Chương 18: To a Better Place

After some time traveling in the direction of the mortal indicated by Soul Awareness, I eventually found what appeared to be a rather promising traveler to serve as my unwitting means of transportation. Resting beside a modest campfire was a man who appeared to be somewhere in his twenties, dressed in a tattered cloak. A rugged backpack lay beside him, though it struck me immediately how little it seemed to contain.

Judging from its shape, there were no bulky blankets, spare clothing, or even the sort of provisions one would normally expect from someone intending to travel through a forest for any meaningful length of time. A man of his apparent age was unlikely to have neglected such necessities through mere carelessness. Rather, I suspected necessity had forced his hand to leave with only what he could gather at a moment's notice. The man's condition only reinforced that conclusion.

Dirt and dried mud stained nearly every inch of his clothing, while his boots appeared so thoroughly worn that I found myself impressed they remained intact at all. Even as he rested, I noticed the signs of prolonged exhaustion in his body. His shoulders sagged despite lying against a fallen log, his breathing remained deeper than one would expect, and every so often one of his legs twitched involuntarily. Everything about him suggested a man who had spent at least several days walking with little rest.

Whether he fled from some danger or raced toward an urgent destination, I could not yet determine, but desperation seemed the most likely explanation. The campfire beside the man provided only a modest amount of warmth, and I observed him shivering from time to time despite remaining close to the flames. More tellingly, I saw no bedroll, tent, or even a simple fur blanket among his belongings. I found myself wondering what misfortune had driven him into such a pitiable state.

Then I remembered the elf I had encountered previously, the one who had used my venom to kill those unfortunate villagers. If this weary traveler happened to originate from one of those settlements, then there existed a real possibility that my venom had indirectly claimed the lives of people he had once known, perhaps even those he cared for. The realization stirred the faintest trace of sympathy within me.

It was admittedly an unpleasant thought that my own abilities had, however unintentionally, contributed to such suffering. That fleeting sympathy, however, was hardly sufficient to stop me from doing what must be done. Whatever tragedies this man had endured were regrettable, but they did not alter the fact that he presented me with an excellent opportunity to leave this forest. With my decision made, I climbed down the branch until I reached its underside before securing a strand of silk above me.

Then, I slowly lowered myself toward the forest floor, releasing the thread only once I was certain I could land without making a sound. Then, I carefully crawled until I arrived beside the man's backpack. Fortunately, it had not been fastened particularly well, allowing me to slip through a small opening. After taking care not to disturb any of his meager possessions, I settled comfortably among them.

There I intended to remain for the foreseeable future, emerging only occasionally to observe the surroundings and ensure my unsuspecting carrier continued traveling out of the forest. Perhaps if I felt charitable, I may even decide to help this poor man from time to time, at least until we arrived at a more proper destination.

Ronald woke with another shiver running through his body. Sleep hadn't done much to help him after all. His back ached from lying on the hard ground, his legs felt heavy, and felt very cold. But, he reckoned a few hours of sleep was better than none at all. As he slowly pushed himself upright and sat cross-legged beside the dying campfire, his thoughts wandered back to the village. Back to his neighbors, back to the home he had built with his own hands… and back to his wife. That elf...

there had to be something wrong with her head, Ronald had heard about how elves could be cruel, but he never expected them to be so evil. Ronald could still remember the screams and the way she'd butchered people right out in the open as though their lives meant less than dirt. Worst of all was his wife. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget the look in her eyes before she died. Ever since that elf came to the village, some folks packed up and left. They were scared the elves might come back one day.

Ronald still remembered the elder saying he feared the village had been marked somehow, and that the elves might come back again in a couple of months to collect their "taxes" in any way they saw fit, including taking away people. Of course, not everyone could just leave, especially since a lot of folks had spent their whole lives in the village. Some people also hadn't lost as much from the elf's arrival, so it was easier for them to stay and hope things would get better.

But Ronald couldn't do that, he couldn't lie to himself. Every time he walked past his house, he could almost see his wife standing in the doorway. Then the picture in his head would change, and all he could see was her body lying still on the ground. Even if the elves never came back, Ronald knew he couldn't keep living in a place filled with memories like that. The elder spent days trying to change his mind.

The village had lost many men and needed people to help run things, at least until things could somewhat go back to normal. But Ronald had already made his choice. He packed what little he could carry and headed south to his uncle's village. His uncle was a good man, and Ronald knew he'd have a place there as long as he worked hard on the farm. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was better than staying somewhere that no longer felt like home.

He was still afraid of the forest, but after all he'd lost, he figured it was a risk worth taking. Thankfully, this journey was simple enough. He only had to find and then follow this big river until it split in two. Once he reached the fork, he'd keep to the river on the right, and sooner or later he'd find the road leading to his uncle's village. Ronald sighed as he stood, stamping out the last of the fire before gathering his few belongings. He stretched his aching back, and adjusted his backpack.

As he started walking again, another thought crossed his mind. Since he'd be following the river anyway, it'd probably be worth finding a nice branch and carving himself a fishing spear. He still had his trusty machete, and it wouldn't take long to sharpen the end. Fresh fish would certainly beat trying to stretch the last few scraps of dried food in his pack. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

As Ronald walked, he thought back to the few memories he still had of his grandfather. While Ronald had lived his life only knowing elven rule, his grandfather once told him a story of when the village still belonged to the old Empire, before the elves took over everything. Apparently, there'd been an empress back then. Ronald couldn't remember her name anymore, only that she was human, just like everyone else in his village. If he was being completely honest, he hadn't known much about her.

Folks like him didn't have much reason to think about rulers living all the way out in the capital. But, he remembered one thing that his grandfather mentioned to him as clear as day. Once every year, a group of well-dressed officials would ride into the village with wagons full of bread and cheese. Every household would be given a loaf and a small wheel to take home, all paid for by the Empire. It all sounded a bit too good to be true in Ronald's opinion, but his grandfather insisted it was all very real.

Although, Ronald couldn't rightly remember what the celebration had been for. Maybe it was the Empress's birthday, or maybe some other holiday. But what mattered was that the Empire had supposedly remembered little villages like theirs even existed. The elves, on the other hand... well, Ronald couldn't picture them ever giving common folk anything except more reasons to be afraid. After a while, Ronald shook his head. Thinking about the old days wasn't going to fill his stomach.

He needed to find some proper food first. Eventually, he reached the wide river he was supposed to follow, only to see that the water rushed past with far more force than he'd remembered. The current churned violently, enough that fishing there probably wasn't a good idea. Well, there wasn't much sense standing around feeling sorry for himself. He'd just have to look elsewhere. Maybe he'd get lucky and find a rabbit, or maybe a young boar. Either way, at least he knew where the river was now.

Once he'd found something to eat and rested up, he could always come back and continue following it toward his uncle's village.

It had been a few weeks since I had hid myself within the man's backpack, and so far, the arrangement had been mostly successful. He appeared to be following a river intentionally rather than wandering the wilderness at random, which suggested he possessed at least some idea of where he intended to go. Each night, after he had fallen into a sufficiently deep sleep, I would slip from the pack, consume enough leaves to sustain myself, and return before he showed the slightest sign of waking.

After observing him for many nights, I had grown acquainted with his sleeping habits, learning to discern the subtle changes in his breathing and movements that hinted at when he might wake up. This allowed me to hide back in the backpack before the man ever woke up, and whenever he did reach into the backpack while I was inside, Phantom Veil allowed me to remain concealed without fear of discovery. Though intangible to his touch, I found that I did not simply pass through the confines of the backpack.

So, it appeared that I possessed some measure of control over my intangibility. Such control did make sense, were it otherwise, I should be condemned to pass endlessly through every object I encountered. At the moment, I remained in his backpack while he continued walking. Small gaps in the fabric allowed in some narrow shafts of light, which meant I could at least gauge the passage of time with reasonable accuracy.

Judging by the angle and intensity of the sunlight filtering through those tiny openings, I estimated it to be sometime during the afternoon. Our progress had been steady, and although I had yet to verify whether we had truly left the forest behind, I suspected we were close. But suddenly, I felt the man stop moving. I assumed he had simply stopped to rest or perhaps intended to search for food as he had done many times before. Such interruptions had become familiar enough that I scarcely paid them any mind.

Then, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, another voice reached my ears.

"Goin' somewhere?" The rough accent and coarse manner of speaking immediately struck me as belonging to someone uncivilized. If I were forced to speculate, I would have wagered that the speaker was a bandit or some other criminal. The one encouraging realization was that my carrier had almost certainly reached a proper road, or at least a well-traveled route. Bandits rarely wasted their time lurking in forests where few travelers ever ventured.

Unfortunately, that thought was interrupted when the man abruptly dropped his backpack. The sudden impact sent me tumbling among his belongings, leaving me momentarily disoriented. By the time I had regained my bearings, I could already hear the man desperately pleading with the strangers.

"Please, I'm just tryin' to get to my uncle's place. That's all."

"Well now, ain't that convenient?" another man replied.

"Funny thing is, we're lookin' to make a livin' ourselves. Reckon we oughta help each other out."

"Please, I've got a few things in my pack. You can take 'em all. The food, my machete, every last bit of it. Just let me go." The bandit laughed again, joined this time by several others.

"Your junk? What'd I want with a rusty machete an' a bag full o' scraps? See, me an' the boys need a proper payday, and the elves pay good coin for healthy slaves." I didn't need to listen to the rest of the conversation to know where this was going. Normally, I would have regarded the fate of my unwilling carrier with indifference. However, I had only just managed to secure a convenient means of leaving the forest, and I had no desire to watch that arrangement come to an abrupt end so soon.

A frightened but cooperative traveler was still more useful than a band of aimless bandits who seemed content to wander the roads in search of easy prey. I decided that, for the time being, I would help my carrier. As the bandits' footsteps drew closer, I crawled toward one of the smaller openings in the backpack. I chewed away at the surrounding fabric until the opening had widened sufficiently, then slipped outside. From my new vantage point, I quickly assessed the situation.

The unfortunate traveler had already been disarmed, his machete now resting in the hands of one of the bandits while two others firmly restrained his arms. Standing a short distance away from the action was another man who seemed conspicuously unconcerned with the commotion unfolding before him. While the others busied themselves restraining my carrier, he simply stood without lifting so much as a finger.

The others also appeared to glance toward him from time to time, as though awaiting his approval before acting further. It was a subtle detail, but I assumed that this man was the group's leader. A quick check with my Mana Sense confirmed that none of the bandits possessed magic. If my psionics could fracture the leg of a magical beast, dealing with an ordinary human should be easier, or at least, that was what I hoped.

There was only one way to find out for sure, so I focused on the bandit leader's throat before attempting to use Psy-Crush.