Forgotten

By R.T. Heath

A black-stoned sword is bestowed only on those marked for death.

After waking up stabbed and with no memory of who he is, Claeg's only clue to his identity is the sword - set with a black stone - that's found with him when he's pulled from a drifting, bloody boat. Even Claeg is just a name the healer gives him. All he does know

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.T. Heath
• Release date: Mar 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578873022

R.T. Heath

R.T. Heath is a twenty-six-year-old graduate of Appalachian State University, having majored in English and Psychology. That said, he prefers to save his words for the page rather than to describe his own person, and sees himself as someone who would quietly carry a blue-stoned sword in the world of Moktlain.

Book preview

Darkness

Reaching out like an arm, the rope grabbed the small wooden boat, as if to pry it from the river’s white fangs. But the savage river fought back, not wanting to relinquish its prey. The rope drew itself taught, halting the vessel’s flow with a jerk, and yet the boat’s fare did not wake. Inch by inch, the rope was able to extract its prize from the river’s rabid bite.

Wood met dirt with a thud. Those on the other end of the rope gathered round to peer into their catch. Much to their dismay, there was no courier with goods or foodstuffs. Only a sleeping man dressed in rags, clutching onto a cloth-wrapped staff. At the very least, they thought they might relieve him of his craft. It wasn’t seaworthy enough for the waters he travelled anyway, and they did technically save his life. The band set themselves to the task of trying to remove the stranger without waking him. As difficult as the task would normally be, it was more so because the man was soaked to the bone from the river, or so they thought. However, as they began to gently lift him, the lantern holder cried for them to cease. That which made their hands slip ran thicker than water. 

✦✦✦

The world blurred together into one black mess as he opened his eyes. The air stung as it found its way into his lungs. Checking his surroundings, he found them unfamiliar. On the other hand, he could not think of a place that was. His mind was as dark as the stone hut he lied in, with only a scrap of light peeking through the battered door, creaking on its rusted hinges.

He tried to sit up to check if he was alone, but the pain surging from his body wouldn’t allow for that. Setting his hand on his chest, he felt blood-crusted bandages crack under his fingers, with more blood beginning to seep through. Someone had to have put them there. It was decided that the best thing would be to wait for his host to return, and so he waited in silence. He waited until any trace of light faded away. Sleep overtook him before he saw any signs of life.

He awoke again the next morning, having regained some vitality and missing some patience. The pain was far number than the day before, so the cold, stone walls became his crutch until he made his way to the door. He forced the door open with his weight. Sunlight flooded in. A young fire, just beginning its work on some sort of stew, welcomed him. Limping a few feet more, he all but fell on a dead-log bench. Still, there was no one to be seen.

Nevertheless, his shaking hands saw the stew tended to, and as the fire matured, so did the scent pouring from the cauldron. If ever there was a body in need of nourishment it was his, he thought, but he did not eat. Best not to offend a stranger after all. Temptation coursed quickly through his veins, and soon he found himself lifting the ladle to his nose. No sooner had he done this, though, then a smack came cracking across the back of his head. Turning, he was met with the sight of a shriveled, elderly woman in a black dress with a blue sash looking down on him as if here were an idiot child. 

My cooking not good enough for you, eh? she chided. He remained quiet, confused.

Well go on then. I've cooked for you two days in a row now. Least you can do is eat it, you daft clod. The sooner you regain some strength, the sooner you can walk out of here and stop wasting my time and ingredients.

Without another word she walked into the hut. Fearing further rebuke, he satiated himself with the greater portion of the pot. It wasn’t just the food that satisfied. There was a calm in this place, as if it were far from the darkness that crept in everywhere people were found. Even the fire seemed as though it had no ambition to burn anything other than the wood it fed on.

Peaceful thoughts grew darker, though, as he reflected less on the world and more on himself. Ever since he'd regained consciousness, he'd been becoming steadily more aware that he was unfamiliar with the past. Not just that he didn’t know where he was. He knew not who he was. Not his name, not his home, nothing. Nothing about himself at least. Cold sweat seeped out from the stress of trying to force memories that were not there, and the more strenuously he thought, the less he was sure he grasped.

It might do to ask the old woman, he thought. Perhaps she was not showing such kindness to a stranger. He hobbled into the hut, once again finding his healer sitting quite still. Her eyes were closed, and she made no sound. He didn’t wish to interrupt her, but…

You have questions, she said, breaking her silence.

I do, if you wouldn’t mind, he rasped, getting on his knees.

I’m afraid I will not be able to provide the answers you seek, but ask away.

Do you…know who I am? the elder gave an indignant huff.

You haven’t even asked who I am, and you’re already asking who you are. Quite the philosopher, aren’t we?

No. I only meant–

I know what you meant. However, no personal suffering ever excuses rudeness.

You are right, he said. I apologize, and I would like to know you. It's just that I'm…muddled at the moment. Please, let me know who it is that I owe my life to. He bowed his head.

Mm, that’s better. My name is Altha. I am the medicine-woman of this town. But it is not solely me to thank for your life.

Who else?

A group of young men carried you here after finding you bleeding in a boat. Though if you ask me, they were probably only trying to rob you when they found you. 

He paused. He couldn’t even remember why he'd been bleeding, much less being pulled from the water. 

Was there anyone else with me in the boat?

She shook her head. I’m afraid not. The only other thing they found was this. The woman produced a long, cloth-wrapped object.

I thought you said they were thieves. If so, why did they leave this?

Terrible fates await those who rob the dead, or soon-to-be. The people around here hold onto such beliefs.

Morality in the loosest sense.

Say what you like, but you would be dead, had they not tried to rob you.

She handed over the artifact. His arms fell into his lap, not ready for the weight just yet. He held it gently, being the only clue he might have to finding out who he was.

It's all you had.

He tore off the wrappings, astonished by the mastery of the work. The hilt shone like silver and light danced off the blade. The sword was a bright display of form and function forged together, all except the pommel. Laid into the grip was a black gem that gave back none of the light it stole. It was as dark as the inside of his head. He wasn't optimistic enough to think that he came by this sword through any legitimate means. He had been found stabbed thrice in a moving boat, after all.

Draw the blade already, will you, Altha interjected. Swords that pretty are normally branded with insignias of their houses.

His grip tightened around the handle, and with a single, swift motion, the blade was released. The blade only added to the craftsmanship of the weapon. It was more used than it seemed, and unquestionably sharp. Both parties inspected the blade closely, but there was no mark. 

Could it be this sword was unfinished? he asked aloud. Altha did not answer. There isn’t any sign that a mark was ground out. 

Again, Altha did not answer. She only held out her hands, and once he had given back the sword, she wrapped it in the cloth and put it away in a chest that sat in the corner of the hut. 

It’s best not to trouble the mind when the body has so much work to do, was her only explanation. Afterwards, she told him to get some more rest, but his attempts came to no avail. No matter how long he waited, it seemed that sleep had been locked inside the chest with his sword. 

When next morning came, he rose in search of Altha. He found her tending to the pot. He retook his place on the log, and they ate together in silence. When both had finished, he had questions of a more mundane nature.

This town is known as Rahulik, Altha explained. Means 'Peace.' Small village, hidden inside a forest clearing.

How deep in are we?

Half a mile?

Not much protection.

Enough to keep the superstitious away. Bandits and the like. Plenty nearby as close to Dracul as we are.

The city? Second largest in the kingdom?

The same. You might should go that way, when you're healed, unless you choose to stay here, for whatever reason. A man who never travels is a man who never finds new answers.

I'm not sure, but I think I've been before.

Hmph. Well, enough of that. Time to start repaying your debts.

She told him that from now on, she would begin assigning him tasks that would aid in her daily duties. These tasks would also serve to help train his body to remember its strength. Today, his task was to walk through the village and familiarize himself with it.

I don't want to have to tell you where to go every time I send you out. And if you can do some decent work, I might even cook something special.

He began with the area immediate to the hut. The woods Altha spoke of weren't far behind, and since they were a border, he did not continue past them. There was also a small garden behind the hut, growing mainly medicinal herbs, but there were spices there as well. Just south of the garden was the beginning of the man-made village border, neighboring the woods. This was a tree-trunk fence topped with sharpened points and sunken deep into the ground. These trees did not seem to be of the same breed as the trees to the east, though. Turning back northward, he passed another hut, which seemed to be empty, for no one came when he knocked. This second hut was situated close to a river. He wondered if this was the same river that had tried to claim his life. West of the river lied farmland where the villagers toiled. These people gave him no heed, even seeming to treat him with scorn. No matter to whom he tried to speak, they would turn away in favor of the dirt they were working. This bothered him less than it seemed it should, but then again, he didn’t feel like he was one to care for the opinions of strangers. In the southwest was a storehouse, which he did not go near, fearing he might offend those who filled it. In between the storehouse and the hut, he found a longhouse, meant for the village leader, no doubt. But as he was about to knock, Altha appeared behind him and caught his hand.

No one has lived there for many years, she explained.

Why is that, I wonder?

After the previous leader died, there was no man or woman brave enough to pick up the mantle.

And no one foolish enough to think they could?

Not even the fools of this village desire that seat. The last few heads have met with less than decent ends.

Killed? he asked warily.

That’s the suspicion about the latest.

And what of the others?

A fact. Come.

Altha walked away from the longhouse, heading to the center of town. When she stopped, he stood in awe of the Great Tree that stood before him, like a spear that pierced the sky itself. And as he walked closer to the tree, the more he recalled the warmth he had felt on the first day after his revival. It was not that the tree had any magic hold over him. What gave him peace was the simple fact that this tree had survived to this size without being felled or burned by the passing of the world. 

Every pike in the border wall was once a branch of this tree, spoke Altha.

It’s amazing. The awestruck words fell out of his mouth.

It’s just a damn tree if you ask me.

He hadn’t thought Altha so irreverent. Then why did you show me?

Because if ever any one of those mindless villagers means you ill, make it to this tree and they can do nothing.

A sanctuary? It deserves such an honor. No doubt this tree is what inspired the first settlers to choose this place.

Pfft. Your mind is almost as full of sap as that tree. 

For the first time, he felt a tad indignant. The snubs of the strangers didn't bother him less, but this was personal.

And why shouldn’t I find this beautiful? he asked angrily.

What do you see when you look at this tree? Altha asked.

A remnant. A survivor. A member of the world untouched by war.

You’ve come close, but you’re not looking at the whole picture. Indeed, this tree is a survivor.

Then–

"The sole survivor. Look around you. The reason you find this tree so awful is that there are no others like it, but there were. The world was once filled with trees such as this, covered in darkness. And we destroyed them so that we could have light."

He fell silent. He understood what she felt the tree represented, but was it so wrong to appreciate what was left?

At least it means that we haven't destroyed everything yet.

He wasn’t about to go on trying to change Altha’s mind, though. It wouldn’t be of any use trying to convince her otherwise, so again they walked in silence, back to her hut. They ate the same stew, and he restlessly slept on the same rough patch of ground, waiting for the day when his strength would allow him to leave. 

✦✦✦

Stiffness had begun to set in the break of the next day, and standing to his feet gave him trouble. After breakfast, Altha handed him a small knife, sending him to a well to fill a bucket for shaving. He struggled on the walk up, taking more than a few moments to rest, but he made it before the sun was too high.

The bucket wasn't much for a mirror, but the falling stubble told him he was black of hair. The silhouette outlined a strong chin and cheekbones, but that was as much as he could tell, so he decided to make his way to the lake for a better look. 

It was a rough walk. The water was maybe a little more than a mile from Altha's hut, but still, his legs felt like fire was burning in his bones as sweat ran from his hairline and down the side of his face.

The water provided the first real mirror he'd had. He was most likely in the third decade of his life, with two eye-catching features. The first was a small, vertical scar on the left side of his chin, where no hair pierced through. The second was his eyes, a bright green as might be found in the ocean. It was not a bad face, in his opinion. 

The trip back to the hut went much faster than before. There was another, larger, house just in eyeshot of the lake, but he didn’t have the energy to make any new acquaintances. He passed no one on the way back, and had seen no one on the way there. Odd, considering Altha’s role in the community. Someone in the village had to be ill or in pain from laboring harder than their body could handle. It wasn’t his place to question the villagers’ ways as an invader.  

When he had arrived back at the fire, Altha saw him and snickered.

You take nearly ten years off when you shave.

What’s the matter? Don’t like it? he quipped back, grasping his chin.

It’s not too bad, I guess. Not the ugliest I’ve seen. Still need to shear that head of yours, but that can wait for tomorrow.

The meal that evening was accompanied by a concoction of some sort of herbal tea steeped in milk. Not very refreshing, but the herbs would help him heal faster, she said, now that he could safely ingest them.

Tomorrow, she said as he sipped, someone will come by and you're to help them carry firewood back from the woods. A week’s supply should be enough, but I don't want you overburdening yourself! Hear?

Yes ma'am, he smiled sarcastically.

He slept with ease that night. Partly due to the strain of the day’s journey, and maybe for the fact that he had something to look forward to the next day. Even if his partner was a villager who deigned not to speak to him, they had at least agreed to walk with him. The next day would not be quite so lonely. Rising with the sun, he walked to the door, and began to throw it open with vigor. Unfortunately, the door was stopped by something on the other side, which he could hear hitting the ground with a moan. He no longer wanted to open the door. Nevertheless, he peaked through to meet his guide. A young woman was picking herself up from the ground. She had short, chestnut hair that traced the line of her chin. Her skin was fair, and she wore a cream-colored tunic with red lace over a brown dress that covered her arms. This was fastened around her waist with a blue sash, much like the one Altha wore. Draped over her shoulders was a long, green cloak. His mouth filled with shame, which he had to swallow to rid himself of. 

I’m sorry, he said, offering her a hand a bit too late.

She smiled back. It’s quite alright. I doubt you did it on purpose. He cracked a slight smile. I’m Elethia. I’ll be working with you today.

Right. And I’m… he paused. He didn’t really know what to say in this situation.

Claeg, wasn’t it? she chimed.

Who now?

Your name is Claeg, isn’t it? That’s what my mother said, at least.

Your mother? he was becoming steadily more confused, but for Elethia, it seemed as though everything had just dawned on her.

I’m guessing she didn’t tell you, then. I am Altha’s daughter. And I’m guessing your name isn’t Claeg, is it? 

I guess it is now. The truth is, I have no memory of my past, much less my name.

Oh, I’m sorry. She never told me that.

She never told me that she had a daughter.

I supposed as much, though it would have been nice if she’d told you when to expect me.

Agreed.

Claeg and Elethia exchanged smiles. She reached into a sac hanging at her side and produced a bundle of clothes, which she handed to him.

Not sure that they'll fit, but I heard that you've been wearing rags. These will at least be more comfortable.

Th-thank you, he took the bundle. I'm truly grateful for the gesture.

He began back into the hut in order to change, but she stopped him.

Before you change, we're supposed to head back to the lake. Altha told me to help you cut your hair.

He wondered why it was that Altha was so concerned with his appearance. Howbeit, he consented to follow her back to the lake. As they were approaching, Elethia grabbed his arm to stop him. She pointed out that there were other villagers gathering water.

The lake must have room enough for both groups, Claeg jested. Elethia stared back blankly.

She hasn’t told you anything, has she?

Claeg did not know how to take this, so he did not respond. They just waited quietly until the others had filled their buckets and gone on their way. When the bank was clear, she had him wet his hair thoroughly and then take a seat on a large stone. When she started, the hair at the front of his head could be pushed back to his neck. However, with his preference to guide her, it stuck out only an inch or two. The walk back gave it time to dry before he donned his new robes. These consisted of a long, night-blue tunic, black pants, and a faded gray cloak with a hood. He also received a black pair of boots with a belt, and a small dagger to hang on it. When he emerged, Elethia nodded in approval. No one unaware would look at him and say he’d been at death’s door mere days ago.

✦✦✦

As time went by, fishing became a well-liked hobby of Claeg’s. It gave him time alone, not that it was in short supply with Altha disappearing to wherever she went during the days. The time gave Claeg a chance to hone his senses again. He closed his eyes and listened to the world around him, trying to pay attention to everything at once. The calls of birds. The dancing of grass. The wind blowing through the pines as they whispered to one another. It was more compulsion than reason that drove him. Something inside him said he was not as focused as he normally was. Something he was dreadfully aware of.

As he passed his days on the banks, a change occurred in the people of Rahulik. At first, they had avoided him, retreating from the lake and waiting to fetch their water when he had done his fishing for the day. Claeg had tried to schedule his fishing around their needs, but it seemed that whatever time he fished, someone was there, staring at the back of his head with an empty bucket in their hand. Maybe it was intentional; a group effort to drive him away from the lake completely.

But that time had passed. Claeg guessed they'd gotten tired of avoiding him, and their active antipathy had faded into a mindful disdain. They watched him with scornful eyes as they dipped their buckets into the water, watching him as if he was going to attack while their backs were turned. Claeg ignored them in return. He had little desire to be in the company of strangers when he was yet a stranger to himself.

Claeg sat so the lapping water stretched just inches from his feet, listening as the lake hummed alongside the whistle of the wind. He closed his eyes gently. The sound of someone plopping down beside him drummed against his ear.

Elethia, he greeted.

Don’t think I'm quite that fair, but thank you for the compliment, a low voice chuckled.

Claeg opened his eyes. A man around his own age, with light brown hair had taken a seat beside him, and was starting to bait a hook of his own. That man cast his line onto the water, not landing it quite as far as Claeg's. Claeg mimicked the narrow-eyed gaze the villagers had given him thus far as he watched his new companion.

Name's Ian, he said with a nod.

Claeg.

Bring any trouble with you?

Claeg smiled. At least Ian was honest. No.

Planning to cause any?

No.

Ian didn’t offer any reaction, only stared outward, waiting. Claeg turned back out too. They waited in silence together, occasionally taking turns to disturb the peace by catching something, and when the endeavor had shown enough profit, Ian left with a single word.

Tomorrow.

And for the next few tomorrow's, the fishing was less lonely, but still silent. It was good. Then Ian stopped coming.

It was no more than two weeks after his arrival to Rahulik, though, that Claeg was destined to clash with its people. It began as most days, journeying to the lake and spending most of the sun’s cycle meditating, interrupted only by fish who had given into temptation. He was listening to the flowing of the water when a rustle came from his basket. His eyes snapped open to reveal the face of a young, white fox poking up with one of Claeg’s catch in tooth. With a grin, Claeg reached out. The fox ducked for fear of harm, but the fisherman plucked him up by the scruff, offered a brief hello, and was immediately struck surprised.

Nine tails… Claeg muttered. This creature wasn't unheard of in folk tales. The fox whimpered pathetically, making its amber eyes as big as possible, and so was set at its captor’s side and scratched between the ears. Hesitantly, sensing no harmful intent on Claeg's part, the fox started to devour its not so hard-won feast. When it was finished, the fox barked and ran back from whence it came.

This exchange repeated itself for a few days, and soon Claeg began looking out for his friend's arrival. It became such a routine that Claeg thought it was time his small friend received a name.

How about… Claeg started, picking up the fox, running his fingers down its back. So soft! Aylen? The fox's ear dipped. Claeg lifted it a little higher.

Girl, eh? Then what about Vex? The fox’s ear perked up. It seemed irritated more than pleased. Claeg stared into its eyes.

Vexahlia? To his pleasure, her tails wagged in a wave of fur. 

I’ll take that as close as a yes I’m going to get, Vex. The fox stared with resigned acceptance. Say, Vex, why don’t you follow me home tonight, and you can eat with us?

Vex gekkered excitedly, almost as if she’d understood. When it was time to head back, Vex hopped inside Altha's basket and let herself be carried. Claeg had caught plenty, so he decided to surprise Elethia with a few as a gift, but the real surprise came when Vex popped her head from the basket.

Who is this little one? Elethia cooed.

This is Vex, my fishing partner.

Risky choice.

Not at all. I catch the fish, and she checks them for quality, Claeg scratched Vex between the ears.

Elethia laughed. I guess that’s one type of partnership.

Indeed, but I had better begin my way back to Altha’s.

You should come by again sometime, and the two of you can eat with me.

We just might. With a slight bow, Claeg walked away.

Altha received the guest less warmly, but as long as it ate from Claeg’s share, she didn’t care. At least, that was her attitude at first. When Vex stepped out from the basket, something changed.

You failed to mention that 'Vex' had nine tails. Altha leaned closer to Vex, folding her arms in disapproval. Even her brow sunk deeper than usual.

I thought it was rather self-evident.

Not from the inside of a basket.

Claeg defensively picked Vex up by her stomach, and held her close. Is it a problem?

It could be. Some myths say a fox’s cunning increases with its tails.

So far all Vex seems to be interested in is my fish. Vex's ears perked at the word.

Let’s keep it that way.

She’s really quite smart. I doubt she would do anything that would anger us.

Already assuming some loyalty, aren't we?

Off-put by the question, Claeg held Vex tighter. Why would she do such a thing? Name a reason.

There are only three reasons animals do anything. They act for food, shelter, and the species. My guess is that as Vex grows, fish will no longer satisfy her appetites. So be warned, Claeg.

This was the first time he'd heard Altha actually say the name she had given him. It felt like a punishment. In truth, it was a warning. One that went entirely ignored. So in the coming days, Vex came to live, eat, and sleep alongside Claeg, and the quiet villagers took note.

A few days passed. One morning, before dawn, Claeg startled at the sound of someone beating on the door. Altha had already gone. Claeg wondered if she slept at all. Where does she even go, he thought, pulling on his tunic and going to the door. A less-than-pleased villager waited with the dew.

Where is it then? he pried in a gruff tone.

Come again? was Claeg's sleep-addled reply.

Don’t play daft with me. Where is that fox that’s always trailing you around?

First, they won't speak to me, and now they're waking me up to make accusations. Sorry, but I think we’ve skipped something. I’m Claeg.

The man blinked. What?

My name, it’s Claeg.

The villager stared back, dumbfounded. Claeg waited patiently. I’m Daven, he droned.

Pleasure, Daven. Now, you were asking about the fox?

Yes–

Why? Claeg snapped.

B-Because the beast has broken into the henhouse! Killed two hens and crushed half a dozen eggs. We need to put a stop to the problem.

Claeg fumed. And you’ve seen this for yourself?

The others have told me, Daven answered defensively, breaking eye contact.

Claeg leaned in. Do the others tell you most things?

I don’t like what you’re implying, man.

I share the sentiment. Now, until you see something for yourself, don't come knocking again. Claeg shut the door and waited until he heard Daven huff away. He turned. There Vex was, sleeping, not a drop of blood to be found on her white coat. He reached down and stroked her head, waking her. Vex’s stomach gave a little gurgle. It didn’t sound like she’d just eaten two hens. 

Daven disturbed their sleep again the next morning.

More eggs were gone! he yelled. But the hens are unharmed. That fox is guilty, I'm tellin' ya!

Claeg rubbed the sleep from his face. You see anything this time?

Daven swallowed. N-No.

I see, Claeg nodded, irritably stroking his chin. Well then, how about tomorrow, you tell whoever did see Vex to come.

A proud little smile took over Daven's face. Little chance of tha' seeing as I'm the only one brave 'nough to come anywhere near here. That makes me the emi – emissary. E'eryone else stays on our side of the tree 'less they need water.

What a shame. Guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow then.

Tha's right, Daven nodded proudly. Claeg just stared back silently. I guess…you have a nice day, then, Daven bid, but then remembered his gripe and left with a warning. That man was a pawn if any had ever seen one. This conversation occurred a few times more, always with the same result.

Claeg was finally able to rise peacefully one morning, undisturbed by Daven’s accusations. Routine led him to his fishing spot, and hunger called Vex to follow. Though they hadn't known each more than a month, Claeg believed Vex’s growth uncanny. The fox was closer to the size of a small hound. He'd be the first to admit that this gave him pause once the accusations started coming in, but until he saw blood or a feather, he'd hold to Vex’s innocence.

The day proceeded as normal, and as fish were caught, rations were delivered. Claeg had regained considerable awareness of the world around him, not that it was all that impressive. Rahulik was not a busy place. Not five people crossed his path in a day. In a city, he would be as blind as everyone else.

Grass rustled, breaking his thoughts. Claeg turned, expecting Elethia, but he was wrong. Four villagers, including Daven, stood waiting. Each held a farm-tool for a weapon. Instinctively, Claeg snatched up Vex, shielding her with his arm. Vex stared at him, confused, but made no attempt to escape. No one moved.

Are you going to speak first, or should I? Claeg called.

You can tell why we’re here. Let’s have done with it, Daven almost pleaded.

That fox a yours been nothin’ but trouble, another interjected.

A lump formed in Claeg’s throat. Ian.

Claeg.

You're part of this too?

It's my hens that've been attacked.

If it’s your hens then I suppose you’re the one who actually saw my friend here doing the deed.

Ian paused. No.

Then who? Claeg demanded.

Would've been Trevelyan, then? Ian confirmed with the others. Yes, Trevelyan.

Then go get Trevelyan, and I’ll talk to him. Until then, Vex stays with me.

Sorry, Claeg, Ian said, stepping forward. But letting that beast live is a risk to our livelihood. Has to be put down before the cold comes.

The small band began to advance. Claeg circled to their side so that he wouldn’t be caught between them and the lake. Claeg eyed his knife in the basket. Luckily, none of the villagers seemed to want to take the chance that they would injure him by mistake. He supposed he could jump into the lake, but he wasn’t in the mood for a swim, nor was it a permanent solution. Claeg reached for his waist where a sword would have been. He stopped himself, hand caught off-guard by its absence. Claeg paused at the instinct, but now wasn’t the time for reflection.

Claeg fell back onto his rear to avoid a pitchfork as one of the band thrust it at Vex. Any ideation left his mind at that point, so he ignored the signals his body sent him, and he ran. Blood mixed with adrenaline. Sweat rose onto his skin in response to the pain his body was rejecting. He ran swiftly as he could, which wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep his pursuers at bay. He didn’t want to bring trouble to Altha’s or Elethia’s doors, and he wasn’t familiar enough with the forest to risk it as a hiding place. Claeg's throat felt torn as his breaths got more forced. He could only think of one option. Claeg ran until he collapsed against the bark of The Great Tree.

Pain seared, blurring Claeg's vision. He had to let Vex go to use both arms for support. When he coughed, drops of blood stained the grass at his feet.

The mob jolted to a stop, none too happy with his choice of destination, but did not approach him any further.

How dare you! one fumed. Coming to this sacred place.

Ian just frowned, stepping forward undeterred.

Daven jerked him back by the shoulder. Show some respect. Soon most of the people in the village had formed a mob around Claeg.

Respect? Ian said. He isn't one of us. Yet he comes here? He knew it was precious to us. He's abusing that.

So what? Doesn' change anythin' now.

The Tree's sanctuary shouldn’t apply to him.

Daven leaned in threateningly close to Ian's face. But it do.

Ian leaned in, closing the gap between their foreheads. Look who grew a backbone. Well, guess what? No one here cares a whit what a half-whit like you thinks! I say we keep the Tree safe and remove this bast–

Idiots!

Claeg uttered a painful laugh. The crowd opened to let Altha through. She looked down at him as if to say I told you this would happen. Then, with a groan, she turned.

All of this because we think a fox got into the henhouse? She scolded. Claeg was too tired to rebut.

We don’t think, Altha, we know, said Daven, stepping out front.

Daven, what have I always told you? Altha tutted.

Not to listen to everything everyone tells me. To…see things for myself, he repeated, fiddling with his fingers like a guilty child.

And did you see this fox break into the henhouse yourself?

No ma’am.

Then shut up. Who did see the fox? she called in a raised voice.

The crowd cried out in unison, Trevelyan!

A lean man slinked forward, answering the call. It’s true. I saw the mutt stealing away. The words fell out of his mouth calmly, accompanied by a smile nearly dripping with venom. Altha wasn’t surprised. Trevelyan jeered, Come now, not even a word for your own son, Altha? The sickly-sweet pitch of his voice turned Claeg's stomach.

Son? Altha chortled, face turning dark. Should've never taken you in. You were never going to amount to anything decent.

But you did see fit to replace me, hm? He gestured at Claeg.

I helped a dying man.

And now that dying man has brought a predator into our midst, he played to the crowd.

You could say the same of me, but we didn’t put you down. A round of snickers danced through the crowd. Trevelyan lost his temper.

Enough jokes! Like it or not, the situation is plain. The fox needs to go.

Altha turned to Claeg. Unless you have any suggestions, I’m inclined to agree.

Even Altha had turned against him? What did they expect him to do, prove beyond a doubt it wasn’t Vex? To do that, he'd have to prove it was some other animal’s fault.

Claeg staggered as he stood up and spoke. If someone will volunteer, they and I can stand watch tonight to see who our little thief is. He rolled his eyes as they passed their murmurs around. 

What if you see the fox? Someone called out.

Claeg paused. Then I’ll do the deed myself…Any takers? All fell quiet. No one stepped forward.

I think it should be Daven, Altha suggested. The crowd stirred.

Me? Why? came the indignant cry.

Because if you see something for yourself, I daresay no one in this village could doubt you, the laughs of the villagers confirmed her belief.

All right, but if he tries anything funny, I can’t promise he won’t be your patient a while longer.

After his little run, Altha frowned down at Claeg, he will be. Everyone began their separate ways, but there was one final issue to be addressed.

And what of the fox? Where will it stay? She won’t try anything if you’re standing there with him! cried Trevelyan, quite proud of himself.

A voice called from the back, Vex can stay with me. Elethia made her way forward.

It was decided, and at least for now, Trevelyan slithered away. Claeg gratefully transferred Vex into Elethia’s care. She promised to watch over her closely, but Claeg shook his head. He wanted this to end. He had no intention of hurting Vex. If it was her, he would take her far enough away that she would understand not to come back and release her. Elethia agreed.

Claeg turned to Daven. So…

So. Daven echoed, nodding nervously. What now?

Meet back at the henhouse at sunset?

That's, uh, what I was goin' to suggest too. S-See you then.

You two done? Altha chided, beckoning Claeg to her side. She walked him back to the hut so she could examine him. There was damage, but his wounds hadn’t reopened. The exertion would add a week to his recovery at the least.

When the shadow of the Great Tree fell on Altha’s roof, Claeg began his way back to the henhouse, aided by a staff. He'd have to hobble for a day or so until the soreness left. Daven was waiting for him at the tree, and they walked together to the sight of misconduct. Claeg lowered himself to the ground on one side, and Daven appointed himself to guard the other. They waited like this until the moon relieved the sun of its post.

Claeg had never been in eyeshot of the tree at night. Here and now, he witnessed what had made those who settled Rahulik call that place sacred. When the white light of the moon rustled its way between the bristles of the great tree, the creatures that made it their home stirred. Small souls, glowing like the reflection of the moon on water, scattered through the limbs. There must have been millions, chaotically weaving to and fro, sewing silver threads to adorn the old being like cords of honor. The tree danced, swaying in the wind to display its new raiment. Staying up the entire night would no longer be a problem, Claeg thought. Daven crossed over to him wordlessly, intent on disturbing the calm.

You look like you never seen tha' before, Daven half-asked. A quaint smile curled his lips.

I haven’t, Claeg admitted. And I'd like to enjoy it quietly.

Don’t have 'em where you’re from? Daven plopped down beside him.

Claeg winced. No. I think…this is the only place that does.

How’s that?

Have you ever been outside Rahulik?

Daven became flustered. No, no, no. Not me. Don’t see what that has to do with it anyway.

I think it has to do with the tree.

All the other old trees have 'em, don’t they?

There are no other trees like this, Daven. Dawn came early as Daven realized what Claeg meant.

You mean all the others are dead? Claeg nodded. And this is the only place in the world a person can see this?

I think so. Daven's face sank, then hardened. Then I’m never leaving. Both waited before resuming their conversation.

Claeg spoke first, What do you call them anyway?

Nothing. Don't know what they are. Not like an’body ever climbs that thing.

Claeg couldn't stop from chuckling, then, out of nowhere, both broke into an unexpected laughter. Here were two men, a stranger and a local, who knew absolutely nothing about the phenomenon occurring a few steps away.

The tentative comrades snapped to attention. A noise came from the henhouse. Daven looked at Claeg as if to apologize in advance, then threw open the door. Claeg readied his staff to deal with Daven if need be, but Daven beat him to it, throwing himself back with a yelp. In the corner, ready to attack, was a speartail, a deadly snake, fangs dripping with venom that would kill a full grown man only slightly slower than the poison dripping from the singer on its tail. The hens were in a frenzy. The snake had obviously already stashed some eggs in its stomach, so it wasn’t nimble, but it was eager to leave.

Claeg told Daven to run and bring a sack. Daven did it quickly. They moved back to the sides of the door quietly, tempting the snake to leave, and when it did, Claeg caught it in the sack and tied it shut. They dropped the sack a bit away just in case the stinger poked through the bag. The only choice left was to wake everyone or to fill them in when morning came. Daven wanted to get some sleep, so Claeg agreed to keep watch nearer the tree. Daven slept against the door of the henhouse just in case the rest of the pack came. Claeg could not bring himself to tell him that snakes hunt alone. Picking the sack up with his staff, Claeg dropped it a fair bit off from his feet as he sat beneath the tree again. For the rest of the night, he just looked toward the sky. It was as though the stars had fallen closer.

Claeg waited like this until the drops of light retired, soaking back into the orange glow of the tree that came with sunrise. Soon Daven rejoined him, followed by the rest of the village. Elethia proudly walked to Claeg’s side with Vex close behind. Vex darted to Claeg, hopping into his arms. He held her close. Altha took her place at one end of the crowd, opposed by Trevelyan at the other. Everyone waited for Vex to be brought forward. Claeg took a deep breath, but before he could step forward, Daven jumped to the center.

I think everyone should know that we caught the beast red-handed last night. Whispers of validation raced like ripples through the crowd. I ain't done yet! Daven demanded their attention. What I wanted to say is that we all owe Claeg an apology. We caught a beast, but it wasn’t Claeg's fox. It was a speartail.

Pride and shame are two sides of the same coin, and the villagers were in shock to learn that they had lost this toss. Claeg held out the sack on the end of his staff, and Daven was put to the test. Had he seen it himself? Had he ever dozed off? What happened after the snake was caught?

Oi! Daven halted them, throwing his hands up in the air. If you all don' believe me, then you can keep watch from now on, but far as I'm concerned, Vex is innocent and you all needed to stop bothering Claeg so he can heal proper.

Claeg had to admit himself touched by the demonstration. In the head, Daven was an unground knife, not the sharpest, but he'd been made with good metal nonetheless.

That sack could be empty, Ian said.

Claeg tossed the sack on the ground at Ian's feet. Ian stooped to untie the knot keeping it shut. The speartail filed out. Ian nearly fell to the ground and backed away. The snake began to slowly slither through the dirt. It coiled and hissed at Claeg, baring its fangs and aiming its tail. Claeg took a quick step forward. The speartail shrunk back and started to flee.

Most expected the snake to dart toward the woods, but it turned, slithering towards the crowd. Villagers backed away when it came near, but it was not behaving in a hostile manner. It acted lost. Finally, it chose a spot to deposit the stolen eggs. Right at its master's feet. Then it coiled itself around Trevelyan's ankle.

S-Selma. Trevelyan's voice quivered angrily. He started tensing his sweating hands.

Trevelyan, Daven said, forcing his gaze toward the ground, chewing violently on his thumbnail, you lied to me?

Daven, I– A rock smashed into the side of Trevelyan's face, knocking him into the dirt. W-Wait! Blood streamed from his mouth. He curled into a ball, arms shielding his ankle as he tried to crawl away. His cries fell on deaf ears. A new coin had been tossed into the pot. The coin of calm and rage, and the pot was boiling over.

The faces of the people of Rahulik were red as they chased after Trevelyan. Stones pelted and tore his skin. Even Claeg winced at the sound of rock on bone.

Banish him! Ian yelled, louder than any other. Just for a second, Claeg thought he saw Ian check to see if he was watching.

Altha, Altha! Trevelyan shrieked like a child as he called out for help. Altha turned her face away. Elethia raised her own stone above her head, gripping it tight until it dug into her hand, but dropped her arm. Only four threw no stones: Altha, Elethia, Claeg, and Daven, who couldn’t bring himself to pick one up. Now more than ever, Claeg pulled Vex close to his chest.

The crowd drove Trevelyan away. Ian spat on the ground. Never set foot in Rahulik again! 

Trevelyan stood at the edge of the treeline. The masses panted, each breath rough like a pack of animals just finishing a hunt. One of Trevelyan's arms swung, broken, at his side. Holding up his good hand, he brandished the eggs. His eyes bore into Claeg's, and with a hurl, he smashed the eggs on the ground before darting into the trees.

The crowd screamed and snarled and cursed and laughed. Mostly, they were just angry at themselves for being fooled. Altha wasn't angry at all, eyes drooping toward the ground. Contrary to all the others, Elethia and the old woman hunched with heavy shoulders, like a shadow kept moving further between them and the sun.

When the affair was set and done, the people did apologize to Claeg. That didn’t mean he was one of them, of course, but they knew they had wronged him. Claeg and Vex were able to fish peacefully again, and that was enough.

2

Other Lands

The forest provided a natural barrier for Rahulik. Altha said it kept away bandits who believed that spirits lurked between the trees, but the only true danger was from the snakes. More educated travelers, however, weren't subject to this fear of spirits, and every now and then, visitors chanced to come. This was the main source of news Rahulik received from the outside world. During harder years, these travelers also served as a lifeline, many of them merchants who could bring water during droughts or food when famine claimed their seed.

One such guest was closest to being what Altha might call a friend. He was a well-traveled trader and one of the few merchants that returned to Rahulik after their first visit. The hospitality was thought lacking, as the rumors go. Moreover, the needs of the people were not often worth the trip, but he still returned. He normally came twice a year. Once just before spring, and again before autumn. Altha had begun to watch out for him when the weather turned cold.

The cold winds also marked a month since Claeg's arrival. In that month, part of his strength had found its way back into his body. He spent many days in preparation for the fires that they would need by chopping wood, and other days with Elethia collecting more. He asked her about this merchant Altha was expecting.

Elethia shrugged. He's an intelligent man, for better or worse. Always brings interesting wares. But you need to be careful around him.

Oh? Claeg grinned. Why's that?

He's very sensitive about his clothes.

Claeg was looking forward to the visit. If nothing else, the possibility of his arrival brought Elethia to Altha’s fire at night. The mother and daughter shared few words, but it made the meals less lonely, since Vex was growing scarcer by the day.

Amidst the tenuous peace, a feeling of restlessness stirred within Claeg. As much as he tried to avoid impeding thoughts, the absence of any sense of self weighed heavily on his mind, and if he didn't at least search, he was scared that he might become placid. Serenity was hard-coming, but Altha’s fire helped to thaw the fears that numbed him.

After days of waiting, the merchant at last arrived under cover of night, from the one small path to the northeast. His appearance struck Claeg. The man was markedly dark of skin, and he wrapped himself in robes that arrested the colors of the late-day sky. Around his head, he wore a jade cloth held tight with a golden eagle pin.

He had a bright smile, and spoke in a deep voice as he called, Altha! The merchant held his arms out wide, and to Claeg’s astonishment, the medicine woman answered the greeting with an embrace.

Welcome back, Rashidi.

It is nice to return to Rahulik. I can lay my eyes on so many beautiful sights, he bowed towards Elethia. Elethia bowed back with a coy smile. But who is this? Another traveler or a patient?

Claeg bowed from his seat on a log. I suppose I'm both. I've been in Altha’s care about a month.

Only grave injuries call for that amount of healing, Rashidi mused. Claeg lifted his tunic, revealing the three scars, left by a sword. Rashidi nodded. But, my friend, you lived. Tell me, how was this done to you?

He doesn’t know, Altha interjected sarcastically. He has no memories, not even his own name. We call him Claeg.

Rashidi hung his head. A poor fate, but perhaps your memories will return. Things like this can be lost, but not destroyed.

Rashidi stayed with them for the next few days. He sold Altha a new pipe, which, surprisingly, she had gotten for Claeg. She also bought the majority of Rashidi's tobacco, and sold him some pungent smoking herb she reserved for special remedies. For Elethia, Rashidi offered a selection of dresses from the capital. She bought new tools and a knife instead.

And what about for you? Rashidi stroked his beard. What among my wares interests Claeg?

Claeg held up a hand sheepishly. I'll have to decline. No money.

Rashidi smiled, white teeth shining in stark contrast to his face in the night. Money, he echoed. He went to his cart, pulling out a bag woven of glistening orange silk. Setting it down, he spread it out between them, revealing baubles and oddities, weapons and raiment. Rashidi presented them proudly. Money is important, yes, but it is not everything. The world is full of odd treasures and I will never be able to find them all on my own. However, for those who may show that which is still yet peculiar to me, I may be willing to let go of a few possessions.

I… Claeg stammered, thinking about what he might be able to offer. When it came to him, he whistled, and Vex answered his call.

Rashidi was pleasantly caught off-guard by the creature. He had seen a nine-tailed fox before, but only a pup. A fine partner. They'll be even finer when full-grown.

Full-grown? Altha said. It's a fox. Won't get much bigger than it is now.

I wouldn't be so sure. Beasts of such rarity often are so for a reason. Maybe because of human greed leading to their extinction, like the great elks of the north, or perhaps because of more natural fears… Rashidi reached out to pet her. Vex watched his hand, sitting straighter the closer it got. Rashidi wisely retracted his hand. A partner with an attitude that may require you to protect her, he laughed. Claeg offered back a flat smile. On that account, these may be useful. He presented Claeg with a set of leather spaulders. They came from Dracul, meant for military service. They should serve you well when you leave Rahulik.

Thank you, Claeg nodded, setting the gift aside, intent on learning more about his travels, but Altha had a question of her own.

Can you think of nothing else in your possession? An object of worth? She asked Claeg.

Altha disappeared into the hut. Claeg could hear the rustle of wicker, as she pulled the sword from the basket it was hidden in. Altha slowly stepped into the firelight again, clutching the sword to her chest. If Claeg guessed, he would have said she was bringing it out more for her own interest than his.

Rashidi’s eyes wandered over and around as he unwrapped it, examining it with the air of someone who actually knew what to look for. He pulled the sword out with delicacy, setting the sheath aside to focus on the blade. It was like a mirror. From where Claeg sat, a reflection of fire spouted from the hilt and danced up the length of the blade.

Wait, Rashidi instructed, as he pulled something from his wagon. He returned with a pouch, pouring a fine, blue powder into his palm. Come close, the merchant beckoned. Rashidi cupped his hands. Claeg stepped closer. Whatever the powder was, it was glowing. Rashidi sprinkled it on the sword. A faint light began to burn, and a hum whispered in the air. Rashidi added more powder. The light grew stronger. The hum rose to a ringing. On the sword, some kind of lettering formed but faded away when Rashidi blew it into the wind. Rashidi sheathed, wrapped, and returned the sword to Claeg.

This weapon has been touched by magic, the nomad explained.

Claeg was confused. Magic?

Rashidi continued, "As we know, swords of this quality are normally marked with the signs of the noble houses that the wielders serve. However, these marks serve not only as signs of honor but badges of authority. On occasion, magic can be used to