The Arrow and the Bear

Saga stared at her Master, unwilling to move or speak. The tip of her sword wavered slightly when she pointed it at him, but she didn’t dare lower it.

The old man eyed her sword warily. “Saga? What’s going on?” He tried to stand, slowly, but struggled against the beatweaver silk around his ankles. He shot a glance at Dapper, then at her again, his tone growing more concerned as he spoke. “Please, Saga, talk to me. I feel like I just woke up from a nightmare, and nothing is making any sense.”

She frowned. Could she trust him? He seemed like he was back to normal, but just moments ago he’d been trying to kill her. Her neck still ached, but she didn’t want to risk weakening herself by healing the injury. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse for the second time in a day.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Well…leaving camp this morning, I believe. You’d asked me about the Captain, and I told you not to worry about her, and now…it’s getting close to sunset?”

That wasn’t what he’d said about the Captain. “We’ve been walking all day, Master Dorrin. A few hours yet from the Crossroads, but…”

“But?”

She lifted her chin, giving him a better view of what surely must be visible bruises by now. “You did this. Without provocation. You attacked me, then tried to strangle me.” Her right eye burned again, but she forced herself to contain the rising emotions inside her. “You almost succeeded, but now that I’ve fought you off you sit here acting like nothing happened while I’m left wondering if you’ll try again!”

She didn’t realize she was shouting until the echo of her words came back to her from the distance. Master Dorrin’s face had gone deathly pale, and he looked down at his hands. “I…no, I would never…”

“You did! ” She cut him off, thrusting the tip of her saber forward to hover just before his eyes. “You tried to kill me!” Something in her, something dark, wanted to do it. A shift of her hips, that’s all it would take to close the rest of the distance and pierce his eye, then his brain. It was the only way to protect herself, and that’s what he would want, right?

He must have seen it inside of her, in her eyes, because tears began to run down his cheeks. She started, and pulled the blade back, disgusted with herself. Tears, from Master Dorrin? The man was a rock. A stubborn, weathered, ancient stone. This wasn’t the madman who’d attacked her minutes ago.

She lowered her blade, then knelt in front of him, using it to slice the silk that bound his ankles. “It’s alright. Something’s wrong with you, but we can fix it. We’ve got to get you back to the city, to the Sanctum. They can do something.”

He nodded, slowly, jerkily, but she could see it in his eyes. Something had broken in him. He’d crossed a line he hadn’t thought he could, and it had damaged him. She wasn’t sure if he’d ever be the man he was after this, and she pitied him. Empathized, really. After the previous day, she wasn’t the woman she was when she left the city either.

Saga sheathed her sword and pulled him to his feet, and the two donned their packs. The walked for a few hours longer, until the sun began to darken with the approaching sunset and the Crossroads was beginning to light torches in the distance. “We’d best make camp soon,” Master Dorrin said, his voice dull. “If we get an early start tomorrow, we should reach Beacon’s Ridge while the sun is still up.”

“But we’re close to the Crossroads. It’s right there, we can camp inside. Maybe there are healers, or-”

“No!” He cut her off, but it didn’t carry the same aggressive tone as when he’d snapped. When she stopped to eye him, he shook his head and repeated himself softly. “No. Whatever’s wrong with me, I don’t…” He trailed off, refusing to speak further but also refusing to move.

Gem. He doesn’t want her to see him like this, or worse, he doesn’t want to risk harming her.

Too bad he didn't have the same concern about you.

She gritted her teeth at the words that forced themselves into her thoughts, forcing them back down. What was wrong with her? Finally, she nodded to him, agreeing with his unspoken words, and they soon found a dirt patch in the grass next to the road. She set up her bedroll, started a fire, and began cooking a simple evening meal for them. Dapper went off hunting, and she couldn’t help but feel vulnerable without her friend. When prompted, he reassured her that he’d be nearby if she needed him. He even left her a line to tug on just in case.

Master Dorrin seemed to still be himself. Absent were the ramblings and mutterings from before. Instead, he busied himself with a pen and ink in the firelight, writing furiously on some paper from his pack. She watched him warily the entire time she cooked, though she couldn’t make out what he was writing. When asked, he just shook his head and told her “everything will be alright.”

That’s not ominous.

When the food was ready, they ate in silence for a while, neither one willing to disturb the tentative peace between them. Eventually, though, he spoke.

“Saga?”

She jumped, startled at the sudden sound of his voice after being lost in thought for so long. “Yes, Master Dorrin?”

“Could you play a song for me? On your flute? I don’t want to end the night like this. Not this silence. Not tonight.”

She eyed him. He hadn’t moved a muscle from his position by the fire, his face stoic, but something in his voice was pleading. Desperate. She considered for only a second before nodding slowly. “Of course, Master. Any requests?”

He finally smiled, though it was weary. “‘The Arrow and the Bear’? It’s an old favorite, but I’ve never had the skill to play it myself.”

She almost laughed at the request, despite the dark mood. “The Arrow and the Bear” was an old drinking song about a bear’s unfortunate run-in with an adventuring party. In the song, the party mortally wounded the bear but the beast kept on fighting, and they tried increasingly implausible injuries to put it out of its misery, not least of which shoving an arrow into it from an…awkward angle, until it finally died. In the end, the party held a proper funeral for the bear.

The song was a common request in bars and other watering holes, despite the vulgar and brutal nature of the lyrics, and it always ended with the audience raising a toast to the bear. She hadn’t realize Master Dorrin even knew the song, let alone cherished it so highly.

Fortunately for him, Saga did know it, and she pulled out her flute to play. As she played, he sang the words to himself, drinking from the flask he’d procured from his pack between verses. She smiled despite herself. The old man seemed relaxed for the first time since before they encountered the bandits. She supposed even a hardened adventurer like him needed to unwind now and then. Occasionally, a particularly crass verse would come up and Saga would have to struggle to keep playing, lest she break down into laughter.

As the song finally came to a close, the poor bear finally laid to rest, Master Dorrin raised his flask to the sky. “To the bear!” he shouted, before downing the rest of his drink. He put the empty flask away and stared into the fire, his eyes red and watery.

She watched him for a while out of a mixture of caution and sympathy. Dapper returned, scurrying sideways to keep an eye on the old man before hopping up to her shoulder and tapped. The coast was clear, he was saying, but the cadence of his message made it clear what he was really trying to convey.

She looked down at him, earning a single but firm tap for emphasis, then sighed dramatically. “Alright, I’ll get some real sleep, I promise.”

Dapper waved, then disappeared into the darkness again. She trusted him to wake her if something happened, but she also couldn’t help but wonder if she’d actually be able to fall asleep. As she prepared to climb into her bedroll, Master Dorrin spoke, making her freeze.

“Saga, before you turn in…”

She looked at him, keeping her face neutral as she waited for him to continue. To her surprise, he was holding a sealed letter out to her. She took it, turning it over gingerly in her hands. “Is this what you were writing? What is it?” When did he have the time to put it in an envelope and melt the wax?

He nodded his head at it. “It’s a letter for Tale. For his eyes only, though I’m sure he’ll want to share the contents with you after he reads it. I trust you can be patient?” His eyes twinkled, and it reminded Saga of the man in question.

She put it away safely in her pack. “Of course, Master Dorrin, but…”

“Why not give it to him myself?” His voice was growing steadily more slurred from the drink.

She nodded.

“Like you said, need a healer. Only the Sanctum can fix whatever’s wrong with me. The information in that letter can’t wait for me to get better, so it’s important that you take it right to him.”

She searched his eyes. Something was wrong. Not the madness from before, and not the weariness from the fight. He wasn’t telling her something, but she knew from experience that he wouldn’t share it if he didn’t want to, a sentiment she realized was becoming increasingly common in her life. Eventually, she sighed. “Yes, Master. I’ll take it right to him. I promise.”

He nodded, relief on his face, and he began pouring dirt on the fire. “Thank you, Saga. Rest well. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Saga silently watched him put out the campfire, not getting into her bedroll until he’d done the same. Despite Dapper’s reassurances, she found herself fighting to stay awake, watching the still form across the camp from them. Eventually, however, the stresses and pains of the past two days caught up to her. Master Dorrin spoke once more, just as darkness claimed her.

“Be strong, Saga.”

———

Saga woke with a start, and looked up to find a figure standing over her bedroll. She tried to scream, but no sound came. She scrambled away from the man, reaching for her saber, but it was gone. Was it Master Dorrin? Had that madness returned? Why hadn’t Dapper warned her? Her mind raced, her eyes darting side to side. Master Dorrin’s bedroll wasn’t empty, it was gone.

The figure stalked after her as she moved away. She tried to get to her feet, to stand and run, but the ground kept giving out under her hands and sending her falling to her back once more. She screamed again, and again, there was no sound. She realized suddenly that it wasn’t just her voice. The night carried no sound at all, no insects buzzing or the stirring of the wind on the grasses. Even the figure looming over her was completely silent.

She tried to steady her mind, to focus her Will for a spell, but the power slipped from her grasp. Even the little control needed to activate her hair clasp escaped her. The figure stooped, and she could finally, just barely make out the face that hovered over hers.

It wasn’t Master Dorrin.

The bloody and mangled face of the bandit she’d killed stared back at her in the dim moonlight. She opened her mouth to scream once more, horror and revulsion filling her, but before she could even try, she felt hands clamp down on her throat. They clamped down inhumanly tight, like a vise, and she struggled to pry them from her hands.

You can stop this.

A soft voice whispered to her nearby. She turned her head, though it was hard work with the bandit’s hands around her neck. She spotted a pit nearby, an unnaturally round and dark hole. No, not a hole. This was a void, an absolute darkness that seemed to swallow light. The voice was coming from that gap in space.

Come to me. I will shelter you. I will protect you. Please.

The unspoken voice gave the impression of someone begging, pleading for a loved one. It was full of sadness, as if watching something terrible play out before its eyes, but with a spark of urgency. It made her want to obey, to go to that immersive ink and let it consume her. She wanted desperately to give in, to go to it, to ask for help, but with the bandit pinning her down and choking her she couldn’t move or even try to speak.

Use your Will. Invite me in, and I will come to you.

Did it hear her thoughts, or just predict them? She mentally shook her head. Her focus was wavering. How long had the bandit been choking her? It felt like minutes since she’d breathed, but she only now began to feel the lack of oxygen affect her. The entire situation felt surreal, but…

Focus! She needed to focus. She reached out with her mind, using her Will to beckon the hole closer. It obeyed, creeping towards the two, but its pace was agonizingly slow. The fingers around her neck seemed to tighten with every second, though again she was struck by how little lack of oxygen seemed to affect her. Something was off, but she couldn’t quite place it.

The void drew ever closer, and she released a hand from her attacker’s arm and reached for it, stretching out her fingers. It was mere inches away, seconds from the promised salvation.

No, Saga! You have to fight!

Another voice, again in her mind, but different from the void’s. What was going on? Why was she hearing two voices in her head?

Begone, interloper , the void said, but it stopped just out of her reach as her Will wavered. She has chosen peace. She has chosen the void, as all others before her inevitably have.

No! The other voice seemed more lively, more…angry? But somehow fainter, as if calling from a great distance. Images flashed into her mind, and Saga saw herself pulling away from the hole, standing tall, fighting back against her assailant. The images came to her unbidden, and she realized simultaneously that they came from this second voice, and that she understood what they were trying to tell her.

“I can’t…” Saga said, and she realized with a start that she could breathe, could talk! The hands remained around her throat, but the pressure was somehow nonexistent. “It hurts,” she continued, “I just want it to stop.”

All you have to do is accept me, the void said. I can make it better. I can give you peace. It was pleading, and she felt its genuine desire to help her.

*Can…help…*The second voice spoke again, but its words were broken up, distorted, and she could barely understand them. Once again, images came to her mind, passing across her vision like paintings on a wall that revolved around her. It showed her the terrible things she’d seen, the people dying in the Snarewolf attack, the bandits she’d slain, the bodies in the village, Master Dorrin’s crazed expression as he’d tried to kill her the previous day. Each vision filled her further with despair, and she felt herself reaching for the void once more.

Look...

She obeyed, despite herself. As she focused on each of the images in turn, they were each replaced. Gem’s eyes peered at her in the dim candlelight, shining with some unspoken emotion. Epic held the hair clasp out to her, smiling weakly. Arty hugged her tight, and she could feel him smiling against her cheek. Master Dorrin laughed and sang as she played him a song, offering her a warm smile over the fire.

Something filled her heart, a feeling it took her an embarrassingly long time to name. It was the feeling of being alive, the verve of a performer baring their soul to their audience. It was warm, practically thrumming inside of her, and she could almost make out words in the vibrations. The feeling filled her with strength, and her Will surged.

No! The void screamed at her, not angry, but fearful. Please! I just want to help! Don’t push me away!

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pitying the voice. “I’m not ready to give up yet.”

There was a silent pause before the voice finally replied. So be it. Your misguided determination will fade with time. It always does. Do not fear; I will be waiting for you when it all becomes too much. I will take your pain.

The void next to her vanished, replaced by solid ground, but she still got the feeling that whatever it was was out there, watching her. Waiting.

She shook her head. She could deal with that later. She reached for her Will, shaping a cone of wind and releasing it directly into her attacker’s abdomen. The bandit was sent to the ground yards away in a crumpled heap, but almost immediately he was back on his feet, stalking towards her again.

Both voices were gone now, and when Saga tried to yell at the bandit to stay back, her voice was once again silent. Growling in frustration, she gathered her Will again, shaping it into a fire spell. She couldn’t set him on fire directly, but she could create a jet of flame and allow it to consume him. She did so, and the bandit immediately caught fire. It enveloped him too quickly, as if he’d been drenched in alcohol or oil, but still he came closer, unimpeded by his burning flesh.

She kept the flames aimed at him, putting more and more of her Will into the spell, trying to force them to burn hotter, burn faster , but as it seemed he was beginning to slow, she saw a small figure in the corner of her eye. A young boy, with dark hair and light brown eyes, smiled up at her carrying a pile of loose coals.

Wait, this is…

“I can help!” The boy said excitedly. His voice was silent, like hers, but she knew what he was saying when his mouth moved. She’d heard it before. He broke into a run directly at the burning man. As he approached, the flames turned a familiar crystalline red, and Saga froze. She dropped her spell, but the flames grew only brighter and hotter. A voice whispered to her, more familiar than the previous two, but she couldn’t understand it this time.

Please, not this.

Again, she reached out to grab the boy, to pull him back. She screamed desperately for someone to help, for him to stop, but it was too late. He tripped, and the coals went flying into the flames of the Redlight.

Again, the flames burned brighter, greedily consuming the coal, and the sudden sharp increase in heat detonated the coal dust. A fireball began to expand from the Redlight, filling her vision.

Again, a figure appeared before her, faster than anything she’d ever seen. The figure sheltered Saga and the child from the explosion, but they weren’t large enough to completely cover both of them. Something struck Saga’s face, filling her right eye with crimson fire and pain, and then darkness swallowed her.