《Between the River Deltas (Finished)》


 The Man between River Deltas

    I had not felt good that day, the previous day, or the day before that. A gnaw inside me had blossomed, indeed over the course of two weeks. A great river of thoughts had swept me away, none righteous or even decipherable. All good or ill action was prohibited by none other than myself. A coward¡¯s sense perception clouded my eyes and thus I was relegated to mere paralysis.


    Indeed, where I had been standing, my legs and feet had failed me and I was bound to simply sit against a tall rock between a pair of great oak trees within the depths of the grand forest. Little rays of light barely managed to burst their way through the dense canopy above me. But somehow, a small lucky fraction of the sun rays, which managed to pierce the canopy, had landed directly upon me. I was bathing in the sunlight as I sat, paralyzed by inaction. A fantastic sign it was no doubt as a portion of the omen managed to slip into my stream of thoughts. Yet, it was merely a drop, a tiny fragment of a realization quickly obscured by a host of other suppositions.


    Just down from where I sat was a cave, at the bottom of a tiny gorge, so small that one probably had to crouch to enter and narrow enough one could touch either side at the same time. For a month I had searched for it in the forest, laboriously investigating under every rock and behind every tree. A tremendous undertaking since I am not a naturalist in that way nor am I an urbanite. My origins lie in low nobility by blood but true life by choice. Thinking and gracious solitude suit me best, which I had discovered through self imposed exile. A hermit, if one ought to say, but a peaceful one and one encumbered by a thick layer of consciousness.


    Yet, a fight no doubt lay in that cave occupied by a necromancer! Wickedness was in that cave, that I was sure of! Oh by God, I had seen them. With my own two eyes, two people entered that tiny gorge and disappeared just after, burrowed like rats underneath the ground. Such a sight sent me reeling and I remember diving to the ground, with a tremendous blow to my stomach, behind a boulder to conceal myself. For an hour I had lingered, face down in the dirt comprehending what I had seen and what was finally put in motion. My body contorted and my face convulsed violently, the humiliation was so overpowering that I was left to writhe in it. The retreat back home was painful in all senses of the word.


    They had turned their backs to civilization and God for indecent power. I turned my back to civilization and indecency for God and I dare not let rumors lump me with them! They harness the wickedness of dark magic while I partake in the miracles of free will, damn those bastards who dare even to hold a candle against me! Word travel from village to village, ship to ship, and man to man, which my status, my status as an enlightened self-conversationalist was becoming tainted and rotten. My own perception of my own self was even cursed, my mind poisoned by their misdeeds.


    But alas I was too weak right then and there. Even with a sword at my hip (even though it was rustier than my sword arm in a literal sense) I could not even push myself to confront them and perhaps slay them or even persuade them and convert them. Any self-action against them was not simply hindered but utterly blocked. For a long while, I just stood in pure anguish, just as before, cursing at myself and stomping my bare feet into the dirt which only exacerbated my uselessness. My hands found themselves clutching my hair, in between deep bites against my fingernails. Oh, how I wished I could just simply march on in, like a heroic knight against the devil, and take the fight right to them and feel, yes feel, the tremendous sentiment of triumph!


    But I could not. As a man burdened with a momentous amount of consciousness, whose thoughts ran deep, I could not act. My limbs were bogged down in mental mud. I simply could not! A tremendous amount of shame washed over me. My confidence collapsed like a bridge with a cannon shot through it. I began to storm away from the gorge of the necromancers and back to my isolated abode between the river deltas. For the fifteenth time, it had happened again! I deserved, without a shadow of a doubt, my sense of destitution and to be eclipsed by better, braver men, even men of noble houses whom I had run from, many of whom were brave knights. A slew of self-inflicted curses flew from my mouth which drove wounds deeper than any whip against my back would have.


    So I began my depressing march back to my abode with storm clouds above my head. After crossing countless roots and shrubs and boulders and a river (which mattered little as I had no shoes and tattered trousers, a benefit of selective impoverishment haha!) I stumbled upon the sight of two legs sticking out behind a giant tree trunk. The sight made me stop dead in my tracks. An avalanche worth of possibilities stormed into the forefront of my mind.


    The pair of feet did not move as I stared from beside a massive rock with a bush covering the front side of me. Minutes passed uneventfully. Neither the pair of feet nor myself dared to move. Nature seemed to care little, as birds continued to chirp and faint gusts of wind brushed my unkempt hair. In the middle of a standoff which I perceived to be alternating in every sense of the word, the world carried on. Strangers I typically avoid, not out of pride, at least not completely, and not out of fear most definitely but for personal preference. The temptation to steer myself around the pair of legs, avoiding the possible encounter, was nearly overpowering. I could only stare. Then suddenly through the canopy of the trees, a ray of light burst through. The sun shone directly onto the owner of the legs. Such a sight entranced me. For many, they would perceive it as a stroke of luck or coincidence yet for me, it was a loud and clear message.


    The bush swayed as I plodded my way through it and toward the stranger. I then rounded the tree he lay against, coming from his right side. The man was looking at the ground, very much awake but when I came into view, he looked up at me without a hint of concern. I saw a humble face which helped shine what I saw as a humble mind. Quite friendly physiognomy he had. Thin cheeks lay on either side with thin but distinct eyebrows. Both lips were thin too and nearly identical. He had short brown hair. His eyes were brown but wide yet narrowed out of reflex as he took in my state. Yet the narrowing of his eyes could not hide what I had already seen. It was then I noticed he had the uniform of a hunter, as he wore leather armor, and had a bow with a quiver full of arrows beside him but beside one of his hands was a nearly empty bottle of brandy.


    ¡°Afternoon,¡± he said with a lively voice.


    Before him in full was a man in quite squalid condition. Again, I had no shoes, tattered pants, and a tunic that was not only riddled with holes but with dirt and stains. Most describe my eyes as wild but bright green and perceiving. My hair was greasy and unkempt which accompanied a tattered and short beard. At my hip was a rusty sword, more brown and grey. His utter confusion as to who I was and what I wanted was painted all over his face, from eyes to lips.


    ¡°Afternoon,¡± I replied. ¡°You a huntsman?¡±


    ¡°Indeed I am.¡± The man paused and continued to glare at me. Once more he looked me up and down and continued, ¡°I don¡¯t take you for a huntsman, dear sir. You¡¯ve got an odd look about you¡­¡± Then a realization dawned upon him. ¡°Well my goodness, you ought to be the owner of this forest! I suppose you ought to have a shack here! I¡¯ve hunted here for months and months and never quite had the chance to run into any single soul here. I¡¯d wager it would be right and proper for me to leave you to your own duties.¡±


    I cried out, ¡°No, no, absolutely not! Don¡¯t you worry, not a little, now! I am not from these woods. You see, I am not an ¡®owner¡¯ of these woods but a hermit! My God, how good it feels to have told someone that! I should add that I do not live among these sets of trees! No, I do not, not for a second! I live in a cabin between the river deltas, southwest of here. I have, though, found something disturbing in these woods.¡± My temperament swung from euphoria to suspicion at the drop of a hat. I felt myself slip further into a pensive mood. ¡°Yes indeed, I have discovered something quite disturbing, even for a true man such as myself. I can not begin to be-¡±


    ¡°Oh, you are that hermit!¡± he smiled and leaped to his feet, cutting me off. His quick lending of such concern about my condition blindsided me. He had caught me in between two rooms of thought akin to a doorway and somehow yanked me up to the ceiling. ¡°Your oddities are indeed the talk of the tavern. My goodness, how could have I mistaken you! Laremsten is the village I hail from which is also west of this forest. Come now, friend, my name¡¯s Norvin, you look haggard, please now take a drink of brandy if you wish. You ought to have acquired quite the thirst having roamed between odd paths for so long.¡±


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I do not wish to drink! No, absolutely not, drinking does no good for me! How bitter it tastes and how slow, both limb and mind, it makes me. I¡¯d rather not indulge in such pointless excess. Drinks such as brandy are not of my taste you see for both mind and body...¡± I lingered for a moment and decisively swung the conversation to what I saw as more pressing. ¡°You see, I fret about what I¡¯ve found in the forest, yes this forest here! Do you frequent this forest? Bah, you look like you do! You even have the comfort of drinking and lazing about the place! I do not know the local geography as well as I should, my goodness yes now that I realize it, I haven¡¯t looked at a map in a decade! Perhaps longer, yes a good bit longer! Is Laremsten close to this forest? My abode is not, it¡¯s about a quarter a day¡¯s walk but I know it by heart. Bah! I am distracting myself, you seem like a huntsman who traverses the trees around here often, I presume?¡±


    ¡°Well yes,¡± he said as he bent down, grabbed his drink, and rose once more. And to my dismay (I only showed it in my face not by words) he took a great, big gulp and continued before the brandy likely hit the bottom of his stomach, ¡°When I can escape farm duties, I enjoy the breeze that weaves in between great old trunks. Nothing quite better than a drink in nature! No sir! Any man prefers the calm sereneness of the woods to the constant grumbles of their wives or their family. I take that you are perhaps a more extreme version-¡±


    I gave him a wild stare, one that I could not control. It was then I nearly shouted, ¡°Oh dear, you don¡¯t know who lurks in these areas, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No. And keep your voice down,¡± he said with a rapidly hushing tone. It was then in that instant, that he realized that indeed, his voice too had risen far too loud. Yet it was only my cries that he sought tempered, a blind spot created by that brandy sitting in his stomach. ¡°You¡¯re gonna go on and scare off any game for miles ¡®round! And no one lives here, besides I suppose another hermit that I have not taken notice of yet. But I assure you, stranger, that beasts make up the most of living beings in these woods, with legs at least.¡±


    It was then I hunched ever so slightly, taken aback by his inference and my soul crushed. So much nearly overtook me that my head became lighter than a feather, if a grand gust of wind broke through, I surely would have fallen over and taken it by it. Once more I stared at him and said, with as much composure as I could muster, ¡°Necromancers. They¡¯re in these woods, I have seen them and I have found their cove! Yes, a hermit such as myself has found these bastards. I know of it! I swear to it! You are the first and only man I have stumbled upon in a very, very long time. No one else knows of their presence besides me, and now you!¡±


    A sheer look of astonishment spread all across his face. It was quite the revelation, to be fair, to hear from a man with such an appearance as myself when I told him. He quickly followed up, ¡°Here? In these woods? My God, I must alert the town guards, it must be them causing the disappearances! Oh God, it¡¯s probably them! Come with me, quick now!¡±


    Norvin nearly flew away or rather almost tumbled over, the drink inhibiting all sense of stable balance. Immediately, he tried to break off our conversation by stuffing the brandy, which he had finished by the swig earlier, into his pocket. The quiver was slung over his shoulder and then he took an arrow out and primed it into his bow, just in case a necromancer somehow revealed itself, he¡¯d take a merry old shot but likely strike true right into my person rather than a ravaging necromancer.


    Before the situation truly spiraled, I put a hand on his shoulder the moment before he ran, ¡°No, please do not alert the town guard! I shall get rid of them, and me alone!¡± The look he gave me shot lightning through my body, there was such perplexion and then fear and right back to disbelief. ¡°Please do not alert the town guard,¡± I reiterated slowly, just in case he had somehow gone deaf from confusion.


    ¡°Well, why not? Do you truly think you can get rid of them? You?¡±


    It was then I regained my composure. What was once a hasty mind, slowed. A long silence followed as I stared down at the ground and let a hand hold my chin. Soon after, my eyes rose to his once more. ¡°I must do it, my life depends on it.¡±


    ¡°Madness has overran your senses.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps but a little, but most definitely no. I am quite in a sound state of mind, more sound than anybody I feel. In fact, I am most definitely in a sounder state of mind than any being in the whole kingdom. I have concluded that I am the last normal man. But I have been thinking. Curses! I have been thinking! For far too long and such, it has whittled me down to how I am today.¡±


    At that point, I could not contain it for a second longer. All at once, like a beaver¡¯s dam bursting from too much water, I broke out into a rant, ¡°You see, Norvin, they give me a bad name, those necromancers I mean. They pervert what I am and twist it. They are outcasts from normalcy because of their deviance. I am an outcast because of my hunger and thirst for normalcy. I have no dark magic, nor powers or anything of the like, as I have sold nothing for it. I owe nothing to no man or animal alive. I owe God, yes, perhaps I do, but so does everybody, no? Such as, I have imposed my exile for the sake of my quest for normalcy and I have not an ounce of shame for it. But those bastards ought to have a tremendous amount of shame for it! Yet they likely have none and as such, I seek to rectify that notion.


    ¡°But Norvin, you know nothing about me. All the rumors you may have heard about me are rubbish and rubbish alone! I am a Great Man, that I know! But from the line I come from are nobles, yes low nobles but knightly nobles and nobles nonetheless. But despite my perceived greatness, I am in danger of being eclipsed and long forgotten. Perhaps it is too late. But eek! I must stave that fret away! There are damned relatives of mine, many of whom share my last name, that ride into battle with glistening armor and lances. They rule and keep their names in records to be recalled by generations long after us. But what about me? Why is it I, who has lived truest by any sense of the word, cast aside and forgotten? While they get to live amongst themselves, fully engrossed in their own greatness? Don¡¯t I, as an obligation to myself, strive for my own greatest, in the eyes of others and my own? What shall my life be if faced with obsolescence?¡±


    For a moment, I could not utter another word. So much had washed over me. Yet, before I let the moment slip me by, I urged myself on, ¡°I am a Great Man. I am an impoverished man. I am a man of no opportunity besides this very conflict before me. I know that if someone else were to rob this of me, I would die. This death would not be by my heart ceasing to beat or my brain not casting another thought but by my soul having given up and stopped seeking what it means to be solely me, a man who lived between the river deltas.¡±


    I stopped but continued to pierce his eyes. At that very moment, life was at its fullest for me without having to put myself in direct danger. Every word that I had expelled had come right from my mind without any barrier of the sort. Those necromancers were in terrible trouble at that point in time. I found that my knees were ready to spring me into a sprint back to the cove for quite a fight. If one were to pop up before me, my sword would have been plunged deep into their gut before another second could even slip by.


    ¡°Well, alright then,¡± he said, his stare breaking off from mine. ¡°The town guard shall remain ignorant of those demonic folk. But perhaps today is not the wisest of decisions, as it¡¯s getting into the afternoon now. Perhaps another day, like tomorrow morning. Yes, tomorrow morning would be the best fit, don¡¯t you think? Best not to delay, for the innocent are in danger the longer we linger. We, er perhaps you, have to deal with them tomorrow morning, no later, I decree. I¡¯m no thinking man but what I say ought to go. Fret not, Delta Man, if you do not wish to fight for some reason, then I most certainly can alert the town guard, and they will signal to a higher authority on how to drag the necromancers into the light. That outcome should not cost you an ounce of pride, so don¡¯t go on agonizing about it.¡±


    Joy completely smothered me. Nothing that I could do could restrain the relief I was feeling right then and there. A single portion of my struggle had been resolved and what took its place was another struggle but coated with nobility. I was shaking his hand up and down, which nearly tipped him over. For a fraction of a second, I wanted to embrace him but decided against it. I cried, ¡°Splendid! Oh yes, how perfect! We shall meet right here! Yes, right here to-morrow a-morning! Thank you, Norvin. Tomorrow, those wicked bastards will meet their end, with a humble villager as a witness to flaunt the rumors that no doubt plague my reputation. My God, it is perfect! So see you to-morrow!¡±


    He seemed quite jovial at my bidding of a farewell. My joy was no doubt infectious and the shared relief was a connection formed between our two souls, that I have no doubt about. The fate of my soul rested on the presumed good word of a rather slothful huntsman, but that did not deter my well-deserved elated feeling. Norvin even bid me a warm goodbye and offered to lead me out of the forest if I were somehow lost. Of course, I had memorized that particular section of the forest quite handily and was in no need of assistance, not in the slightest. It was a thoughtful gesture, but an overzealous one (kindness toward a man such as myself is indeed quite rare).


    Instead, we said another farewell to which he responded, and went our separate ways for the day, finally having fully parted. As the distance between us grew, my mood tampered to which most of the jubilation flattened and what remained was an ever-burgeoning feeling of anticipation.

 From Forests Through Ruins

    The journey back to my humble abode was daunting, taking up the last vestiges of the afternoon that had remained. What plagued the trek did not lay in the land but what had been born inside my skull. Indeed, I had gotten lost but not by my physical presence, as in wandering the forest or the plains or navigating the river delta back to my abode but rather getting dragged into the depths of my consciousness. It was truly like I could not see, nothing that passed by my eyes I remembered, as nothing was taken into consideration shortly after I left Norvin to his village. Only what remained was the anticipation, yes the anticipation was growing larger, like a fire getting fed more and more fuel to burn. I could feel it as my chest warmed and then seeped out to my distant limbs, eventually even my fingers, right up to the tip must have been hot enough to burn flesh if I had touched it.


    I do recall at one point, it must have been an hour or so after my encounter with the huntsman, that I could not walk any further home. At once, I found myself sitting down in the dirt just grasping for my rusted sword. There was little reassurance found by tightening my hand around the grip of the weapon. It seemed so light, lighter than the air it existed in and perhaps if it had become air, I would breathe it in and its metal which comprised it would steel my heart only to be heated and malleable. The sounds of nature suddenly popped back into reality for me and after savoring the suspense of impending conflict bathing my consciousness, I was able to drag myself out into reality. My hand released its grip and transitioned from one realm to another. I burst out into laughter without my true self giving consent.


    Oh, how little they know! Don¡¯t they understand what is coming? Of course not, they are necromancers and witches and no-good-doers. In the rapidly oncoming future, the carriage of fate shall crash into them, with me as the driver and my sword as the horses! My self-assertion comes from the individuality of what is to come! This duel between me and them is approaching, and far sooner than later.


    Exhaustion came upon me, my body finally having been whittled down by the excitement. Thankfully, my legs recovered, at least enough to carry me onward. God forbid if they had not been able to, I would have forced them. I¡¯d have cut off my hands to save my feet if forced to choose, as long as my mind and mouth remained.


    The march onward was spectacularly eventless. Between the infested gorge and my dwelling lay countless trees, shrubs, and rocks all of which accompanied a dozen or so paths I snaked across, leaping horizontally as well as vertically, without even the slightest difficulty in navigation. Yet, the afternoon dragged on and I became especially thirsty but had no waterskin on me. I cursed myself for such foolishness. How could a man who was consistently ensnared by thoughts forget something so obvious? It was the first time I had forgotten water and a feeble vow to never forget my waterskin was the only recourse available. After an hour or so, I had finally managed a roundabout effort to break through the treeline and out to the plains.


    Green grass painted itself everywhere, without care or concern with other colors to match besides the streaks of brown paths built by men that other men used to traverse. After venturing to the top of a hill, I managed to get my bearings down as to where I truly was. Indeed the great Horidil River was to my west, but I was farther north than I had imagined. To the north lay some hamlet, the east was the forest (which I had just exited from) and the south was more open prairie land, unsettled but claimed land of the kingdom. I huffed and puffed with indignation as my misadventure and miscalculation further north than I normally had gone. My overconfident navigation of threaded footpaths was not as ironclad as I had believed.


    What struck a mighty blow against morale was that I¡¯d also have to pass through the ghost village if I were to follow the road. Down the hill, I went bearing south and keeping the river close by to which it would guide me back to my bed, resentful of my past escapades into my mind which cost me a trip past the town. A few curses were wagged by my tongue, all of which were, of course, inflicted against myself.


    Another half-hour passed under the glare of the sun. Nothing alive passed me beside trees and grass, nothing with legs caught up to me or entered my field of view, at least for that little bit of time. It was especially silent, an atmosphere I am more than accustomed to. Man had not fully integrated this part of nature back into the fold where as I walked. Indeed, if it weren¡¯t for the events that were put into play earlier in the day, a pleasant uneventful day perhaps it could have been. Just a man, a wandering man, who took solace in that unbridled and unmolested nature that sobered every one of his senses. Then in front of me, it came into view, the relic of a settlement.


    How odd it was to gaze upon such a distant memory of the past yet see it somehow still standing, or at least, of what remained standing. Old stone and marble buildings still managed to remain upright, even after countless years had passed. It would not be unreasonable to believe that many of those buildings were older than the trees and only perhaps a bit younger than the hills and rivers. In between those yawning stone relics were bits of wooden or refurbished structures melted into the ancient ruins. The brown wood easily stood out in comparison to the grey and white, or even black stone. These outposts, which were made of wooden planks and recobbled stone, breathed life if they in turn had not been abandoned themselves. Ruins within ruins, they were but less so, in a way. The stone buildings reach farther back into distant, foggy history occupied by greater men, only recently have lesser men attempted the feat of reoccupation, yet only to be thrown back out as they had no business hopelessly emulating the feats of truly greater men.


    I had crossed the outskirts and into the center of the old town when I got a violent chill. Each pace I ventured deeper into the ruins made the air more oppressive, as even though the sky seemed boundless above me, the tower buildings that flanked me felt nearly on top of me, threatening to crush my very body. The dirt path led straight through, nearly in a straight line, with only the most minor of blocks or stones in the way. Old yawning buildings groaned as wind rushed through doorways and window frames. Even though that town could not exceed forty ancient buildings and maybe ten ¡°reconstructed¡± structures, it felt immense, like walking through history, even if it was a tad bit humiliating and unnerving.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I could hear old whispers when I passed what looked to be an old palace, or perhaps some noble¡¯s residence. It was larger than the rest, with a courtyard hidden behind a wall that bordered the road. Shrubs and vines occupied the vast expanse with none of the gardening or statues or fountains that likely once were there. My eyes peeked past the entrance, with its gate long since missing. There was not a soul in the courtyard or in the stairs which lay beyond that led up to a grand entrance. A flash of curiosity and terror struck me. Still, I could hear whispering, so I stopped and tried to listen. It was no doubt coming from that courtyard.


    I could not make out a word. It was indecipherable because each ¡°syllable¡± and ¡°word¡± flowed too quickly and unevenly for me to understand. The sound was broad, grumbling and flowing, in a sense as it was likely only the sound of wind gusts. But no doubt it sounded like language. I felt suddenly horrified as I stared down the expanse. Far too much had happened that day and my mind was already quite scrambled! My jaw clenched, my eyes narrowed, and my hand rested on my rusty sword. The whispering ceased as if offended by my presence. In an instant, I peeled myself away from the entrance of the courtyard and continued on. As the distance between me and the courtyard grew, the whispering died down. Not for one more moment, not one more moment, could I stand for derision from old whispering ghosts! Those figures had eclipsed the men of today who in turn were on the verge of eclipsing me. Burning hatred coursed through my veins which battled terror and humiliation.


    God had punished these great men, as they slipped into obscurity brought on by arrogance and stagnation. I left that ¡°old glorious village¡± as quickly as I could. Once more, I nearly slipped back into my mind, to cope with the eerie atmosphere but I escaped that trap too! For when I had exited by a straight path through, I sighed and dared not look back, better let sleeping ghosts rest and not feed the fire inside my heart.


    After that short escapade (of which I was most sincerely glad for it to have ended) another two hours of monotonous marching followed but I could not shake that damned village! I could only imagine (yes within those two hours my consciousness had triumphed for at least a moment!) great knights and modern men-at-arms posting themselves and defiling the ruins. Old whispers must have poisoned them too akin to how the sounds were like to me. The difference did lie in that I merely brushed past the ruins rather than dwell in them. ¡°Shame on them!¡± I suddenly cried to myself.


    They squalor in wars, pointless and unjustly, satiate themselves to the point of anxiety and thoughtlessness, distract themselves with horrid pieces of ¡°art¡± and so, dukes and kings and counts alike, try to force themselves within the lost great men of old. Even if these great men had descended into barbarity and wickedness, their greatness still did remain, even in the souls that dwell on the grounds of today. I dared not to contest with those ancient folk first. Instead, what lay before me (by my calculation of course!) that it is these modern men, sulking, brooding and arrogant men, that I ought to triumph over first. It lay almost logically, as in a sequence that was perfectly mapped out in my mind. Those necromancers had to fall by my hand!


    Nevertheless, at some point, when the sun had nearly touched the ground and began to turn glowing red hot, the plains became a marsh. Indeed, the road swung eastward rather than southward. The sight brought much needed respite to my weary soul. Home was near! Seeking direction, I darted hard west to reach the bank of the river, completely abandoning the road which I had traversed on. Trees, both dead and alive, hugged much of the bank and tall shrubs competed with those trees. Once the bank was almost reached, I made due southward bound. Mud stuck to the soles of my feet but I cared little. I even had a bit of pride, or perhaps boredom, yet likely a mixture of both, to begin whistling a merry little tune. No man was around for miles, so it was my merry little tune. It was the merry little tune that reached no other man¡¯s ears and was also created on the spot. That realization soothed me and finally shook that eerie feeling from prior like the cold leaving the body when resting near a roaring campfire.


    Then, not half an hour later and dusk surging on, I had hit the landmark. An old stone statue of a man with both his arms extended as if he were preaching. It was a rather detailed statue, as he wore robes and a rope around his waist. The cloak was down and what remained was a strong face, even though much of the stone that made up his jaw had been chipped or disintegrated. And even despite it being located on the bank of a river and in a swamp, it remained in remarkable condition, considering the circumstances in location and the complete lack of organized maintenance. Plant life refused to colonize the statue but I cared for it anyway, by at least checking that indeed nothing dared to touch it and nothing ever did, not even my hand directly. If plants had refused to brush along the statue, I refused my hand to make contact as a rather crude mode of respect.


    I rested for a moment near the statue, allowing my legs to finally stop marching. Then, rather than get too lazy, I trudged into the river to ford it. It was no longer than twenty yards wide. The clear water was somewhat treacherous, as the bottom was slippery mud. The cool water reached up to my mid-chest and my desire to quench my thirst burst into relevance. But I cleared it, methodically and without issue. When I had crossed, I turned back just to admire the lonely statue along the river bank. Home was just two shallow rivers away and so I turned to make the final leg. A waterskin was in order, that much urged me to make the final trek.


    The last two rivers were much easier to cross since their depth was shallow and the length to cross much shorter. All three rivers share the same mother source, of course. The Horidil is quite the giver of life, with fish and plants and hermits such as myself.


    Finally, my house was in view giving me a round of fresh joy. To be honest, I was thoroughly exhausted, having marched for hours. Tomorrow was to be another fresh advance back to the cavern. What I had figured that lay between myself and the confrontation, was merely night¡¯s rest.


    Instead, as I made my way closer, I managed to witness something that I had never seen throughout the entirety of my voluntary exile.


    A visitor.

 The Angler

    He was sitting on top of a tree stump, merely content to mill about and enjoy the evening. It was as if he had not a care in the world, at least, that was how it seemed from where I stood, which was still a good bit off. I crept forward with an uneven pace as my head began to pour possibilities like a spilled glass on a table. There were too many to even analyze or discredit as foolish in any way. The most prominent questions that ruled over the rest of the buzzing were simple: how and why.


    I was just half-conscious as I stepped forward, completely overwhelmed by everything that had been thrust upon me to the point that I wished to turn and run. It was impossible, as he lay between my abode which in turn lay between where I stood and what ought to happen the very next day. My feet scraped the ground, leaving behind bits of hardened dirt and wet mud in such a trail that even the most novice of trackers could immediately pick up the exact path and pace I had trudged on.


    Finally, the visitor had swung his head at me. Our eyes met, with his pair being lively, narrow, and sharp while mine were half away, wide and dull. It took moments to mobilize myself as I encouraged myself within my mind. Nearer, and nearer I became and my eyes narrowed to his, and my jaw clenched. I could not stop myself from gnawing and gnashing my teeth ever so subtly. At last, I met him close to his person.


    He wore a brown angler¡¯s hat which bore wrinkles and a wide brim. His eyebrows were thin and barely furrowed. Below were his eyes, which were bored deep into his sockets and were sharp and dark brown. I was nearly lost in them and what lay behind them was far beyond me. He wore simple peasant clothing but had thick brown leather boots but what struck me was how dry he was. Having forded three rivers in near succession, little droplets of water were still dripping off my clothes and strands of hair. I immediately surmised that he had been sitting in the sun, on top of that stump, for quite some time.


    ¡°Ah, good afternoon!¡± he said, leaping off the stump with an outstretched hand to meet mine. ¡°I have been waiting here, but not too long, hehe. No, in earnest, I have not been waiting long at all! Please, tell me that I have found correctly, that you live in this very shack?¡±


    I met my hand with his and shook it. His skin was ice cold. ¡°This is, indeed, my abode. And, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I would very, very, very much like to engross myself within it.¡± Seeking not to converse with anybody, I began to step past him and onward to my home.


    As he was next to me, he said, ¡°Say, stranger, would it be possible that I could rest for the incoming night here? Just for one night, that¡¯s all, and no more! Not one second more! The nearest town is too far to reach before dark, that I know that you know.¡±


    I stopped. ¡°You fish around here?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes. Most often I throw my rods into this same river but only just north of here. Fish around this swamp are a bit nasty and squeamish, in a way, perhaps even quarrelsome, hehe. Fish up north, though, oh yes, they¡¯re quite quiet and easier to catch, but older and less fresh. I figured that I¡¯d try and fish down here after traveling down here, from the north.¡±


    ¡°My quarters are not of the highest standard, even for an angler.¡±


    ¡°Hehe, I could not care less! Nope! For as long as there is a roof and some semblance of warmth, I- Oh ha, stranger, what¡¯s that sword on doing by your hip?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, there is a roof and four walls,¡± I said whilst ignoring his question and turning to him. What struck me was his voice¡¯s betrayal of his face. He seemed awfully jolly and merry but his eyes and mouth remained pursed and observant. My stomach turned over itself in my gut. ¡°You wish to stay just the night?¡±


    ¡°Just the night. I¡¯ll pay, in ducats! But when I have them on hand..¡±


    ¡°Bah!¡± I cried. ¡°Just stay the damned night! In return, I would rather you never venture near my home ever again.¡± I got near to him and hunched over, ever so slightly, ¡°You see, fisherman, I am not the most gregarious of men. Indeed, I am not, and that I know very well! Oh yes, I know myself inside and out better than any creature that roams our very plane of existence. I seek solitude, don¡¯t you understand? I want to sit¡­ and to sit and think! But also, act? Bah! I am getting far too ahead of myself. My words are tripping over one another and my tongue has tied itself into a terrible knot! So yes, yes, you can stay ¡®the night¡¯, just I ask that you leave a hermit such as myself, as alone as you could possibly muster.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see you are quite ¡®stretched too thin¡¯, yes? Hehe, very well, very well, I merely ask to stay the night and not a second longer. From tonight, I imagine that we shall never cross paths ever again if that is what you desire.¡±


    ¡°Perfect¡­ yes very much ideal,¡± I mumbled and marched onto my abode with the fisherman trailing me. It was the oddest of moments, him following up to my door. Even though the sun was blazing as she began to dip below the horizon and we were in the very center of a swamp with hot air trapped between the confines of great cypress and willow trees, my hand and up to my wrist remained cool, clearly still reeling from my hand gripping his. If it were possible, I would cut him down with my sword right there. Yet, the moment when I had finally thoroughly thought through the act, I winced in disgust. Thank God he could not see my face, as no doubt, my eyes, nose and mouth must have convulsed and contorted in the most odd of manners. Oh how I wished if he were to simply turn around and flee, or perhaps, I could fly away or somehow burrow into the ground like a mole. Much to my utter dissatisfaction, he did not and I neared closer to the door of my home.


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    My abode was as humble as humble could be, it was only a single-story building, completely made of wood with not a single stone laid for the foundation, and inside lay one room. I had found it there, all lonesome and vacant, a magnificent find it had truly been. The roof was a better shape than the walls (for I had repaired the wood and replaced much of it, making it perhaps a bit lighter in terms of a shade of brown haha!) but the door was nearly rotting off its hinges. There was a lock on the door but in name only, as one simply needed to insert a digit, press upward and the door was opened.


    When I reached the door, I turned back to see if his eyes remained on me, and they were! There was no way around it. A raging stormcloud hovered above me and rained down misery. My damned desire to be hospitable cost me my satisfaction and excitement to fully rest for tomorrow. Then perhaps, a distant roar of thunder came to my attention, both inside my mind and very much the sky. Indeed as I swung my head eastward, and past a dense canopy of trees, dark clouds were gathering and threatened to break the silence that nature had provided me since my departure from Norvin. I suspected, and without any evidence or clear logical reasoning, that the angler had caused that gathering storm.


    My hand still rested, just below the useless lock when I had a sudden urge to tell him off and drive him off with the sword at my hip. His sincerity was dubious, that I knew and as such, I could not discern whether to confront him maliciously or mercifully. I crushed the urge and quickly as it arrived but remained adamant to quench some of the many doubts rustling about behind my eyes.


    Before I opened my abode, I turned to him once more, ¡°If you are indeed, a fisherman, an angler, or any man of that type¡­ where is your boat? Wouldn¡¯t it be wise to tug it near the door and flip it over?¡±


    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t you worry nothing about that. Nope! You see, kind hermit, I¡¯ve already tugged it ashore and stashed it a good few yards inland! Haha! It¡¯s rather close, yep, very much nearby. It¡¯s just northeast of your wondrous manor, and before you ask, it is flipped over, and underneath it lay all my fishing goods and bits and odds and such.¡± He paused then posed, ¡°Say, lucky man will by chance stumble upon my livelihood and take it? I figured this ¡®island¡¯, if you wish to call it, is quite isolated.¡±


    ¡°You, fisherman, are my first visitor,¡± I stated, with a hint of disgust in my voice. Despite the unsubstantiated explanations he had trotted out, it did quell some of my suspicions. I pressed further, ¡°How did you manage to stumble upon me? No doubt you are aware that my condition is rather clandestine and isolated. Yet, here you are, seeming to arrive out of the hinterland, regions that are outside my vision, just to arrive without warning. So, how did you manage? Were you looking for me?¡±


    His silence, even if it lasted for just a moment too long, immediately put him back under my close eye. Each second drew out longer than the last as I waited impatiently for his response. It was a minuscule but noticeable amount of time, but for a man who is a quick speaker and prone to seize upon words, the tempo was thrown off. I could not tell whether I had thrown him off or he had anticipated a question of the likes and was furiously revising a more satisfying response to my suspicious interrogation. He quickly corrected, ¡°It would be more correct to say that you had found me!¡± A violent laugh escaped his lips; I stood silently, ready to ram my sword through his abdomen. A look of horror flashed across my face, from right to left, which I quickly steeled. It was too late, as he remarked, ¡°Oh please, it¡¯s a manner of speech, in a way that is. We stumbled upon each other by sheer luck! No other word can describe it. Stumbling! To fall into place, almost accidentally but perhaps with the slightest bit of intention as the steps preceding the loss of balance had long since been put in motion. But ah! I am rambling, but please note that I am very grateful for your hospitality and have duly noted your request and will carry it out to the best of my ability.¡±


    A great blanket of darkness fell upon my mind which left me feeling cowardly and suspicious. His laugh had grated my nerves in the most spectacular of fashion leaving me bewildered and again, cowardly. The urge to tell him off and drive him off reared its head once more but once more, I had suppressed it.


    My eyes steered themselves back to my door and lock. I lent my hand, stuck out a finger to circumvent the lock, and shoved the door open. I crossed the threshold with him following me right afterward. From the clouds above, a tempest roared. At least, I had arrived home, right on time as I would have been able to avoid being drenched from the storm.


    The inside of the abode was, again, only one room. In the far left corner was my bed, and to the right some cabinets that contained supplies (pipe and tobacco being the most important of course!). There was a crate beside that cabinet with traveling equipment. At the center was a table and a single chair, both were dusty as I had not eaten for over two weeks, with the white dust helping lighten up the dark wood which comprised them. In the corner to my right was a fishing rod, another bucket with bait with nothing else. To my left were two barrels of foodstuffs, mostly salted food and bread. On the floor beside them was a lantern with a dying flame that barely emitted but a shred of light. There were three window frames which were placed on all three sides, other than the door. Each was boarded up with wood and only small bits of evening sun shone through the western window. Beside the entry door was a bucket, teeming to the brim with water for me to drink and I happily obliged.


    The angler meanwhile, strutted toward the center table and sat himself down. A hand was raised from his side, which lifted his hat and set it down on the table. What the angler¡¯s hat had hidden was a thick amount of brown hair that dropped down along the sides of his head. The other hand, his left, ran through each blade of hair to slick it back. Then his stature slumped, having gotten himself awfully comfortable in my abode. The room suddenly became dark as the clouds outside and in the sky had finally taken their place, thoroughly blocking the sun. Then, his eyes swung to me.

 An Encompassing Tempest

    We exchanged looks with an awkward pause gathering. I broke the tension, ¡°I only have one bed. I am afraid that you, even as a guest, are going to have to make do with sleeping on a chair¡­ Or perhaps, indeed, I may be able to fetch a spare pelt or blanket of something of the sort.¡±


    ¡°A, perhaps in a moment!¡± he smiled, hoping to dispel the rising sense that he was an intruder and not a guest. ¡°Please, please do take your time! I am merely content to sit and converse.¡± He motioned to the opposing chair and jeered, ¡°Well, at least you had the luck to have two chairs in your home!¡±


    The air soured in an instant and continued to be, even as the terror of the storm raged more outside. Suddenly, a downpour of rain came rushing down from above. Rain slapped furiously against the windows and roof, destroying any sense of silence that could have persisted. The wind tried to breach between glass and wood but failed yet managed to howl and whistle.


    I took a seat opposing him, but not before grabbing the bucket of water and taking another gulp, before setting it down again. Another silence ensued but unlike previously, lasted a long while.


    Another pensive mood fell upon me, even in the presence of another being before me. My eyes were locked to the floor off to the side. How puzzling it was, for if my glance was away toward something else and if my mind wandered to another realm, the angler did not exist. I understood that it was remarkably rude, irredeemably so, but it mattered not in the slightest to me.


    ¡°How long have you been hidden around these swamps,¡± he asked.


    I was snapped out of thought and back into the present moment. The proof lay in that my glare swung back at him. ¡°Nearly a decade, if but perhaps a touch over. But to tell you, in all honesty, and with every sense of the word, it has only felt like a few months.¡±


    ¡°A few months?¡± he guffawed. ¡°You look as haggard as haggard can be! Your clothes are torn and around your hips is a sword, even though it¡¯s as rusted as your lock, it provides a function, if you can call it that. And so, for a touch over a decade, you have been, what, doing what exactly?¡±


    Another roar from the clouds rang.


    ¡°I have been thinking. Indeed, I have been thinking, but perhaps a good bit too much. But thinking nobly, by my estimation,¡± I replied. ¡°But perhaps, I must say, that it will not always be this way. But I have been worried about many things, all of which do not concern you in the slightest.¡±


    ¡°When do you imagine you¡¯ll quit being a hermit?¡±


    ¡°One day, but not today.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, tomorrow then, surely!¡± he sneered.


    ¡°Maybe tomorrow then,¡± I murmured while nodding.


    Somehow, the response satisfied him because his stature was broad and slackened. He wore a content smile with a hint of smug satisfaction. Alarm bells began to frantically ring the moment I let out that admission. A wave of rain pounded against the windows and door, for a moment I feared the door would cave inwards and the glass would shatter from the pressure. Yet, they remained firm. All the while, the room darkened rapidly as the sun became blocked from all the rain clouds bombarding the landscape. Suddenly, my meeting with Norvin and my crisis with the necromancers felt a lifetime away. It was unfathomable that the angler and Norvin had indeed met me on the same day. I wondered if Norvin ever met the angler but then I had the realization that we never exchanged names or where he lived. It dawned on me fully that the man who sat, just opposing me, was not in any manner like Norvin.


    ¡°Would you like something to eat?¡± I asked with a slow voice.


    ¡°Oh, that would be very much appreciated, if you do not mind.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I do not have fish or anything aquatic of the sort to eat,¡± I said whilst getting up. My back was turned to him as I rummaged through my barrel of foodstuffs. From behind, I heard him rise from his seat and travel a bit further away. The light from the lantern quivered, if but for a moment then returned just a bit stronger, as if he had moved it closer. All the while, I was rummaging for what I could make out, the freshest and least saltiest pork within the barrel. ¡°I only have bread and salted pork as it remains the easiest to preserve and most fulfilling to the stomach. I¡¯m no fisherman, I¡¯m sad to say, that my rod remains drier than bone. As I am more of a landman, in the truest sense of the word. I ford rivers and cross forests but have little interest in throwing bait into a river, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    A chuckle echoed from behind, ¡°Ah, don¡¯t you worry about it in the least! Salted fish does not travel all that well, especially when having to deal with necromancers and the sort.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    At that moment, a tremendous rumble of thunder shook my abode. My head craned toward him as I dropped all the bread and pork in my hands. I felt naked as could be and utterly crushed, like a massive boulder had fallen upon me as every bone in my body cracked and broke. His glare was unyielding in every sense of the word, with his head titled ever so slightly downward but his eyes piercing my very soul. The dim light from the lantern, now near the center of the table, failed to illuminate the pupils of his eyes. I could not pierce a tenth of an inch beyond the veil.


    ¡°From where¡­ how? How do you know?¡± I muttered feebly.


    ¡°Ah, perhaps it would have been wise to have the inclination or even an inkling that indeed, I know of things that I ought not to know.¡±


    The humiliation was hotter than a pan above a raging fire. Rain continued to batter the walls and roof in a tremendously violent manner. ¡°Why should I not, perhaps, take manners into my own hands against those who are insincere? You and those necromancers must be in the same league, perhaps of the very same faction or movement of sorts. But why¡­ why have you sought to deceive me even as I was sincere, as much as I could be, barring my personality and personal circumstances against now a man who has been insincere from the moment we traded looks?¡±


    ¡°Do not be so haughty!¡± he guffawed with an evil smile that rose to his lips. ¡°Be careful! Oh I must say, do be careful in deciding who is insincere and sincere, as from where you stand, those circumstances can be altered quicker than you can even think. Would you like me to demonstrate? Then perhaps, you can exercise judgment in a less fortuitous fashion.¡±


    ¡°You desire to wisen me? But why?¡± I cried. ¡°Look at you! My God, if I had a mirror I ought to raise it up right before your face. You are in league with those wicked necromancers!¡± I drew my sword. Tension in the room burst into its highest crescendo. ¡°You defiler, yes you are a defiler! My soul, yes my very soul depends not only on what happens tomorrow, which I fully intend on carrying out by the way, but of this very moment!¡±


    ¡°That much is not entirely true! But I must fully concede something quite important if you wish to hear.¡±


    I tempered my inner flame as well as I could. Just a few yards from me lay someone I truly had hated. My exile had never proven a chance, nothing of the sort, nothing that could have thrust a circumstance of unfiltered loathing akin to what I faced. ¡°Well, what is it then? Why should I cease, perhaps stow away my sword back into its sheath, and give you a thorough listen?¡±


    ¡°If you wish, take a seat and I shall tell you. I will be true to my word, for this very concession.¡±


    That damned smile was still on his face. How proud and arrogant it was! Even his composure, the way he formed his words were caked in arrogance and superiority. For all my thinking and all my self-led debates and deliberation, it had led me to be beaten. Worst, beaten in my very abode where I had tried, in vain as of that very moment, to flee from defeat. My heart sank to my stomach and my high shoulders slumped over. I wanted to weep but stopped myself in that very moment for fear of further disgrace. Before even I could comprehend, my sword was shoved back into its sheath, and I brought myself back into my seat. Despite the utter humiliation that I had inflicted on myself, the glare from which my wild eyes continued to persist. That was all that I could truly muster, a completely pathetic display of capitulation.


    As I stared, a voice rang in my ears but his mouth did not move, the grin remained constant. A whisper caressed my ears which was swift like the wind and ran faster than I could perceive time in the realm I existed in. ¡°My existence is nothing akin to yours. From the depths, I am bound to places few travel to and watch over, with my careful eyes, dissidents that worship the circumstances that I may bring upon them.¡±


    The whisper was the same as the one I heard in the ruins. Yet every word was tangible as if they were objects I could grip with my very hands. He¡¯s the spirit of those ruins and had I not stumbled upon him, then my presence would have been utterly clandestine. Complete terror possessed me, from the top of my head to the end of my feet. All my agency, which I had worked strenuously for a decade, vanished like smoke in the air.


    The whispering continued, ¡°I feel your horror which pleases me greatly. You understand better than most. Many souls had sequestered themselves in my ruins. Do you know how long I have guarded that windy, desolate place? Yet, many barge into my abode and seek to occupy it. Soldiers from realms stretching back to the first collapse have tried and all have failed. The most recent tried to build their rudimentary quarters and failed. Though, the most recent, are the very same ones that you wish to vanquish, how very convenient!


    ¡°And so, I part you with this: It would be wiser to let me solve the matter. But if you should so take such action into your own hands, you will not stop. All I wish is to warn you, and a man such as yourself craves warnings and omens. You feast upon them like a starving man because every little speck of information, of possibilities that can be foreseen, that can be digested by your mind, you seize upon with vigor to then feel satisfied. But¡­ perhaps, this action would be best, could it not? Perhaps a man, such as yourself, ought not to be destined to exile and deterioration. This opportunity will send you to troubles beyond your very own understanding. This is an omen and will become true if acted upon instead of merely thought upon.¡±


    Then, without a word, and with me still rooted into my seat, he lifted himself off the seat to the door and opened it. Wind filled the room and its cry clogged my ears. Its shriek forced me to lift my hands to cover my ears but I could not shut it out. Only when the door closed behind him, did the wind cease.


    The rain still continued to pour, but at a far less rigorous rate which allowed a great silence to finally fill the air which had been dominated by constant precipitation. When I had finally managed to regain my sense of agency, I flew out of my chair and outside. I looked all around, from left to right for any sign of that being. But it was fruitless as too much time had passed and the possibilities of his retreat near limitless.


    So I stood there, in the dying rain, humiliated and left with a sense of despair and confusion about having been visited by something far beyond me.

 The Aftermath

    The night¡¯s rest was dreamless and lackluster. I awoke with a yelp and my eyes bursting open, from which I glanced around my dimly lit home from the same seat I was in with my encounter with him. Sweat caked every crevice on my skin. Thankfully, the dreaded visitor did not show his face in my home again. Very little other comfort presented itself to me to which I could somehow grab onto. No matter how much air I took in, I always felt breathless and fatigued. I was confined to my seat for nearly ten minutes when finally the fatigue subsidized enough to where I could stand up.


    The sword on the table frightened me dreadfully as I had placed it on the table before falling asleep. It was anathema to me. An urge to flee and cower, anywhere being sufficient, was deliriously compelling, an almost animalistic sense of logic championed itself. In an instant, I had vacated my chair and was halfway between the table and a wall. Of course, my house was barren so there was no real place to escape. I was hunched over and paralyzed with my eyes never once leaving that rusted sword. The panting returned which made my vision blur but my legs held steady enough for me to regain composure but my lungs remained continually battered. When everything, over the course of minutes, was properly restored and returned back to its rightful place, I broke out into a laugh. Every breath remained back in focus and under strict conscious control. A coughing fit ensued. I struggled to breathe once more but in this manner with air rapidly forsaking me. By reflex, my body returned to the table to lean on and my finger brushed up against the blade of the sword. When everything had come to an end, I felt more exhausted than the day before. I ended up precisely where I had woken up, back onto the seat but very much awake.


    More time passed as I sat, just trapped in a pensive mood and completely at its mercy. I could not stop sweating. A distraction, I figured, was in order for any desperate attempt to bring it to an end. The bucket was back to my lips at first with gentle sips but then turned back into tremendous gulps without time to breathe in between. Before the entirety of the bucket was emptied, I took the last bit of water and dumped it on my head. Droplets of water dripped off my hair and clothes but did nothing to cool me off.


    It was there, just before the doorway, I stood soaked feeling bewildered and belittled by such a tremendous force. Angst competed in full force against embarrassment which rooted my feet into the ground. Every string of my body was pulled in every conceivable direction. At last, it was all too much. The dread and mortified state I had dragged myself into forced me onto my bed. A cowardly dogma rose from the ashes as I pulled a blanket over me. Those necromancers, not even having seen me or known my existence and aided by myself, threatened to conquer myself. I slipped further to the point that I wished to simply vanish or if that angler were to return and devour my spirit. Perhaps a hole would open itself, right out of the ground, and in my home, that would have been preferable than seeing that ¡®man¡¯ again. I could practically see it! In the center, the wood beams of the floor bent downwards and a gaping hole (with no bottom in sight of course!) would be waiting for me. But at my door was ¡®him¡¯ and I shuttered, my stomach lurched and I remained bedbound. My God, if it had happened, I would have dove, head-first into it just to escape it all, even if it meant brushing ever so closer to the angler¡¯s presence.


    Of course, it did not happen. No one but God was watching. Somewhere, Norvin was going to be waiting for me¡­


    The thought of the huntsman waiting for me, bow in hand and myself not arriving galvanized me. A frenzy once more threw me back onto my feet, my spirits mobilized to affront the task I had taken upon myself. My clothes and hair were damp but no longer completely soaked. The overwhelming feeling of disgraced faded, having been extinguished and a new fire having taken its place which pushed my desires in the opposite direction.


    I took the sword and sheath from the table and placed it at my hip. That had felt wonderfully good! Then I threw it back onto the table as quickly as I had donned it, undoing the joy that had so briefly taken me. I began pacing the room in quick circles and giving a speech to myself and all the objects in the room, ¡°It¡¯s so simple! Yes, it is indeed so simple! There is no easier calculation given my personal circumstances that I, yes I! have bestowed upon myself.


    ¡°Out there are men, normal men, men of average complexity and standing amongst the annals of history. To which there is no problem!¡± I cried. A short pause began but I quickly cut it off to continue raving. ¡°But those men do not suffer in the way I do! They suffer, yes and in fact, they suffer more nobly than I. But are they visited by beings like ¡®him¡¯? Maybe they are but how should I know? But even though they have nothing but commoner blood while my veins carry the blood of low nobility and perhaps kingly history if one manages to peer in deeply enough, I am a useless wretch! For they act and all I manage is to think. Bah, it¡¯s enough to trust me into sheer madness!¡±


    ¡°But here lies the challenge! The opportunity! The chance! I have a duly circumstance that I must carry out! Although he has provided me with a dubious omen, it¡¯s quite obvious its benefits. Yet, here I am dreading and thinking and acting in accordance with thinking, which is not the act. Acting in accordance with acting is quite obvious to act! It¡¯s obvious nature does nothing to alleviate the burden, in fact, its difficulty ramps up like a steep mountain.


    ¡°Obsolescence has nearly overtaken me. I am forgotten and lost to the annals of time and history. No mark has been left by me, for good or for ill. All I get are what shall be and what ought to be and surely, yes surely, that can not be sufficient, not to anybody and surely not to me! Because even in my own mind, I forget about myself, it¡¯s like I am a ghost who can only think and feel and not act. My soul longer is joined to my body and all that I fear is dread and not of could come, even death. Perhaps, I do fear death but I have not felt it and I should feel it! Perhaps I am a ghost and if I had tried earlier, I could have escaped him in the most ghostly of fashions, through the wall or passing through the roof! But that can not be the case! I feel thirst and hunger, don¡¯t I?


    ¡°And so right before me are those necromancers! Dealers in death and dark magic which I have seen! There I can conquer my trajectory of being eclipsed with malice with my left and mercy with my right  But that requires action! So God help me, let me act! Don¡¯t let me remain only a spirit, long forgotten by others and myself. Damn that angler! Let it be, let the die be cast!¡±


    I became more animated than ever before and everything fell into motion. Every article of clothing was flung off my body, tossed onto the table beside the sword, and replaced with new clothes but I had no boots. The realization almost sent me thinking, but I stopped and continued. The sword was back at my hip, then I flew to that crate with traveling equipment. Then I ceased but carried on. From within I produced a satchel, swung it over my shoulder, and put a filled waterskin inside. I didn¡¯t even care to shut the crate, not daring to pause the momentum, for when every falls into place, one must let it drop without hindrance. I did long for some pipe tobacco, but I had not even thought to satisfy the urge. Instead, some salted pork and bread were shoved into my satchel, the very same ones I had dropped earlier. With that, all my preparations were complete.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I was sweating all over, and drops were dripping off my nose and fingers. It did not matter, nothing physical that I was feeling mattered, not even starvation. Terror loomed just beyond like it was simply loitering past a corner, waiting for me to pass by. I waited for no observance of the feelings I had. Obscurity in terms of myself to the world and myself to myself were to be confronted, lest unbelievable torment take me.


    My hand gave a boisterous shove against the door that was barely hanging onto its hinges. It did not even dare to creek or moan against the force I had placed against it. Then I stepped outside letting the door timidly shut behind me. From there, I made my march toward the gorge from memory to where terror loomed. That being was still fresh in my mind and I shuttered as I relapsed back into memory, then quickly cast it off, feeling more in control than I had ever been before.


    The journey to the gorge was remarkably simple, if not plagued by pondering. My abode was left behind me as I forded the two shallow rivers and then crossed the final, most difficult one. I looked at the statute once more, just blinded by its age. Its face stared back at me. After a long moment of just merely staring, I made a vow to return in glory and relevance. It was my revolt against the world, a cry against everything that inhabited it, even against my own self.


    As usual, hours were eaten up like hogs to slop. I could not help but jog or at least carry on at a faster pace fearing that Norvin may have given up on me and left. The thought gave me a momentous shiver, my lips convulsed and I was nearly ground to a stop. I had to rest by sitting down next to the path. For nearly fifteen minutes, I lay there in the dirt with my face in my hands. After the break was over, I was on my way with the same pace and momentum I had strived to keep alive, even if it meant that my lungs were lit aflame from running so long.


    Nothing took place for the rest of the trip, just more moments of my life occupied by deep thoughts that were trying their hardest to mount a counterattack against me. My mind was set, however, and they were relegated to merely shout and pout, unable to fully break had I had determined to put it in motion. Yet, they were there and made themselves known, which I knew, would be perpetual but by the very least manageable.


    The pastures were crossed and I turned into the cluster of trees which made up the forest. It was nearly noon which meant that folks who live more normal lives than mine were to have lunch. My stomach growled viciously but I dared not stop again, even but for a moment. Each second was precious and each minute longer to arrive near the gorge meant that Norvin may up and leave me. Worst yet, he¡¯d call the town guards to the problem and everything would be lost. I broke out into a desperate dash for the remaining hour. All types of branches and leaves cut me, all over my arms and face. Once or twice, I wiped sweat dangerously close to blinding me during the trek and my hands had streaks of pale blood on them.


    At last, as I cleared a thick shrub, I saw him! The sight of a huntsman, slightly stooped over and a bottle of brandy in his hand made relief glow from every bone in my body. It was only a few moments later that we exchanged glances. A timid smile first formed on his lips then to a frown and finally confusion.


    Sweat dripped off a strand of hair and hit my foot when I got near. My legs were completely destroyed and I almost knelt down beside him but managed to stay upright and cry, ¡°Norvin, oh thank God, you are here! Please tell me, that no one, yes no one knows of this hideout.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, not a soul besides you and I are aware. But my friend, what has happened to you? Look at yourself, now. My God, you are paler than a cloud and dripping more sweat than a farmer in the summer. Take a seat, yes over there, sit right on down. From the look of things, you have run more today than I have my entire life! You seem like you could use a drink, eh?¡±


    I practically fell onto the ground but having my back up against a tree felt wondrous. It was more than deserved, given the pace I had managed to upkeep for almost the entire journey from my home to Norvin. In his hand was the bottle of brandy, only a quarter left again, but I refused it. Instead, I pulled out the waterskin and eagerly gulped down every drop. ¡°I am just weary,¡± I managed to say in between rapid breaths. ¡°Now, you¡¯ve done what you¡¯ve promised, now, I suppose the main task has befallen me.¡±


    ¡°Now hold on for a moment. You really do mean to go in there? Now?¡±


    I paused for a moment, my eyes peering at his feet. Then I glared up at him. ¡°My soul dies if I don¡¯t. And something¡­ happened to me last night. But enough! That is my issue to contend with, you have more than done your part, and I wish I could thank you more gracefully than I can even manage with words.¡± The satchel at my side seemed too heavy, so I took it off and handed it to him. ¡°I shall return for this. If I do not return in an hour or two, then I am dead. Stay for as long here as your judgment determines. Then go off and alert the guards of this menace.¡± Even after a brief respite, I was still nearly out of breath but urged on by no one but myself, I managed to get onto my feet. ¡°The misfortune of his necromancers is a tremendous fortune for myself, I might as well say! Do remember what I said! And once again, thank you!¡±


    Then I was off forward to make the final trek of only a few hundred yards to the entrance. Anticipation in my heart was nearing the highest I had felt in my life. I was almost there. Only the shuffling of my feet kept me bound to the world, if the soles of my feet had gone numb I am sure flight out of the plane of existence would be possible. After an eternity¡¯s march, I arrived at the gorge.


    I peered into the gorge, stunned by the sudden cut of the ground. The bottom was nearly a ten-foot drop, perhaps the same way wide near the bottom. Further on the gorge went on, it became more cave-like as the ground formed more of its ceiling, and thickened as it bore deeper and deeper into the ground. Carefully and methodically, I let myself down and hit the bottom. To my left was the slope, which would eventually rise to be level with the ground but the left led deeper inside. My legs led the rest of my body as I descended its gentle slope. Above me, the ground became the roof, and the sky was utterly blocked out. The only light was behind me and through tiny little cracks that just barely managed to stream in a hint of sunlight. A thought occurred that a lantern or torch or perhaps anything would be in order but I decided against it. My eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and I let myself hunch down as the ceiling caved in rapidly. I was crouching and crawling after forty yards.


    I traveled for nearly a hundred yards more to the point it was nearly midnight black, and only the tiniest of cracks shined light. Everything was completely cloaked in utter darkness and I felt awfully like a bat. Then, I nearly hit the end when I almost tripped on something. My hand was stretched out when it touched the wall, or more aptly, a door. The end of the tunnel had been found! I felt the entrance shift as my weight had been turned forward. It was a good bit of luck, but I would have searched all over as I saw a necromancer enter the gorge, something lay in there. Yet luck had saved me good time and frustration. Groping around fruitlessly for an entrance that I believed to have existed would have driven me into another realm of madness.


    With a gentle shove, the entrance opened, which was a door more akin to stone than a true door. Somehow there were hinges as it swung aside. There was not a sound, not even a glimpse of it. But just beyond was a faint light, but was purple, from a torch or something of the like. The hideout was just beyond me. Not even the thought of the angler stopped me as I stepped beyond the door and inside.

 Of Mercy and Malice

    A radical change in the order of the world was immediately presented to me. I was in a room, no doubt a room as the walls were not made of dirt but of old stone bricks. A chandelier above me was lit but emitted purple instead of a homely yellow glow. There were no furnishings and out ahead lay another hallway. I scarcely made a sound and tiptoed forward. Oh how I wished then to have been smoking, it would have eased the tension. Yet, clandestine actions do not merit smoking or fear. The sword at my hip remained at my hip and nowhere else. It would remain there until the moment was precisely right. In between deep breaths, I crossed the room and entered the hallway, having out the distance between me and the exit even farther away.


    It seemed more like a tunnel than anything else. On the walls were dim candles on sconces. Purple on the right side and red on the left. ¡°Where is the yellow,¡± I thought to myself. ¡°There¡¯s no natural glow here, this place is a scourge against God,¡± I answered to myself. These bastards were being lumped in with me. Oh, how furious I had felt! A nasty scowl covered my face and my nose wrinkled in disgust. I could put this ordeal in order and finally have thrust myself into a higher standing, but that lay across a confrontation. And for a confrontation to occur, they would actually need to be right in front of me. Nevertheless, the end gave way to another doorway which seemed to only have a distant light within. I crossed the threshold and entered the next room.


    I was upon a large wooden platform held up by multiple beams, down the front were stairs that led to the bottom. Out and away the ¡®room¡¯ stretched out but I quickly found out that it was a massive cavern! How dreadfully had I misjudged how established these necromancers were! It was big enough to contain multiple houses along the bottom. My eyes shifted to the top of the cavern and it seemed to move, then I realized the bits of red mist that shifted and swayed were meant to be clouds, tainted by red but not white. A small glowing orb of light was meant to be the moon, but it shone purple, giving the whole cavern a sickly violet hue. The ceiling was meant to be a sky in the dead of night but outside was in the afternoon. Human handiwork would never be able to create such a ceiling without assistance from nefarious sources. Down and away, I saw the quivering of a fire behind what looked like trees. How confusing it was to witness trees, underground no less! A wicked mimicry of what lay only yards above.


    My conscious raved and wailed as I made my descent as silent as a cat. But my mind was akin to a whirlwind that roared. It must¡¯ve been at least three floors worth of stairs as it took a laborious amount of time to finally reach the lower level. At last, my foot reached not a stair but solid dirt and thus on the same level as that fire I had seen just at the top.


    In the distance, I heard voices, no doubt the necromancers! They were at the end of the coven and the gap between them and I was quickly being closed. Carefully maneuvering each step, I brushed past boulders and old ruined houses made of stone, at least that is what I believed them to be. They could have been sunken, somehow, I figured, from above. Or perhaps built by an older set of hideaways and these new settlers had merely transformed the place. It was history long forgotten and never to be retrieved once more. A wicked history that perhaps ought to be left to rot.


    Still, rather than take the path that cut straight down the middle, I opted to navigate the miniature set of ruins. My breathing became labored and my eyes strained in the darkness. A wild smile crept onto my face without my permission. Confrontation was rapidly approaching. My heart drummed against my ribs, almost threatening to burst out and destroy my concealed approach. I let a hand rest by my sword for a moment, but quickly pulled it away as if the sword was burnt metal and forced myself to make do without leaning on immediate violence.


    Finally, I could make out the voice as I stood behind the final structure before the campfire and trees.


    ¡°Perhaps, collecting another subject would be far too rash¡­¡± said a man¡¯s voice, uncertainty caked into every word.


    A woman¡¯s voice scolded the man, ¡°Coward! Don¡¯t you understand? We are so very close to completion. Therein lies your problem, always seeming to bow out right before the finale. Can¡¯t you conquer your cowardly heart? How much must I beat you into believing what is right?¡±


    ¡°But perhaps someone is already onto us? Disappearing subjects makes a duke question things, what if they have guards raid us and knights ride us down on the road? What if fifty men, all armed with swords and crossbows with inquisitors trailing them, find us? What of it then? I say we rest, for a few weeks and let all the troubles dissipate, even a little.¡±


    ¡°You and your paranoia!¡± hissed the woman with venom. ¡°We are concealed and covert, no knight or raging guardsman can stop us! Now, I order you to go out there, perhaps right now to nab that huntsman! He¡¯s likely in a drunken stupor like usual. No easier target than that predictable man! Must I do the heavy work because you are no better than a slug?¡±


    My curiosity finally overpowered me. I leaned around the corner and took a peak.


    Indeed, there were two necromancers, both wearing black cloaks and boots, sitting near the fire. The man was bare-headed with a shaved head. He looked awfully terrified as his hands were clasped together but his legs fidgeted wildly. Right beside him was what I figured carried the womanly voice. On her head was a black hood of some sort, one that completely encased the head and neck, her hands donned black gloves as well. Other than her figure, I could not immediately tell if she was human or not. Perhaps under the cloak, gloves and hood was rotted skin or just bone. From where I stood and what was covered, I had no way of knowing. The possibilities brought on by pure wickedness were limitless.


    While they continued to debate, or rather, the man continually scolded by the woman, I turned back around the corner. If I were quick, I could retreat all the way back up to the platform, dash out into the gorge and alert Norvin. Yet, that would admit total defeat! I nearly let a whimper escape me as I deliberated. Knights and guardsmen, yes they could sort out the issue and they, or at least one, feared them like no other, yet it would cost me my own soul. But that cloaked woman gave me a fright like no other. What she was capable of was most certainly beyond me, perhaps just as beyond as the angler. What was the angler doing at that very moment? I had no the slightest of ideas, perhaps that spirit was watching me, right then and there. All the while I knew that Norvin was above ground polishing off another bottle of brandy, no man like him only carries on completely sober, especially if they are likely to wait a long while. Then the man would nab him! That is, if I fail or linger too long and he would be helpless, and fall into a horrible stupor.


    Finally, I had enough! I threw off the gauntlet. Action was at hand! The final die was cast. Tossing the last remnants of debate, still raging in my head, I ventured out around the corner and crept my way forward, out into the open. In my haste to escape my head, I had not even drawn my sword or adopted a kind of structured gait. I merely emerged out of the darkness and toward the fire, like a curious beast in a forest.


    Moments dragged forward but at last, my glare, striking the man with such intensity, was met with his. Shock struck him and his face convulsed with confusion and terror. Unlike the angler¡¯s, the stare was feeble and brittle. The man simply melted upon my gaze. Then the woman swiveled her head at me. So she could see through the hood! The realization invigorated me and filled me with dread simultaneously.


    ¡°Such an odd place for a couple, and as an odd man, I recognize habits such as these,¡± I said with an unsteady voice and then stopped before them. They sat opposing me and across the fire, which looked like it was licking their faces from where I stood.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± cried the man.


    ¡°I suppose I ought to ask you the same question! But I suppose I do not need to answer, for I know much more about you than you do of I.¡± A silence followed as I merely stood, then I continued, ¡°Well indeed, this is a coven much beyond the likes of I, no doubt! Yes, yes this is the most intriguing of places one could sequester themselves in. I refuse to believe that a man and a woman could carve out such an abode like this. I am certainly no architect, in fact, I can barely tie two logs together! But the red clouds and purple moon (if you could call them that as I know they are not truly real!) are quite the sight for a man such as myself!¡±


    ¡°Impossible!¡± shouted the man. ¡°You¡­ you do not look the part of a townsman or a guardsman or most certainly a knight, so who are you, a hermit of some kind?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the woman with a calm voice. ¡°Where is it you hail from?¡±


    ¡°Ah, indeed you are correct by every account of your estimation! I am a hermit by choice, exile by my own decision, that is. But now, even though I do not carry a banner of an army or am some kind of guard, of any kind, I am worse. Yes, I am far worse than that! Indeed despite the worst of beings having graced me not too long ago, what bodes for the future here brings a worse fate. For you two, you have transgressed me in the most terrible of fashion!¡±


    ¡°A madman!¡± squealed the woman with glee. For in her mind, I was the most perfect of solutions; a lone madman in their cove. There I was, completely and utterly alone against the power that she no doubt held. But once again, she had made a transgression against me, now in the realm of identification.


    ¡°A righteous man! A man of the most sound state of mind in the entirety of the world!¡± I corrected. ¡°Now you two are most definitely hermits but not of the correction fashion, you see. I am an enlightened man, a man who has thrown off the great shackles of consciousness, if but for a moment! Now, I have watched you now for over two weeks, that is how I found you! No matter how much effort you have fruitlessly labored to remain hidden from every eye in the world, I have journeyed to the very spot we stand today.¡±


    The woman stood up, circled the fire and stood beside me. Of course, the hood hid every expression her ¡°face¡± could have made. Nonetheless, she had made her way just to the left of me and tried to guide me to a stone to sit down with her, ¡°Come now, take a seat next to me and bask in the warmth of the fire!¡± I sat down, she nearly followed suit by sitting on my lap. My glare, which she must have taken as crazed instead of contempt, dissuaded her and she positioned herself nearly up against my shoulder. A dark shadow loomed over me as her figure could not contain the spirit she possessed. ¡°Do you know how I started this fire? Hush hush, he knows¡± (her finger led to the other man who was now shriveling up like a snail in the sun without a shell) ¡°but he does not care! I made it by the palm of my hands! Notice there is not another source of fire close by? This is the power I have cultivated, much too slowly by him, but perhaps a man, wild in all his mind desires such power, hm?¡±


    The proposition was preposterous, by all accounts. They were not like me in the slightest! I nearly spat on the ground in disgust but all that was displayed was the most subtle wrinkle of my nose. Her words were the most heinous insult I have ever hurled against me. But she cared little and misjudged who I truly was. Not even the devil or his doorman (lackeys if one wishes to be noble about their role hmph!) could penetrate my consciousness, as that lay my greatest torturer and seducer. Nothing in existence can outdo me in the realm of dictating the experience of my consciousness.


    From what they could see was a hermit who looked worse for wear, still damp from sweat and unmistakably impoverished. I swiveled my head at her and then to the man. ¡°You there, you have shame-ridden every crevice in your face. There is despair! Yes, despair, don¡¯t you feel it? Have I, a stranger, overshadowed you? Ha ha! That¡¯s it!¡± I leaped up and got buried far too deep in thought. ¡°I am enlightened but oh so foolish. I am a coward. I am a total wretch! Roaches and leeches are above me in worth, no doubt, as I am a hermit by choice. Yet, here is a chance to reverse such conditions! To become a roach is still to change and a leech feasts off the blood of a hoist.


    ¡°I desire no such transformation, no not in the slightest! I seek transformation into enlightenment, to relevance (to myself at least haha!), and to overcome and bypass a terrible shadow, a humiliating and degrading shadow, by every stretch of the imagination. For perhaps, I have thought of something new, or most likely not, yet it is new to me, a line of consciousness that for once can elevate me away from my dreadful state. The diligence required to recognize the acts, malice and mercy.¡±


    ¡°Truly a madman!¡± she cried with absolute glee. Once more she rose up and circled next to me. That time, however, she wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder. I continued to stare at the man, who looked crushed by every sense of the word. He was slumped ever so slightly and misty eyed. His entire world had been crushed, by accident no doubt from his perspective. Yet I was filled with simmering rage. A low whisper was lent to my ear and I could hear the sneer from behind the hood, ¡°Smite him! You are perfect to me! And take his robe when you¡¯ve finished what you truly desire.¡±


    I spoke to him, ¡°Do you believe in mercy?¡±


    ¡°In what sense?¡± he said.


    ¡°In what sense? I cried. ¡°In every sense of the word! Isn¡¯t mercy perhaps one of the greatest characters of us? So I ask again: do you believe in mercy?¡±


    He stopped and pondered deeply. What ran through his mind, I shall never know but the pause was long and labored. Only the fire filled the air with sound, all else was utterly quiet.


    At last he spoke once more, ¡°I do believe in mercy.¡±


    A miracle! ¡°For who? Who should believe in mercy? Who ought to believe it shall come around for them? Are you sincere, in every sense of the word?¡±


    ¡°I do hope so,¡± he whimpered, his eyes breaking off of mine.


    My mind was made. At once, every voice in my head ceased. For the first time everything was silent between my ears. It was as if the stars aligned, and had lined up so perfectly, I could scarcely breathe. The final break in consciousness to action had transcended me. All that was meant to be was rapidly coming to a head.


    I pushed her aside and stood opposing her. ¡°Three have entered this wicked coven. Only two will leave and I have decided who.¡±


    Quicker than lightning, my right hand had the sword which I transferred to my left. The man leaped away and cowered, ducking away from the struggle completely. During this rapid flight of moments, she hissed some curses and began to draw flames to her hands. It was no use as I was too quick and far too close. Her misjudgment of me had cost her everything, malice was abound.


    I rammed the rusty sword through her body, the other end bursting out her back. A violent, wicked screech was let out into the air. She writhed and writhed on my blade with pain obscuring her ability to cast. My jaw was clenched so tightly which nearly made my teeth shatter from the pressure. Then, for a final blow, I swung her aside and tossed her into the raging fire.


    Her howls were cut short and I stood beside a burning, demonic corpse with the sword still lodged into it. Only the crackling of the fire escaped to be heard along with my heavy panting from such a physical and mental feat.


    From behind, the man rose up. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°Perhaps my life ought to amount to something better than this.¡±


    I turned to meet him. ¡°I suppose¡­ I suppose. Now go and act, and act quickly! Do not stop to ponder for too long, ha ha! Or lest you¡¯ll end up like me!¡± He hesitated to merely melt into the shadows and flee. ¡°Go! There¡¯s a huntsman up there above, the very one you feared to nab, a good man, from my line of judgment. Go to him and say, ¡®The man from between the river deltas is merely resting by a fire and will arrive shortly.¡¯ That is all, now go and act in better faith! Lest you become insincere and meet malice instead of mercy. Now I want to rest, if but a moment and fully digest what has happened to me.¡±


    That finally had cast him off. At last, I was alone once more. I sat down by the fire again and fell into reflection. Her corpse was beginning to turn into ash when at last, my thoughts retreated.


    Up above me was the huntsman and as I rose to go and make the trek, a great wave of joy coursed through me. A satisfying smile crept onto my lips. Let it be known, that a pathetic man from between the river deltas can perhaps have his own place in the sun.


    FIN