10 Years, Village. Aftermath

I startle up from my light, restless sleep as a loud brush cuts through the night's silence. Following the first, a few more cracks sound through the forest. Involuntary, I release a heavy groan. My body aches, and my hands burn in particular. My throat is dry, and I have a hard time concentrating well. When was the last time I had something to drink? Foremost, a pulsing headache is tormenting me.

The sky is black, covered by clouds. Only the moon barely shines through a small gap in the cloud cover, and vaguely reveals my surroundings. I get up, leaning on a nearby tree for support. I look down – my sleeping spot was a freshly dug and covered mound of dirt. The surrounding stench finally reaches my nose again, and reminds me of what happened.

“You remember all too well, do yo-”

A voice that grew familiar in the course of the last day speaks up, but I do not want to hear it. There is a more pressing matter at hand, regardless of what insult it was going to hurl at me.

Oddly enough, I feel unusually serene. Maybe not serene, rather... cold. If not for the pain, I wonder whether or nor I would feel my body. The picture of me laying the head of my father into the mass grave flashes before my inner eye, but it evokes no feelings. Is this normal?

Only now, I notice that I am trembling all over the body. Am I cold? I do not feel particularly cold, even though I am standing in the snow bare foot. It must have snowed while I slept, the paths that I traced into the snow are gone.

I take a step, and another. Slowly at first, but shortly after in a normal pace, I walk towards home. I did everything I could here, so what else would there be to do?

“End yourself?”

Does Mother already know of this? Was everyone of this search party caught? Did anyone escape? I need to find her, look for her.

The forest is dark, but being this close to the village, finding the way is a triviality. After a few minutes, I step out of it's boundaries, right next to our shack. I approach it, and without slowing down the slightest, I push the wooden carved doorknob and enter the room. It is even darker inside, but there is no doubt nobody is in here right now. To be absolutely certain, I go to the spot where my mother normally sleeps anyway. It is empty.

On the table, there is are three bowls of soup, emitting a foul odour. On closer exception, fine mould swims on top of it. It contains, to my surprise, small chunks of meat, and vegetables of the kind you would find on a market, and not in the forest. A shame its already spoiled, thinking of my protesting stomach. A jug full of water stands in the middle of the table. I pour some of it in a mug near the bowl that is closest to me, and some over my face.

The water over my face does not very much to refresh me, but the water I drink runs down my throat like – well, water if you are extremely thirsty. It is stale, and has a strange aftertaste to it, but in face of need, I can not be picky.

“You noticed? Three bowls? Funny.”

I freeze. I look over to the spot where my father normally sleeps. It is empty. Three bowls. Mother must have made this the evening I ran. Did father buy those ingredients? I know for a fact we had neither meat, nor potatoes and turnips at home. Or, did mother buy them to make him and myself a nice meal for when we return, unscathed? But her leg... If that is the case, what pain must she have went through to go to the market? To make this stew, to ready it on a table, to wait patiently, only to have no one return that day?

A hint of sorrow mixes itself with my cold thoughts, tainting them grey. I feel like crying, but not a single tear comes out. Odd, they flowed just fine yesterday...

Mother is not here. Where is she? I doubt she went out in the forest. If that is not the case, the only other place she could have gone to is the village, the more central part of it. I pour another cup, empty it with a few swift swigs, and put the cup back on the table. I remain in the doorstep for just a second, before finally closing the door and heading to the marketplace.

There is one place I have the greatest chance to find out about her whereabouts. Coincidentally, I also have other business to do there, namely a long due apology.

The marketplace is silent. Not surprising, considering it is deep in the night. The cloud cover has loosened up, and a fairly full moon shines on the ground and the nearby houses. Right in front of me, an exceptionally large house with a balcony and shaded windows stands, almost menacingly compared to the rather meagre houses next to it. A metal door knocker decorates the door. Memories come back, from when I first entered this house on my own. Back then, I was on a quest to get a book back. Now, I got to explain how the mayors son got injured, and people died.

Unlike last time, I do hesitate a bit. Yet, hesitation is the opposite of progress, and I therefore can not afford it. I knock, once, but powerfully. THUNK.

Nothing happens. After half a minute, I grab the knocker again. THUNK.

Again, nothing happens. I prepare to unleash a knocking staccato, but before I come to that, the door on the balcony opens, and a person steps onto the protruding platform, the mayor. He spots me, I notice that his expression immediately changes once he looks down. “You!” Uttering that, he vanishes in the building again, and no time after I hear wild footsteps on the stairs, coming closer by the second.

The door opens. In front of me stands a changed man, if not for the red hair, I would not have recognized him. The proud expression is substituted by extremely dark circles under his eyes. “Where the HELL where you? Why, why the HELL did you run away?” He hisses loudly. Overwhelmed by the angry words, I get a bit flustered.

“I, eh, wanted to check on Brian... Make sure he is alright...” Until now, I had not seen anyone this angry. Yet, the mayor being the mayor, he manages to keep his anger to a emotional level this time without making it physical.

“They would have killed you for that at magic university.” He turns his back to me, and proceeds to go up the stairs again. Only when he notices I am not following, he turns around. “What? We have to have a little talk. No need to wake up the whole neighbourhood for that.”

Killed? Was that a threat? I do not think so, but...

I step into the house, and close the door behind me. The mayor is already vanished. I head to the office, I have been here often enough to know the way. The doors to it are kept open by a door wedge. I enter, and a pitiful sight greets me. The mayor sits behind his desk, and behind his anger, there is also an incredible tiredness. His face looks like he has not slept in days. His shirt is crumpled, and he stares at me with his green, deep eyes. “That is a wonderful situation you got me into, is it not?”

“I am sorry.” I do not know what else to say.

Had I known how dangerous it is for Ione and Brian, I had not taught them magic. Had I known they would come to search for me, I would not have run away.

“You did know, and you know that.” The voice, totally different from the mayors, whispers me these words. It is cold, composed and calculating.

Right. I knew it. I just ignored it because the alternative seemed more pleasant. Was it not nice to play teacher, just to get company? Was it not nice to run away, to escape from responsibility? It sure was.

“I said I am sorry.”

“Oh, are you really? Is it not a bit late for this? The damage is already done... What does being sorry change now? Does it get people unhurt?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Yet again, I feel like crying. Every word this voice says hurts more than the time I fell into nettles when I was younger.

“I said I am sorry...” When will this voice be satisfied? I am sorry, and that is all I can do at the moment. What does it expect me to do? Create a miracle to revive the dead? Hunt down the predator?

“That would be a good start.” Gloating, stinging, malicious. This is the nature of this voice...

“I heard it the first time, no need to repeat it.” The mayor's words snap me back into reality. “Maybe I was harsh. You are a kid. What, 10 years old? What did I even expect of someone of that age?” The mayors anger seems to have subsided, at least partially. I look at his face. There is a deep tiredness in his looks. His age estimation might just be correct. It is about this time of the year that I grow a year older.

I want to say something, struggle for a good formulation, but the mayor beats me to it. “You know what that is like? Having a son unconscious, with a severe crippling injury? The healer said it is unlikely that this hand will ever be able to grip onto something ever again. On top of it, his wound got infected. We have proper medication, the healer assured me that his life is not in danger. But still, do you know what this does to a father?”

“No. I do not know it.” My words sound weak, but I can not muster the strength to change that fact. Brian is unconscious? His wound infected? The guilt on top of my shoulders feels as heavy as ever.

“Of course not, you are still a mere child. All I want to do now is sitting at his side.” He looks down on the papers piling on his desk.

“Why are you not doing that, then?”

“What a dumb question! I have to explain a lot of husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, sons and daughters why their relatives did not come back from a simple search trip.” The mayors voice sounds pleading at this point. I feel hit in the gut.

“Moreover, do you know how many friends I lost this day? Good acquaintances? People I have known for over a decade?”

I remain quiet. What should I even say to that? I know the number. Nine people, I counted.

My silence seems to be words enough. “Oh. Kuum... He was a good, honest man. Judging from your reaction and lack of questions, you already found out what happened to them. I am sorry for him.”

I nod, pathetically. Then, I remember why I came here initially.

“Where is my mother?”

“Iuli? She... is laying in our guest room, at the moment. She fell unconscious when she heard about what happened to her husband. We could hardly let her lie on the street, so we took her in. It was obvious that she was unable to care for herself, and it was not sure that you would ever return. Given what happened in the forest.”

“Can I see her?”

“She is asleep. Did you look outside? It is dark. Leave her that way.”

I see. Mother collapsed. To be fair, anyone who would have seen her walk would have suspected that only a matter of time. Yet, the final straw was shock.

What else has life on line? How is it going to shock me now? I feel dead. Inside.

“On top of it, I have to contact the magic guild. To send an Exterminator. To Cottan. Words I never thought I would have to use in a sentence.”

“An Exterminator?”

“Oh right, I forgot your worldly knowledge is as good as that of a loaf of bread. Listen, I would love to have an extensive talk about all of that. Not only you, I have questions as well. About magic. About how you taught my children. How everything came to this disaster. However, I have tasks I have to tend to, and as soon as possible. Requesting aid. Help. And, I have to think about how to do all of this without revealing the magic ability of my children, and you. So go now. Leave me alone.”

“What about Brian? Where is he?”

“At the village healer's house. Go now.”

I nod, and head out of the room. The last thing I see before closing the doors is the mayor grabbing a pen, sighing, and then starting to write on the paper on his desk.

Only after leaving the room, lots and lots of questions flood my head. Was he with the search crew? Did he see the attacker? If so, how did all of this go? Also, why would it be so bad if the magic academy learned of our magic? I think about entering the room again and demanding answers, but that would likely get the mayor even more upset than he already is.

Since Brian gave me an extended tour in this house once, I know where the guest room is. I open the door, and its well-oiled angles are not making any noticeable sounds. There are three tidy beds, and on one of them my mother is sleeping. The one in the middle is occupied by a person I do not recognize, and the one to the left is empty. I approach the bed in which my mother is, slowly as to not wake her up. She looks like she is sleeping like normal, so I leave her. I gently close the door, and quietly leave the house.

Even though I feel tired, my steps are not heavy, and I am not freezing. This could be part of the explanation of my headache – part of me was still calculating the necessary things to sustain two spells. I do not know how this became as easy as breathing, but it seems to be, and it saved my life once or twice, so I will not complain. The headache is noticeable, but is not of the sort that quenches clear thought.

The streets are still empty. This is probably for the best. I take the shortest path to the village healers house, and knock on the door, as silently as I can. Then a bit louder, and yet a bit, up to the point where the door is opened.

“Yes? What do you want?” The doctor looks at me with a slight hint of annoyance. “Are you injured on your own, or did you just thought you would come by for a sick visit?”

She has always been very direct, that is what I like about her. “I want to see Brian.”

She sighs. “At least it is not an injury that brings you here. I already have enough patients to tend to. But, congratulations for returning uninjured, I guess. I will say that I had liked the situation where you never ran away in the first place a whole lot better.”

The doctor has dark circles under her eyes as well. “I am sorry that things turned out as they did.” It may not be much, but an apology is all I can give at this point.

“Yes, I am too. I initially settled down here not to treat such gruesome injuries, you know?”

Another sentence to add onto my ever-growing mountain of guilt. “I am sorry.”

“I know. I need to go back in. Come with me. You have right and duty to see what your actions entailed.” She steps inside, and leaves the door open.

I gulp, and follow. The room is illuminated by a fire burning in a stove in the corner, which heats the room. All two beds are occupied, and there are three emergency mattresses laid out on the ground. In each of them lies a person, one of them completely covered by a blanket. Drips are standing next to the other ones, containing a clear fluid. The one to my left has a thick, bloodied bandage on his left arm. I recognize him as one of the villages lumberjacks. The second person I do not recognize, but where her left leg once was, there is a bandaged stump.

“What a sight, is it not? Makes you think we are at a front line, not in some boonies. It is a wonder that those three were still alive when they were carried here. The mayor sure is amazing. I saw him coming here, two of them shouldered by himself. Sadly, it was too late for one of them after all.” She looks bitterly to the completely covered body.

This sight makes me feel like puking more than what I have seen in the forest. The doctor hands me a bucket, right in time. All that comes out is a clear fluid that burns in my throat and mouth. The doctor is already at changing a wet towel on the head of one of the persons in the beds. I recognize him as the boy already here when I first came to this place with my concussion.

“You are not here to see the search crew survivors, are you? Go see who you are here to see. He is in the other bed. I need to tend to this boy here now, so do not interrupt me for the next minutes.” She gives me no glance after that.

Right, there was an other reason why I came here. I silently step up to the second bed. Brian lies in there, sleeping. He looks pale, and his right arm is bandaged and splinted. His hand, however, is just covered in an greenish paste. It is the fingers are all bent and broken in unnatural angles, and bone pieces are protruding here and there. I keep standing there and looking at him, uncertain what I should do.

Eventually, a hand finds its way onto my shoulder. “I can use you help.” I turn around. The doctor points at the covered corpse. “I need as much space in here as I can get. We need to to take him into my backyard, his condition will not worsen by that at this point. I would do it myself, but he is heavy.”

I look at her, perplexed for a second, then I nod. I release the self-lighten technique, with the intention to apply it to the freight afterwards. However, my legs are unable to handle the sudden weight increase, and I slump down.

I see the doctor rushing to me at the side of my eye, but I get up on my own, with trembling legs. “I am fine, I am fine.” Being remembered my true weight, my body suddenly feels very tired. My headache grows worse as a result of the dwindling magic euphoria. Yet, I need to do this before allowing myself to sleep. I walk over to the body, and apply my whole remaining coefficient as upwards acceleration. I fail the first two attempts, but on the third, the magic euphoria I got used to sets in. It is not nearly enough to make this body weightless, but it should at least halve the effective weight.

I try to lift the corpse on my own, but it is still to heavy for my tired self. The doctor comes to help, and together, we carry the body through the backdoor into the yard. Miscellaneous herbs are growing in neat rows, even protruding through the snow cover. “It does not look like it will rain tonight, so we can just put him on the snow here. It is not perfect, but what time allows.” We put the body down, and return back into the house.

Once we are back in the treatment room, I get back to my position next to Brian.

“That was surprisingly light just now. Did you do something?” I turn around, and nod in answer to the question. “Remarkable... The mayor told me that you, as well as his children, learned to use magic. That this is how Brian got injured.” I nod again. “I can not even begin to fathom how you managed all of this. It is surreal, really.”

Bitterness surges into my voice. “It is not like any good came from it yet.”

“True... Go now. You look terrible, you have to get rest. I don't need another patient I have to tend to.” The doctor gives me my sign to leave. I want to stay here, but I realize that this would be unreasonable.

“Truthfully.” I open the door outside, get a last view on the doctor already being at work again, changing one of the infusions for the victims on the ground, and close it behind me.

Where to should I go? I do not feel like returning to my shed. I do not feel like begging the mayor for a guest bed, either. I can not bother the doctor for a bed, either. In face of magic self-heating – what does a bed even matter? The ground in front of me suddenly looks very alluring. I yawn, and roll together in the snow. It is a bit cold, but rather a slight chill. I felt hot in the house, so this is a welcome refreshment.

I close my eyes, and sleep overcomes me.

Dream 5

I sit on a chair in my shed. The other two chairs are occupied as well, by my father without a head, and Brian without an arm. A pot of stew is cooking itself on the stove, cutting vegetables on its own. We all wait for food in silence. After ten minutes, the pot serves itself, and all of us have stew in our bowls now. The silence bugs me out, so I try taking word.

“Do you think we will stay like this forever?”

Father squirms around on his chair.

Brian answers, but it is not his voice, yet rather a very cold and dark one. “Why would I want to talk to you? You mutilated me.”

Insulted by this rebuke, I snap back. “Yes? Is that so? Well, keep whining about it, and you will never have friends.” I sigh, and turn around to father. “What about you?”

The same voice speaks again. Father does not have a mouth. In order to speak, he gurgles something from the red line on his neck where his head was severed. “Why would I want to talk to you? You killed me.”

I sigh. “What else do you want me to do? I did what I could.”

Suddenly, the two fall over. Black smoke dissipates from their bodies, and finally forms another person in front of me. The dark voice is now clear as ever, freed from the impurities of Brian's childish tongue and the normal inability to speak that comes with being headless.

“You know what to do now. Go, and get revenge! Kill the beast that is the cause for all of this!”

“But what will that change?” Even if I set out to kill the beast, and manage to do it, it will not bring the dead back, it will not heal Brian's arm.

“That are the thoughts of a coward. It is about justice! Justice is what will solve this situation. Go now!” The voice sounds almost commanding now. The black silhouette grows further and further.

“I do not want to...” I try to ward it off in a last, desperate attempt.

“GO!” The creature expands even more rapidly than before, and covers everything in darkness.