Previous Chapter – Wisdom in a Uniform
The Starlit Wanderer Series — Part Three
Everything can be scary. When a mind has succumbed to a lie, it allows that lie to take control. No longer does that person own their thoughts or actions, nor do their choices reflect their character. Once those changes have made life difficult, fear works its way into the very bones of that person. Fear is deadly, it rots and opens its victim to more lies, taking their confidence away until their days are spent doing something very wrong. Worst of all, fear is a thief. A thief that steals away moments. Moments of beauty and joy, love and sorrow or moments that could be memories for a lifetime.
Long ago, Inugela Nyrea sought confidence and a strong sense of self, but thanks to one unfortunate encounter with a being who spouted hurtful falsities, and his own irrational actions, he lay helpless in storage silo, a month’s worth of travel from where he should have been at that time. Worse still, his mind was immeasurably distant from him–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 grains, the bags sported that twin faced symbol of Hophreda’an’s government. 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 crumpled by him. He couldn’t bare to touch it, in fear of feeling what still waited in that breast pocket, or was he more afraid of what it symbolised–an unkept promise? How stupid he had been, wandering away from the train like that. Runce would have talked it through with him, and made everything okay. Oh, how he missed Runce’s wisdom, his wit and understanding. These last few weeks of travel would have been far more exciting 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 possibly 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.
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, tumbling between two sacks of grain and wedging himself between them, good and proper. He struggled and pulled, but couldn’t get free. A hand suddenly clasped his, pulling him up with great strength. He righted himself, habitually dusted his already tattered blue button up, then sighed. He realised that the figure before him was the same person who allowed him to stay in this very silo the night before–a young half-blood woman by the name of Ankita. Light bled in from the open front door of the storage room, making Inugela wonder how he could have missed her entry.
‘Are you quite alright?’ she asked with her free hand on her hip. The other held a woven bowl that contained some form of crepe, and a little 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 of my family’s breakfast for you. We were hoping you would join us.’
‘Apologies, Ankita, I got lost in thought.’ Inugela accepted the bowl, and 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? ‘How about you enjoy something real.’
‘Ah, you’re right, real is always better.’ Inugela took his first bite very quickly, sighing as he relished the lightness of the meal.
‘Grab your things and come for a walk with me. I’d appreciate a new friend’s company.’ Ankita beckoned as she made for the door. She left Inugela to ponder whether he really wanted to leave the safety of the dark silo, but he eventually collected his things, slinging his bag over his shoulder and stuffing his favourite blue overshirt inside, along with its contents. He found himself unsure if he had everything, then remembered there was that purple cloak he’d lost during a storm some days ago. He laughed at himself, staring coldly at his own poor state. His boots hurt to walk in, and his trousers had a rip torn just below the left knee after a distressing incident with a wild buck. I’m falling apart so quickly that even my clothes are in ruin.
Finally, he stepped into the sunlight, and contrary to his fears of it burning him alive, it embraced him with warmth and comfort. This was a good idea. About him lay a vast and open valley, full of fields that had been long gleaned of their crops. People were scattered across the fields, 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, the sky still hung the sun in the right place to let its rays shine down.
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?’ Then, he strode after Ankita. The woman stopped amongst a large collection of dry rice straw, lying tied in a heap.
‘You talk to clouds?’ She knelt down, pulling up the edge of her earthy red sari to stop it getting dirty. Then, she heaved the straw over her shoulder, which looked like she was carrying an entire person. She motioned to another pile of straw lying nearby, and then to Inugela.
‘And if I do?’ Inugela finished his morning meal, then searched for somewhere to place the bowls. A little human girl came running with several other bowls in her clutches, accepting his as well. She stared at him for a time, then smiled and ran back towards a large house in the distance.
Inugela lifted the straw over his shoulder, and finding it quite effortless he sought a second bundle. Nearby, a young human boy tied up one just the right size. He thanked the boy and clasped the bindings, heaving it up like the other.
‘I do not judge. Is it part of your customs as elvish folk to make requests of clouds?’ Ankita smiled at a group of field workers 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. ‘But is it customary for you to be working 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 working hour out in the field. As I am next in line to take up the mantle, I am expected to do this more than any of my family.’ Something in Ankita’s posture shifted, and that drew Inugela’s attention. She seemed… discomforted by the last words she chose. Inugela let the silence linger, as he wasn’t sure his next words were chosen so carefully.
‘You aren’t happy being the heir?’ he asked, straining a little as he braced for some sort of outburst. Ankita responded, but it wasn’t in a manner of anger or sadness, she was incredibly calm.
‘Some days, I resent coming home, but others, I do not.’
‘So you were away?’
‘Yes. Originally, it was not by choice, but then I met someone beautiful.’ Ankita strode a little more slowly, sighing as she went. Her eyes had glazed over with what seemed to be a slew of thoughts swarming her mind.
‘What were they like?’ Inugela asked, at this point, not caring what left his mouth.
‘Like how the moon reflects the sun–but she reflected the world. She showed me silly joys, new excitements, danger and a very small piece of what lies beyond these mountains. She showed me the importance of moments, and to never let them go by without an appreciation for them. I could see a life exploring this entire 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. Beside 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 another 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 governmental regions of this country that my people can make it 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 a form of pain. The pain of remembering that night–of realising that he’d just mentioned it for the first time since it happened. It gripped him with the kind of feeling like running into someone you’d avoided for a long time.
‘Thank you for doing that, but 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 nice 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 sighed, ground a heel into the dirt and then opened his mouth. ‘I lived alone on a mountain in the north, up until just a few months ago, called Showdown Peaks. I’d spent ninety years there, studying an artefact in hopes of using 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. ‘Then, I was visited by a group of kind strangers–adventurers. The first I met amongst them took me by surprise, and I quickly fell for her.’ He froze, wanting to just bite his tongue and make this stop. Why did it feel so relieving to share this?
‘And what was she like?’ Ankita asked with a mischievous tone. She continued leading Inugela across the field to the cart, and then back to the collections of bales in the field.
‘Honestly? A little bit crazy,’ he said with a laugh. ‘But not like the typical sort of crazy. I mean in the way she expressed herself–leading with her heart, and all that. The way she loved those around her was spectacular and charming. Within the first day of knowing each other, she made a gift for me. Well, not without a friend’s help, I do believe.’ Inugela, thought about drawing out that disc with the beautiful galaxy orchid, but his hands refused to move for it, like lead in water. ‘And in my culture, a gift like that is only given in the form of a marriage proposal. She didn’t know that, so I just accepted it as a regular gift.’ With his hands free of a bale for the moment, Inugela clasped them together and sighed. ‘After that, I joined them and we became known as the Radiant Vanguards, aspiring heroes of Hopreda’an. We journeyed far, nearly died on many occasions and 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, her friends had caught on to both of our feelings. When I was pressed 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 how I needed to find myself in this world, that 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.’ Suddenly, Inugela realised he was crying, but he didn’t care anymore. Ankita had a hand on his back, simply listening and nodding at every few words.
‘So, I travelled. 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. He stared at the dry dirt for a while, wondering why he was suddenly gushing like this. 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 came here, wasting almost all of the time I needed to get back to her. 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.
‘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 eyes narrowed with a little frustration in them.
‘I don’t know!’
‘Don’t fool yourself,’ Ankita began with a cold stare. Something about what she said had far more reasoning behind it–these words weren’t just for Inugela. ‘Don’t make yourself believe you’re unsure. 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 stood, beckoning for him to do the same. ‘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’ll turn into a joke that you tell your friends. 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 to not 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. This wasn’t the first time someone had to make this decision, and here was one such person, an heiress to a household in The Precinct of Nadaru. Once again, someone had once walked the same path Inugela was on. 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 household. Passing into the mud brick building, they stepped into an enormous living space.
‘Wait here with Nani,’ Ankita said before disappearing up a flight of stairs to the next level.
‘Nani?’ Inugela looked about, then suddenly realised that there was someone sitting mere meters away from him. ‘Goodness!’ He leapt aside with fright, landing in a staggered stance and hand on his heavily beating heart.
‘Oho!’ The older woman giggled as she rocked back into an arm chair. Though her hair was whiter than snow, back hunched and eyes closed by the copious amounts of wrinkles on her face, she still seemed to be looking at him, her head held high.
‘My apologies, Nani. I didn’t see you there.’
‘Not to worry,’ she said, still giggling. ‘Don’t get old, frights get much worse at my age.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Inugela then looked back to the stairs, eagerly awaiting the return of Ankita. Surely it couldn’t take that long to find something in this household, it was rather minimalistic.
‘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 at the question like it was an insect to be swatted at.
‘Someone else’s, then?’ Her eyebrows raised just enough to reveal her pale eyes.
Damnit! She’s quick.
‘I found it!’ Ankita finally returned to the ground floor. She made for the front door and waited for Inugela to follow.
‘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 left the household, and joined Ankita as she overlooked the entire expanse of rice and grain fields. Her eyes glistened as 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 it, what is her name?’
Inugela stopped to think. Once again, this would be the first time he’d uttered this since the night of the ball.
‘Her name is Seraphina.’
‘That is a beautiful name.’ With that, 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 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 that you will not allow yourself to live in regret. Love every moment with her, and with the rest of your friends. No place in this entire world could match up to 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 is to come. 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, remembering that no matter what happened, he was going to miss their meeting day. 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, and this time it wasn’t from the sun.
‘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, and besides, I have many decisions and moments to be made now. I can’t miss them.’
‘That’s quite some wisdom, there.’ 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, and said, ‘hello again. Could you let her know that I’m on my way? Tell her that I’ll find her, even if it has to be across the world.’ With that, he could have sworn the clouds moved much faster. If only I were as fast as them.
Something in the air shifted. Though he didn’t know it, Inugela’s new decision–his resolve–was about to be tested.
Suddenly, without any warning, something appeared. As it had done once before over the waters of Iggilith, a bright green ring sprung open in mid-air before Inugela–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, wore black leather robes, and a black 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 pretty well practiced. 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 of yourself, 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 for a long, long time.’ Inugela passed through the ring, and arrived in a cold and dark room. As that happened, the portal snapped shut, locking him in this new space–a wide and open cavern. Some engravings and a strange disc lay on one wall, as well as several tunnels leading away.
‘Now,’ Wattabol began, seemingly pausing for dramatic effect. ‘Let me ask my favour first.’
A large metal hand gripped Inugela’s shoulder… hard. He slowly turned his head, realising the stupidity of his actions. He remembered that porcelain doll, sent by someone with a strange black mask and red eyes. Of course. The only fight he’d run away from in his time as a Radiant Vanguard–the Black Knight.
Standing over him, with a good few feet on his height, a being clad entirely in black armour loomed. 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.
‘My request,’ Wattabol cawed with a chuckle. ‘Is that you stay quiet whilst my friend here gets to even the score with you.’