Rusk heard the flies buzzing all around and felt them pelting his skin with more force than the heavy raindrops from the sky serpent. He flailed and ducked and dodged all he could, but what could be done against a swarm besides that? Especially with only arrows for weapons. He briefly entertained the idea that it would’ve been better to ask the Elva for fire or bombs or something else with a blast radius. But the weapon Rusk had chosen in the beginning and honed was a bow, and trying to change that now would be impossible. Magic responded to determination, not desperation.

Unfortunately, desperation was all Rusk had at the moment. Desperation and fatigue. It resulted in shaky flailing that served no purpose except to anger the flies further. Rusk hunkered down, covered his face with his arms, and in a last attempt to escape he crouched-ran deeper into the settlement.

He crashed into the side of a building.

The swarm had followed and crashed with him, blanketing him in black. The cloud writhed across his skin, little needle feet and insectoid eyes pin-prickling their trails over damp sweaty skin and the leather and cloth outfit he wore. Rusk sank to his knees and waited to die. He was that tired.

But he didn’t die. The swarm gave one collective scream of a buzz and lifted off of him all at once. Rusk was so shocked he didn’t dare question it, and kept his arms overhead for a moment longer than necessary. He eventually peeked through the gaps of his guard to see the flies reconvening high in the sky, above the extended hand of a man he had never seen before. The man reminded Rusk of Iya Tarfell. He wore a hero’s garb, if that even existed, and carried himself with confidence, a shock of white robes and a gray beard to match his streaked hair marked him as a weathered, experienced individual. And Rusk was glad for it.

Gingerly, Rusk raised himself to his feet and wiped down his clothes, though that didn’t do much for all the deposits he’d rolled through. The building he’d run into turned out to be made of mudbrick, and his shoulder was thankful it hadn’t been constructed of stone.

The flies above the new man’s hand buzzed, but the sound was softer, lower, muffled as if coming from a very great distance. Then the man clenched his fist, and the swarm vanished in a single whoosh of blackened air. Rusk could swear he heard the splatter of all of them, all those insects destroyed at once, squashed by the air itself, or perhaps from the inside out.

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The man lowered his arm to look at Rusk, and Rusk doubled over his legs, gasping and coughing and making a very bad first impression as far as heroics is concerned.

“Thanks,” said Rusk, eventually. When he could.

“It is the calling,” said the man. “I am Greil, a Hero from Sanctuary. Who are you, young man, to be so far into a monster’s territory? This town was taken long ago. I’ve been appointed to deal with the matter. I didn’t expect a civilian to wander into the swarm zone.”

“Swarm zone?” Rusk shook his head, remembering he’d been addressed with a direct question. “I’m Rusk. Uh. Aspiring hero. Seems I’ve run into the bad luck early.”

Greil laughed.

“You’re from Sanctuary?” asked Rusk.

Greil bowed. It was very formal, but also held an air of amusement, as if he hadn’t made the gesture in a very long time and wasn’t used to it any more.

“This might be an odd inquiry, but. Where exactly is Sanctuary?”

“My boy, do you mean to tell me you aspire to be a hero without even knowing that?”

“Well. Yeah.”

Greil straightened out, crossed his arms, and gave Rusk a once over. It was the most embarrassing thing Rusk had ever been subjected to, even though Greil never so much as moved to touch him directly. Those steely grey eyes were enough to send shivers of shame down Rusk’s spine.

What a time to meet an idol, after you’ve been nearly suffocated by a swarm of monster flies.

Rusk cringed and tried to turn it into a smile. It was either sheepish or a grimace. He didn’t have the energy to decipher, and Greil was nodding at him anyway so the whole thing blew over very quickly.

“You have heart, I’ll give you that.”

Kinder words had never been spoken. Except maybe a few things Mandy had said over the years.

“Sanctuary is located on an island. Very far from here. She’s situated at the base of a volcano, which is where initiation takes place if one aspires to become one of us. One of the Heroes from Sanctuary. Hero as a title rather than a descriptor.”

Rusk nodded, trying to keep his breathing even and not scratchy. The dryness in his throat made him cough despite his best efforts to the contrary.

“Say, young man.”

“Rusk.”

“Yes, yes. Rusk.” Greil moved closer and clapped a hand on Rusk’s shoulder. “You look terrible.”

A laugh halfway between bitterness and amusement burst out of Rusk’s throat.

“Travel with me for a while,” said Greil.

There was no arguing. Even if Rusk had wanted to he wouldn’t have had the means to take care of himself after the storm and the swarm. But he did have one request. A borderline condition. Partially for the sake of convincing Greil he wasn’t totally without valor, and partially because the opportunity arose of its own accord and Rusk would’ve been foolish not to say anything.

“If you’re from Sanctuary, any chance you’ve got a map?”