Homeward Bound
A Fantasy Story
I’m very pleased to bring readers our second guest post, and first work of fiction by a guest, written by a friend of mine, Daniel Sausen. As a reminder, guest submissions are open and guidelines may be found here. Please enjoy the story, and feel free to share it with anyone you think might enjoy it as well.
Erion sped through the silent forest, smooth strides not quite enough to pull away from her pursuers. Her breath frosted in the cold, bright air. Powdered snow, glistening brilliantly in the sharp sunlight, flew behind her to mingle with the fresh snowfall from above. Ice crystals glittered in the air. She didn’t need to look back to know that her pursuers had closed the gap. They were gaunt figures with rough, gray skin. Thin fingers stuck out at odd angles. Black holes for the eyes and mouth stood out sharply in the center of their bodies. They moved with a deceptive speed despite their ungainly appearance. And they didn’t get tired.
Forest warders, two of them. She must have tripped an alarm. “Come on,” she muttered to herself between harsh breaths burning in the frigid air. A naked branch slapped across her face as she hurtled a fallen log. She knew her goal was close, but she was flagging. She could hear the dull crunch of the warders’ feet as they hit the snow-covered ground, echoing out of time with her own.
She reached into her belt, fumbled for a second, then pulled out some thready material. She threw it behind her and spoke a quick phrase. Bright lines began coalescing in the air behind her. The warders ran through them before they had time to fully solidify, but it bought her a few steps.
She looked ahead and saw the trees thin out. This must be it. With a last surge of speed, Erion burst forward into the clearing. A steep cliff overlooked a large lake, its brilliant cerulean blue waters mirror-smooth despite the chill wind.
WIthout hesitation, she threw herself over the cliff’s edge.
Silence. Darkness. If she thought she was cold before, she was sadly mistaken. The water burned her skin with a thousand small fires, driving what little breath she had left out of her. She forced her eyes open, taking in the underwater world. The startlingly clear water allowed her to see a great deal farther than she expected. She looked upwards. Forms dancing crazily in the waves generated by her plunge, she could see the two warders standing sentinel at the cliff edge, no doubt waiting for her to resurface. But she had come prepared.
With numb hands, she once again fumbled in her belt, this time pulling out a crimson orb that glowed softly with an inner light. She hurriedly swung it through the water a few times to activate it, then popped it in her mouth. Air bubbles cascaded towards her, quickly coalescing into a pocket around her head. She gratefully took a few breaths. At the same time, vestiges of warmth trickled through her body, beating back the icy lancets of cold. Her spell would help her survive, but it wouldn’t completely overcome the freezing water.
Erion used thoughts of her home to block out the cold. She pictured the narrow streets, dust blown in swirling eddies by the hot wind. Mudbrick buildings rose to irregular heights, all baking in the dry heat of the desert sun. Street urchins lounged in the narrow shadows cast by small awnings during the height of day. White linens hung out to dry on lines running between the buildings. Unfeathered cafaria birds, untroubled by the midday sun, lined the rooftops. But mostly she tried to remember the warmth.
She refocused on the task at hand and looked down. For all the lake’s clarity, she couldn’t make out the bottom. She glanced up at the surface, the sky a bright gray high above her, then started her swim downwards. The light dimmed as she descended, bubbles flowing towards her to replenish the one around her head. She watched with concern as the pressure of the water drove it ever closer towards her head; she wasn’t sure how much it could take.
She gave a sigh of relief when the lake bed swam into view. Truly, it was a stunning sight. The ground glittered dully, reflecting the little light that penetrated this far down. Solid waves of gold crystals undulated as far as the eye could see. Other colors flashed and glinted in the golden plain. But she wasn’t hunting for gold or gems. She swam along, close to the ground now, eyes constantly on the move.
She spent hours swimming along the lake bed, occasionally eating another one of her crimson orbs, before she found what she was searching for. Caverns thrust upwards from the lake bed, their entrance a darkness even in the dim lighting this far below the surface. She swam towards it and pulled another prepared spell from her pouch, this one glowing a brilliant green. She cautiously made her way into the cavern. The crystal formations were much more diverse here, and thousands of colors reflected the light of her globe. She carefully swam around one particularly large formation, a light pink crystal with blade-like edges. As she watched, the color changed to a deep, aquamarine blue. She lingered for a second, captivated by the beauty, but then pressed on. She only had so many cranberry orbs, and she’d already been gone longer than she was comfortable with. Besides, she was freezing.
There. She’d seen something out of the corner of her eye. She kicked out in that direction. It was the only patch that hadn’t glistened since she dove down; instead, it gave off its own brilliant white bioluminescence. Excitement coursed through her. She had spent years gathering the components for the spell that would take her back home, and this was the last piece. She scraped some into a vial she had brought for the purpose, closed its stopper, and slipped it in her pouch, pausing only to pop another cranberry orb into her mouth. Faint tendrils of warmth snaked through her body to her extremities, and her violent shivering lessened. Her mouth formed a tight line. It was her last one.
She quickly found the exit and swam towards the surface, air bubble expanding as she ascended. She broke free into the air. The lowering sun had penetrated the overcast gray of the clouds. Its wan light reflected off the water with a dull fire.
She looked around, but all she saw was water. She swam, keeping the sun at her back. She found a small log and gratefully draped herself over it. Realistically, her last orb wouldn’t keep her warm until she reached shore. The extra water pressure must have exhausted her spells faster than usual.
The frigid chill of the lake soon sapped the last residual warmth given by her orb. Weight began settling in her limbs. The effort of lifting them above the water soon became enormous; her head began slipping beneath the surface, and she repositioned herself so that she straddled the log. She felt warmth; some distant part of her mind kept fighting, realizing that was not a good thing, but the rest of her relaxed as the warmth spread. Darkness danced around the edge of her vision. She kept pushing, but she could no longer remember why. The darkness pressed in further. Her body sagged on the log.
Her eyes opened. She felt battered. She tried shifting her position, but even that was a strain. For a moment, she thought she was back at home, but the surroundings were wrong. She was resting in a soft bed and covered by a soft, white down blanket. Someone had changed her clothes. Warm, brown log walls took on a ruddy orange in the light of the fire that glowed in the stone hearth. The furniture was simple and made of solid wood. A forest warder sat at one of the chairs. Erion struggled, trying to get up, trying to flee, but it was useless. She was too weak.
He turned at the creaking of the mattress.
“Haglund, she’s awake,” he said. She hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a loft off to the side.
A second forest warder came to the railing and leaned over. “Still trying to fight, huh? You gave us a pretty good chase. I’d love to know how you stayed under water as long as you did. And, of course, what you were doing.” She said nothing. The forest warder grunted, but said no more.
The days passed slowly. They treated her quite well for a prisoner. She had excellent food and comfortable lodgings, and both were courteous to her. However, she had no doubts about her status. They didn’t allow her to do anything without close supervision, and she wasn’t allowed outside. She helped around the house as much as she could, both to regain her strength and in hopes that they would relax their guard. They did not.
It was two weeks before she learned her fate. “There is a penalty for trespassing in the Sacred Forest,” Haglund said. “We have heard from the Droneria, or what you would call the Leadership Council in your land.” She looked up in surprise. They hadn’t asked where she was from, nor had she volunteered any information about herself.
“You have two options. You could spend two years in the penal system of Rulia, our capital city. You won’t be harmed, but you won’t enjoy your time there. Or you could spend one year working off your sentence and join us as Forest Warders. Life will still be difficult, but you can become a full Warder afterwards. The decision is yours. You have until tomorrow at this time.”
She froze. Many components of the spell required to return home would decay long before she was released. She would have to regather them. Which meant that it would likely be at least three more years before she could return home. She would simply have to escape before the spell components broke down.
As far as the choice they had offered, it was a fairly easy decision. “I will stay,” she said when they approached her the next evening. She’d at least be useful here, and working in the forest sounded much more pleasant than wasting away in some penitentiary in Rulia.
They smiled, but Haglund said, “If you try to avoid work, you’ll be sent to Rulia to complete the two year sentence. You can also try to escape, but no one’s succeeded yet, and you’re still responsible for the day’s tasks when you return.”
She quickly learned that they were right about escape. Every morning, she performed the Prisoner’s Spell under the warders’ watchful eyes, which not only allowed them to track her location but also prevented her from leaving the confines of the forest. Every time she tried, she felt a tug as soon as she stepped into the outside world and was transported back to the house. She even tried waking up before the others to avoid performing the spell. The warders had simply laughed when she rematerialized in the house later that morning.
“Everyone does that at some point,” Haglund said. “But it only needs to be renewed once per week. We have you do it daily as an added precaution.” It was a well-tested piece of magic, and any loopholes had long since been discovered and addressed. There would be no escaping.
As time passed, she began to enjoy her time as a warder. She found that she loved the forest, so different from her desert homeland. The work itself was difficult but rewarding, and she loved being part of a team. She became very close with the two warders she lived with. The taller one, whose name was Quartan, had a quick, dry wit and a ready laugh that filled the small cabin. Haglund was the shorter one. He was stolid and dependable by nature. Both of them were unfailingly kind to her.
The days melted away, thawing from the harsh cold of winter to the soft rains of spring, from the pleasantly warm days of summer to the golden evenings of autumn. Before long, winter had returned.
It was a snowy evening some time in the depths of midwinter, a night where swirling winds drive the fresh fallen snow into towering drifts. The work today had been particularly challenging - they needed to relocate a family of badgers from a sett that was in danger of washing away during the spring floods to an empty one that had been cataloged the previous year. After hours in the cold, they had managed and were now sitting down to hearty beef stew with fresh-baked bread.
Once they had finished eating and the conversation had ebbed away, Quartan pushed her bowl away with satisfaction. She looked at Erion for a second. “You know, it’ll be one year tomorrow. You’re free to go after that.”
“We’ve loved working with you,” added Haglund. “Hopefully, you’ll think about joining us on a more permanent basis.” Not wanting to push Erion on the matter, they stood and began clearing the dishes from the table.
A year already! She’d been dreading this day of decision more as she’d grown to enjoy her time here. A large part of her still wanted nothing more than to return home. While she had no family, she had some very close friends that she would love to see again. And home meant familiarity. She knew that life better than any other.
But the fact of the matter was that it had already been some eight years since she had been stolen from her homeland and sold into slavery, and she would need another two or three years to regather the components for her spell. One year was time enough for change; would she recognize anything after more than a decade? And then there was the community she had forged here. Not just Quartan and Haglund, but other warders, too.
She turned in long before the others, but sleep was evasive that night.
Erion was in the midst of turning over for the umpteenth time when she heard Haglund ask, “What do you think she’ll do?” She stopped moving and focused on listening.
“I’m not sure,” responded Quartan. “I’d love for her to stay, but I think there’s something keeping her away.”
“There is,” said Haglund. “She’s coming around, though.”
Quartan nodded. “I only hope it’s fast enough,” she said.
They lapsed into silence, and Erion heard their beds creaking shortly afterwards. She fell asleep with that conversation in mind.
The harsh shrieking of the intruder alarm cut through Erion’s unremembered dreams. She hurriedly dressed with the other two and ran outside. The snowstorm had intensified, and snow eddied in swirling winds. They looked up. A light gold haze stood out above the treetops maybe a mile away, marking the location of their quarry. They hurried towards the beacon, Erion using thin skis to keep up with the giant strides of her companions.
Their quarry was on foot, and it didn’t take long to catch up in the deep snow. He glanced backwards, catching sight of the three. Still running, he smoothly pulled an already-strung bow off his back, nocked an arrow, and sent it speeding back towards them. Erion saw Haglund dodge to the side with a muttered curse.
Erion was impressed. It wasn’t easy to get off a shot like that while running. He probably wasn’t a magic user, but this would be a dangerous quarry. She absently wondered whether Haglund and Quartan had similar thoughts while chasing her exactly one year ago.
They closed further, alert for the arrows that sliced through the wind with more accuracy than any of them felt comfortable with. The snowstorm was quickly getting stronger, making it hard to keep sight of the man. Their breath formed white clouds that were blown to shreds almost as soon as they formed. And it was cold.
Finally, they closed enough to make their move. Erion signaled to the other two. They understood. She surged on her skis, passing the man off to the side. The other two paced behind, keeping far enough away to dodge the arrows. She reached into her pouch and threw out the same thready material that she used to slow Haglund and Quartan when she was the intended quarry. This time, it had plenty of time to solidify. The man, who hadn’t noticed Erion’s move, didn’t stop soon enough and became hopelessly enmeshed in the thick webbing that had materialized in front of him.
They took him to their central holding area, then returned to their house where they celebrated with ale and fire-toasted cacolat on crackers. The sun was about to crest the horizon when they finally returned to bed.
True to their word, Haglund and Quartan approached her that night. She looked at them, yesterday’s overheard conversation playing in her mind. Good memories from her past life vied with good memories from the last year. Could she give up hope of seeing her old companions? Could she leave her new companions who meant so much to her?
She wavered for a moment, but the prospect of happiness in hand outweighed the uncertainty of returning home. “I will stay,” she said, smiling.
Haglund and Quartan erupted into smiles matching her own, and they celebrated the rest of the night. As news of her decision spread, plans were made for a day of festivities with all the Forest Warders, including Danvil, the man they had captured such a short time ago.
Days passed to weeks, then months, then years. Erion slipped easily into the new life she had chosen for herself. She loved her new job and had the talents to match her passion. It wasn’t long before she was selected to head her own team, and her decisions were increasingly influential in the warder community. Her personal success paced her professional success stride for stride. The friendships she had made during her year as a prisoner only grew stronger, and she met others who passed through the forest or joined warder teams. Danvil was one such person; she found herself spending more and more time with him as she got to know him better. Their friendship blossomed into romance, and they married on the joint anniversary of their capture several years later. She thought of her old friends often, but happiness was hers. Erion was glad she had made the decision to take it.
In a far distant land, a man and wife stood in a dark room. A single candle glowed softly, a list of names just visible in the dim light. They stood arm in arm, contemplating the list that danced in the shadows. Raiders had taken their friends and family from them ten years ago to the day. The wife pointed out a name. “Do you remember her?” she asked with a bittersweet smile.
“Of course,” responded her husband. They lapsed into silence, then extinguished the candle and walked out of the room.
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