(Author's notes)
'So what happened then mate?' a delirious Dave had awoken, deciding to atleast humor Frank.
'Well I only found out today because the guy buggered off for more than a month and was too lazy to write a thing.' Frank ranted, still viably frustrated with the storyteller that had told him this story. 'But when he did thank everyone for all the friendly feedback he had received and insisted that not all of the chapters will be depressing chronicles of wild beasts massacring children... well certainly not every chapter anyway.'
'...Really?' Dave inserted, unconvinced.
'Yes, well it may dip in and out... I don't know. I haven't even heard the rest of the story yet, personally I think the guy looks like he can hardly get out of bed, says he'll update the story every 4 weeks but I don't think he even knows the ending himself! Anyway...'
Chapter 2- What We Take, and Leave
He trudged a long and sobering path home, following the guards as the cold mud squelched between his toes. He became so lost in the rhythm of their footsteps that he didn't lift his head, nor speak a word until they were at his homestead.
Upon arriving at the door not a sound was made by either of his escorts, his head remained bowed but he could somehow feel the words stop in their throats. Simple partings such as 'you take care now' and 'stay safe' that before would flow forth like reflex had no place now, the reassurances and 'you'll be alright now's were empty, nobody really believed that it would all be okay in the end. Everyone was scared silent. Finally a strong palm clasped his shoulder and rubbed warmth into him, they knew he could sense that fear in them and more than that; the unbearable guilt they felt in not being able to offer any kind of comfort to him.
With his other arm the guard extended towards the door and gave it a loud, firm knock. They waited and waited, once again the guard reached out but halted as the handle fidgeted. It turned back and forth slowly, reluctantly, as if violently resisting, and in a similar fashion they too began to tremble and shake with building terror.
The door flew open and a pale, thin haired man stood red-eyed and weak kneed in the doorway. The knot of doubt and fear that had balled up in the boy's stomach eased, his family was safe. The relief he felt reflected somewhat in his father who fell to his knees and sobbed.
'Oh thank you Avo! Thank you!' The man prayed and wept as he pulled his son close, incomprehensibly grateful that his son that was one of the children who escaped.
The house was warm but distant, as if it had grown whilst he was gone, and in this much larger version of his home light didn't seem to extend nearly as far as it did previously. Darkness had permeated into every corner, it lined the walls and roof ready to consume him and his kin when they weren't looking. It was in that house that he realised fear had made a sanctuary of his mind.
His father shepherded him in, thanked the guards and closed the door behind them. By a stove, near the fireplace, his mother spooned a plate of food together and placed it on the table at the centre of the room.
The boy merely remained where his father had guided him whereupon he returned to hug and cradle him for the next hour. His two older brothers had died before he was born and his mother had suffered several miscarriages. After many years the emotional burden became too much for his mother, the end result being an extreme distance between the two as if she anticipated heartbreak, like his death was an inevitability and so she was never to let herself become too close. His father by contrast became overly protective and made him feel like he was made out of glass.
He hugged his father back, knowing he had to reassure him that he was okay.
'Right, now go and get something down you, everything'll be alright now.' he said, wiping his tears frantically.
'Dad, I have something to say… Maze has invited me to join the Heroes Guild.'
The tone rang with uncertainty, could he become a Hero like Maze? Every fibre of his being screamed no, if he were to fight the balverines as he did it could only result in his death. But it was the only path that was left to him and no matter his father's protests he wouldn't turn from it, yet it wasn't he who was the first to reply to this news.
'Is that what you want?' asked his mother, her voice floating across from her solitary position at the other end of the room. He could only nod defiantly, expecting one of them to convince him otherwise. But neither did, their son was one of only two survivors and it wasn't there place to deny him. It was, after all, the duty of the inhabitants to protect the village.
In the morning the boy gathered his belongings, he had scarcely left the protection of the town's walls and even then he had only travelled as far as the Temple of Avo. He had never journeyed further than the island, he had seen nothing beyond pine, oak or redwood. But all he had to show for his time was a bagful of hand-me-down linen clothes, some pocket money and a strand of coarse white hair that he rolled between his finger and thumb.
He had barely slept at all, whenever he closed his eyes he felt as if a great hand was gripping his abdomen and so much of the night he spent rubbing the area just below his rib cage. As he contemplated through the night he realised that it wasn't born out of what he saw at the school, nor was it some kind of vengeful restlessness that was impatiently willing him forward. It was a somewhat welcome anxiety, a chance to prove himself.
Placing the hair in the burlap bag he resolved to begin this adventure he found himself embarking on. His room was at the rear of the house, hidden behind a wall rather than a door. As he turned the corner to leave his attention was immediately caught by something resting on the dining table. It was a small unassuming wooden axe, he recognised it as a gift his father had made him, when he was young. His father held a good reputation within the town as a very capable carpenter, a valuable asset to a woodland dwelling people such as theirs. Being drawn to the childhood toy that entertained those early fantasies of balervine slaying he noticed something soft laying beneath it.
A mother's love is not easily repressed and no matter how much one tries to guard themselves, to always expect the worst, nothing can stop the heart from caring. Beneath the toy axe was a scarf. He knew it was left for him by his mother and a melancholic haze seemed to freeze the world around him, he hadn't planned on saying goodbyes to either of his parents, in the wake of yesterday's events it felt too unfair, that so many others were robbed of the chance to say farewell stirred up a great sense of guilt in him.
He stepped out into the bitter morning air and buried his face into the scarf. Everything was still and empty. Feeling as if he was still caught in that same haze that had gripped him before the boy proceeded towards the main gate. It was hard to tell whether it was an atmosphere of tension or grief that held the town in such complete silence, before it became very apparent. Having reached the hill whereupon he could see his school the boy saw clear as day the footprints he had left behind in the mud. His heart began to race, the marks where he had been dragged by his desperate friends were still there!
A women's voice lifted over his shoulder to break his trance, 'Here.'
Spinning to face her he was greeted by half a pie, perhaps even more than half, wrapped in linen, being presented to him.
'I heard that you're leaving today and… I can't imagine what you went through, you poor thing. Please, take it. After all you've been through maybe it'd help, I'm sorry that it's only leftovers, I guess I made a little too much..' her hands stretched the bundled pastry towards him, shakily.
He turned back towards the muddy footprints only to find that they had vanished, almost without a trace. His sleep deprived and excitable mind was clearly getting the better of him. The woman continued to hold out the pie towards him, still shaking. Hurriedly he flew towards the main gate in an all-out sprint willing himself to just leave.
Images and voices rushing through his head and a memory, the day he found the white hair that lay inside his bag, the day they first discovered the hole in the wall, the day he and his friends first snuck out after curfew…
His body abruptly rocked and he was thrown backwards as a displeased voice rung above him 'Watch where you're going, boy! Maybe I shouldn't have bothered with you.' he dizzily looked up to find Maze frowning over him. 'Oh yes and you forgot these.' as his vision readjusted the boy became paralysed with fear, dangling from Maze's hand were the boots he had left at his school's backdoor.
His muscles tightened, anticipating Maze to disapprove of taking him back to the guild, anticipating uproar as he let the townsfolk know it was he and his friends who had led the balverine to it's prey. The saliva in his mouth dried and as his knees began to quake and eyes water the old wizard opened his mouth once again.
'There's no reason to look at me like that, you're fourteen aren't you? Well that's what Scarlet says. You're responsible for your own actions now, I have no intentions of chastising you, or mollycoddling either for that matter.'
The boy looked over at the newly named Scarlet Robe who simply gazed up at the gate. She of course already knew that they had snuck out, none of this came as a surprise to her yet still he was baffled. It was then that he realised; over the course of a single day he had become a man, they were past the point of a simple stern lecture and he knew that was the feeling he had been experiencing deep inside, an aging process that had happened in the blink of an eye.
'Now that all's said and done, are you ready to leave now, Drifter?', it jarred him to hear him call him by that name. It came as jerking remembrance that that was his new name, he nodded in approval. 'Right well then, both of you, take my hand' a strong yet wrinkled palm invited the boy now, known as Drifter, to take it.
Placing his palm on top of the sorcerer's he looked out towards the hole he and his friends used to sneak through so often. It always reminded him of the strange strand of hair he found years ago, the day he was saved by what he could only recall as a bizarre otherworldly white flash.
He felt a weight delicately placed on top of his and Maze's hands, it was the hand of his most recent saviour. The hand that had slew their tormentor, the hand that could have so easily been bitten in doing so and led her to suffer the same fate as the boy Maze had so readily dealt with. Drifter didn't know much about what to expect from the guild or life at all beyond Knothole Glade, he did however know more than anything that having Scarlet there with him gave him strength, hope.
Drifter would never forget her hand on top of his in that moment, as a circle of blue light engulfed them and they began to fade, succumbing to the magic that would deliver them to their new home. In years to come he would often think back to that memory, but despite how clearly he remembered Scarlet, Maze, the power of the guild seal and the family he left behind, the names of his fallen friends and schoolmates faded away. Upon his return family members of the victims would unknowingly remind him from time to time, but the vast number of their names became ostensibly forcibly locked away like a dirty thought.
…
In an instant they found themselves stood in what appeared to be some sort of stony chimney, beneath their feet a pulsing circle baring a distinctive emblem beamed a powerful aquatic light. Maze turned to reveal an opening behind him that led into a large, grand building. His two young companions however were in no fit shape to move, it wasn't the unsettlingly void-like transition that had peeled away their world to reveal this confined and intrusive new one so much as the sensation that had accompanied it that had the pair reeling. Drifter staggered, feeling as if he had been hung upside down, shaken and then squeezed.
Though he was still seeing double he attempted to push on, as both Mazes looked as though their notably short patience was wearing thin. His feet however didn't appear to share his desire as they dazedly guided him face first into part of the brickwork.
Looking up he secretly enjoyed seeing Scarlet similarly struggle as she rested, holding herself up against the wall across from him. 'Well I must say that's a first, perhaps we should bring initiates in through the door next time, Maze. Here let me give you a hand.' before he could even register whether or not he was experiencing concussion Drifter felt a strong tug on his arm that lifted him to his feet.
Before him stood a bald man, similar in age to Maze, yet not nearly as imposing and though his stomach was still turning Drifter felt warmed by a smile that peaked out from behind the man's bushy white moustache. On his forehead was a tattoo of the same seal that marked the floor they found themselves standing on.
Maze addressed the man only briefly before disappearing into the guild, 'I have to speak to Drune, I'll leave these two in your hands.'
'Well then, who wants dinner?'
'..Dinner?' puzzled Scarlet steadying herself to her feet once more.
'Yes, one of the problems that comes with using the Guild Seal, it's not an instantaneous transfer. It takes a while for your essence to return to a materialised form. Come, you can have one the pupils show you around tomorrow, for now we'll get some food in you.'
He turned his back to them and preceded into the building, he seemed a much more apt guide than Maze, his even his gentle footsteps and posture evoked a warm feeling of calmness and sincerity from the pair. Exchanging a reassuring look between them they followed him into a large entrance hall. The walls glowed bronze as mounted torches illuminated the ancient stones and vivaciously red carpets and tapestries, a duel staircase cast a large shadow over the elderly man as he continued on deeper into the guild.
'I am the Guildmaster, I will be in charge of your training, unfortunately there isn't much room for you to stay but hopefully we'll be able to arrange something for the both of you.' he casually explained, his voice progressively being drowned out by a body of noise that echoed ahead of them.
They descended a flight of stairs to discover a mess hall brimming with feasting and revelry overlaid by erratic unintelligible shouts, the air so thick with the smell of alcohol that it almost clung to their clothes. However, something about it all drew them in, that vibrant attractive chaos was like a moving painting.
The Guildmaster stopped and gave a telling look. Scarlet and Drifter delved into the hall. There was quite fortunately one man supervising the ruckus, from behind a long bar top a bald, moustached man- yes another one- realised the two were not from the guild, though this was no great feat as they did appear to stand out like cats in a pond.
They gave him their request for food and sat at the bar, it felt strange to Drifter to eat that way. Somewhere in the back their food was being prepared, somewhere they could not see it. Whenever the hunters had returned the meat was cooked on a spit in the tavern so that all may admire the fruits of their labour and that all may be able to witness the animal that had died so that they may live, it was a relationship with food that was completely unique to their isolated culture of woodsman and hunters.
He looked subtly towards Scarlet who said nothing, he and his friends hadn't been aware that she had lost both of her parents, in fact it went without saying that he was the only one of her classmates to ever find out that truth. She had been so jokey with him back at the school and perhaps if Maze hadn't asked her they'd have never known. His fleeting glance caught her stoically staring ahead of her, lost in concentration. Was she practicing? Contemplating how to hide the evidence of what she, no they, had been though? The mask she had donned before was gone and maybe her thoughts were occupied solely by the idea of replacing it.
A thump rippled through the table and Drifter peered over his shoulder at the boy that had sat next to him. His eyes looked as if he had barely just woken up, his hair was dishevelled and whilst he wasn't drunk he had a loud, exaggerated way of speaking with every word dripping with egotism.
'Oh newbies, you should see the looks on your faces.' His eyes stayed fixed to the surface of the bar as if trying his hardest to evoke some kind of mysterious aura. 'So who are you exactly?' Scarlet inquired, not at all sold by his apparent suave demeanour. 'Oh just a simple man, I'm sure you'll find out in due time.'
'A simple man? Aren't you our age?' Drifter asked, mirroring Scarlets less than impressed expression.
'Don't pay any attention to Ester he's only been here a couple of months himself' a voice called from the other side of the bar.
'I may not have been here long but I have experienced more of the world than some people do in a lifetime.'
'Ester?'
'Yes, they call me… Ester. Y'know it's like jester but shortened thought I'd start a trend by shorting a name from the start not instead of the end. Otherwise it'd be something like Jest or Jes.'
'..Right.' Drifter and Scarlet tried to look away out of being lost for words, yet he didn't seem to want to drop the issue.
'Okay then what's your name then?' He fired pointedly at Drifter.
'My… my name's Drifter.'
'Drifter? Well that's not a much better a name is it?'
'Hey come on that's not fair I didn't even get to pick it.'
'Are you always this winy? You won't last two seconds with that attitude.'
'Oh what and you're some kind of expert?'
'That I am, I'm gonna ace this training and become a hero, marry a Lady and retire to our big fat estate.'
'You do realise that means finding a Lady that would be able to stand you.' Scarlet piped up from over Drifter's shoulder.
'Ha! Don't you worry they'll be lining up, just you wait.'
Drifter then felt a presence behind them; he turned to find the Guildmaster and two hooded associates. 'Well it's nice to see that you're making friends. Ester, as I remember you still have a spare bed in your room don't you?'
'Erm.. yeah I-'
'Then I assume you won't object if I move him in with you then?'
And just like that their training began Drifter moved in with Ester and Scarlet was placed with another bright young prospect in the girls' dorm. That night he rested easy, exhausted from sleep deprivation but more importantly his mind was at peace. In that new world he was able to start again with new friends, a new goal and with time he would find the tools to correct the mistakes he had made in his previous life. Little did the young apprentice know how important the next day would prove in that journey…