Bound to the Abyss Page 4

  A few more people were given the chance to speak after the Mayor, just a few of Lane’s closest friends and family, and then the fire was lit. With the sun almost set, the light of the flames covered the crowd in a warm orange glow. Complete silence fell over the crowd as many members of their small community knelt and offered up their silent prayers. Most would be offering their prayers up to Kaz’ren, goddess of the Soul and Afterlife, but it wasn’t uncommon for anyone to pray to their patron god/goddess as well. Ean wouldn’t have been surprised if each of the six gods/goddesses received at least one prayer that day. None of them would receive a prayer from him, though.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in them. With his connection to the Abyss, a place created by the god, Ze’an, he would be a fool to believe that the others did not exist. No, Ean wouldn’t be praying to the gods, BECAUSE they exist. They exist, and do nothing. How often did prayers to the deities go unheard when the fields produced little food? Or when a child died of a sickness that not even the Rottwealth plants could heal? Or when someone’s parents drank too much and ended up almost ruining an entire village? Ean didn’t bother praying to the gods and goddess, because in his mind, they didn’t bother to listen.

  Five members of the village guard wouldn’t be giving their prayers either. This very morning, the monster had snatched up a few of the sheep that grazed in the southeast fields, terrifying the two villagers that had been tending them. The description they gave of the monster matched the one Allie had given, making the Mayor finally agree that it was more than a bear that had taken up residence in their valley. The members of the village’s guard were absent, having been placed by the Mayor in a position to the south to keep an eye out for the creature. None of the guards had gotten close enough to try looking in the mine or foreman’s cabin, but the complete lack of any remaining bodies told its own tale. The foreman certainly wouldn’t be receiving the same funeral rites as Lane. As a precaution, the Mayor had declared the entire southern section of their valley off limits, which included the bog. That didn’t exactly sit well with Cleff. Most of the plants they used came from the bog.

  When the fire started to die down, the villagers got up and started talking amongst themselves. It was a somber affair, with all of those gathered moving about and talking in small groups to those with whom they were closest. Allie stayed close to the fire, talking to anyone that came over briefly but spent most of her time staring into the flames alone. Ean was alone as well, standing in between various groups of people, not sure what to do. No one was going to come up to speak to him, after all. He could sneak away and get home, maybe spend some time with the Abysmal Tome or just get to bed early, so he would be nice and rested for a change. Even with the bog closed, Cleff was sure to have a variety of chores planned out for him.

  Letting out a silent sigh, Ean began to walk in Allie’s direction. She had shown him that small bit of compassion, something that he certainly wasn’t used to other than from Jaslen and Bran. She more than deserved to receive his condolences. Of course, he received dirty looks from other members of the village as he approached her but he ignored them. Let them think what they wanted.

  “I’m sorry about your husband,” he said as he reached her. Allie had her back to him, her full attention on the fire. She didn’t respond at first, and Ean was about to turn and leave when she spun around and immediately embraced him.

  “Thank you, Ean. Thank you for trying your best to save him.”

  Ean felt the blood rush into his cheeks. “Yes, of course. I mean, Cleff did most of the work. I was just there to help.”

  “I still appreciate it.” She squeezed him once then pulled away. They both stood there for a few moments in silence until another villager walked over. The man shot Ean a dark look before stepping in between him and Allie. The man probably thought he was saving her from Ean. That was fine. Ean knew the truth.

  Turning his back on Allie and the diminishing flame of the funeral pyre, Ean headed home.

  EIGHT DAYS AFTER THE funeral, word reached the Healer’s home that a man calling himself “Hero” had arrived in the village. The appearance of anyone from outside of their valley was a rare thing in Rottwealth, and so the whole town was abuzz with excitement. Ean heard that the Hero had arrived in the middle of the night and took up lodging in the Mayor’s inn. Ean had wanted to go see this new visitor right away, but of course, Cleff had him performing various chores around the house that took up most of the day.

  The old man had been difficult to deal with since the bog had been declared off-limits, his main source of income from the various healing items he could make from the Rottwealth plant and others found there being cut-off. Of course, this meant that Ean took the brunt of the man’s frustration, which in turn meant he was put to work both in menial tasks around the house and had to spend more time studying the intricacies of being a Healer. The studying he didn’t really mind, but there were only so many times you could wash the same set of empty jars.

  The sun was already high in the sky by the time Ean was finally set free. Zin had already left earlier in the day. Most days the imp lazed about in Ean’s room or wandered around the village looking for a stray rat to eat, leaving Ean alone for most of the day. When Ean was finally finished with his chores, he left his home and followed the village’s gravel road north past the small amount of open space to where the edge of the village actually began. A collection of a few dozen small wooden homes, Rottwealth village would probably be considered quaint by outsiders. The main gravel road ran north from Cleff’s home and casually curved east as it divided the village in half. Cleff’s two-story home and shop, as well as the inn owned by the Mayor, were the only distinguishable buildings in the village; the rest of the homes looked relatively the same, lining both sides of the street. There were two or three rows of homes on each side, one row behind the other, with the last row on either side almost completely surrounded by farmland. Ean moved down the street as fast as he could, passing the open field of the town square on the right as the road curved and finally reached the end of the village where the inn resided on the left.

  The inn, named The Golden Coin by the Mayor’s grandfather, was a large two-story building made of simple stone and wooden planks and painted a light yellow. Two small steps at the entrance led up onto a porch where many of the villagers could often be found, enjoying both a drink and a cool breeze that blew down out of the mountains. The inn was the first building a traveler would see following the road into the village, if the village received visitors. Its large sign depicting a few coins spilling out of a mug was hard to miss.

  As Ean approached the large building, he could hear the sounds of merriment coming from inside. The actual appearance of a visitor was such a rarity that it wouldn’t be surprising if many of the villagers had put off work for the day so that they could take a look at a new face. Hopping up the steps, Ean crossed the porch and pushed his way through the swinging doors that led inside.

  On the inside, the main entrance opened into the tavern where the Mayor’s wife was most often behind the bar along the far wall. From her central position, she served drinks, directed the servers to the various tables that littered the room, and directed Togh, the inn guard, to remove anyone attempting to catch a nap at a table or cause trouble. A stairwell sat in the back near the bar, leading up to rooms that were never used. Three doorways led out of the main hall: one going back into the kitchen, another leading into where the Mayor and his family lived, and the last being the doorway leading out to the back where patrons could relieve themselves.

  Just as Ean expected, the tavern section of the inn was overflowing with people. All of the circular tables were full, as were the seats at the bar, with the majority of people crowded around one particular table. Having the advantage of being thin and lanky, Ean moved in and out of the crowd until he was almost right next to the table where he assumed this Hero was sitting. What he found there was certainly not what he expected.

 
; The “Hero” was a large fellow, although not in a muscular sort of way. His size seemed to strain both the chair he was lounging on as well as the one on which his feet were resting. He had short stubby hair, a large nose, and a beard that contained flecks of food and was soaked with ale. His leather armor barely seemed to fit his body, as pieces of fatty skin seemed to poke out at every opening, and his round stomach extended past the bottom. He wore two short swords on either side of his waist and a sheathed knife across his chest. All in all, he looked more like a common thug, a grown up version of Krane, except for a strange sparkling green stone on a necklace that hung around his blubbery neck.

  The Hero's name was Lathan Riley. By the time Ean was able to maneuver close enough to hear what was being said, the man was in the middle of a story about how he had faced down five bandits by himself in order to protect a caravan of helpless women. As Ean listened half-heartedly to what he believed to be a vast exaggeration of what probably actually happened, he looked around at the other villagers.

  Every face of those gathered around was clearly caught up in the story; their eyes locked on the man, expressions turning to awe as he described the battle and his victory over the bandits, with both the men and women chuckling as he went into detail about how the women of the caravan rewarded him for his efforts. The only expression on Ean’s face was disbelief. All of these people that he had known the majority of his life were looking at this stranger as if he was some kind of king!

  “Caught up in the story, too?” said a female voice that Ean instantly recognized as belonging to Jaslen. “It is quite exciting to have an actual Hero here, isn’t it?”

  “Uh,” Ean’s tongue froze whenever Jaslen was around. The way her bright red curls fell about her shoulders, in contrast with her forest green eyes, stunned his senses. Come on, Ean. She is one of the few people in this town that’s always been nice to you. Don’t act like an idiot. Heat rose to his cheeks as he pulled himself together. “I…he…the Hero doesn’t seem all that impressive to me, Jaslen.”

  Realizing he had stopped talking and was just staring at her, he blushed. “I mean, uh… he barely fits into his armor,” he said, trying to recover. “How is he going to fight something as horrible as the beast looking like that?”

  Jaslen laughed in response, the sound happy and full of life. “Oh, Ean, you always look at the negative side of things. So what if he doesn’t look like the way a warrior is expected to look? I, for one, don’t care if he eats the mayor out of house and home as long as he can get rid of the beast. My poor father has been a wreck worrying about his crop. You know our plot is in the area the Mayor has said is off limits. If the Hero kills the beast and Father can get back to work, hopefully there won’t be too much damage to our first harvest this year.”

  “Well, of course, that would be great. I wouldn’t want your father to lose the harvest. Maybe I am wrong and this Hero is more than he seems.”

  “I hope so,” she replied, turning her attention back to the Hero’s story. “Bran has been talking about trying to take the beast down himself.” Ean wasn’t surprised; any conversation with Jaslen eventually turned into one about Bran. “From the story I’ve heard from poor Allie, I don’t think Bran would have a chance to survive against that creature. A shame, her losing her husband that way.” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around her body. “I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I lost Bran.”

  “I’m sure Bran would be fine. After all, if I was able to escape the creature, then I’m sure someone as wonderful as Bran could as well.” Ean had meant the comment to be a backhanded insult towards Bran, but his mouth snapped shut after he realized what he had actually said.

  “Ean, stop making up stories,” Jaslen said, giving a little laugh afterwards. “You know you don’t need to act all tough around me.” She looked at him for a moment then her eyes opened wide. “You didn’t really see it, did you?”

  Now Ean was stuck. He could lie and say she was right and that he hadn’t seen it. If she believed him, then she would go back to thinking of him as her weak little friend. Or he could tell her the truth, well, most of the truth and possibly impress her. Unless she didn’t believe him and then would just pity him more for feeling, in her opinion, the need to lie. Either way, he could possibly make things worse. After a moment of thought, his heart won out.

  “I did, the very same night that Lane was attacked.” Pausing to look around the crowded room, he gently took a hold of her arm. “I don’t want to talk about it here in front of other people. Can we go outside? I promise to tell you what I saw.”

  She nodded, her wide eyes and slight grin showing her excitement. Ean led her back through the crowds and outside of the inn. They moved across the main street, finally stopping in one of the alleys between a few homes. From their spot, the roar of the crowd in the inn could barely be heard.

  “All right, we’re alone.” Jaslen said, pulling her arm away from Ean. “Now tell me everything! And I swear, Ean, if you are just making this up, I am going to be furious at you!” She placed her hands on her hips and was looking at Ean as if she already expected him to lie.

  Ean took a quick look around, more for dramatic effect than actually thinking anyone would be close enough to hear. Then he told her what had happened that night, leaving out the parts about Zin and his magic. Jaslen listened until the story was finished then shook her head. “I don’t know, that sounds a little hard to believe. Plus, how you described the creature was different than how Allie described it.”

  “She was frightened at the time,” Ean said defensively. “Plus, she was a good distance away from it. I actually got up close to it, well…” Stuttering a bit, he ran a hand through his dark hair. “It got up close to me, but either way, I was still close.”

  Jaslen shook her head at him. “I don’t know, it’s still hard to believe that this thing could kill a few of the other villagers and swipe up some sheep so easily, but you were able to get away…” She frowned as she trailed off, and Ean’s heart sank. He had to do something to prove to her that he was telling the truth, but what?

  “I’ll take you to see it! When the Hero goes to fight it!”

  Ean immediately regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. What was he saying?! He should have stopped there and just accepted that she wasn’t going to believe him. Accept the increase in pitying looks she sometimes gave him. It’s not like he had a chance with her anyway; she was head over heels for Bran. Ean should just let this go… but he couldn’t.

  “When the Hero goes, I can sneak the two of us around the edge of the bog so we can get a good view. No one will know that we’re there, and if things go bad, we can easily escape through the bog. Then you could see for yourself that I was telling the truth.” The last few words left his mouth in a rush. When it was done, he just watched her, hoping for any kind of positive reaction.

  She continued to frown, then turned and started pacing in front of him. “We could get in a lot of trouble, Ean. Whether or not you’re telling the truth, if we get caught out there, we’ll be in a cart full of trouble.” She continued pacing, seeming to be talking more to herself than to him. “Plus, if you haven’t been telling the truth, then who knows if we would be able to safely get away if the Hero were to fall to the beast.”

  “I am telling the truth, Jaslen!” Ean blurted out. “Please let me prove it to…”

  His plea was interrupted by a laugh he quickly recognized. It filled him both with a mixture of anger and dread all at the same time. Turning around, he found Krane leaning against the corner of one of the buildings, laughing at him.

  “You, Ean? Tell the truth? What a fantastic joke.” Krane continued to laugh, although the humor was not reflected in his squinting eyes. “You never tell the truth. You’re just trying to impress my brother’s girl, but even she sees right through your lies.” Pushing himself off the wall, Krane approached them.

  “Knock it off, Krane,” Jaslen growled, stepping between Ean and the other b
oy. “I won’t let you go around bullying whoever you wish. Especially someone much weaker than you.” That caused Ean’s shoulders to slump in disappointment. Did Jaslen really think he was weak? Ean had to do something to prove he wasn’t a weakling, even if it ended in another beating. Stepping around Jaslen, he glared at Krane while clenching both of his hands into fists.

  “I’m not scared of Krane, Jaslen.” Ean said, slightly turning his head to see her, but keeping one eye on Krane. “He’s not so tough without his friends to back him up and without a weapon. He’s just a giant windbag.”

  “I’d watch what you say, rodent,” Krane said between clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t mind spending a few more days in the stocks if it meant I got to break some more of your bones.”

  “You can go ahead and try, you fat piece of…” he stopped as Jaslen placed a hand on his arm and yanked him backwards.

  “Enough of this!” she yelled, looking back and forth between the two boys. “I expected this kind of tough-guy attitude from Krane, but don’t you start as well, Ean.” She turned completely now to face Ean, looking him straight in the eyes. Oh, how Ean could get lost in those eyes. “Don’t sink to his level; you’re better than that.”

  Ean looked at her for a time then looked away and nodded. “I guess you’re right, I…”

  A sudden blow to his stomach doubled Ean over and forced him to his knees.

  Jaslen, who still had a hold of his arm, sank with him as Krane pulled his back from Ean’s gut. Once Jaslen regained her balance, she turned on Krane from her kneeling position. “You’re nothing but an animal. I’m going to let Bran know what you did then we’ll see how tough you are.”

  Krane grunted then gave the girl a smirk. “You’re not going to tell him anything. I promise if he hears one word of this, I’ll make sure that little Ean is recovering in bed for an entire season next time I get a hold of him. So you just keep your little mouth shut.”