Richard jolted awake, a sharp gasp escaping his mouth. His eyes refused to focus and the room he was in seemed to spin. Feeling a wave of nausea, he instinctively covered his mouth and closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths trying to hold the bile back in. After a few moments of concentration, he slowly uncovered his mouth and took in a deep breath, sighing in relief. The room finally ceased spinning, but he was still left with a throbbing headache that seemed to attack his temples. Rubbing his head, he tried to begin processing everything that had happened to him. His memory was fractured, and only tiny slivers of recollection were available to him. He was desperately trying to piece together the events that had taken place but there were simply too many missing pieces. He grabbed onto one distinct memory. The horrific image of the compromised core of the Shimmerbolt, hissing out the violent purple gas. He shuddered at the thought, recalling the incredible fear that gripped his heart at that moment. Frustratingly, he was missing context. What happened before that? Where was he coming back from? More importantly, what happened after? That was the last memory he had, with a giant gap until the next big puzzle piece.
The prince looked around, only now taking the time to figure out where he was. He was covered in a rough-looking quilt, faded green with white silhouettes of eagles embroidered over it. While it had seen many a year, it was strangely warmer and more comfortable than his bedding back home in Indirrel, with fabric imported from the far reaches of Selioth. The bed he was on was small and uneven, with broken bedposts being replaced by a haphazard pile of dusty books straining to hold Richard and the bed up. Inspecting the room around him, he noticed that it would have been spacious if it was not filled to the brim with varying knick-knacks that collected in every corner. From ornate spears leaning against the wooden walls, to mysterious orbs glowing in all colours precariously perching on piles of torn and moth-bitten scrolls, Richard glared in bewilderment at the excessive hoarding that he was surrounded in. Where was he? Straining his mind, he attempted to think back to the next big memory after his discovery of the core. The forest! He woke up on the forest floor, with a similar headache to the one he had now. Another thought entered his mind. Did he fall? Richard almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that thought, and almost entirely dismissed it until a nagging feeling brought him back to it. How else would have have made it to the forest floor? Also, which forest was he in? He swung around, looking for a window to look at his surroundings. Nothing. The room he was in seemed to be an attic of some sort, which made more sense as he was surrounded by what he thought was worthless junk.
Richard grabbed the quilt and pulled it off him, revealing his muddied and ripped leggings. "What did I get myself into?" the prince cringed. As he maneuvered himself to sit at the edge of his bed he groaned as a jolt of pain rippled through his body from his shoulder. He looked down at it and noticed that it was wrapped up in layers of fabric and gauze stained in dried blood. The person who did this must be in this house somewhere. Very slowly, Richard stood up, wincing as his entire body protested, urging him to lay back down and rest. No. He had to fill in the gaps. He hobbled across the tiny room and reached out to the rusted but ornate doorknob. He hesitated. He didn't know what dangers existed on the other side. With a deep breath, he twisted and pulled, and the door swung inward. In front of him was a short corridor leading to a hobbled staircase that descended into the rest of the house. "No windows, great." Richard thought to himself, exasperated. Hobbling down the corridor, he noticed that it was lined with framed paintings that were surprisingly well-maintained.
He stopped and turned towards the first painting. It was a portrait of two men painted in the classic Sool style, with quick and wide brushstrokes, almost as if painted in a hurry. Though it wasn't detail-oriented, it was expressionist in nature, the broad strokes reflecting layers of emotion. The shorter man had a wide, toothy smile, with one hand on his hip and the other over the shoulder of a much taller, skinny bespectacled man with a severe expression and both arms crossed. They both stood on a dock overlooking a tranquil sea with several fishing boats anchored to the dock. Richard felt a flutter in his stomach staring at this painting. These two men seemed so close. Regardless of the unwilling expression on the taller man's face, there was a twinkle in his eyes, a twinkle that betrayed love for his companion. They both wore cloaks, black with purple spirals, and plain shirts with traveler's leggings. The shorter man's shirt was ruffled and open down to his chest, while the taller man seemed a lot more put together, with his garments neat and tidy. The colours of this painting were vibrant and splashed onto the canvas with a flurry, melting into each other to form a deeply playful yet emotional piece of art. Something gnawed at Richard. Why did he feel so uncomfortable looking at these two men? Deep inside feelings of envy ate away at him, realizing that although he had everything he could ever want in arms reach, he had never experienced companionship like this.
Eyes averted with deep discomfort, Richard moved on, refusing to look at the other paintings that were mounted along the wall. "No time to reflect, I need to figure out what's going on," Richard muttered to himself, suppressing the rising emotions that stirred within him. As he reached the end of the corridor, he peered down the stairs. Flickering lights cast long shadows against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, offering Richard no respite to what he may find down there. Step by step he limped down, gripping his shoulder. Outside the crackling of flames emanating from the bottom of the stairs, he heard nothing, which to him was concerning. Finally, he reached the bottom step, and entered the living room of the old man. While it was a more spacious room, it retained its almost obsessive messiness as several more trinkets from across Selioth littered the walls and floors of the room. It was noticeably warmer, as the fire blazed on a pile of wood on one side of the room, illuminating the area, a sharp contrast to the oppressively dark outdoors. A man sat cross-legged, hunched over the flames with his cloak tightly wrapped around him as if shivering in front of the toasty heat. Richard recognized the same purple and black pattern from the picture upstairs, though it was decidedly more worn and patchy. The man had the cloak hood over his head, and he appeared to be staring into the flame, his arms crossed and hands tightly gripping his biceps.
"Hello?" Richard hesitantly began.
There was no reply. Richard inched his way toward the figure as silently as he could, gripping the various objects that lined the wall to support him as ripples of pain shot through his body. The man seemed to not notice Richard's poor efforts at being stealthy, his attention stolen by the hypnotic flickering of the fire that danced for the man. Richard looked around absent-mindedly, with an expression that can only be described as a mix of curiosity and disgust as he hurriedly wiped off the dust on his hands from touching objects that had been strewn about for decades.
"You know, you could do with a bit of spring cleaning in here," Richard muttered, ripping stray spider webs off his fingers.
At once, his leg gave away, all of his efforts to get down the stairs draining his energy. To hold himself, he grabbed an object leaning across the wall without looking. Unfortunately, it came crashing down with him, as it was a staff with a curious orb at the head of it that was acting as a support beam for a few books that were hanging off a slanted shelf. As the staff came down with Richard, so did the books and the shelf, creating a cacophony of creaking wood, slammed objects, and the yelp of a wounded royal. As the staff hit the ground, the orb lit up in front of Richard's face, who was now lying spread-eagled on the wooden floor.
"Damn you, foolish boy!" a voice thundered ahead of him. The old man, broken from his trance, swung around, the cloak casting wide shadows across the room. He leapt forward grabbing the staff from the ground and obsessively checking for any cracks or damages. Satisfied that the staff was intact, he placed it back in its original position, to support the books that were now spread across the ground. There was an order to the chaos, Richard observed.
"You nearly killed us there, boy." the old man sharply uttered, staring daggers at Richard, who was still on the ground.
Coughing up some of the dust that Richard inhaled from disturbing the old books, he picked himself up from the ground, slowly and painfully, annoyed that the old man displayed no concern for his well-being.
"Well, if it's so dangerous, why is it just lying around in your cozy living room?"
Richard snapped back, his headache now in full force.
"The books would fall if it wasn't here," the old man replied distractedly, focused on balancing the books against the staff.
Richard stared at him incredulously. "This man is using a dangerous artifact to hold up some books instead of repairing his shelf?" he thought to himself. As he kept looking at the man who was comically adjusting the staff, a flood of memories overwhelmed the young prince.
"YOU! IT WAS YOU WHO SAVED ME!" Richard exclaimed. He recognized the unkempt bushy beard, the flowing cloak, and importantly, the old man's sharp eyes that betrayed years of experience. Something was different, however. Off. As Richard inspected the man's face, he noticed worrying discrepancies. His cheeks were sallow, with his eyes sunken back into his head. Dark circles and deep weathered lines on his face made him look 20 years older than he actually was. This couldn't be the man who took out a whole army of this infernal creatures.
The old man didn't reply. Richard continued, paying no heed. "What's your name, sir? I must formally thank you for saving my life."
"Saluma," the old man replied gruffly. "Formally thank me? This upstart could start by not destroying my house" he continued, muttering under his breath.
Richard, either not hearing Saluma's whispering insults, or choosing to ignore it, continued with an air of dignity, "Well, Saluma, I humbly thank you for protecting me from those creatures. I promise you will be rewarded greatly for your troubles."
"HAH!" The old man guffawed, suddenly and loudly. "Reward me? How? Will you go out there and get me a few voidberries? Or, or, will you go and hunt me a plump horned bear for dinner?" The old man started raucously laughing, hand on his belly.
Startled by the sudden laughter and the incoherent ramblings of the old man (what in the world was a voidberry?), Richard sharply interjected, clearly embarrassed. "Sir, you are talking to the prince of Indirrith, Richard Goldwall! I have access to anything you want!"
Saluma's laughter ended with a contented sigh. "Well, I haven't laughed like that in years, boy, so thank you for that," he paused, staring into Richard's eyes for a moment. "I'm aware you're royalty. I recognize Indirrith fabrics anywhere." As he mentioned this, his eyes seemed to wander into a different land. A soft smile played across his lips, letting go as he was transported to a world long gone.
"Well then, if you know that much, you must know my family!" Richard started, not noticing Saluma's nostalgic reaction to Indirrel.
Saluma, finally done tinkering with the staff and the books, started walking back to the flame, seemingly lost in a dream state. "Tell me boy, what happened to Queen Katherina?"
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Everything about Saluma seemed to throw Richard off. His abrupt laughter, his ramblings, the foreign accent and weird phrasing of certain words. He seemed to be from a different time and place. "Katherina? That is my grandmother," Richard pondered. "She's still alive, but barely hanging on the last I saw her."
"Now she was a good one!" Saluma reminisced, groaning as he sat down on his purple armchair. "A good queen, a visionary leader, and not too bad on the eyes, eh?" Saluma winked at Richard.
Richard revolted, a painfully disgusted look on his face. "That's my grandmother, sir!" Unable to face the old man, the prince huffed and turned away, walking towards the mosaic window that was swung open, inviting any semblance of a breeze into the toasty cottage. As he stared out into the forest, he noticed how in trouble he actually was. Gripping the sill, he concentrated. "My sky-ship is gone. I landed in the forest...and survived. I was attacked by monsters, and then got saved by this crazy old man." What more did he need to know? As he stared at the gargantuan trees that appeared as a wall closing in around him, he noticed sweat forming on his forehead. The longer he stared into the near-pitch darkness, the more his thoughts muddled. He felt more paranoid as if he was losing his grip on reality. The void spun his understanding of how space and time worked. The only thing keeping him afloat was the swinging dots of light from the lanterns that were hung haphazardly in the vicinity. The ground seemed to give away below him, and now he was floating in the darkness, dancing with the void. It was almost peaceful.
"The Dark will get to you, boy," he heard from behind him. Saluma's tone was clear. "Don't stare out there for too long. The Dark will get to you."
"We're in the Night-Forest aren't we?" Richard replied, his voice dropping low.
"Yes. Now turn back towards the flame. Look into the flame, you'll feel better."
It took Richard everything to turn away, the seductive grip of the forest caressing his cheek, urging him to keep looking into its glimmering eyes. He tried to pull away, the throbbing in his head screaming and gnawing within him. Finally, he broke through, and it was as if an unpleasant fog had been lifted from him. His head was still in pain, but his thoughts were clear. The messy cottage was now a welcome sight, and the flames were a respite for his eyes, as they seemed to wash away the inky darkness in his head. Richard limped towards the flame and sat in front of it, hypnotically watching the fire crackle before him.
"The Dark will get to you," Saluma repeated, this time gently, realizing that Richard was just a boy, who couldn't have been a day over 20.
"I...have so many questions" Richard began softly, with none of the royal dignity (some would say arrogance) he had before.
Saluma remained silent, also staring into the flames.
"Why do you look different? I saw your face when you fought those...things. You look older. Much older."
"All-Shimmer. You use it recklessly, like I did, and it will hurt you." Saluma smiled. "I will be back to normal, though. I just need time."
"All-Shimmer? That power was All-Shimmer?" Richard cried out, turning back to face Saluma. "All-Shimmer is a fuel. A resource to power cities and worlds. How are you using it like that?"
"Don't you know your history, boy?" Saluma replied harshly. "Before All-Shimmer was harvested in bulk, it took specialist miners to bring it to the surface, where it was used sparingly by fighters who had to be trained for years to wield it the way I did."
Richard caught the vitriol in Saluma's tone. Did he not approve of how All-Shimmer was being used today?
"The power of All-Shimmer at our fingertips, a dance of balance, the ebb and flow of elemental beauty to be appreciated and respected," he continued. "Not to be crudely harvested and depleted, only to be unceremoniously stuck inside machines that cannot appreciate its subtlety."
"We built an empire on it! An age of technological advancement and utopia!" Richard retorted.
"Utopia? Child, I haven't seen the world in a long while, but one thing I know for sure, utopia doesn't exist." Saluma ended with a sense of finality.
Richard stared back into the flame. Doesn't exist? He's crazy AND cynical, apparently. What did Saluma mean when he said he hadn't seen the world in a long time? "How can you stand the darkness, old man? Why choose to live here?"
"There is a beauty to the darkness, child. Existing in a world where no one can see you, and you can't see them, brings a new breath of freedom to a man like me." Saluma had now shut his eyes, leaning back into his armchair.
"I saw no beauty," Richard replied bitterly, hugging his legs and burying his face between his arms. He felt lost. With large gaps in his memory that were slowly being filled, he was startled by how afraid and small he felt in such a large and foreign land. His friends, his family, they were all continents away! How long till they found him? He hadn't told anyone about his excursion to the Eastern Reaches. His mother had forbidden him to leave the capital, and so in an act of, admittedly, adolescent angst, he snuck out of the castle in the middle of the night, no one any wiser. Well, not no one, Richard thought to himself, a revelation starting to form. Someone had to captain his sky-ship. Someone else was there? Who was it? Where were they? He dug deeper into his mind. Someone, someone, someone! Are they alive? Dead? In the forest with me?
"Damn it all!" Richard suddenly cried out, tears forming in his eyes, his frustration palpable. He was unable to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks, and he hid his head back in his arms, stifled sobs poorly hidden. He felt like the little prince again. All alone in the vast world. Saluma opened his eyes and studied Richard with concern. "He really is just a scared child," Saluma confirmed. Without a word he shuffled onto his feet and stepped into a tiny kitchen, walking back to Richard a few moments later with a rustic mug in his hand. He placed it next to the boy and sat back down on his armchair. Richard lifted his head and glanced at the mug through tear-blotched eyes. A creamy, white steaming liquid with an intoxicatingly sweet scent entered his nostrils and all of his worries melted away for a few precious moments. It was replaced with an unrelenting hunger. The prince couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten. Grabbing the mug with both his hands, he downed the drink in thirsty, desperate gulps. His eyes brightened. Delicious!
"What is this?" Richard exclaimed, making sure he had every last drop.
"The milk from an Ekwart flower" Saluma replied sleepily, his eyes closed.
"Ekwart?" Richard thought to himself. He had been extensively trained in botany and horticulture while growing up, learning about the rarest and most elusive flora and fauna in Selioth, yet he had never heard of these plants that Saluma kept spouting out. He didn't think about it further, however, as his stomach grumbled ominously.
"Uhm...you wouldn't happen to have anything to eat would you?" Richard asked, sheepishly.
***
An hour had now passed, and Richard was slumped back on an old rickety dining chair, patting his stomach in satisfaction. Saluma had pulled out a few local delicacies, all of which were completely foreign to the prince. Roast darkfowl, a lump of chewy meat that was packed with flavour served with some slices of bread, which Saluma referred to as a Night-Forest delicacy, as bread was hard to come by in this region. He also had a couple of gleenfrogs, a large, meaty brown frog that tended to survive in the wetter areas within the forest. Richard had eyed the roasted frogs suspiciously, which were skewered on a long stick, dripping in oil. However, he was in no position to be choosy any longer, a royal privilege now lost.
Now he was in a dreamy haze, his headache not quite as loud, and his wounds not quite as sharp. With his head clear and emotions at bay, he looked up at Saluma, who was cleaning up the dishes in his tight, yet cozy kitchen.
"Saluma?" Richard began.
"Yes?" The old man replied.
"How do I get out of here?"
Saluma dipped a few plates into a stone basin filled with water and turned back to Richard, wiping his hands with a cloth, a morose expression across his face.
"You have two options, boy" Saluma started, resolutely. "You walk through the forest, blindly and with no knowledge of what lies in here and hope that you stumble your way out," he continued, with a mirthless laugh, "Or you stay here. Start a new life. Away from the rabble."
Richard, who had leaned forward, intently listening, was now frozen in shock, his jaw agape. "Those weren't options!" Richard cried, "They're both death sentences!" He pounded the table and stood up in fury, the chair scraping back and toppling over.
"How is living here a death sentence? I love it here!" Saluma muttered under his breath, ignoring the rampage Richard was on. The prince was now slumped over a wooden countertop, repeatedly slamming his fist onto the table with his face buried in his arm.
"Old man! There has to be something!" Richard yelled, his voice breaking as his rage transformed into desperation.
"This place is protected. Hard to get in. Hard to get out." Saluma replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Although..." he trailed off.
"Although? Yes?" Richard rushed to Saluma and grabbed him by the shoulders. He was grasping at any opportunity, no matter how dangerous or far-fetched.
"Around 3 years ago...or was it 5? No, it was definitely 3...was it?" Saluma pondered, stroking his beard.
"OLD MAN!" Richard began violently shaking Saluma, his patience waning.
"No, it was definitely 4! Yes, 4!" Saluma confirmed, with a wide smile. "A trader came by 4 years ago! He was a little funny fella, about half your height, I think." The old man was reminiscing.
"Get on with it!" Richard groaned.
"We had a brief chat, him and I! State of the world and all that. Though I presume neither of us knew anything of date. News travels slow through the forest. Usually, we hear happenings a few years late." Saluma chuckled.
Richard clenched his jaw, knuckles white as he gripped the old man's sturdy shoulders. "I'm going to kill him," he thought to himself. "I need to get home and he's my only ticket, so calm down Richard." He let out a deep sigh, trying to release his anger.
"Anyways, he did mention something about a group of forest engineers out in the Western cliffs trying to build some sky-ships out of Night Wood, the crazy bastards!" Saluma exclaimed.
Richard's ears perked. "Sky-ships?"
"Yes, yes. What a bunch of fools, trying to fly sky-ships out here." Saluma laughed, stepping away from Richard and turning back to the soaked dishes.
"WELL, LET'S GO THEN!" Richard excitedly yelled out.
"Boy, are you out of your mind?" Saluma snapped. " Getting to the Western cliffs will be a journey in itself! It might take months, and that's if we survive! Who knows if those engineers are still alive, and even if they are, how are they going to fly a sky-ship out of here with the Devil's Cough above us?"
"What's the Devil's Cough?" Richard replied, muted by the curt reply.
"The raging wind! Didn't you notice it? When you were up there? When you were..." Saluma trailed off as Richard looked away, with a dejection not be-fitting a young man like him. It reminded him of an old friend, a dear friend. Charles. Saluma shook his head, preventing memories from seeping into his thoughts and whisking him away. With a softer tone, he continued. "It's nigh impossible, boy. How's an old man like me going to help you, anyways?"
"I saw you with the All-Shimmer. You know something. Help me, or teach me so I can make my way there myself!"
Saluma looked into his eyes and saw something there. Behind the walls of hopelessness, there was something. A tiny flame, oh ever so tiny. Determination. If that flame was nurtured, the things the boy could achieve. It reminded Saluma of himself, in his younger years.
"Listen, boy. The furthest I can take you is the trading post a few days’ trek from here. There, you can find a guide to carry you to the Western Cliffs. That's it! That's as far as I go." Saluma sighed, realizing his quiet life had taken a tumble.
"Really? You would take me?" Richard reacted elatedly, tears forming once again. "Thank you, Saluma! I promise you, once I get home I will make sure you drown in riches. You could upgrade this little cottage into a towering castle, I swear it!"
"I'm perfectly okay with my living situation, boy" Saluma replied, with a tinge of irritation in his voice. "Anyways, it's been a good couple of decades since I have had a proper adventure. Might be a good time for a final hurrah!"
"Get some sleep, little prince" Saluma instructed, turning back to his dishes. "We leave first thing tomorrow...not that you'll be able to tell..."
A few moments later, Richard fell into the bed, the soft sheets inviting restful sleep. As his mind wandered the line between reality and dreams, he thought about his mother, the Queen, and what she would say when he got back home. He thought about Malcolm, his older brother, who would berate him for getting lost in the most dangerous part of the world, yet envious that Richard would have an experience he didn't. He thought about Granny Kath and the bedtime stories about the Night Forest she would read to him as a child. Even with all the turmoil back home in Indirrel, he still missed it dearly. He missed the gorgeous skyline, with its golden towers. He missed the warm sun spreading its light over the rolling plains and grassy hills that made Indirrel's landscape. He missed riding his sky-ship over the city and looking down at the populace, soaking in the sights of progress and development. "Utopia," Richard wistfully mused.
"He was wrong. Utopia does exist. "