Index – Chapters
The Road
The Town
The Crossroad
The Monastery
Dawn spilled into the valley. Above the chorus of birds, the raging waterfalls, and the growl of the wind, there was a bare stone bluff facing out into the emptiness. Upon the bluff sat a man. He felt the roil of the world beneath him, but he took comfort knowing that all was one. He was the wind that gusted, and the leaves that were snatched away. He was the waves which crashed, and the rock which broke them. Yet, under the calm, in a dark corner of his awareness, there was something wrong. Jagged and irregular, it irritated him, it was unmoving in the flow of things.
He looked to the strange beast which followed him. He felt as though he’d tried everything. Feeding it, not feeding it, asking it to go, throwing things at it, hiding, running. None of them worked. The beast followed him. It followed him deep into the wilderness, over mountains and valleys he had never known. He felt it, clinging to him like a thorn. Rubbed raw into a wound. Infected.
He stood, eyes locked on the beast, and his irritation turned to anger. He yelled “I wish you’d jump!” Slowly, the beast turned it’s snout toward the man. It met his gaze with a placid stare. It’s eyes glistened in the morning sun, like shallow rock pools. They held the man, unchanging, blank. Suddenly twisting away, the man said “yeah, well, better keep moving.” He began climbing down the bluff, on the path toward the road.
The first sign of humanity came from a large pile of excrement in the middle of the road. The man saw it was horse, and there were cart tracks on either side. The beast lowered it’s nose to the pile for several moments. The man watched carefully as the beast’s ears flattened against it’s head, before it’s mouth opened and began to move toward the pile. The man quickly struck the beast on the snout with his walking stick, and the beast stopped moving. It did not otherwise seem to acknowledge the strike, as if it were considering trying again. Yet, a moment later it withdrew it's snout, apparently of it’s own volition. “Disgusting” muttered the man, as they continued along the path.
The second sign came to them as distant music. Something jaunty and unpracticed, slipping in and out of time as it filtered through the trees. The man tried to hum along, but the flutist could not hold a tune. The man looked at the beast, it’s nose was aloft, and it’s focus seemed to be elsewhere. It still held it’s ears half-back, as if watching something unseen. The man was anxious, and moved into the forest to follow alongside the road.
The third sign came when the caravan appeared in brief glimpses through the trees. Soon it was in full view as they were gaining on it rapidly. The horse must be exhausted. The man saw that the caravan was packed full. Door frames, bed posts, jackets, rugs, weapon racks, looms, barrels, pots and pans all loomed precariously from the back of the creaky wooden wagon. Men and women clung to the sides and back. There were children riding on various parts. A small boy sat erect on the top of the cab, watching the world. Whenever that thing struck a pothole in the road, the whole construction wobbled and swayed. Small items, cutlery, and bits of wood fell down and rolled off the side of the road, disappearing into the forest.
The man was unsure if he should approach the caravan. He was going somewhere, so he could ask for directions, but he felt his instinct had sufficed until now. Better avoid the risk. The man’s legs carried him onto the network of deer paths which crisscross any woodland. The beast followed. As they neared the caravan, they both began to move quietly, in hunters synchrony. The caravan trundled precariously forward, it’s occupants laughing and talking. An older man rejoiced, as he had located the ale. Soon the off-time music started up again, the boy on top playing a small wooden flute. The caravan vanished behind the trees.
The man heard the sounds of the forest. Wind in the leaves, bird calls, rustling in the undergrowth. Man and beast in green and silent shadow. As the trail curved, the man began hearing muted sounds of music and clanking. At first from the side, but slowly moving behind them. The path ahead forked. One side seemed to head back onto the road, and the other went deeper into the forest. He looked to the beast, a barely visible shape in the foliage. It’s expression was blank.
Looking back toward the sounds of the caravan, the man followed the path until he could see the road. Still hidden in the trees, he saw that the caravan was close now. With the horse at the front, pulling the whole ensemble. An old gray thing, huffing and foaming under the strain of its masters burdens. He felt sorry for the animal. He took a deep breath.
The man stepped out into the main path with a loud call. “You could be robbed, traveling like that!” The caravan came to a sudden halt. The music paused. All eyes transfixed on the man. Then, a voice called out “who the hell are you?”
Before the man could say, the beast came forward from out from the woods. A shrill scream came from the back of the caravan, and everyone began to move. The driver started whipping the horse and yelling, yanking the reins to one side. The children scrambled and fell. The people clinging to the sides jumped down and frantically rummaged through the heap of possessions. The man stood stunned, watching the confusion, until his eyes fell on the pitiable horse.
Whipped, driven, exhausted, the poor beast embraced the strikes of the driver without reaction. The man heard a strange sound from behind him. Then, a blur of black as the beast, low to the ground, moved toward the caravan. For a moment, the horses eyes flashed terror, but when the beast sunk it’s fangs into the horses neck, that spark too, departed.
The man could hear shouting and crackling branches in several different directions, while two more caravaneers ran back up the road. The beast was tearing strips of flesh from the felled horse and swallowing them whole. The man lay a hand on its blood-soaked haunch. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” He said. The beast continued it’s feast, ignoring him. The man looked around at the newly quieted road, then at the horse beneath the beast. He softly admitted “maybe it’s better this way.”
That evening, the man and beast camped by the side of the discarded caravan. The man had taken the legs from a table as firewood. He watched as the beast, engorged on raw horse carcass, laying solemnly by the fire. He roasted steaks above the flame. He saw the beasts ears twitch, and it’s head rose. He followed it’s gaze, then he heard a small voice.
“I’m hungry. Please don’t eat me” It said. The voice belonged to a young boy. He stood on the edge of the firelight, holding a broken flute. The man looked over and said “I won’t eat you.” The boy was crying. He approached and asked if he could have some food. The man gave him some. The boy asked why he attacked them. “I didn’t attack you” said the man. The boy asked why he robbed them. “I didn’t rob you. The cart is still here.” Said the man. The boy asked why he killed their horse. The man said “I didn’t do that.”
The boy pointed an accusatory finger at the form of the beast, still resting by the fire. He demanded the man answer: wasn’t the beast his? The man said it wasn’t his. The boy told the man he must give have ordered it to kill the horse. The man said he did not, he doesn’t order the beast. The boy said he must lead it. The man shrugged. He said “No, I don’t lead it, but it follows me. I’ve tried to get rid of it so many times. I’m trying to find out why it follows me, and how to make it leave. It finds it's own food.”
The boy looked puzzled, and sat with the man, chewing on the meat. After a while he said “it’s dangerous”. The man nodded. The boy asked how long it had been following the man. The man said “I think I can remember a time before. When I was free to go as I pleased. But it was so long ago, and my memory is so hazy, it could be only a dream.”
They sat a while, eating the roasted horse. The beast slept soundly. It’s huge form curled in a ball beside the fire. Then the boy asked “has it ever tried to eat you?” The man thought for a while, then said no. The boy asked “what if it ever does?” The man said “then I’ll be eaten.”
When the sun rose the next morning, the man bade farewell to the boy, who planned to wait for his family to return to the caravan. The man wasn’t sure how they intended to move it, and he didn’t ask. The boy asked him where he was going now. The man looked down the road, following the gentle slope, “that way I guess”. The boy asked why. The man thought carefully, then said “I’m looking for something, but I’m not sure where to start.” The boy said “that way is good, there’s a town” then, looking into the man’s face, he said “I hope you find it.” The man turned away, the words “me too” echoing in his mind.
In the rhythm of walking, man and beast blended into the landscape. For a time, the man forgot about the thorn in his calm. The country gently changed. The primal shade of forest was replaced by seas of stumps, which faded into pasture land. The man and beast crossed over wooden bridges which spanned the fast mountain streams, and stepped over slumped fences, and stood beneath the stars. The night was quiet, and they traveled alone.
The man woke in the late morning. In the daylight he could see thin trails of smoke climbing skyward in the distance. It was the forefront of the town, among a field of tree-stumps and stacked wood, there was a single cabin. As the man approached, he saw a human shape through a small opening. He urged the beast to remain out of sight, and went to the front of the building.
When the man entered, the sole occupant turned abruptly. The man faced a large man with a stout beard, who demanded “what do ye want?” The man said “I’m a traveler, I’m just looking for direction.” The large man eyed him up and down, assessing his ragged clothes and matted hair. Then he said “you’d best learn some manners. Ye have to knock on doors before you can go in. I’ll make you some tea, where are ye headed?”
The man explained he was looking for information about unusual or rare types of animals or maybe spirits, the large man nodded slowly. He recommended the man to the library in town. He said “I’ll not ask why you’re looking for something like that, but I’ve heard there’s a wizard that comes and goes through the town, you might want to talk to him.” The man thanked his host, and returned to the wilderness.
Traveling through the cleared land was difficult. There were few places to hide, and the man feared being spotted. Alone, he was a harmless traveler, but he knew how people reacted to the beast. By sticking to the forested lands near the river, the man and the beast arrived on the outskirts of town.
The man was hidden in the bushes, under a small stone bridge over the river. On the near bank there was a squat building painted an off-orange color. The man was startled by a sudden sound. A dark wood door was thrown open so it banged against the wall, and a drunk man stumbled out. Slurring something to himself, he moved right past the man toward the bridge. The man watched as he climbed into the middle of the bridge, swaying dangerously close to the sides. The man saw the beast was watching too.
The drunk man stood in the middle of the bridge, and turned to look at the river. It was narrow, fast, and cold. He swayed back and forth, looking down over the edge of the bridge. His face held an indiscernible expression. Then, the drunk man’s face suddenly split into a huge grin, he laughed raucously, and he walked across the bridge. The man sucked in air, feeling like he had been holding his breath.
Entering the bar, the man looked around nervously. He knew every wasted minute was a chance the beast would be seen. He left it sitting under the bridge, but he knew it would begin to wander soon enough. The man saw he was being stared at by four of the five people in the bar. The barman spoke up first, asking “you want a drink?”
The man fielded question after question. He couldn’t manage more than curt direct responses, and he had no skill for elaboration, but they kept asking. After some beer had begun to affect him, he suddenly started and said “wait, I need to find the wizard!” This prompted further questions.
The man learned that the wizard, a man of many doubted and mysterious abilities, visited sometime, but he wasn’t here now. However his books would be in the upstairs of the chapel library. The man was asked if he wanted to apprentice the wizard, but he soon saw a dark shape moving outside the smudged and blurry windows of the bar. The man stood up and began to leave the bar.
One of the other patrons, a woman, caught his arm and asked him to stay. She had so many more questions. The man saw she was very beautiful, and there was a honeyed sweetness to her voice which lulled his mind. In the corner of his eye, the shape moved. He tugged away, and the woman followed him to the door. He saw the other patrons’ eyes were shifting between him and the woman. Perhaps they were looking at window behind him. The woman caught his arm again, and the shape moved.
In his mind’s eye, the man saw what would happen next. The patrons would follow him outside. They would see the beast. They would provoke it, or flee and call the guards. Seeing death before his eyes, the man was overcome with a sudden burst of movement. He flung the woman back, and she stumbled, falling to the floor. “Stay back! Damn you! Leave me be!” he roared at the patrons, spittle flying from his mouth. He flung the door open and stormed through. It struck the wall with a bang.
Outside, he looked around, but could not see the beast. His vision narrowed, he walked quickly back under the bridge. The beast was asleep, in the bushes where they had hid. The man barked the words “let’s go”. The beast did not appear to hear him. He repeated himself to no effect. Enraged, he took a step toward it, before a paralyzing jolt ran through his body. He stood frozen, staring at it’s sleeping form. The layered muscle. The glint of white fang beneath it’s lip. The slow rise and fall of it’s chest. Suddenly, tears stung the man’s eyes, and he could move again. So he turned away, and began making his way down the river brush.
The chapel sat on a flat area near a gentle curve of the river. There was a large green-space surrounded by trees, which the man followed. He saw the trees encircled a garden behind the chapel. He saw the beast continued to follow him. Reaching near the entrance, he got down on his knees and begged the beast to remain hidden. It stared blankly at him. After some moments, he got up, and walked toward the door. As he opened it, he looked over his shoulder, and saw the beast was hidden in the shadows of the trees. Sitting quietly and looking at him. He smiled and went inside.
The chapel was nearly silent. The man saw an old woman praying near the front, and passed her by. He looked into the rooms, and soon found a greying man in a robe with heavy spectacles, reading a large book. The librarian looked quizzically at the man, but when he learned the man sought the top level of the library, a shallow smile crossed his lips. “Right this way” he said, and began to walk along the corridor. The corridor branched, then became small wooden stairs which twisted and doubled back on themselves.
The man found himself in a cramped attic room. The librarian told him to browse at his leisure, but warned the man not to take anything, or damage the books. The man looked at the dusty and yellowing piles of loose-bound books. He picked up the closest one, and began to leaf through it. The man was a very slow reader, having learned in a distant and vague time. The book seemed to be about the uses of herbs, so he put it down.
Halfway through a book about wizard hat tailoring, the man heard a loud shout from below. Climbing down the wooden steps, he was grabbed by the arms and dragged to the ground floor. Wooden poles were crossed at his neck, and his head was wrenched to see a brusque man in a suit of armor. The armored man said he was a pagan, and he would be punished for his crimes before the lord. He was dragged out of the chapel by his shoulders. The old woman was gone.
When he got outside, the man struggled to look up. The beast was nowhere to be seen. The man was thrown over the back of a horse, and they rode for several minutes. When they stopped, he was grabbed again, he felt his back strike a wooden pole and he heard the clinking of chains. Then he heard a deep guttural sound. The men around him stopped, and slowly turned. The sound grew louder. The man felt something hard strike his stomach, and then something heavy fell onto his head.
When he awoke, it was dark, and the silhouette of the beast blocked out the stars. It looked down at him. He struggled to his feet, and saw there were broken shards of wood strewn about. He was laying some feet from the base of the wooden pole, which was broken. He saw several other poles lined in a row. An iron brazier sat nearby, and the man shuddered realizing what fate he avoided. He stumbled toward the nearby woods, and the beast walked close to him. He raised an arm to rest on the beasts shoulder.
The man and beast traveled by night, keeping to the small and wooded paths. Whenever the man thought he saw glimpses of torchlight on the roads, he hid until they vanished. One night, he heard hooves and shouting, he saw torchlights ahead of him in the distance, moving back along the main road in the direction of the town. He turned to avoid them, and a second group game into view coming from town. The man went directly away from the road, exiting the forested area and passing near an unlit farm house onto a side lane.
As the man looked around in the dark, he saw that the mounted torchbearers were clustered together near the intersection of the lane and main road. He thought they might fan out soon, but he would have a moment to sneak ahead of them, and wait to see if they would go back to the town. He crouched low to the ground, and half-crawled along the ditch at the side of the lane. Finding a good spot to cross, he looked over at the men, there were nearly a dozen riders, and they seemed to be armed. They were beginning to come up the lane. He knew he had to act now. There was a dark shape out of the corner of his eye. His head turned, and he saw the beast entering into view at the furthest reaches of the torchlight.
The horses reared, and the men roared battle cries. The beast was right before them, in the flickering torchlight. The man could hear a voice shout “kill the monster, charge!” Suddenly, the man felt his body change course. He turned to face down the lane, and held his staff in both hands. As he approached his companion, he saw a lance pass through where the beast stood. In a spray of blood, the beast glided forth, over the collapsing bodies of rider and horse.
The next lance was deflected into the earth by the solid oak of the man’s staff, wrenching the rider’s arm. He fell from the saddle in a cry of pain, turned terror, then silenced by the beast’s jaws. The next rider fell as his horses legs were broken, and the next when fangs found his thigh. Men’s and horse’s screams formed the vocal arrangement, while the percussive crunch of metal and bone played rhythm. The man and beast twirled together in an age-old dance. When the music had died, there was only the distant hooves of those who fled, cries of pain from the wounded, and heavy breathing of beast and man.
Slowly, as the night turned to crimson silence, the man and beast began to move along the road. The man used his staff to lift the helmet of an armored body which lay stiff on the ground. The man was alive, but he pleaded to God to be spared. The man looked at him until he went silent. Gathering the energy to speak, he said one word. “Why?” The armored man stared back, his face now sharing the man’s blank expression. He slowly raised a gauntlet-ed hand, and pointed a single finger at the shaggy black form behind him. Now filthy with caked blood, the beast had buried it’s fangs in one of the fresh bodies littering the earth. The man simply nodded, and walked onward.
The man and breast traveled away from the town. The pastures became few, and wild shrub-lands replaced them. As the valley opened to the sky, the man and beast found themselves in woodlands once again. There was a single road out of the valley, but they encountered no-one. Until, at a crossroad in the thickening woods, a strange voice emerged. It seemed to come from nowhere, greeting them. Then, the foliage at the side of the road began to rise. Leaves shifting and falling to reveal a cloaked figure, who addressed the man.
“I’ve been waiting some time for you.” The voice spoke, the rustle of dry leaves in a sudden wind. Two pale and knobbled hands pulled back the hood, and the white-haired old woman stood before them. “Where is it? Come closer now.” The woman said. The man stepped toward her, and her gaze suddenly fixed on him. “Not you fool, the other one.” From the shade of the trees, the beast stepped forward. The old woman smiled broadly as it moved toward her.
“Marvelous” she said “beautiful thing” as she began to feel around the beasts haunches. Her hands moved upward to it’s head, which the beast lowered for her. She looked into it’s eyes, and exhaled deeply. “Poor brute” she said, patting the beasts head, “the beautiful ones always end up with the fools.” The woman suddenly looked at him with an authoritative glare, saying “listen now, I will ask you something.”
“In this world, we become attached to things, seeking them without thought, following them all the time. When we seek these things, we are restrained by them. Tell me, who seeks power in this world?” The man said he didn’t know, he never payed attention to the affairs of power. The old woman said “The ones who seek it are those who cannot wield it, for they are restrained by the seeking.” The man asked what this had to do with him. The woman said “do you know what kind of person seeks knowledge in this world?” The man answered “scholars? Or… wizards?”
The old woman paused, looking at him. Eventually she said “you’re not a scholar, or a wizard.” The man nodded, he was just a traveler. The woman’s expression did not change, but she asked in a softer voice “do you know who seeks love in this world?” The man was silent. He tried to say he didn’t know, but his tongue wouldn’t move. After a moment, the old woman smiled and looked away. Then she spoke again, in an authoritative voice.
“You will go forth, take the western road from here. It leads to the mountain. There, you will find a quiet monastery. That place has only one person living in it. It is with that person that you will find your answer.” The man paused, looking in the direction she indicated. Before he could utter a word, the woman said “Go now, take this beautiful creature with you, and don’t come back.” The man turned to ask something of the woman, but she was no longer there. She had simply vanished. Bewildered, he realized that he forgot what he wanted to know. Shaking his head, he turned to walk along the western path. The beast soon followed.
The man began to think about what the Woman had said. “What am I really seeking?” he asked himself. He looked over at the beast walking next to him, this thing which seemed to always be following him. The beast looked back, and the man, for the first time in a long while, sought deeply in those glistening rock-pool eyes. He found nothing. A small choking sound came from the mans throat, and he abruptly turned, breaking from the path. He walked back into the forest.
The man found his path ending at the steep banks of a fast mountain river. He began to follow the bank, and soon the terrain inclined and became stonier. Before long, the mountains stretched in both directions as far as he could see. The ground was steeper and rockier, and the man struggled to find a path. After cresting a sheer stone face, the man emerged onto a hilltop. He collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. He could see a small winding path some distance to the south. It exited the forest, and climbed toward the space between two mountains. He looked away, and his gaze returned to the forest.
After climbing down the stony hills, the man followed the riverbank until it entered the forest again. Sticking closely to the river this time, he remained in woods for a long time. The beast and the man spent days there, the green seeming like it would go on forever. When they came to a clearing, the man could see mountain peaks above the trees in the direction they were going, and the direction they came from.
The man continued onward, until the forest began to thin. It opened into sparse shrub-land and rolling hills. He saw a small winding path to his north. It exited the forest and climbed the space between two mountains. A brief flash of anger sparked in the man. He turned around to face the river, looked over at the beast sitting several paces away, and took a running leap. As he soared through the air, frigid mist striking his face, and the blinding sun in his eyes, he felt like he might make it.
He hit the far bank hard. The rock was slick with icy water, and his hands could not hold on. He fell into the river. The raging water was violent and cold. It pulled him under and thrashed him against the rock. His staff broke, saving his spine. His head struck stone, he saw the stars, and then the black. The man’s body was spit onto the bank a mile downstream. The beast waited for him. It dragged his unconscious form onto the bank, and began to lick his face and hands. The man coughed a spray of red water. He choked and gasped, and then fell unconscious again.
When the man woke again, there was a pile of thin sticks and bark next to him. The beast was curled around his body. He found his flintstone in the small back at his back, and lit a fire. Soon it was night.
The man slept and cooked small carcasses brought by the beast for several days. When he could stand, he limped into the trees to find another staff. Eventually, he packed up the camp and began to walk back into the forest. The beast followed him. He soon found himself on a main road through the forest. When he came out of the trees again, he saw that he stood on a winding path. It exited the forest, and climbed the space between two mountains. The man breathed heavily and leaned on his staff. He felt the point sink into the earth. He began forward.
The path climbed the mountain with many turns and switchbacks. It was not too steep, and well trodden, with many resting areas placed every so often. These areas had some kind of stone tablet on a pedestal, and wooden benches around it. The stone tablet had carvings in a language the man could not read. In front of the tablets were small bundles of food and cloth. The man took from these as he needed.
Eventually, the path led to a strange building. It seemed to be sprouting directly from the mountainside. It was made of stone and wood, and had a pale blue color painted on the walls. The man approached the front, where a large metal knocker in the shape of an unknown animal sat on a heavy wooden door. He lifted the knocker, and an immense bang sounded out when he let it go. He waited a long time, but nothing happened. While he waited, the man thought he could hear strange music drifting through the air. It had an unusual, transfixing harmony to him. He listened for a while, and eventually it faded. All was silent on the mountain.
The man turned back, and began to walk down the path. After the first bend, he found the beast sitting in the middle of the path. He moved forward, and it began to make a deep rumbling sound. It pulled back it’s lips to show long glistening teeth. The man was stunned, and stared at it. Something flickered deep in his chest. Slowly, he backed away, his eyes never leaving the beast until was hidden from view by the stone of the mountain.
The man’s head swam, he couldn’t think straight. He walked back up the path. As he got closer to the building, he could see a figure in the open doorway, waving at him. He saw it was a woman. As he got closer, he saw she was beautiful. When he came near, she called out in a strange accent, saying “hello!” He stood on the path, staring at her in bewilderment, until she called him forward.
When he arrived at the door, she invited him inside. The inner courtyard was a well-tended garden, with a small spring bubbling forth from the mountain stone. There were several cages with colorful birds, and many intricately-patterned banners hung around the semicircular area. The woman explained “the pilgrim quarters are the first room on the left here, and the dining hall is just after that.” The man spoke slowly, saying he wasn’t a pilgrim. The woman didn’t hear him, so he repeated himself. The woman paused, saying “oh, are you a supplicant then? What can I do for you” but the man said he wasn’t one of those either.
The woman turned to face him, and looked directly into his face. Her eyes met his, and hey saw they were black as the ocean at night. Vast and cold. An unspoken darkness stretching to the horizon. The man felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a great chasm. Then she said “why did you come here?” The man tried to answer, but his tongue was thick and heavy. The woman’s eyes grew wider, and she repeated her question in an imploring voice.
The man stammered, and tried to explain. He told that he was traveling, and about the old woman at the crossroad. He expected the woman to understand. When the man had finished talking, a tense silence filled the space. Then, the woman said “it’s time for you to leave.” The man was confused, he started to ask something, but the woman stepped back, saying “it is time. Leave.”
From behind the wooden wall at the far end of the courtyard, the man heard a strange sound. It was a deep and undulating yowl. Through gaps in the wood, he could see the shape of something large and black as pitch, moving slowly around the wall. He saw that it would turn the corner and be facing him in only a few steps. The man felt his heart in his throat. Turning, he ran out of the door.
The man stumbled through the entrance and onto the stone path. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and his feet fell beneath him, barely stopping him from colliding with the stone. He slipped and skidded on the loose gravel. By the time he reached the first switchback, the beast was already standing, and began to run alongside him. The beast leaped and bounded while he scrambled and fell down the mountainside.
Eventually, the sheer stone became softer, and grass appeared. The man walked, his lungs burning, until he reached the trees. Hours later, around a small fire, the man lay bruised and exhausted upon the earth. He stared up at the stars for hours until sleep took him.
In the night, the man had strange and fitful dreams. He dreamed of fighting a mounted lancer in full armor, riding a huge black beast. When he felled it, he pulled back it’s visor to reveal a portly old man, who smiled and asked if he wanted any ale.
He turned to face another rider, and after narrowly deflecting the lance, he saw it was the librarian. He stumbled backwards and fell into a river filled with broken chairs and tables. The wood scraped and pierced, and he clambered onto the bank. He saw the old woman and the young boy standing above him, fighting rows of men in armor. With each strike, they both chanted “Who seeks? Who seeks? Who seeks?” He let go and sunk into the dark waters, only to be spit out on the bank. Finally alone, he closed his eyes, but a flickering light played on his eyelids. He opened them again to see a fire, and sitting next to him, the woman from the monastery. She looked into his eyes with a gentle expression, and said “come back”. One of her eyes was blue, and the other a deep brown.
When the man woke, he saw that it was mid-morning. His body and mind were slow and stiff. He felt as though he was coming back from the land of the dead. The sun shone golden light through the dappled leaves. Birds chirped. He went to the nearby stream and drank, and washed his face. He packed the camp, and could not see where the beast had gone. The chirping of the birds grew louder, and the man started to feel strangely annoyed by it. Eventually he picked up his staff and swung it, trying to swipe at the birds, which now perched on the tips of the nearest branches to him. They erupted in a storm of feathers, avoiding the stick, and quickly pivoted to land on it. The man began to shake the staff, but he saw something strange.
The birds were looking at him with deep black eyes. He recognized them. They were the same birds from the monastery. The closest one hopped toward him, and he saw it had a bundle tied around it’s leg. He reached out and took it. It was a small leather cylinder with a cap. Inside there was parchment. The man unfurled the parchment and slowly began to read it. He went slowly word by word. It said:
I’m sorry for yesterday. As you can see, my beast is protective of me. Perhaps it needs to be. It’s good that you’ve been introduced at least. Truthfully, what I felt was fear. I sensed something strange about you. Something familiar. I reacted more strongly than I expected. Now I find myself wondering: Who are you, and why did you finally come see me? So, if you aren’t wounded of pride, I’d like to have you over for tea. We can see what happens.
Sincerely yours,
Lina
The man stared for a long time at the paper. When he looked up, his vision swam, and the birds still looked at him. He blinked rapidly and nodded slowly, folding the parchment carefully into his pocket. The birds jumped up and flew through the trees. He saw them heading toward the mountain.
The man followed the path carefully. His legs were weak from the previous days. As he neared the last switchback, he saw the dark form of the beast, sitting where it had before. The man approached the beast, placing his hand on it’s shoulder. It looked at him. He looked into it’s eyes, and for a moment he thought he saw a glint of something, then it was gone. To the beast he said “come on, we best introduce you too.”
Man and beast walked up the mountain road together. When they reached the door, the man took a deep breath. He grabbed the knocker, and then let it go.