Garrick strapped to the table, Jarathus stands over him menacingly. His facial features are obscured by the shadows created by the fire, except for a long, twisted smile stretching from ear to ear that pokes through the veiled darkness.
"You are the culmination of my life's labour. You'll never get away from me!" He cackles, his face inches away from Garricks, as he inserts his arm into his stomach and pulls out a black viscous ooze. Garrick tries to scream, but his mouth has vanished. He attempts to move, wide-eyed, the metal restraints jaggedly ripping into his wrists and ankles, causing them to bleed.
"You will lose this battle." Jarathus bellows.
Garrick's features have all faded away, leaving only a blank canvas writhing on the table, the runes brightening more intensely.
"Xurenghuul," echoes a disembodied voice.
Garrick gasps for air as his eyes bolt open, locking his gaze on the wooden carriage's roof, sweat collecting around his entire body. He rubs his brow with the back of his hand and discovers bandages covering his upper torso up to his neck. He sits up and leans against the carriage's side, the gentle bumps of the road calming him.
"It appears you're finally awake for good," a voice from Garrick's left says.
"You were in and out of consciousness for a while there. You seemed restless, but I figured some sleep is better than none."
Garrick twists his head to see a gnome on the carriage's front, reins in hand, controlling the carriage. Large nose, with light brown hair and his long beard glistening as the sun hits it.
"You're still with me, young man?" The gnome chirps more loudly.
"Uh, yeah, sorry." Garrick responds sluggishly.
"Sorry? Nothing to apologise for; you protected me from those goons! I'm in your debt!" The gnome lively says.
Garrick recalls the events with the thugs with difficulty, a headache developing as he winces in pain as he tries to remember.
"You should rest for a while; you were badly hurt back there." I did my best to wrap you up, but I'm not really a doctor."
Garrick inspects the bandages a little closer. A bit uncomfortable but good enough for him.
"Don't worry, it's fine; you did a good job." Garrick says with a slight smile, the first moment of peace in a month.
"That's very kind of you to say. You're a mage, right? Do you know about healing magic?" the gnome inquires.
"Me? A mage? I'm not very good at it; I'm much better with a sword. "Magic didn't work for me." replies
"Not good at that stuff? You seemed pretty good with the lightning last night, but you hurt yourself badly. Nonetheless, it's quite impressive...Oh, there's some food over there in that basket if you're feeling peckish, too." The gnome says.
An occasional streak of daylight enters the carriage.
Garrick rushes to the opposite end of the carriage, tears off the basket cover, and is greeted by cooked meats, bread, and cheese. Everything smells fantastic, as though the best cooks prepared the food for his needs. Garrick doesn't waste any time diving into the food, each bite bringing ecstasy and an abundance of drool.
"You're quite the hungry one, aren't you? The gnome says with a giggle. "Plenty of food there, so take your time and enjoy it."
Garrick takes a painful gulp, attempting to swallow a mass of food in his mouth. It slides down with effort as he takes a breath.
"It's been a while since I last ate. Right now, this is heaven to me." Garrick says through each bite, the gnome struggling to understand him.
"Could you please pass me a piece of that bread? "I'm starting to feel peckish myself." the Gnome giggles.
Garrick drops the food he holds tightly in both hands, picks up a piece of fresh bread, and delivers it to the gnome.
"Thank you very much, young man. By the way, my name is Lanlin Meetlemire. We haven't got an opportunity to get to know each other yet." Meetlemire gives a modest wave to Garrick.
Garrick pauses for a moment before realising he should respond with his name.
"I'm Garrick Goldwind. Sorry, I'm not all there yet; how long have I been out?" He inquires, albeit hesitantly.
"Quite alright, and I'd say about twelve hours." Meetlemire responds with a friendly smile.
"I need to get to Darow; are you heading that way?" asked a hopeful Garrick.
"My friend, you're in luck. I'm heading down to Volmyr, so Darow is a short detour. It'll be a good area for me to rest and resupply. It should only take a few days from where we are." Meetlemire happily replies.
"That's great news. I could use that right about now." Garrick sighs in relief and reclines.
"So you're some kind of mage?" "Are you a member of the guild?" Meetlemire inquires inquiringly.
"The Order of the Legion? I work for them, but I'm only a journeyman rank. Only just passed a year of service."
"How about I hire you to get us safely to Darow?" I could certainly benefit from the protection." Meetlemire laughs.
"I'll do my best, but I'm missing all my gear." He reacts hesitantly.
Meetlemire bounces slightly and slaps his forehead before pointing backwards into the carriage, realising he forgot to mention something to Garrick.
"Try looking under one of those blankets back there." I took the initiative to take a sword and gear from those criminals after you killed them. "I'm not sure if the armour will fit you, but I bet the sword will be handy."
Garrick pulls down the blanket to reveal a longsword and shield. Both are heavily worn and chipped, indicating heavy use. The sword is made of plain metal and has a leather grip. The shield is similar, with a round wooden face, a metal trim around the edge, and a leather handle on the back to hold it to the arm.
"I'm best with a sword, so this is pretty good." Garrick says, pleased.
"Then I guess more luck has come your way, Garrick." Meetlemire answers with delight.
Garrick places the weapon to the side and examines the protective gear—leather tunic, trousers and boots. The gear is covered in dried muck, with scrapes and nicks. Garrick looks closer and discovers a small slit in the chest, barely large enough for a blade to pass through, with dried blood inside. He recalls the thug he stabbed while they yelled for Balrin.
"Balrin?" He thinks, "Must have been one of the other thugs."
"The sun is setting, Garrick. I think camping here tonight will be the best option." Meetlemire suggests.
Garrick dons the leather gear as the carriage slowly draws to a halt. It fits reasonably well; however, it needs a good scrub. He carefully steps out the back of the vehicle, gripping onto the side for support to not worsen his wounds.
Once safely on the ground, he looks upwards toward the forest canopy.
"Sunset is always the best time here." Garrick says content.
"I would have to agree" Meetlemire responds.
When the setting sun hits the vibrant crimson leaves just right, they appear to shimmer. It transforms into a fairy tale setting.
"Very beautiful. Even better as it stays like this year round." Meetlemire adds.
Garrick finds tranquillity when night falls on the camp, the almost soothing nightlife of creatures among the trees and greenery.
Garrick and Meetlemire are sitting close to a campfire, a saucepan simmering away, its lid bouncing on top.
"Do you travel a lot, Meetlemire?" Garrick asks.
"Very rarely. My parents don't like me travelling long distances, probably for good reason now." He rubs his head with a little chuckle mingled with concern.
"Are you going to tell them what happened?" Garrick inquires.
"Most definitely not!" Meetlemire declares loudly.
"I love my parents, but if I told them what happened, they'd make me move to Volmyr, which I don't want!" My home is Epoch Bastion. I'd hate to move my wife and children down there." Meetle says commandingly before settling back down.
"It's nice that they care because no matter how annoying family can be, they are still family." Garrick says gently with a warm smile.
"Yeah, I suppose you're correct. "Do you have any relatives?" Meetlemire asks as he stirs the food in the pan.
"I used to, but not any longer." Nothing awful happened; my parents just got ill and died. They didn't have any other kids before they passed." Garrick solemnly says this, but he quickly shrugs it off.
"My problems make me sound pretty ungrateful now" Meetlemire says.
"I didn't mean for it to come across like that-"
Meetlemire interjects as Garrick tries to speak.
"I'm just playing around, don't worry." He chuckles. "What's the plan for you once you've rested in, Darow, if you don't mind me prying?"
Garrick looks off into the distance, lost in thought.
"I need to speak with the guild envoy. They sent me on a job, and I didn't get all the details."
"You think they purposely kept information from you?" intriguing Meetlemire.
"Without a doubt. I need to figure out who." Garrick intensely stared off into the distance.
Meetlemire removes the pan lid, stirs it with a wooden spoon, and then returns it.
"I'm assuming the job went poorly based on your expression?" Meetlemire inquires cautiously.
"Yeah. Really bad." Garrick responds.
Meetlemire opens his mouth to speak, then waits a moment before responding.
"I won't pry any further. If all goes as planned, we should reach Darow by tomorrow evening. So let's unwind and have some food by this roaring fire." Meetlemire is attempting to restore a pleasant atmosphere.
Garrick is mesmerised by the fire, the background noise becoming quieter as the crackle of the fire becomes louder and louder, hammering like a drum in his ears. He spots a fireplace on his left, about five feet away, quickly recognising it as the one from the experimentation room. He looks at it for a moment, lost in thought, before shaking his head and snapping out of it.
He looks toward Meetlemire, who is stirring the pan and having a smell of the soup, clearly not noticing Garrick's 'incident'.
"Is the soup done yet?"
Garrick asks, attempting to focus on something other than his thoughts.
"I'd say it's as good as it'll get. A nice bowl of soup on a breezy night is delicious." Meetlemire grins as he pours two bowls of soup, the steam floating around the soup giving it a magical feel.
They both take a heaped spoon and slurp it down. After a few seconds, the warmth hit their bellies, and they both let out an audible "Ahhh." in delight at the delicious soup.
"You're right on the money; this soup was a good choice." Garrick beams.
Time passes, and the fire dies down slightly. Garrick throws another log onto the fire.
"I think it's time to hit the hay; the sooner we can get to Darow, the better." Garrick states.
"At dawn, we'll be on our way." Meetlemire replies as he walks toward his tent.
Garrick lies down by the fire and closes his eyes, hoping for a pleasant sleep free of nightmares, but he knows it won't happen.
End Chapter