《The Traveller [A Collection of Short Stories]》


 The Traveller - The Village in the Swamp

    <u>Log 1</u>


    <u>The Village in the Swamp</u>


    In a part of the land there was a large swamp with murky dark puddles and white mist that curled like the claws of a cat. The trees were tall and thick, with a canopy that loomed overhead, blocking out any trace of sunlight. A lonesome traveller was navigating an obscured path through those trees in the swamp. A traveller that was well accustomed to the encumbering journeys that the road brought with it. And he sought a destination among those dark mires, a haven where he could take refuge.


    Fae trod through the puddles, feeling the sordid water seeping up through the soles of his boots. The darkness around him brought with it a sort of eerie feeling that he was quite used to. Though he could feel the invisible eyes of the forest watching him from overhead, and hand-like icky reeds grasping his ankles with every step. If he was not careful, the place would swallow him up. And although he was quite confident he knew the way through these parts, one wrong turn could see that he was lost forever.


    He rounded several trees before the shrubs and the trunks cleared and the wet puddles gave way to hard barren dirt. Even though the mist did not disappear completely, it came to thin out a little. Before him was a secluded village with cosy houses, made of skewed logs and thatched roofs. The village was surrounded by gloomy trees, they hung tall overhead, with branches akin to crooked hands reaching out to take the life of something innocent. On its other side there was a small grey lake with a dock that was rotten and broken and that looked as though it hadn¡¯t been used in centuries. A tiny boat floated beside it, moored with a thin, withered rope.


    Fae brushed his medium length black hair back from over his eyes, and tightened the sword that was strapped to his back before he made his way into the midst of the little village. Previously on his travels he had crossed paths with an explorer who had claimed to have stumbled upon the secret village in the swamp by chance. Fae had been told that it was inhabited by strange people, hermits who had a peculiar way of living. Fae had heard circulating rumours of the village, but most people dismissed them as exaggerated stories at best, and at worst they were tales told by parents to discourage children from venturing into the swamp. Nobody was senseless enough to actually go searching for the village, and so the stories remained just as they were, rumours. So when Fae met someone who had actually been to the village, he paid the man handsomely for directions and prayed that he wasn¡¯t being conned. Fae, was a Traveller, and Travellers had a particular reputation throughout the land ¨C but even so, there were many swindlers who¡¯d happily deceive royalty for a quick bit of money.


    The man gave him very specific directions, and had warned him that the people of the village were sceptical of outsiders, and it may take him a while to win their trust. It seemed that the man indeed had not been lying about the village itself; but the story of its inhabitants were another question. Fae had come expecting to have to put on a show, to convince the people that he was harmless and simply curious, but it was becoming more and more obvious, as he observed the village, that it was not inhabited at all. The thick smoke that hung overhead seemed to watch him with ever-growing intensity.


    Fae tried knocking on several doors, and after no answer he began searching the houses intently. Nothing was damaged, there was no sign of a bandit raid or any other kind of battle, yet there was dust on the floors, cobwebs in the corners of the ceilings and grime had begun to grow in the cracks of the floorboards. Whatever had happened, it was clear that it had happened some time ago.


    He searched three more of the cottages before he ventured to the centre of the lifeless village, and began to silently ponder what had gone on. And also what his next move would be. Almost nobody believed in the existence of this place, so it was hardly plausible that there had been an attack on the people. And the folk here hated the outside world ¨C so there was no way they would have left. It was as though life here had simply just stopped. Suddenly, a sound like that of creaking wood awoke him from his thoughts. He spun around quicker than a frightened deer, turned and drew his sword with the same motion.


    What he saw before him was an older lady in a tattered gown hobbling over the balcony of one of the cottages. Fae didn''t lower his guard. The lady stared at him as though being thrown into a sudden shock at seeing another human; her gaze brushed over him, smoothly, up and down. Fae stood equally still, tightly grasping his weapon.


    "Come on," she said eventually with a wave of her hand. Fae didn''t move.


    "This way," she turned and walked back into her cottage leaving the door open, a wide welcome for Fae.


    It was then that Fae noticed a bright yellow glow protruding from her windows. Odd, as he hadn''t noticed it earlier. Fae sheathed his sword, pulled his pack up over his shoulders and hurried after her.


    Fae was surprised to see a crackling fire alive in the hearth of the fireplace, and indeed its warmth filled the room, blanketing him in a soft cosy heat that felt out of place in such gloomy ghost town. Unlike the other cottages he had explored, there seemed to be no evidence of decay around the living room. Everything was clean, fresh cushions had been placed on the seats around the dining tables, and the scent of flowering roses was fragrant in the air. The lady turned as he entered, and gestured for him to take a seat at the kitchen table.


    "Are you going to tell me what happened here?" Fae asked after he had sat down.


    The lady moved back and forth through the kitchen. She lifted a large metal teapot off from over the flickering flames of the oven and proceeded to pour two cups of black tea.


    "It was horrible. Horrible," she replied as she moved over placing a cup in front of Fae, "I almost don''t want to talk about it."


    "Almost? So you will tell me, won''t you?"


    "I''ll tell you," she said, "if you''re brave enough to hear it."


    At that moment, the door swung shut of its own accord with no kind of wind evident in its wake.


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    "Yes, I''d like to hear it," Fae replied without a second thought, his curiosity suddenly welling up and overtaking his sense of rationality.


    "It all happened on one meagre day. It was a misty day. It is usually misty around here but the morning she came it was exceptionally misty. It wasn¡¯t a special day for our people, it was a day like any other. The men had risen early to forage and hunt. When they''d returned they began to till the ground and sharpen their weapons. Others, like myself, spent the morning caring for the sick and looking after the younglings. It was so sudden. This beautiful maiden stumbled into our village, all weary and heavy laden. Oh, I tell you, she could have been mistaken for a princess. Her black hair flowed about her, and her lips were as red as blood. Some say that her eyes were that same colour. Blood red. But others couldn''t see it, instead they saw a beautiful sea blue that sparkled in the streaming rays of sun. I knew they were delusional then. Since when did this town ever get any sunlight. But few saw the venom in her tongue and the deadly poison that protruded from it when she weaved her words about. I did though. I saw it clear as day. Yes, yes. I did. I did indeed. And when she strode on in, when she came through, she claimed to be a lonely woman who had lost her way. The folk crowded around at the sight of an outsider. They pointed. Whispered under their breath. It was a rare sight indeed. Our cheftian was young, but considered to be wise by the people. He came forward to deal with her, but she collapsed into his arms. Hogwash I cried. My dear friend Ophir stood next to me watching the chieftain support her on his bare shoulders. It''s all hogwash, I told them. She''s a faker. A swindler. But people were quite confused and not so quick to follow me. There was something odd at work.


    Many took a liking to her quite quickly, though some were still suspicious at that time. But all those suspicions blew out the window before too long. I was the only one who was overly wary, probably why I''m still here now. That''s right! We didn''t take her in the way we normally take in outsiders. Should''a killed her right there and then if you ask me, but instead the chieftain took her graciously into his home where he cared for her. But what could I have done about it? They came out about an hour later. Nothing to see here folks, get back to it, he called. Many of us were loitered around in front of his home, desperate to know more of what was going on. Some of the young boys had even resolved to peep in through the windows. But we never really opposed what our leader said. So we did just that. We got back to it.


    The lady called herself Ephra. She began living with the chieftain and although he claimed he was happier for it, with the coming weeks the lines on his forehead stretched wide and the bags under his eyes were as grey as the swamp. There was never any official news that they were betrothed, or that there was any kind of love affair going on between them for that matter. But even so, she never left his side and he did everything she told him. The others didn''t care. We had a way of surviving, a way of cultivating the land, but she soon changed it all. She''d walk behind the chief every day, following him wherever he went...or was he following her? I don''t know really. But they would stop each worker as they went, and she would speak to them. Her voice was usually calm and soothing. It made you love her. It made you want to do anything she told you. Oh my, she would say gently, do it this way and the crops will yield fourfold. Do it that way and you shall have it finished twice as fast. The chiefain would stand behind her nodding the whole time."


    Fae felt a wave of drowsiness come over him at that moment, though he forced himself to listen just as intently, still ever curious as to how this story would end.


    "After a while, her advice blossomed. Her ways brought about produce that exceeded our expectations. Food was in abundance and wine was plentiful. Everyone was so ecstatic about it, that they didn''t notice the chiefain''s hair was becoming grey, and wrinkles had carved their way over his body. He still wore a broad smile though. Her magical words had permeated their minds, altering their thoughts and twisting them until she had become their god.


    The more time that passed the more things changed. Nobody questioned her. Everybody adored her. Except for me. I spoke out against her. She''s a fraud I said. She''s an evil ghoulish witch. I was speaking to one of my friends, Elah, you see. But she was under her power too and I found a crowd of my close friends and family crowded in front of my house less than half an hour later. They held torches, clubs and swords. They shook their fists and spat. Elah told us what you said, they called, Elah told us how you insulted Ephra. But speak of the devil, Ephra appeared next to me, out of nowhere as if by magic like the witch that she was.


    Now, now, Ephra calmed the mob, let''s not be hasty, nor quick to judge. I''m sure she has her reasons for being suspicious."


    She? Fae thought, no name?


    The lady continued.


    "The mob dispersed, obeying her orders like mindless zombies. When they had all gone, Ephra turned to me, she looked me in the eyes with a wide grin. Her eyes flared cunningly like hot embers and they pierced into my soul. I stepped back but I didn''t stop. I told her exactly that, too. I told her I wouldn''t stop. I was hoping I''d be able to talk some sense into someone at least, but instead I was exiled, for treason a few days later. Can you believe that! Me, exiled, from my own home. I''d never left this place my entire life so I had to stay quite close to the village to survive.


    The chieftain was twenty-two years old, but by now he was hunched over and constantly out of breath. The village folk were beginning to look different too. Their hair was also grey and their yellow teeth were falling out. Ephra was the new chief now. She had everyone line up every morning and bring to her three-quarters of whatever profit they had made the previous day, whether grain or other useful items. The townsfolk didn''t talk to each other anymore. No conversation, no festivals or celebrations. If they weren''t working for her they were inside doing nothing. The food they ate and the drink that they indulged in were cursed. It wore them away until they disappeared entirely. And then Ephra left, and I came back to an empty village."


    Fae felt his eyes close and his head began to spin but he forced them open stubbornly. The woman stood and turned her back to him.


    "And that''s how this village became the way it is now. I must say, I was quite surprised to find you here. Would you like some biscuits before you continue on your travels, Traveller?"


    The old lady reached up to a high cupboard, still facing away from him. Fae had silently risen from his chair drawn his sword before she''d opened it. Then with no noise he stepped forward until he was only a pace behind her. The pain came suddenly as the blade of the sword protruded through the old lady''s back. She gasped. Fae pushed the sword down harder until the blade skewered the lady through her stomach. Fae pulled the sword back and the lady fell sideways, drowning in a pool of her own blood. He watched her features change before his eyes. The wrinkles on her face smoothened. Her grey hair became black and her lips were as red as the blood she drank.


    Fae searched the Ephra''s place for a while before he found a secret trap door. It led into an underground cavern where he found the dead bodies of the villagers he had heard so much about. They were withered and cursed.


    The swamplands surrounded Fae once again as he left the village behind. When he had come some way out, he stumbled over what he thought was a large log. But as he examined it closer, he could see that it was a dead body. The wrangled body of an old lady who looked like she''d been wandering the forest aimlessly. The old lady Fae thought to himself. There was nothing he could do so he continued onward leaving the swamp behind.

 The City of Religion

    They bow by the wayside and listen to all the words preached in the town square. Crowds of them gathered under the tiny sun. For they themselves are bigger than the sun, and more important than all things ancient. They believe only what they want to. To them truth is indeed lies and lies are indeed truth. They are as mindless as those who wonder the lowly plains; and as eager for pleasure as those who feed upon them. That is certain, otherwise they would know quite well that the sun is indeed large.


    The sun was bright, it shone down and amplified the colour of the cream stone bricks that made up the streets and the buildings of the city. Most of them were two or three stories tall, and were tightly packed with narrow streets and alleyways. But in the middle of the town, where Fae now found himself, the streets were set apart and formed a clearing to make way for the large town square which was bustling with noise. The voices intermingled tighter than a cord of cotton that had been formed into a jumper, until they were nothing more than a wave that swept seamlessly through the air becoming something incomprehensible to Fae. But Fae wasn¡¯t around for eavesdropping. It was prime time for trading in the city, and Fae had gone out to do just that. There were markets with grain and fruit and nuts and raisins. Stalls with weapons and tools tended to by hardy blacksmiths. Other merchants sold shoes and garments. Fae however had not come to buy, but to sell. And to sell something that only existed in writing, for Fae was a Traveller by trade and sold information about the most secluded and dangerous places that many brave knights dare not venture to. This was why what he had to sell was so valuable.


    Indeed not more than an hour later, Fae¡¯s yield had been a pocket full of gold which he hoped would last him until he arrived at the next town. Shoulders bumped carelessly against him as he pushed through the crowds towards the inn where he had hired a room, with only a few apologetic looks cast his way. The inn he was staying at was built into a narrow lane with walls towering high on either side. Few people seemed to wander these parts, although it felt like he¡¯d had to swim through a sea of them to get there. The inn was quiet, he strode past the bar then down the hallway and unlocked the door to his room. He unstrapped his sword and fell asleep almost before his head hit the soft feather filled mattress.


    Fae woke, a little startled, from the sound of a loud gong. Its chime seemed to reverberate throughout the town. Again he heard it. And again. Three times in total. Although his head was hazy, it was obvious that something important was going on in the town. Travellers and townsfolk alike oft referred to this place as The City of Religion and he hoped that what was happening now may give him some inkling as to why. He quickly tightened his garments, strapped on his sword, threw his pack over his shoulders and was on his way.


    The streets were almost empty, and the few people who were about whisked past in a hurry. Fae followed them eagerly. They led him to a large crowd standing in front of a podium. Upon the podium was a speaker. The speaker looked wise in years, and was dressed in long flowing robes. He moved gracefully about gesturing to and fro with his hands. And he spoke elegantly with a soft voice. Fae took his journal from his pack along with a traveller¡¯s quill and a vile of ink, and began to scribe what he heard.


    The bell rings and the crowds gather he wrote, they stand before a podium before a man who speaks.


    He speaks of wealth.


    He speaks of gain.


    He speaks of health.


    No toil, no pain.


    There are no worries, he says. One may do as one may please. Eat, drink, be merry.


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    Good will come, for no danger awaits. None at all.


    They cheer. They cry amen. They want to follow him.


    And I see why he is popular; for even I am compelled to join them.


    Yet I will not for I know better.


    I will not follow one who tells me simply what I want to hear.


    Fae stayed for a while longer before he thought to explore the rest of the town in search of any other kind of religious gathering. The more information he had about the place, the more information he would be able to sell when he journeyed to different towns. He found another gathering. But only one. And very small. A handful of people, twenty, maybe thirty, standing before a smaller podium, with a man speaking in almost exactly the same way as the other had. Though this man was less elegant. He wore rags instead of robes, and his words were different.


    Fae was eager to record the words of this man too.


    He speaks of wisdom and warning.


    Stay sharp and alert he says.


    There is danger coming.


    Stay sharp and alert he repeats.


    Lest you die.


    There is a way out; he says, but the road is narrow and its ways are harsh.


    You will be hated and spat on.


    Chased and persecuted.


    It will cost your life; but in doing so you will also gain life.


    I beseech you, I do not lie.


    I do not promise you an easy life, but rather the truth.


    The gatherings lasted an hour in total. Fae stayed at the smaller one, and when everything had finished, the preacher began packing up his things. Fae approached him curiously before he was able to leave.


    ¡°What is it Traveller?¡± the preacher asked him as he approached.


    Fae scratched his chin.


    ¡°I must ask,¡± Fae started, ¡°why you speak the way you do? Why do you preach in such a way that makes you unpopular with the crowds?¡±


    ¡°Because I must speak the truth. Speaking a lie will remain a lie, even if we all believe it to be the truth.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Fae replied saying no more.


    ¡°Farewell then.¡± The preacher threw a rugged cloak over his shoulders and disappeared into the city.


    Fae returned his key to the keeper of the inn, and left the town shortly before sunset. The sombre dirt road he travelled upon wound its way along the side of a tall craggy cliff which capitulated to a magnificent view of the valley below.  On its other side a wide field stretched out as far as the eye could see, with the blades of grass swaying under the red sky, almost as if rehearsing a well-practised dance. The road seemed empty at first and Fae speculated that he wouldn¡¯t meet anyone until he arrived at the next city. But soon after a shadow appeared tottering through the open field, disturbing the grass from its dance. The figure was short, and prodded a long stick at the ground in front of him. Odd, Fae thought at first, though as the figure came further into the fading sunlight, Fae could see that the man was blind. The blind man continued until he¡¯d crossed the fields and reached the dirt road, but he didn¡¯t stop. He walked right on forward toward the edge of the cliff.


    Fae scuffled and ran to catch up to the man who was some way ahead of him ¨C when he was within arm¡¯s reach, he took the man by the arm and pulled him back. The man, clearly frightened and taken off guard, jumped and swung his stick sideways in an attack on who he thought to be a thief. Fae ducked cleanly under the swing and stepped back.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to hurt you,¡± Fae said.


    The man stopped and seemed to compose himself, at least to some extent.


    ¡°Then why did you take my arm so harshly?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Because there is a cliff before you and you are about to walk straight off its edge, then surely you¡¯ll die.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean! There is no cliff!¡± the blind man said.


    ¡°I assure you there is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been walking along this route for days, if there was a cliff, somebody would have warned me by now.¡±


    ¡°I can tell that you truly believe that there is no cliff in front of you,¡± Fae said, ¡°yet your beliefs do not change reality. Whether you believe it or not, if you keep walking the consequences will be the same. You will die.¡±


    The man shook his head in a ridiculing way, and then stepped forward over the cliff¡¯s edge and fell to his death.


    Fae stopped and pondered in silence for a moment, a little taken aback. Then he began to continue along his way towards the next city. That man had been blind and had fallen to his death because he believed a lie to be truly true; yet Fae knew that many who had perfect sight would suffer the same fate.

 Log 3: The Forest and the Mist

    <u>The Forest and the Mist </u>


    A sweetness like honey drips over your tongue, bidding you forward until the icy mist grasps your toes. Those memories you once held dear crumble under the weight of a weightless fog, but you can''t tell, for you are still tasting the honey.


    Fae walked along the endless dirt path that stretched as far as he could see. The brown road snaked in and out of the rising hills and the fragrant scent of the red fairy flowers, that dotted the luscious fields, was fresh in the air. The breeze took with it a wave of their petals every time it blew through, a gift from nature to nature for the birds were delighted by the pleasant wind, and the gorgeous swirling colours of the petals that followed in its wake. Indeed, they sang a majestic song that could not be rivalled by any other troubadour Fae had ever heard. And as much as Fae was enjoying the charming scenery around him, Fae could not help but begin to get a little bored. The road he had been travelling on had been almost the same for the past seven days.


    At first the peaceful journey had seemed like a godsend, a break from the many dangerous toils he so often faced, but there was something different about Travellers. Something within their hearts made them curious and unnaturally attracted to danger, there was something that made them want to venture to the furthest shadows of the land, giving them an unusual desire to uncover secrets that did not want to be uncovered. And it was that same feeling that was now welling up within Fae, niggling him to stray from the beaten path. But if there was one other thing that Travellers were famous for, even more than their curiosity and knack for danger, it was their wisdom and discerning judgement. For one could not survive long as a Traveller without those qualities. And it was that wisdom which now spoke to Fae. He wanted to leave the road and lose himself in the fields, lose himself in adventure, but he waited ¨C for he knew his adventure would soon come.


    A small silence lapsed as the birds took a break from their song, a silence which Fae relished for a moment, but he soon broke it and began to sing a song with his own voice. It was a song that had originated from a town close to this part of the land, and a song about a certain forest that Fae believed was actually very near to the road he was now travelling upon. He opened his mouth and a voice emitted from his throat that was not as beautiful as he would have liked it to be.


    Oh boy who wanders skies and seas


    Where be it that thou dwell


    In hope that you'' be wanderin¡¯ free


    I ring this solemn bell


    On beaten paths an upturn''d trees


    We''d not find you there


    The wood did truly swallow thee


    A fate in no way fair


    Years and years we searched for you


    And no glory in this loss


    We''d hoped that it in no way true


    A line we could not cross


    The forest laughed and laughed at us


    It had got him in its grasp


    It laughed until we were but dust


    It laughed a ghastly rasp


    For now we mourn all day and night


    And forbid that wretched place


    That any should go near that sight


    And vanish with no trace


    He stopped a few lines short of the end. Fae wished there was a lute playing along with his grating voice, but then again, he knew he was doing the fabled song no justice. There were a few other songs that described the boy who had gotten forever lost in the woods, though this ballad was by far his favourite. He considered it a treat if ever he heard a bard or troubadour playing it in any of the inns he ever stayed at.


    He was walking for only a little while longer before he came to a fork in the road, and the road split into two different directions. The path that led off to the right was wide, smooth and had clearly been used as a way of regular travel. The one that led off to the left was overgrown with weeds and thorny bushes and was undoubtedly seldom used, though the dirt path itself was still clear enough among the calamity of the flora. He faltered in his decision for a moment, but the left path called for him lustfully to tread upon it. Fae couldn''t help himself. He gave in to the temptation and set off along it. The path didn''t prove as hard to navigate as he first thought it would, although slower going than a wider road ¨C he still managed to push forward.


    Fae knew this path would soon lead to a forest, probably the same forest from the ballad. He was not mistaken, for before too long trees began to sprout around him and thicken as they went along. He started to notice the song of the birds disappear behind him, and the shades of the canopy stretch wider until it completely blotted out the blue sky. And then there was the mist. It appeared out of nowhere and curled up around him, soothingly icy, forming white hands around his arms that pulled him gently forward. Soon, the silky vapour had completely surrounded him and everything, apart from the nearest tree trunk, was completely white. The mist was appeasing to look at, Fae found himself being mesmerised by its appearance for hours on end. Although he did his best to keep his wits about him; his sword hand ready to snatch up his weapon in a moment''s notice, the forest seemed so dreamy, and he wondered how long he could stay awake.


    The soft thudding of his light footsteps pattered beneath him. On and on. And on. Fae didn''t know how long he was wandering through the forest. He suspected that it wasn''t for too long, but he did find that he had fallen into a ditzy daydream at one point and another ¨C and so Fae knew that it was quite plausible that he had been wondering for a matter of hours, rather than minutes.


    The mood of his travels was much different to what it had been earlier on in the day; whilst before the land seemed to be dancing joyfully, now a dreary stillness had settled in its place. There was no calming breeze and no wonderful scent floating in the air. All the teeming life had now disappeared, along with any of Fae''s previous desire to sing. All that he was focusing on now was his way forward. Step by step. His mind processed this thought over and over again. Step by step. And he carried on like this for some time before he came to notice that the mist was beginning to thin a little. It happened quickly, Fae stepped around one of the trees and found that he had come through a wall of mist and could suddenly see well past his hands and feet. He had wandered into a clearing, with the trees of the forest forming a large circle around an old, two-storey house. The fog did not seem to protrude into the clearing, except in very thin whisps. Instead, it was mostly simmering among the corners of the circling wood and blocking the sky with a ghostly white body. The house before him was made of murky wood, it was shabby but also still intact. At the front was a porch that stuck out awkwardly with some steps leading up to the front door.


    Fae continued forward, the silence eerily settling in. He approached the house calmly, the tips of his fingers smoothing over the hilt of his sword strapped to his back. The touch of the cool steel gave him a little comfort that permeated his heart like a warm wave and began to undulate. For he had seen much worst before, and he refused to let this forest get the best of him. But soon an unnerving feeling crept over him naturally, and then he felt the warmth being sapped away. After that there was nothing. It was as though he had forgotten how he should be feeling about a place like this, he didn''t even feel unsettled anymore. The old wood creaked under his feet as he climbed the three steps up to the porch. At the other end was a slightly rotten door, that had been chipped on the side and cracked through the middle. He approached it and turned the rusty handle, it opened with a loud creak. He found himself in a small hallway. There was a dusty mantlepiece on the side and three crooked hooks for hanging coats. Several candles hung in places along the walls, their wicks burnt char black, and the wax melted halfway down. Fae guessed that they hadn¡¯t been used in a while.


    The hallway led down into an open space that was furnished with two cushioned lounges and a fireplace that housed nothing but crumbled ash. A staircase spiralled upwards towards the second storey, and the stained windows looked out into the whiteness of the mist. The place was oddly intact for something that Fae guessed was seldom used.


    Fae ventured into the living room and then the kitchen. It looked surprisingly similar to any regular kitchen, apart from the natural signs of wear and tear. It was much more preserved than the other parts of the house, the oven was blackened on the inside, the benches were wide and smooth, and several pots hung upon hooks on the walls. There were even spices in the cupboards and cutlery in the draws. Fae walked around the room even more fascinated now. Most of the windows upon the walls were uncovered, but the fog of the forest only let in very milky sunlight.


    The room adjacent to the kitchen was a large dining area. There was a brown rug in the middle, a wooden table and several chairs, as well as a chandelier with unlit candles. The mantlepieces were quite bare, and there was very little d¨¦cor around what should have been a grand home. Fae began to move towards the spiralling staircase when he suddenly saw a shadow move in the corner of his eye. His sword made a sharp zing as he tore it from the sheath on his back, and he held it carefully as he spun around to face the dimly illuminated kitchen (from where he had noticed the shadow). He pointed the sword forward, however he began to lower the weapon once he realised that the shadow was actually a small boy. No older than ten, Fae guessed. He wore ragged clothing, had short blonde hair and a blank expression on his face that Fae thought was quite uncanny. The boy stared up at him as though he were completely lost in thought. But he wasn''t. Fae lowered his weapon, but didn''t lower his guard and bent down onto one knee so that he was eye level with the mysterious boy.


    "Hello there," Fae said.


    A few moments passed before the boy replied.


    "Hello."


    Fae feigned an attempt at a smile.


    "Can you tell me how a young boy like yourself ended up getting lost in a place like this? I don''t doubt it''s well past noon. Won''t your parents be worried for you?"


    The boy shrugged.


    "I don''t have parents. I don''t think I do."


    Fae looked into the boy''s blank blue eyes with curiosity. In one way, this explanation did make sense ¨C after all who, other than an orphaned boy, would venture alone into a potentially dangerous forest such as this one. But then again, Fae suspected that things were not as they seemed.


    "What¡¯s your name?¡± Fae asked.


    The boy shrugged again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the boy replied with a cold, monotoned voice.


    ¡°Where are you from?¡± Fae asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the boy replied with an unchanging demeanour.


    ¡°There¡¯s a town not too far from here. Riverton ¨C or Riverwood, as some in the Upper North Lands call it. Have you heard of it?¡±


    This time the boy didn¡¯t even reply but simply shrugged. Fae scratched his chin. There was something magical about this place, something that made him wary and cautious. And although he was eager to write down his findings and even discover more of its workings, Fae knew he had to leave immediately.


    ¡°Will you take my hand?¡± Fae asked holding out his open palm for the boy to hold. The boy clasped his hand gently, and Fae led him through the house. The shadows that had earlier kept to their places in the corners of the room had now begun to creep over the walls and floorboards. Fae led the boy through the living room and down the dusty hallway. When he opened the front door and found himself on the front porch, he was surprised to find that it was already dark. That was odd. It had seemed to be only a few hours after midday when he had gone into the house and now night was upon them. Was the forest playing tricks on him? But it was just then that something else caught his attention, a lantern hung on the porch glowing with flames; seemingly lit of its own accord. For Fae had not heard nor sensed anyone walking among the house. Fae turned behind him and took another look into the hallway through the door he now held open. Several of the candles that hung in their places on the walls were now alight, flickering with bright blazes at their wicks that created dark dancing shapes from the furniture around them. Although Fae was still calm, this strengthened his resolve to be out of the forest. Fae closed the door, led the boy along the small porch and across the clearing towards the forest. Thin strands of mist swooped down upon them, sending a cold chill down Fae¡¯s spine and causing him to shudder.


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    The forest wall edged closer. Fae had nearly made it to the first of the trunks before the boy spoke.


    ¡°It won¡¯t let you out.¡±


    Fae looked down at the boy.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The forest. It won¡¯t let you out.¡±


    ¡°How long have you been here for? In this forest?¡± Fae asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the boy replied.


    Fae ignored the boy and stepped forward. Almost immediately as he rounded the first tree, the mist swirled up around him, overtaking his vision until all he saw was white. Then he felt the boy¡¯s grasp slip out of his own hand and disappear. The fog tore at him coldly, pulling him in all kinds of directions, until he almost lost his bearings. Suddenly he began to forget what he was doing and where he was trying to go. Before he knew it, he was standing back in the same forest clearing, with the same old rickety house in its midst. Only this time the boy stood on the balcony watching him, a shadowed silhouette from the lamplight that shone behind him.


    Fae turned around ¨C the wall of trees loomed high above him, guarded by the mist at its edges. Fae walked back into the forest. The fog twirled about him, exactly as it had before and he only yielded the same results.


    After Fae found himself back in the clearing for the second time, he approached the boy who still stood staring out from the balcony.


    ¡°I told you it wouldn¡¯t let you leave,¡± the boy said.


    Fae slept outside that night. The sky was completely blurred out so that there were absolutely no traces of the stars and constellations. The Sylvan Satyr was a constellation that Fae longed to see, as it would help him get at least some sense of direction. But even the moon was barely visible and in no way beautiful. With the soft and dewy grass seeping soggy water into his thin layer of bedding, he sat upright and held his journal out in front of him, but for the first time in a long time, the Traveller forgot what he ought to write. He held the journal in his hands and stared at its blank pages for minutes and minutes before giving up. He flipped the thin book closed and saw Fae written in bold letters that had been etched onto the leather cover. He wondered who Fae was. The thought didn¡¯t last long. He packed up his ink jar and quill, then let the mist softly soothe him into a deep sleep.


    Fae woke to faded sunlight. He saw the old house in front of him, the wild grass, and the forest that circled the clearing, obscured a little by the dewy clouds that had fallen from their place in the sky. He had a vague recollection of his venture into this forest clearing on the previous day, the wandering, and the curious prying. His memories began to swirl up to the surface of his mind, but something bade him let them go. He clung lightly to that familiar feeling of discovering the mysterious house, meeting a strange boy. Had that been him, or someone else? The Traveller had an affinity for such a journey, as if it was somehow a part of who he was, and yet. Let them go. The voice was calming, and relaxing. And so he obeyed; feeling as though this was something that he should do.


    Fae wandered endlessly around the clearing for the rest of the day. There was nothing special about it, and after he had done a full circle, he had forgotten the reason he had circled it in the first place, and so he did another loop, and another. The boy joined him, staring out from the balcony for a while. Then he would disappear back into the house.  Fae roamed aimlessly for the rest of the day until the foggy light turned into darkness. And then, purely out of habit, Fae took out his journal, opened it to the first page and began reading.


    On the 4<sup>th</sup> day of July, in the year that Harpus was governor of the Southern Provinces.


    The caves roll around in wonder and fascination; there are caverns that grow rare herbs, and the waters here can cure many illnesses. Though some of the caves are infested with goblins, and there are rabid wolves in others. I was almost wounded, but narrowly escaped with my life. I got back to town, rested, and left the next day without even buying or selling.


    Fae flipped the page over and continued reading.


    8<sup>th</sup> day of August, in the year that Harpus was governor of the Southern Provinces.


    I discovered the wizard that everyone is afraid of, in the wild parts of the mountains, a day¡¯s journey from the town. A mere healer. He greeted me and offered hospitality. He assured me that he would not ever have done anything to curse the town folk. Plagues come and go ¨C some more deadly than others. I believe him too. I have no reason not to. The elven kind are reviled in many parts of the land, and this elf was indeed full-blooded, so it was extremely plausible that some people would want to blame him for something he did not do.


    The Traveller closed the journal while thinking about these events that seemed oddly familiar to him ¨C though they were somewhat dream-like. Could he have been the one who had written them? He thought it over for a long time, and although he couldn¡¯t decide whether they were his own writings or whether they had even happened at all, he once again saw something written on the front of the journal that he recognised extremely well. Fae. At once remembered that this was his name, and at that moment he was weakly gripped by a small sense of reality. He flipped the journal over to a blank page, took out a quill and jar of ink and scribbled over the empty page.


    My name is Fae. My name is Fae. My name is Fae. My name is Fae.


    His name was Fae, and although the soft voice returned to him and told him gently that it wasn¡¯t true ¨C told him smoothly to forget his thoughts, Fae decided otherwise. He decided not to listen to that voice. He gripped the leather in the vices of his strong hands, holding it dearly as though it were the only portal left back to his soul. Then the memories, little by little, began to rain down.


    The next day was a day the same as the one before, and the one before that. Unyielding thick white mist blocked the sun. The grass was dewy and wet, and Fae felt the cool whisp of the morning sear through his thick coat as if he were not wearing one at all. Fae sat still on the grass ¨C deep in thought for some time, staring off into the distant trees that swayed ever so slightly with a non-existent wind. The grass was a little comfortable beneath him, though the splintery wood of the house jarred up against his back. His memory was still blurry; however, he kept hold of some of the stray threads that threatened to be pulled away. Most importantly, he didn¡¯t let go of his journal, and he kept repeating his name over and over in his head.


    I am Fae, I am Fae. I am Fae! Fae! I am Fae.


    Fae couldn¡¯t tell how much time had passed before the young boy came outside to join him. Time didn¡¯t seem to flow like normal within these mysterious woods, there was night and day, but there was something strange about the way the sun moved. Fae stood when he heard the steps of the young boy upon the creaking wood, drew himself up and took a seat beside him on the porch. The boy didn¡¯t really take much notice of him.


    ¡°Hello again,¡± Fae said.


    The boy turned to look at him, quite confused by the sudden greeting.


    ¡°Have we met?¡± the boy asked.


    ¡°Indeed, we have,¡± Fae said, ¡°but you hadn¡¯t told me your name. Might I ask what it is?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember,¡± the boy replied, his face as blank as ever.


    Fae prodded for more information.


    ¡°Tell me something about yourself. Anything.¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t much worth telling,¡± the boy replied.


    ¡°How about we start with breakfast. What did you have for breakfast this morning?¡± Fae asked.


    ¡°Breakfast? That was so long ago!¡± the boy remarked, ¡°how do you expect me to remember something like that?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t so long ago, not as long as you might think.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but it was so very long ago,¡± the boy replied.


    Fae questioned the boy all day, and even a little into the night but with very little success. He had an inkling he knew what to do; he had an indication that he was on his way to leaving this forest ¨C but the boy was far, so very far, even from passing the shadows of the trees. For he was stuck in its vice and so ingrained into the forest that it seemed there was little that could be done for him. Maybe the boy had been here for longer than he had first thought. But how much longer? a few months? A year maybe? Fae knew he must leave before too long. If he couldn¡¯t do what he had to the next day, then he would have to continue onwards. The forest was already beginning the penetrate the mental barriers he had set up in his mind. And he wondered how long he would be able to hold out against its enticing voice.


    The parchment of his leather-bound journal was smooth and dry. He flicked through the pages precariously, there were many inkblots that stained the edges, and the writing hadn¡¯t been written with much care. It was, however, clearly legible. As he turned another page, something caught his eye, something that brought back what seemed like an old memory. The boy had disappeared into one of the rooms of the house. Fae searched for him frantically and found him on the second floor facing one of the walls, looking out the window.


    ¡°Have you ever heard the story about the boy who got himself lost in a forest somewhere close to these parts?¡±


    The boy turned. There was a slight change in his expression ¨C barely noticeable. A flicker of the eyebrow, maybe, a few extra blinks. Fae couldn¡¯t point it out directly, but he knew it was there.


    ¡°He wandered too far in. They never found him. It may even have been this very forest. They wrote ballads about him. The bards have sung his story far and wide.¡±


    Like usual, the boy stared for a while, but this time he didn¡¯t answer. Instead he looked up at Fae with eyes that didn¡¯t know how to reply. Fae could tell that the boy was searching his feelings, and that he was confused with inner turmoil.


    ¡°The boy,¡± Fae said, ¡°do you remember his story? Maybe you came here in search of him. You¡¯d certainly not find him for he has surely withered by now.¡±


    ¡°The boy. I don¡¯t remember the story but¡­¡±


    Fae bent down onto one knee.


    ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But my name¡­is Cato.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Very good. The ancient elven name Cato, means ¡®to know all¡¯. Tell me Cato, how much more can you remember about yourself?¡±


    ¡°Not much. Not much at all.¡±


    ¡°Well, now you know your name. And that¡¯s a good start.¡±


    Fae looked out the window. It was as dark as ever. Fae rummaged through the house for something, anything that he could use to lead the boy. As if fate was bending to his wishes, he found a rope in one of the drawers next to the bed. Or was the place taunting him? Was the place trying to tell him that nothing he did would help him ¨C or the boy. Fae didn¡¯t care.


    Cato didn¡¯t move from the same dark spot in which Fae had left him. When Fae felt as though he had done everything he could to prepare, he took Cato¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Do you still remember your name?¡± Fae asked.


    Cato nodded.


    ¡°Then let us be off from this wretched place,¡± Fae led Cato out of the house, and up to the edge of the treeline. There he tied one end of the rope around his own wrist, and the other end of the rope around Cato¡¯s own wrist. He knew that Cato had to navigate the forest on his own, but Fae couldn¡¯t help tying a lead, just for good measure.


    ¡°Let us go forward. And don¡¯t forget who you are. The forest has power over you by tempting you to forget yourself, but it will not force you to relinquish your memories. Ultimately it is your decision. Don¡¯t listen to it and don¡¯t lose yourself to it,¡± Fae said. He was becoming more and more certain that he would be able to get out. Cato on the other hand ¨C well Fae didn¡¯t know how much progress he would make. Only the boy himself would know that.


    Fae stepped forward, and Cato followed sheepishly. Immediately the mist swirled up in circles around him, the icy cold cutting through his thick travelling garments like sharpened daggers. The mist thickened and thickened until all he could see was white. Deep, deep white. Fae continued to walk forward; the mist penetrated his mind ¨C but Fae did not give in. He held onto himself and continued to remember who he was. The journey out was almost the same as his journey in. Time flowed in a funny way. Fae wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d been walking for minutes, hours or days. Eventually, though, the mist started to thin out. He began to see the trunks of the trees around him, and then before he knew it ¨C Fae had stepped out of the forest and into an open, sunny field. The red fairy flowers grew around him, and he could smell their beautiful familiar scent that filled him with an extraordinary feeling of relief. He closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh. It was like a weight had been lifted from his mind, a weight of forgetfulness. Everything seemed clearer now.


    Fae looked around in search of Cato. Fae followed the line of the rope from where it was tied around his wrist. It snaked through the green clover-filled fields until¡­the other end was torn. It didn¡¯t look as though the boy was coming out. He felt a wave of disappointment come over him. Fae thought to return to the forest in search of the boy; after all, he had discovered how to leave, but the wiser part of Fae, the part that had kept him alive all these years, told him that returning a second time would probably give the forest a stronger hold over him. There may not be much more that could be done. Fae turned toward the open fields, ready to be on his way, but something stopped him. A soft set of footsteps trod upon the grass behind him. Fae turned once again to face the menacing forest. Out of the mist came a small figure, a boy. Cato. The boy laughed and ran forward, Fae bent down onto one knee as the boy bounded toward him.


    ¡°You made it,¡± Fae smiled.


    ¡°Indeed!¡±


    ¡°And your memories have returned?¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, kind of. They¡¯re a little unclear. I feel like I¡¯ve been asleep for a long, long time. But I remember much of it. I remember that I was playing in front of the forest with my friends. We had been told not to venture into these woods, but I was so curious! Mama and papa must be extremely worried for me. I¡¯ll be in a lot of trouble when we get home. They¡¯ll send me to bed early, and I¡¯ll not be allowed any sweet food.¡±


    Fae laughed.


    ¡°By the sounds of it, you may indeed grow up to become a Traveller one day. Let¡¯s get you home.¡±


    Fae led the boy through the fields and back onto the road. Two miles down the track there was a lively village, a village that Fae had ventured to before. Many of the people there recognised Fae, though they didn¡¯t seem to react to Cato in any kind of familiar way. The boy tried to show Fae around his town, but found it hard because things seemed to be laid out a little differently to what he was used to.


    ¡°How could a place like this have changed so much in a couple of weeks,¡± Cato seemed baffled.


    Eventually, they found a cottage on the edge of town, Cato wasn¡¯t exactly sure if this was his home, but it was the most familiar house, in the most familiar spot he could find. Fae knocked on the door and an old lady answered.


    ¡°Hello there,¡± the lady said with a welcoming smile on her face.


    ¡°Hello. I believe I have a child who lives here, Cato.¡±


    The lady¡¯s eyebrows rose.


    ¡°Impossible. Begone with such foolery. Why do you come here to torment me with the ghosts of the past? Begone!¡±


    Cato took a step back, a little abashed ¨C though Fae quickly pressed the issue before the lady had a chance to close the door.


    ¡°Then Cato is a name you recognise? Might I ask you what relation Cato has to you?¡±


    The lady hesitated, as if deciding whether entertain the question, or close the door right there and then. Eventually she answered.


    ¡°You''re obviously not from around here. Cato was my older brother. He disappeared into that vile forest one hundred years ago. Just as the stories say."


    It was then that everything fell into place for Fae. He was surprised himself, though he did well not to show it.


    "And if you recall as I do, the stories do not mention the name of the boy. For that, I assume is not often spoken of. Step outside and look into the eyes of this young boy. I assure you it is your older brother. I, Fae ¨C a Traveller of the road, ventured into the forest and found him there."


    The lady took a step forward, Cato stepped backwards in fright ¨C though Fae held onto his hand comfortingly. Their eyes met and the lady''s face was struck with a sense of recognition. Then the lady gasped.


    "Cato? Cato."


    The older lady held out her arms, and then they embraced. When Fae had finished explaining about what had happened in much detail, the boy was paraded around the village, and that night there was a lot of celebration and festivities. Fae joined them for drinks and the feast. They welcomed him warmly. During the months that would proceed this event, a new ballad would become popular in the bars and the taverns; a ballad sung by many voices ¨C some beautiful and compelling, and some slurred and drunken. This new ballad told the tale of the boy who had returned from the enchanted woods after a hundred years in the company of a Traveller.


    During the festivities on the night that Cato had returned to the town, when Fae got a chance, he asked one of the young men a question that had been on his mind ever since Cato had been discovered.


    "How many years has Marcellus been governor of this province?"


    "Almost six years. Why do you ask?"


    "No reason," Fae said and finished his drink.


    But Fae now knew that he had spent longer in that forest than he had thought. Yes, time changed in those woods, or maybe the mist of the wood was so mind-numbing that it was impossible to keep track of time. For Fae had been in the forest for a little over two years.