The Starlit Wanderer Series – Chapter 4
Lies are like monsters. They take control of the mind slowly, like spies infiltrating a kingdom. When a lie is successful, it buries seeds of fear into the very bones of its victim. Once fear hatches, it rots. That rot turns its victim into someone unrecognisable. They become someone who doesn’t see the moments of beauty, love and joy, but sorrow in its worst forms becomes a comfort. Lifelong memories lose their spark, and darkness takes hold. Lies are like monsters and are easy to spread.
Long ago, Inugela Nyrea sought confidence and a new sense of self, but one unfortunate encounter with a puppet led to hurtful falsehoods. Those lies drove him far away from his path until he wasn’t sure where or who he was anymore. He lay helpless in a storage silo, a month’s journey from where he needed to be. Worse still, his mind was out of control–bubbling in a concoction of his own doubts, and the sharp words of others.
I’m so selfish. He rolled in a bed of packed grain. The bags bore a symbol depicting two face profiles, one black and the other white. It’s so dark. I wonder if morning has come yet, or if I’ve just been lying awake for no reason. He sighed, seeing his deep blue raiment across from him, crumpled. He couldn’t bear to touch it, afraid of the glass pressed flower still in its breast pocket. In the last few days, it had turned from a beautiful gift into a reminder of that unkept promise.
He had been so stupid, abandoning the train the way he did. Runce would have talked it through with him and made everything okay. Oh, how he missed Runce’s wit and understanding. These last few weeks of travel would have been far better for him if he’d stayed–rather than trudging through the dull and cold slopes. What possessed him to run into the mountains on the cusp of winter? What could do him more good than facing his indecision? Well, now he was stuck, never to return to his home nor to his found family. That promise would be forever unfulfilled. His neck burned, as it had done ever since the marionette jabbed him with its needle.
Should have stayed on the mountain. Should never have fallen in love with wandering. Should have just gone back to your family. Should never have agreed to meet up with the Vanguards again. Should have been alone, all along. Should never have accepted that gift. Should have journeyed alone from the start. Should never have let people get to know me. Should have–should never have… should… should…
‘Excuse me.’
‘Woah!’ Inugela rolled aside, tumbled between two sacks of grain and wedged himself between them, good and proper. He struggled and writhed, but couldn’t get free. A hand clasped his, pulling him up with great strength. He dusted his already tattered blue button-up, then sighed. The figure before him was the one who let him stay in this silo the night before–a young half-beast woman by the name of Ankita. Light bled into the storage room. Inugela must have been so lost in his mind that he missed the sound of the rickety door opening.
‘Are you quite alright?’ she asked. She held in her hand a woven bowl that contained a crepe and a dish of milk. Though she appeared mostly human, her nails were long, like talons. The rest of the hands were covered in feathers. ‘Here, I saved some breakfast for you. My family hoped you would join us.’
‘Apologies, Ankita, I… got lost in thought.’ Inugela accepted the bowl. He bowed his head to touch its side, much in the same way he’d seen Ankita do with a meal the night before. ‘I appreciate the food, but you know I can just magically make my own.’
Ankita gave him a dirty look, as if to say, is there something wrong with my food? ‘You should enjoy something real.’
‘Ah, you’re right—real is always better.’ Inugela took his first bite like it determined whether he would live or die. The meal was light, which helped because Inugela did not feel like eating.
‘Grab your things and come for a walk with me. I’d appreciate a new friend’s company.’ Ankita left Inugela to ponder whether he really wanted to leave the safety of the dark silo. Better to move around than do nothing. Collecting his things, he slung his bag over his shoulder and stuffed the glass-pressed flower inside, wrapped in his blue overshirt. He searched the area for more until he remembered he had lost his purple cloak during a storm some days before. What a sorry state to be in. His boots were uncomfortable to walk in, and his trousers had a rip just below the left knee after a distressing incident with a wild buck. I’m falling apart so quickly that even herbivores smell my weakness.
Finally, he stepped into the sunlight, and contrary to his fears that it would burn him alive, it enveloped him with warmth and comfort. This was a good idea. About him lay a vast and open valley, full of fields that had long been gleaned of their crops. Across the fields, people were preparing the ground for its next harvest. Mountains filled the distance on all sides, like a thorny picture frame for the sky. Though it was patchy with grey clouds, light rays broke through the gaps like veils.
Inugela looked to those clouds as they travelled slowly eastward and said, ‘if you see her on your travels, could you tell her I’m sorry?’ He strode after Ankita. She waited among bundled heaps of dry rice straw.
‘You talk to clouds?’ She knelt, pulling up the edge of her earthy red sari to stop it getting dirty. Then, she heaved a bundle over her shoulder the size of a body. She motioned to another pile of straw lying nearby, and then to Inugela.
‘And if I do?’ Inugela finished his morning meal. A little human girl came running and added his bowl to the collection balanced on her head. She smiled politely and ran back towards a large house in the distance.
Inugela lifted the straw over his shoulder. He could handle more than one, easily. Nearby, a human boy tied up one just the right size. He thanked the boy and clasped the bindings, heaving it along.
‘I do not judge. Is it part of your customs as elvish folk to make requests of clouds?’ Ankita smiled at a group of fieldworkers passing by.
‘No, we fey elves have many customs, but that is not one of them.’ Inugela let his eyes fall to his feet, but the gaze of Ankita burrowed into his cheek. ‘Is it customary for you to work dressed in such fine clothing, Ankita?’
‘Yes.’ Ankita hardly flinched. ‘It is customary in Nadaru for the owner of the fields and their heirs to spend the first and last hour of work in the field. As I am next in line to take up the mantle, I am expected to do this.’ Something in Ankita’s posture shifted, drawing Inugela’s attention. She seemed… unsettled. Inugela let the silence linger, carefully choosing his words.
‘You aren’t happy as the heir?’ he asked with a wince, expecting some sort of outburst.
‘Some days, I resent my decision to come home, but deep down, I could never truly hate it.’ Ankita didn‘t seem angry or sad, but resigned.
‘So you were away?’
‘Yes. Originally, it was not by choice, but then I met someone beautiful.’ Ankita’s eyes glazed over.
‘What were they like?’ Inugela asked, no longer sure he could control what came out of his mouth.
‘Like how the moon reflects the sun–but she reflected the world. She showed me silly joys, excitement, danger and a piece of what lies beyond these mountains. She showed me the importance of small moments and how to be grateful for them. I could explore this world with her, but when things became difficult, I ran away. I sought safety here and resumed my duty as the born heiress of this land. Besides that, my people had just gone through a great hardship while I was gone and needed their leaders.’ Ankita led Inugela across a small dirt road and to the back of a half-loaded wooden cart. They threw their straw bundles aboard and made for the next pile of bundles some way off.
‘I think I know about that hardship,’ Inugela said with a hand on his chin. ‘A freak storm ruined the crops directly before harvest, right?’
‘Yes, and it was only thanks to the kindness of people in the government regions of this country that my people can survive until next harvest.’
‘You know, I actually took part in a ball to raise funds for that!’ Something rose in Inugela’s chest. At first, he thought it was pride, but then quickly realised it was pain—the pain of remembering the night he ran away. It gripped him with the kind of feeling like running into someone you’d avoided for a long time.
‘You don’t look so happy about it.’ Ankita led Inugela to a large bale of straw and welcomed him to sit. Instead, he picked it up and slung it back over his shoulder. Better to work than to sit and mope.
‘It was a delightful night, but I did something I regret, in hindsight.’ He saw Ankita’s eyes, trained on him. She clutched another bale and awaited something more from him. ‘It’s a really long explanation. I don’t want to dull your day with my detailed story.’
‘Inugela, we are walking across a field and back with straw in our hands. Your story is already far more interesting in comparison. Go on, tell me from start to finish.’
Inugela ground his heel into the dirt. ‘I lived alone on a mountain in the north, until just a few months ago, called Showdown Peaks. I’d spent ninety years there, studying an artefact hoping to use it to communicate with a being of old, but to no avail.’ Inugela paused, realising he was already going into far too much detail. He tried to focus on what was important. ‘A group of kind strangers showed up at my doorstep–adventurers. The first I met amongst them took me by surprise, and I fell for her.’ He froze, wanting to bite his tongue and make this conversation stop.
‘And what was she like?’ Ankita asked with a mischievous tone. She led Inugela to the cart, and then back to the collection of bales in the field.
‘Honestly? A little crazy,’ he said with a laugh. ‘But not like the typical sort of crazy. I mean, in the way she expressed herself–she led with her heart. The way she loved those around her was spectacular and charming. Within the first day of knowing each other, she made me a gift with a friend’s help.’ Inugela wanted to reveal that disc with the beautiful galaxy orchid, but his hands refused to move for it, like lead in water. In my culture, someone only gives such a gift as a marriage proposal. She didn’t know that, so I just accepted it as a regular gift.’ Inugela clasped his hands together. ‘After that, I joined them, and we became known as the Radiant Vanguards, aspiring heroes of Hopreda’an. We journeyed far and nearly died on many occasions. I even fought a black knight at one point–or, ran away from it, I guess. It was fun and fantastic, but all the while, our friends had caught on to both of our feelings. When they pressed me too often for what I was going to do about it, I popped. The night of that ball came, and we had an unbelievable evening, but by then I’d already decided to go. So, I finally told her how I felt, standing on a cliff’s edge with the lights of the city Fr’ri below us. I told her that I needed to find myself in this world—I needed time. And she was so understanding, so kind about it as I stood there and practically told her that I didn’t want her around right now.’ Inugela realised he was crying, but he didn’t care. Ankita had a hand on his back, nodding every few words.
‘Oh, and after I told her about gifts in my culture, she said that she’d make it a proposal if she could do it over.’ His hands shaky and clammy, Inugela finally accepted Ankita’s offer to sit. ‘So, I travelled.’ He stared at the dry dirt for a while. Why was he suddenly gushing? What changed? ‘Then, even though I had a plan to meet up with her again, I threw it away when I was told that people merely like me for how exotic I look. I don’t know why that got to me so much. It will take me weeks to get back to our meeting place in Fr’ri, and I barely have six days before the agreed date. I lost sight of what my goal was, and even now, I struggle to decide on what I should be doing.’ Then, Inugela finally stopped after this realisation. Did he want to say yes to a life with this girl, or continue his path alone? Both options still had their merits. His neck burned feverishly hot.
‘Say you got there on time, Inugela.’ Ankita leaned over, elbows resting on her knees. ‘What would you say to her?’
‘I, uh… I’m not really sure. After everything, I haven’t decided if I want to respond to her proposal or not.’
‘Why?’
‘What?’
‘Why, Inugela?’ Ankita’s tone twinged with frustration.
‘I don’t know!’
‘Don’t fool yourself,’ Ankita began with an icy stare. Something about what she said had far more reasoning behind it–these words weren’t just for Inugela. ‘Don’t fool yourself into believing you don’t know. If you keep going like that, your chances really will slip by. You’re afraid of committing to something again, after spending so long doing one thing.’ Ankita straightened, swiping gestures as she spoke. ‘If you keep running away like this, then you’ll never understand love. It will become a fantasy that haunts your thoughts and a mystery you will treat like a joke. All the while, you’ll hide the pain that you didn’t have the guts to say yes and deal with the consequences of love head-on. You will keep loving this woman for the rest of your life, and you cannot expect her not to feel it every single day you think of her.’ Ankita’s entire disposition turned to that of a frustrated mother. She shook her head and beckoned. ‘Come, I have something you need.’
Inugela didn’t speak another word. He was in pain. Never had someone’s words rung so true, squashing every insecurity of his with such ease. He wasn’t alone in his situation. Even the heiress of an important household understood. Though it might have looked a little different for Ankita, the choices she had once made were the same.
They arrived at the front of Ankita’s family’s household. Its mud-brick walls surrounded an enormous living space.
‘Wait here with Nani,’ Ankita said before disappearing up a flight of stairs.
‘Nani?’ Inugela looked about. An old woman sat merely meters away from him. ‘Goodness!’ He jumped across the room, landing in a staggered stance and hand on his heavily beating heart.
‘Oho!’ The older woman giggled as she rocked in an armchair. Though her hair was whiter than snow, her back hunched, and her eyes were closed because of the copious amounts of wrinkles on her face, she still held her head as high as she could.
‘My apologies, Nani. I didn’t see you there.’
‘Not to worry,’ she said, still giggling. ‘Don’t get old—scares like that get much worse at my age.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Inugela eagerly awaited Ankita’s return. Surely it couldn’t take that long to find something in this simplistic household. A table set inside the floor lay across the room, along with a small kitchen. Colourful cushions lay strewn about, but that was about it.
‘You seem troubled. Don’t tell me old age scares you?’ she asked with a crooked grin.
‘What? Oh, no. Not my old age.’ Inugela waved away the question like it was an insect to be swatted.
‘Someone else’s, then?’ Her eyebrows raised just enough to reveal her pale eyes.
Damnit! She’s quick. Yes, that was another reason I was afraid to commit to being with Seraphina—she won’t live as long as I will.
‘I found it!’ Ankita finally returned. She pulled Inugela to the front door.
‘It was a pleasure speaking with you, Nani.’ Inugela bowed respectfully.
‘You seem very bright,’ Nani said with a nod. ‘Do not let life squander that.’
Inugela joined Ankita to oversee the expanse of rice and grain fields. Her thumb ran over the surface of a wooden box in her hands.
‘So, what’s this thing?’ Inugela folded his arms behind him.
‘Something I should have used myself, but, well… I think you know what happened.’ She held the box out and gripped its lid, but stopped. ‘Before I show you, what is her name?’
Inugela stopped to think. This would be the first time he’d uttered it since the night of the ball.
‘Her name is Seraphina.’
‘That is a beautiful name.’ Ankita opened the box and revealed an ash wood ring, thin and lovely in its simplicity. ‘This ring is a traditional Nadarian betrothal and marriage ring.’
‘Betrothal and marriage?’
‘Yes. When you place it on her finger, it will recognise only her, and it will wither if somebody else wears it. When a traditional marriage ceremony takes place, officiated by either a Nadarian elder or a druid, the ring blossoms for the rest of its wearer’s life.’ Ankita snapped the box closed and pressed it into Inugela’s hands. ‘I know promises have not been your best friend lately, but please promise me you will not live in regret. Love every moment with her, and with the rest of your friends. No place in this entire world could match that kind of happiness.’
‘I can’t accept this, really… it’s far too precious.’ He frantically tried and failed to give the box back to her.
‘Inugela, promise that you won’t give up.’
‘Uh… I…’ Inugela clutched his head. This all feels so rushed. I can’t just commit without considering the consequences of being with someone who is so differe–
‘Inugela.’ Ankita firmly gripped his shoulder. ‘You are clearly overthinking this again. Do not worry about what might be. You will face many problems, but if you spend your time trying to fix everything now and trying to get yourself into the perfect place, you will talk yourself out of it entirely.’
‘I–you… you’ve got me there.’ Inugela smiled and sighed. No matter what happened, he was going to miss the day he and Seraphina agreed to reunite. If only he could go back to that night, and just stay with her, with everyone.
‘Ankita.’
‘Mm?’
‘Do you ever wish you could go back and be with that person you loved?’ He clasped the box tightly in his hands as a strange comfort washed over him.
‘No.’ Ankita had a sad and forlorn smile painted on her face. ‘It is one of my people’s one hundred sayings of wisdom that one must not disrespect their past selves by wishing for a different choice. I had my reasons, whether they were rational or just fearful. I cannot and would not change them. Those moments are gone. Besides, I have many decisions and moments to make now. I can’t miss them.’
‘That’s quite some wisdom.’ Inugela slowly nodded.
‘You should probably let your cloud friends know that you’re going to be late.’ Ankita pointed to the great clumps of white in the sky.
Inugela laughed. ‘Hello again. Could you let her know that I’m on my way? Tell her I’ll find her, even if it has to be across the world.’ With that, he could have sworn the clouds moved much faster. For the first time in a long time, the burning in his neck faded. The poison was gone.
Something in the air shifted. Though he didn’t know it, Inugela’s new decision–his resolve–was about to be tested.
Green light fizzled into existence as it had done once before over the waters of Iggilith. A bright green ring sprang open—a portal. Wide-eyed, he faced the tear in space and came eye-to-eye with a creature he wished he didn’t recognise. It was small and wore black leather robes with a plague mask, like a raven’s head.
‘Foretell? No, not at all.’ Inugela stepped a little closer.
‘My old employer is long dead, fey elf. You should know that,’ croaked the older voice.
‘Wattabol, right?’ Inugela smiled for a moment, just a moment. ‘I didn’t know you could make portals.’
‘I’m practised in the art. Took a while to get it to lock onto you properly, but here we are.’ Wattabol said with a gurgle in his throat.
‘Do you think I could ask a favour, then? I need to get somewhere.’
‘Sure, just come on through. I need a favour from you, too.’ Wattabol beckoned. ‘Come, come, it won’t be open for much longer.’
Inugela glanced back at Ankita, who shook her head at him.
‘I’ll be alright. We met some time ago in an old mountain–he’s a scientist of sorts.’ Inugela waved his hand. ‘Thank you so much. This has been the happiest day in a long, long time.’ Inugela passed through the ring. He arrived in a cold and dark room. As that happened, the portal snapped shut, locking him in a wide and open cavern. Some engravings and a strange disc lay on one wall, alongside several tunnels leading away.
‘Now,’ Wattabol began, ‘let me ask my favour first.’
A large metal hand gripped Inugela’s shoulder… hard. He slowly turned his head, realising that he had been stupid.
Standing over him, a good few feet taller than him, loomed a being clad entirely in black armour. It had bright red eyes peeking through the helmet covering its head, but no sign of a face. A black broadsword rested in its grip, and a longsword sheathed at its side. Inky smoke seeped between its plates of armour, polluting the air with its poison.
The mannequin told him that someone with a strange black mask and red eyes had sent them. Of course. The only fight he’d run away from in his time as a Radiant Vanguard was against the Black Knight.
‘My request,’ Wattabol cawed. ‘Is that you stay quiet so my friend here can even the score.’