CHAPTER 26

DOING THE RIGHT THING

Sometimes doing the right thing looks stupid to everyone but the one willing to do it.

…which is usually when it matters most.

Silas worked on his masterpieces in silence, while Jan and Wendell did the same.

Well, Jan tried to, anyway.

“Why won’t you talk about last night?” Wendell pushed again.

All morning he paid closer attention to the tasks that put him within earshot of the lumberjack, rather than the menial tasks of chopping firewood or attending to the goats.

Looking over his shoulder at Silas, he moved the same block of wood for the fifth time, adjusting its position on the carving table.

Jan continued to carve out the rage of a bear in the custom tavern beam he was working on.

“Please, Jan,” another shift of the wood block, “I’m just trying to make sense of this. You know—put the pieces together. It’s driving me insane not knowing the truth.”

Lifting the huge block of wood once more, Wendell shifted it to the other corner of the table.

“One moment I was surrounded by you, wolves, and the next I was being pushed over the edge by the robe.” He thought about that for a second. “Or was I pulled? Hard to tell when it was all over me like plastic wrap…”

The carving knife paused.

Jan stared at the open mouth of the wooden bear.

“You should be dead.”

Wendell gripped the corner of the table, his head bowed to hide his clenched teeth. You think I don’t know that? That I don’t struggle with how the Universe seems to toss me about to fit its…its…whatEVER this is!?!

“Maybe,” was all he could think to say, “but luckily I have these enchanted clothes that have kept me safe to this point.” Which isn’t technically a lie.

“Maybe,” Jan replied quietly, raising his head to meet Wendell’s stare. Then, leaning across the table a single muscular finger poked Wendell square in the chest, hard enough to produce a soft ‘clink’ sound off the surface of the Ithari. “Maybe not.”

Wendell gulped.

Jan’s steel blue eyes burned with a clarity that frightened him. “Who are you, Wendell?” Those same eyes locked with Wendell’s, who couldn’t turn away. “Who are you really?”

Wendell’s mind raced as he glanced around the barn. Silas was entrenched in his labors, while Bartleby was adjusting the chairs he’d ordered in the back of his wagon.

What can I say? Isn’t being the hero supposed to be a secret? What am I allowed to tell people?

He never thought he’d regret NOT having a meeting with  the Iskari High Council, but Wendell wished he knew what to say now. What were the people of this world allowed to know? Didn’t part of his duty include protecting the priceless gem he carried?

Jan was a good man.

Honest. True. Loyal.

He’d been a true friend to Wendell from the moment he saved him from a worse thrashing from Sawyer and his goons.

So wasn’t he trustworthy to know something more?

The High Council wouldn’t be able to help Wendell with this—because this all started and stopped with Wendell himself.

He was the Hero of the Gem.

He was fully responsible for the decisions he made.

Now…and forever more.

You told me to be me. Well, this is what I would do with a friend…

“I’m…not sure you’d believe me, Jan. But if you’re willing to listen, I’ll tell you.” He scratched his head thoughtfully. “In fact, I’ll tell you everything—then you can decide what you will.”

Tossing the chisel and hammer onto the work bench, Jan nodded. “Silas, I need to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. If it’s alright with you, I’ll go help Wendell with the farm chores so I can get his help loading all the wagons before it gets too late.”

Silas looked up from his statue. “So now I’m Silas, am I?”

Jan chuckled, “Unless you prefer ‘sir’?”

“I don’t need you making me feel older than I actually am, thank you.” Giving them both a grin and a nod he added, “that’s a good idea, so stop wasting my time and get to it.”

****

Loading the wagons for deliveries meant making sure the first drop offs were secured last—something Wendell couldn’t quite grasp. Trying to be more of a help, he messed up a handful of times during the process, forcing them to unload and reorganize more than once.

Jan never complained or chastised Wendell as they loaded and reloaded the inventory. Instead, he calmly undid the ropes holding the various carvings or furniture, went over the receipt again with Wendell, then helped him adjust the payload in each wagon.

Wendell was grateful their earlier conversations had dramatically changed the working mood.

Jan had explained that he’d found Wendell on the bank of the river near the village. Though he couldn’t be sure, he believed the black alpha pulled Wendell from the water, then stood guard over him.

There was no sign of the robe anywhere.

When approached, the wolf backed away peacefully, allowing the lumberjack to carry Wendell to safety.

“Every time I looked around, I’d seen the wolf following at a distance,” Jan explained,  “always watching.”

Wendell decided to share his full experience with the Iskari High Council—admitted that he wasn’t even from Humär, and that he’d been chosen to be the ‘hero’ by mistake.

A mistake that couldn’t be corrected.

Jan didn’t say a thing for nearly half an hour after that single statement. He just sat there on the tailgate of the wagon—stunned.

“So you saw people in need, and decided to give your life to the service of others,” he finally said allowed.

“Well…I guess so. The way you say it sounds noble, though,” wendell countered.

Jan grinned. “It is.”

That was hard to justify when he got to the part that he was both scared and overwhelmed, and, well…ran away.

Wendell also, after receiving Jan’s word that he’d keep the truth to himself—showed him Ithari.

“It’s not the clothes, Jan. She’s the one that keeps me alive.” Tapping the gem with his fingernail, he waved a hand and spoke the words of magic, pulling the veil over he once more.

“So that running after the little girl wasn’t your training? It really was a crazy desire to help someone in need?” Jan pulled the rope tight and let out a long whistle. “You really are a hero, then.”

Wendell cringed. “I still haven’t had any training. And please don’t say that. Especially out loud. ”

“Why not? You didn’t even ask for this responsibility and you accepted it anyway? Even knowing the risks involved?”

Scratching his head, “Well,…yes. But it’s a job I don’t know how to do, or where to even start.”

Content with the knot, Jan turned and gave Wendell’s shoulder a solid jab, “You should probably stop telling yourself that. Start where you are. Right here. Right now if you need to. Because it sounds like you need to be more of who you already are, my friend.”

Where have I heard THAT before? Wendell grumbled.

Lifting the back plank of the wagon into place to fully secure the load, Jan looked out into the night sky. “I wonder.”

Reaching into the last wagon, Wendell grabbed the order parchments. “About?”

Jan watched the brilliant stars shimmer among the clouds. “If more of us were willing to do the right thing, because it was right, I wonder if evil would have such a tight hold on us?”

Holding out the papers, “Not sure. But I do know that a society where we don’t fight for what’s right isn’t one I want to live in.”

With the wagons properly loaded, delivery sheets ready for each driver…and Bartleby’s order secured in his wagon, everything was ready for departure.

“You know what?” Jan grinned, holding out the scrolls to Wendell, “I think you should be the one to bring Silas the paperwork tonight.”

“But I don’t know…”

“Don’t stress,” Jan laughed, “you just have to hand him the papers and let him know everything is secure and ready to depart. I just thought you’d like to experience his mini-celebration.”

“His…?”

“Each time Silas completes these huge seasonal orders, he breaks out some secret goodies. They’re either purchased from town or imported from a client, and from personal experience let me say your mouth and belly will love you for it.” He gave Wendell a soft jab in the arm. “You’ve worked exceptionally hard, so I thought you might like the opportunity this time.”

Hand slowly grasping the scrolls, “Thank you?”

Jan winked.

“Oh, you definitely will.”

****

“To good work, and…,” Silas hesitated as a grin snuck on to his face, “I’m shocked to have to admit this, but,…even better workers.”

Wendell raised the mug, “To a great employer!”

“Now you’re just being stupid.”

“Uhhh,” Wendell let his arm drop slightly, “I’m not allowed to compliment my boss?”

“Everyone knows I’m brilliant,” Silas chimed in, though he had to hold onto the table for his balance, “benevolent, generous, a man of flawless integrity…”

“Let’s not forget amazingly humble!”

Silas jabbed his mug in Wendell’s direction, the rare ale sloshing over the side, “Exactly!”

Choking back his grin, Wendell raised his mug once more. “To a brilliant, benevolent, generous employer of flawless integrity and humility!”

Silas swayed again, enough to cause Tam to wander to the other side of the kitchen. “Really?” He blinked several times, his eyes growing moist, “I—I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” Raising his mug, he whacked it against Wendell’s and then guzzled down its contents.

“I do appreciate the job, Silas.”

Hovering the mug under the giant cask propped up on the counter, Silas shook his head slowly (so as not to fall over). “Nonsense, boy. You are a shockingly good worker. Worth every coin.”

“Why thank you—”

Without warning, Silas slammed his mug down on the table. “Speaking of coin, it’s time you got paid!” Swaying like an old tree in a storm, gnarled fingers dug into coat pockets and produced a small pouch. “I pay well for those who work well!”

“Wait, Silas,” Wendell started.

Frowning, “What? Is my coin not good enough for you?” Grey brows billowed forward in anger, “Why you haughty little…”

“Silas, NO! I’m grateful for the coin. I ACCEPT your coin! I do!!”

Brows popped up, facial hair parting into a wide grin. “I knew you weren’t completely daft.”

Wendell set down his mug and then assisted Silas in finding a more stable place to sit. “I told you before I started working, that I didn’t need the coin—so I’m wondering if you would give it to someone I think needs it more than myself?”

Silas slumped down into his chair, staring up blankly at Wendell. For fear a minute he just stared with mouth open, making faint wheezing noises as he breathed.

“Silas?”

Blinking, “Hell I don’t care, boy. I’ll give it to Mouse if you want—it’s your money. Though I daresay he’s likely to blow it on ale and pig-skin chews.”

At the mention of chews, Mouse’s head popped up in the corner—to which Silas pointed at the canine and yelled, “HAH!”

“I was thinking of Elsa, Silas. She works hard and takes care of those children, so I thought I could give it to her, through you. You know—without her knowing?”

“Without her…you mean you want me to give this to her, as…”

Wendell nodded, “As if it was coming from you, not me.”

Silas nodded, “Oh. I see.” But the nod immediately changed to a head shake. “Can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I already do that.” Looking at the pouch in his palm, Silas wrapped his fingers about the coin and squeezed. “Good man, that Jan. Started working for me since the mill burned down and he’s hardly kept a coin but to pay for bare necessities.” Looking up, he wagged an index finger in Wendell’s face, “Loves that girl, no matter what he says—but he’s proper! Would never be forward with her, nor should he!”

Grabbing Wendell’s hand, he slapped the coin pouch into his palm, “So you want to help someone? Then you should give this to him.”

Wendell helped the old man sink back into the chair, wrinkled eyelids evidently too heavy to remain open. Pulling a blanket from an open shelf, he covered Silas and left him to snore off his celebration.

The coin purse wasn’t light.

How much did Silas pay his workers? Smiling at the old man, “I think giving this to Jan is a good idea.”

“I’m telling you, he doesn’t understand what’s going on! We need to tell him—”

Wendell’s head popped upright. “Hello?”

“Just because you’re a paranoid coward doesn’t mean I should follow your bad example.”

Stepping to the front door, Wendell pushed it open slowly.

“Who’s there?”

The two lanterns Silas hung from his front porch didn’t give much light except to maneuver around the front door. Three sets of posts lined the path up to the barn—each holding a squat lantern perched on its top. He’d lit these himself just before darkness set in, but again, the light wasn’t very strong.

The tree line paced anxiously in the wind, swaying branches ready to attack anyone who got too close.

“I know,” came the voice again, clearly ringing out from the forest, “but he doesn’t even know what this means, Green. He’s gonna get hurt!”

It’s that same voice, Wendell realized. The one that’s been following me about and spying on me!

Stepping off the porch of the cabin, he wandered out to the first set of posts and stood between the lanterns. “I know you’re out there,” he called out, “I can hear you.”

The high-pitched voice stopped abruptly.

Inching to the edge of the light, “Y-you can come and talk to me. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

A gust of wind thrust between the buildings, kicking up dust and dead leaves.

…and it laughed.

“He won’t hurt us?” A loud snort echoed from a new location in the darkness, “Yes that IS funny, you moron! And for the record, you’re the one following the kid, not me…let’s get that straight right here, right now.”

Alright, he grumbled to himself, you don’t want to come out into the open, fine. Let’s see what happens when I do this!

The tree line immediately came into view as a large globe of pure white light flashed to life at the forest edge.

“EEP!” squealed the voice.

Wendell noticed several bushes wiggle and bounce about.

“THERE you are!” he exclaimed. Yet Wendell squinted and stared at the bushes that had moved—and saw…nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Dashing to the forests edge, Wendell hunted through the trees and peered in the bushes. Using his will, he pushed the light to move with him, turning like a flashlight wherever he looked.

“Gone,” he grunted, disappointed. “Where the heck could you have gone?”

“Wendell,” called Bartleby from the barn, “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” he frowned, “it’s me.”

“Can you help me get this extra chair secured?” Appearing in the barn doorway, he held a tangled rope in his hands. “I think I’m making matters worse,” he sighed in frustration.

Wendell let the light die down and wandered back to the barn. I know what you mean.

Mouse stood up from his nap and stretched, letting his tongue roll out with a giant yawn.

Wendell chuckled and started to yawn himself. “Hey you—don’t do that—you’re making me tired now!”

Bartleby chuckled as he tossed the rope up and over the wagon. “Shouldn’t matter much now that your day is done, right?”

Wendells stomach grumbled. “Other than getting some dinner, I guess not.” He allowed himself to yawn once more, then, “Hey Jan—Silas is out cold. Let’s go get some dinner at the Den, I’m buying.” He looked to the gnome and gave a slight bow, “Present company is also invited, of course.”

Bartleby looped the rope over the legs of the chair and then gave Wendell a slight now in return. “Appreciate that, but I agreed to meet with my brothers this evening. We have some things to discuss with Silas.”

Wendell took the rope and tightened it around one of the posts protruding from the side of the wagon. “Not sure you’ll get much out of an unconscious old man. Silas drank himself to sleep.”

“Hmmm. Sadly I’ll still have to pass. We’re scheduled to leave in the morning, so there are things to organize. Have to get these items back before the heavy snowfall starts. As much as I like you all, I have no desire to stay through the winter.”

Wendell tossed the rest of the rope into the back of the wagon, “Shame. Would like to have a good visit before you leave.” Walking around the back of the wagon, he held out his hand. “It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you, Bartleby.”

The gnome gripped Wendell’s hand firmly. “Same, my friend.”

“Jan, let’s hit the road—I’m starving!” Wendell cried out.

“Uhhh,” Bartleby started, “Jan left.”

“Left?”

The gnome nodded. “He didn’t look too happy, either. Said he needed to make some things right.”

Wendell frowned. Make some things…oh no. Please don’t tell me you—but he didn’t need to finish the thought.

He knew exactly where Jan had gone.

“Come on, Mouse—I think our friends need some help.”

Wagging his massive tail, the canine trotted over to Wendell’s side, tongue hanging out in mild interest.

Bartleby hopped down from the wagon, “Trouble?”

Wendell shrugged, “I’m not sure. Unfortunately, there’s only one way to find out.”

****

With only Mouse at his side, Wendell maintained a steady pace and sprinted down the mountainside towards the village.

For once, he decided not to assume anything and kept his mind clear.

Well, clear-ish.

Allowing his own breath and the echo of his footfalls in this chest to set the rhythm, Wendell pondered on the events that surrounded him since he’d arrived in Putäyäl.

The village didn’t seem to be having any problems until I showed up. Or at least that’s what a handful of people growled at me, anyway. So I don’t have anything to confirm or deny that.

The first time he’d seen the wolves, which the village was complaining about, was the night Sawyer had beaten Wendell up.

No, that’s not correct, he reminded himself. I didn’t actually see the wolves attack.

He’d heard the howling all around and approaching. What he’d seen was one of the men being pulled into the darkness. He’d heard a great deal of screaming…and an incredible amount of blood.

But he hadn’t actually seen a wolf.

Plus that didn’t make sense—the wolves wouldn’t attack the villagers. At least not unless the people attacked them first.

The ridge-wolves had saved him.

More than once.

In the woods, when the robe first spoke to Wendell. On the log bridge. After he fell into the river—according to Jan—the alpha had even pulled him from the water to safety.

Not to mention the alpha coming to me for help.

The thought of the canines hurting the villagers was possible, sure—these were dangerous predators. Many of the trappers had been wounded in the attempt to kill and trap the wolves—but that was self-defense, not attacks.

Yes, the wolves could have hurt villagers, but it was also plausible.

They didn’t hurt Jan when he picked me up and brought me to Elsa’s, and they didn’t hurt the child. Even though the mother has accused the beasts of carrying off her child, there was no evidence. When confronted later—the mother had not actually seen the wolves grab her child.

He rounded the bend in the road, his feet maintaining the steady pace. He could already see the soft glow of the village through the trees.

What does all of this have in common? That’s the real question here.

But Wendell already knew the answer to that question.

It’s me.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

YOU ARE TOO LATE, BOY.

Wendell’s stomach lurched painfully, his feet fumbling in stride, forcing him to skid to a halt.

YOU CANNOT HELP THEM.

Mouse planted his paws squarely next to Wendell, ears rolled back and lips rolled back to reveal sharp teeth. He let out a growl from the center of his chest.

Snatching up a branch from the ground, Wendell sent flicker of will to its tip, a bright light, yellow at the center flailing.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

CONTROL OF WILL. AGAIN I AM IMPRESSED.

“What do you want!?!” Wendell choked, waving the torch about him. The wild swings caused shadows to jump between the trees. “SHOW YOURSELF!”

SUCH COURAGE.

SUCH BRAVERY.

SUCH A PITY.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

A lump rose into Wendell’s throat. “What?”

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

WE WILL TALK SOON ENOUGH, YOUNG HERO.

FOR NOW, IT IS NOT YOU THAT I HUNT…WENDELL THE GNOLAUM.