Chapter Three

For the second time in a matter of hours, Stew hurtled into the ground. This time it was not hard packed sand beneath his chubby cheeks. It did get into his clothes though. The Marsh was, in simple terms, wet. Soaking, staining, and stinking. The green algae that floated along the top were turning brown in the cool, freezing as Solari refused to bless them with its rays of light. Mist licked at the top of the water. Winter must have come early this year, Stew reasoned.

The yawning darkness behind Stew remained open. Stew had no doubt that the Warden was waiting on the Otherside. Warden’s expression had not been pleasant as he hurled Stew through the crack one handed. Stew knew this Marsh. He had played here with Jericho, and Hand, many times before. Just over the hill, around the bend, across the stream, through the back of Mad Murdock’s Hops field, a duck under the old fence, turn right at the signpost and he’d be home.

“Found the water!” Stew called over his shoulder at the crack, “Just need to find a pail!”. No reply came. Stew pushed himself up, his bare feet squelching in the mud, and stepped from the water. His wet clothes clung cold as he made his way up the hill. It was dark out, and no stars shined in the sky. Not that this bothered Stew. He could find his way without the stars. “Mr Solari had probably just forgotten to get up this morning, yes, that must be it.” Stew reasoned aloud. Continuing his way beneath the solitary scarlet gleam of the Bad Moon.

He followed the stream until it bent and crossed. Passing through the forest, he climbed up to the back of Mr Murdock’s empty hops field. He’d need to be careful, if any lights came on in the hut in the distance, Mr Murdock would see him. He always did. Stew dropped to his knees and crawled on his belly across the field. Crawling under the old fence, an old wire caught at the back of his shirt.

As he stood it tore with a loud rip that echoed in the misty silence. Stew stayed still, albeit shaking in the cold. No lights came on behind him. No shout of “I see you. I’ll be letting your parents know of this Hand!” in Mr Murdock’s aged and raspy voice. Feeling more than slightly off-put, Stew untangled himself.

Stew padded softly down the dirt lane, watching for the signpost. The crawling had taken a lot out of him, but excitement had begun to burn in its place. He couldn’t wait to see his family again. ‘They should have woken up by now,’ Stew thought, ‘Nothing ever keeps Da down. They’re probably missing me. That’s why Mad Murdock wasn’t home!’ Stew realised.

“They’re all out looking for me.” Stew said with a gasp. He ran down the dirt road, lungs burning. He turned right at the signpost and sprinted down the lane home. It popped into sight as the mist parted. The fire wasn’t burning. No candles were lit. The thatched roof was rotting Stew noticed. “Da’ll need to fix that.” Stew said, pushing away a creeping feeling of dread.

The doorway was warped, the door itself hung stiff at an angle. Stew facepalmed. He’d left it open when the Warden came. Ma was gonna kill him. Stepping through the doorway, he knocked on the lichen covered door. No one responded. Figuring no one was home, he continued inside. Then he saw them, lying there, slumped over their chairs, heads on the tables. The fire had long since burned low, but here they slept. Waiting for him.

Relief flooded Stew. Da and Ma wouldn’t even realise that he’d been missing. Stew brushed past Hand and knelt at the fireplace. The wood was wet, and he didn’t know where the matches were. They weren’t wealthy enough to afford a crystal-lit fireplace like Jericho and Mr Jericho had. His eyes wandered over to Jericho. Even though she was asleep, she looked tired. Her skin wasn’t its usual healthy glow. Stew walked to the door. The Warden wasn’t around, so he had a bit of time, right?

Stew stood in the corner and watched everyone. No one moved in the deathly stillness, and if Stew had looked harder, no one breathed. Slowly, he plucked up his courage and edged his way towards Jericho. Her hair was stiff and stuck, the soup having long since dried. His mother had a nice comb in her room, his father had given it to her as a wedding gift. She wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it, right?

Taking a left at the end of the hallway, he walked into his parent’s room. Atop the small dresser that his Da’s Da’s Da’s Da had built from a horse stable that the Verdetian Mage-Knights had burnt down, was a mirror and a box. Inside the box was his mother’s comb, her wedding ring, and beneath the sawdust, three silver pieces. As was proper. Although, he was sure his Da might have taken one or two to the races on night. Stew picked up the comb and looked into the mirror.

His wet clothes clung to him like the rags the Warden wore.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Moments later he was sitting beside Jericho again, gently combing her hair. Stew had always watched on when Hand combed her hair by the fireplace. The jealousy knotted fierce in his stomach. Now he was the one combing her hair. Not Hand. The jealousy passed. Hair nice and combed, Jericho laid there unmoving. Stew felt disappointed at this. She had always kissed Hand afterwards. Why not him?

Then he spotted her cup. An idea formed in his mind as he walked over to the wine shelf. Reaching for a new bottle, an aged and dusty thing that was from this past harvest, he cracked it opened. It smelled the same as he remembered, and within the light of the Bad Moon, took on a dark purple shade.

He poured some in Jericho’s cup. She wouldn’t mind. Besides a hard day’s work deserves a hard day’s reward, as Da had always said. And the reward for coming Jericho’s hair was a kiss from her. Although, as she was sleeping, an indirect kiss would have to do. For now. He took a swig from her glass.

Warden knocked on the open door, floating casually. “What took you so long?” Stew asked, “I had to walk all the way here from the Marsh left at the signpost under the fence past Murdock’s field across the river following the bend over the hill!” The Warden waved his glaive through Stew, annoyed. “What’s that supposed to do then eh?” Stew said, “I don’t feel a thing.”

The Warden tested the edge against the door, carving a rune. “Oi! Don’t go messing up my house you hear! Especially while they been sleeping. They’ll blame me.” Stew shouted. The Warden looked down at him with painted eyes. Feeling nothing coming from the Warden’s changeless blank stare, Stew huffed. “There’s a couple o’ pails around the side. I’ll grab ‘em. You wait here.”

Stew pushed past the Warden, although if he were paying attention, he walked through him. Stew picked up one pail and walked to the well by the side of the house. He tied the rope as best he could around the pail and lowered it into the water below. It made a splash well before it should have, and Stew stood back shocked. A few days ago, Da was worried they’d be out of water, but here it was more full than Stew’d ever seen it. Stew pulled the pail back up, filled to the brim with clear water.

Stew shivered.

He was beginning to feel the true cold with his wet clothes. Stew turned and came face to face with the silent warden. Stew screamed, high-pitched and terrified.

Later, when recounting his tale, Stew would say it was a manly yawp, or neglect to mention it at all. What he would be pleased to know, although he never would, is that many more powerful and vastly braver than him had done any number of things. These were included, but not limited to; pissing themselves, shitting themselves, pissing and shitting themselves, screaming, loud screaming, cursing the Warden (Ineffective, curses bounce back. Do not try.), and ugly crying.

Stew dropped the pail and spilt the contents everywhere. The droplets hung in the air around the Warden, falling to the ground with a quiet pitter-patter. Stew cursed the Warden. He picked the pail back up and refilled it. The Warden looked down at the water and opened a new crack behind him.

“Wait.” Stew said. He raced back to the house and grabbed the other pail. He then ran to the vineyards, scooping handfuls of soil. “This will help your seed.” Stew said as the Warden silently approached him from behind. They walked together back to the crack. The Warden floated of course.

Stew shivered uncontrollably from the cold as his free hand clutched the metal wire of the other pail. The Warden placed his hand on Stew’s shoulder gently pushing him through the crack. It closed behind them with the sound of lightning striking the earth. Shizzleflam.

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Two hours earlier.

"Head Magus Rosewater the greatest and most powerful of his name." The student began, rushing into the Head Magus bed chambers. He pushed back his Alchemical goggles, two thick pieces of glass entrapped in a hardened leather frame.

"Can't you see that I'm busy?" The Head Magus roared as he pushed away the four very naked women who laid on top of his flabby body. One got caught and was already beginning to pass out as the roll of skin began to consume her. Her fellows began to try and dig her out.

"Yes, Head Magus, but..." The student continued. A sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead.

"BUT?" The Head Magus said. Disturbed by the movements of the women, he rolled over to see what the fuss was about. If he had more than a speck of the magical potential that he pretended to have, he would have seen the Warden. The women began to cry. "Look what you've done. You've upset these three lovely ladies."

"I'm..." The student gulped, realising the ladies were not crying because of him, and that he would need to hire another crew to escort the women from the castle. "Head Magus, a crack has opened. Nearby too."

The Magus rolled his body back over, the body of the missing woman disappeared within a stain of grease. The Warden floated there helplessly, he could not get to the woman's body without first disturbing the Head Magus, and for one of the Eladramiri, that could have unforeseen and disastrous effects. "A crack you say?" The Head Magus said, interested. From the full view of the Magus the Student was receiving, he hoped the women were getting paid well. They were most certainly getting no pleasure from the exercise.

"Yes, Head Magus." The Student said, closing his eyes. Through the thick, smoked glass he was hoping that the Magus would not notice his lack of staring.

"WHY DID YOU COME HERE THEN! SEND THE MAGE-KNIGHTS!" The Head Magus roared, rolling to a stand. The Head Magus whispered something as he caught his breath, and the fat floated. The Student scrambled from the room as a body popped out of the now weightless fat. It was a woman. It was not the one who had gone in moments before. The Warden waved his glaive and disappeared. "Now, my lovely slaves, dress me. I must see the Princess immediately!"