen members have their trophies strapped to their backs for everyone to see. I can’t help but smile at it.

  G. takes the lead with David falling not too far behind him, with his face buried in the map. Harva follows the young man but is careful not to get too close. I hide a smile, realizing that I understand that awkwardness too well. With a glance to my side, I gaze at Aurora. She walks along with a steady determination, one that would not give away how weak she still is. I want to step next to her and let her lean against my shoulder, but there’s no way I could bring myself to do that. Might pass out from embarrassment. Sitting with her back on the train was almost too much.

  Queen prefers to walk along the outside of the group. As always, she likes her role as a distraction, that is when she gets to do it. During this last battle, I think I did more to distract those monsters than anyone else did. Looking over my shoulder, I spy Maris plunking along at the end of the line. A month ago, she was at David’s side, always listening to him discuss strategies, but it would seem that she lost interest in being part of David’s team.

  Over the last month, I would say a few things have changed in the overall structure of the team. David’s original intent for the team members to have certain roles in the battles doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. I don’t know if he’s abandoned that idea or is allowing everyone to grow into their own natural roles. It’s hard to say, and I doubt I want to ask him that at the moment. He wouldn’t have much interest in telling me.

  We walk along in silence. Our discussion of Zero is on everyone’s mind. “Hurry,” his voice echoes from the tree branches above. I glance up to catch sight of his shoe disappearing. “If you don’t keep up, you’ll never find the next monster.”

  “Please,” Queen groans. “Just leave me behind.” Harva and G. chuckle at this, but stop when Maris laughs. Glancing back, it’s hard to hide our surprise. I didn’t know that she could laugh, though I don’t know if I can call her low, gluteal chortle a laugh.

  We continue trudging along at the same pace. Every so often, we hear another cry from Zero to quicken our pace. We ignore him. G. always emphasizes the importance of maintaining a steady pace. Going too fast puts everyone at risk of tiring out before midday. This didn’t stop Zero from encouraging us to speed up. At one point, he hangs from a branch. “Hurry, Felix. You can’t let a single beast escape from you.”

  A whispered groan passes through our party as they hear him proclaim that monsters could be nearby for the fifteenth time today. Who knew how many times we heard it over the last few weeks? Since our battle with the Orthrus, we knew that it would be a matter of time until we found another one, but monsters were not lining up for us to fight. After traveling for so long, with no enemies in sight, it made us wonder if the beasts were in Raka, as King Aedan said.

  “The monsters are out there,” David assured everyone four nights ago, and proved correct by our encounter with the Serpopards. G. sat across from him and backed every word with solemn nods. “Few beasts stay in the same place for long. They are nomadic, trying to find the next best hunting ground, one where they will have less competition. It’s likely that they have spread out all across Raka, waiting for their chance to storm back into Sorin.”

  “That’s not even including the water beasts,” G. added. “They will not even show their faces on the shores unless the oceans run out of prey. Either way, we’re so far from the shore that we shouldn’t have to deal with them.”

  At noon, we stop for a quick break. I almost drop to my knees, but I let myself down slowly. With Aurora so close at hand, I don’t want to appear weak, but I don’t think I could keep walking for the time being. The long day marches and sparring with G. are taking their toll on me. I’ve noticed that the longer one sleeps, the more refreshed they are. It would benefit me to rest more often, if possible.

  Harva staggers over to me and plops down. She leans against my shoulder, a few strands of her hair brushing along the back of my neck. The poor girl groans. “I’m tired,” she whispers, her shoulders slumping. “Can’t we just stop for the day?”

  “If G. wants us to,” I reply. I grin, asking, “Maybe if you ask David, he’ll tell G. to
call it a day.”

  At once, she snaps into an upright position. Her little head spins around, and her brown skin radiates with a darker flush. “I could never,” she exclaims but never letting her voice rise above that whisper. “But I will if you can tell Aurora that you’d like to take a midnight stroll with her.”

  My jaw drops at this. One thing I’m noticing is that this child has a quicker wit than I gave her credit for. It would seem that just because she’s quiet doesn’t mean that she can’t have a sharp tongue. “You’ve been talking to Queen too much,” I retort. She smiles. “Besides,” I add. “What you are asking and what I asked aren’t equivalent.”

  She sighs. “Guess we’re both still at square one.” She turns around and leans against me again.

  “Guess so.” We sit like that for a time, while the others go through their midday routines. They would need us to pitch in soon, but why rush? I feel comfortable around Harva. She’s the only one of this group I don’t have to be my best around. Impressing Aurora is one of my chief desires, while avoiding the ridicule of the others is one of the lesser ones. Being a child, Harva doesn’t seem to care how I act. My shoulders slump, calmed by her simple presence. I’m not sure what that says about me. Perhaps I wasn’t much of a grownup in my old life, or maybe I have a child of my own. That idea scares me, though I’m not sure why.

  “You know,” I suggest. “We could always play a game while we walk. If we try finding as many unique animals as possible, it’ll help us focus on something else besides our aching feet; it might give us some time with our little love interests. What do you think?”

  She taps the side of her cheek, considering the possibility. At last, she shakes her head. “No,” she replies. “We’ve played that game too much.”

  “You’re right,” I agree. I wish I had some of my memories, at least the one that knew brilliant ways to pass the time. “Maybe we can try making up another game.”