When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell.
Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may.
After all...I can't fix stupid.
Previously: Miriam confronted Wendell’s true nature, and friends from the village discovered the fleeing party. Evan confronts Wendell and people take sides.
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Sometimes, all you have the power to do…is watch.
She looked up into my eyes, reached her hand around my neck, and pulled me closer. Leaning in, she closed her eyes and pressed her soft lips to…
Help me.
…my cheek.
Her lips were warm and soft, but I didn’t have time to regret the loss. The voice drifted down the hallway and I heard it through more than just my ears. I heard it through my skin.
Help me, please.
It only took me a fraction of a millisecond to decide how to respond.
I drop the girl onto the floor.
My entire world started spinning as I tried to find where the voice was coming from.
“Did you year that?” I ask.
“What?” the girl grunts. She looked up at me, quite miffed. I don’t think she felt like kissing me anymore.
They are coming.
I spun on my heels.
The voice came from…everywhere.
Soft. Clear. Scared.
A child.
Oh, please give me enough time to figure this out.
I already knew the answer.
…not a chance.
The hiss from behind confirmed it.
The girl jumped into my arms, her face contorted with terror.
“No!” she cried, “Don’t let them get me! PLEASE!!”
The hair rose on the back of my neck. It’s not her expression that does it. It’s the scraping sound, echoing behind me, like claws against stone, that causes me to shudder. Turning, I see two more of the ghastly robes.
I yawn.
Oh look, the hoods are empty.
There are hollow, vacant holes where faces should be. The shredded sleeves in place of hands of flesh, reach out. Like specters, they moved towards us, crawling on all four limbs, prowling along…
“Hey,” I yawn again, “can we move this along?”
“Jussst a boy. Jussst a CHILD,” it hisses.
They pause…as if considering, swaying in the shadows. Watching me. The tops of the hoods roll forward, bend — skinless brows frowning at me. Now that I think about it, they look like badly made animatronics. Arching their backs, they change positions, like beasts ready to pounce upon their prey.
My ears strain to pick up some sign of the child’s voice, but there’s nothing.
It’s gone.
“Go home or ssshe will…”
“Right,” I interrupt, the voice pounding in my skull. Grabbing the girl, I pull her close. “Moving on.”
Focus. Useless shelf to my right. Two wood crates and three full gunny sacks — probably grain, a pile of someone’s forgotten laundry. No help there. To my left, a stained glass window.
Apparently, most people put stained glass windows in basements around here.
I clasp the girl to me, her head against my shoulder. I hesitate. She’s so warm. I feel my heart pounding in my chest.
Focus, Wendell!
The creatures launched themselves, claws outstretched.
“Hold tight!” I yelled, but she couldn’t hear me. Not as I plunge through the glass.
The icy wind stings my flesh, the glass shards tear my cheek and forearm.
I’m all alone, again…and plummeting to my death.
Oh well.
The waves of the sea beckon as the rocky shore rushes up to meet me.
I’m not prepared for what comes next.
My body hits the rocks.
There’s no impact.
The landing is soft, and the rocks collapse beneath me. I continue to sink, the rim of the stone above me folding over my body.
…and I suffocate.
My arms try to flail about, but I can’t move,…can’t breathe.
Pressure on my face holds me down.
I woke with a start.
The rustling of leaves echoes through the stillness of the night, accompanied by the distant hooting of an owl and the occasional scurrying of small creatures.
My eyes flickered open, hands clawing at my sides.
That was new…and horrible. My nostrils flared, pulling in air so fast it burned.
In the forest’s darkness, the slivers of moonlight pierce through the leaves of the trees, creating small glimmers of silver on the forest floor. The shadows take the shape of jagged holes, as if the darkness is being torn apart by the light.
What was that!? I wondered, still wanting to fight the overwhelming panic of being buried alive.
No. I’m alright.
Okay, not alright, but I’m safe for the moment. Ever since I was chosen as the host for the gem, my senses had grown. Nothing too dramatic, but even in this dim light, I could see almost clearly. Everything amplified…as if my previous life dulled and muted.
We’d traveled three days, stopping only for an essential rest and to change Hiram’s bandages. Evan had guided us higher into the mountains. A popular hunting ridge, Evan had said — a narrow notch between two mountains. The hunting trail allowed easy access for the horses, while providing cover to keep the beasts hidden. It was a perfect spot. Large clusters of trees grew dense here, with more growing out from the mountainside. Even in the direct sunlight, it would be challenging to spot us.
We’d made camp just before nightfall, on a wide ridge high over a valley.
A glimmer of movement caught my attention.
The small snap of a twig turned my head, then the shadows of a large frame moving past. Evan hunched low, crawling. A yellow light flickered across the blacksmith’s face.
Rolling over to my side, I pushed up as quietly as I could and followed.
We’d forgone a fire, just in case the evil we’d escaped followed us. We were all hungry, but Evan had suggested we wait another day before hunting. He wanted to put enough distance between us and the village, so we rationed what meager supplies Miriam had brought with us.
Voices…loud enough to hear, but not clear enough to understand…echoed.
It sounded to me like we hadn’t traveled far enough.
The valley below contained a farm.
Miriam had suggested we descend and warn the family before we set up camp. We decided instead to tie up the horses and took time to rest before venturing down. If we had to run, we would need the strength. It was a good plan.
A practical plan.
Now the farm burned.
I crawled to the ridge, peering through the trees, the scent of smoke reaching us. I could see a dozen or more figures. Small, black silhouettes in front of the blazing hovel. There was no way to tell which was friend or foe. One thing was certain, though — farmers aren’t in the habit of setting their own homes ablaze.
“We have to do something,” said Miriam.
“We will,” said Evan. “We’re leaving.”
His mother’s small hand, still wrapped in dirty rags, reached out and grasped his tunic. She held him fast and looked at him pleadingly. “We can’t leave them…”
I could see the reflection of the moonlight in her tears. “What would you have me do, mother?” Evan said softly, yet firm. “Put the rest of us at risk?” He encased her hand with his own, then lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Mother…we are in no condition to fight. No condition to provide. Right now, my greatest responsibility is to ensure the safety of those around me.”
Not hearing any screams in the distance was unsettling. I couldn’t see any running or abrupt movements, and for a moment, I hoped, with all my heart, that the farm was deserted.
“What’s going on?” peeped Hiram.
I’d almost forgotten about the boy. We’d propped him up against one tree, his face and shoulders hidden in shadow. Fortunately, Miriam had stopped worrying about him. She had been diligent in encouraging me to lead Hiram’s horse, to sit next to him, and to assist her in dressing the boy’s bandages. Maybe odd, and sometimes uncomfortable…but the kid seemed to get better. Hiram had no clue what was going on, of course. As far as he knew, I enjoyed sitting by him…a lot…and asked a lot of stupid questions to get to know him.
Truth was, it was like ten times more uncomfortable for me than it was for him.
I wondered how much Miriam knew about me? She had a growing habit of dropping hints at me, which grabbed my attention. When I tried to confront her, though, she’d sidestep and move away from the subject.
It felt a great deal like a game of cat and mouse.
I reached up and placed my hand over the Ithari, letting my fingers run along its edge under the cloth of my shirt.
Miriam was holding back. There were things she wasn’t telling me, and I had a gut feeling they might help me.
Evan scooted backwards and got up. He made his way to the horses.
As soon as he disappeared into shadow, I walked over to kneel next to Hiram and his mother.
“You’re just in time,” said Miriam. She unwrapped the bandages around Hiram’s chest and set them gently in Livi’s lap. The young girl was also awake, sitting, watching her mother perform the labor with skilled hands. “If you could please hold his shoulders and help him lean forward? We need to get the wound into the moonlight so I can check on its progress.”
I wanted to talk out loud and confront the woman about what she might know. What she might tell me. Her people were record keepers, and unlike the people she’d lived around, Miriam believed in magic.
To her, it wasn’t some sin, or something, to be shunned.
But what could I say? How much could I say in front of Hiram? In front of Livi? The boy still seemed to be in a daze.
“You should stop hiding,” Miriam whispered. I looked up to see her staring at me in the moonlight. “I see the way you look into your bag. The books you try to remove, only to put them back and remove something smaller and…,” she hesitated, and I thought I saw her smirk. “More appropriate looking for a bag that size?”
“I…don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, though unconvincing.
“Of course you don’t,” she chuckled. “Push his shoulder forward just a little more…yes, thank you.”
We worked in silence for a few minutes.
“I don’t want to cause problems,” I said finally.
She pulled the rest of the bandage away from the wound. “And you believe being someone other than who you are will help the situation?”
I frowned. “Well,….huh,” I muttered.
I didn’t have an answer for that.
Did it matter that others knew who I was at this point?
I already knew the answer.
Evan had made his opinions known. Didn’t know the history behind his anger towards magic and those who use it, but I didn’t want a confrontation. It would be a bad idea to reveal too much to the blacksmith. Livi didn’t utter a single word. She wasn’t saying anything to anyone.
Okay, so I wasn’t being as stealthy as I thought. Noted. Keep the bag closed for now and change the subject, Wendell.
“Why…doesn’t Livi speak?” I whispered to Miriam. It was one of those moments when you regret asking a question as soon as it leaves your lips, but it was too late. Miriam’s countenance fell.
Fortunately, she forced herself to smile before Livi looked up at her. With a gentle touch, she reached out and brushed her daughter’s hair back from her face. “She hasn’t spoken a word since her father died. She loved him very much.” Miriam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “and he adored her.”
Hiram flinched as experienced fingers resumed pushing and pulling at the wound, inspecting.
“Dearborn always wanted a daughter. Not that he didn’t adore his sons.” She leaned over and kissed Hiram on the crown of his head in a motherly fashion. “He felt the world was such a wicked place that only a female soul could balance out the sorrow he experienced and saw in life.” She smiled to herself. “I loved that about him.”
There were things about Miriam that reminded me of my family. The gentleness and compassion of my mother.
I swallowed and nodded. “May I ask…what happened to him?”
Livi slid close to her mother and wrapped her arms around Miriam’s forearm. She leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder.
“It’s something we do not speak of,” Miriam choked. She cleared her throat, then patted her daughter’s hand reassuringly.
Death and losing a loved one. It was a hard subject. I knew that firsthand.
“We’ll put Livi and Hiram on the horses and lead them back down the path,” said Evan, coming to view. “We’ll have to backtrack, maybe an hour or two, but not more than that. But we’ll have to use deeper paths to avoid bumping into anyone else. We need to get away from the occupied valleys and farmsteads.”
“Hiram is doing better. We should be able to move faster,” added Miriam. “The bleeding has stopped, and the wound is scabbing over.”
“I do feel better,” mumbled Hiram, though he still looked pale, even in the dim light.
“How is that even possible?” Evan asked. He shot a wary glance at me. “It’s barely been three days since he was shot. He’s also been riding a horse the entire time!” His tone grew suspicious, pointed.
Tha-THUMP-Thump
I could feel the stony stare, even though I couldn’t see the blacksmith’s face clearly.
The sound of a snapping branch echoed from between the trees.
Tha-THUMP-Thump
Tha-THUMP-Thump
My stomach sank.
With an awkward movement, I rolled to my knees, jerked my head up, and peered into the shadow where everything was hidden.
Miriam wrapped one arm around Hiram’s neck, leaning her body over him. She pushed her daughter behind her.
Evan let go of the mare’s lead rope and slid his war hammer from under the bags draped across its back. “Stay here,” he whispered. Crouching low, he stepped towards the grove, vanishing into the shadows himself.
With the ledge behind us, the only threat had to be hiding in the grove rolling up against the mountainside.
I rolled backwards onto my feet, hunched low, and followed behind the blacksmith. Unlike Evan, I didn’t have a weapon or shield, so I did the only thing I could think of…and grabbed a stone near my foot. Not a magnificent weapon, but we were in this together. There was no way I was about to leave Evan’s back exposed.
The grove was pitch black. Almost impossible to see and navigate with thick foliage overhead, blotting out the dim moonlight. It didn’t help to be in the shadows of the mountains, either. I stayed a pace or two behind Evan, trying to focus on his footfalls and giving him enough room to maneuver. The last thing I wanted was a swinging a hammer in the face.
It wasn’t long before I noticed.
The uncomfortable silence.
Thick grass underfoot absorbed the sound of our steps. Except for our breathing, I couldn’t hear a thing. Not even the sound of crickets.
That usually meant...
Without sign or forewarning, a knife blade touched against my throat. The cold metal startled me, but before I could jerk away, a heavy boot kicked the back of my knee. My legs collapsed, forcing me to the ground.
“That’s quite far enough,” the voice whispered, but it wasn’t directed at me. There was a tremor…maybe panic, perhaps excitement in the tone. “Turn around slowly, or your friend will breathe through a new hole.”
Evan stood upright. Lifting both hands outward, he kept a firm grip on his weapon and turned.
“Ah, ah, ah,” warned the voice, “set the hammer down…gently.”
“Not going to happen,” Evan said coolly.
“I’m not kidding around,” said the man nervously, “I’ll cut him, I swear it!”
Evan shrugged. “Then do it.”
I tried not to shriek. W-what’s he playing at?! I could feel the vibrations through the blade as the hand trembled.
He’s going to do it! He’s considering cutting my throat!
Strange thing was…I didn’t feel nervous. At all. Images and memories of wrestling with my father when I was younger came to mind. Being flipped forward onto the couch, when I would attack my dad in jest.
Exhaling, I dropped the rock and reached up, grabbed the hand holding the knife, and hugged it close to my chest. There was no way I wanted to get cut, and the move pulled the knife away from my throat. In the same movement, I slid my hips back into the attacker, and dropped my head and shoulders down towards the ground.
There was a flinch, then a gasp,…followed by a squeak.
The short, chubby man hit the ground with a loud grunt and a thud.
Evan rushed forward as I released my grip and stumbled backwards.
Both my hands patted over the skin of my neck. There wasn’t any pain. Not even discomfort.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Evan gripped the hammer, ready to strike as he mounted the little man’s chest. “Who are you!” he demanded, and he made a motion as if to hit him.
Chubby arms in a thin tunic covered face and head. “PLEASE!” he begged. “Don’t hit me! I didn’t mean any harm!!”
“Didn’t mean any harm? You had a knife at my friend’s neck!”
I stopped my self check. “Heyyyyy…you told him he could cut me!”
Evan ignored me.
My eyes were adjusting to the lack of light and I noticed the little man looking about. “I think he might have friends around here, Evan,” I suggested…but I couldn’t see a soul.
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
“NO!” blurted the man. “There’s no one here, I swear it!”
Evan got up and dragged the man to his feet by his collar. With a violent motion, he slammed the man’s chest against a tree. He laid the handle of the hammer across the man’s rounded shoulders. “I think we should…”
The girl’s voice rang out clear and high-pitched as she cried, “Daddy!” from behind the shrubs. The rustling of leaves revealed her hiding spot as she dashed out into the open.
She was a young girl, only six years old, maybe. Her curly hair was tied up in a messy bun, strands falling around her face. She wore a tattered dress, with dirt stains and frayed edges.
Evan froze, his grip on the hammer slackening. His stern expression softened as he looked at the trembling little girl. I could see the conflict in his eyes as he tried to reconcile the situation. This was no hardened criminal, just a scared child caught up in something beyond her comprehension.
Miriam stepped forward, her voice calm. “It’s okay, sweetie. Everything will be fine now.” She kneeled down to the girl’s level, offering a gentle smile.
The young girl sniffled, tears glistening in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry. Daddy told me to hide and not make a sound,” she stammered.
Evan exchanged a glance with Miriam before releasing the chubby man and approaching the girl. He kneeled next to her, his weathered face softening. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
The girl hiccuped before whispering, “Una.”
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
“Una,” snapped another older child’s voice.
The man wailed, “I told you girls to be silent!” He turned to Evan. “Please, I beg of you — don’t hurt my little girls! Take whatever you want, but don’t harm them!” He tapped his vest. “I have silver! In my pocket — take it. Take it all! PLEASE!”
Evan snarled. “Keep your voice down!”
The man bit his lip and nodded.
I watched the little girl dash over and cling to her father, clenching the man’s hand to her face. A moment later, a second child — older, taller — approached us cautiously. She looked at us.
“Evan,” I said, “I think he believe’s WE are the creatures.”
“What?” the blacksmith turned to the man, which startled him and he thumped to the ground.
Both children huddled against their father, who wrapped his arms around them both. He whispered, “It will be all right. We’ll get through this.”
“Sir,” I whispered, scratching the back of my neck, “is that your home burning down there? Because we’re not with them. We’ve just escaped from an attack on our own village three days south.” It almost startled me, how natural it felt, to refer to myself as from Evan’s village.
“We need to go, Wendell,” grumbled Evan. “Once they burn that farm, they’re going to move on - and if we don’t leave, they’re going to find us.” Evan snorted. “THIS one,” he gestured to our new friend, “likely led them TO us.” He turned to leave.
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
I ran up and grabbed the blacksmith’s arm. “We have to take them with us. We can’t just leave them here, on their own.”
Evan scoffed. “He had a knife at your neck!”
“Yeah,” I replied, “which you encouraged him to use! Come on — he thought I was a vallen. Which I’m not, thank you very much.”
Evan yanked his arm free of my grip.
…which ended up being convenient, because the long nasty blade aimed at his chest sank through my left forearm, instead.
“AAAARGH!” I yelled, my free hand going to the wound. Warm blood ran down my forearm, inches of the blade sticking out the backside of my flesh.
Evan stumbled backwards in shock, just as a second blade sailed through the air, missing my shoulder and tumbling between us.
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
Tha-THUMP-Thump!
“Foundss uss the prey, we did….,” hissed a dirty voice from the darkness.
“We both didss,” hissed a second.
Without a sound, two of the scariest looking humanoid-ish things I’d ever seen dropped from the larger trees and into the moonlight. Slender, with elongated limbs covered in thick fur, both were naked except for loincloths, slim sheaths strapped to one hip by rope, and an odd-colored mask covering their faces. Patchwork designs, though the pieces looked random and torn, not uniform. They were tall…likely close to seven feet, both of them.
They moved with cat-like grace, and when they stood up, I noticed their fingers. Both had claws at the tips, at least an inch or longer.
My eyes watered from the pain. I blinked them hard and tried to control my breathing. I could feel the flood of warmth from Ithari , pulsing out from my chest, going straight to the wound.
If these things, whatever they were, had found us, how many more creatures were on their way?
“Me gets the prize-skin…you miss-ted,“ said the first. Then it pointed to me. “Mine stuck.” It licked its lips and smiled, a mouth full of pointed teeth. “You gets the runners and I’ll gets the food. It smellss good.”
The farmer rolled in front of his daughters as both his girls screamed.
THAT got the attention of both the animals.
Wait,…that thing was talking about me…as FOOD?
“Therrin,” shrieked Miriam. “Don’t let them cut you. They lace their fingers and weapons in poison!”
I fell back, raising my bleeding arm in the air. “CUT!” I yelled….”POISONED!”
Evan dashed toward the children, while Miriam rushed towards me.
The Therrin split their attentions. The smaller one, with the poor aim, attempted to lunge at the two little girls, but Evan countered with an upward swing of a solid metal hammer. Unable to change directions in midair, the Therrin tried to block the blow with its arms.
Stupid move.
Big as it was, the creature had no idea how strong my friend was, or how hard he could hit. Evan wasn’t a farmer. He labored with metal, and the blow displayed it.
A snarl escaped the lips of the blacksmith as he threw all his might into the swing.
Metal met flesh, fur, and bone.
…then went through it.
The single blow, perfectly timed, the Therrin’s lower body kept coming as its head and an arc of something wet flipped back towards its feet.
“URK,” was all the sound it made…then hit the ground and slid up against a tree, twitching.
The other had its head cocked to the side, staring right at me. Its long, forked tongue licked its lips as it crouched, for what I was assuming was its own lunge…at me.
That ‘URK’ distracted it just as Miriam appeared at my side.
When it looked back to me, the kind woman I’d gotten to know as Hiram and Livi’s mother…snatched up the fallen blade, and drove it into the eye-socket of the Therrin.
The hilt hit the worn bridge of the Therrin’s nose.
It crumpled to the ground.
I looked at Miriam, then down at the two dead…things that just tried to kill us…and shivered.
“Uhhh, Miriam?” I said, holding up my forearm, the nasty-looking blade protruding from both sides. “Could you he…”
She grabbed my wrist with one hand and tore the blade free with the other.
I puked.
She leaned down, scratching my back. “You’ll be fine,” she whispered. “We can use these weapons. Just urinate on them at first chance. That will negate the poison Therrin use.”
I…didn’t have a reply to such instructions…so I puked again.
“Wendell! How bad are you hurt?” Evan asked, rushing to my side.
Keeping my wound close to my chest, I waved him away. “I’ll be okay…but you’re right, we need to get out of here…now. Wherever you think we can hide, we need to leave. These can’t be the only creatures out looking.”
“We’ll need to hide these bodies to buy us time,” he said. The blacksmith looked over at the little man, but I could tell his eyes lingered on the children.
“You said you had a responsibility to those around you,” I reminded him. I jabbed a thumb at the three huddled under the tree. “They’re around you.”
Evan growled.
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Author Notes
I’ve noticed that pacing the story while writing a serial feels much different than writing a novel. Makes me wonder how this change will affect the final story being put into print?
…my mind now considers changes in the story by the timing of the post, rather than just what’s happening to Wendell in the storyline.
Would love to know your thoughts on the pacing of the story thus far.
Jaime
I kinda fell behind for a bit and read a big chunk back to back to back.
And I think the pacing is really good actually.
The story flowed perfectly from chapter to chapter when read in succession, And I think it will work great when combined into the finished product!