The Place We Do Not Go: A Wanderer's Tale Companion Story (The Companion Stories Book 1)

by Foote, Rex

  The Place We Do Not Go

  Written by Rex Foote

  Text Copyright © 2017 Rex Foote

  All Rights Reserved

  Author’s Foreword

  Welcome to the first of The Companion Short Stories.

  The basic idea behind these is to serve as additional material to the main stories, to wrap up loose threads and to expand upon concepts introduced in the main stories. As the Companion story to The Wanderer’s Tale: Esmor, it is highly recommended that you follow the reading order below.

  The Wanderer’s Tale: Esmor

  The Place We Do Not Go*

  *Companion Short Story

  Pain exploded in his stomach, and he went flying backwards. Expecting to impact on solid ground, he tensed his back, and was surprised when he kept falling. Suddenly his surroundings went dark, and he saw the sky disappearing through an opening in a rapidly retreating ceiling. Realizing what was happening, he desperately began to Draw the energy needed for a spell before he struck the ground.

  ***

  It was dark by the time Vulmer woke. He came to and found himself sprawled on his back amid scattered debris. As he lay there, memory returned to him. He had been standing over what he had thought was an incapacitated Ohruin, preparing to finish her off. Then, the brute had kicked him in the stomach, and he had fallen into darkness. He gingerly felt around, trying to determine if anything was broken, and was relieved to find that he was only bruised from his fall. He stood slowly, grimacing at the pain from his back, and looked around. He was in a dark cave, the only light coming from the hole in the ceiling he had fallen through. Looking through that hole, he could just make out the silver dots of stars in the night sky. While the darkness may have been an issue for a Human, or even another Elreni, Vulmer had been one with an Okryd Tree. The tree had blessed him with vines that sprouted from his empty eye sockets; the vines were covered in many nodules and buds that worked to give him eyesight far better than that of any normal Elreni. So, it was with no difficulty that he was able to find the two tunnels that led from the cave, set into opposite walls. He stood there for some time, considering his options. He knew he had fallen into that place that the other races called the Skittering Dark. He also knew they feared this place greatly, but it was a fear that the Elreni did not share. His people had had very little contact with its so-called “Denizens,” nor had they much reason to enter its depths. Glancing one last time at the opening above, he ruled out being able to reach it using magic; the amount of energy it would take to reach that opening would leave him sorely drained, and in bad shape to survive a night out in the wilds of Esmor. Sighing, he brushed the dirt from his clothes, chose a tunnel, and headed off down it. He would just have to walk out.

  ***

  He had been walking for quite some time when he found the girl. The tunnel he had been following opened up into a small cave, and sitting in the middle of this cave was a small Elreni girl with long brown hair and dressed in a simple, dark brown robe.

  It took him several moments to take in what he saw, while the girl regarded him with big, scared eyes before he said, “Hello?”

  She just stared back at him, legs hugged to her chest. Coming a bit closer, he held out a hand to her.

  “What’s your name?”

  Nothing, just that same gaze, so filled with fear it made him feel for the girl. He came closer.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  He stopped a few paces before her, hand held out. Slowly, she got up, came over to him, and hugged his leg.

  “Can you help me?” she asked in a small and painfully frightened voice. He gently pushed her away from his leg and crouched before her.

  “Yes, I can.”

  She gave a faint nod to this. “My mummy and me got lost down here, and then we got attacked by some monsters, and I don’t know where she is. Can you help me find her and get us out of here?” she asked, her voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion.

  Hardly one to leave a child alone in the dark, he said, “Yes, I can help you find your mother. And I will get you both out of here. Do you think you can show me where you last saw her?”

  Once more, the girl nodded. He let her go and stood; she took his hand the instant he had straightened and pointed down a tunnel.

  “It was this way.”

  Vulmer gave her a reassuring smile and led the way in the direction she had pointed, while she followed a few steps behind with his hand tightly held in hers.

  ***

  As they set off, Vulmer’s thoughts turned back to Arboreal, and the friends and family that waited for him there. Though old by Human standards, Vulmer was considered young among the Elreni, being only eighty years of age. Despite his youth, he was an accomplished Feyweaver, a Mage among his people. Being both young and skilled had gained him the attention of the Presk Okryd; the ruler of Arboreal, and of all the Elreni and the Okryd Trees that dwelt on Unith. He had been offered the chance to join Alvan Okryd, a select group of talented Elreni, who served as the Presk Okyrd’s most trusted agents. He had been in Caladaria under orders to investigate the ruins in the north of Esmor, and had been looking through the guild’s reports on the ruins when he had been unexpectedly barred from the guild. As luck would have it, the Envoy Taegen Ulaneiros had asked for his help the day afterwards, and so he’d agreed to help. Now, as he walked the tunnels of the Skittering Dark, his mind turned to his pregnant wife, and the child that would soon be born to him. Subconsciously, he squeezed the girl’s hand, still held in his, earning him an unseen smile of gratitude from the frightened child. Lost in memories, Vulmer looked ahead to the day he would return home. These thoughts kept him company more than the child as the pair walked through the darkness.

  ***

  After what seemed like hours, the tunnel they were walking down forked in two directions. Vulmer paused, the girl coming to clutch at the back of his shirt behind him, as he examined both paths. From where he stood, he could see very little of either passage, as both turned off at sharp angles.

  He turned and, crouching down to the girl’s level, said, “Wait here, I am going to check those tunnels.” At this, the small girl grabbed at his arm. Gently prying her grasp loose, he said, “I won’t be far. If anything happens, run down the tunnel I walked down, I will hear you and come for you. Don’t worry, we will be alright.”

  She gave him a shaky nod, while he returned his most reassuring smile. Then he rose, chose a tunnel, and set off down it. After several minutes of walking down the tunnel and encountering nothing, he was convinced that it was safe to proceed and turned to go back. As neared the tunnel’s mouth, he frowned. He should have been able to see the opening to the juncture, but instead all he saw was solid darkness. He picked up his pace, and as he drew near, he saw that what he had assumed to be soild darkness was instead solid rock. He paused in front of this new wall that now blocked his way, utterly puzzled by its appearance. Slowly, he checked where the wall met the floor, ceiling, and other walls. Each time, the join between the rock of the existing walls and this new one was seamless. It was as if this wall had always been here, yet that was impossible, since he had entered this passage via the opening that this rock now blocked. He quickly cast a simple spell, and gazed upon the rock with Mage Sight, his vision now able to pick up any hint of magic. But much to his growing dismay, there was nothing—the rock was just ordinary, unremarkable stone.

  “Except that it appeared less than a minute ago,” he murmured to himself. Though he wouldn’t have admitt
ed it to anyone, this unnerved him, and the sound of a voice, even his own, comforted him. Then his thoughts jumped to the girl, now all alone in this dark, empty place with a solid wall of stone between them.

  “Hello!” he shouted, then immediately pressed an ear to the rock. Nothing could be heard. “The roots take it,” he cursed. She must have wandered off, or just couldn’t hear him. He briefly considered blasting the rock apart with magic, but dismissed the thought. Who knew how much energy that would take, and he would need it later.

  “Well,” he sighed, and turned back the way he had been heading, “guess there is only one way to go.”

  And with that, he set off back down the tunnel.

  ***

  He didn’t get very far before fatigue caught up with him. He had just exited the passage into a small, damp opening when a wave of weariness swept over him. Though it was nothing he couldn’t manage, he felt that it was as good a time as any to rest. After all, the passage he had just exited was only able to be entered from one direction, and he could place adequate wards to keep him safe at the entrance. He turned and headed a short distance back up the tunnel. Finding a little nook in the wall that wasn’t too rough, he cast three wards. One would generate a deep sense of unease in anything that drew close to it. Another would alert him if anything made it to the entrance of his tunnel. The last one would serve as a more direct deterrence for anything that made it too close to him. With the wards set, Vulmer settled into the nook and tried to sleep.

  Much to his disappointment, sleep did not come quickly. Ahead, in the small, damp cave, he could hear the sound of water dripping and trickling over stone. Although this would generally not have hindered his sleep in the slightest, this time it did. There was something about how the two sounds merged that seemed off to the Feyweaver. Absently, he focused on the noise and heard something that was not water on stone. Instead, where the innocent enough noise had been was now the sound of chains. Two, maybe more lengths of chain being slowly dragged across a soft surface, accompanied by the rhythmic footsteps of the one who dragged them. Vulmer sat up and shook his head, and heard water on rock once more.

  “It’s this place,” he said under his breath. “Reminds me of a Human jail.” He had King Samson of Esmor to thank for the comparison. For some reason, the man had insisted on showing him his dungeons when he had first come to Caladaria, the trees alone knew why.

  “Probably trying to impress me.” He snorted at the thought, then drew part of his robe over his head. The silence that followed was bliss, and Vulmer felt the protective casings that covered the nodules and buds of his tree-gifted eyes close, and he let himself fall…

  “Chains in the dark.”

  Vulmer shot up, yanking the robes from about his head. It had sounded like those words had been spoken right by his ear, and in a low, grating voice, like chain being dragged over—

  “NO.”

  The word was spoken out loud, but it was more meant for himself. No, this chain nonsense must stop, he thought savagely as he drew his robes back down into place. Maybe sleep wasn’t such a good idea after all. He looked down at the faintly illuminated lines of his wards. A pity about those; they had cost him. Maybe when he found somewhere safer to rest, he would find food, and water as well. Now firm in the conclusion that this was not a good place to sleep, Vulmer walked back into the small cave.

  “Who knows. Maybe I can find something to eat or drink in there.”

  ***

  Much to his disgust, Vulmer found both. His brief glance about the cave the first time had not revealed the pale grub-like things that swam sluggishly through small pools in the cave’s uneven floor. Each one was about the same size and shape as his thumb. Vulmer removed one from its pool to watch it writhe about slowly in his grasp. As he watched the repulsive thing move, he weighed his options. For starters, the wards had not drained him too badly, and even taking into account the drain from the spells he had cast before falling down here, he wasn’t spent. That being said, he was starting to feel the effects of the drain, as well as hunger and thirst. However, he had no idea if the thing he now held between two fingers was even edible. Maybe it would poison him; perhaps it would make him sick. At the very least, it wouldn’t taste very good. Then again, who knew how long it would be until he found anything remotely like food down here. Most of his experience of the Skittering Dark up until this point had been long, dark, dusty tunnels of stone. He pushed away the thought. He knew what he had to do and was just delaying the inevitable. His decision came down to the fact that here was something alive, and he had no idea when he would find something like that again. Closing the sheaths over what passed for his eyes, he quickly threw the writhing thing into his mouth and bit into it. Surprisingly, he did not immediately gag or spit it out. Though it tasted like sour mud, he found that he could stomach the taste, and after swallowing, he found that he could keep it down. He ate two more of the grubs, then spat to clear his mouth of a thick goo that he assumed had been the thing’s blood. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he crouched down by one of the small pools of water, cupped his hands, and drank. The water didn’t taste bad—a bit gritty, but otherwise fine. Regaining his feet, Vulmer started to feel better; the small, unusual meal had lifted his spirits. And so, he picked one of the many tunnels that led off from the cave and headed down it.

  ***

  At first, the way he had chosen had started off much like the cave he had left. Water dripped from the walls and ceiling, and though he found himself getting wet, he didn’t mind. In fact, he found it somewhat refreshing. When the first grub fell on him, he changed his mind. Unlike their smaller counterparts, these grubs had the same size and shape as his forearm, and so shocked was he when it fell on him that Vulmer leapt straight back into one of the walls. His puzzlement at not coming into contact with uneven stone soon gave way to revulsion, as a quick check revealed that he had impacted against several of the larger grubs, crushing them. Now his back had patches of thick, green goo streaking down his robes. Taking several deep breaths, he peered up the way he was heading. Though at first the grubs weren’t that many, he could see that further down the tunnel they became much thicker, until they hung from the ceiling, and walls, in an unbroken carpet. He considered going back the way he had come, not relishing the walk that lay ahead. He turned back to the wall he had jumped against and examined one of the crushed grubs. After looking closely, he could see nothing on the thing that could do him harm. Indeed, it seemed like the worst they could do was give him a fright.

  “It’s not like they could kill you,” he said, louder than was necessary. “It’s just going to be…unpleasant.”

  And with that, he squared his shoulders and walked on.

  ***

  As it turned out, unpleasant was an understatement. Though it had taken no more than five minutes, to Vulmer it felt like hours. Hours of having pale, cold, slimy bodies fall all over his head and shoulders, and water soak through his robes. At one point, one of the grubs fell in such a way that it landed across the front of his face, where it immediately coiled around his head. Almost screaming in revulsion, Vulmer tore the thing from his face, threw it to the ground, and obliterated it with a hasty spell, after which he picked up his pace. By the time he exited the tunnel, he was shivering from more than just cold. The tunnel opened out into a far wider, and far higher, area that went on into the darkness and past the range of his vision. Vulmer didn’t care much; as soon as water was no longer dripping on him and it had been some time since a writhing body had fallen onto him, he collapsed. He lay there in the dust and rock, shivering at the memory of those things as they squirmed and coiled about him. Eventually, Vulmer pushed the memories away and was able to stop shivering. Climbing unsteadily to his feet and brushing at dust that covered him and his clothes, he looked about himself. The entrance to the tunnel he had exited was set in the base of a towering wall of rough-hewn rock that extended up past his sight into blackness. A quick glance to his left and
right revealed the same sight, and he could only barely make out the other side of this vast passage. His mind grasped for comparisons, and the closest he came to was the halls of the Sarven, where the Hold Gelt, the ruler of the hold, would conduct the task of rulership. Resting his gaze on the far wall, he considered his options. Going back was not an option, and the mere thought brought out a faint shiver. He had to pick a direction and hope it led somewhere. And so Vulmer turned to his left and set off.

  ***

  Vulmer tried to do everything possible to distract himself from his surroundings. He thought of home, and his wife; of Arboreal and the Presk Okryd. Of the Kuddin Woods, and of the First Warden of the Kuddin, Orym Ulajor. Yet despite this, he could not ignore the feel of the place he walked. The long, vast passage he walked down unnerved him. Each step he took disturbed a thick carpet of dust that rose about him, and the place seemed to devour sound. At one point, succumbing to a curiosity-induced urge he had been desperate to deny, he picked up a small rock and threw it directly ahead. He had deliberately not thrown the rock far, and so felt his unease grow when he only heard the faintest sound of rock striking rock. Setting off again, Vulmer started to wish for the passage he had left, its dripping water and pale grubs a welcome break from the dark and the dust, the quiet, the unbroken—

  “Stop,” Vulmer ordered himself, in a half shout that was quickly smothered by the silence. “I have to get out of here,” he muttered.

  As he walked, a small and entirely unwelcome voice at the back of his mind brought notice to an unpleasant fact. Before being cast down here, he would never have spoken to himself. In fact, he had always prided himself on how useful he found his internal monologue. He had sneered at those who had spoken, murmured, and muttered to themselves, seeing them as less stable than himself. Yet after what felt like less than a day down here, he was doing just that, and to such a degree that if he were to behave like this anywhere else, people would surely think him mad.