The night’s rest was dreamless and lackluster. I awoke with a yelp and my eyes bursting open, from which I glanced around my dimly lit home from the same seat I was in with my encounter with him. Sweat caked every crevice on my skin. Thankfully, the dreaded visitor did not show his face in my home again. Very little other comfort presented itself to me to which I could somehow grab onto. No matter how much air I took in, I always felt breathless and fatigued. I was confined to my seat for nearly ten minutes when finally the fatigue subsidized enough to where I could stand up.
The sword on the table frightened me dreadfully as I had placed it on the table before falling asleep. It was anathema to me. An urge to flee and cower, anywhere being sufficient, was deliriously compelling, an almost animalistic sense of logic championed itself. In an instant, I had vacated my chair and was halfway between the table and a wall. Of course, my house was barren so there was no real place to escape. I was hunched over and paralyzed with my eyes never once leaving that rusted sword. The panting returned which made my vision blur but my legs held steady enough for me to regain composure but my lungs remained continually battered. When everything, over the course of minutes, was properly restored and returned back to its rightful place, I broke out into a laugh. Every breath remained back in focus and under strict conscious control. A coughing fit ensued. I struggled to breathe once more but in this manner with air rapidly forsaking me. By reflex, my body returned to the table to lean on and my finger brushed up against the blade of the sword. When everything had come to an end, I felt more exhausted than the day before. I ended up precisely where I had woken up, back onto the seat but very much awake.
More time passed as I sat, just trapped in a pensive mood and completely at its mercy. I could not stop sweating. A distraction, I figured, was in order for any desperate attempt to bring it to an end. The bucket was back to my lips at first with gentle sips but then turned back into tremendous gulps without time to breathe in between. Before the entirety of the bucket was emptied, I took the last bit of water and dumped it on my head. Droplets of water dripped off my hair and clothes but did nothing to cool me off.
It was there, just before the doorway, I stood soaked feeling bewildered and belittled by such a tremendous force. Angst competed in full force against embarrassment which rooted my feet into the ground. Every string of my body was pulled in every conceivable direction. At last, it was all too much. The dread and mortified state I had dragged myself into forced me onto my bed. A cowardly dogma rose from the ashes as I pulled a blanket over me. Those necromancers, not even having seen me or known my existence and aided by myself, threatened to conquer myself. I slipped further to the point that I wished to simply vanish or if that angler were to return and devour my spirit. Perhaps a hole would open itself, right out of the ground, and in my home, that would have been preferable than seeing that ‘man’ again. I could practically see it! In the center, the wood beams of the floor bent downwards and a gaping hole (with no bottom in sight of course!) would be waiting for me. But at my door was ‘him’ and I shuttered, my stomach lurched and I remained bedbound. My God, if it had happened, I would have dove, head-first into it just to escape it all, even if it meant brushing ever so closer to the angler’s presence.
Of course, it did not happen. No one but God was watching. Somewhere, Norvin was going to be waiting for me…
The thought of the huntsman waiting for me, bow in hand and myself not arriving galvanized me. A frenzy once more threw me back onto my feet, my spirits mobilized to affront the task I had taken upon myself. My clothes and hair were damp but no longer completely soaked. The overwhelming feeling of disgraced faded, having been extinguished and a new fire having taken its place which pushed my desires in the opposite direction.
I took the sword and sheath from the table and placed it at my hip. That had felt wonderfully good! Then I threw it back onto the table as quickly as I had donned it, undoing the joy that had so briefly taken me. I began pacing the room in quick circles and giving a speech to myself and all the objects in the room, “It’s so simple! Yes, it is indeed so simple! There is no easier calculation given my personal circumstances that I, yes I! have bestowed upon myself.
“Out there are men, normal men, men of average complexity and standing amongst the annals of history. To which there is no problem!” I cried. A short pause began but I quickly cut it off to continue raving. “But those men do not suffer in the way I do! They suffer, yes and in fact, they suffer more nobly than I. But are they visited by beings like ‘him’? Maybe they are but how should I know? But even though they have nothing but commoner blood while my veins carry the blood of low nobility and perhaps kingly history if one manages to peer in deeply enough, I am a useless wretch! For they act and all I manage is to think. Bah, it’s enough to trust me into sheer madness!”
“But here lies the challenge! The opportunity! The chance! I have a duly circumstance that I must carry out! Although he has provided me with a dubious omen, it’s quite obvious its benefits. Yet, here I am dreading and thinking and acting in accordance with thinking, which is not the act. Acting in accordance with acting is quite obvious to act! It’s obvious nature does nothing to alleviate the burden, in fact, its difficulty ramps up like a steep mountain.
“Obsolescence has nearly overtaken me. I am forgotten and lost to the annals of time and history. No mark has been left by me, for good or for ill. All I get are what shall be and what ought to be and surely, yes surely, that can not be sufficient, not to anybody and surely not to me! Because even in my own mind, I forget about myself, it’s like I am a ghost who can only think and feel and not act. My soul longer is joined to my body and all that I fear is dread and not of could come, even death. Perhaps, I do fear death but I have not felt it and I should feel it! Perhaps I am a ghost and if I had tried earlier, I could have escaped him in the most ghostly of fashions, through the wall or passing through the roof! But that can not be the case! I feel thirst and hunger, don’t I?
“And so right before me are those necromancers! Dealers in death and dark magic which I have seen! There I can conquer my trajectory of being eclipsed with malice with my left and mercy with my right But that requires action! So God help me, let me act! Don’t let me remain only a spirit, long forgotten by others and myself. Damn that angler! Let it be, let the die be cast!”
I became more animated than ever before and everything fell into motion. Every article of clothing was flung off my body, tossed onto the table beside the sword, and replaced with new clothes but I had no boots. The realization almost sent me thinking, but I stopped and continued. The sword was back at my hip, then I flew to that crate with traveling equipment. Then I ceased but carried on. From within I produced a satchel, swung it over my shoulder, and put a filled waterskin inside. I didn’t even care to shut the crate, not daring to pause the momentum, for when every falls into place, one must let it drop without hindrance. I did long for some pipe tobacco, but I had not even thought to satisfy the urge. Instead, some salted pork and bread were shoved into my satchel, the very same ones I had dropped earlier. With that, all my preparations were complete.
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I was sweating all over, and drops were dripping off my nose and fingers. It did not matter, nothing physical that I was feeling mattered, not even starvation. Terror loomed just beyond like it was simply loitering past a corner, waiting for me to pass by. I waited for no observance of the feelings I had. Obscurity in terms of myself to the world and myself to myself were to be confronted, lest unbelievable torment take me.
My hand gave a boisterous shove against the door that was barely hanging onto its hinges. It did not even dare to creek or moan against the force I had placed against it. Then I stepped outside letting the door timidly shut behind me. From there, I made my march toward the gorge from memory to where terror loomed. That being was still fresh in my mind and I shuttered as I relapsed back into memory, then quickly cast it off, feeling more in control than I had ever been before.
The journey to the gorge was remarkably simple, if not plagued by pondering. My abode was left behind me as I forded the two shallow rivers and then crossed the final, most difficult one. I looked at the statute once more, just blinded by its age. Its face stared back at me. After a long moment of just merely staring, I made a vow to return in glory and relevance. It was my revolt against the world, a cry against everything that inhabited it, even against my own self.
As usual, hours were eaten up like hogs to slop. I could not help but jog or at least carry on at a faster pace fearing that Norvin may have given up on me and left. The thought gave me a momentous shiver, my lips convulsed and I was nearly ground to a stop. I had to rest by sitting down next to the path. For nearly fifteen minutes, I lay there in the dirt with my face in my hands. After the break was over, I was on my way with the same pace and momentum I had strived to keep alive, even if it meant that my lungs were lit aflame from running so long.
Nothing took place for the rest of the trip, just more moments of my life occupied by deep thoughts that were trying their hardest to mount a counterattack against me. My mind was set, however, and they were relegated to merely shout and pout, unable to fully break had I had determined to put it in motion. Yet, they were there and made themselves known, which I knew, would be perpetual but by the very least manageable.
The pastures were crossed and I turned into the cluster of trees which made up the forest. It was nearly noon which meant that folks who live more normal lives than mine were to have lunch. My stomach growled viciously but I dared not stop again, even but for a moment. Each second was precious and each minute longer to arrive near the gorge meant that Norvin may up and leave me. Worst yet, he’d call the town guards to the problem and everything would be lost. I broke out into a desperate dash for the remaining hour. All types of branches and leaves cut me, all over my arms and face. Once or twice, I wiped sweat dangerously close to blinding me during the trek and my hands had streaks of pale blood on them.
At last, as I cleared a thick shrub, I saw him! The sight of a huntsman, slightly stooped over and a bottle of brandy in his hand made relief glow from every bone in my body. It was only a few moments later that we exchanged glances. A timid smile first formed on his lips then to a frown and finally confusion.
Sweat dripped off a strand of hair and hit my foot when I got near. My legs were completely destroyed and I almost knelt down beside him but managed to stay upright and cry, “Norvin, oh thank God, you are here! Please tell me, that no one, yes no one knows of this hideout.”
“Indeed, not a soul besides you and I are aware. But my friend, what has happened to you? Look at yourself, now. My God, you are paler than a cloud and dripping more sweat than a farmer in the summer. Take a seat, yes over there, sit right on down. From the look of things, you have run more today than I have my entire life! You seem like you could use a drink, eh?”
I practically fell onto the ground but having my back up against a tree felt wondrous. It was more than deserved, given the pace I had managed to upkeep for almost the entire journey from my home to Norvin. In his hand was the bottle of brandy, only a quarter left again, but I refused it. Instead, I pulled out the waterskin and eagerly gulped down every drop. “I am just weary,” I managed to say in between rapid breaths. “Now, you’ve done what you’ve promised, now, I suppose the main task has befallen me.”
“Now hold on for a moment. You really do mean to go in there? Now?”
I paused for a moment, my eyes peering at his feet. Then I glared up at him. “My soul dies if I don’t. And something… happened to me last night. But enough! That is my issue to contend with, you have more than done your part, and I wish I could thank you more gracefully than I can even manage with words.” The satchel at my side seemed too heavy, so I took it off and handed it to him. “I shall return for this. If I do not return in an hour or two, then I am dead. Stay for as long here as your judgment determines. Then go off and alert the guards of this menace.” Even after a brief respite, I was still nearly out of breath but urged on by no one but myself, I managed to get onto my feet. “The misfortune of his necromancers is a tremendous fortune for myself, I might as well say! Do remember what I said! And once again, thank you!”
Then I was off forward to make the final trek of only a few hundred yards to the entrance. Anticipation in my heart was nearing the highest I had felt in my life. I was almost there. Only the shuffling of my feet kept me bound to the world, if the soles of my feet had gone numb I am sure flight out of the plane of existence would be possible. After an eternity’s march, I arrived at the gorge.
I peered into the gorge, stunned by the sudden cut of the ground. The bottom was nearly a ten-foot drop, perhaps the same way wide near the bottom. Further on the gorge went on, it became more cave-like as the ground formed more of its ceiling, and thickened as it bore deeper and deeper into the ground. Carefully and methodically, I let myself down and hit the bottom. To my left was the slope, which would eventually rise to be level with the ground but the left led deeper inside. My legs led the rest of my body as I descended its gentle slope. Above me, the ground became the roof, and the sky was utterly blocked out. The only light was behind me and through tiny little cracks that just barely managed to stream in a hint of sunlight. A thought occurred that a lantern or torch or perhaps anything would be in order but I decided against it. My eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and I let myself hunch down as the ceiling caved in rapidly. I was crouching and crawling after forty yards.
I traveled for nearly a hundred yards more to the point it was nearly midnight black, and only the tiniest of cracks shined light. Everything was completely cloaked in utter darkness and I felt awfully like a bat. Then, I nearly hit the end when I almost tripped on something. My hand was stretched out when it touched the wall, or more aptly, a door. The end of the tunnel had been found! I felt the entrance shift as my weight had been turned forward. It was a good bit of luck, but I would have searched all over as I saw a necromancer enter the gorge, something lay in there. Yet luck had saved me good time and frustration. Groping around fruitlessly for an entrance that I believed to have existed would have driven me into another realm of madness.
With a gentle shove, the entrance opened, which was a door more akin to stone than a true door. Somehow there were hinges as it swung aside. There was not a sound, not even a glimpse of it. But just beyond was a faint light, but was purple, from a torch or something of the like. The hideout was just beyond me. Not even the thought of the angler stopped me as I stepped beyond the door and inside.