Previous Chapter – Skyward Hearts
The Starlit Wanderer Series – Part Two
The freedom to explore the world is a fine gift. However, for most people in the world of Igharias, it is a means to finding home. But how does one find a single home in 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 by any means, but he did know 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 maintained almost year-round pristinely white snow, it was far from a show stopper when it came to culture.
‘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, clutching his bag close to him and not daring to 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 like keeping my skin on my body.’ Making the first turn he could, Inugela raced into a small road, then froze. This is no street. At the end of the alleyway he now found himself in, a strange hooded being looked back at him. The 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.’ He searched about himself, growing more nervous as stranger and stranger folk appeared–even by his standards. Surely, they weren’t all bad. Surely there was someone kindly enough to simply direct him back to the train station.
Then, two figures in aqua coloured fibrous armour came walking from a nearby street. Their clothing each had 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 female hippopotamus person, a 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 trotus 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 made a dash for it. He didn’t concern himself much with what the guards cared for 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, and 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 his worded thoughts filling the sight of his mind like someone shoving a book into his face.
A loud whistle drew his vision back to normal, and a shout caught his attention. Standing out the front of the train station waited a man in full conductor’s uniform, arms crossed and foot tapping the snow.
Inugela lowered his head, realising that he was already late for the train by more than five minutes, and the conductor, Runce, didn’t enjoy being late by even a second.
‘You’re lucky we’re friends, now,’ 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 had smoke pouring into the sky, 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 made for the door leading to the main engine.
‘Alright.’ 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 as the great and famous Sunny Tracker dragged them along. The beautiful snowy city of Soryhi slowly bowed out of sight, taking its shady people with it. With that, Inugela sunk into his seat, alone in the car for the time being.
An hour later, just when Inugela made ready to move himself to a more comfortable seat, he could have sworn he heard a tapping noise coming from above. Maybe it was just a loose rock, or a bird who chose the wrong place to perch. Either way, Inugela was determined to find himself a comfortable seat in the dining car, just a few doors back from his current place.
After a short moment of staggered walking through a few different cars, passing little bedrooms, seating and the odd latrine, Inugela entered into a car that felt much wider than the others, though it wasn’t really. Lovely red leather seats rested to his left, lining that wall with little dining tables between them. Folks sat together, eating and drinking whilst enjoying the passing white landscapes and the snowfall rain. To the right lay a thin wooden desk, a bar, which held behind it shelves upon shelves of alcohol and other less commonly chosen drinks.
‘Heya sweet’art,’ hollered an orange haired and bearded dwarf man from behind the bar. He fluttered his long eyelashes as if it were supposed to make a breeze to cool Inugela.
‘Hello Ginger.’ Inugela found one of the small stools by the bar, and sat before the dwarven man.
‘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, and 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 as 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. The finely crafted sword’s hilt was covered in different textured surfaces, all steel, but looking like a jigsaw of different craftsman 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 swallowed once, and affixed the blade to his left 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. Lastly, he picked up a silver bracer, the intricate floral patterns indicating elvish design, and he frowned.
‘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. He determined that it must have some high value to it, but there wasn’t a single mark to signify its maker.
‘Are you sure about this? You could probably make a cool 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.’ Inugela, felt awkward about putting the bracer on, and so just dropped it into his shoulder bag. Instead, he said, ‘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 dwarven criminals.’ Runce stuck his tongue out and laughed heartily.
‘That was one time.’ Ginger rolled his eyes. He moved away from the bar with a smile, finding a drink cart waiting off to the side and pushed it through to the next room, leaving the boys alone to chat.
Inugela took a moment to be sure he had all his things, intending and hoping for Runce to come up with the conversation topic. Runce simply 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, and shrugged. ‘I think I’d be in less danger if I wasn’t carrying a pretty and magical sword–less chances of someone challenging me to a fight.’
‘And if someone does?’
‘I mean, well, I run. Unless things get really bad, then 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, this is why 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. He half smiled and nodded at Inugela and then the firearm.
Inugela grimaced at the golden weapon, as he didn’t quite like the idea of walking about with a loaded gun. 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. Weird.
‘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 probably were waist deep in some grand adventure, without him. It’s my fault I’m alone, anyway.
‘Woah!’ 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.
‘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, your decision. Once you have that, almost nothing can bring you down.’
Sadness fell upon Inugela 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’s 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 I was lost.’ Runce stared longingly out to 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. He suddenly doubted his choices again, frustrated with the confusion more than anything.
‘Not at all. 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 it is again. Inugela pondered that notion of freedom. To think that such an unusual home arrangement could exist seemed a fictional tale. And yet, there it was, bearing wisdom upon him in a conductor’s uniform.
‘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 the most complicated situations can find a solution.’
‘My suggestion,’ Runce said with a tip of his cap. ‘When you next get the chance, follow your heart instead of your head–it’s got less thoughts cluttering it.’
Inugela laughed, but nodded firmly, sincerely considering the advice. He could tell Runce was proud of bringing that laugh out, though. Gratitude warmed his thoughts as the rest of that 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 stilled him with the shake of his head.
I’ll handle this one, for you. Inugela gestured, mouthing the words with a quiet whisper. 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 slung the door open, causing a billowing gust of wind to fill the car. People started to panic, but Runce quietened them with a gesture and shout.
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. He had very little experience with these creatures, having met only one in his lifetime, but that one was friendly and back on the mountain in his old home. He knew that these creatures usually served a maker, so it surely wasn’t alone.
‘I am asking, clearly.’ 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 couldn’t help performing a little flourish, whipping the air with steel. He gestured back to the door, saying, ‘allow me a favour–let’s take this outside.’
‘As you wish.’ The marionette stepped backwards through the door, and then inhumanly climbed back up to the roof. 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’m going to remove it.’ He gripped a bar ladder, then hoisted himself onto the shaky roof of the car.
Frosted mountains and snow topped trees whisked by as light cloud blanketed the sky, sending slow snowfall down to the pair that faced off atop the Sunny Tracker. 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.
‘Argh!’ 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. Taking the full impact, Inugela lost his footing and slid onto his side. The train’s momentum sent him sliding toward its back end. He struggled to stop himself, then his legs dropped off the back of the car. Gripping a thin rail, 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 windchime.
‘Of course.’ Inugela made his next move–best to keep the upper hand whilst he could. I just have to get it to stay still. He flourished his blade, then made a small gesture 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. Then, he blocked two more punches before driving his blade home. The strike scarcely cut the doll, scratching its side. The marionette battered the weapon aside, then 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 now, as 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 simply let the magic take 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 had a chance to get some 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 simply continued to struggle, despite the pain it surely felt by now. Twisting its arms, the doll tore several vines from its body, then let the rest of the vines slacken at its feet.
‘Your magic is a gimmick.’ It retook its fighting stance. ‘There is only strength in a fighter’s skill, not cheap tricks.’
‘Alright.’ Inugela held his blade out, and made two swipes at the creature, then two more as it easily bent and twisted to dodge each and every one. Inugela continued moving in closer, pushing it back until it found itself at the front edge 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 the tip of the blade into the join 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 changing your kind is defined by. You’re quite the collectable.’
Inugela grimaced at the creature, disgusted by how coldly it spoke. Who would create such an emotionless thing? Better yet, who would employ it to hunt him down? Surely the felus 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. 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 was starting to sound like a friend he swore to never be like.
‘All I saw of them was that creepy helmet, black with red eyes glowing inside.’
‘Like a black knight?’ Inugela snapped. Surely not, he’s trapped.
The marionette answered no further, and grabbed hold of the blade itself. It pushed back against Inugela, the sound of steel scraping against porcelain joining the whistle of the train. Inugela faltered for a moment too long, and his opponent escaped the point of his blade, then struck his side. He slipped aside and a bar tripped him, sending him rolling into open air.
For that split second, Inugela felt as he had once before–free. However, he didn’t have a glider this time, and so the white ground came up to meet him. He thumped into the snow, spraying it about. Rolling just a few meters, he managed to throw himself upright. He was sore, but steady.
The marionette leapt from its place, hands outstretched and head tilted to one side. It landed in the snow with ease, and made its one final mistake–talking.
‘You are nothing special. People just like looking at you. 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.’
‘Argh!’ 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 finally passed, leaving pieces of the doll lying about 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. No, 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 governmental regions of Hophreda’an. Then it was decided, Inugela would walk, as far as his feet could take him. What he didn’t expect, however, was how far his mind would take him.
Maybe I can change, and find friends. No wait, I already have friends. They like me for more than what I am–like family. Do they really? No… what am I here for again? Why am I traveling out here? I’m doing this for myself, aren’t I? How selfish. What was the point of all this?