It had been three months since Malkin left the village. Three months since my old friend became our enemy. Three months since we set out on his trail. I still remember the hesitation I felt when we came to the border of our village, the reluctance I saw on my friend’s faces. When we crossed that unseen - yet painfully real - line, we had left home. It was everything I had ever wanted: to leave home, to adventure, to delve into the unknown, to do battle with bandits and beasts. To purge evil from the land. Now that I was faced with a tangible evil, one that we marched forward to, I felt less enthusiastic.
But, there was no going back. Were we the adventurers I wanted us to be? Trouble makers and fools, like the elders called us? Maybe we were all three, maybe we were something else. I struggle to see why it matters. There are no elders, out here in the wode. There are no fools, here in our camp. There are no adventurers, here in our souls. I never anticipated the fear I would feel. Not knowing what something is as it crawls under my bed roll. Wondering what broke a twig in the night. What I never could think to anticipate was just how exciting the fear was.
The clink of gold in my hands, the fresh air in my lungs, the freedom of having no restrictions; these were all things I expected to bring me excitement as I traveled. I did not anticipate the rush of emotion I would receive gripping the rusted dagger at my side. Seeing my friends faces fill with terror, while mine became flush with drive and elation. The rush of pride that came from scaring a beast off in the night with a flaming torch as bright as the hunger inside of me for more beasts and more broken twigs and more things under my bed roll.
I loved every second of it. At least I did. I used to.
Pushing through trees baron of leaves, their canopies crunching beneath our step, we were greeted to a sickly familiar sight. We had seen multiple villages that Malkin had torn through. They were a melancholic reminder that Malkin had cast a grim shadow upon the land. As we passed through burning rubble that was once buildings and bodies that were once people, we tried not to exclaim our horror at every site. Roppen, our stoic friend, spoke up.
“These are recent,” he said as he poked a spot of orange embers with his staff, “within the day if I had to guess.”
No one spoke. After so long, so much marching and travelling, we were so close. The idea of being so close filled my lungs with stone. I knew the others felt it too, they knew not where to put their eyes. When we all looked at each other we felt scared of the possibility of finding him. When we looked around we saw the devastation he had rained, we knew we had to press forward. In a silent agreement we spread out to search the rubble. We had never found survivors - yet we always searched out of hope.
Whether it was how recent the town was attacked or just the poor souls' sad luck, we were shocked to find him still breathing under charred wooden beams, grey tendrils of wispy smoke still rising into the air like hands reaching towards the sky for help. Aden, the most loving but difficult person I knew, was the one who called us over. As he bent down near the man, ash covered his pale skin. His hair - long golden strands that went down to his shoulders - now hung in clumps from everything around us in the air. His eyes were not hopeful, when we got closer we understood why. A crimson pool saturated the ground around the man, but the ash that coated him like a second sickly skin made it difficult to discern an origin. His breath escaped in ragged gasps, every bit of air that came through sounded like it would be his last. Lenora, the most innocent of us all, was the first to speak.
“Sir, hello,” she put a hand on his stomach and, as if he was awakening from a deep sleep, he attempted to rise. A short gasp came as he forcefully fell back toward the earth. He pried open his eyes as much as he could, two bloodshot orbs looked back at us. His crusted, ashen lips tore themselves open to speak.
“Water.”
Lenora pulled out her water skin quicker than any of us. She put her hand behind his head and lifted him as she brought the drink to his lips. She ignored the congealed blood that coalesced on the hand supporting his head. He drank before laying back down. He looked around to each of us, more seeing through us than anything. His lips, still cracked but somewhat hydrated, broke open as he spoke again.
“A man, no, a demon tore through. He rained black fire down on us. There was no time to run as men, women, and children turned to ash. I was saved by the timber falling on me. I saw fire and flame before my sight left me. I heard screams and bellows before my hearing left me. I feel my life leaving me, I will use my final seconds to plead to you. You, who wander through a burnt village and see a dead body as if it is not a husk of a mortal. You, who carry weapons at your sides, ready for war. You, adventurers, I plead that you find this man, the one who did this, and I plead that you stop him.”
With that final breath, he rested an eternal sleep. I didn’t know what to say. No one had any clue what should be said, how to say it, or why to say it. We sat there, letting the moment sink in like the blood in the dirt. Aden’s shrill voice rose above the silence.
“This won’t end peacefully.”
Lenora looked away from the man’s corpse, eyes averted towards our shoes, she spoke quietly, “Says who?”
“Says these people,” Roppen gestured around to everything: the ashes, the rubble, the quiet that people once took up. I glared at my friend and spoke.
“Lenora might be on to something, violence is not the only answer we may have-”
“It’s the most applicable,” Aden said, “do you suppose we simply talk him down from his mighty throne of evil, we’re not necessarily in a position to negotiate.”
Lenora rose with a fury, “I don’t see why you’re so eager to kill our friend.”
“He is not our friend anymore, Lenora,” under his long, brown coat Roppen’s shoulders seemed to sag, “our friend would not have done this. It is best for everything and everyone that this ends.”
I was outraged at their cowardice, to easily give up on Malkin, “Our friend didn’t do this! He’s not acting under his own control, he can’t be, it has to be the Old One tampering with him. How dare you even think of ending him?”
“How dare he end this man? How dare he destroy the villages we’ve passed just to get here? His actions have spoken for him, Bellum. Would you be the one to face him down and attempt to talk with him?” Aden strut forward as he spoke. Every question garnered another step toward me. Our eyes sparred wordlessly as we stood there in the husk of a village.
Lenora was the first to break through the silence, her voice merely a squeak, “Part of him has to be in there, he’ll see us and he’ll let us talk to him. He has to.” She quickly shifted her sight up to Roppen’s tall figure, “It’ll be like the story books, right, Roppen? When the old friend sees those he cared about and, just for a second, a split second, he is himself again.” Her eyes betrayed the lie she was telling herself. Hearing it from her made it seem so story book; it made it seem so impossible. I didn’t want to admit it, but it did seem insane.
Roppen’s eyes betrayed the guilt he felt as he spoke, “Lenora, those are stories. Fables to bring children to sleep, they are not fact. That man,” he pointed to the dead survivor,” that body, is fact. Fact that if we can not talk Malkin down, then we have no other choices. More villages will burn, more people will burn, more of our world will burn. This can not continue.” He looked at me, his eyes pleading for hopeful words to give: I had none. Lenora’s eyes became red as tears fell. I grabbed her in my arms.
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“He wouldn’t hurt us Belly, I know he wouldn’t.” Her words came out in sobs, she held onto me as tight as she could.
“I know Len, he won’t,” I looked over her shoulder at Aden and Roppen, silently telling them not to disagree, “he won’t do anything to anybody.”
I wish I was right. The next morning when we awoke Lenora was gone. Her bed roll was gone, as was her pack and supplies. No trail could be found, calling her name was a lost cause, she was just gone. Our voices horse and rough, we came back to the camp.
I was the first to declare, “We have to find her.”
Aden sheepishly spoke, “Bellum, I don’t thin-”
Already grabbing my gear, I said, “Don’t even. We are finding her and we are finding her now.” Roppen, who I expected to be coming with me, didn’t budge. “Roppen, grab your things, you goat licker. Are you both too stupid to realize that our friend is gone?”
“Belly, look behind you.”
I turned, pitch black smoke was poisoning the clouds above. It spread out into the air, threatening to choke the light out of the sky. Somehow, I knew it was him. Nothing natural could ever look and feel so evil. In the rolling smoke and fumes I swore that eyes and skulls wisped through, staring down at me in disgust. Seeing an epitome of true evil made the man’s words seem so distant. The way he called us adventurers made me sick. This was adventure? Staring evil down and knowing you may have to end someone you once loved like a brother? I felt sullen.
“We have to go.” Roppen spoke with stoicism but just under his voice - under that commanding tone - I heard the sorrow. None of us wanted to leave Lenora, we wanted to find her. Was it just because marching forward had a dreaded finality to it or was it to find our friend? I still cannot say. Without any talk we agreed to collect our gear and march to the smoke. We each felt that it had to be him.
The trees seemed to close behind us as we walked. The canopy above us strangled the light as we walked, we walked for what may have been forever, our only markers were the indistinguishable oaks that surrounded us. Their long arms reached far into the sky as if ready to slam down on top of us. We were spread out as the trees seemed determined to work their way between us. Aden and Roppen were a dozen feet to my right, we walked as if afraid of the noise we might make. Every broken twig or rustled leaf sent a pang of fear to our stomachs.
If the smoke was close we couldn’t smell it. I expected the air to smell of moss and grass, natural smells. Instead the scent of rotted wood flew into our nostrils, attacking us with it’s repulsive odor. No birds or crickets chirped or sang. There was only the creek of sullen wood; the sound of diseased trees collapsing under their own weight. Once again, I felt like an adventurer, a brave hero deftly traversing into unknown danger to bring order. In that moment I forgot the dead man and his words, I forgot the missing friend I abandoned to be here, I forgot the goal we pressed forward to and the decision one of us would have to make.
I forgot everything besides adventure till I heard the scream. Roppen’s low voice filled the air as he flew back. A swirling, black flame of skulls sprung from the ground in front of him. The air was instantly hot around us, the blast blew branches off of the trees. Roppen let loose another guttural scream as he lay on his back. His left arm was mangled and gushing crimson blood. The sleeve of his tunic and jacket blasted off and nowhere to be seen. His arm looked like a bear attack had taken place in all of three seconds. A loud voice echoed through the brush, the trees bent themselves backwards in fear from the force behind it.
“Come, Bellum. Only you may enter.”
It really was him. It was Malkin. I turned to see Aden’s reaction, he was already bandaging Roppen’s arm. The wild look in his eyes connected with my internal terror. His panicked voice and our friend’s wailings created a cacophony of horror in my head.
“Belly, do what he said, I’ve got Roppen! Just go!’
The fear I felt was not the kind that rang true with excitement; I felt true terror in every inch of myself. My muscles shook with a ravaging cold, my mouth hung agape like the door to a castle under siege, my eyes dared not look away from the gushing, sanguine liquid flowing from my friend. I could see every drip as it left his body, soaking into the hungry earth just like the man from the village. The hair on my arms stood straight at attention, it was as scared as I was and dared not move.
Malkin’s voice echoed once more, “Bellum, will you really leave dear Lenora hear all by her lonesome?”
Aden looked up at me and with as much vitriol as he could muster screamed, “Go!”
I gripped my blade and ran towards the edge of the forest. As I ran it seemed as though the impossibly long wooded area shrunk before me. It was only a matter of seconds before I stood in a great clearing, giant tree trunks piled in the center. A great, black plume of smoke turned the sky from night to day. The sun did not attempt to break through, no light emanated from the pitch black fire that burned the trunks. In front of it stood my old friend, his short black hair was now shaggy and dirty. He wore long black robes that flowed where his feet were and made it seem like he levitated over the ground, as if he was above such mortal things. Six feet to his side was Lenora, on her knees in the dirt, a sword floating in the air behind her head. It’s blade dangerously close to ending her. Malkin spread his hands out.
“Welcome. I have missed you so, Bellum.”
My eyes were fixated on Lenora, “Len, are you okay? Say something, Lenora, please.”
Her eyes strayed not from the black dirt. No noise came from her mouth, it didn’t even seem like she was breathing, as if the air was held prisoner inside of her. Malkin didn’t even turn to acknowledge her as he spoke.
“She is not important here, none of them,” his arm raised and gestured back toward the tree line, “are important here. Bellum, you are the only person I have missed since my rise to power began.”
“I’ve missed you too, Malkin. We’ve all missed you - me, Roppen, Aden, Lenora - come back with us and we don’t have to miss each other anymore.”
His brow lurched into a glare, true fear touched my soul and left its mark, “Go back? Why would I ever go back? I have everything I want here, everything I could ever need. People bow before me, people hang off my every word when I command them.” The anger left him and his pale cheeks stretched as he bared his teeth in a grin, “I have so much to offer you, so much to show you. The world used to be so tiny to me, I hated that village. What He has given me allows my fingers to touch lives miles away. My sight extends anywhere I wish. The only thing I don’t have is you, Bellum. My truest friend. The Old One can give you this power too, you always wanted to explore - to adventure - well now you can!” His excitement rose like a kettle coming to a boil, “anywhere you want to go, name it and you will. There are no more elders telling us who we are, no more town borders holding us like prisoners, no one else to tell us what we can and can not do. Bellum, you and I could rule everything. The more I destroy, the more the resistance to my will falters. This nation and its people are practically on their knees to serve me, to serve us!”
“Why would I follow you? I have no grudge against these people or this land, I don’t hate the village that raised me.”
“They aren’t your blood, why would you care? They were the ones that told you not to go into the caves, the ones who reprimanded Roppen and Lenora for hanging out with you and Aden. They did the bare minimum for you and that was it. Our friends were a nice distraction, but it is not their time anymore. It is ours, our time in an age that resented us.”
“They are not evil, Malkin, they were friends and family to both of us,” I took shaky steps backwards in disgust, “you’re sick. You’re sick for even threatening our friend’s life when she believed in you!”
My words reminded him of Lenora’s presence, he gazed over his shoulder and raised a hand, “why, dear Lenora, maybe you will have a use after all.” As he spoke the sword above Lenora moved ever closer to her throat, “join me or I end Lenora. If you are so attached to the little mouse, then you will see my reason. For her sake, afterall.”
Lenora was inches away from a death by her friend’s will. No, not her friend. Not my friend. Not our friend or Roppen’s friend or Aden’s friend, not anymore. I had tried to talk him down, to convince him to come home with us. To be my brother again. None of it was any use, whether he was always like this or the Old One had warped him into such a confusing beast, I would never know. I do know that my rusted dagger felt heavy in my hands. My knuckles gripped it till they turned white, not out of fury or anger or excitement. Not even out of fear if I had to be honest. Some small part of me was doing it’s best to prepare an assault, to attack, to best him and save the day. Like an adventurer would. I did not feel like an adventurer, I felt scared, I felt like a child in front of something mighty. I stepped forward.
He was pleased to see me walk towards his open embrace, his arms were wide open for a joyous hug. The truest happiness I had ever seen adorned his face, for a moment he looked human, but he did not look like the man I knew. He was something else now. With each shaky step I took, it felt like my legs were ready to pull me into the mud and clay. His arms were up. His defence was down.
I need not explain how my rusted knife pierced his heart as I lunged at him. I need not explain how I brought Lenora back to Aden and Roppen. Roppen with his arm bandaged and Aden clothed in his blood. Both of them alive, both of them surprised to see me carrying Lenora in my blood soaked arms. I layed Lenora with them and spoke only a few words as I walked away through the brush.
“I love you all.”
I have learned now, adventure is not fun. It is not exciting, glamorous, fulfilling, it was not beautiful or elegant. It did not build character or plant strengths within you. It was danger at every corner. It was blood soaked so far into your hands you see it after cleaning it off. It was risking your friend’s lives because you couldn’t sit still and accept what you had around you. Adventure gave me nothing, but took everything. I cannot see my friends anymore, their faces all share his wicked grin. I could never return to that simple village, teeming with people just like him. I lost my family on that day. I lost my home. I lost my passion. I saved the day, I ended the great storybook evil. All the people that live now because of me will forever keep my mind sane. But that one life I had to take to do so, that one life that was so important to me, will forever taunt me from the edges of consciousness. I saved the day, but it cost me, even if it did not cost the world.