LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  “Call it back.” His breath lingered on her cheek. If she stood on her tiptoes, she knew their lips would be even.

  “Here, Nerak!” She closed her eyes, remembering how she’d gotten the owl to come to her in the first place. “I’m going to let go of you, but just with one hand. Make sure you hang on to me, okay?” she asked Bastian.

  His grip tightened more. Tressa held her arm out to the side and attempted to mimic the hooting noise Nerak made. A flapping sound cut through the fog. Hope surged in Tressa’s chest, confirmed only when she felt the familiar pinch of talons on her hand.

  “I did it. She’s back.” Tressa bent her arm, bringing her hand closer to her body. The feathers brushed against her nose.

  “The light’s not back,” Bastian said. “We need that to find Connor.”

  “Well, she was on my shoulder the last time it happened. Maybe I should try that?” Tressa touched her hand to her shoulder and wiggled her fingers. The little owl’s talons shimmied from Tressa’s hand to her shoulder. The purple glow came back.

  “I think you’ve got a magic owl there. Let’s see if we can use this light to find Connor.” Bastian kept one arm snaked around her waist. They stood side-by-side, hips touching. “Which way should we go first?”

  A blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. Connor.

  “This way,” Tressa said, heading off in the direction of the cry.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THEY WANDERED THROUGH THE MIST, stumbling over their own feet. The light only gave shape to shadows in the darkness. Bastian held his sword out in front of them as a guide to keep them from running into trees. The screams had stopped as quickly as they’d come on, yet they pressed forward in the direction they’d believed to be right. Bastian was always sure of himself – except not now. The fog disoriented him more than he’d like to admit. For Tressa’s sake, he kept his mouth shut.

  A splash was followed by a squeal. Tressa pushed back into Bastian, stopping him before he got wet.

  “I think it’s a pond,” Tressa said. “Or maybe a stream. I can kind of see where it ends. Can you?”

  Bastian squinted. The purple haze helped, but it wasn’t as illuminating as daylight. “I think you’re right.” He took a step in front of Tressa, his hand still on her waist. “Hold on. What’s that?” Bastian bent over, picking something up from the ground.

  He turned it to the side. Hard edges crusted over with a dark powdery substance. He ran his fingers along the object. Leathery, bumpy, and slightly damp.

  “What is it?” Tressa strained to see the object. “Bastian?” She touched his shoulder.

  Apprehension bubbled up in his gut, churning like a volcano before an explosion as he ran his fingers over it. A hard surface, about the size of a bean, sat at the end of each of the five sticks.

  He tossed the object into the river.

  “What was it?”

  Bastian turned to her. He could feel his face reddening and was glad the light was too dim for Tressa to see him. His cheeks puffing with uneven, deep breaths. “A hand.”

  Tressa stumbled a step, but Bastian’s tight grip pulled her back to him.

  He clasped her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at him. “It wasn’t Connor.”

  She shook her head free. “How do you know? Are you sure?”

  A grim smile passed over his face. “I know Connor like he was my own brother. It was not his hand. I stake my life on it.” He gazed out over the little river, playing hide-and-seek with the fog. “But I don’t know whose it is or why it was along this riverbank. It was chewed at the wrist. I don’t know what broke the bone from the arm.”

  “On our side of the bank,” Tressa said in a whisper. “Please tell me there wasn’t any blood. That it wasn’t, um, newly bitten.”

  Bastian’s lips pressed together. “It wasn’t. We should keep moving.” He poked his sword into the water, measuring the depth. “It’s not deep. Let’s go.”

  “Hold on. We can’t cross this while still holding on to each other. It won’t work. Let me make a rope.” Tressa grabbed a few vines hanging over the riverbank. She wove them into a quick braid.

  Bastian tied one end around Tressa’s waist and the other around his.

  “Let’s go. I don’t want to stay in one place too long.” He took one more glance around them, pausing a moment as he looked over Tressa’s shoulder.

  “What? Do you see something?” Her voice was tinged with fear.

  “I can’t see anything. I just don’t trust it.” Bastian stepped into the water, first one careful foot than another. He motioned for Tressa to follow him.

  The water was cold, almost icy, enveloping his feet with a numbing wetness. Bastian tried to ignore it. The water slowly crept up her ankle to mid-calf. His breeches clung to his legs.

  Within a few minutes, the water began to recede down his leg. Bastian stepped out of the stream. He held out a hand to help Tressa out, but she didn’t take it, or pretended not to notice it, as she emerged from the water.

  “Now what?” she asked, bending over and wringing out the bottom of her breeches. “Should we try calling out for Connor again?”

  A rustling in the trees broke their conversation. Bastian held a hand up, and then put his finger to his lips. Tressa nodded. He waved his hand in front of her eyes, pointing frantically at the owl. Tressa covered Nerak’s eyes, still not sure exactly how to control the power the owl was lending her. She shrugged a few times. Maybe if they were no longer touching, the magic wouldn’t flow through her anymore.

  Nerak complied, hopping off her shoulder, snuggling back into her pack again.

  The light extinguished and mist surrounded them. Bastian reached down for the vine. With a sigh of relief, he realized it was still attached. They wouldn’t lose each other again.

  Bastian sunk down to the ground next to her, his arm circling her shoulders. His lips tickled her earlobe as he leaned in and whispered, “Something’s out there. I don’t know what. Maybe if we’re quiet, it won’t notice us in the fog.”

  “Unless it can see through it, while we can’t,” Tressa whispered back in his ear, careful not to touch him with her lips. Bastian’s arm only held her tighter in response.

  They sat still, hidden in the fog, their whispered breaths the only noise other than a faint sniffing sound. Tressa scooted closer to Bastian.

  Another crack. Then another. Another. All going away from them, getting quieter and farther away with each broken branch and cracked leaf.

  “Bring out the owl,” Bastian said. “We need to keep moving. If Connor hasn’t changed direction, we need to go the opposite way of whatever that was.”

  “It’s okay to come out now. Are you afraid too? It’s alright. It’s gone,” Tressa said to Nerak.

  Bastian heard the flapping of wings as the owl hopped up on Tressa’s shoulder. The world came alive again, bathed in that same unearthly purple haze.

  “We have to find Connor before that thing does,” Tressa said. She stood up next to Bastian. His sword was drawn, at the ready.

  “Then let’s go,” he said. They both tried to ignore the size of the footprints left by the beast. The indentations were large enough for the two of them to stand in together.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AFTER HOURS OF SEARCHING, TRESSA sat down on an old tree trunk. Its roots held it firmly in the ground even though the rest of it had died and fallen countless years ago. She rubbed her calves, trying to massage out the kinks after the hard day’s trek. Bastian sat on the ground next to her. He pulled off a boot and shook it over the ground. Pebbles and sticks tumbled out.

  “We can’t just keep wandering forever,” Tressa said. They hadn’t found any sign of Connor. No more broken branches on the ground and the screams had stopped hours ago. “We need a plan.”

  Bastian pulled a whetstone from his pack and ran it along his sword, sharpening it after a long day of using it to cut branches and vines. “Any suggestions?”

  Tressa
pursed her lips together. She didn’t have any idea what to do or where to go. “We can’t leave Connor behind. I mean, our goal is to get out of the village alive, find some kind of cure for the plague, and go back and help them. But Connor is our best friend.”

  “And he’s the one who believed in us most. He knew we’d find a way to succeed. He wouldn’t want us to waste any time, especially if it means getting back sooner. He was so worried about Hazel and the boys getting sick.” Bastian sat back against a rock, sheathing his sword. He rested his hands on his knees and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Connor would want us to go on without him. Find a way out.” Tressa said it in a whisper. The truth wasn’t something she wanted to admit out loud, but it had to be said. She could imagine Connor telling them just that. “But at the same time, he’d never leave one of us behind.”

  “And that’s why we won’t stop looking for him.” Bastian stared into her eyes.

  The purple haze must have been disconcerting. Tressa could only imagine how she looked - possessed, unnatural.

  “I’m glad we agree.” Relieved, she relaxed a little. The last thing she wanted was to leave Connor behind, but making the decision to put the village at risk while they searched for their friend wasn’t an easy one. She and Bastian needed to agree on this and they both knew it. “But how do we find him?”

  Bastian pointed at Nerak. “Can she see in the dark like you?”

  Tressa looked at the little owl, sleeping soundly on her shoulder. She stroked the feathers, waking her up gently. Her tiny eyelids flipped open and Nerak cocked her head to the side. “Can you help us find our friend Connor? Can you fly through the fog and help us figure out which way to go?”

  Scared.

  She buried her head in Tressa’s shoulder, turning her head to peek at Bastian.

  “Please, will you help us?” he asked.

  Tressa’s eyes grew wide. “Can you hear her too?”

  Bastian face scrunched up. “Hear her? No, she’s obviously afraid. I can tell by her body language. Can you communicate with her somehow?”

  Tressa nodded. It might be odd, but it was the only chance they had. “I can hear words in my mind. Just pieces of thoughts, but she’s definitely worried.” She stroked Nerak’s head, scratching her lightly with dirty fingernails. Tressa could only imagine what the rest of her body looked like based on the filth she’d managed to pick up. Bastian looked the same as he always did - a little messy, sweaty, and tired.

  “Hey you,” Bastian tapped Nerak lightly on the head. “We need your help to find our friend. The sooner we get him, the sooner we get out of this foggy mess. All I need you to do is fly around a bit. Use your little purple glow to guide yourself.”

  “How will she find us again?” Tressa asked, worried. She knew it was a good plan, but she didn’t want Nerak giving up her life for them either. If she got lost, or never found her way back, Tressa wouldn’t forgive herself. It felt like sending a child out to do an adult’s job. “Could you fly away and come back to us?”

  Nerak tilted her head to the other side. See. Fly. Find. And after a pause, Afraid.

  “I know,” Tressa cooed, “we’re afraid too. You don’t have to do this. It’s not your battle.”

  The owl’s eyes snapped open even wider, taking up the bulk of her snowy face. War. Coming. Save.

  Her wings flitted out and Nerak took off in flight, leaving Tressa and Bastian hidden in the fog again. Tressa ran her hands around her waist, looking for the vine that connected her and Bastian. Hand over hand, she inched closer to him, not wanting to feel so alone in the enveloping mist. Her hand touched his waist and she left it there for only a moment until she slipped her hand into his.

  “She’ll come back, won’t she?” Uncertainty laced Bastian’s words.

  Tressa smiled a little, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see her. A man of action was giving over control to a tiny bird he’d just met. If the situation weren’t so dire, Tressa would have laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. “I want to believe she will.” She held back the words Nerak had whispered in her mind. War. As if they didn’t have enough problems already.

  “We should try to get some sleep while she’s gone. In this damn fog I can’t even tell what time of day it is.” He scooted a little closer to her, shoving a piece of fabric in her hand. “It’s my extra shirt. You can put it under your head so it’s not on the ground.”

  Tressa held it up to her nose, inhaling Bastian’s scent. Memories flooded her mind and her body, reminding her of the short time they’d had together. She didn’t think he knew, but on their last day together, she’d stolen one of his shirts and kept it hidden in her cottage. She never washed it and on days when she would need consoling, she would hold it to her face and remember what it felt like to be his. To be safe. To be loved.

  Tressa shoved it back at him, unable to let those memories overwhelm her. “I brought my own stuff. It’s okay. You use it.” She slipped her hand into her pack, pulling out a wadded up cloak. It worked just as well as a blanket, with the hood serving as a pillow.

  Tressa lay down on the ground, wrapping the scratchy wool around her body and plumping up the hood for a makeshift pillow. She stretched out, flexing her toes to give her calves a little stretch before falling asleep. They’d done a lot of walking, far more than she was used to, and she didn’t want to wake up sore.

  Bastian lay next to her, not touching, but she could feel and hear him breathing. The vine connecting them gave them feet of slack, but he didn’t move away from her.

  Tressa was glad. She wanted him close. The fog was too disconcerting, too frightening, and she wanted to wake up with Bastian within arm’s reach. Exhaustion overtook her fast, sending her off into a sleep filled with nightmares.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  AWAKEN. FIND. HURRY.

  TRESSA’S EYES snapped open. The world came aglow in a violet haze as Nerak sat on her shoulder. She reached out for Bastian, and was surprised to find he was holding her hand, their fingers laced together. She slipped hers out before shaking him lightly on the shoulder.

  “Bastian, wake up. Nerak found Connor.”

  He sprang to his feet, as if he’d been ready for an attack, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Pack up. Let’s get moving.”

  Nerak bobbed her head in agreement.

  Wiggling out of her cloak, Tressa got all of her things together, shoved them in her pack, and stood up. “Is he close?”

  Nerak bobbed her head again.

  “Have we been asleep long?” she asked the little owl.

  Nerak’s head spun around, until her eyes were upside down.

  “I’m not sure she understands that question,” Bastian said, laughing. “It’s impossible to know without any sun. Are you sure you feel rested enough to move on?”

  Tressa stretched her legs, jumping lightly on her toes. A small cramp stabbed her calf, but she ignored it. “I’m fine. It’s most important to find Connor. The faster we go, the faster we’re all reunited. Can you show us the way?” she asked Nerak.

  The owl bobbed her head, then flew off Tressa’s shoulder. “Can you see her? I can’t.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Nerak!”

  A familiar scratch gnawed at her shoulder, then the glow returned. “How will we do this?” She wasn’t sure if she was asking the owl or Bastian.

  Feel. Follow. Find.

  Nerak poked her in the shoulder with her left claw, waited a few seconds then poked again.

  Tressa turned to the left. “Is this what you’re saying?”

  Feel. Follow. Find.

  So she did. For a countless time, she followed every nudge of Nerak’s claw into her shoulder until she heard a light moaning ahead.

  “Connor!” Tressa shouted. He lay on the ground, covered in leaves and branches, but his sandy hair stood out in the hazy glow of her magic. She ran to him, refusing to be quiet, not caring that they were probably being hunted. All that mattered
was they’d found Connor thanks to Nerak.

  She slid down on the ground, landing in the muddy leaves next to him. Tressa brushed his hair back from his forehead. Cool, which meant he wasn’t ill and didn’t have the plague. His chest moved softly, but slowly, up and down in measured breaths. “He’s alive,” she whispered over her shoulder to Bastian.

  He sank down next to her, pushing leaves and sticks off of Connor. “Come on, buddy. We have to get you out of here.”

  Tressa grabbed Bastian’s chin, forcing him to face her. “Where are we going to take him? It’s not like we have a safe place to hide.”

  “Your owl’s going to get us out of here, just like she led us to Connor.” He pointed at Nerak.

  “Do you know the way out?” Tressa asked her.

  Nerak bobbed her head.

  Close. Death. End.

  “She says it’s close,” Tressa said, not looking Bastian in the eye. Even if death awaited them, it was better than living in fear in the fog. Any human enemy had to be better than the one she couldn’t see out here in the forest. She turned back to Connor. “He’s not waking up. But he’s alive. Can you carry him?”

  Bastian nodded, scooping Connor up in his arms. His legs dangled in the air, and his head cradled on Bastian’s shoulder like a baby. The loamy scent of moss lingered around him.

  “Let’s go,” Bastian said, his voice hard. “Tell your owl to get us out of here.”

  “Ready, Nerak?” Tressa asked her. The little owl quaked, sending a light vibration down to Tressa’s shoulder.

  Death. War. Blood.

  “Okay, let’s go.” She ruffled Nerak’s feathers to let her know she cared, but they couldn’t stop now. Staying in the fog wasn’t an option. The only way out was through.

  Nerak paused for a few moments, then squeezed Tressa’s shoulder with her right talon.

  “To the right,” Tressa told Bastian. He was already sweating with the exertion of carrying his best friend. Bastian’s muscles bulged, straining against Connor’s limp body.