by Will Bly
“Farah broke someone’s jaw? Farah did?”
Farah crossed her arms in defiance. “Why? You think I’m not capable?”
“I—I don’t know what to think anymore.” He sat, dejected.
“What’s the matter?” The smile ran from her face.
“Nothing—long day. I had to kill Comcka. Max has got himself a lass, it seems.”
“What was that?”
“Max got himself—”
“Not that. The other thing.”
“I had to kill Comcka.”
Kay leaned in. “As in Northforge Comcka? The one that we, uh, falsely investigated?”
Farah continued, “Fought the battle against the Mountain Folk?”
“Yes, Northforge Comcka. Turns out his side prevailed at first, but he was betrayed by some of his men—a coup of sorts. He thought we had something to do with it.”
“More likely that necromancer we offed,” Kay said, stretching.
“It turns out he’d been grinding an axe for some time, finding out about me, where I lived, and waited for me to return to home.”
Farah got up, walked to him, and leaned in close. “But what about your... condition? Did you use magic?”
“Oh, well, you might say Max actually killed him. Death by a hundred ravens.”
Farah cocked her eyebrows in confusion. “I’d ask what that means, but somehow I think I don’t even want to know.”
“I’d like to know,” Leofrick interjected.
“Shut up,” silenced Kay.
“Wasn’t pretty. Tough to watch. But he wouldn’t stop coming. In the end, with the help of Max, I didn’t have to harm him with magic. It was him or me, though. He made that plain enough.”
“What happens then,” Leofrick asked, “when you harm someone with magic?”
Irulen scowled at the scoundrel who grated his nerves. “Would you like to find out?”
Leofrick withdrew. “I guess I don’t need to, really. But thank you for the malevolent context.”
Kay’s eyes darted around. “We can’t stay here. We need to make tracks. I don’t think we should stop in the next town, either. Don’t know what sort of relationship the locals have with each other. I’m tired and really don’t want to spend the effort breaking more bones.”
“We don’t have much in the way of rations,” Farah chimed. “But enough to get us by on hungry bellies for a few days.”
“Last thing I want is more violence,” Irulen said as he surveyed the area and stretched his legs. “Best we go wrestle the hard way ahead.”
◆◆◆
For the first time in a while, Quinn felt like the world was right, the sun was warm, and he was in the company of a friend that he could trust with anything.
The cart came to a stop.
Merlane gazed up into the sky smiling whimsically, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The old man’s head turned slowly toward him, accompanied by a smile that he had never seen before. It was a smile of both certainty and irony.
“My long-time friend,” Merlane said. “It’s time.”
“For what?” Quinn asked, fully fearing the answer.
“He’s caught up. He found our trail a while ago, I believe, but he’s close now.”
“Ithial—that scumsucker.”
“It’s just his part to play in all this. Don’t blame him so much.”
“I won’t blame that dark scum, maybe. I won’t forgive him, either. And I hope no one blames me when I smash his face in with my fist! Feel his jaw crumble against my knuckles. The slime and fleshy feel of his tongue as I grab it in my fist and tear it out.” Quinn’s face grew hot.
Merlane laughed. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect any less from you. And what about Irulen?”
“What about him?”
“You will need to forgive him.”
Quinn caught what he was about to say and stifled it. He wasn’t sure what words he had just prevented, but he knew he didn’t want to upset the old man. He, instead, looked around the vacant woods and took a moment of reflection. As silent as they seemed, something wasn’t right, like some kind of thin darkness outlined the trees. In his heart, Quinn knew things would never be the same. He’d never have himself back, not fully.
“Now’s the time, Quinn. Time to let go or hold on.” Merlane hopped down off the cart.
“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, his brain swirling with confusion.
Merlane walked to Suzy and put his hands on her muzzle. He leaned in and whispered something to which the mule snorted and shook her head.
The moment tugged at Quinn’s heart.
The old man smiled as he rifled through the supplies in his cart. He pulled out the fiddle and tossed it to Quinn.
He fumbled it, but ultimately kept it from hitting the ground.
Merlane nodded, then continued pulling his other stuff apart. He came out with a grin almost larger than his wide-brimmed hat. A large tube device with a wooden handle lay across his hands.
“What is that?”
“A blunderbuss. Not all magic comes from within. Nature provides its own wonders, and men do make their wonders using the wonders of nature. I have many devices like this.”
“What’s it do?”
“Propels little things to destroy larger things.” Merlane leaned the blunderbuss against the cart and fished out a small, wooden barrel. He uncorked the barrel and poured black powder into the tube. After a quick moment, the merchant quit pouring and shook the apparatus, then tapped it. “There, nice and even.” He then dumped a small bag of pebbles on top of it all.
He pulled out four other blunderbusses of varying sizes and asked Quinn to repeat the process. “Just, don’t put too much in!” the old man said as he carried armfuls of supplies into the woods. Quinn buried his curiosity and set to the task at hand. He watched the black powder flow into the darkness of each tube. He had just finished dropping the pebbles into the last blunderbuss when Merlane returned with a smile across his face as free as his hands.
“What did you do out there? Where’s all the stuff you just had?”
“Set a surprise. Or rather a set of surprises.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No. I might have seen an anything, however.”
“You and your damned riddles.”
Merlane laughed. “The nature of the world is the riddle, my friend. Riddles layered on riddles provide the foundation of everything we know and everything we’ll become.”
“Gah! Cut it out already!” Quinn couldn’t help but grin. “But can’t I help?”
“You can help, but not now. Today is my day. I’m done being old—it weighs heavy on the bones and heavier on the mind.”
“Nonsense! You just spent the last few days feeding me porridge about the bright things in life. Now you are packing it in?”
“I’m not saying I’m going to die. I’m not looking for death. But I have to slow Ithial down. If not for your sake, for Suzy’s, because you are going to take my mule and cart to Irulen and the others. It’s full of supplies that will help you. All sorts of interesting things. I’ll stay here and ambush Ithial, and whatever other foul creatures he drags through these woods. I saw something scouting us before, it had lizard-eyes and the hands of a human. He’s careful, though. They’ll be on us by nightfall. I can hold them off and give you a head start.”
“How can you expect me to leave you like this? You know about Aldo. About how I let him down, and he drowned because of me. How could I leave you? Knowing I could’ve done something different?”
“You can’t do anything different now, and you couldn’t have done anything different then. We act to our nature and that’s that. We only learn consequence once we’ve experienced it. You were innocent when you sold Aldo on your heroic vision. And you are innocent now—there’s no saving this situation. You need to keep your eyes on the end game which is soon in its coming. Sooner than you realize.”
Merlane brought out another bag
from the cart. “There, this is all I need. Some food.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a carrot as he walked to his loyal mule. Suzy blew breath against her master as she pushed her head into his chest. Merlane brought her close and whispered into her ear. Quinn doubted the mule understood the man, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Okay.” Merlane patted the mule’s neck. “It’s time, then, for you to go.”
Quinn shook his head and clasped arms with the man. “You’ve always driven hard bargains, merchant.”
“You are fairly shrewd yourself,” he said as he walked away back down the path from which they came. “Shrewder than you give yourself credit for.”
Quinn pulled himself up on the cart and took Merlane’s seat. He took up the reins and gave them a gentle whip. Suzy walked on, a little haphazardly and clumsy though, kicking rocks and not quite lifting her hooves as high as she ought to. But that’s a big part of life, isn’t it, Suzy? Carrying on and dragging the weight of everything else that’s happened.
Quinn turned and watched Merlane as the cart jostled away. His vision rocked back and forth as he regarded the old man. Maybe this is how we really see each other. A shaky vision of a person who we think we know and who we could’ve known better. The path bent and Merlane left his sight. Quinn turned his attention forward to the challenges that lay ahead. Maybe he’s gone, but he existed. A good man. He’ll always exist as long as I exist. Although, he admitted to himself, I don’t know how long that might end up being.
Chapter 16: Luthbrook
For the first time in ages, Irulen entered a town without being challenged. There were no checkpoints, no guarded walls, and the people welcomed the group with open arms. Their closest experience, perhaps, had been the visit to Snowillow Pass, but then, of course, they had to pass the scrutiny of Thea’s father, Terrowin. I wonder if his name was supposed to be Terrorwin? Intense, fiery little fellow, but amenable enough once we got to know him.
No one in the party seemed comfortable with the warm welcome. Merek even looked around, where he usually just fixated on the ground while they walked. The townsfolk were all smiles and waves, doors and windows opened instead of shutting, and children played around the strangers instead of running from them.
As if reading Irulen’s own thoughts, Leofrick spoke through a smile, “These poor people, they have no idea what happens to towns like this one when we come thro—umph.”
Kay silenced the scoundrel with an elbow to the ribs.
“Not this time,” Farah said as she grabbed Merek’s hand and led him onward. She skipped forward, basking in the warmth of their reception. Irulen fought the urge to call her back. He wanted to believe in her kind of world, the kind of world she refused to give up on, but it seemed an impossible task. Her ongoing gullibility baffled him. Not like she hadn’t been through her share of trials and tribulations during their travels together. But she kept on with her smiles and optimism. Weakness… or strength? Avoiding or not caring? A bit of everything?
Kay laughed coolly. “That girl sees a lake in a desert.”
“I think she could make a lake out of a desert through sheer will of spirit,” emphasized Irulen. “Or maybe it’s just a form of stubbornness?” He wondered aloud.
Leofrick chimed in, “She is a lake in a desert, pretty girl like that.”
Kay rolled her eyes and groaned. “You are a shit poet.”
Leofrick brought a hand to his chest, feigning injury. “You wound me, lady!”
“Heads up,” Irulen said, noticing a pair of villagers coming to greet them. The couple looked similar; on the shorter side and with a touch of extra padding. They wore jovial smiles and dark-red clothes. Their appearance and the proximity between them told Irulen that, despite their generally-young appearance, about mid-twenties or so in age, they were likely married and had been for some time. Perhaps they were even older than they first appeared.
The female quickly confirmed Irulen’s suspicion, flashing a polished ring in a wave hello while calling out to the newcomers, “Greetings, travelers! I am Mirtha, and this is my husband, Bertrand.” The husband bowed slightly, and the wife continued, “Welcome to Luthbrook, are you the traveling troupe?”
“Excuse me?” Irulen asked.
“Traveling performers, are you the ones we are expecting?”
What would give them that impression? “No, we regretfully are not, although my friend Kay here is quite good at dancing.” Irulen smirked at the thought of Kay dancing. He’d never seen it, and he doubted he ever would.
Mirtha pursed her lips in slight disappointment and then smiled again. “Well, that’s mighty fine, it is all the better to have more people to share the night’s celebration!”
Leofrick perked up and flashed a wide, toothy smile. “Celebration?”
Mirtha fed off the interest, clapping her hands together. “Why yes, we’re pitching a bonfire tonight!”
Irulen laughed on the inside, a bonfire, really? Just what I’d love to see right now. Exactly how I want to spend my time. He rued the irony in silence.
“What for?” Kay asked as she reached up behind her head to fix her bun of tightly-pulled, raven-black hair.
She looks good with her hair up, Irulen concluded. She should do that more often.
Mirtha looked to her husband to explain, and he obliged. “The apple!” He threw his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’re celebrating the apple, and the sweetness and fertility it represents!”
Irulen cocked an eye at Kay, who cocked an eye back at him. They shrugged at the same time.
“Will there be food?” asked Kay.
“Certainly!” A feminine voice rang.
“Sounds good to me.”
A newcomer approached—a woman near Irulen’s age, her blue eyes dominating brown hair that hung loose and long. She wasn’t quite as short as Farah nor quite as tall as Kay. What most caught Irulen’s attention, however, was her dress. It was darkish red like the others, but cut off at her knees where Mirtha’s skirt floated gently just above the ground.
Irulen snapped out of it, realizing Kay regarded him with disdain. Just how long did my eyes linger? Insecurity bubbled under his skin. His mind blanked. “Sounds delicious,” he said.
“But I haven’t told you what we’re cooking,” the newcomer said with a laugh. “Sweet yams! Creamy potatoes! A charred wild boar cooked for a full day over a bed of moistened herbs and flavorful leaves. The pig is scored and stuffed with apples before roasting. Just wait until you bite into that crispy, sweet skin and tear into that sumptuous meat!”
As if he sensed Irulen’s waning self-confidence, Leofrick put himself forward. “Beautiful lady, your voice sounds as sweet and enjoyable as the food you describe. It would be the sum of all pleasures to dine here tonight in this wonderful town of yours.”
The lady curtsied. “And you are more than welcome to join us—as long as you bring more flattery with you.”
“Effortless, m’lady, when it comes to a flower such as yourself.”
She laughed. “My name is Marisa.”
Mirtha grabbed her husband’s arm and spoke through an inflexible smile, “Lovely and shiny like an apple, isn’t she?”
Having forgotten the man’s name, Irulen thought long and hard. The husband placed his hand over Mirtha’s. “Luthbrook is an orchard of beauties. None so pretty as my wife.”
“Oh, stop the flattery!” Mirtha bopped her palm off her forehead. “Silly silly… silly!”
Mirtha, Marisa, and Leofrick continued to chatter.
An audible sigh came from behind. Kay didn’t take to social ritual. Irulen found the sigh contagious. Neither do I… Neither do I. His shoulders deflated a little bit, his eyes wandered to the ground, and then traced their way up Marisa’s legs. It had taken no special thought or effort, but she was a magnet to his gaze. The whiteness of her skin paled with the brown, leafy fodder strewn against the ground. Her curves traced a contoured line of all that was fair and right with all that was fallen a
nd rotten.
“Are you all right?” asked Marisa.
“Yes, sorry. Why?” A tough question and a hard concept for me. Am I all right? I’m here…
“You looked a bit… sad… especially for the apple festival!” She looked into his eyes. Too deeply for a first-time meeting. Too deep. He hated it when people commented on his appearance. He hated it even more when they hit somewhere near the truth.
Irulen blinked and turned to face the others. “I’m sorry… I’m just tired…”
Something seized his arm. A flash of blind anger cut through him. He turned to the source of the disruption. Comcka’s face appeared, grizzled and hard. He thought to strike it, but the face melted and became Marisa’s. She stood close in front of him and tugged gently at his arm to move him along. She smiled through his awkwardness.
“Come along… you don’t have to be tired anymore. I’ll show you to the guest dwelling.”
Kay scoffed behind him as Marisa led on. He felt her gaze burn his back. But the fact remained that he felt tired… as tired as ever before. It seemed almost as if Marisa had exercised some form of magic by naming his fatigue with words. By bringing attention to the exhaustion, she had given it power over him. He ceased caring about what Kay or anyone else thought. Time to sleep.
“Hey! I’m feeling pretty sleepy myself!” Leofrick called after them.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” asked the husband.
Bertrand. Irulen reminded himself. That’s his name.
“Sleep can wait,” Leofrick said.
“I need a drink.”
Mirtha clapped her hands together. “We can show you to the tavern.”
The clap startled Irulen, who turned around to find Kay and Leofrick sharing strange looks at the mention of a tavern. They had filled him in on what happened the last time they graced a tavern. Granted, taverns hadn’t worked out much for anyone as of late, but what else was there to do in a small town? He figured the call of ale and food would be too much for them to resist and headed onward to find what he needed most: rest—lots of rest. He ignored Farah and Merek as they returned from their frolic with another village woman. A mid-sized, plain-looking blonde busily talked Farah’s ear off. Good luck with that. He lowered his head and continued past them with his escort.
