Stowaway and Trinkets

The sun was nearing its apex when the Golem put their plan into action.

Wanderer was no fool and had learned from their past mistakes, they knew their body had no penchant for stealth, which is why they did not immediately run out and try to hide in the carriage.

They began by running far ahead of the slow-moving convoy, then swiftly burying themself in the burning sand beside the road, from head to hoof.

The heat they experienced magnified tenfold under the superheated dunes, but there was a promise of cool shade later, and it was a promise that Wanderer was willing to do almost anything for.

Then, with Emio posing as one of the many cacti of the desert beside them, the Vessel waited, an act in which boredom was almost as painful as the heat they endured.

Slowly but surely, Wanderer began to pick up the faint sounds of the caravan approaching, the crush of hooves in sand and wheels rolling over compacted ground.

They waited and waited until the sounds of the caravan reached their climax, then waited just a little more.

When they felt the time was right and they could not wait any longer, the Golem drew themself out of the sand and ran toward the open backed cart as fast as they could.

They had timed their exit well, but not perfectly, the back caravan further than they wished but so far as to make them abort the plan.

Without hesitation, they dashed toward the shade, keeping their vision on the man riding atop the invisible lizard, the only one with a line of sight toward the Vessel.

It was as they sprinted in plain sight that they belatedly realised the inherent foolishness of their plan, how easily it could be foiled by the most simple inspection.

Every moment felt like a hundred as the Vessel closed in on their target, dreading when the rider would inevitably look over their shoulder, spurred on by Wanderers’ cumbersome form.

Yet, maybe because of the heat wearing away at their awareness or sheer dumb luck, the rider never turned, not so much as twitching a muscle in question.

Hope blossomed in the Vessel’s chest as they approached their destination, the safety of the open cart just steps away.

Mere moments before leaping to their shelter, a long, thin tongue appeared out of the air, wrapping around to wipe a large yellow eye, an eye which was fixed directly on the speeding Golem.

Wanderer froze, stumbling in shock, any moment now the invisible beast would notify its master, and their plan would be for naught.

For a long, long moment, the lizard's gaze seemed to rest on the Golem, till, as if it had seen nothing, its tongue moistened its eyeball and it rested its gaze onward once again.

The Vessel didn't hesitate, they knew they were unlikely to get a chance like that again, and so with one final push, they bounded into the moving cart and ducked behind a particularly large pile of boxes.

Instantly, a wave of coolness washed over them, the shaded roof of the carriage doing much to remove the cruelty of the sun.

Though it was still swelteringly hot, the air alone was nothing compared to the radiating sands and blaring sun.

Suddenly, Wanderers found themself able to think, and as a consequence, regret their decisions.

They very clearly realised now another issue with their brilliant scheme, they had no plan to escape.

Yet peculiarly, Wanderer found themself too tired to care.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“I will deal with it when I have to” they told themself.

They slumped against the boxes, making sure they couldn't be seen from the open entrance, before letting out a great deal of tension they had built up.

They stayed still for a moment, sorting out their thoughts and taking in their new environment.

Once they had calmed down from the excitement of their plan, the subconscious pressure of their Spirit orbiting their soul and the faint rustling of Emio, who had wasted no time making themself comfortable in an open box full of fabric, became noticeable to them once again .

After a long moment, Wanderer slowly and silently rose, the soft filtered sunlight passing through the canvas roof of the carriage illuminating their form.

It didn't take long for curiosity to overtake them, the desire to add something else to their old satchel full of dusty coins and rotted books, maybe if they were lucky they would find something to help them read the human language.

Taking one of the small, wooden boxes from the shelf, they opened its lid as silently as they could and peered inside.

Inside this particular vessel was a collection of small, round glass balls, each spotted by minor imperfections in their creation.

The Golem wondered what they were for, they seemed entirely mundane and badly made, what purpose could anyone have for such things?

Feeling them not worth a place in the limited space they had in their satchel, they closed the box as best they could and placed it back in its place.

Continuing on, they crept over to a large jar, full to the brim with a thick, tar-like substance that possessed a deep red hue, its slight transparency causing it to look as if it went on forever, not merely contained in a jar but in reality an infinite pool which grew ever deeper.

Shocked at the unexpected beauty contained in such a simple container, the Golem slowly picked up the basic earthenware, tilting it as they watched the viscous liquid slowly crawl from one side to the other.

Wanderer slowly dipped a hand in the substance, pulling the limb out to find it stuck to their hand like honey, slowly dripping off in big globules.

After watching the slow drip of the thick oil for a moment, they wiped it off their hand as best they could, finding the liquid to have stained their malleable clay skin.

That worried the Golem a little, but their Spirit emphasised that it was likely not permanent and so Wanderer found novelty in their red-stained hand.

They debated, for a time, to cover their whole body in the red tar yet eventually decided against it, the fun alone not worth the effort of getting the sticky substance both on and off, let alone the mess.

Placing the jar back down, the Golem crawled over to the other side of the carriage, closer to where Emio watched on, and began to decide what to inspect next.

Wanderer spent a great deal of time, shuffling through the various trinkets and supplies the cart held.

There were nails and brushes, crude wooden toys with little glass eyes and short, heavy blades similar to the one the masked defender had used back in the caravan tent.

By the time Wanderer had inspected each one and their vision rested upon the small, dark wood box in the corner, the sun had not only risen to its apex but even began its daily flight down toward the south.

The box was a pretty thing, ornately covered in the same copper-like metal they had seen in the cold creating machine.

The wood of the small chest was not the same pale material they had seen in all the other boxes and crates in the transport carriage, instead much darker in tone and heavier in substance.

Peculiarly, a small metal shaft stuck out of it on one side, causing Wanderer to wonder as to its purpose.

They thought back to the cold machine they had seen back on the road, how it too had a lever that needed to be cranked.

“It must do magic”, the Vessel hoped.

A bolt of excitement infected Wanderer, quickly spreading to their Spirit as well, even Emio saundered out of their box, somehow sensing that something was about to happen.

Gingerly, Wanderer undid the small, delicate latch on the box and lifted its lid.

Inside, a figurine of a pale-skinned woman stood proud, its porcelain body so realistic that, for a moment, the Vessel almost mistook it for the real thing.

The billowing blue and purple purple dress that wrapped around its shoulders seemed to be made of the finest fabric the Golem had ever seen, somehow both hanging loosely and hugging the woman's form.

It was truly a thing of beauty.

It instilled such wonder in their mind that they could not fathom that any magic or enchantment could possibly enhance the intricate grace the carving possessed.

They were wrong.

For as soon as Wanderer began to turn the crank on the side of the little brown box, a whole new world opened up in front of them.

The dancer spun in geometric circles, overlapping and interweaving, its billowing dress spinning around it, revealing the dancer's previously hidden slippers.

Tiny, blue runes floated in the air, the same ice magic they had seen in the larger contraption.

The air cooled ever so slightly as a thin layer of ice appeared on the dancer's dress, causing it to glitter and shine in the filtered sunlight.

Wanderers' mind was blank with awe at the scene in front of them.

But then the dancer began to sing.