It had been four days since they left Arcaster. Matthaeus rode as he normally did, seated just behind Reyland on his mare, Lucy, watching the countryside slowly pass by. It was a clear day, the skies a pale blue and both moons were prominent high above. Far behind them, to the north where Arcaster lay, clouds still covered the sky, dark and heavy. But, with each passing hour, they grew farther away.
For the first few days of the ride, Matthaeus had needed constant breaks. His backside had been hurting so much from the unfamiliar feeling of horseback riding, not to mention his previous injuries. It had been slow going, but he was steadily improving. Even his injuries bothered him less and less as the days went by, only his left leg and arm really giving him trouble. And sometimes his chest… or head… come to think of it, his right wrist still ached when he bent it upwards too much…
Abruptly, they came to a stop, and Matthaeus clenched tight with his knees to avoid falling off the horse. His momentum carried him face first into Reyland’s back, his nose colliding a bit painfully with the scaled armour the apprentice wore.
Matthaeus looked around curiously, clutching his sore nose as he scanned the fields around them. They were some kind of grain or wheat, but now so late in the season had been laid flat to the earth, leaving the fields barren for as far as the eye could see. The only thing of note Matthaeus could see was a smattering of old farmhouses and barns, their thatch rooves and a single decrepit windmill the only thing that broke above the horizon.
At the front, Griff deftly slid off his horse, landing with barely a sound on the dirt trail.
“See something?” Reyland asked quietly. Matthaeus noted how the apprentice’s left hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
Griff was staring at something on the ground, kneeling low and investigating whatever it was intently. Matthaeus strained to see around Reyland, but nearly slid off the horse in the process. Reyland caught him with one hand, helping to push him back up into the saddle as the boy blushed a bit in embarrassment.
“Drakehounds,” Griff muttered, just loud enough to be heard. “Wild ones.”
Reyland tssked under his breath, frowning as he started watching the fields slowly.
What’s happening? What do they see? Matthaeus wondered, shifting around in his seat. His Arkasian had been getting better, he knew simple words now, but he hadn’t understood anything of what Griff had said.
“Watch for gulleys, bridges, and overhanging branches,” Griff said, to which Reyland nodded.
Matthaeus peeked out from behind Reyland’s back just in time to see Griff climb back onto his horse with a practised ease he couldn’t help feeling jealous of. Just how many years would it take for him to get to that point..?
“We’ll take refuge in one of the farmhouses before dusk falls. Keep your eyes open,” Griff commanded as his horse started walking again without any visible command.
Matthaeus watched as Griff started riding away at a slow, lazy pace, but Reyland made no motion to follow, Lucy stopping to graze on some of the few remaining strands of grass instead. After a moment Reyland sighed, before turning back to look at him.
“Drakehounds. Beasts,” Reyland said slowly and clearly. Matthaeus’ eyes widened a bit as he recognized the second word, and pieced it all together. Griff must have seen something… maybe footprints?
The boy nodded back in response, and rested a hand on the handle of his dagger much the same way Reyland did his sword. There was something comforting in the cold steel of the guard and the sturdy leather grip.
For the rest of the afternoon they rode in silence. Reyland’s normal banter or whistling had gone quiet, as all three of them kept eyes peeled on the fields around them. While Matthaeus wasn’t exactly sure what a drakehound was, his only experience with beasts hadn’t been something he wanted to repeat just yet.
As the sun came close to setting over the horizon several hours later, Griff led them to an old house that was set slightly up on a hill. A stone well sat just beside it, and a barn lay at the bottom of the hill not far away.
“Bring the horses inside,” Griff ordered as he slid off his horse and opened the front door. It was unlocked and opened easily, revealing a dark, musty interior that seemed long abandoned.
Matthaeus winced as he got off the horse, stretching his back out to try and rid himself of the ache after another day of riding. He followed Griff into the old house, nose wrinkling up at the thick smell of must and mildew. They had entered straight into the kitchen of the house, with a narrow staircase leading up in the corner, a door to a living room just next to them and a door to perhaps a basement beside that. Everything was covered in a layer of dust, and what little light filtered in through the small windows left gentle white streaks through the air.
A moment later Reyland stepped inside, holding Lucy’s lead and guiding the horse inside. She clopped uncomfortably along the hardwood floor, shaking her mane with a whinny. Her head nearly touched the ceiling of the tiny house.
“I know girl, I know,” Reyland whispered, patting her nose softly. There was a surprisingly gentle expression on his face. “It’s just for the night, to keep you safe. You can be back out in the fields in the morning.”
Griff disappeared into the other room, then quickly came back and opened the door to the basement, revealing a steep, narrow staircase.
“Stay upstairs, I’ll be back shortly,” Griff said in Norlin, to which Matthaeus didn’t respond. Instead he watched as Griff drew his oversized knife and disappeared down the stairs, and listened as the man’s heavy boots descended. Reyland also left the house again, having released Lucy into the larger, other room, and went back outside to get Griff’s horse.
Matthaeus’ eyes were drawn to the staircase leading upstairs, and four days of being stuck on the back of a horse caught up to him at last. Being unsupervised for perhaps the first time in his short memory, the urge to explore a little won out over his desire to find a place to lay down. Besides… Griff had only told him to stay upstairs, so this wasn’t even against the rules, right?
He quietly crept up the stairway, only to be struck by a thought halfway up. If Griff had his knife out on the stairs, shouldn’t he, too? After all, what if something was up there? He drew the dagger from where it was sheathed on his belt, tucked away at his back behind his right hip, and tried to figure out how best to hold it. Tighter, and with more power, like Griff did, or loose and fast, like Reyland? He struggled to find a comfortable grip, but ultimately couldn’t find something that felt just right, and instead settled for holding it in two hands like a sword.
Matthaeus felt a bit excited then, as he got to the top of the stairs. He swung his sword carefully, blocking an imaginary beast jumping at him, then countered with a clumsy lunge and a faint ‘ha!’
His foot hit a creaky board as he finished the lunge, and he cringed at the sound of it, suddenly feeling very silly.
“Ferocious little guy, aren’t ya?” Reyland’s voice spoke up from behind him on the stairs, and Matthaeus jumped in surprise. Turning to find the bronze-haired apprentice standing on the stairs just below him, with a tight lipped, knowing smiled plastered over his face, Matthaeus went bright red as he hung the dagger limply at his side.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“Aw, well, don’t let me stop you!” Reyland said, letting his smile grow as he drew his own shortsword. He then held it tight in both hands, just like Matthaeus had been, and moved to stand back to back with the confused boy. “Come on then, we’ve got a house to search!”
While still a beet red colour in the face, Matthaeus looked curiously up at the apprentice. It was harder to tell on horseback or from a distance, but this close together Reyland absolutely towered over him, the top of Matthaeus’ head only reaching his belly. Still, despite the difference a look of understanding passed between them, courtesy of a wink from Reyland.
Feeling a little guilty, but still excited, Matthaeus put both hands back on the dagger and tried to mimic Reyland’s exaggerated pose, resting back-to-back with each other.
“Let’s go!” Reyland whispered excitedly, and Matthaeus responded with another ‘Ha!’ as the two swept through the upstairs rooms with grins on their faces. From one room to the next they would burst in, sometimes quietly and creeping along in a crawl, sometimes striding in like they belonged, once Reyland even kicked in the door as they burst inside… Matthaeus actually laughed at that one.
There were a surprising number of rooms upstairs, all just tiny, still furnished bedrooms, but devoid of much more than the furniture and the dust. That didn’t stop them from their game, though, and as the burst into the last bedroom, Reyland brandishing his shortsword like a barbarian would a club, Matthaeus couldn’t keep a smile off his face.
“Well, partner, I do think that pronounces this house safe. Good work, my fine fellow!” Reyland chirped, sheathing his sword in a dramatic motion and resting both hands on his hips, chest puffed up.
Matthaeus smiled sheepishly and sheathed his own dagger, before scratching the back of his head shyly. It felt… nice, to just play a game. He wished there were more rooms to go through…
“So you’ve found yourself a partner in crime at last, then,” Griff announced from the hallway, causing both of the boys to jump a little.
“Blimey, would it kill you to make a little bit of noise when you walk up behind someone, mate?” Reyland said, grabbing at his chest. “You’re quieter than the dead. It’s almost enough to give a bloke a heart attack, you know?”
“No, it wouldn’t kill me to make some noise walking up behind you. Though it might kill you to not be paying enough attention.”
Reyland sighed in resignation.
“Was the basement fine?” Reyland asked. Griff nodded, then tossed something Matthaeus couldn’t see clearly in the dim lighting to the apprentice. Reyland caught it, a bit confused, before his eyes went a bit wide in excitement. Matthaeus, only following the conversation through expressions, instantly started straining to see what Reyland was holding.
It appeared to be a glass jar of something, maybe a food? Matthaeus didn’t recognize it, but Reyland seemed excited, so…
“Please tell me we still have some bread to put this on somewhere. Do you even know how long it’s been since I’ve had some proper jam?”
Griff tossed his apprentice a small pouch, inside of which was the typical hardtack bread that they carried as rations. Matthaeus had grown to know it quickly over their journey… and grown tired of it just as fast.
“Settle down for the night wherever you please, the house will be safe enough for the night. Don’t bother me until morning,” Griff dismissed, then walked back down the stairs, noticeably making loud footsteps the entire way.
Reyland shot Matthaeus a grin, before taking a seat on the floor right where he had been standing. Matthaeus sat cross legged next to him, leaning in and tilting his head to get a better look at the jar.
“You know, I’ve always wondered what kind of foods they eat up in the Norlands,” Reyland said, licking at his lips as he struggled to pull the lid off the jar. “Do they have boysenberries and mint, lamb and duck, the odd goose or two… or is it all stuff you can’t even find down here?”
Matthaeus nodded along, watching the jar intently. He hadn’t understood a word, nor was he really trying to. The second Reyland had pulled the lid off, a sweet, tart, and mouthwatering smell had wafted out pleasantly. After four days of hardtack, Matthaeus couldn’t pull his eyes from the deep red, sticky substance inside.
“Well, whether you did before or not, you and I are enjoying a real treat tonight,” Reyland said with a crooked grin and a wink. Matthaeus’ only response was a grumble from his belly.
They ate there, on the floor of the last bedroom. The sweet berry flavours were better than anything Matthaeus had expected, and he ate his fill until he could eat no more. As the food filled him the day caught up to him, and his eyelids began to shut. The last thing he remembered was being picked up carefully, laid down in something soft and warm, and then the darkness of sleep took him comfortably into its embrace.
----------------------------------------
“Have you had enough there, dear?” An elderly woman’s voice called. It was thin and scratchy, but filled with kindness and warmth like a fireplace on a snowy day.
Matthaeus felt his head nodding, and his belly filled almost to the point where it was uncomfortable, but not quite. He heard a laugh, and then a hand patted the top of his head gently.
“Hmph, well I guess you’ll have to learn the family recipes then after all, oh daughter of mine,” the elderly woman said with a tease in her voice. Another voice then, much younger, higher, and more feminine responded with a giggle.
“You know that I’m as hopeless at baking as I am at cooking, Mother,” the younger woman said.
At the sound of that younger woman, Matthaeus smiled. If the first woman’s voice had been a warm fireplace, then this second woman was a soft, gentle blanket. Both of them seemed so familiar, so known to him, but try as he might, he couldn’t open his eyes enough to see. He felt so full, so tired, so content, that all he saw was the blur of eyes that were only open a crack.
“Always eat well, Matthaeus, so you can grow up big and strong someday, yes?” The younger woman’s voice said, and Matthaeus again felt himself nodding, even as sleep pulled at him. “Especially if it’s Amma’s cooking… she can be mean if you’re insulting her mondlukaka.”
There was a loud shout of offence from the older woman, and a high, clear laugh from the younger woman. Matthaeus could feel a smile on his own face as he closed his eyes, and drifted off.
----------------------------------------
When morning came, Matthaeus awoke slowly. There was a heavy, warm blanket over him, maybe several, and the weight kept him comfortably low in the bed. It was only as he lay there, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he remembered the pleasant dream he had been having, that something started to bother him.
The bed didn’t feel quite right. It wasn’t… his. While it was comfy, there was a certain foreignness to it that slowly became more and more noticeable now that he had recognized it. The smile faded from his face as a question rose in his groggy, sleep-addled mind.
Where was he? What bed had he gone to sleep in?
He opened his eyes and saw an unfamiliar ceiling. The blankets over him were made of wool, not the pelts and furs he had been expecting, and the bed was far too high off the ground. He looked around the room and finally remembered where he was.
It all came rushing back at once. Being chased through the woods. Waking up in the church, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. The panic of not knowing who he was. The tree, the wolves, the Blight…
Matthaeus sat upright with a wince, his leg and one of his ribs twinging uncomfortably at the motion. He rested his forehead against his knees, both arms wrapped around his legs loosely.
For a moment, just a moment, he had forgotten. All of the terrible things that had happened, they had slipped from his mind. Replaced by a single dream, no, a memory, he was sure of it, from the time before all of this had happened. For that brief moment when he was waking up, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could remember it all. Who he was, where he was from, who the voices he remembered hearing belonged to, all of it. But then, just like that, it was gone.
And he wasn’t sure which he was more terrified of. Continuing to forget who he was before, or that brief feeling of forgetting who he was now. Just as he had forgotten of the Blight and the pain and the fear, so too had he forgotten the church. Arthur and Matilda, who’d looked after him, Reyland and his goofy grins and childish antics, Griff and the stoic, comforting presence he offered.
He stayed like that for some time, not looking up from his own knees. There was light coming in through the single window in the bedroom, enough to tell him it was morning, but only barely. He heard nothing from downstairs, and so made no motion to get out of bed. Instead he sat quietly, running through every memory that he had in as much detail as he could recall. Each one, while often unpleasant, were all that he had now. Whoever he had been before, and whatever he had done before… it was lost to him now. For the first time, that had really sunk in, and it scared him. It scared him to the very core.
When he finally heard movement downstairs, he welcomed the distraction, and the reason to get out of bed. It was going to be a long day of travel again, of that and nothing else was he certain.