The Starlit Wanderer Series – Chapter 3
A chance to explore the world is a fine gift. However, for most people in Igharias, it is a means of finding home. But how does one find a home amongst the seemingly endless lands that fill the world? In particular, how does one do that in the fantastic country of Hophreda’an?
Inugela Nyrea did not have an answer to that deep and meaningful question, but he knew one thing–don’t live in Soryhi. Though it boasted fantastic views of the sky-scraping earthy wall known as Res Caluth Gudanya to the south, and almost year-round snow, its culture was far from show-stopping.
‘Really, thank you for the offer, but I must be going.’ Crunching through the snowy street at a brisk pace, Inugela made his escape from the nearby general store. He clutched his bag close and dared not look back at the horrendously shifty feline man he’d just finished talking to.
‘Ya sure? Just a slice o’ that skin could make ya thousands,’ the little cat hollered at Inugela from the store’s doorway with a knife in his paw.
‘No thanks, I really my skin on my body.’ Making the first turn he could, Inugela raced down a thin road, then froze. This is no street. At the end of the alleyway, a strange hooded being loomed. Their visible skin glowed a fiery orange, flickering like a candle in the shade.
‘Ah.’ Inugela turned on his heel and slipped back onto the large street in a single motion. ‘Glowing hooded man bad.’ Stranger and stranger folk appeared–even by his standards. Surely, they weren’t all bad. Surely there was someone kindly enough direct him back to the train station.
Then, two figures in aquamarine fibrous armour approached from a nearby street. Their clothing bore a symbol of two face profiles, one jet black and the other a clean white, each offset by the circle surrounding them that had opposing shades on each side–the symbol of official Hophreda’anian soldiers. One, a hippopotamus person, or trotus, took notice of Inugela’s exasperated disposition.
‘You alright, young man?’ she asked with a snort.
‘Well… uh… you–I–I just need directions to the train place–thing… station.’ Inugela took a few deep breaths. His heart thumped so loudly, he could swear the other guard noticed its racket.
‘Just keep following this street, and it’s at the end of the third left.’ The guard gestured in the general direction of her instructions.
Inugela thanked her profusely before making his escape down the road. Then, he thought it wise to throw one last call over his shoulder. ‘Also, that felus man running that general store over there tried to get me to sell my skin!’ And with that bit of business taken care of, he ran. He didn’t concern himself much with whether the guards cared about that information. Honestly, it was probably normal around these parts.
That aside, what was he thinking? He knew better than to leave the train to shop at Soryhi. He’d already been here a few weeks before, directly after the gliding incident in Iggilith. That shopping trip nearly landed him directly in an illegal fighting ring.
Stop overthinking it. Your journey is more than half over already, and you still don’t feel ready to respond to her. Get it together. His eyes clouded over with thoughts like someone shoving a pie into his face.
A loud whistle drew his vision back, and a shout caught his attention. A man in a conductor’s uniform and cap waited in front of the train station, arms crossed and foot tapping the snow.
Inugela lowered his head, realising that he was already more than five minutes late for the train. The conductor, Runce, didn’t enjoy being late by even a second.
‘You’re lucky we’re friends,’ Runce said, clicking his tongue.
‘I know.’ Inugela groaned as he fixed his bag to his side. ‘You could’ve just abandoned me here.’ He followed the conductor into the station and onto the platform.
‘I know.’ Runce turned, held a hand out for Inugela’s ticket, clipped it with a punch, and then allowed the man to step aboard.
‘If the train made something like smoke signals, I think I’d remember more easily,’ Inugela hummed as Runce shut the door behind them.
‘And the ten-minute reminder whistle isn’t good enough?’ Runce slapped Inugela on the back, grinning. ‘I’ll come back and see you later.’ He passed through the door leading to the main engine.
Inugela quickly wound his way to a seat and drew his bag onto his lap.
The train whistled its mighty tune, and the cars jolted. The famous Sunny Tracker dragged its cargo of people along. Soryhi bowed out of sight, taking its snow-topped roofs and shady people with it. With that, Inugela sank into his seat. It was peaceful, being the only one in the car.
An hour passed before Inugela moved into a more populated part of the train. A tapping noise rattled the rooftop. Maybe it was just a loose rock or a bird that chose the wrong place to perch. Either way, Inugela was more interested in finding himself a comfortable seat in the dining car, located a few cars away.
After a staggered journey past little bedrooms, rows upon rows of seating and the odd latrine, Inugela entered a car that felt much wider than the others. Lovely red leather seats lay on his left, lining the wall with dining booths. Folks sat together, eating and drinking, taking in the snowy landscape. To the right lay a thin wooden desk, a bar, blocking access to shelves upon shelves of alcohol and other less popular drinks.
‘Heya sweet’art,’ hollered a dwarven man from behind the bar. He wore a white frilly top cinched under a tight-fitting apron. Thankfully, his ginger beard and long hair covered most of the gaps in the revealing outfit. He fluttered his long eyelashes so fast that Inugela felt the breeze.
‘Hello Ginger.’ Inugela found a seat on one of the small stools by the bar.
‘Need a drink, daul?’ Ginger asked, placing a hairless arm down on the bar.
‘No thanks, maybe just my things.’ Inugela did his best to avoid looking at the inappropriate tattoos on that same arm. Ginger seemed to notice the discomfort, rolling that sleeve down.
‘Ya coulda just locked it in ya room, y’know.’
‘I know, but I trust the living more than a dead metal door.’ Inugela shrugged. Ginger wiped his hands on his floral apron and fished some things out from beneath the bar. He gently laid them down and gestured for Inugela to take them.
Inugela picked up a small drawstring bag containing his glass-pressed flower and carefully slipped it back into his inner breast pocket. His hand lingered over that pocket for a few moments before he picked up his next most important belonging–a sword. Different textured steel surfaces covered the hilt of the finely crafted sword, giving it a look like a jigsaw puzzle of various artisans’ works. The casing itself had a simple design with a single star near its mouth. Inugela stared into that star, feelings of discontent poisoning the back of his mind like a spreading fire. He affixed the blade to his hip. Then, he lifted a small wooden medallion. He rubbed his fingers over the hand-carved image of a lion, smiling like a gleeful child. Finally, he picked up a silver bracer—its intricate floral patterns appeared to be an elvish design.
‘This isn’t mine.’ He held the bracer up to his eye, looking at Ginger through it like a telescope.
‘Been in lost property for weeks, sweet’art, so I thought ya might like it. Looks all historical ‘n’ that, but doesn’t have a twin.’ Ginger swept a cloth across the desk, accepted a drink request from a patron, then returned.
Meanwhile, Inugela investigated the bracer. It seemed high value, but there wasn’t a single mark to signify its maker.
‘Are you sure about this? You could probably make at least a hundred off it.’
‘Nah, money ain’t what I’m ‘ere for, daulin’. I like meetin’ people more than anythin’,’ Ginger said with a wink.
‘Well, thank you.’ Wearing the bracer right now felt strange, so Inugela dropped it into his shoulder bag. Is that a new colour of eyeshadow? Red looks good on you.’
‘Aw, thank ya, daul.’
A door slammed from the front end of the car, and Runce finally entered the room, making his way to Inugela’s side.
‘Alright, that’s enough flirtin’ with my barmaid,’ he said with a chuckle.
‘Hey now.’ Ginger waved a finger at the conductor. ‘You know I ‘ave my type.’
‘Oh, that’s right, you like criminals.’ Runce stuck his tongue out and chuckled.
‘That was one time.’ Ginger rolled his eyes. He rolled a drink cart from beside the bar and pushed it through to the next room. That was a telltale sign of guilt.
Inugela looked through his things, hoping Runce would come up with a conversation topic. Runce watched on with a raised eyebrow, tilting his cap back to reveal orange hair–what was with this train and everybody having orange hair?
‘So, why did you go into Soryhi without a weapon?’ Runce finally asked.
Inugela automatically felt for his blade’s hilt. He shrugged. ‘I think it was safer to go without a pretty and magical sword–fewer chances of someone challenging me to a fight.’
‘And what do you do if someone does?’
‘I mean, well, I run. If things get really bad I’ll just use my nature magic to hold them back.’ Inugela raised a hand, and it glowed faintly green, to make his point.
‘See, it’s handy that my magic works through a gun. People are always careful when they see a man with a gun.’ Runce put a finger on the weapon’s grip, rattling it about.
Inugela grimaced at the golden weapon, as he didn’t quite like the idea of walking about with a loaded firearm. His mind trailed off into thoughts of himself running about town with a black coat, massive hat and a belt full of guns slung across his chest. Or maybe it would make more sense on a ship.
‘Inu, where’d you go?’ Runce waved a hand about, scowling.
‘Sorry.’ Inugela blinked until his mind cleared of all thoughts of him being a pirate on the high seas.
‘You thinking about your friends again?’
‘Uh, yeah,’ Inugela fibbed. Now that Runce mentioned it, how were the rest of the Vanguards doing? They were probably waist-deep in some grand adventure, without him. It was my choice to be here, anyway. I’m the whole reason I can’t see them right now—see her right now.
Runce grabbed Inugela’s shoulder and shook him hard. ‘I know that self-deprecating face anywhere.’
‘Sorry.’ Inugela’s shoulders slackened, and some of his hair fell over his eyes like a silver veil. Runce might have snapped him out of it, but the damage was already done. Inugela should never have run away in the first place.
‘Don’t apologise to me.’ Runce sighed, leaning on the counter and throwing his head sideways. His gaze cut through Inugela for a good long while, like it was feeling around for something. ‘You really need to find your own resolve.’
‘What?’
Runce clenched both of his fists. He strained a smile and said, ‘your resolve means your decision. Once you have that, almost nothing can bring you down.’
Inugela had really messed up. Sadness fell upon him like a heavy blanket, as more of the confusion and indecision took hold of his mind. He managed to muster a single question before slumping onto the benchtop. ‘What’s your resolve?’
‘I thought you might’ve guessed by now.’ Runce tapped his boot against the train floor. ‘To make this world feel a little smaller, so my daughter can go anywhere without fear. The more people I safely transport on this train, the stronger the connections in this world become. That’s what I’ve resolved to do, and what I consider love to be. She may not see me doin’ it, but my little girl will know a world that is open to her, and I’ll rest well knowin’ that I made it happen.’ Runce’s eyes welled with joyful tears.
‘What about your wife–Elesa?’ Inugela sat upright again.
‘She agrees with this. We met on this train a long time ago, and she helped me find my resolve when life felt dry.’ Runce stared longingly out at the views of white beyond the windows. He fiddled with the collar of his uniform, that genuine joyful expression never leaving his face.
‘So you didn’t find it on your own?’ Inugela frowned. His own confusion might just drive him mad.
‘Yes and no. Sometimes you just have to trust your feelings, rather than overthink it. I knew a relationship would be hard, as I didn’t have a home other than this train, but I married Elesa anyway. Through choosing to trust her over my head telling me no, I gained a home. Now, I have the happiest life a free spirit like me could find.’
There was again. That same notion of freedom drove Olive. Such an unusually happy home arrangement seemed fictional.
‘You’re an inspiration,’ Inugela said suddenly. He wasn’t sure he’d thought about the words properly before they came out, but there they were. ‘I’m struggling with finding a home, and it’s nice to see that even complicated situations have a solution.’
‘My suggestion,’ Runce said with a tip of his cap. ‘When you get stuck on it, try ignoring your head—less thoughts will clutter your heart.’
Inugela laughed. That had to be some of the best wisdom he had ever heard. Gratitude warmed his thoughts as the rest of his worry almost washed away… almost.
Then, both men froze.
Something clattered on the roof of the car. Footfall.
‘Another day…’ Runce rolled his eyes, standing to face the door.
‘Another robber?’ Inugela leapt to his feet, listening for that noise.
‘Something like that.’ Runce placed a hand on his gun, but Inugela shook his head.
I’ll handle this one for you. Inugela mouthed. Runce cocked his head curiously, then smiled and leaned on the counter. Inugela made for the door with careful footing, as the clanging moved off the car roof and down towards the same door. A face appeared in the tiny window, the roughened face of a bald porcelain figure–a marionette? The living doll slammed the door open, causing a billowing gust of wind to fill the car. People panicked, but Runce hushed them with a gesture of his hand.
The marionette had no clothing, just a pure white body with a belt bag strapped to it. The painted mouth, eyes and nose of the creature didn’t move, but it had a silky voice that carried slowly, like driftwood aimlessly floating in the ocean.
‘Fey elf?’ it asked.
‘Maybe?’ Inugela said with a cocked head. ‘Who’s asking?’ He fumbled for his sword as the doll raised a white hand. Having met only a friendly one of these in his lifetime, Inugela wasn’t sure if they could be hostile. He knew that these creatures usually served a maker, so it surely wasn’t alone.
‘I am clearly asking.’ The head of the being rattled as if to recreate a scoff. ‘I must take you away from this train. Immediately.’
Inugela shook his head, drawing his blade. He performed a flourish, whipping the air with steel. He gestured back to the door and said, ‘allow me a favour–let’s take this outside.’
‘As you wish.’ The marionette stepped backwards through the door and climbed back up to the roof with twisted limbs like a mantis. It seized the doorframe, then flipped its feet over its head to land them on the rooftop.
A hand grabbed Inugela’s shoulder.
‘Inu, I’ll help,’ Runce said.
‘No.’ Inugela brushed the hand off and stepped through the door and to the platform between the cars. ‘It’s here for me, so I should deal with it.’ He gripped a bar ladder, then hoisted himself onto the shaky roof of the car.
Frosted mountains and snow-capped trees whisked by as a blanket of cloud peppered snowfall upon the puppet and fey elf. Inugela dared not move to his side, as the top of the car sloped off to each edge. He wasted no time in taking up his stance, laying the flat of his blade over his left arm. The marionette followed suit, lowering itself and raising its fists.
Inugela charged, determined to end things swiftly. He plunged his blade toward the creature, but it struck the blade off to the side, then swung its elbow into his forehead. Inugela lost his footing and slid onto his side. The train’s momentum sent him rolling to the back edge. He gripped a thin rail as his legs dropped off the back of the car. Inugela quickly threw himself back onto his feet, but not before another heavy blow struck his gut. This doll wasn’t messing about. The marionette stomped on Inugela’s sword, as he struggled to keep his grip. The pale being used the footing to leap up and knee Inugela in the face, but it wasn’t quick enough. Inugela released his blade for a moment, blocking the porcelain knee from striking his cheek, then threw the creature back. He swiped his sword back up.
‘You’re quick,’ the creature hummed like a wind chime.
‘Of course.’ Inugela made his next move while it was on the back foot. I just have to get it to stay still. He flourished his blade, then gestured with his open left hand. Green energy glowed from his palm, and he ran his hand along the flat of his weapon. The energy transferred to the blade as he said, ‘ensnare my foe,’ with a great shout. He deflected two more punches before driving his blade home. The strike scarcely cut the doll, scratching its side. The marionette battered the weapon aside and struck Inugela across his head.
Inugela staggered back, desperate to keep his footing. He couldn’t tell how close he was to the edge of the car. Looking away meant giving this creature a free hit. He did, however, find it in himself to smile.
‘Just a scratch is all it takes.’ With those words, Inugela’s magic took shape. Small worm-like vines burst from the tiny scrape in the mannequin’s side and coiled themselves around its body. The vines grew and thickened until they completely enveloped their victim’s legs and most of its torso. Tiny thorns sprouted from the vines, like flowers in bloom, and jammed into the doll’s body. Finally, Inugela could get information from this thing.
‘Your magic is but naught.’ The doll twisted itself, contorting its body. It strained and pulled, trying to break free.
‘Don’t move!’ Inugela swung his blade into the mannequin’s side, wedging it between two joints in its hip. The creature continued to struggle, despite the pain it must have felt by now. The doll twisted its arms, tearing several vines from its body, and the remaining vines slackened at its feet.
‘Your magic is a gimmick.’ It retook its fighting stance. ‘Strength is in a fighter’s skill, not their cheap tricks.’
‘Alright.’ Inugela held his blade out, and made two swipes at the creature, then two more as it bent and twisted to dodge each one. Inugela moved closer, pushing it back until it reached the front of the car. As it teetered above the blur of rails and snow below, Inugela pressed his blade to its throat, arm outstretched so it couldn’t easily get into his space again.
‘There’s your skill. Now, where’s your maker?’ Inugela wedged his blade into the joint between its neck and head.
‘My maker is long gone.’
‘Well, who sent you?’ Inugela twisted the blade, scratching some of the paint off the porcelain, but the creature seemed hardly worried.
‘My benefactor did not state their name, nor their wishes, though I’d assume they want you for that form, as it defines your kind.’ You’re quite collectable.’
Inugela grimaced at the creature, disgusted by its icy tone. Who would create such an emotionless thing? Better yet, who would employ it to hunt him down? Surely the felis fellow at the Soryhi store wasn’t that desperate for some pretty skin. Inugela readjusted his footing, maintaining unfaltering eye contact with the marionette.
‘I can’t change my form, so I’m really not collectible. That aside, what did your employer look like?’
‘No more questions. I have a mission to complete.’
‘No.’ Inugela pressed the blade further in, making it difficult for the creature to move its head. ‘Answer me, or I’ll push you between the cars. That’ll surely complete your mission very quickly.’ While his poker face remained stern, he wrestled internally with his choice of gruesome words–he sounded a lot like Sythyra, a friend whose antics he wouldn’t dare copy.
‘All I saw of them was that helmet, black with red eyes glowing inside.’
‘Like a black knight?’ Inugela snapped. Surely not, he’s trapped.
The marionette grabbed hold of the blade. It pushed back against Inugela. The sound of steel scraping against porcelain joined the whistle of the train. Inugela faltered for a moment too long, and his opponent escaped the point of his blade. The marionette struck his side. He slipped. A bar tripped him, sending him rolling into open air.
Inugela spiralled out of control—diving as he had in Iggilith. However, he didn’t have a glider this time. The white ground came up to meet him. He thumped into the snow. Rolling just a few meters, he leapt upright. He was sore, but steady. The train’s carriages whirred by like a speeding city wall.
The marionette leapt from the train, hands outstretched, and head tilted to one side. It landed in the snow, drawing a glass needle from its belt bag. The needle sloshed with brackish liquid inside. Inugela’s assailant struck him in the neck before he had even thought about landing a blow. Liquid drained into Inugela’s skin. His entire neck burned, but not enough to throw Inugela off. The puppet made its last mistake–talking.
‘You are nothing special. We aren’t so different. People just like looking at us and using us. Surrender and come with me to my employer. At least you’ll know how they really feel about you, and not have to find that out slowly from a so-called friend.’
Inugela couldn’t hear a thing after that–not the sound of his own shouting, not the clattering of wheels as the train passed by nor the sound like smashing tableware as he pushed the marionette between the heavy cars. White noise, like a distant ringing, overcame his mind, and the sudden realisation of what he’d done came to him. The last train car passed. Pieces of the doll littered the track.
The train slowed to a stop, blowing its whistle long and loud. Inugela heard the whistle, saw Runce beckoning to him from the engine, but did not board the train again.
Inugela Nyrea did not board that train for a very long time after that.
The mountains to the east looked welcoming enough. People lived out there, simple folk with no connections to the government-controlled regions of Hophreda’an. Then Inugela walked as far as his feet could take him. What he didn’t expect, however, was how far his mind took him.
Can I change and find friends? No, wait, I already have friends—the Radiant Vanguards. They like me for more than what I am–like family. Do they really? No… what am I here for again? Why am I travelling? I’m doing this for myself, aren’t I? How selfish. What was the point of all this? I hurt her—the girl who loved me. I hurt Seraphina.