Bound to the Abyss (5 page)

Once inside his room, Ean changed out of his clothes and into something suitable for sleep. He kept a glove on his right hand to block the light, hoping to get a good night's sleep for a change. Although after tonight, he doubted that was possible. A vision of the creature and the sound of the foreman’s scream echoed in his head. But he had survived. Climbing into bed, he heard Zin crawl underneath, bumping the bottom of the bed once or twice.
 

“Quite the adventure, huh?” Ean whispered, trying to calm himself down.

The room was silent for a long time before Zin responded.
 

“You’re still an idiot. Let’s not ever do something that insane again.”

“Agreed.” But deep down, a part of Ean had enjoyed the thrill and the danger. In his mind, tonight had just cemented the fact that he needed to get out of this village and see what else was out there in the world.
 

Luckily for him, although he wouldn’t see it as lucky at first, his opportunity to leave would come very soon.

Chapter 3

A HERO VISITS

Lane never woke up from his wounds and died the next morning with Allie and Cleff by his side. At dusk, the entire village gathered around a funeral pyre in the valley. The Mayor gave a speech first, praising Lane as a standup member of the village. He spoke about his own memories of Lane and Allie together, as well as recounting stories of the two provided by others in the community. Allie stood off to the side, surrounded by both her and Lane’s parents. She smiled occasionally at the tales, but the smiles were short-lived as she often broke down into sobs that shook her entire body. Her family stayed by her side, ready to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder or hold her up when the anguish made her legs weak.
 

Listening from the back of the crowd, Ean became swept up in the stories of their lives. He hadn’t known the two well; he didn’t really know anyone in their small community very well, but for the first time, a small sliver of regret at that fact began to form. Here were two people, clearly in love, that had worn their hearts on their sleeves for all to see. And Ean had missed it. The regret grew to a knot in his stomach. How would he find what Allie and Lane had if he kept himself separate from everyone around him. Isn’t what they had exactly what I want? To have someone understand me completely and still want to be by my side? The regret spread to his chest, seeping into his soul. As the Mayor finally finished his speech and grew quiet, Ean realized that maybe all of the walls he had created to protect himself were starting to isolate him from everyone else. The thought weighed heavily on him as the next part of the funeral began.
 

A few more people were given the chance to speak after the Mayor, just a few of Lane’s closest friends and family, and then the fire was lit. With the sun almost set, the light of the flames covered the crowd in a warm orange glow. Complete silence fell over the crowd as many members of their small community knelt and offered up their silent prayers. Most would be offering their prayers up to Kaz’ren, goddess of the Soul and Afterlife, but it wasn’t uncommon for anyone to pray to their patron god/goddess as well. Ean wouldn’t have been surprised if each of the six gods/goddesses received at least one prayer that day. None of them would receive a prayer from him, though.
 

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in them. With his connection to the Abyss, a place created by the god, Ze’an, he would be a fool to believe that the others did not exist. No, Ean wouldn’t be praying to the gods, BECAUSE they exist. They exist, and do nothing. How often did prayers to the deities go unheard when the fields produced little food? Or when a child died of a sickness that not even the Rottwealth plants could heal? Or when someone’s parents drank too much and ended up almost ruining an entire village? Ean didn’t bother praying to the gods and goddess, because in his mind, they didn’t bother to listen.

Five members of the village guard wouldn’t be giving their prayers either. This very morning, the monster had snatched up a few of the sheep that grazed in the southeast fields, terrifying the two villagers that had been tending them. The description they gave of the monster matched the one Allie had given, making the Mayor finally agree that it was more than a bear that had taken up residence in their valley. The members of the village’s guard were absent, having been placed by the Mayor in a position to the south to keep an eye out for the creature. None of the guards had gotten close enough to try looking in the mine or foreman’s cabin, but the complete lack of any remaining bodies told its own tale. The foreman certainly wouldn’t be receiving the same funeral rites as Lane. As a precaution, the Mayor had declared the entire southern section of their valley off limits, which included the bog. That didn’t exactly sit well with Cleff. Most of the plants they used came from the bog.

When the fire started to die down, the villagers got up and started talking amongst themselves. It was a somber affair, with all of those gathered moving about and talking in small groups to those with whom they were closest. Allie stayed close to the fire, talking to anyone that came over briefly but spent most of her time staring into the flames alone. Ean was alone as well, standing in between various groups of people, not sure what to do. No one was going to come up to speak to him, after all. He could sneak away and get home, maybe spend some time with The Book or just get to bed early, so he would be nice and rested for a change. Even with the bog closed, Cleff was sure to have a variety of chores planned out for him.

Letting out a silent sigh, Ean began to walk in Allie’s direction. She had shown him that small bit of compassion, something that he certainly wasn’t used to other than from Jaslen and Bran. She more than deserved to receive his condolences. Of course, he received dirty looks from other members of the village as he approached her but he ignored them. Let them think what they wanted.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” he said as he reached her. Allie had her back to him, her full attention on the fire. She didn’t respond at first, and Ean was about to turn and leave when she spun around and immediately embraced him.

“Thank you, Ean. Thank you for trying your best to save him.”

Ean felt the blood rush into his cheeks. “Yes, of course. I mean, Cleff did most of the work. I was just there to help.”

“I still appreciate it.” She squeezed him once then pulled away. They both stood there for a few moments in silence until another villager walked over. The man shot Ean a dark look before stepping in between him and Allie. The man probably thought he was saving her from Ean. That was fine. Ean knew the truth.

Turning his back on Allie and the diminishing flame of the funeral pyre, Ean headed home.

***

Eight days after the funeral, word reached the Healer’s home that a man calling himself “Hero” had arrived in the village. The appearance of anyone from outside of their valley was a rare thing in Rottwealth, and so the whole town was abuzz with excitement. Ean heard that the Hero had arrived in the middle of the night and took up lodging in the Mayor’s inn. Ean had wanted to go see this new visitor right away, but of course, Cleff had him performing various chores around the house that took up most of the day.

The old man had been difficult to deal with since the bog had been declared off-limits, his main source of income from the various healing items he could make from the Rottwealth plant and others found there being cut-off. Of course, this meant that Ean took the brunt of the man’s frustration, which in turn meant he was put to work both in menial tasks around the house and had to spend more time studying the intricacies of being a Healer. The studying he didn’t really mind, but there were only so many times you could wash the same set of empty jars.

The sun was already high in the sky by the time Ean was finally set free. Zin had already left earlier in the day. Most days the imp lazed about in Ean’s room or wandered around the village looking for a stray rat to eat, leaving Ean alone for most of the day. When Ean was finally finished with his chores, he left his home and followed the village’s gravel road north past the small amount of open space to where the edge of the village actually began. A collection of a few dozen small wooden homes, Rottwealth village would probably be considered quaint by outsiders. The main gravel road ran north from Cleff’s home and casually curved east as it divided the village in half. Cleff’s two-story home and shop, as well as the inn owned by the Mayor, were the only distinguishable buildings in the village; the rest of the homes looked relatively the same, lining both sides of the street. There were two or three rows of homes on each side, one row behind the other, with the last row on either side almost completely surrounded by farmland. Ean moved down the street as fast as he could, passing the open field of the town square on the right as the road curved and finally reached the end of the village where the inn resided on the left.

The inn, named The Golden Coin by the Mayor’s grandfather, was a large two-story building made of simple stone and wooden planks and painted a light yellow. Two small steps at the entrance led up onto a porch where many of the villagers could often be found, enjoying both a drink and a cool breeze that blew down out of the mountains. The inn was the first building a traveler would see following the road into the village, if the village received visitors. Its large sign depicting a few coins spilling out of a mug was hard to miss.

As Ean approached the large building, he could hear the sounds of merriment coming from inside. The actual appearance of a visitor was such a rarity that it wouldn’t be surprising if many of the villagers had put off work for the day so that they could take a look at a new face. Hopping up the steps, Ean crossed the porch and pushed his way through the swinging doors that led inside.

On the inside, the main entrance opened into the tavern where the Mayor’s wife was most often behind the bar along the far wall. From her central position, she served drinks, directed the servers to the various tables that littered the room, and directed Togh, the inn guard, to remove anyone attempting to catch a nap at a table or cause trouble. A stairwell sat in the back near the bar, leading up to rooms that were never used. Three doorways led out of the main hall: one going back into the kitchen, another leading into where the Mayor and his family lived, and the last being the doorway leading out to the back where patrons could relieve themselves.
 

Just as Ean expected, the tavern section of the inn was overflowing with people. All of the circular tables were full, as were the seats at the bar, with the majority of people crowded around one particular table. Having the advantage of being thin and lanky, Ean moved in and out of the crowd until he was almost right next to the table where he assumed this Hero was sitting. What he found there was certainly not what he expected.

The “Hero” was a large fellow, although not in a muscular sort of way. His size seemed to strain both the chair he was lounging on as well as the one on which his feet were resting. He had short stubby hair, a large nose, and a beard that contained flecks of food and was soaked with ale. His leather armor barely seemed to fit his body, as pieces of fatty skin seemed to poke out at every opening, and his round stomach extended past the bottom. He wore two short swords on either side of his waist and a sheathed knife across his chest. All in all, he looked more like a common thug, a grown up version of Krane, except for a strange sparkling green stone on a necklace that hung around his blubbery neck.

The Hero's name was Lathan Riley. By the time Ean was able to maneuver close enough to hear what was being said, the man was in the middle of a story about how he had faced down five bandits by himself in order to protect a caravan of helpless women. As Ean listened half-heartedly to what he believed to be a vast exaggeration of what probably actually happened, he looked around at the other villagers.

Every face of those gathered around was clearly caught up in the story; their eyes locked on the man, expressions turning to awe as he described the battle and his victory over the bandits, with both the men and women chuckling as he went into detail about how the women of the caravan rewarded him for his efforts. The only expression on Ean’s face was disbelief. All of these people that he had known the majority of his life were looking at this stranger as if he was some kind of king!

“Caught up in the story, too?” said a female voice that Ean instantly recognized as belonging to Jaslen. “It is quite exciting to have an actual Hero here, isn’t it?”

“Uh,” Ean’s tongue froze whenever Jaslen was around. The way her bright red curls fell about her shoulders, in contrast with her forest green eyes, stunned his senses. Come on, Ean. She is one of the few people in this town that’s always been nice to you. Don’t act like an idiot. Heat rose to his cheeks as he pulled himself together. “I…he…the Hero doesn’t seem all that impressive to me, Jaslen.”

Realizing he had stopped talking and was just staring at her, he blushed. “I mean, uh… he barely fits into his armor,” he said, trying to recover. “How is he going to fight something as horrible as the beast looking like that?”

Jaslen laughed in response, the sound happy and full of life. “Oh, Ean, you always look at the negative side of things. So what if he doesn’t look like the way a warrior is expected to look? I, for one, don’t care if he eats the mayor out of house and home as long as he can get rid of the beast. My poor father has been a wreck worrying about his crop. You know our plot is in the area the Mayor has said is off limits. If the Hero kills the beast and Father can get back to work, hopefully there won’t be too much damage to our first harvest this year.”

“Well, of course, that would be great. I wouldn’t want your father to lose the harvest. Maybe I am wrong and this Hero is more than he seems.”

“I hope so,” she replied, turning her attention back to the Hero’s story. “Bran has been talking about trying to take the beast down himself.” Ean wasn’t surprised; any conversation with Jaslen eventually turned into one about Bran. “From the story I’ve heard from poor Allie, I don’t think Bran would have a chance to survive against that creature. A shame, her losing her husband that way.” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around her body. “I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I lost Bran.”