Tales Of Grimea (17 page)

He may as well have let the thing eat him.
There was no purpose in anything he ever did, and all of his
actions ended in failure. Gurei’s life was just an empty routine,
trying every day to summon the strength to smile and enjoy
something like normal people did. It was too hard. He knew that
every day would be the same, and there was nothing but emptiness to
look forward to. Letting that reality crash over him for the first
time that day, the boy in the brown tunic sat down and cried. Even
that felt stupid, because he didn’t really have any big problems.
The shadows flitted in his heart, telling him that nothing will
ever make him happy. Someone without a purpose should just lie
there and turn to stone. This was the part of his second job that
he hated. Keeping the mask of normal life on all the time was
difficult, but it kept him from overthinking things. Now, that
safety was gone. Desperately, squatting against a tree trunk, the
boy grasped on to his knees. Mentally, he tried to think of
something to get him up. He needed the strength to stand up and go
back, face his family, and keep living. The only purpose which came
to mind was Natsumi, and so Gurei focused on that. He visualized
the beautiful girl in something other than filthy work tunics, cute
with done hair and just a hint of powder on her face. He held that
image in his head for a few seconds, then got up.

When Gurei came back out the bamboo forest,
the sky was almost completely dark. He could see light from his
parent’s shack, but made his way to Natsumi’s with a determined
step. He had filled another sack, that one with momo and sakura
flowers. He walked a few minutes to where her own shack was, then
paused, fist hanging over the door. His knees shook, and the boy
realized that he didn’t have it in him. He’d gathered all the
strength he had in his soul, and still couldn’t knock on the door
of a silly girl’s room. A low moan like sound escaped his mouth.
Even if he could, she would never accept his advances.

Just as he turned to make his way back home
her door opened. She eyed at him in surprise. “Gurei?” she asked,
and slight irritation ran through him. Then he noticed how cute it
was when she asked while knowing the answer. “Uh, yes.”

“What is it?” she asked, then saw the sacks.
“Wow, did you gather that much?”

“No… half is… it’s…” She waited patiently,
looking innocent with head cocked to the side. Then she asked,
“Flowers? Are they for me?”

“…Yes…” Now it was his turn to cast his gaze
shyly. He was sure it wasn’t quite so captivating when he acted
this way.

“Awww! That’s so sweet of you!” she stepped
forward, took the sack in his right hand, and looked inside. Gurei
realized how clammy his palms were, and hoped he hadn’t stained the
sack. Then he saw the mark on it and his heart dropped. It began to
rain again, slowly. Luckily, this cut the conversation time.

“It’s amazing of you. I like momo and sakura
flowers. Tsubaki is my favorite, though. It signifies perfect love.
Anyway, the people from the caravan hired you. There’s a magician
and some scouts from Yotaku, want to go into the forest. We were
with them most of the evening.”

Gurei couldn’t sleep that night. After he
got home, his father had introduced him to a lord Aimatsu, who was
a man around his forties. The lord owned a nicely trimmed beard,
bore a green cape, and seemed completely uninterested in Gurei, his
guide for the night. He simply told him that he was to take them
into the forest and guide them as deep within as possibly. When
that was done, the lord retreated back to his wagon, where he and
his hardened scouts set up camp for the night.

Stress wore on the boy. He had not an
inkling of what was meant to happen with him the day after.
Moreover, Natsumi’s rejection of his flowers had hurt. What kind of
idiot doesn’t check the flower types before picking them? Thus he
tossed and turned, opening his eyes every so often so as to glare
at his shack’s roof. Katou snored peacefully.

An hour before it was time to wake, Gurei
started trying to get him. He tried threats, goads, encouragement,
everything. None of it worked, and it was not until he was summoned
that he stood up and got dressed.
Maybe I was born to be a
servant. Maybe uncle Yatushi will have me clean up after his
daughter.
When he went out, the “expedition party” looked
dashing in their matching cloaks. The scouts were armed with bows
and daggers and their leather boots looked more expensive than the
shack Gurei shared with his brother. One of them glanced at him and
then winked in a friendly manner while the others looked like
statues. There were five of them, and they stood a circle around
their lord, whose hooded cloak was a dark blue with golden
trimmings. His wooden staff was cracked a foot and a half from the
bottom. “Ready, boy?” Asked the older man.

“Yes, sir,” mumbled Gurei. His father and
the man exchanged a look and he wondered if they could see the
emptiness in his eyes. It was especially bad that day, and he just
prayed for things to be over. He needed the ground to swallow him
up. He just wanted to be left alone.

They walked into the forest for an hour or
so, Gurei took his six companions on the trail he usually followed,
but the going was much smoother. The scouts would flit out ahead
and back every so often, making sure there were no dangers ahead
and clearing them if they found any. Gurei couldn’t hear their
arrows, but could see fewer and fewer of them on the scout’s
quivers as time went on. The sky was almost black above them, and
there no birds in flight. This caused another type of activity as
landlocked creatures used the chance to hunt while sound and smells
were blocked by the heavy rains. As they walked, Gurei saw a
surudoi under a tree, lying on its back. He went over and flipped
it on its stomach, and the needle covered rat scuttled away.

“Kind of you,” remarked the scout who had
winked at him earlier.

“He might as well go,” he answered, and the
man raised an eyebrow.

“How come you know this forest so well? I do
not see a woodsman in you, child.” The forest ahead was starting to
thicken, and the formation around them tightened to protect lord
Aimatsu. This was far deeper than Gurei had ever gone before, but
the magician seemed to follow his cracked staff, tapping it every
so often and then choosing a direction. He seemed to backtrack
often and turn in strange manners, but Mamuro told Gurei that was
normal. “There’s a very specific magical path. He’s following that.
Stay close to us.”

Just when Gurei was about to nod, their
group stumbled upon another Dodomeki. The fell creature turned its
eyes on them as Gurei gasped, knees turning week. Before it could
move any of its four lanky arms, the magician grunted, “All
clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied his five guards one by
one, each pointing arrows in different directions. He gave his
staff a dismissive wave and the beast fell over with a scream.
Gurei whimpered, realizing he was in way over his head when none of
the guards even glanced at the beast when they walked past it. He
glanced at the beast as they left, and still could not see a
mouth.

They walked another few minutes when
something went wrong. Gurei couldn’t feel it, but he could see the
scouts tighten their circle as their nerves frayed slowly, drawn as
tight as their arrows upon curved smooth bows. “Sir…” said Mamoru
at last.

“I know,” retorted his master, quickening
his pace. The scouts and Gurei began to walk faster in turn, until
they were trotting, as if fleeing from something unseen and
unknown. The boy knew not what his betters were abhorring, but he
felt bile rise in his throat. The already menacing trees grew more
frightening with encroaching danger, and the shadows all around
grew ever longer and deeper.

Just when Gurei’s weak constitution was
about to cause him to falter, their leader stopped abruptly. Before
anyone could say anything the man turned, sweeping his cloak wide
and waving his cracked staff. He recited the words of an
incantation old enough that the trees sighed, and Gurei looked
about them in fear. All of the scouts were facing behind them, the
way they had come. He did so too, and could barely make out a
slender figure making its way towards them. It carried what looked
like a small dagger, and the boy’s heart skipped a beat.

The faraway figure waved its dagger and Lord
Aimatsu cried. He fell with a thud, dropping his staff. Still he
recited his spell furiously, voice mounting, pitted against the
sigh of the forest. One by one the scouts fell to their knees. “You
are making a mistake,” said the old man finally, having given up on
defense.

The figure was now near, but stood behind a
shadow so as not to show his face. “Am I, now?”

“You are. We are here to negotiate peaceful
communication. The Empire of Yotaku wishes to initiate contact with
your people, now that we know you exist and hide in the
forest.”

“We do not hide. We simply keep our distance
from foolish humans such as yourself.”

“To what end? At least let me speak, so as
to search for common grounds. We have heard the tales of elves.
When you last saw us, we were but apes. Not so now.”

“No?” The figure laughed and took one step
forward. He was pale, boasted large blue eyes and blonde hair, as
well as long ears tipped ears. “You do well to resist my
spell.”

“Believe me, I am trying hard. It feels
like… like…”

“Like your soul becomes enshrouded in
darkness. You lose all will to fight, to breathe, and to live.
Things become empty and the only sensation you are left with is a
numbness filled with self-loathing.”

The mage nodded, then let his head hang.
“Please… release us. Let us speak. I beg of you.”

“It’s a particularly nasty spell; got me
this position as guardian, in fact. If it is peace you want, and
relations, then I suppose I can let you through for the senate to
hear and the guards to deal with. I must admit, no one has ever
gone against it this hard, and it says a great deal about your
devotion. This brat is strange though.” The man’s eyes homed in on
Gurei, and the boy thought he might die then and there. “He does
not seem to react at all. Is he warded?”

“Not that I know of. How are you still fine,
child?” This the Lord asked Gurei, and in wonder at that. The boy
felt Aimatsu look at him for the first.

“I, sir….” Something about the man’s
description of the spell felt strange “I don’t really know. I’m
just a stupid brat. But that sensation you described, sir elf? The
crushing sense of worthlessness and not knowing who or what you are
or why you’re alive? The despair and numb and all t-that?” as he
spoke, the boy realized that he was speaking to a living, breathing
elf. There were magical creatures in all of Grimea. However, the
other sentient beings besides humans were all supposed to be either
myths or long lost. And he was speaking to one!

“Yes?” asked the elf impatiently.

“That’s how I feel all the time.”

After a shocked second, both the elf and
Lord Aimatsu laughed. They laughed in great booming bursts until
both wiped tears off their faces and had to lean on something. Even
the scouts chuckled. Gurei didn’t quite realized it, but he had cut
the tension between two races and united them in mirth for the
first time in eons. “May I send him home?” Asked the elf after the
long fit.

“Please, sir,” replied Lord Aimatsu, who had
gotten to his feet after being released from the elf’s spell and
was helping his scouts up. The elf proceeded to wave his dagger,
which turned out to be a small wooden wand. And a light began to
shine around Gurei. He instructed the boy to just walk forward.
“Thank you!” called the lord after him.

When too much happens at once, one loses the
ability to rationally think. It is a little like having a
comfortable rug pulled out from under your feet. This was a
fortunate thing for Gurei because it meant that he didn’t have the
capacity to dwell on things as he walked, elevating his mood to a
neutral level. There was simply too much, and he promptly decided
that it was too much for a simple farmer boy. His father had been
paid and his job was over.

Just as he reached the hill where he lived,
the boy was surprised to see none other than Natsumi waiting for
him. Beautiful, radiant Natsumi. She asked him how things had gone,
and he blankly said they’d gone well. It was perhaps the first
sentence he’d ever said to her without tripping over his words, and
the surprise was evident on both of their faces.

“Listen,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that yesterday,
I didn’t mean that you gave me the wrong flowers. I was really
happy for the tsubaki, but just wanted to make conversation. Now
that I think about it, I might make tsubaki my favorite
flower.”

“Oh,” he said. “I thought I had ruined
things.” It occurred to him that he may have brought himself down
by assuming too much.

“Silly,” she exclaimed, “it made my day
wonderful.”

“I-I think you saying that just made my day
good too.” Saying that was a bold statement for the boy, and it was
difficult to hide the furious blush stampeding through his face.
Above them, for once, the sun shined.

Year: 7 post Adventus

Every cloud has a silver lining. The troll,
in the metaphorical sense, presented an incredibly dark cloud
overshadowing the town of Erbhelm, and so needed some exceptional
lining to balance things out. That is where the blacksmith of Coeur
comes into this tale, and that was because his name was Silver.

Erbhelm had never been a truly quiet town,
nor very prosperous. Some stubborn folk had decided generations ago
that they wanted to start a community smack down in the middle of a
magic forest. “Good people and good food!” their leader had
announced, a man who possessed little good sense but was a simple
honest man.