Pagewalker (19 page)

This luchorpán village thrived off its
coastal economy: their dock, port, and trade vessels composed their
trinity of great possessions, unimpressive as they were. I could
see the town from my birds eyes view as I flew over it and back to
the starting point I was at to start. I felt that Instilled with
both Mischief and modesty, the luchorpán were more than content
with what little they had. The trade routes and treaties with the
neighbouring town Kendor and the oversees Renir provided all the
commodities they couldn’t produce themselves, and the fish they
exported were considered luxurious by their trade partners. This
one commodity aside, the luchorpán weren’t much for elegant cloth
or kingly homes, and other civilizations often took note of their
“poor” way of life, which the luchorpán perceived as a “peaceful”
way. However peace cannot last forever.

At the fall of the evening sun, three
luchorpán companions met at the village centre to, as usual, embark
on a regular, and usually, uneventful adventure. Out where the
moonlight danced through openings in the thick forestry, in a
clearing known only to them, the three friends danced gaily in a
circle, laughing and trading stories with one another. They needed
not to build a fire for the fireflies in the forest joined them.
Swirling into the form of a Luchorpán the fireflies danced with
them as a fourth member. It had been a bonding ritual of them,
their personal way of maintaining inner peace. You see, Luchorpán
did not fight. Violence was seen as a weakness in conflict.
Disagreements were settled with words and softened hearts. The
Luchorpán truly understood community. They knew it was to be seen
as solid vines and each Luchorpán was only a branch from that vine.
Together achievements were more valuable. No one held sway over
another. The Elders in each Luchorpán village acted as advisors,
due to their experience. They were not leaders. Every decision was
joint, democratic and agreed upon before enforced. Vary rarely were
there differences in opinion as the Luchorpán were a people of
equal mind. This evening however the ritual was abruptly
interrupted.

Their frolic broke with an unexpected tremor.
The ground beneath them shook, leaves fell from the trees above and
the fireflies, who were in the form of a fourth Luchorpán quickly
dispersed, plunging the surroundings into a deep blue darkness.
Only fading moonlight lit the small clearing they were in. The
three fell ungracefully to the ground. The largest of the friends
was a Luchorpán named Garret. Something about him glowed, he
resembled Abe in a way I can only describe as cloned. I could tell
that he was revered by most Luchorpán simply for his stature. His
father was a founder and Elder but Garret was a leader. He was
stronger so caught more fish, he was taller and could reach higher
to mend roves and sails. His legs were longer so he ran faster and
caught more rabbits in the woods but his mind was sharper. Sharper
than any fish hook, arrow head or butcher’s knife. He was often the
talk of the Luchorpán because he ventured out of the forest often,
always bringing new and exotic trinkets home with him. Garret stood
up, pointed their attention to the stream that cut through the
clearing. The water began to rush away, sinking down into the
earth, simultaneously with its widening. At first, Garret marvelled
at the phenomenon, that nature would bless them with a widening
river. But reality soon sunk in. The water there disappeared
completely, swallowed by the earth, and revealed a great rupture in
the very earth. Moonlight danced off the glistening earth, drawing
Garret ever closer to the phenomenon. His friends warned him
against drawing too near, but Garret would not have their warnings
undue his well-earned reputation. Unassuming and roguish, his
bravery was without parallel. And though it was that very same
bravery that drew his friends to him, he often found himself in
peculiar situations. Over them, the splitting earth surely took
rank.

Though not so brave as their friend Garret,
the fallen luchorpán knew nothing of threat or danger and could not
justify fleeing the scene. Together with Garret, they observed the
depth of the hole. The echoes of water cascading down the fissure
found their ears, but their eyes found only darkness.

“Shh,” Garret warned, signalling his friends
to step away from the fissure. “Who’s there?” he demanded, quickly
turning on his heels.

From the shrubs on the perimeter of the
clearing, a figure emerged, body fully obscured by a long, hooded
robe.

“You’re not from around here, are you? Tell
me, what brings you here, traveller?” called Garret.

The figure was hesitant at first but stepped
forward as a sign of good will. His legs trembled as with fear and
his head turned discreetly from one direction to the opposite,
observing. I Immediately recognised the person talking. It was the
mad man I had met on the top of the cliff by the standing stone I
rested by. He was much younger here. We wore a similar robe. His
face was healthy and full, unlike the gaunt skinny and dirty face
that I had seen before. He stood tall also, not crouched and
weak.

“My name is Oisin. I am a travelling—” He
took a quick glance behind him. I felt as though he was looking
directly at me but I wouldn’t even appear as a ghost to them. I was
simply an observer. “A travelling bard. I’m a bard. I seem to have
lost my way.”

“Ah,” Garret nodded. “From where do you
hail?”

“I call no place home. You see, I am always
on my feet. But these parts of Northland are foreign to me.”

“As they are too many. And what strange dress
do you wear? That is, for a bard.”

“Then perhaps human bards are as unfamiliar
to your kind as these woodlands are to mine.”

“Or perhaps you’re no bard at all?” Garret
narrowed his eyes. A keen sense of deceit made effective his
mischief, and he’d be damned to find himself conned into the lies
of a stranger who employed the very same guile.

“Are all of your kind so lacking in manners,”
the human snapped, “that simple courtesies can’t be extended to
lost travellers?” He checked behind him again then stepped forward
aggressively.

Garret flinched at the man’s tone. Suspicious
or not, the man was correct. The luchorpán way did not permit his
open expression of doubt. “I apologize, good sir. Perhaps it is
best we part ways here.”

“Perhaps,” the bard muttered, turning his
back to the group.

Garret ushered his people in the opposite
direction, bidding they return to the village where it was safe. In
the meantime, he hoped to do some personal investigating. Something
about the proclaimed bard struck him, and he’d not walk away from
what seemed the prologue to adventure. From behind dense foliage,
he observed the man search the surrounding area for kindling. He
gathered it all at the clearing, seating himself at the edge of the
fissure. He held the dry branches an arm’s length away and brought
his other hand forward, snapping at the tip of the wood. Two
visible sparks shot from the kindling, then the whole tip of the
piece burst into flame. Garret fell back at the surprise. Leaves
rustled below.

“Now that you’ve made a fool of yourself, you
can come out of hiding.”

Garret stumbled to his feet, pushing back
just enough foliage to peek his head through. Oisin’s eyes locked
on to his own. He produced a satchel and threw it on the ground
adjacent him, never taking his eyes from Garret.

“Come.”

The luchorpán’s interest was piqued. He might
have been wrong to have suspected the bard of any trickery. More at
ease, he approached the bard, kneeling on the opposite side of the
satchel but focused completely on the kindling. “I’ve heard that
tricks like that were possible, but I’ve never seen it in
person.”

Oisin laughed. “These are no tricks!
Techniques is a much better word.”

“Techniques, then. What’s in the bag?”

“See for yourself.” Oisin pushed the satchel
closer. “You didn’t leave with your friends, so I trust I can
confide a story or two. In my line of work, I don’t get too many
such opportunities.”

“I thought you were a bard?” Garret peeked
into the bag but quickly dropped it at the discovery of its
contents. “You’re a thief!”

“You say it so reprehensibly, but I know
you’re no different than I. You’ve done your share of
wrongdoing.”

Garret looked down at his feet. “How did you
manage to get all this loot?”

“Short answer: I’m the best there is. Stay a
while. I’m sure you’d like to hear the stories.”

Despite everything that told him to return to
the village and forget having ever encountering the thief,
curiosity took its hold over the luchorpán. He drew closer to the
flame, made himself comfortable, and opened his ears for the human
to share his stories. One by one, the man named Oisin removed an
item from the bag and began a marvellous tale about how he came to
learn of it and the stealth tactics he employed to acquire it. Some
of his adventures included near-captures and collateral damage, but
every time, the thief managed to procure yet another valuable ware
with his life. For several hours, Garret listened attentively to
Oisin’s stories. Once the last item had its tale told, he felt
comfortable enough to reveal stories of his own, and while they
weren’t of the fantastical nature of his acquaintance’s, Oisin
laughed and complimented his cunning.

“Indeed, there are many misplaced possessions
lying around. We’re all too comfortable to care. Many of us carry
our entire worth with us in jewel. Our comfort comes from knowing
that no one will steal from us.”

“But all those riches,” Oisin sighed, “seem
to be going to waste on people who don’t know their value.”

“Until I saw the very same jewels in your bag
and heard the lengths you went to get them, I thought our
possessions were little myself. We never had anything to compare it
to. The luchorpán have always been considered poor by
foreigners.”

“Yet you’re bristling with wealth! And think
of how much more you could have.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Oisin grinned mischievously. “If I can
believe the stories you’ve told me tonight, then you have the
makings of a successful thief. Such a nonchalant and carefree
people would never notice or care that anything was missing.”

“I’m sorry, I think you misunderstand.”
Garret’s apprehension was beginning to return. He couldn’t imagine
committing such an act against his own kind, luchorpán who
implicitly trusted him. “I could never do something like that.”

“Even now that you know what their
possessions are worth? Think about it. For someone as small as you,
the deed would be simple. Not that I won’t help you – and we can
split it all down the middle.”

Garret thought on it a moment longer.
“That’ll never work. They keep their jewels too close to them. The
jewels practically define who we are. I can’t imagine that any of
my people would part with them unless under threat of death. They’d
have to be lured and trapped, deceived.”

Oisin quickly burst out. “And that’s your
speciality! Mine is thieving and yours is trickery. How can you not
see this? We’d make an unstoppable team. Tell me more about your
people. What gets their attention?”

Something about Oisin drew Garret to him.
Perhaps it was their kinship or the way the thief spoke, but there
was certainly something contagious there, and that anonymous
something drove the luchorpán to believe his alliance with the
foreigner just might produce the kind of thrill he’d always sought.
“You could lure them with a trail of coins. They’d follow to the
last piece of coin and we could have a trap waiting for them there.
A cage or something of the sort should work. Here – we could
fashion it from branches. If entrapment doesn’t coax them into
surrendering their possessions, a convincing threat will.”

“I knew I could trust you with this,” Oisin
laughed, pushing his hands closer to the flame.

“The only question is whether or not you have
enough coin to set this trap. We have to lure them far enough from
the village that no one can hear if they call for help.”

“Of course I have enough! Two bags full of
coin!”

“I’m confident, then. My plan –
our
plan – will work.”

The luchorpán village enjoyed quietude in the
days that followed; Garrett, enamored by the plotting of his
friend, dedicated himself entirely to the pursuit, utilizing his
time to collect and deliver supplies for their trap. “If I take too
much all in a hurry,” he had explained to Oisin, “their suspicions
will be aroused. Instead, we draw out the plan and make sure
nothing seems out of place.” Garrett’s rational for the extended
preparatory period also doubled as a means for him to vet potential
targets. It was well known in the village that naivety ran thicker
in some than others, and Garrett didn’t want to risk coming upon
one of the more able-minded. Seven days brought an end to the
process.

Garrett loomed over his accomplice, observing
awe-struck as the final touches concealed the underlying mechanism.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Oh, never like this. This is…too well
dressed for my tastes.”

At the thief’s admission of such, Garrett
allowed himself another look at the cage. It scarcely resembled
one, any bars or gates well hidden from sight. From the outside,
even Garrett suspected the construct as little more than a portable
dwelling. Even knowing that it served a more devious purpose, he
found comfort in the thought of laying his head to rest there.

“Garrett!” Oisin’s voice snapped the
luchorpán from its contemplation. Garrett nodded, bounding off from
the forest with a handful of riches. On his retreat to the village,
he adorned his feet with glimmering jewels of varied shape and
color, giving no concern to the peculiarity of their arrangement –
the lack of a pattern would benefit the tale he’d contrived. By
time the last of the bait coins had been placed, night covered the
land. He lingered on the edges of the forest, excitedly prowling in
the darkness as he anticipated the sunrise, and once sun did rise
and his people were out and about, he burst through the foliage,
waving two hands full of coin.