The sound of the horse’s hooves thundering across the turf of the fields that we gallop through, populated by sparse trees in the valley, growing more frequent the further we get from Pinesdale’s environs. Now and again, the horses' hooves land on fallen twigs, branches, pinecones, gravel and fallen branches, all making cracking and snapping noises. The horse’s manes stream valiantly in the cool morning hours. In the distance to our left, the sun starts peeking over the tall mountains.

Meanwhile, my body starts making some demands that I find very hard to ignore.

Reaching up to my eyes with a free hand, I rub my eyes as I’m jostled up and down in an unnatural jerky, bouncing kind of a way. 

Vayne rides ahead, not looking as though he misses his saddle. What I remember of bareback riding compared with what I feel now is that it was rougher. The man doesn’t look like the absence of the extra absorbance qualities of a saddle much affects him, no matter the terrain we traverse. Whether the hooves sink into the soft and loose ground that grass grows in and moments later, barren stone-covered patches of the old road winds gradually upwards as we climb out of the valley and up a narrow path that leads generally to the southwest.

As we go, I look around and as I do, the fear that has been eating at my heart, worming ever-deeper, lessens as the sunlight around us strengthens, illuminating the world around us, the beauty of this world takes my breath away and things heat up a bit. The trees are lush green and the sky a beautiful, dazzling blue, without a single cloud in sight. The air, far crisper and cleaner, more sweet than I’ve ever had the pleasure to taste.

The heat of the sun beats down on my streaming blonde hair and shoulders, warming me to my core. The smell of horse sweat rises up. It’s a musty odor that I’m not used to, but paired with the air rushing through my hair as the cold of the night gives way to a spring-like temperate weather and the ever-present smell of grass with the faint scent of the sparse flowers we pass in fields mixed in, decorating the hills and mountains like jewelry. Assorted species of the trees, mostly pine-like trees the higher we climb. Rarely, a few are adorned with blossoms that would fit perfectly back home during April. To sum it up, from the bottom of my heart, it all feels like adventure. An adventure that I always wished that I’d someday be able to dream of. Only the smell of spoiling goblin heads drifting up to assault my nostrils breaks my reverie.

Will I remember the better times I have in this possibly strange, linear dream? Or will I forget it all on waking? I wouldn’t mind forgetting all the death, blood, gore and pain. 

Remembering the latter aspects of my adventure, my bones and muscles twinge and ache, my weariness causing my head to go fuzzy again. I wonder if the horse will be able to follow Vayne without my lead. Smacking my face a few times to try to shake the stupor robbing me of awareness, the rhythmic hoofbeats, sometimes clashing with various noises as the terrain changes, put me to sleep. 

Light fills my head and I find myself racing along a tunnel.

The smell of blood and smoke filling the air as I run makes my lungs burn more than usual while my feet launch me forward faster than I could ever dream of. A plain with long grass dancing in the wind fills the land, swaying in the furor, fueled by the inferno roaring behind. Grass stretches ahead, broken only by a glistening river full of pure and clean water, flowing to the north. Scattered clumps of trees make oases in a sea of grass and across the river fronting the hills that guard majestic peaks.

The sun bakes sweet scents from the green-wreathed fields in an attempt to ward off the smell of death that chases me. Turning my head to look over my shoulder with despair, with surprise I see that a growing crowd of others are trailing me. Everyone fleeing the raining fire scourging what once was our village. 

This place is now tainted by a dark power, laying waste to everything in its path. We all knew that it had to happen someday, but we didn’t know how…

 Ultimately, not even our proud village at the edge of the cursed lands, a peaceful place made with our own hands and that of our ancestors, made from stone and grass, could escape the world’s fate. We always thought that living just in sight of the Alverazores, a place of sanctuary and healing, Alvera would look upon us and bless us as her own. We built this place with the spirit of wanting to make a perfect place for us all. Too certain that everything would last, even once the kingdom fell. 

But we were mistaken.

It’s all gone now. So many doomed. The luckiest ones are dead and mercifully gone from this world. Please save us, Goddess Alvera! 

… I pray to you!

Please spare my people, good Goddess.

…

If we can’t have that, I pray at least for one simple thing. Please see to it that the dead we leave behind today, knowing that without your divine intervention, they’ll surely join the Demon Baron’s forces. 

I wish that someday our people can rest in peace. I pray for everyone’s safety.

Our home, Mulga, is damned. 

…

… Damn it all! Why did they follow me? Get away from me, everyone! You’ll all die with me.

“Oh, Delara… what are we going to do?” Little Kharin tugs at my blouse with a pleading expression while all the rest of those who followed me watch with forlorn, angry, frustrated, and pleading expressions, some muttering scraps of conversation between them.

“I don’t know…” I answer haltingly, my eyes lowering to the turf below and my eyes mist. “Just because I’m… I…”

“You’re our leader, Delara! Please! Take your rightful position.”

….

……

“There’s nothing I can do for everyone.” I say simply. “I’m too young and inexperienced to…”

“You aren’t!” Kharin insists with tear-filled eyes. “Please, Delara. Your father taught you everything that he…”

I stare mutely at my friend and everyone sadly, seized by indecision. 

“Maybe it’s enough that we’ve survived, but we need guidance,” Kharin says softly.

“....” Taking a deep breath, I sigh, yelling out the obvious. “Kharin, everyone… we need to figure out how to get by as well as we can without homes. Maybe we can find a new place here and rebuild, but…”

“With what?” Jayne, my pink-crested friend asks with a frown. “We have very little.”

I nod and sigh, crossing my arms, fidgeting. “Um… There’s a village near here, I think… if…” I chew my lip. “If we approach them and beg for help, maybe they’ll…”

“No, Delara!” Red-maned Santara roars and he uses his broad shoulders to push his way into the crowd around me. “Don’t trust them! The people of Alver have never been kind to us, why do you think would have changed by now, when we never made contact with them? Why are we even here?”

Taking a deep breath, I look into Santara’s eyes. “Where else were we going, Santara? Further north into the clutches of his forces? Or would you have us run to the west into those goblin-infested areas?”

“Goblins are everywhere, fool.” Santara scowls at me. “What’s beyond the westlands? I don’t know. Do you want to know?”

I shake my head vehemently. “NO! There’s nothing there. King Karisma’s attempts to map them failed. Father told me that should we ever migrate to the west, only death awaits us.”

Santara sneers at me, frowning. “Then why south? Of all of the places that you could have led us? We’re surrounded by enemies, no matter whichever direction!”

“I didn’t lead you. I just feel that the south is the safest place to be. That’s what I feel in my heart.” I clutch my chest, feeling my growing indecision gnawing at my resolve.

“Hmph.” Santara paces angrily and turns to me, shaking a finger furiously at me. “Delara, you give us false hope, following the whimsy of ‘gut’ feelings. Worse than that, you admit that you aren’t trying to lead. So what comes next? Praying to ‘almighty’ Alvera? That won’t get us anywhere. It never HAS.” He snarls at everyone and visibly controls himself with great effort.

“...Her presence is the strongest here, Santara…” I plead, clasping my hands. “I’m sure…”

Santara cuts in with another growl, “Just because we came here to some place that’s supposed to be the most blessed by her, you expect that everything will turn out better? We’re in the same situation we always were in, ever since we were made. Right on the fringe of our own destruction.” He scoffs.

“No, Santara. This was the best place for us to go.” I say, crying. “You k-know it’s true. But I wasn’t leading anyone anywhere and I don’t...”

Santara yells, making what strength I have dissolve like sand between fingers. “You led us up into these mountains, Delara.” He insists with a dark look on his strong face, tossing his red hair in irritation. “The people trust you just like your father, not that you deserve it.” He utters a low growl, gazing at everyone in the crowd. 

He stands next to me, spreading his arms. “Fine and well for now to run, and while there’s enough to eat for many of us, the goblins still hunt us, ever since we entered these peaks. Even though the army of monsters didn’t bother with chasing us up here, it’s only a matter of time before they come in a slavering horde to burn even this ‘holy’ place.” His flinty eyes latch onto me and he grits his teeth before saying, “What was your ultimate plan, Delara? Would you have us run even further south and put ourselves at the mercy of all the villages of our enemies we come across?! Is that it? The life of a beggar and vagabond?”

I shake my head, sobbing, having started midway through his words. “I don’t know… There was nowhere else to go. All I know is that Alvera loves us dearly and… and…. if only we came here, I… we’d find safety.”

There is a long moment of silence while everyone looks back and forth between the fiery Santara and the cringing me.

“...You’re wrong, Delara.” Santara grits his teeth in frustration. “Do you imply that it’s enough that we should eke out a life in obscurity. You propose to rebuild among the lairs of goblins while we’re slowly killed off, devoured or turned into monsters or ashes? Answer me, damn you!” With cat-like reflexes, he lunges like a bear to grab a handful of my blouse in his fist. 

With my feet pulled slightly off the ground and being physically confronted, I can’t help looking away, losing all my words and courage.

“Eeeeee…”

…..

All the people watch as he holds me up, dangling in his grip. His face is mottled by his rage. 

After a moment of satisfaction, he bellows into my face, making me cringe and flail helplessly. I clutch at his arm without any strength.

Santara demands harshly, “Did you think that someday we could make it across the Feylands, where goblins, imps, demons and monsters abound, to the east from here, fight our way through the fucking Templars, make our way into Eschala where more enemies wait to murder us and somehow reach the lands of Yijan without being slaughtered? Bah! The Feylands are already firmly in the Baron’s grip! Long before he appeared it was damned, the first of the curses on our world. So do tell me, Delara! What was the fucking plan? SPEAK!”

With a roar, the blue-mopped Kharin with shoulder-length hair, unable to watch Santara screaming any more in my face. The small guy known for his warm smiles and sweet nature launches himself at the by far larger man. He catapults into the Santara, known for being the strongest among all the villagers, he slams shoulder into the taller man’s gut, causing Santara to stagger backward and release his grip on me.

Unceremoniously, I land heavily into the grass, backside first.

“Eeeeee… Kharin!” I squeal. “No!”

Kharin looks at me for a long moment, placing himself between us, spreading his arms. “Shut up you big bully! What else could we do, you big idiot?! She has a good point!” He looks up at Santara’s face with tears streaming from his eyes. “Where would you have us go? No matter what you suggest, we’ll end up all the sooner and meekly joining the Demon Baron’s forces with you in power among us.”

Santara growls, saying nothing. He glowers at little Kharin.

Feeling as though he scored a point on the larger Santara, Kharin smiles and crossing his arms, he adds, “You’ve talked yourself into a corner, right? Such grand words, but you give us no alternatives. Delara is doing fine leading us. Even if she’s a little bit inexperienced…”

Santara growls and draws a hand back, balling it into a fist quickly, he rockets forward and punches Kharin hard in the face, fiercely enough for his hair to fly around Santara’s wrist for a moment before he flies backward and blood sprays from his nose and his words cut off.

“Shut your mouth, little dumbass.” Santara rubs his fist. “Hmph… Tough little punk, I’ll give you that.” He points a finger at Kharin angrily. “You know all too well, the same as everyone else here, the truth. THAT Delara…” His brows draw down and he glares at me, spitting on me. “She doesn’t want to lead us anywhere. You all just foolishly followed her without considering yourselves where we'd go next!”

Clambering up, I shake my head, wiping off his spit from my cheek, looking at Kharin with worry. 

If only I had my bow…

“What… why?!” Her flowing pink hair streams in the air as Jayne places herself between Santara and the cringing Kharin, her bright-light-blue eyes flashing, the small boy-like man, Kharin, reduced to bitter crying and clutching at his bleeding nose.

“It’s not unusual for things to get so violent between our factions sometimes, but it wasn’t necessary to attack Kharin like that, you hothead,” Jayne says with a fierce expression, threatening reprisal.

“Of course it was.” Santara looks intimidatingly locking eyes with Jayne, adding with a harsh expression, “Kharin’s got guts, but not enough strength to back up his words. That aside, he’s wrong to take the side of such a coward.” With a scowl, he spreads his arms wide and then looks at me with a contemptuous glare. 

“People, after much consideration and having given her due time to demonstrate her leadership qualities, I’ve made a decision. The people need the proper leadership that she can’t nor has the will to provide us. Since Delara has proven herself such a worthless leader, someone has to stand and take the lead.” Santara clenches his fists and states gravely, “I vow that I’ll safely lead us out of this deathtrap that she’s led us into.”

Everyone falls silent, looking at each other with uncertainty, some sad, and others wearing a look as though they’ve rediscovered hope. One by one, all of the people bow their heads to Santara. He stands and watches sternly as more and more bow their heads and some even fall to their knees. 

Kharin seizes a handful of my blouse and he looks into my eyes sadly, blood leaking from his nose. “Y-you have to put a stop to this, Delara. Please tell everyone that you’ll…” 

I look away, tears leaking down my cheeks. I have nothing to give to the people.

“It’s for the best, Kharin. Y-you all need…” Kharin hisses and throws me to the ground with a look of sadness and disgust in his eyes.

I look sadly up at him through moist lashes without struggling back up. 

Santara’s right. I don’t have the strength to lead the people. No matter how I look at it, I was just desperately fleeing to save myself just now. They all followed me, thinking I could save them just like father would…

“The matter of leadership is settled, then.” Santara says with a satisfied expression. “Very well. I’ll take this mantle with honor. From this day forward, you’ll all follow my lead and we’ll survive, by any means.”

Santara raises his fist with a cold expression. “We’ll raid that settlement that Delara mentioned for a start. Why beg for mere scraps when we can take all of what we need to survive? We’ll toughen ourselves up until we’re strong enough to kill the goblins off and then this whole range will belong to us forever. We’ll make it into the sanctuary that Delara hoped for and the people of Alver never could. When we’ve achieved that goal, we’ll chase off all the others that dare to call these mountains their home! If the Demon Baron wants to come up here after us, we’ll show him how well we’ll take the threat of losing two homes. Since Delara saw fit to lead us here, I say we make a stand here, change as a people and if he brings his armies up here after us, we’ll make the Baron pay in blood for each step into these mountains.”

When I come to, the glow of a well-hidden fire greets me. The space I’m in is full of the smell of burning wood paired with the scent of somewhat damp and dank earth, reminiscent of that of a cellar.

Anxiety fills me as I come to a conclusion and I scream, but in a flash, a hand claps over my mouth. “Shut up, you idiot!” A gravel-like voice hisses in my ear. “We’re tryin’ to avoid notice, here. Stop that tryin’ to draw anything nasty that might happen to be in earshot.”

With a sigh of relief, recognizing the voice, realizing that it’s Vayne holding my mouth and not another goblin wanting to roast me. For a moment when I started screaming, I thought I was back in that cave where the goblins were about to eat me, as though my flight through the forest down the mountain never happened.

“I made us a dirty quick and easy dugout and covered it with branches and dead leaves since we couldn’t make it the whole way. That stunt your horse pulled off cost us being able to make it in a single go. She and I need the rest and I doubt my horse will complain either.” 

With a sigh, I nod. He lets go of my mouth and shuffles closer to the fire he built in here. A narrow chimney sucks out most of the smoke. Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I crane my neck to peer out the narrow passageway leading out, seeing that the sun is still up out there. “Are we going to ride again tonight?”

“Nah… villages don’t take kindly to people riding in at night. Like most towns that have walls, not that there are that many left over from the old times, ones with walls like Haldor’s Stand. They close their gates at night and don’t open them for many who come once the sun’s set. There’s always guards posted at the gates and up on the walls, night and day.”

“Are they that anxious?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

“Oh yeah. In a place infested by gobbies and monsters? Hah.” He chuckles.

“Don’t they know you here?” I think about my vision of when he was in an adventurer’s guild… Maybe even the one in the town he’s taking me to.

“Course they do. Hah. Scared shitless of me to be sure.” Vayne smirks.

“Then they’d recognize you and let us in?” I press with a frown and burning eyes.

“... I suppose that they would open up for me night or day, but it’d be annoying to have to convince them. That’s the real reason why we’re here instead. Hmph. Got any money to bribe them to cooperate, girl? Nah, I thought not.” He scowls at me, contemptuously. “But you picked up a few things worth something you might be able to trade for entry.”

I gasp at his insinuation. What? My body? A rusty sword and my armor? Why would they want those… My face turns beet red and I glare at him.

“Don’t worry about that. We wait till’ next morning and you haven’t anything to worry about. Besides, I’m too fond of my money to bribe a guard, just because you don’t have the patience to rest and wait it out. We’re close enough to the town, enough to be relatively safe here, although monsters still wander pretty much anywhere, even up to the walls and sometimes into the pilgrim villages.”

“I see.” I mumble, sighing as I gaze at the small fire. “Thanks for looking after me, Vayne.”

Vayne shrugs, poking at the fire with a stick and a frown.

“... and it isn’t so bad having an experienced adventurer to maybe teach me more things… I mean….”

Vayne pulls the stick he holds from the goals he’s stirring and uses it to lift a lid off a small pot I hadn’t noticed. He uses the stick to stir the contents, releasing a sweet aroma to bat away the smell of smoke and damp earth. 

“Just about ready, I’d say.” Vayne murmurs, eyeing me sideways. “That question you asked me before… One that I didn’t have the opportunity to answer at the time.”

“Huh? Did I?” I blink, uncertain of what he’s referring to.

He turns back to the fire, gazing into it. “Why burn them, you asked me.”

“Burn them?”

“Dead people, idiot.” He rolls his eyes in exasperation.

“...I don’t have a good answer for you.” Vayne mutters. “All I can tell you for sure about it is that Alver’s King commanded that all dead humans should be cremated right away. It’s law and became one before we found out by rumors of why. They turn like your poor Ma, beyond rancid…”

Thinking about Jeraldyne’s fate, I sigh.

“... And they say that his court mages figured out what the problem was almost right away, makes it happen, the nature of our curse, enough to tell us that it’s nothing that anyone can hope to fix.”

“... Really?” I swallow saliva anxiously. “No one can do anything?”

“Nah.” Vayne growls. “Not unless we killed that Demon Baron somehow, maybe. Haha. Thinkin’ we can do that is pure foolhardy. Only a hero could pull that off, but mark my words, heroes don’t exist and never did, no matter whatever the legends say. Being a man of simple magick, I’ll tell you the magisticks of it. Not that it’ll make any difference, your knowing. We burn ‘em because by doin’ so, the soul doesn’t have anything to anchor to anymore like with your Ma and many of your people that weren’t eaten. About as far as we can tell, it seems to keep any new monsters from poppin’ up. That good enough for you, wannabe ‘hero’?” He infuses a great deal in the word ‘hero’ as he soberly ladles a thin-looking stew into a bowl and roughly pushes it into my hands. “Drink it. I don’t keep any fancy utensils to eat with. I hope that doesn’t offend your sensibilities, girl.”

“Why not? They’re small enough and maybe you can carve some from wood?” I ask, taking the bowl with a frown.

“Phaw.” Vayne laughs. “So dainty. Why bother with spoons when you can eat things with your fingers and from a bowl?”

I smile faintly, tipping the bowl up to my lips. The flavor is simple, like the man, but not bad-tasting. Vayne isn’t half bad at cooking, but I wish I had some rice to pour this over. Does this place even know what rice is? 

Looking around, I spot a pile of wood nearby, enough of it stacked by the fire to maybe last the rest of the day and a night, along with some tinder.

I guess he really intends to settle in overnight, then. Such an industrious guy.

With a shrug, I empty my bowl gratefully. The gurgling of my stomach that had started settles and the warmth of the hot food spreads through my body. “Thank you, Vayne.”

Frowning thoughtfully, I grin, getting a great idea. “You called me a wannabe hero, Vayne. Will you help me reach as high as you? Will you teach me how to be a pro just like you so I can work to become a hero?”

Vayne stares at me with a raised eyebrow and barks a small laugh.

Setting the bowl I used in the dirt at my side, I put my hands together and bow down, pressing my forehead to the musty-smelling earth under us, abasing myself to him. “Please teach me the ways of the sword and of magick, teacher.”

“.........”

There’s a long silence and I keep my forehead pressed to the ground. He says nothing in response.

“..........”

“...Um… where’s Daisy?” I ask, realizing the horses aren’t in this dugout with us, although a hole deep enough for them too would be a whole day’s project. “Are the horses going to be safe, master? Monsters or whoever might see them and discover us, right?”

“Nah, it’s fine, kid. I won’t be here long enough for anything to happen.” Vayne says as he sits up on his knees. I look up at him and catch a predatory gleam in his eye.

I straighten… no… I struggle to.

“Hey… no hard feelings girl, but it’s a hard world we have here, isn’t it? I sympathize with your situation, but I’ve done my part here. You’re safe, even have a full belly and are in walking range of Haldor’s Stand. Can’t ask for something more generous than that, can you?”

“What?” I gasp, moistening a suddenly dry mouth with my nervous and somewhat numb tongue. My limbs twitch as I try to push up from my slumped-over position. 

Vayne, ignoring my question, continues to say, “I suggest waiting until the morning before you go into the town, but by the time you wake up, it’ll be dark. Survive just one night out here in this cozy shelter I made for you and you’ll be fine.”

“Ah… b… but…” I mumble, getting sleepy.

“You didn’t even notice that I took your armor and sword from you. You don’t have what it takes to be an adventurer, let alone some kind of a hero.” He sneers. His harsh words drive home the fact that I’m far too naive. He’s right.

Though I don’t have the strength to pat myself to confirm what he said, from the feel of my chest, I know that my armor isn’t strapped onto my body anymore. Mustering as much willpower and determination I can, I weakly fumble at my side, finding my sword gone. 

Swallowing hard, a wave of nausea and dizziness fills my head and stomach as I look sideways up into his eyes, silently pleading.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, kid.” Vayne shrugs. “I wouldn’t poison you. It’s just a nice mix of herbs that’ll put you to sleep again. You’ll feel right as rain in the morning. Chuck some wood on the fire if you have the energy and head on over to the town. It’s not a bad place to settle down, unlike those pilgrim villages. They know a thing or two about self-defense.”

“P… plea…” I mutter, my eyes dizzy and heart hammering.

“And don’t bother tellin’ ‘em anything of what I did.” Vayne adds. “They’re all scared silly of me, as I told you, even the Mayor himself. It won’t achieve a thing even if you got attention and tried to raise a mob. Find a nice comfy job goin’ forward. A girl like you shouldn’t get into any more dangerous situations. Take this experience as a gift from your ‘teacher’.”

Vayne crawls out from the dugout, leaving me by the crackling fire. I stubbornly struggle against the feeling of drowsiness, but my strength slips away from me like sand between fingers and the sounds of the fire cherrilly crackling nearby fades. 

My eyes filling with tears, I lose consciousness, profoundly angry at Vayne but more disappointed in myself.