Vander Fauston: The Town of Gilneth
My name is Ravidan. Some might know me as Ravidan the Magnificent, or Ravi, but either way, I am a bard, or a storyteller of sorts. I am known as a writer and an artist; that of both ink and note, but I am far better known as the traveling companion to a famous wizard, Vander Fauston. Well, famous in my younger years. He might have fallen into obscurity in the recent years as I am not all too caught up with the latest trends. However, throughout my several decades of adventuring, I have been asked upon many occasions about my time with Vander. And while I originally tried to steer my career away from those exploits, I soon found that enough of my readers were asking the same questions. And so, it is time I decided that I will write this collection of tales about the Traveling Wizard to quench such curiosities for both present and future readers.
Now that I have your attention, the real task is where to start. I could do the overdone thing and start at the very beginning. Talk about how Vander was a small boy, an only child left on the streets when his parents disappeared. How he grew up learning to steal and cheat to get by. This was only made easier by his discovered magical talents and made him part of who he was when I knew him. But I doubt anyone wants to start there. No, I think my readers would want the juicy stuff, especially when I arrive on the scene. But alas, there is the ever-important context. I can hear my mentor now, chastising me for leaving the reader in a deep, blank void without a pebble to stand on.
So, picture, if you will, a massive city, spires that touch the clouds in delicate swirling architecture. Vehicles buzzing overhead, and on the ground, as people make their way onward with their lives. Steam and smoke billow up and dissipate harmlessly thanks to magical engineering. Among them, a smiling man, playfully tossing an apple up and down with one hand. He smiled and nodded to everyone, even bowing to a well-dressed lady while winking. Vander Fauston may not have looked like he was made of money, but he sure did act like he was on top of the world. But not in that pretentious sort of way; no, it was more of someone trying to make the most of life as it was dealt. And it was pretty easy for him to use his charming smile to lift a necklace or two from those richer than half the city.
When the words ‘thief’ or ‘criminal’ filled the air, Vander often found this was the best time to start running. A trained master at misdirection, he would easily outwit the most perceptive guards. An illusion here, a leading sound there. The man was a wizard after all, self-taught and streetwise, he knew how to use their own senses against them. There were a few times, even I was happy he knew those spells.
Once they were evaded, he would make his way back home. Following the tracks west and out of the manicured facades of the market sector to where the polished stone buildings gain more wooden features and less maintenance. A small shack, a blanket in the window nestled in the shadow of the heavy walls, the open sewer filling the middle of the street with an acrid stench. Fauston used to watch the buzzing vehicles bypass his squalid bunker with wonder. He used to tell me that he thought he enjoyed his life, but there was always something that ate at him, gnawed at his soul as he watched people be able to leave that stench-ridden city and go elsewhere.
“I quickly grew tired of the oily air, the sulfur belching factories that made the rich richer, and their pouches easier to cut,” he said to me one campfire. “But there must be more to life than taking from others, right? A way to give without taking, someway.” It was then I knew that he was cut from a different cloth, although he never believed he was. He was always trying to prove he could be better, never settling for where he was. Each victory was something that could have been improved, taking each minor mistake as a sign that he wasn’t there yet. He mentioned the reason in subtle ways a few times, probably hoping that I would miss it or perhaps like most people, politely let it slide by, however, I am someone who prides themselves on the use of words, and my keen ears never let anything that important slip by.
You see, the man was in love, easiest way to say it. He spoke fondly of the woman who had a firm grip on his heart. And not in a good way, more like the grip a puppet master has on strings. Cyndra Caverhill was a self-appointed countess, one of great power despite not having the blood of royalty. She snatched it up as quickly as it became available. Vander saw something in the countess that made him wish he were able to give her his best self. However, even in his fond retelling of her, there were darker intonations within those stories. It wasn’t until much later in our friendship that I learned what really spurred Vander to eventually build up the courage to actually leave that messy city and start his travels.
Two weeks before Vander set out on his journey, he had a dinner with Cyndra. During which, he had a life changing moment. One of those life changing moments where something so profound happened to him that he knew he needed to act. He never knew if he was trying to prove Cyndra wrong or was fighting with his own criticisms of his life choices. Either way, Vander was stubborn enough to march out of the city gates in search of his chance to be what he thought he should be. He traveled from village to village as quickly as he could, reading bounty boards, asking around these hamlets for rumors and hearsay, anything that would need the use of magic to be solved. He did some small jobs: cleaned out a basement or two of small creatures, retrieved a pseudodragon from a tree and even stopped a tavern brawl with the flick of his wrist but it wasn’t how he imagined. While they were all good things, they weren’t enough. He believed they would only make his distant lover chuckle and shake her head and patronize him for his naïve world views.
“Good wizards don’t exist, Vander,” she said during that fateful dinner, swirling the wine in her glass as she lounged in one of her large wooden chairs. He hated those chairs; he always complained about them being stiff, and uncomfortable but she loved them because of how they looked. Her great hall had always felt empty, but the dim candlelight somehow made it feel cavernous, accentuating the constant vacancy he felt there. “Look at you, for example. You have these amazing abilities to warp reality into your own likings and yet you use them as parlor tricks and cons.” She sat up straight, moving her cleaned plate to the side as she folded her hands on the table. She leaned forward to let the flickering light cast intimidating shadows on her elegant face.
“You don’t understand how it works,” Vander said, looking away from her emerald eyes. If he watched too long, he worried he might fall for her natural enchantments again. He’d rather not be convinced into swindling another honest family again, even if they were competitors to the woman that he thought he loved.
“Oh, my love, I do understand,” she purred, her crimson lips curling into a soft smile. She was feigning sincerity; Vander could feel it in his guts. He’d had this sort of sense, a way of reading people that had nothing to do with his magical prowess. At least that was what he was told, and in turn informed me. It took a while, but eventually he came to trust that gut instinct, but for some reason with Cyndra, he ignored it. “I know that you have the power to get us where we need to be,” she pushed her chair back and began to saunter toward the wizard, her dark blue dress pulling and curving with the contours of her body with each long step.
Cyndra was an attractive woman in the traditional sense. High cheek bones, large sparkling green eyes and a smile that could disarm a paladin sworn to celibacy. Long, light-brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders and yet was always done up in some gaudy way that made her seem far more noble than her bloodline would ever allow. The countess was skilled in keeping up appearances. The worst part for most of the people she encountered, Vander included, was that she knew how to use it. She knew exactly what to do or say to turn off the logic in someone and tap into that reactionary primitive part of the brain. But there was more to it. She was ambitious and it was something that Vander admired beyond her beauty. If the countess saw something she wanted, she went after it like a hellhound chasing an escaped demon. It was just her way. But that way clashed with Vander’s, manifesting rifts in their relationship and making his gut rumble in discontent.
Vander scoffed. “What? You want me to cheat someone else out of their rightful earnings?”
Cyndra clicked her tongue in disappointment as she ran a ringed finger along Vander’s shoulder as she passed behind his chair. “Darling, you’re still mad about that? When are you going to let go of those foolish ideals and accept who you really are?”
“My ideals kept me alive,” Vander said trying not to watch her as she leaned against the table in front of him.
“Those ideals almost got you killed, if not for me.”
“So what? You saying I owe you?” Vander said, looking her in the eye, his brows pressing together as anger built in his chest.
“Perhaps,” she shrugged with her bare shoulders. “Or maybe you’re more like me than you’re willing to admit. You take things when you want them, especially when you think that someone doesn’t deserve them.” She tilted her head down as she continued. “What makes that any different than what I do?”
“It’s different, I have…” he trailed off as he searched for something. But the loudest part of him worried she was right. So instead, he scowled at her.
She laughed at him. “You are so cute when you’re mad,” she said as she tapped him on his nose with a finger. “You’re like a scolded child, mad at everyone but the person that got you where you are. Whose decision was it to rob one of my guards, hmm? Yours.”
“I d—"
“But who kept that guard from stringing you up right there in the street?” she continued without letting Vander speak. “I did, and I can throw you right back out there. I can make your life a living hellscape. Because to all those people out there, you are a terrible person. You are a wizard, and you will never be adored by any of them.” She stood, crossing her arms. “You are nothing without me. Besides, it’ll only be a matter of time before you hear that call of power.” She ran fingers along his arm. “That need to make things how you want to see them, then you’ll truly see it my way.”
For a while, Vander believed her. The next week was strange. It was an arduous wave of emotional torture as one moment she was the most supportive person anyone could ever ask for, the next, she was a devil, deviously twisting and misusing his own words against him. Any time he tried to leave; she would find a way to bring him back in. The only thing that changed was whether they were threats or apologies. And it always worked.
Until it didn’t.
Something about that talk ate at him. You could see it in the way he watched the campfire each night. That thousand-mile stare that anyone that is trying to figure out their tumultuous past can recognize. That feeling of being alone even though you’re surrounded by people who love and care for you. He knew he had done some things he was not proud of, but he wasn’t entirely bad. He couldn’t be. He had rules, and he made sure I knew them by heart: never take from those who didn’t deserve it, don’t kill unless it’s self-defense, and, most importantly, do good. If he could just prove to her that he was better than she thought, maybe she would see the error in her own ways. He believed that he could change her, the death sentence in any relationship if you ask me, but he was dead set on it. He spent a week and half of sleepless nights trying to decide whether he could find a way to prove it.
The sign eventually came in the form of a bulletin board set up in the bazaar. A call for mercenaries and adventurers. He would never be so crass as to join up in one of those groups, but the idea stuck with him. Adventurers were always after the money, same with mercenaries. Vander never needed lavish treasures, just enough to get by. He knew then that he needed to get out and use his abilities for something bigger than his own coin purse. He left Cyndra a note on her pillow doing his best to explain his plan. It was written to show that he was not leaving but, instead, he would travel in the hopes of trying to impress her with his actions. And then he packed up what little he had, staff in hand and walked off into the wilderness.
Eventually, he made his way to a small town by the name of Gilneth, nothing but a farm town at the time. Clutching his wooden staff tighter, Vander focused on a pool of energy deep inside him. It was something people like him, wizards and sorcerers, had access to. He urged it out, soaking it into the muscles of his legs. He could feel the energy coursing through his veins as he pushed his will into the energy, shaping it into what he wanted. And in this moment, he wanted to be faster. When he opened his eyes, he felt jittery and antsy, like he had had too many sweets when he was younger. He took off, zipping down the dirt road as a large plume of dust swelled behind him.
People like him were called practitioners by those who performed such magical feats, but they were called much worse names by people who couldn’t. Wizards and sorcerers were hated by mundane people, ever since the Calamity, the terrible world ending event that brought monsters into the world. Accusations have been thrown at the use of magic ever since. But most did not just blame magic, they blamed the people who tried to manipulate it, use it like a tool. But for Vander, he could only shake his head. “Are you gonna blame every blacksmith with a hammer if just one used their hammer one to kill a family?” he used to ask. He was never one to defend the actions of the idiots that brought monsters into the world, but he also was not one to shy away from what he was. Not anymore. He learned very quickly that people were going to judge him as soon as they knew, so he made sure they knew as soon as possible. Other practitioners went into hiding, some turned to anger, but Vander was still young when he tapped into magic. He never made the decisions those before him did, and yet blamed all the same. So, he only focused on his own survival and turned to tricks and cons. They weren’t his best moments but doing them kept him fed and often put a roof over his head. Sometimes that was all that mattered.
He was on the outskirts of town in three seconds flat, a new record for the two miles he just sprinted. He would have been happy to celebrate this feat of magical ability with the family of four, but seeing them covered in ash and soot, gave him pause. They ran toward him but the look of worry and anguish that was splashed across their faces sent a chill down his spine. At first, he took it as the typical looks he would get. But when the young boy being pulled along by his mother looked back with longing despair toward the rising smoke, Vander knew that he had to do something. He rolled up the sleeves of his traveling robes and strode toward the center of town, where he could hear the bestial roaring of a large creature.
Vander had never encountered a chimera before, but after all the stories he used to read in the dim candlelight of dingy taverns, this was not what he expected. The thought of the trio of heads, a lion, a dragon, and a ram always made him chuckle. But the lean, muscular body of the griffon in which they shared made him suddenly feel uneasy. He watched from his spot by the well as a small band of guards faced down the beast, hollering and waving their spears. The beast cared little for their weapons as with one swipe of those long, black talons two of the trained guards were sliced in twain. Adding to the carnage, the dragon head reeled back and blasted the final guard with a torrent of searing flames. When they stopped moving, the beast stalked in and began to consume the bodies. The sick snapping of bones and wet splashes of blood coupled with the unnaturally deep bleating of a ram ruined any sense of humor anyone had about chimeras.
Seeing their moment to escape, a young girl and her younger brother crept out of the rubble of a building. They were dirty, covered head to toe in soot with small clean streaks cutting through the dirt on their cheeks. However, despite their best guesses that this devastating creature was preoccupied, the tail began to hiss and snap like a whip in the direction of the two children. It was at that moment that even I was reminded that whatever god made this creature decided it would be hilarious if it had a snake for a tail. Because, you see, I was there as this scene played out, those children running from their cover only to be stopped as the massive, ten-foot-tall creature turned, its three heads locking onto the then frozen children illuminated by the flames that danced on that section of their former town. The girl screamed and the boy clutched around her waist, a deluge of tears on his cheeks. Both children winced away in anticipation of their violent end. I wanted so bad to run out there and help them, but at that time I was only a minstrel, with nothing but my quill, parchment, and lute.
Vander was much quicker to act. I could see the anger erupt from within him. With a practiced focus, he pooled that anger and mixed it into the energy within him. This time, he forced the energy into his arm, following the bones and into the wooden staff as the round crystal nestled in small branches at the top began to glow with a fiery orange hue. With the spin of his staff, he pointed the burning crystal at the creature and manifested his anger into a volley of three blazing orbs of energy that flung themselves against the creature’s feathery hide. Slamming against the chimera, its weight shifted, but managed to steady itself. The three orbs had found their target, but it wasn’t the amount of damage that Vander had hoped for as he furrowed his brow.
The ram bleated as its glowing yellow eyes locked on the wizard. It was an annoying sound that grated the ears, even the memory scratches at my auditory mind. The other two followed, as the dragon ducked underneath, the lion peered over the top. It turned its full attention on Vander and roared, spreading its large wings in an intimidating display of dominance.
“Well,” Vander said, “at least I got your attention.” He began dipping into the pool of energy again, pouring another volley that interrupted the creature. I called for the kids to get into my hiding place, away from the two that were about to collide. His magic versus the raw power of a creature that never should exist, it would be the ultimate test of all his self-taught abilities. The dragon reeled back in the same way it had before, but unlike the guards, Vander had something to deal with it. With a quick draw from his pool, he summoned forth an invisible barrier in front of him just in time. The torrent came, splashing over the shield and harmlessly spreading around him. However, the heat alone made sweat bead on his face and under his arms.
“Is this the best you can do?” he said as the flames died out.
The chimera was tougher than he imagined, but he had told me, “You can never show your fear, that’s how they catch you.” He had to make it seem the chimera’s main weapon was useless against his magic. He began to smile with confidence. The three heads watched him with savage intent. They saw him as a threat, hunching down in a more defensive posture.
Vander smirked. He paced back and forth, twirling his staff as if knowing there were twelve eyes following his every move. I could see he was buying himself time, building a ploy. His go to fire spell wasn’t having much effect, and so he decided upon a more direct approach. He began pool his energy into his muscles, spreading it through his limbs in an even distribution of strength and speed. He wouldn’t be as fast as when he arrived, but he could lift a carriage over his head without straining too hard. Heroes were always strong, he had told me much later, and always faced their problems head on. It was the only way to prove her wrong.
He charged forward, the energy swelling his muscles as he primed his staff to strike the creature. He swung with all his enhanced might, like a storied legend. Once, twice, three times, he struck the creature. One hit for each head and yet the creature still stood. It recoiled, hopping backward before spinning and slamming Vander in the chest with its scaly snake tail that was as thick as a railroad tie. It was a resounding blow as it sent the wizard soaring and tumbling across the open square.
His lungs burned as all the air left him. His concentration on the spell along with it. He looked frail and weak as he lay there in a narrow trench his body created in the dirt. Despite the pain that must have been surging through him, he pulled himself from the dirt, one clambering motion at a time. He’d taken harder hits before, he convinced me. He accessed the pool once more. He imagined being bigger than the creature, his large hands holding down the chimera like a riled-up puppy. The wizard erupted in height and size as he grew twenty feet in the air. His steps felt heavy and yet dangerous. He was filled with a renewed vigor and he could taste his success in air. His clothes and staff had grown with him, his large hands now holding a tree-trunk sized log in one hand. The chimera was forced to crane its necks to look up at him. I even crawled out to get a better vantage of the action, my quill scribbling as furious as the fighting before me.
Two steps and he was over the creature. He smacked downward with his staff like a sledgehammer, but his new size had made him slower than he anticipated which gave the chimera time to dodge out of the way. He slammed down his staff two more times to the same effect, the last one lodged the weapon into the dirt.
The creature took the opening.
It leapt forward and latched onto Vander’s thigh with intense ferocity that caused the wizard to yelp at the sudden pain. His grip on his staff faltered, shrinking it back to normal as soon as it left his fingers. He was unable to cast any other spells while concentrating on his growth so instead he resorted to smashing his massive knuckles against the dragon’s head while his other hand kept the lion at bay. The ram just looked at him and bleated uselessly. The large wizard pressed his fingers against the vice-like jaws of the dragon, trying his best to get underneath them for leverage. But he would need his other hand. If he let the lion in, he would be stuck in an endless game of prying one head off only to have to do the same for the other. He struggled as blood began to soak into his robes, the pain of the dragon’s fangs digging into his leg began to burn and pulsate.
Suddenly, he pressed his middle finger against his thumb and flicked the dragon’s nose. The beast reeled backward, releasing his leg as the chimera stumbled into a burning building. I asked him about it later. He said he remembered his friend, Garmin. He could see the short bastard in his mind’s eye smiling through his thick red beard, his eyes glazed over by the seventh pint of ale he’d sure have gulped down as soon as it hit the table. “A dog ever latches onto your leg, just bop ‘em in the nose. They’ll let go right quick!”
The building rustled as the creature rolled over, growling, and hissing in anger. Vander stood, chest heaving as he watched the chimera tear down the rest of the building in a display of bestial fury and primal strength. It wasn’t even fazed and yet the wizard was already light-headed. Surely it had to have felt some of the blows he’d landed. Being a hero was harder than the legends made it sound. And abruptly, standing looked even harder. His vision blurred as he began to feel woozy. It was at that time, he remembered why it usually was not a good idea to triple your size. Less oxygen.
It also made him a large target. A brilliant orange ball, as bright as the sun, filled his double vision. Barely raising his arms in time, the ball of fire slammed against him with enough force to send him falling like a felled tree crashing into the barracks, just barely missing my hiding place. Sneaking back out of view, I could not keep myself from the situation for long. I motioned for the kids to stay low as I crawled back to watch the scene with horror as our hero had been wounded. I could see his size returning to normal as the rubble shifted around him in the absence of his previous mass. When he finished reverting, he lay outside again, his head searching in a daze for the creature. His robes were even smoldering from fire, and yet the man was still trying to fight. Black clouds loomed over him and the town like a silent audience to his tragedy.
We could hear the chimera roaring in celebration. It thought that it had defeated the wizard. Vander cursed at himself, seeming to feel foolish for thinking a simple bit of magic strength would counteract his own hubris. He thought of those kids as the creature began to stomp slowly, methodically toward him. He hoped that they made it out alive, at least they would have gotten farther than he did. It was hard to breathe, but whatever scraps of air he could get in made the burning dissipate slightly with each breath. He wanted so badly to go out fighting, but he couldn’t even do that. Lying flat on his back, the world seemed to get heavy. His arms felt like lead, his legs were made of stones, but the heaviest of all were his eye lids. They were so hard to keep open. If he could just rest, he could get away. He chuckled as he realized there wasn’t a spell for that.
He said in that moment, he only thought of Cyndra. “If only she could see me now,” he told me. “She would only be shaking her head.” Perhaps he couldn’t be a hero after all. “Sorry,” he said to no one. Or perhaps, he was saying it to the people he failed to save. His heroics only riled up the monster even more. But he again thought of her. He could hear her voice in his mind. “This was not the time to give up,” she said. I always thought that magic was a mysterious power that needed to be controlled, but that day, I quickly learned that love, just as mysterious can be even more powerful in the right hands. Even though his arms and legs shook in fatigue, his lungs screamed for air and everything hurt he still moved himself to a sitting position. His staff lay near him as he pushed with every fiber of his being to grab it. He said could always feel the location his staff though an invisible yet palpable bond it had to the almost depleted energy inside of him. He forced his hands to move. His fingers walked and moved to weakly grip the wood.
The creature’s chorus of growls echoed in the smokey air. He could hear it thumping toward him. With as much energy as he could muster, he drew from the rest of his pool, taking until it seared his soul in inescapable pain and shoved it into the crystal in his staff. He could barely hold up the staff, barely manage to concentrate as pain kept trying to seep into his mind. His arms struggled to hold the vibrating staff level as he watched the chimera stride toward him with a new air of confidence, assured in its own victory. A talon cut into the exposed dirt, as the lion head licked its fangs. The dragon head tilted its head in a way that reminded him of all the people sneered at him. The ram bleated again.
“Stupid goat,” Vander said. And then released the conjured energy one more time. The heat of the blast scorched his skin, charred his robes. The chimera howled in a chorus of pained creatures as the brilliance of the blast blinded both combatants. The world was silent for a moment, followed by the rush of ringing in his ears. He could feel debris falling on him, dust settling on his face mixing with the blood that was drying on his cheek. He saw the silhouette of the creature, wings spread wide, buffeting of air as it took flight. But he couldn’t tell if it was leaving to prepare to dive bomb him. He didn’t care much either. He’d much rather close his eyes, those heavy eyelids that beckoned him to sleep. He was so tired. Slipping into unconsciousness was the easiest thing he’d done all day.
I took this moment as the beast retreated to pull Vander, with the help of the little girl, back to our hidey hole. We waited for breathless moments. They felt like hours, but time seemed to have stopped. When the tension released, the sun had finally begun to set. Several buildings had been destroyed and there were several missing or dead. However, the menace was at least scared off. We pulled Vander back out into the light, as other townsfolk began to appear out of their own hiding places. The town gathered around, questioning the events that transpired. The children were reunited with their parents, at least another family that can rebuild together.
As for Vander, some of the townsfolk began to accuse Vander of bringing the creature. Others just wanted to get rid of him before he caused more trouble. There were a few that wanted to string him up for causing the Calamity in the first place. However, the children’s parents, and I stood against the tide of hatred. I recounted how this man was not acting in self-interest, but altruism for the safety of the town, and especially these children that he had not known. And yet, despite this, the hatred only continued. It was not until an elderly man and his wife spoke up that people quieted down. The man, I would later learn was Theode, spoke with a soothing deep voice and reasoned with the unreasonable mob, while his wife, Jinelle, checked on the wizard. We eventually dispersed the crowd and Jinelle and I got Vander into their house for some well-deserved rest.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when he awoke, abruptly sitting up on his cot that we actually met. I had fallen asleep on a chair in the corner keeping an eye on his health. His sudden movements made both of us recoil, although for different reasons. The rough feeling of linen bandages rubbed against his skin as he sat up. Even though it was dark, he could see torchlight through the cracks in the wood along the outside walls. Rays of light leaked in from a curtained doorway, its shadow dancing from the candle-lit flame just on the other side. The room was spartan with only a small cot made of crudely cut planks and stretched hemp rope lengths that created a web of support for the pile of furs that made the wizard too warm and the hand-crafted chair I rose from. He shoved them off into a heap as he swung his legs over the edge. His movements were slow and measured by how far he could go before wincing.
“Who—Where am I?” he mumbled, rubbing his head as he looked around.
“You’re in a farmhouse in Gilneth,” I said. “And my name is Ravidan, although everyone calls me Ravi.” I know, no one actually called me Ravi at that time, but it made me sound more interesting. It was a poor decision at the time, but who am I if I leave out my own mistakes? I am nothing but a teller of the truth, it may be embellished at times, but it is the truth, nonetheless.
Someone must have heard him because there were footsteps from beyond the curtain.
Through the curtain came the couple from earlier. Jinelle carried a small wooden tray with wooden plate and utensils. In the light, her dark skin glistened like polished mahogany. She smiled softly as she set the tray next to the wizard before checking his bandages. Theode watched; his square face framed in a white beard with his upper lip and head clean shaven. They wore basic linen clothes and worn leather shoes. This town must have been filled with similar people. Farmers and artisans who were just trying to use their talents to get by. A chimera was just one of many things that kept them from getting to where they needed to be. Vander wondered what kind of work they had been doing before the creature arrived, but after seeing Jinelle’s handy work with bandages, he assumed her to be some kind of town nurse, if a small town even had nurses.
The wafting smells of cooked meat and vegetables filled the wizard’s nostrils as the food lingered next to him. Luckily, I had already had my fill of the stuff or else I might’ve had a growling stomach of my own. He motioned toward it, silently asking for permission to which both new occupants nodded. Snatching up the fork, Vander quickly tried to suppress his hunger with huge slurping gulps of the steaming food. I’m sure he was barely able to notice the taste before it was swallowed down his gullet. From what he got; he would later ask to know the recipe.
“Lamb stew,” Theode said with a smile. His voice was deep and had a pleasing hum to it. “Looks like you liked it, or you haven’t eaten in days.” The man chuckled.
“Oh, pay him no mind,” the woman said shaking her head. “He thinks he’s the worst cook out there.”
Vander looked at him. “Oh, it’s very good,” he said struggling to talk and wolf down food at the same time. His manners were gone in exchange for the need of sustenance.
Jinelle turned and shot Theode a glance. “Told you I wasn’t just saying it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, doesn’t hurt to get multiple outside opinions. Besides, this is the man that scared off that creature.”
“Scared off?” Vander said, straining to swallow the last of the stew. “You mean it’s still alive?”
We all nodded, almost in unison. It was a sullen connection we all had in that moment of silence.
“Unless it flew off and died somewhere else,” Jinelle said. “You put some kind of curse on it?”
Vander looked at her with shock, his mouth hung agape at her question.
“Close that jaw up. Don’t need the flies getting in there,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “You don’t have anything to fear from us. Everyone here knows you’re a wizard.”
“And a hero,” Theode added. “Gods must have sent you our way.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Vander said scratching the back of his head. “Guess I’m just not used to—this kind of hospitality, is all.” He chuckled awkwardly.
“Come on, son,” the man moved over and sat on the cot. “This town hired a whole troop of mercenaries who turn tail and ran when that creature so much as bellowed in their direction. You, having no reason to look out for us Gilnethans risked your own life to stop that thing’s rampage.” He clapped Vander on the back with a big hand, almost knocking the wind and stew out of him. “Sounds like a hero to me.”
“Uh, happy to help,” Vander said, unsure of his words. Part of him felt good hearing the word hero, but the other part of him felt like he didn’t do anything as great as this man made it sound. But he knew it was not real. He hadn’t killed the creature, or at least ended this town’s misery. It wouldn’t be enough. “I just—not to sound like I am being a pessimist or anything,” he said, dropping his head. “But it just seems like that thing will just come back when I am gone. It’s not over yet.”
Theode nodded.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay,” Jinelle said, standing up as she cleaned her hands on her pant legs. “You’d have to do work around here, but I’m sure we could manage.” She looked at Theode with a gesturing look.
“Oh, yeah, I can show you around—”
“Thanks, and all, but I need to keep moving,” Vander said. “I need to…” he trailed off. “Actually, I think there is a way we can both be happy. Is there a larger town nearby? Maybe with a library or…”
The two townsfolk looked at each other.
“Well,” Theode began slowly, rubbing his hands together. “There was. Had the largest library ever known.”
“You ever heard of Nathkirin?” the woman said. Vander shook his head as she continued. “A few decades ago, Nathkirin was a sort of hub for knowledge and mechanical marvels, but they upset the wrong people and, well, those people came and burned down everything. Everything except the library.”
“The Great Library of Nathkirin,” the old man said, his eyes wandering toward the ceiling lost in memory. “If you needed any information on anything, it was surely there.”
Vander rubbed his chin. “Seems like I need to pay this library a visit.”
“I-I don’t think you’re understanding us, son,” Theode said, running a hand over his head in a self-soothing motion. “That library ain’t been used in years. Rumor has it a creature stalks its halls.”
“Even better,” Vander said, a determined look washing over him. He could find information there, and if he were lucky, the chimera could be staying there too. “Are either of you good with maps?” He moved to his backpack, pulling out a rolled-up parchment and flattened it out on the cot. It was roughly drawn but had key roads and landmarks strewn across it with small notes that Vander had been making along the way.
“I been around a few,” Jinelle said. “Was a scout for the Falrion Guard before I…” she motioned toward her house as an attempt to explain everything. She looked it over, running her finger across the inked surface. She followed the road from the west, finding her place with precision. Then her finger moved northeast, up into a stretch of hand drawn trees and tapped twice. “It’d be up there.”
With charcoal already in hand, Vander quickly made a note on the parchment map. Vander explained he would leave first thing in the morning and deflected their worries with words of reassurance and comfort. He would be back, he promised them, and he would give them a way to defend themselves from creatures. It would take a little engineering, a little magic, and a whole lot of sweat, but he could get this town into a safer position. I offered to accompany him, chronicle the journey for prosperity. Little had I known that I would spend the next decade traipsing all over Falrion with the man, but such is life. You go to write a simple book and it turns into a whole career.
We left just before the sun broke out over the mountains, its rays splashing across the bottom of the clouds with enough light that it was safe to travel again. Vander was ready and felt far more eager than he had been when he first left his home. I think we both did. I could feel the excitement building within him. He had a direction. He had a purpose once more. And, with my help, we would prove that he was a good person, even though he was a wizard. And that is how I came to be introduced with the Traveling Wizard. I hope you have enjoyed this tale, but fear not, as there are many more tales to tell, this was only just the beginning.
