21. Discovered

“There are no maul marks on him. It looks more like he’s been beaten up.”

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: Our hero and his companions made their escape from the horde, because Wendell was willing to use himself as bait. Giving the company enough time to flee, Wendell finds an opening, catches up to his companions…and not watching where he was running…promptly plummets over a cliff.

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Sometimes the Universe sends people to do nothing more than help us make it to the next chapter in our lives.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had a head wound before, but trying to use your mental faculties can drop close to nil. All I remembered was tripping over Chuck and sailing out into…nothing. There was a cool mist against my face as I fell, arms flapping as fast as they would…which did nothing. 

I think I screamed all the way down?

Yeah. Pretty sure, I screamed.

Didn’t remember hitting the bottom, though. That’s the strange part. I fell quite a distance, but I don’t remember any impact. How can that be?

Couldn’t feel anything, either. 

Well, I felt a little of the warm sensation when Ithari…

We are wounded.

Ithari…is that you?

Yes.

Why can I hear you so clearly?

We are wounded.

Yeah, you said that. But I can hear you right now, as if you were standing right next to me. Normally I can’t hear you…and for the record, I DO try to talk to you. Why is that?

Because we are wounded. 

You can only talk to me when I’m hurt? Is that what it takes?

You listen when you are wounded. Other distractions fade and your mind remains quiet.

Soooo,…this is on me. I’m not able to hear you, because of me?

Yes.

Oh. Okay. Since we are here now, and you have my full attention,…is there a way for me to learn how to hear you while I’m awake,…or conscious,…the opposite of what I am right now?

Yes.

Good. Cool. Ow. Something is pinching my chest.

We must wake now, Wendell.

What? Woah…wait. We just finally started talking and you’re changing the subject?

Those who will save you are near.

Save me? I thought you…Ow. Seriously, that hurts. Aren’t you supposed to…OW. The pinch…in my chest.

Amidst the swirling void of emptiness, where my consciousness lingered with my captive female companion, a twig snapped.

“Shhhh. Do you want to scare it off?”

“Look who’s talking,” said a second voice.

The sounds of crunching leaves and grass echoed in my mind. The pinch I complained about throbbed in a stabbing sensation in my chest. For a moment, I could smell a hint of mint. It was mixed with surges of mud, sweat…and vomit.

Oh, I hope I didn’t puke on myself.

…again.

A presence drew closer. Breathing, controlled, and steady.

Then it stopped. Like a frightened animal, I could feel the strain of not wanting to move for fear of being discovered.

“Evan!” hissed the youthful voice.

“Shhhh! How many times do I have to tell you, Hiram? So help me, if we lose our dinner again, mother is going to skin US!”

“…but Evan,” pleaded Hiram.

The movement was muffled, but quick — shifting through the grass, and then it stopped short. For long moments, there was complete silence, and the emptiness rolled back in.

The stabbing sensation intensified, and part of me wanted to scream out loud. Release this growing pressure.

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. That’s a lot of blood.”

“Do you think it was a bear?”

“There are no maul marks on him. It looks more like he’s been beaten up.”

“Why is there a branch sticking out of his side, Evan?”

Again, the sound of footfalls slowly circling me. My brain told my body to call out…to ask for help, but nothing happened.

“Look at the bark — it’s covered in moss. He must have fallen onto it…in the water. Hit something floating, maybe? I don’t know. Maybe someone threw him on it.”

“What would make someone want to throw a person onto a log?”

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know, Hiram. I don’t usually find dead bodies in the forest, do you?”

“Evan!”

“For heaven’s sake, what?!!”

“His hand…it…”

“What about his…”

“THERE,…did you see it!? It moved!”

Cold hands. Rough, scratchy fibers against my hot skin. My arm is shifted, and the stabbing pain intensified. Why can’t I scream!?

“By The Makers…he is alive.”

“But,…how could he be? Look at him Evan! And the branch sticking out…”

“Open my sack, Hiram — get out my blanket.”

“Why?”

“Do as I say! He’s alive and we’re going to help him.”

“I’m not touching him, Evan. He’s,…bloody and…yucky.”

“What did you expect was going to happen when you started hunting with me? Did you think the animals would neatly fall upon the grass and roll into little packages for you to take home?”

“No. I thought that we’d shoot a deer, skin it and then go home — not find a dead boy in the forest with a tree growing out of his stomach!”

“Well, he’s not dead, so give me that blanket already!”

“Here.”

“Alright — we can’t move him unless we pull that wood from his side.”

“Ohhhh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“If we don’t, Hiram, he’ll die.”

“He hasn’t died so far…we could leave him here for someone else to find.”

There was a long pause, followed by a sigh.

“I know this is scary, Hiram, but if you were badly hurt and alone in a forest…and by a slim chance, someone found you — wouldn’t you want to be helped?”

There was another long pause, then a heavy sigh.

“Yes.”

“Then help me.”

“Alright.”

Rough hands once more, pulling and turning my legs.

“Why is he dressed so weird?”

“Don’t know — maybe a jester…or worse, a foreigner. Doesn’t matter, he’s just a kid.”

“He’s a lot older than me.”

“Just…don’t think about it, ok?”

The sound of cloth rending in two echoed in the blackness.

“Mom made that!”

“…and now mom is going to help us save a life. Here, fold it into a thick square. I’ll make some strips so we can bind the wounds.”

“How are we going to get him back to the village? It’s more than a day’s walk — you can’t carry him all that way, Evan.”

“No…no, I can’t. Good point. We’ll have to use a couple of these branches, make a cot and drag him.”

“I’ll get started collecting the wood.”

“Thanks little brother.”

The foot falls were louder now, twigs and limbs snapping, shifting, dragging of heavy things unseen.

“Hey, Evan?”

“Yeah.”

“You think mom’s gonna skin us?”

There was another long pause and another sigh.

“Probably.”

They’re coming.

“Whuu..” I muttered.

They’re coming.

“Whuu—huh!” I repeated, my head flipping about. There was a pounding in my skull…and with each throb, I noticed things around me.

The candlelight flickered across the ceiling. Clusters of reeds making the thatch roof, bending in the shadows overhead. The wind whistled outside, yanking on the chattering shutters.

The pounding changed.

In the distance, the sound of metal rang. It was that same pounding rhythm, loud and intense enough to pierce my sleep. Each ring caused me to flinch.

My eyes fluttered. Then slowly opened.

I winced.

Even though it was dim, the light stabbed at my eyes.

A chill draft ran over my bare shoulders, and I shivered. I grunted softly. The whole of my body felt stiff, not to mention unbelievably sore.

I opened and closed my hands. Even my fingers felt stiff. The rough wool blankets itched the skin of my chest. I shivered again. Willing my arm to move, I reached up to scratch.

The reverberating echo of the ringing metal hummed in my mind. Ping. Ping. Ping. It rang through the silence and helped me to focus.

Flinching hard, I slapped a hand over my mouth and tried not to scream. The reaction nearly sent me flipping over the edge of the bed.

Sitting motionless, barely an arm’s length from the cot, was a tiny child. A girl, I assumed, from the long hair. She sat on a stool, staring at me, her dirty face completely devoid of expression. Her round eyes peered at me through the dark, the whites of her eyes almost glowing.

Slowly, I lowered my hand from my mouth.

“Hello,” I said nervously, gulping air. “You scared me!”

The child said nothing. She just continued to stare at me. That was…awkward. She didn’t flinch at my reactions towards her, which also seemed odd to me. She didn’t look over four or five years old, which was weird, considering that I was a stranger. What I found weirder was that she didn’t even blink. So I did what any grown up would likely do in a situation like this with a child…

I tried smiling.

“I’m Wendell,” I said, my voice cracked and dry. “What’s…your name?”

She just stared back at me, unblinking.

“Cat got your tongue?” I asked, then bit his bottom lip. She wouldn’t understand that, would she? Which sparked a question. “Do you speak common?” I said.

Nothing.

“Iskari? Evolu? Kutollum?” I sighed. “You wouldn’t speak English, would you?”

The candlelight flickered in the breeze, sparkling in her eyes, but she said nothing whatsoever.

“Of course not,” I sighed. “Alrighty then, would you mind going out so I can get up?” I motioned towards the doorway, then waved my fingers. “Go on. SHOO!”

She flinched at the last word.

Sliding from the stool, she walked to the doorway and stopped. Grasping the door frame with tiny fingers, she turned to look at me once more.

A tiny smile crept across her face, then she was gone.

I shook my head. Honestly, that smile creeped me out a bit.

Weird kid.

My body felt stiff and tired — my limbs heavy like lead. When I tried to sit up, my head fell back against the folded pillow. Just didn’t have any strength. Pain jabbed me in the side, just below my ribcage.

Ungh!

My opposite hand shot across my stomach in reaction, and I immediately regretted it. AHHHH! I winced. It felt like a truck had run me over. When I blinked again, I clenched my lids tight. Not sure I’d ever felt pain like this before. The flesh under my fingers felt tender.

The…tree.

I remembered the cold water being tossed and knocked about over the rocks. I was unable to stand, swim, or stay afloat as my body was thrown over ledge after ledge, down sections of the river. 

Until I hit a wedged tree.

Probably would have been safe if my mägoweave shirt covered my side. The water had rolled the cloth up to my armpits.

I had to know where I was. Who was helping me?

That meant getting up.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself into a sitting position. My legs barely responded, but hey, I knew what non-responsive was like. This was good enough. A grunt or three later, I let my legs drop over the edge of the cot. They swung hard and I could feel the strain on my knees. The bed creaked under me as I moved. Worse, my stomach spasmed with the effort…forcing me to control my breathing or cry out in pain.

“Chuck?” I whispered.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

“Dax? …‘Hannah?”

There was no answer.

Nothing smelled familiar either. Cows. Horses, maybe?

As I shifted, the blanket dropped from my chest, and I looked down. My hand suddenly had a life of its own and slapped over my sternum in alarm.

My skin was all pink!

Not that it was a bad thing, but there was no sign of Ithari!

I wasn’t sure if I should cry out, or gasp with relief? My fingers wandered over the section of my skin that I knew the gem was SUPPOSED to be sitting.

I froze. 

My fingertips found the ridges of the stone protruding from my skin. Closing my eyes, I squinted tightly and then opened my eyes again, glancing at my chest.

Nothing but skin.

Skin…skin.

I gulped…and lifted the blanket across my lap.

Pants on. I sighed in relief.

We’re good.

Someone had folded my shirt and placed it on a small stool in the room's corner, my socks on top — my sneakers on the floor underneath the stool. When I patted my hip, the coins shifted in my pocket. Whomever helped me, was honest.

Everything was here,…except my protectors.

A soft encroaching sensation of security crept in, and it allowed me to yawn. Even that hurt a little bit. It was night outside, I could tell that much. Crickets chirped their contentment in the chilly breeze.

Again, the ring of metal on metal sounded.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

I let my feet slide to the floor, careful to hold on to the wood bed frame. There was a colt jolt, and I immediately pulled them back.

The entire floor was dirt. No carpet. No wood. 

I leaned forward and squinted through the candlelight. Layered rocks formed the lower edges of the walls. I could see grass or weeds poking through the slats. The building was partially underground. The walls were adorned with bundles of dried flowers and other plants, hanging or bunched together on shelves.

There was a pop, and then another.

The crackling of a fire, coming from the other room.

Painfully and slowly slipping on my shirt and socks, I crept to the cloth curtain and slowly drew it back. I stepped into the doorway…and hesitated. Asleep on a small mat of reeds in front of the fire was an older woman. Gray streaks adorned her dark hair, tightly pulled back and wound into a bun. Her tattered dress was frayed, her hands and feet wrapped in dirty rags. Her arms enveloped two small children. A young boy and the little girl who had been watching me.

Cuddled together, they slept. The woman’s torn shawl draped over them.

They looked so peaceful and yet so…

I looked back into the bedroom.

The small, rickety bed had two blankets on it. Someone had folded the third blanket, thin and worn, into a makeshift pillow.

For me.

What I hadn’t noticed was the empty wooden bowl and the small cup perched under the side of the bed. A wide-rimmed bowl, still filled with water, squatted on a woven platform of sticks. Several used rags hung from the woven stick ends.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

Grabbing the blankets from the bed, I gently placed them over my sleeping hosts.

I almost fell over, startled, when I noticed the girl, still awake, staring up at me. I put a finger to my lips.

She smiled and slowly closed her eyes.

I grabbed my shoes and gingerly slipped out the front door.

The brisk wind felt good over my skin. For the first time, I could feel an enormous difference when I put on the mägoweave clothes. The coldness melted away once the shirt was up and over my head. I could still feel the cold air, but it didn’t sink in,…if that makes any sense?

Kneeling down, I slipped on my sneakers and tied the laces.

Well, I would have, but the moment I slipped the shoes on, the laces…well, kinda tied themselves.

Cool.

With my shoulders feeling so tight and my whole body stiff, I stretched my arms high and winced again. The pain was sharp and stabbing, shooting to my side.

Sorry Ithari,…you’re still working on me.

Tha-Thump-Thump

The beat of my heart stopped me,…and I placed a hand on the center of my chest.

“I don’t know how…but,…” I hesitated. It still felt silly doing this. Talking to an oversized version of what women wore on their finger. The TRUTH, though, was that Ithari WAS alive. She DID heal me, HAD healed me. Didn’t that deserve a measure of respect? Of gratitude?

It did.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For…saving me, I mean.”

I waited, hoping to hear…something, but nothing happened.

Right. What was I thinking? My mind must be clouded, or distracted, or whatever she’d said before.

I wasn’t hurt enough; I guess.

The stars were exceptionally bright, with a million billion stars, as thick and numerous as the sands upon the seashore. Also, this was the first time I looked up and saw the twin moons. Gigantic globes of light, hovering so close in the sky, I almost thought I could reach out and touch them.

How weird, though…twin moons, casting a blue glow over the village I was in. It almost looked as if the entire area around me was under water. I could see the faint glow of Erimuri, the red and orange flower barely visible along the rim of the rotating moon of Iskari-Kalam. I couldn't believe I had been on another planet just…

Wait, how long has it been?

I looked around me…and tried not to panic.

Chuck, Alhannah, Dax…they’d been on their way to Til-Thorin, when I’d fallen over the waterfall. Images flashed through my mind. Sensations of fear, cold, panic. Chuck hurt — bleeding badly — the Hounds. Dax trying to find a clearing, so they could…

The saliva went down my throat like gravel as I swallowed.

He left me.

Dax…left me!

Suddenly the silence felt thicker somehow. A weight on me with the realization that I was alone and on my own. Potentially I could live the rest of my life alone, on a different planet than I was born on. A place with dragons, monsters, mean little ugly elves who smoke nasty cigars and smell like rotten fish. A place where a war is about to explode in the face of the inhabitants.

War.

Oh crap.

Even in the moonlight, I could tell I was in farming country. The people who had cared for me lived on the outskirts of the village. A small shack, a few fruit trees and two barns, with a well in between. Didn’t see any livestock about. A broken, overturned plow was tipped up against a tree.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

How was I going to get to Til-Thorin now? Heck, how was I supposed to find my friends? 

Friends.

Huh.

Well, Chuck and Alhannah, definitely, but…

I had to get out of here. Get to Til-Thorin.

That’s what the letter said. That’s where my companions would go, wouldn’t they? I was surrounded by mountains everywhere. Okay, fine. I grew up hiking and camping. “I can do this,” I told myself out loud. My voice seemed awfully loud at the moment.

Yes. I can do this.

 Just because there’s an army of flesh-eating men out there looking for me,…it shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.

I bit my lip and fought the oncoming panic attack.

“Keep cool, Wendell. You can do this,” sad Doubt.

Where have you been!???

“Hey, don’t get on my case,…you’re the one that beat ME unconscious, remember? Throwing yourself off cliffs? REALLY?”

Sorry.

“You just need information. Tough things are ok. Bad things are… ok, SOME bad things are ok…but not knowing…being in the dark — that’s dangerous. Get your bearings…make for Til-Thorin ASAP.”

A light flickered from inside the barn, flashing through the slats of the walls.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

“Right,” Doubt gulped, “Time to meet the neighbors.”

I wiped my hands against my jeans.

Thing is, I hesitated outside the door. Not only was I alone, lost, no clue who these people were who saved me and dragged my body from where they found me, but had no idea what to say. Even now, I could feel the warm power of Ithari healing a nasty wound on my side. A wound these people saw first hand, without me to explain. 

Thank goodness Ithari was still hidden, but…

What would Chuck say? I had to smirk. “Hello would be a good start,” I whispered. The wizard would look at me with comical expressions and would explain manners and being friendly. It made me chuckle, which helped.

“Well, it will help to know where we are. Maybe they have a map we can use?” Doubt added.

I just hoped to have more luck than I did with the little girl. 

“Hello?” I called out, slowly pulling the rope handle. The hinges creaked loudly, and I winced at the unexpected sound.

“Keep that door shut,” said a burly voice, “or you’ll set this barn on fire.”

Ping. Ping. Ping.

I quickly slipped inside and pulled the door closed behind me.

The barn was a post and beam rectangular building, with a stone laid floor — rocks set in the dirt and leveled out. At its center was a giant stone chimney, the mouth of which glowed…coals burning brightly in the night. A forge that gave off enough light to work by. Flames crackled. Next to the forge was a huge tree stump — on top of which sat a giant anvil. A broad young man, sweating heavily, plunged a strip of metal into the trough. It popped and screeched in protest. He quickly plunged it back into the heat, turning it over and over again into the coals.

“What do you want?” the young man snapped. He did not turn around or even look up.

My hands reached into my pockets. “To…say thank you…for saving me. I probably would have died without your help.”

The young man pulled the metal from the fire and turned, glancing at me for barely a moment, before placing the glowing rod onto the anvil. A long metal rack hung from a wooden beam, its hooks displayed various hammers, tongs, and several leather aprons. He lifted a hammer down, tapped it against the metal of the anvil, and then proceeded to strike the glowing section repeatedly.

I shifted uncomfortably in place, but said nothing. There was a strange feeling in the room. Anger was present, though I’m not sure why, except for taking from his family.

When the hammering stopped, he pointed at me, using the hammer.

“I doubt that.”

“You…doubt what?” 

The blacksmith pounded the metal with renewed vigor. “There’s something not right about you.”

I smirked, rubbing the back of my neck. “You’re not the first one to say so. Let me tell you.”

“I mean it!” Plunging the metal back into the fire, he spun around and slammed the hammer down on the anvil. He walked around the stump, sliding the tongs from one of the hooks overhead. “When my brother and I found you, there was barely a spark of life in you.” His eyes reflected the fire dancing above the coals, narrowing to slits, carefully studying me. “That was three days ago,” he said in a whisper, though it sounded like a sneer. “Three DAYS! NOW look at you!!”

“I’m sorry, I…” my feet backed away, hands rising defensively.

“If my father were alive, he’d know what to do…and that’d likely be to throw you into the cold, taking no part in witchcraft or magic! But my mother,” he grit his teeth, “…she’s the kindest soul of this village. She watched over you, cleaned and bound your wounds, fed you, attended your burning fever…and then marveled as the hole in your side vanished!” He abruptly turned from me and walked back around the stump, snatched a longer set of tongs, and stabbed them into the fire. “Said you were a miracle.”

Flinging the glowing strip over the horn of the anvil, he quickly snatched the hammer and pounded out a semi-circle. “Miracles?…bah!” He spat on the ground. “I stopped believing in miracles when my father died,” he choked.

I knew exactly what he meant.

“Look, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, or anyone here, for that matter.” Better to be ready for a sprint into the night than a confrontation with this mountain of muscle. “I got separated from some friends of mine and fell over a cliff, trying to escape some vallen.”

The blacksmith scoffed. “There haven’t been giants in these lands for generations.”

“Well, they’re here now, so you…”

“So you say,” the blacksmith cut in.

“Wow,” hissed Doubt. “You really bother him being here!”

“Ok, how about we start over: my name is Wendell…and your name is?”

He paused. His body language, or maybe it was the way he hesitated, that screamed ‘don’t tell the stranger’.

“Evan,” he said curtly.

I frowned. “What did you say?”

Evan looked up, annoyed. “My name is Evan.”

Couldn’t help but smile, now. “You don’t say.”

“I just DID say!” Evan snapped, “…have your great healing powers forgotten your ears?!”

“Right, about that…”

Evan pointed the hammer at me again, this time with anger plainly displayed on his face. His brows rolled downward, lips curling back into a snarl. “I don’t want to know anything about you unless you’ll be leaving!”

Okaaay…wow.

I let out a quiet sigh and rubbed my arms as if cold. “If you could point me in the direction of Til-Thorin, I’ll leave now.”

Evan glared. “I guess I can start believing in miracles once more.”

“Sure. Til-Thorin. Know the way?”

For several long moments, Evan just stared numbly at me. His nostrils flared, his brows low over his eyes, which looked intimidating in the red light of the fire. When he finally spoke, it made me flinch.

“Outside those doors, turn to the right until you face the highest mountain peak. Start marching and keep the stream on your right side. Over that mountain, you’ll find the main river. Follow it upstream, staying IN the forest, until you come to Binmeer Lake. Follow the eastern edge of the lake until you find the river pouring into the lake. Follow that north. A little over a week’s walk and you’ll be standing in front of Til-Thorin.”

“A week?” My head fell forward. “As in seven days?”

“He’s a genius,” Evan mocked, shaking his head. He started striking the heated metal once again. “Anything else?” he yelled over the ringing.

I stood up and turned to leave, but stopped with my hand on the door. Evan and his family, especially his mother, had sacrificed for me. Possibly saved my life as much as Ithari had. I could feel the money pouch in my front pocket. “Actually, yes, I’d like to leave…”

“Then DO!” Evan yelled. With a snap of his arm, he threw the hammer at my feet. It clanged against the stones of the floor, narrowly missing me and slamming into the wall. “I don’t want your kind making any more trouble for my family than we already have…”

I took a deep breath. Right. Off we go then.

The blacksmith was still glaring at me as I pushed open the door and walked off into the night.

A large owl glided silently overhead and landed in one of the fruit trees. I slowed down at the edge of the field. The knots in my stomach twisted like pretzels, and I felt a sudden surge of nausea. I couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away without trying one last time.

“I owe you my life, Evan,” I called back, “so know that vallen are in these mountains. If they’re not stopped, eventually, they’re going to show up in this village.”

I waited for a moment, then pushed on into the night when I heard the ring of metal on metal resume.

I kept rubbing my arms, but it was out of habit. Not that I was cold…it just seemed like…the thing to do. I knew there was a chill in the air as I worked my way up the mountainside. The mägoweave kept me warm. The stars and moons provided plenty of light to walk in.

…I just hoped I was going in the right direction.

Could have sent me in the opposite direction for all I know, I pondered, holding onto a branch as I worked my way down an embankment. The sound of the trickling water kept me company. It made the trip, alone, in the dark, more bearable, more…friendly.

I leaped forward and kicked a rock across the landscape. No matter how angry Evan seemed, my heart already regretted not staying long enough to thank Evan’s mother.

“Well,” Doubt mused, “at least they’ll have food this winter.”

Maybe I should have left more…so they could buy animals for their barn. But I shook the thought from my mind. They know what they need; they don’t need my help. None of my business.

The walk wasn’t too unbearable. It was easy enough to navigate so long as I was in the open. The terrain continued to climb, but the last grove had plunged me into complete blackness. Almost fell on my face. The density of trees allowed me to catch myself. Without a torch or flashlight, this would not get easier until morning.

“Why am I pushing on into the night?” I said out loud, coming to a halt. “Not going to do me much good if I fall on another tree.”

Plopping down on a flat rock, I pulled off one of my sneakers and dumped out the pebbles, irritating my heels. “It’s not like I’m trying to tick everyone off,” I said out loud. “I can see it now, starting an international war over a dinner conversation, because I don’t know how to communicate.”

That made me wonder about the books Chuck had bought for my schooling.

Oh crap.

My books.

“That has to be a record. Not over three days and I lost the magic school bag.”

I laughed. 

Until my ears twitched at the sound of a twig snapping. The hair on the back of my neck stood up like gophers popping out of a hole.

What was that?

“Why are you asking ME? I’m just your imagination!” Doubt gulped.

I waited, trying to ignore the sound of water. Holding perfectly still, I strained my ears.

Nothing. Just my imaginat…

A rock tumbled down the embankment, clattering against the stone outcroppings. 

My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. 

Crap, crap…what do I do? 

My pulse quickened. 

There wasn’t anywhere to hide. I was out in the open. Exposed, my head snapped up to the mountainside.

TREES!

Sprinting as fast as I could, I pushed myself through the aches and pains. The footing was poor, and I stumbled several times on loose stones. Good thing I caught myself before falling backwards and tumbling down the mountainside. At the edge of the forest, I collapsed behind a tree just a few yards in.

My huffing and puffing was too loud. I was going to get caught! Opening my mouth wide, I tried to silence my panting.

“They’re going to find you, they’re going to find you…” whimpered Doubt.

Shut UP!!

“Wendell?” called an unfamiliar voice, one nearly out of breath.

There was a pause, then a huff and grumble. “I’m too tired for this!” With a sigh of exasperation, Evan took a deep breath and yelled, “Wendell!”

“You found me.” Evan threw up his fists as I stepped out from behind the tree. “What do you want?”

The blacksmith held up a finger and leaned over his knees, gulping air. “Sorry. Been,…a long…time since I’ve…run…that far.”

“There was no need for you to come after me.” I sat down against a sapling, wincing. “You made your feelings plain enough.”

“Yeah,…about that,” Evan said. He appeared nervous, swaying in place, looking about and then rubbing his hands together. “Help me gather some wood, will you? It’s cold…and we should talk.”

“Talk?” I said.

Again, the blacksmith averted his gaze. He kneeled at the base of a tree, scooping up pine needles and twigs. “I, uh, shouldn’t have been so rude,” he paused, almost choking on the words. “So, I came to bring you back…until you’re properly rested.”

I gave him a wry smile. “Because you feel guilty after finding gold?” Even in the shadows, I could see Evan flinch. There was no way I could leave without giving them something, especially seeing Evan’s mom and siblings laying in the dirt in front of the fire. “Sorry. That was rude,” I said. 

Evan cleared an area on the ground with his boot. “No, I deserved that.” He paused, looking over at me. “I was unkind and very frustrated. I shouldn’t have been. We helped you because we didn’t want you to die. My father would have wanted it that way…so it was wrong for me to…blame you for decisions we made.”

“Huh,” I grunted. “So you ran all that way, just to apologize?”

“No. I came all this way to make sure you get to Til-Thorin quickly and safely.”

I handed Evan the sticks near me. The young blacksmith had already pulled something from a pouch and was fiddling with a rope or string. “Well, that’s awfully noble of you.”

“Wrong again,” he smirked. “That’s from the guilt of seeing the gold.”

I laughed.

Before long, a fire was crackling and both of us found comfort in the heat and light of the flame. We sat in silence for some time, though, the sound of rushing water making the only conversation.

“So, are we going back, then?” I asked.

Evan poked the embers with a stick. “If you’re in a rush to get to the keep, there’s no point, really. Unless you have more of that gold to buy a horse. Not much point in going back just to go forward now, is there?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Though I was hoping to thank your mother for saving my life.”

“The gold said thank you loud enough, trust me,” he said.

“Was it enough for your family to make it through the winter comfortably?” I asked.

“Several winters,” he said. “Thank you for that. It’s all I worry about.”

I nodded. “I lost my mom recently, so I get that.”

Evan didn’t respond to that. Instead, he worked the embers of the fire with a stick. “Well, it’s late and I’ve been pounding metal all day — I could use a brief nap by a warm fire. We can start off at dawn. I know some hunting trails that should shave off close to a day if you don’t mind a faster pace?”

I rubbed my hands together over the fire. “Appreciate that.”

A few minutes passed, again in silence. “The gold isn’t…stollen, is it?”

I couldn’t help myself and burst out laughing.

Evan shrugged and pointed at me with the stick. “You’re not exactly dressed like a rich man.” He stared at the smiley face, which had its eyes closed, enjoying the warmth. “Not sure what you’re dressed like, to be honest.”

“No, it’s not stollen,” I assure him. “It’s…a gift.” 

Evan frowned. “We didn’t find any gold on you.”

Pulling the small coin purse from my pocket, I tossed it over to the blacksmith. “I got it from here.”

Evan looked inside the purse, then looked at me, confused. Shaking the pouch upside down, “You gave us all of it?” He tosses it back. “It’s empty.”

Reaching in with two fingers, I pulled out a silver coin and tossed it to Evan. “Only for you. It’s my, well…I guess you could say, my inheritance. Don’t have a clue how it works and don’t have a clue how much is in there. Could be nearly gone for all I know, but the money appears to me.”

Evan scoffed and tossed the coin back to me. Looking at the fire, I watched his smile turned to a near scowl. His jaw clenched tight. “Has to be nice to not have a care in the world.”

It was my turn to scoff. “Money doesn’t solve my problems.”

“Can’t hurt,” Evan added.

“How long…has your father been gone?”

Evan tossed the stick into the fire and laid on his side, turning his back to the flames.

Terrible question, Wendell. Hit a soft spot, I guess. 

After a minute, I did likewise, lying back on the ground. Thoughts of my mother, the funeral, listening to my father for days on end as he wept. Always unsure what we would do without mom’s love, her patience, and gentle guidance. 

It was hell.

“Well, I lost my mother a few years ago,” I said softly, “Everything changed. It’s…never been the same since.”

Evan didn’t respond.

“Thing is, nothing has worked out like people said it would,” I continued, speaking out loud, more to myself than the blacksmith. “When we buried her, people would come to my dad and I and tell us things would be alright…or that time will heal the wound. But you know what? It’s all a lie.”

The crackling of the fire sounded exceptionally loud amid the trees, the rippling water playing a steady tempo.

“It never gets better, Evan.” I put my hands under my head, breathing deeply and exhaling slowly. “Ever.”

Evan slowly rolled over to face me, but he remained silent.

“You know why?” I rambled on, staring up at the sky. “Because my mom owns that part of my heart. It belongs to her and time can’t fill that hole. Not time, not a person, nothing. I’ve learned that it won’t ever get better…I’ll just learn how  to cope.”

I choked back the memories and snuffled. “Some days are hell, and then others…not so bad.”

I flipped back over, putting my back to Evan and the fire. “Thanks for showing up, Evan, regardless of the reason. I’m pretty sure I would have gotten lost.”

Minutes passed. The warmth of the fire felt good. Now that I had company, I felt more confident that things would be ok. It wasn’t until I was on the verge of unconsciousness that I heard Evan whisper.

“You’re welcome.”

<— Read Previous Chapter | Read Next Chapter—>

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Author Notes

UPDATE: Sat, July 6th, 2024…noticed I missed an effect in the voiceover, so I re-edited it and reposted.

Thank you for reading this new episode from season 3 of Chronicles of a Hero.

Poor Wendell is going to need some people skills to get back to Chuck, Dax, and Alhannah. Its always a challenge when we are forced out of our comfort zones to survive. ….but usually good for us.

I was worried I wouldn’t have this story set up and mapped out with working so hard on The Underlings, but you should know that Wendell is my #1 story priority.

Always.

The rough drafts of each episode for this season are all complete, and I am making my pledge to do my best to provide the audio, also.

Jaime

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