CHAPTER 7

FRESH START

You can’t walk away from what you were meant to do.

What you were meant to be.

You can take a break—but only fools try to avoid what they were meant to become. Sooner or later, the Universe will arrange circumstances to guide you back to the path you are meant to take.

Unfortunately the experiences may not be altogether pleasant.

…or pleasant at all.

“Are you alright, Wendell?”

The smell of the mint tea sent chills down his spine. Just like home on a winters morning. He smiled into the cup and took a sip, ignoring everything until Isma put her hand on his shoulder.

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. Was…just enjoying this tea. I love mint.”

“Mint?” Hadden asked.

Oops. Keep forgetting. Not everything is called the same thing here. He nodded quickly, “Yeah. Well, it’s the name my mom gave this hot drink.”

“Ah.”

Funny thing was, it was only now that Wendell noticed that many things were called the same as back home. Goats, cows, bows, arrows, sword, hammer…so many aspects of this world were the same as Earth. It got him thinking about original thought, or if there really was such a thing?

Or are you maybe translating for me? he asked the Ithari, fingers delicately scratching the surface of his chest where the gem lay hidden.

Wendell didn’t expect an answer, of course, but there was so much he didn’t know that he needed to know, but didn’t know how to get to know. So he needed someone who knew to let Wendell know what he needed to know.

Ya know?

Isma set the pot down and started clearing the table. “You don’t look like you got much sleep last night. Was the cot uncomfortable?”

Another sip, “Wha—no, oh no. I mean, yes. The cot was fine, thank you. It’s…I haven’t been sleeping much at all for the past couple weeks.” He looked down into the cup. “Bad dreams.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Isma replied softly. “My gran used to say that bad dreams were the gods way of warning you of things to come. Things you needed to watch out for.”

Hadden snorted into his cup. “Your gran also drank too much.”

“Hadden!”

Winking at Wendell, “And the whole town knew it, too.”

A soft giggle escaped the woman's lips. “Stop it! That’s not very nice, mister, especially when she adored you so much.”

“Welllll, she was a nice drunk.”

Rolling her eyes, “Where will you go?” Isma asked, taking Wendell’s empty plate.

“Oh let him be,” Hadden grinned, “Wendell’s a man who knows what he wants and will make it happen, one way or another.”

I sure wish that was true. Wendell looked up and gave his hostess a broad grin. “Thank you for that amazing breakfast. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home cooked meal. Forgot how wonderful it could be.” He smiled weakly, thoughts of his mother flashing through his mind.

He pushed them out.

“You’re always welcome here, you know that Wendell.”

“I appreciate that, Isma. I’m grateful for the ride away from the market, and letting me help you get out from under Dodie. She’s not one you want to be entangled with.”

Hadden laughed loudly, “Got that right. Those crooks she uses are going to be very disappointed to know they won’t get their hands on this farm, thanks to you.” Leaning forward in his chair, he stared at Wendell for a long moment. “You sure you want to go through with this?”

Every time he thought of Dodie McGlynn, the anger welled up inside. He’d never felt this way before, but the threats made against Alhannah and Höbin stuck in his mind. If there was a way to throw a wrench in the old hags plans, Wendell wanted to take it.

“Positive. So long as this can’t come back to hurt you.”

“Hurt us?” Hadden scoffed, “They show up on our farm two seasons ago, ask me if I wanted to increase my profits by growing a rare herb high in demand. They tell me they don’t have the right soil to grow the herbs properly, so they decide to hire mountain farms to do it for them.

“It sounded good enough at first, but I should have learned when they sold me the seeds and then required me to meet a certain yield each season. They’ll buy all the plants at a hefty price, but only if there’s enough of them. Otherwise they tell me they’re forced to buy from other farmers to cover my personal shortage. If the cost goes up for them, profits go down for us.”

Wendell frowned, “Is that normal practice?”

“Well no,” grunted Hadden, “but here’s the part I can’t prove: the plants aren’t meant for this climate, so I’m lucky to grow half the quota they give me, no matter what I try. When I come back for new seeds, they charge me a higher price. When I can’t pay for the seeds, they tell me it’s ‘not a problem’ and mark down my debt on a ledger.”

Hadden grit his teeth, “Worst part is, most of the connections I built with my own herbs have moved on. They won’t buy or sell to me any longer.”

“You’ll win them back,” grinned Isma, “especially since Wendell is sponsoring us now. All you need is a little time.”

Wendell sat back on his chair, rapping his fingers on the table. Man oh man, I hope this works. “None of this would have been possible without Woods help, so honestly, I think we all owe him. But he now has a written agreement to purchase all your original healing herb crops, regardless of the harvest. He will also settle your debt directly with Dodie, so you don’t have to be involved. I’m covering him through a side arrangement, so my name stays out of it and in the end, you have your freedom and Mrs. McGlynn gets the boot!”

Hadden shot a curious look at his wife, then frowned at Wendell. “What boot?

“What?”

“Why would Dodie want a boot? She wants herbs or coin.”

Wendell smirked, “It’s an expression where I come from. It means she will be kicked out of the way.”

Both farmers grinned wide.

“I like the sound of that,” Isma giggled. Then with a deep breath threw her arms around her husband from behind. “Annnnd, I like this adorable little toy you gave us,” shaking a Phhhht! doll in one hand. “Perfect for a little someone…if that someone decides to come along soon?” She batted her long lashes at her husband.

Hadden rolled his eyes. “You are an overly generous person, Wendell.”

“Nah. It wasn’t me,” Wendell shrugged, “The money was a gift to me. What good does a resource do if you can’t help someone else? Besides, if this all goes right, and you truly grow good herbs, Wood is going to make money for all of us.” Grabbing a scroll sitting on the table, he unrolled it. “So, your farm is located in…”

“Dur.” Patting his wife’s hand, Hadden freed himself and leaned forward, pointing at the map. “We’re at the edge of the forest of Rock Ridge. Here. If you walk north for a day, you’ll come to the merchant road. You can’t miss it. That’s the most sure way up the mountain. Well traveled. You might even get yourself a ride.”

Wendell frowned. A day walking north, maybe more, just to find a road? It’s shorter to cut through the forest and just meet the road that way, isn’t it? “What if I traveled Northeast?”

Hadden tapped the small trees on the map, “Just over the hills out back is this ridge, right here. Walk for an hour at most and you’ll hit the edge of the woods. The forest goes on further than the map shows you, just so you know…I haven’t been over the peak.”

“And there’s a village there? A place I could stay?”

“It’s called Putäyäl…means ‘wood under foot’, but those who don’t live there call it Woodcarver Cove. Best artisan carvers this kingdom’s ever produced have come from that old village.” Hadden sat back in his chair, Isma wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders again. “Bought Isma’s rocking chair and hope chest from those folks. Decent people. Like to keep to themselves, mostly, but learned real quick that they don’t take kindly to strangers, wholly distrust races other than human,…and they have a hatred for magic.”

“Really.”

“I inherited my port key from my uncle before he passed. He transported rare cloth and tailor supplies for years to the market. When I started trading my own herbs, I bought a few items to use here at home. Fire stones, a light stone, common items folks like to get. Well, I was using a light stone when I rode into Woodcarver Cove to buy Isma’s chair. The old man who sold the chair to me took one look at the light stone and told me to get out of town before he sent his dogs after me.” Shaking his head, “Just like that. Said he didn’t want nothing to do with the unnatural, then slammed the door in my face.”

“It was rude,” Isma chimed in.

Hadden patted her hand, “Naw. People just have different experiences, that’s all. Some folks just don’t want what’s different in their life, so they choose to live how they want. Can’t spite a person for wanting to build a life they want.”

No magic? You mean I can just be…me? Sounds like my kind of place. Wendell traced the distance with his finger. The trek doesn’t look too bad. Enough food, some water…the elements shouldn’t be a problem with my mägoweave. “You…think I could find work there?”

Hadden grunted. “That I couldn’t say. But if its work you want, there’s plenty available here if you’re not afraid of building a few muscles. You could almost guarantee your return.” Hadden grinned behind the challenge.

Wendell grinned back, but shook his head, tapping his index finger on the map. “Thanks, but no. I’m looking for…”

“Seclusion,” Hadden cut him off, “I know. So you said.” He studied Wendell for a moment, staring at the fancy clothes, then added, “You alright?”

Wendell never looked up. “Alright?”

“I mean, you’re not in trouble or anything are you? Running from the law maybe…”

“Hadden Piatt!” Isma squeaked, jabbing him in the arm. “He just saved our farm, put you into business and you’re accusing him of being some kind of criminal?”

Wendell casually rolled up the map and stood up, adjusting his cloak. He noticed the smiley face had closed its eyes and was silently slumbering in peace. I know just how you feel, buddy. It’s nice to not be so stressed for a change.

“It’s okay, Isma,” Wendell assured, “I’d be leery myself if someone showed up with so much money, tossing it around and wanting a way to leave in a hurry. But no, I’m not in trouble.” He stared at the large farmer without blinking. “I’m just sad and tired. My,” he tried to think of the right words, “family…has pretty big expectations of me and I just don’t know that I can meet them.” He shrugged, “So I thought I’d distance myself for a while. Think things through without the pressure before I show up to discover my fate.”

“You’re off to find your own path.” Hadden added.

“Something like that.” Wendell shrugged, “At least take a break to clear my thoughts—look at my options.”

The farmer held out a large, calloused hand. “Then I wish you the best of luck, my friend. If you come back around this way in a month or so, you’ll be in time for the great race down in Andilain. You’d be welcome to ride down with us.”

“Great race?”

Hadden laughed out loud, “Goodness Wendell, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten The Race of Seven Sons is this winter!? We’ve been saving up for the past four seasons to celebrate the festival…in the capital this time!”

Isma gave a little squeal and danced in place. “You didn’t spend it?”

Her husband gave her a quick wink. “Just pretended it didn’t exist. Have every single coin. We’re going to stay in a lodge, no making meals, hot cider and candied apples til our bellies burst.”

“Weeeeeeee!” she squealed.

Wendell shook his head in embarrassment and grabbed the farmers hand gratefully. “Sorry, Hadden, my mind just isn’t working like it should. So caught up in finding my way without my family around, I couldn’t name a single festival right now if I tried.”

The farmer squeezed Wendell’s hand firmly, “You have everything you need?”

Wendell nodded. “Isma packed me some food and one of your blankets,” he grinned at the woman. “I should be good until I make it to the village.”

“My offer stands. You show up, you have a ride. Deal?”

Wendell gave the handshake his best, manly effort. “Deal.”

****

Wendell was pleasantly surprised how good of shape he was in.

After all the exercise and stress from his adventuring, he’d developed quite a few new muscles. Well, he probably had the muscles, but he didn’t realize he had them until now.

Though his walking was brisk since he’d left the farm, he’d hardly broken a sweat, enjoying the cold breeze on his face and open fields as he went. With such a fast pace, it had only taken him 90 minutes or so to reach the ridge of the forest.

Walk a day just to find a road? How does that make any sense? If it winds up this mountain, then cutting across it should bring me right to the road. Right?

He looked around at the extensive company of nobody surrounding him, then nodded to himself. You are RIGHT Mr. Dipmier, sir!

Setting his leather bag down against the line of trees, he stretched out his arms and sucked in the air.

It felt good to be walking out in the open.

No, he corrected himself, it feels fantastic.

Beautiful trees, chirping birds, and small animals scattering about just enlivened the landscape. The mägoweave also had a wonderful advantage—which Wendell never truly appreciated until now. Even when wading through the horrible blizzard just outside Til-Thorin, he hadn’t noticed how comfortable he felt temperature wise. But now, out in the open with no tent, no sleeping bag, the magical cloth truly shined.

The chill wind—with winter creeping upon the land—had absolutely no affect. Sure, he could still feel the actual cold on his face, but for some reason it didn’t bother him. He knew it was cold, it felt cold, but…touching his own face, he only felt warmth in both hand and cheek.

Amazing.

The experiences over the last few months had been alien to Wendell, until he started hiking in the fields of grass. Armies and S.L.A.G.s, giant carnivore warriors and crazy old wizards…

It all felt distant now.

Taking a deep breath through his belly and then his lungs, Wendell flung his arms outward, let his head fall back, stretching his muscles…and laughed.

The rolling hills and open valley behind him looked like the wheat and corn crop fields back home. Massive white clouds and open sky overhead seemed to stretch on forever, just like his memories of Montana.

Fact was, just from first glance, he could have been anywhere in the midwest right now.

…but he wasn’t.

His smile vanished.

I’m on an alien world…and I’m never going home again.

This was home.

To the Southwest, a beautiful valley that stretched on as far as the eye could see.

To the Northeast, the forest rose higher and higher until stone and trees broke through the soil, jutting out, reaching desperately into the sky.

Home.

“And it’s just you and me, Ithari.” He tapped the gem in his chest with an index finger. “So if you want my opinion, I think we ought to start learning how to communicate.”

Wendell took out his crude map and checked it again. We’re taking the short cut! Ohhhh yeahhhh. Just cut through the forest and keep going north—and I should intersect the main road. Right?

He looked around again at no one and nodded to himself.

Right!

“We have plenty of time to talk, now that we’re alone, Ithari. You want to go first?” He added casually, “I’m assuming you know more about me than I know about you. Course, I have lips and you don’t, so maybe I have the advantage here. I am willing to let you go first though…”

He paused, turning his ear to the wind, eyes wide, brows arched. After a few moments, he shrugged, “Well, we have time. Going to be a long walk.” He waved his hand about wildly, “No, no, don’t get up—I’ll carry us both.”

Grabbing his sack, he slung it over his shoulder and looked up.

The forest was, for lack of a better word, huge.

Not just the number of trees, but the sheer size of the plants. Once Wendell stepped into the trees they all but blotted out the sky overhead. Branches stretched out like grasping arms, weaving together overhead, creating a tight canopy of branch and leaf. Across the forest floor, equally impressive plants jutted up between rock and root. Flower stocks taller than Wendell looked down on him, swaying in open mockery.

Feel like I’ve been zapped with a shrink ray.

Even at noon day, deep shadows crept among the forest, and except for the hill rising to the east, he could see how one might get lost. With little room to maneuver between the underbrush, Wendell quickly felt intimidated.

And that’s where you want to go. It was more of a statement than a question. Keep the hillside to your right and you’ll find yourself on the merchant road before long, Wendell. That’s it.

Find the road and we find the village. Then you can be alone for a time. Alone to sort out your thoughts and just be a normal person for a while.

Normal? Was that even possible?

“What’s so normal about walking about with a diamond embedded in your chest?”

Tha-thump-thump.

Wendell stopped mid-step. “Wait. Did you just respond to me?”

Nothing.

“Hello?” he added, this time just above a whisper. “Can you hear me?”

Tha-thump-thump.

Birds scattered to the winds as he let out a mountain-shaking scream. “WAAAAAHOOOOOOO! You DO talk!!”

Nothing.

Recovering his composure, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

“Sorry for shouting. I…just want to make sure that I’m actually experiencing this like I think I’m experiencing this. So…you, Ithari, can hear and understand me?”

Tha-thump-thump.

It was a silly statement. Of course you can hear and understand me. You’ve done it on and off since I got here, but…can you hear me now?

Tha-thump-thump.

Sweet! Oh…duh. You talked to me when I was in the Key, with the High Elder.

Tha-thump-thump.

The sensation was soft and warm. An almost tingling sensation Wendell could feel from his waist, all the way up his spine and into his skull. Much like a tiny stimulation of electricity, but enjoyable. There was also a measure of peace that accompanied each sensation.

Wendell wiped the moisture from his eyes.

“You have no idea how happy this makes me.” Pausing, “Okay, that sounds kinda stupid, but I’m guessing that maybe you know how I feel?”

Tha-thump-thump.

Wow. He grinned, then coughed to clear his throat. “Sure glad no one can see me like this,” he said softly. I’m not alone.

You are never alone.

Wendell nearly lost his footing, the words were so clear.

Clear to his mind, clear to his heart, the voice was soft, soothing and unmistakably…female.

His hand quickly covered his chest where the Ithari sat as part of him. “You’re…real.”

Good freaking grief Wendell, what a thing to SAY,…of COURSE you’re real. But, uhhh, I mean…you’re actually alive…here, with me…and I can…

Talk with me? Yes.

Sounds faded and the majesty of the forest blurred.

All that mattered at that moment was that still, small voice and the warm sweetness touching Wendell’s heart when she spoke.

Why…haven’t you talked to me until now?

You could not hear me.

What do you mean couldn’t hear you? I’ve been screaming for you and needing your help since I GOT here!

I’ve been chased by Vallen, manipulated by wizards, chained up and tortured at the hands of psychotic gnomes and government agencies… he paused to gather his thoughts.

It almost hurts to learn that I wasn’t alone the whole time. To struggle so hard and to feel so desperate, so often, and you were there the whole time.

Yes.

Just watching.

And waiting.

Waiting? For what!? For Kyliene to die? To watch a boy die in the arms of his mother just feet away from us? Because the way I see it, that just reconfirms…

No.

“No?” Wendell leaned against a tree, clenching his eyes tight. “What do you mean, no?”

You are not useless.

You are never helpless.

“How can you SAY that?!” he snapped.

Because you are more than you think you are.

Well THAT’S not hard! If you’re in my thoughts, you’ve probably noticed I’m not exactly my own biggest fan! Gripping the bag tighter, he marched briskly into the forest, stomping through the underbrush.

Everything I’ve ever done has been a flop. I was a complete joke back home, then what…I get in the way of the great plan of your worlds hero? Wendell snorted loudly, Yeah, score another one for Wendell P. Dipmier.

You are the hero.

The argument was pointless.

Right or wrong, Wendell had usurped the job meant for someone else. It’s not like there was a choice at this point and he knew it. The choice not to go home had already been made, back in the Bedurrim, in front of the Iskari High Council.

Sure, he could change his mind, but…that wasn’t him. It wasn’t how Wendell had been raised. How his mother and father had taught him.

“What is wrong with you,” he scolded himself, “you’ve been over this time and again. Get over it!”

With all the problems around him and who knows what challenges in front of him, it felt like the only thing he actually had left, was his word.

His promise.

To do whatever it took to help this world overcome the evil growing in it and attacking it.

Then why did doubt always creep back into his mind and heart?

What if you’re wrong, Ithari? What if I fail and people are hurt? His mind raced with thoughts of Dax, Alhannah, the soldiers at Til-Thorin…Kyliene. People have already died because of me!

In spite of you.

In spite of me?

Wendell’s pace slowed. It was true that he wanted to get as far away from the main areas of civilization as possible. Get away from people he could hurt or even put in jeopardy.

“So what did you mean by ‘I couldn’t hear you’?”

Nothing.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

Great, conversation just got started and now it’s over? One thing was certain—Wendell would look quite odd walking around a village talking to himself. That’s all he needed to impress the locals.

He looked down at his clothes.

Ungh. I still look more like some dignitary than an adventurer.

The smiley face upon the broach yawned sleepily…then gave a silent gasp. Eyes popping open, they shivered and trembled.

Think about what you want. Know what you need and expect it to happen.

Wendell held the image firmly in his mind.

His cape started shrinking.

You can do this, Wendell. Don’t just believe…know you can do this. You’ve done it before, you can do it again!

Slowly the folds of cloth ruffled, rolling down over the front of his chest.

Wendell clenched his eyes tight. Concentrate!

A tingle ran over the ends of his fingers, over his toes and even down his spine…but he clenched his eyes tighter, holding the image in his mind until the sensations stopped altogether.

Opening his eyes, he looked down.

“YES!!”

A heavy fur coat of dark brown wrapped around his chest, large straps across both waist and torso. Thick leather gloves covered his hands, while heavy boots hugged his feet and calves, soles already providing support to his sore feet.

Wendell also noticed the glint of steel.

“A knife?” Reaching down, he drew the small blade. “Well I’ll be! Just like…” he patted his side and felt another blade—though this one was bigger. A bowie knife.”

He looked like a mountain trapper.

“Sweet!”

Now you look the part of a real wanderer, he told himself.

****

For hours Wendell focused on the changing scenery.

The layered foliage created a spring under his boots, the top soil thick with needles, leaves, and twigs from decades of growth. It made for comfortable walking. Huge bulbs of what he guessed were mushrooms poked out at the base of trees, showing flashes of blue, purple, and chestnut brown.

The higher he climbed, the more the season seemed to change around him. Green faded to yellow and shades of orange.

He paused several times to try and get his bearings—which was virtually impossible. The only real indications he was traveling in a singular direction came from pushing to higher ground and keeping the mountain on his right. There was no sign of the valley. Not through the dense trees. Nor could Wendell see exactly where he was going.

“Way to go, Wendell,” he grunted loudly. “Another fantastic decision. Let’s take the LONG shortcut, shall we?”

You know this would be a lot more enjoyable if we were still having a conversation.

But the Ithari didn’t reply, no matter how long he waited.

He sighed, working around the end of a deep and precarious ravine. “Then I’m going to pretend that you’re like any OTHER girl I’ve met, who is speechless when I appear and take over the conversation altogether. Mmm-Hmm, that’s what I’ll do.” He nodded to himself. “Oh, Wendell, that sounds like a wonderful idea to me!” he replied in a high-pitched tone. “Why don’t you share your inner most thoughts with me…”

The air was getting thin, making it a bit challenging to breathe, which forced Wendell to stop more frequently. It was amusing to see each breathe rolling out like thick steam from his lungs, tumbling into the air and fading into nothing.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you, doing in an intimidating forest like this?”

He snorted.

That doesn’t even apply here, now does it? You’re not like any other girl I’ve ever met, Ithari. Not even close,. Maybe we should try this again.

Bitting his bottom lip, Wendell fought not to laugh. “I actually know why no one talks to you. You’re a hard-nose, Ithari. Cold, refuse to talk to those around you. Heck, talk about shy—you hide from people!”

Nothing.

“Fine,” he chortled, “I give up. For now.”

Tha-thump-thump.

I heard that.

Snow littered the ground in random patches, the crunch of dry leaves and twigs under foot giving way to the sloshing of mud. Even then, Wendell didn’t mind.

The mägoweave kept him perfectly dry and comfortable.

Even if he wasn’t able to transform the cloth to his will—the fact that it defied the very elements, keeping him warm regardless of the weather—well, that was outright amazing.

Leaning against a large rock jutting out from the hillside, Wendell took out one of the sandwiches Isma had prepared for him and started eating.

I think you would have liked this place, dad. Even with all its dangers, this is turning out to be a beautiful world and…he swallowed, a lot like Earth in many ways…but better.

That was a curious thought which he decided to follow.

This world still had evil and crime, people who were selfish and even dangerous, but there were other aspects of this planet Wendell suddenly noticed he’d taken for grated.

There’s no social media stacking you in the face at every turn, or media stations try to sell you some narrative so they can feed you whatever agenda they’re working on today. No cell phones or internet, which, surprisingly I don’t miss—at all.

That was weird.

Life was…slower here, and Wendell loved it.

Letting his head fall back, he stared upward.

Funny how you can read fantasy books all your life, imagine and even dream of an adventure like this and then suddenly find that life isn’t what you think it is.

It’s better.

Magnificent adventures all around us, ready to be experienced and conquered.

Even without the magic and creatures wanting to eat his face, the real adventure came in the relationships and growth opportunities. It didn’t have to be S.L.A.G.s, it could have been learning how to ride a motor-cross dirt bike, like he’d always wanted to try. And it didn’t have to be Lili, it could have been any beautiful, wonderful, intelligent, mesmerizing…

Wendell sighed heavily. Okay, Lili’s one of a kind.

A single snowflake landed on his eyelash, causing him to blink. Up above, through the fluttering leaves and branches, Wendell could make out the brilliant white billowing clouds rolling across the sky.

Clouds collecting overhead, turning the few patches of blue left, into a smokey grey. Shadows crept across the forest floor, swallowing up its light.

Choking it out.

Dax lay in a bed, who knows how far away now, lingering at the edge of death.

It was funny how not many months ago Wendell couldn’t even stand his guardian. Kidnapped from Earth…teleported to the other side of the universe to be thrown at the feet of the Iskari.

Wendell took another bite of his food, though he laughed silently as he chewed.

Sliding across the stone floor—thinking Dax was going to eat him. Sure, Dax wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but it turned out he wasn’t all bad. He’d finally grown to like Wendell.

The feeling was mutual.

The tough guy attitude wasn’t an act, though. Wendell had watched Dax’s might and fierceness in battle—and how scary the evolu could be when using his teleportation powers in conjunction with his prowess in battle.

Dax had proven to be a true friend.

Risking his own life, not only to discover where the last Demoni Vankil seal was…but to assist Chuck in saving Wendell’s life.

To bring him back from wherever his mind had been trapped.

Wendell frowned.

Trapped?

No, he hadn’t been…was he trapped? Someone had been there. Talked with him?

Was that you with me, when I was dead?

Nothing.

The though nagged at him.

But something pulled the question from his mind.

The group had ventured to Clockworks City, where Dax knew they would be hated, feared, but he went anyway.

Wendell took another bite.

They’d gotten themselves caught.

Alhannah also knew the risks and had assisted the party in their goals—giving up her fame, fortune and reputation….also risking her life for Wendell.

…but it was more than that.

Alhannah was eager to take Wendell under her wing. From the moment they’d met the two had become fast friends and she was willing to teach Wendell anything he needed. If she had the knowledge or skill, it was his, no questions asked.

He was accepted and cared for as part of her family.

What have I done?

Looking around him, all he could see was a looming darkness throughout the forest, waiting to consume him.

Crap. What have you done, Wendell? You just walked out on them!

No, he shook his head, This won’t do any good. I didn’t walk out on them. There’s nothing I can do FOR them!

His mind flashed to Alhannah’s sunken face. To the swollen yellowed eyes swimming in pain. And what about Dax? What about the pale grey body that had thrown itself between Vallen and Wendell…now limp and near lifeless?

Stop it, Wendell. There’s no way you could have prevented what happened, he told himself. Even if you wanted to, you didn’t know how. Chuck hadn’t taught you, your instructor was killed at Til-Thorin and this rock in your chest wasn’t speaking up!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Shadows grew darker, clawing across the forest floor towards him.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

“Oh shut UP already!” he snapped, then raised his hand overhead. “Välo!”

Light flared…and a dagger of pain plunged itself between his eyes.

“ARRRGH!”

Tiny spots of light danced along the corners of his vision as Wendell’s legs buckled beneath him. Searing pain shot from his brow, up over his head and clawed down his spine.

“AHHHHhhrrrrr! What is…going on!??” Wendell cried aloud, gripping his skull with both hands. Swaying from side to side, he tried forcing words from his lips.

“Lä-…Läkä….ARGH!!” Head thrown back, he cried out, “Läkätä!”

The light about him faded out, but not the pain.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Stumbling, his foot caught the edge of a tree root. Hands outstretched, Wendell tried to catch himself.

He missed.

Arching backward, the terrain vanished momentarily from underfoot, sending Wendell backwards, down a slope.

His temple met the trunk of a large tree on the way down, sending him into a spin. “UNGH!”

Visions of running pulsed through his mind.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Panting.

Wounded.

Trying to escape.

Sweat trickled down his face and neck, pooling around his collarbone. His heart pounded louder and louder, racing so hard Wendell could feel the beat in his neck…in his temple.

It was then the vision took over—the real world fading from view.

Like waves of fog creeping down from the horizon, blackness washed over his field of vision. It quickly blotted out the trees, the sky….the growing snow at his feet.

Stumbling again, he slammed into another trunk. This time he threw his arms around it. Gloves gripped tightly.

Wendell gasped, trying to blink the pain from his skull, but the world was spinning out of control.

What’s happening to…

Again, like a blinding flash—an image flared in his mind, consuming his senses.

A forest.

The dark green of the leaves and pine needles saturated by the deep blues of nightfall. Somewhere in the distance was a sunset he couldn’t see.

It was cold.

Very cold.

Snow…all around him.

Wendell gripped the trunk tighter, his legs loosing their strength. Forcing long, drawn breaths through his nose, he let his head fall backwards, mouth open to exhale. Small snowflakes descended, landing on his tongue, cheeks and brow.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

“Ungh,” another wave of pain flashed—piercing his mind. This time it was followed by nausea.

Running.

He was running.

Wildly.

Through a forest.

Trying to get away.

Panting.

Scared.

No, not scared.

Terrified.

Gasping for breath, he didn’t care. He ignored the sharp pain in his side and pushed himself on.

He couldn’t stop.

He had to get away.

Running from…

Breathing. Deep, raspy…..labored breathing.

Something behind him.

Claws.

Hungry.

It wanted him.

“It’s him, I tell you,” came a high shrill voice.

Wendell couldn’t tell where the voice came from, though it sounded like whoever it was, they were in motion.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, I’m telling you, that’s him!”

“Hello?” Wendell called out weakly.

There was a long pause, and then, “Well of course he heard me, you moron—I was shouting!”

Trying to blink through the pain, “Hello? I…could use some help.”

Wendell flinched, almost losing his grip. Images thrust themselves into view once more.

“We’d like to,” called the voice, “but you look like your a bit busy, with your inner struggles and all. Best we not get infected, eh?”

Wendell flinched again, the stabbing pain piercing the base of his skull. “P-please? Could you help me…find my way to the…”

Another flash of pain, causing him to wince and grip his skull even harder.

It didn’t help.

Something was near.

Something evil.

…and it wanted to tear his flesh form his bones.

Wendell could feel it—his spine quivering.

I’ve gotta get out of here.

Flee…that was all that mattered.

Something hit him from behind—thin lines of pain that quickly turned to fire across his shoulders.

The mägoweave pulsed with his distorted thoughts—shifted over his skin…rippling to the convulsions of his agony.

“ARRGH!”

Spinning around, Wendell let go of the tree, grabbed the knife at his side and swung outward, nearly falling over.

His cry echoed through the forest, reverberating among the watching plants.

A distant howl answered in return.

“See? That’s why we don’t pick up hitchhikers,” mumbled the voice, though it sounded more distant this time. “You think they look safe and whoosh—they whip out a weapon and start hacking and who knows what! No manners anymore I’m telling, ya!” The voice paused, then, “Hero or not, that guy looks dangerous!”

Step after step Wendell pushed himself forward—trying to escape the vision around him, knife held waist high.

Hungry.

Wendell could feel it.

It was so hungry.

Blinking, he missed the edge of the ravine and tumbled forward.

Another howl.

Much closer.

With a ‘pwooof’ he hit the ground with his chest, knocking the wind from him before beginning his roll.

At the bottom of the ravine, his head met the most inconsiderate boulder.

It stopped his movement altogether.

Winter clouds continued to roll overhead, the open gash in Wendell forehead and cheek seeping blood freely into the snow beneath him.

“Well that’s not how I wanted to be introduced to the kid,” replied the shrill voice. “Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”