“Trust me Adelaide, even the most experienced travellers avoid the deep forest.”
If only she had listened to her father.
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Adelaide flicked the reins as they rounded a sharp corner, moving quickly between trees on the unmaintained path. Her horse—a white and black spotted pack horse named Sprig—was breathing hard but evenly, responding smoothly to each command. Despite this part being called the Dark Forest, it was even darker than she expected; tall, thick trunks wider than her arm span grew high into the sky, where the deep green foliage created a dense canopy. The light was hazy and diffused, giving the impression it was much later than it really was. Her wagon groaned and moaned behind her, but it was made of a sturdy fir and Adelaide knew it could take the strain. The wheels were another story and Adelaide cursed under her breath as she heard a wooden spoke crack. They continued to run as fast as Sprig could carry them.
A rumbling howl ripped through the trees. It wasn’t as close as before, but before she could relax, a much closer second and third howl responded to the first; one to her left, and one to the right.
Following the curve of the path, Adelaide flicked the reins again, harder this time, and her teeth rattled as the wagon bounced off stones and roots. Blood thundered in her ears, and she could feel her pulse in her fingertips. Her senses were on high-alert, and she tried to take in as much as possible; the beams of light that broke through the treetops; a sickly sweet smell coming from some plant deep in the woods; the crunch of twigs beneath Sprig’s hooves. The bushes and foliage flashed past her as they sped along. She and Sprig trusted each other, so as long as they worked together, they would get away.
I should’ve listened to Father and avoided this blasted forest. 36Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQDapDzbKD8
The path straightened out so she tightened the reins and they dashed forward. Adelaide checked over her shoulder and saw the tarp was secured tightly on the bed of the wagon save for one exposed corner, where a bundle of dried sausage lay exposed to the elements. Cutting through the dark forest with a shipment of fresh food was foolish, even by her standards.
She tutted. All to sell this measly shipment.
She began to slow, trying to listen for any more activity in her vicinity. The sounds were strangely muted, like she was the only thing making noise in the entire forest. Sprig’s ears were straight up and he whinnied to communicate his discomfort. Missing the cues, Adelaide slowed down even further, and her racing heart began to settle as multiple silent minutes passed. She tried to gauge how much daylight was left, but the thick tree-shade made it difficult to see much of the sky at all.
Sprig bucked again, harder this time.
Adelaide took her eyes off the road to take a sip from her water pouch. She was uncorking the lid when she caught a glimpse of movement ahead. Slowly lifting her head, she could barely register a white-grey shape gripping the side of a thick tree like a spider before she caught up to it.
In a single heartbeat, everyone was moving.
The shape—a wolf with still, beady yellow eyes—leapt forward just as Sprig bucked. The wagon lurched forward and a foot into the air, so the wolf missed Adelaide and slammed into the corner of the buggy, causing it to teeter before tipping over and landing hard on its side. Adelaide was thrown from the driver's seat, her legs tangled in the reins, and the tarp was ripped clean off, spilling the contents of the carriage everywhere; dried sausage, bundles of wheat and barley, and several sacks of onions made a mess of the road.
Adelaide rubbed the side of her head. Her ears were ringing, and she looked around frantically at the unfamiliar terrain. Sprig found his feet and tried to run away, dragging the overturned wagon and Adelaide with it. She drew the small hunting knife that was at her hip and sliced at the leather, succeeding in freeing herself while also puncturing her calf with the blade.
There was a yelping sound, and she saw one of the wolves laying on the ground cradling and licking a limb. A stream of blood ran down the back of her leg as she climbed to her feet.
That doesn’t sound like a wolf… it sounds like a-
The beast snarled as she approached, and where she was expecting something rabid and furry, she found a young child. It was a boy no older than ten, wearing a wolf pelt and nothing else, with sickeningly long nails and staring her down with too-big eyes that were an unnatural shimmering gold.
He barked at her, baring teeth that seemed to have been sharpened. His right leg was bent at an awkward angle and his fingertips were bloody, and the dirt smeared with streaks of red where he tried to claw at the ground. Behind her, Sprig whined and began to stomp, and just as she was about to tend to the horse, she noticed the boys' eyes flick to a spot behind her.
Adelaide spun just in time as another boy wearing the pelt of a black-wolf lunged at her, knocking her backward and on her back in the pile of spilled food. Onions mushed beneath her weight. The snarling wolf-boy approached preparing to pounce. Adelaide threw onions and sausages at him, but missed every one. Her sight was blurry with tears and her breathing was fast and sporadic.
The boy leapt into the air, so he closed her eyes and thrust with the knife. Sharp teeth burned as the wolf-boy sunk his teeth into her left shoulder, pulling with his inhuman might to rip the flesh out of her arm. The pain was blinding, but she felt warmth on her hands and opened her eyes to see blood flowing down her arms from where she stabbed the boy in the stomach. He refused to let go, rolling them both around in the food mush, so she withdrew the knife and thrust up again, and again, and again; seven times before his jaw slackened and he fell to the ground unmoving. She was covered in blood, both her own and the wolf boys.
She looked down at her stained hands and found she was able to easily identify what was not her blood. Like the first boy, this one also had eyes of piercing gold, but his blood was also a metallic red and glinted in the light.
Her knees wobbled and she collapsed, laying there breathing heavily. Each beat of her heart sending waves of nauseating pain through her pounding, muddled head. She could hear a third, distant howl.
Was that real? Or is that in my head? Sprig began stomping and whinneying. Damn. I was hoping it was in my head.
She pulled herself to her feet, finding her way into the saddle of her trusty steed before they kicked off down the road.
Father will be upset that I lost all that food, but he’ll be happier I escaped with my life. So far.
Adelaide wobbled in her saddle for the first little while, struggling to maintain concentration on the road ahead of her, but by the time the sun was actually setting, she had regained her wits for the most part. But she would need someone to examine her wounds as soon as possible. The missing chunk of flesh in her shoulder throbbed something fierce, and she felt early scabs splitting and stinging on the side of her head and calf.
There better be a village in this godforsaken forest.
And for better or for worse, there was.
Sprig trotted up the road carrying a woozy Adelaide. Her eyelids felt like lead, and it was difficult to maintain her concentration; more than once she had almost fallen out of the saddle. Bleary eyes passed over monotonous ambient scenery. Tree tops transitioning from rich green to yellow and orange, moss covered boulders where small birds sang, the tinkling of a small stream out of sight.
I cannot sleep yet. Make it to a village. I cannot sleep yet. Make it to a village. I cannot sleep yet. Make it to a village. I cannot sleep yet. Make it to a village. I cannot sleep yet. Make it to a village. I cannot sleep yet. Make it to a village.
Over and over she repeated the mantra to keep herself awake and fixated on her goal. She soon began to notice signs of human inhabitants, but they hardly eased the pit growing in her stomach.
She spotted images carved into the sides of trees. At first, it was small things like handprints, eyes, little birds, which gave way to darker things; a pregnant mother, an entire face that watched her as she passed, a gaping mouth that looked as if it were screaming. More than once she swore she saw a bone on the ground, too large to belong to a squirrel or another small mammal, but she told herself it was an old stick and pressed on.
Finally, she arrived at what looked to be a man-made path leading into the forest. Little wood birdcages hung from the trees above her, but she couldn’t hear any birdsong or chirping. Bird traps scattered near the trail caught Adelaide's attention. She watched a Wood Pigeon cautiously approach one, inspecting it before unwittingly stepping onto a wooden grate, which collapsed immediately. The bird plummeted into a small hole and a wooden lid snapped over the top, preventing escape. As Adelaide walked past, she could hear muffled, agitated chirping.
She had half a mind to get off the horse and free the bird, but as she put her foot in the stirrup, something in the woods made eye contact with her. The cold blade of fear pierced her heart, and she remained completely immobile while meeting the unwavering, yellow-gold gaze piercing through the dense foliage. She spurred Sprig forward while keeping her eyes locked on the spot, until the beast ducked away and disappeared further into the forest.
Adelaide’s heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her eyes, and all she could hear was a dull throbbing that drowned any other noise. Her wounds But as she calmed down, she realized the beating wasn’t her heart.
The forest was dead silent, save for the occasional crunch of twig or dead leaf on the ground. But as she followed the trail further and further into the dark woods, a resonant humming replaced the silence. No matter where she turned, the low hum drowned everything else out until it was all she could hear.
Finally, the trail opened up and revealed a village nestled in a spacious clearing at the base of a short incline. It was small, with no more than fifty buildings total, all made of the same dark wood. Curiously, only a few of the houses had smoke coming from the chimney, and from her vantage, Adelaide couldn’t spot a single person. It seemed empty, yet there were fires burning in the hearths and she could hear horses snorting in the stables.
Once she was in the town proper, she found the persistent humming was less bothersome, but that could very well be her brain tuning it out. She carefully climbed off Sprig, and upon setting her feet on solid ground, discovered that the omnipresent humming was coming from the earth itself, causing it to vibrate just enough to felt by her tired, aching feet.
She started toward the village with Sprig’s reins wrapped tightly around her wrist when-
“Hello there, would you like me to take your horse?”
Fear shot through her Adelaide’s body like lightning. Turning, she found a young man who looked to be in his twenties, not much older than she. He wore a black leather apron and leather gloves that extended over his elbows.
“I’d prefer to keep him with me.”
He smiled, staring at her with wide brown eyes. “The Erewacht don’t really like it when horses come into the village proper. It's customary to keep them in the stable for as long as you’re with us.”
“Um, is there any room for accommodation? I’d actually prefer to keep him with me.” The stable boy kept his gaze transfixed on her forehead.
“I must insist. Horses do not enter the village, only people.” He reached for the reins and Adelaide flinched back, one hand going to the knife at her belt. “Ah. That cannot enter either.”
“You can take Sprig, but I’m keeping the knife.”
He took a step toward her, and waited a beat before speaking. “Very well, I’d keep that out of sight if I were you. Some of our older residents might not react well if they saw it. Follow me.”
Adelaide reluctantly followed the boy, but she kept her guard up high.
Erewacht. I think… Adelaide tried to remember its meaning. It means awake, or eyes open? Something like that. They must be pagan and the Church hasn’t reached them since they’re so secluded
The thought did little to reassure her anxiety.
They walked the perimeter of the village, passing quaint farm houses and small patches of tilled land where the crops continued growing. One patch had red cabbage and white onions, while another had red onions and parsnips.
Why haven’t they harvested yet? Even I can see they’re ripe enough. Any longer and they will be too soft and taste like dirt.
She stepped on something hard, which responded with a metallic echo.
“What are these?” she asked, using her foot to brush dirt away. It was a copper tube the width of her wrist, and it had little spouts pointing into the soil.
He regarded her with an unreadable look. “A new irrigation system we’re trying.” He turned away and continued walking. She took the cue and didn’t ask any more questions, but now that she had spotted it, all she could see was the grid of copper lines crisscrossing through every single patch of farmland, even the large farmsteads.
Just ahead loomed a large stable made of black wood. Inside, several horses brayed and drank from a long water trough that ran the length of several stalls. She handed the reins over to the boy, running a gentle hand across Sprig’s long face and quickly running outside; the stench was making her eyes water and she already didn’t feel well.
The boy seemed to be staying behind, so she walked herself into the village. She darted her eyes back and forth, but there was little to see. The streets were bare strips of trampled earth separating identical, wood box buildings. She walked past a small blacksmith’s house where the front of the building was open, exposing the black and cold furnace that looked as if it hadn’t been lit in some time. No Blacksmith either.
There must be another Smith to forge those tubes, but how did they manage to get this much metal?
Everything was very still. The grass didn’t sway in the wind, nor did the rusty weather vane spin. The quiet hum became more noticeable on the bottom of her feet, but she had already tuned out the noise. Her wounds began to ache again.
She approached the centre of the village and spotted what appeared to be a general store. There was a sign bolted to the door, but the letters were faded, and a large crack ran lengthwise through the middle. She approached wearily but hopefully.
She strained to push open the heavy door that revealed a small store, though it was a stretch to call it even that. There was a counter in the middle of the room and the rest of the space was devoid of furniture or anything else that indicated human activity except for a door leading further into the dwelling. Sitting on the counter were a few odd belongings: one of the little birdcages hanging on the path into the village, a long rusty key, a left iron gauntlet and right pauldron, and a bowl with a fork and spoon resting inside. There was a filthy, solitary window by the door that permitted the bare minimum amount of light into the space, casting everything in brownish shadows.
The door creaked before slamming shut behind her, and a nerve-racked Adelaide almost screamed. Footsteps could be heard and a moment later, the other door flew open to admit the shopkeeper.
Adelaide could’ve jumped out of her skin. The person—a woman, but Adelaide wasn’t certain— was very tall, easily two feet taller than Adelaide herself, and very thin with pale greyish skin. Her wrinkled scalp was entirely visible through wisps of yellowing grey hair.
She took her place behind the “sales counter”. “Good evening, young one. What is your name?”
“Adelaide.” She gestured to her various injuries. “Is there a physician or a healer of some kind? I can pay.”
“I’m Kirsa, pleasure to meet you.” The woman smiled, revealing a rotting, hollow grin. “My daughter is a talented herbalist, and I’m sure she’ll help your…particular malady. Am I correct in assuming it is a wolf bite?”
Adelaide resisted the urge to touch the knife concealed under her tattered riding pants. Best not reveal it before it’s absolutely necessary.
She didn’t feel particularly comfortable letting another stranger touch her, but there wasn’t much other choice. Best not to give them a reason to harm. “If it’s not too much hassle.”
“Not at all my dear, please, follow me.”
Kirsa reopened the door she emerged from and motioned for Adelaide to follow. This room was artificially illuminated, with several candles scattered across the room. It was cramped, with one large bed tucked into the corner and several piles of identical clothing strewn all over. In the centre of the room was a small dining table, with candles and a half assembled meal, and a girl Adelaide’s age sewing a patch onto a torn tunic.
“Gerswith, we have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” the girl said, careening her head to get a good look at Adelaide while continuing to sew without looking. She looked significantly healthier than her mother, with bright brown-gold eyes, an intact smile, and black hair braided into a crown around her head.
“I’m told you’re a herbalist. I need someone to tend to my wounds.”
Gerswith’s eyes flicked toward her mother and back “Of course, take a seat and I will get my supplies.” She gave Adelaide a warm smile and disappeared out the back door.
Adelaide limped over to the small square table in the centre of the room. Around it were four short stools, but only two of which looked like they got any usage, and a partially eaten meal sat on dirty dishes. There were two glasses of some yellow liquid, which along with the other diningware, was promptly cleared away by Kirsa and brought into the front of the store. Swinging her legs under the table, she wacked something hard with her knee and it slammed hard into the ground.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, let me-”
“No! Let me, my dear” Kirsa said, putting a hand on Adelaide’s shoulder and fixing whatever it was. “That is my fault for leaving it open. Don’t worry yourself about it.”
Left it open? A basement perhaps?
Kirsa returned to her post by the door. Returning a moment later, Gerswith’s arms were full carrying bandages, a pair of gloves, a new roll of thread and clean sewing needles, and a potted plant, she set everything down on the small table next to a small candle. Pulling on the gloves, she plucked one of the leaves and rubbed it against the cut in Adelaide’s calf. It was warm and itchy at first, and she should feel her pulse where the leaves were pressed against her skin.
Yet the pain had disappeared nearly instantly! “What kind of plant is this?”
“You wouldn’t know it, it's a regional name.”
Gerswith cleaned her shoulder gash and prepared the needle to sew it shut. “Where can I find it? I want to collect some for myself.”
“You won’t be able to, it only grows here.” Gerswith replied.
“Here in the village or in the forest? Maybe I’ll pick some before I-”
“Here. In this room.” She pointed to the potted plant. “I bred it myself.”
Breeding plants? I didn’t realize that was possible.
The sutures in her shoulder made it sore and stiff, and she had to be careful not to move suddenly. They moved to the bed, where Adelaide could lay on her stomach was laying on her stomach while Girswith worked on her calf.
While painful, the procedure gave her time to think and evaluate her situation. Adelaide turned her head to get a better look at the plant and pot. It was a small bush with leaves that looked like mint, except the veins were a deep red instead of green. At first glance, the pot looked like fired clay ceramic, but Adelaide’s eyes were drawn to the candle flame reflected on the shiny, metallic surface.
Copper again. Why is everything made of copper?
Once the wounds were closed, Gerswith plucked a few of the leaves and pressed them in hard before taking a long, clean white bandage and wrapping them tightly. Adelaide was sure she looked silly with a bandage around her head, but the leaves were such effective painkillers that she couldn’t find a care to give.
“Now I wouldn’t mess with the leaves too much. They require constant skin-contact to work effectively, so leave them on until at least the morning, and then I can redress them.”
“I have to stay until the morning?” Adelaide failed to keep the panic out of her voice. “I was hoping to get my horse and be out of here before it’s too dark”
Gerswith shook her head. “I doubt that is a good idea, and the other villagers would echo my concern. The wolves have been especially bad recently, as you no doubt know already. I could not in good conscience allow you to leave, especially in your current state.”
Gerswith spoke with an air of finality, and Adelaide sensed there wouldn’t be much slack if she pressed the matter. Still…the idea of spending the night here made the skin on her arms rise.
She looked around at the strange room. They’ve been hospitable so far… but I still don’t want to chance it.
“I understand. Is there an inn?”
“Yes! It might not be the grandest, but it has what you need. I believe there are a few other travellers that have arrived recently.”
Hm. More strangers, Adelaide thought glumly. Her father’s face and her warm farmstead flashed across her vision. I’ll just go to sleep early and leave early. I hope he’s not mad about what I lost.
“Well, I’ll be making my way there then. Thank you for everything, really.” She pulled a few coins from a hidden pouch in her pants and tried to offer them up to her hosts.
“Thank you, no.” Kirsa said, giving a polite smile despite her horrific teeth.
“It was really no hassle, I was happy to help.” Gerswith said, tucking a brown lock behind her ear. “I’m not a real healer yet, but I’m trying to be. So thank you for the practice.”
I don’t know how I feel about that admission, but at least she didn’t botch me up too bad.
The super prominent white bandage wrapped around her head, shoulder, and the back of her leg did nothing to help her blend into the background, but at least her wounds would heal properly. She could feel the leaves pulsing under the bandages, which Gerswith reassured her meant they were working and eating away the bad flesh, whatever that meant.
She left the small store behind and started down the road in the direction of the inn. She hadn’t realized how much time she had spent with Kirsa and Gerswith, so Adelaide was quite shocked when she stepped outside and found it was already twilight; the east half of the sky was a fading, burnt orange while the other half was a dusky, darkening blue. The quickly fading light reminded her of her weariness, and she felt a newfound surge of exhaustion sweep through her.
The moon was not in the sky, so it was harder to navigate but she found her way. From what she was told, the inn was closer to the entrance of the village, so she retraced her steps until she came across the right building. It was admittedly bigger than Kirsa’s house, though not by much. However, it was far livelier inside.
A sizeable fire burned in the centre of the room where a small lamb roasted on a spit. Several benches surrounded it, with a few townspeople eating small meals and drinking ale out of wooden tankards. Adelaide approached the man standing behind the counter, where a few bunches of garlic and other herbs hung in bundles to dry.
“Can I get a small meal and a room for the night?” she asked politely.
“Ah, you’re the traveller who stumbled in with all those injuries. Looks like you got patched up pretty good. Ha!”
Adelaide faked a chuckle, but the fact that she already had a reputation made her uneasy. “Yes, that’s me. I heard there were other travellers in town too?”
“Indeed, one arrived a few days ago, that’s him there.” the barkeep pointed to a man in the corner wearing a green woollen cap. “Beside him, in the blue jacket, is the gentleman who arrived this morning. He’s been in here all day, but hasn’t bought a room yet.”
He served her a small plate of sliced lamb in gravy with a side salad of beets cut into thin ribbons and slid a long, grey metal key, which she carefully strapped to her thigh beside her hunting knife. It wasn’t much, but she only had to fork over a single coin, so she couldn’t complain. She walked over to the table with the two travellers and sat down, her weary legs grateful to be sat.
The stench of alcohol assaulted her nose before she could get a word out. The man in the blue jacket was swaying in his seat, and telling a very animated story to their table mate in the green cap.
“--so then I asked him ‘why do you think I brought this pig to the market? Because I wanted to bring home the bacon... literally!' Ha!"
He burst into a raucous laughter, slamming the top of the table with his palm and banging the underside with his knee. The other man, stared at the centre of the table with unfocused eyes, and failed to even acknowledge the high-spirited man before him, who just took notice of Adelaide’s presence.
“Well, hello there.” She watched his eyes trace over her bandages. “You must be the girl who arrived after me. I’m Ulfric, and this bump on a log is Arnaud, at least that’s what I think he said it was. How are you liking the place?”
She rolled her eyes as subtly as possible and took a bite of her food. It was warm and flavourful, which surprised her. She glanced around her, “I must admit, I find everything very strange. Everything feels…out of place.”
The barman appeared out of nowhere and refilled Ulfric’s mug. He gave no indication at having heard what Adelaide said, but she was now paranoid to speak with so many potential eavesdroppers around. Her eyes were becoming heavier and harder to open.
“That’s hardly the case, you just haven’t seen as much as I have.” He gestured with his mug and sloshed some on the table. The other man still didn’t react. “Everyone has been lovely, and the barkeep is very generous with the ale. The food is better than the swill most city inns serve.” He plucked a slice of lamb off her plate without asking. “Almost makes you forget the reputation this forest has.”
Arnaud began to mutter and he looked up to meet Adelaide’s eyes. “Yes… this forest. The forest keeps what it catches. It is always hunting…”
His eyes slid back down to the table, and Ulfric raised his tankard into the air, “Well, lets cheers to that shall we?”
No one else had a drink, so he compensated by downing his mug in one long gulp. His face was very pink and shiny, and his eyes glassy, so Adelaide decided she had enough. Pushing away from the table, she thanked the two men for their company and turned to leave so she can find her bed and sleep.
Behind her, Arnaud lunged forward and seized her wrist, holding her back and Adelaide nearly swung the plate at his head. Instead, she found his eyes strangely lucid where they had been previously cloudy.
“Golden eyes watch from between the trees.”
“What?”
“The moon hides its face this night, ashamed to witness the darkness that prowls beneath its ashy gaze.”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know-”
"The soil holds secrets older than the Earth itself, and its maw sits open and hungering. You are here by design.”
Adelaide reached for the knife concealed in her leg, but Ulfric pulled their hands apart before she had to resort to anything violent. Arnaud kept his gaze locked on her face but she pulled aside and walked away as fast as she could. The rooms were one level up, so she ran up a short flight of stairs and around the corner to the room with an open door.
She closed and latched the door shut and pushed the little table under the handle so no one could get in. She stumbled backward and sat on the end of the bed, breathing heavily. Her mind’s eye was cloudy but she held her head in her hands, fighting through the haze. Arnaud's words bounced around her muddled head
Golden eyes through the trees, boys in wolf pelts, something hidden beneath the earth…I don’t understand. Does he know something?
A terribly stabbing headache was beginning to form on her forehead, and she couldn’t escape the feeling of breathlessness. She used her sleeve to wipe cold sweat off her face, and tasting her dry mouth, stood to go get a glass of water.
As soon as she got to her feet, she knew: Something is wrong. Her heart was slamming inside of her chest like a drum; her head throbbed; she couldn’t feel her hands or her feet. She tried to take a step, and had to grab the wall for support.
Her shoulder was burning, so she carefully pulled back the bandages. The once green, fuzzy leaves were now crimson red and pulsing. They were attached and sunken to her skin, and trying to pull them off hurt like she was trying to pull her flesh off. The skin around the wound was pale and sickly and numb.
Inky black invaded the corners of her vision, and her eyes unfocused and blurred from tears. Father, what is happening…I’m scared. Her ears begun to ring, and her vision went completely black.
She took another step forward, grabbing around for something to steady herself, but there was nothing in reach. The walls were moving away faster and faster. Her knee wobbled and buckled, and she collapsed, falling to her knees and landing hard on her chest, unconscious before she even hit the ground.
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Her hearing was the first sense to come back. Adelaide sat, unable to move, in unfeeling darkness for an indeterminate amount of time. Discombobulated thoughts swam around her, teasing her, keeping her just on the cusp of regaining her faculties.
But one thought, one self-evident truth was clear:
I am alive. I don’t know where I am, but I’m breathing.
She struggled to process much else, but that she knew for certain.
Slowly, after a few minutes, her other senses began to return one at a time. The first thing she noticed was the pulsing hum beating against her chest every other second. There was a pressure around her head that pressed upon her eyes. A dull burning and itchy revealed that her hands and feet were bound together, and she was being restrained against a hard surface that poked into her back. Her mouth was dry and tasted foul, and there was something flaking on the front of her teeth. The air was dusty and stale and smelled strongly of dank earth.
It sounds like I’m underground but I still can’t see. Probably some kind of blindfold. Her limbs were bound too tightly for her to move much, but she was able to wiggle around. It also feels like I’m sitting against a ladder or steps of some kind.
Her memories returned slowly; just a few details at a time, so she walked through the events to keep herself grounded and try to figure out what to do next.
I got stranded in a village in the forest. One of the villagers patched me up. I got dinner at an inn. There were two other travellers. I went to my room, and…I guess that’s it.
Try as she might, she could not propel her mind past. Then reality began to set in.
I am currently tied up somewhere underground. I can hear…laughter? There are people close by.
Noises from further reached her, but she couldn’t discern the direction. Adelaide could make out that people were speaking, but not the words themselves; the blindfold covered her eyes and ears. She yanked hard on the ropes again, but only succeeded in having dirt sprinkle down onto her shoulders. She could hear each thunderous beat of her heart, and her hands felt slimy from mixing sweat, dirt, tears and probably other bodily fluids.
She wanted to scream. To thrash and fight and pull so hard the ropes snapped. She threw her head back in frustrated defeat, whacking against the ladder rail, jostling her blindfold. A bit of light creeped in just below her right eye.
Okay. I can shake this off. What then? Doesn’t matter. It’s something.
Adelaide mashed her head up and down into the soft earth, craning her neck to avoid the ladder, and shimmied the blindfold over and off her face.
Her eyes took some time to adjust to the lack of light. Adelaide was in some kind of underground tunnel, but the walls and ground was the same indistinct black and brown dirt. The tunnel bent around a corner and traces of warm, orange light came from further down where the voices were. Faint beams of light shone on her feet from above. Bending her neck upward, Adelaide could make out some kind of trapdoor with a wooden ceiling above, but no other identifying features.
Then she felt it.
Footsteps. Getting closer.
A distorted shadow appeared on the wall as the figure rounded the corner, and Adelaide knew exactly who was coming.
The darkness didn’t make Kirsa’s face any easier to look at. Where there was confusion, fiery anger exploded inside her.
“Where am I?”
Kirsa stopped a few steps before Adelaide, using her immense height to glower down. Adelaide, with as much dignity as she could muster, returned the scowl.
“Kirsa. Where. Am. I?”
“So much fire from such a little pup. Tell me,” Kirsa said, bending down and bringing their faces very close together, “will you be Nahrung or Nachwuch?”
Food or child?
The words shattered Adelaide’s furious exterior, and fear and confusion filled in the cracks once more.
Adelaide tugged on the ropes. “Kirsa, what is happening? Why are you doing this?”
“Vergoldete will explain better than I can. Either way, your pain, and suffering ends tonight. Tonight you embrace our Guilded Mother’s love.”
“Kirsa please. What is Vergoldete?” Kirsa was silent as she bent down to untie Adelaide from the ladder, keeping her other restraints tight as she bound hands and feet together so running was impossible. Adelaide screamed, then again, kicking at her captor, biting, anything to keep her away.
Kirsa seemed unperturbed. She let go and watched Adelaide to fall to her side before grabbing a handful of dirt and stuffing it into Adelaide’s mouth. She gagged and retched, probably breathing in as much as she coughed back out.
“Stop struggling so much, it just takes longer. Now, you are expected elsewhere.”
She picked up Adelaide and slung her over her shoulder like a bag of potatoes before continuing deeper into the tunnel. The cavern opened up into a large chamber, where the entire village sat on tree stumps arranged in concentric rings. Wood torches burned all around, casting shadows in every direction, and the air was hot and burned Adelaide’s eyes. There were several other shallow tunnels much like the one they just came from, and they spread outward in every direction, like an anthill built under the village.
Kirsa walked over to another nondescript tunnel and threw Adelaide to the ground before walking toward the centre of the room. Adelaide continued to choke and sputter on the dirt, feeling the grit between her teeth as she stared into the open jaw of darkness before her. Then there was another thump.
It was a pain, but Adelaide managed to squirm and roll over to see the drunk man—Ulfric— from the night before, still in his dark blue jacket. Similarly to Adelaide, he was bound at the hands and feet, but instead of being blindfolded, he had a gag between his teeth. He was looking at her and around the room with frantic, sober eyes and he was breathing loudly through his nose.
Adelaide wanted to reach out and help him, pull the gag out, ask him questions, figure out an escape plan, anything! But she couldn’t. Tears and dust stung her eyes, and her wrists itched like mad, but without hands, she could only squirm around.
So she rotated until she was facing the open chamber. Every single stump on the ground—close to five hundred total—had a villager sitting on it, and each person was looking at them. It was weirdly quiet, save for the sound of several hundred people breathing.
There was a collective intake of breath:
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“O’ Vergoldete, Gilded God from Above.
We offer up our bodies to you so that you may see the world from our eyes.
Accept our gift, and feed us with your nourishment.
To you we pray, Gilded God from Above.”
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Kirsa stood and moved to the centre of the room, raising her arms so her palms faced upward. “Nahrung or Nachwuch?” she asked.
The people echoed her, voices soft. “Nahrung or Nachwuch.”
“Nahrung or Nachwuch?” she asked again, louder this time.
“Nahrung or Nachwuch.” they called.
“NAHRUNG OR NACHWUCH?”
“NAHRUNG OR NACHWUCH!”
Back and forth, they repeated, louder and louder each time until every person in the room was shouting as loud as they could, ‘Nahrung or Nachwuch’, food or child.
Then it stopped. Everyone took their seats, and their eyes slid back to their prisoners. Kirsa and another man—shorter, but thicker—broke off from the crowd and approached them. Kirsa knelt and picked Adelaide up by the restraints so her arms and legs were pulled painfully above her back while she faced the ground. Together, the four of them entered the dark tunnel and descended.
From the heavy thump of every footstep, Adelaide could tell they were going down, further and further into the ground. No torches or light pierced through the solid blackness of the tunnel, and the low hum became stronger and clearer. The air became noticeably colder, and it felt like someone was stuffing a piece of cotton into Adelaide’s ears. Then she heard…water? Like a stream flowing, and drips landing on a smooth surface.
The path levelled out, and a pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel gradually expanded until it revealed a natural, open cavern that extended upward. A small gash above allowed a few specks of stars to reach Adelaide’s eyes. Stalagmites and stalactites grew from the smooth grey rock, and a little wooden arch bridge spanned the several-foot wide brook of clear water.
Numerous light fixtures had been installed into the walls, but Adelaide couldn’t identify them; they seemed to be small silver sconces emitting bright, white light that burned without a hint of smoke, and hundreds glowed all the way up the cave walls.
But the biggest spectacle was the oblong, shining silver object tucked into the corner. It was shaped like an egg, but stretched longer and ellipsoid, and its glossy surface rippled and vibrated every few seconds, aligning with the incessant buzz she kept hearing ever since coming to the village.
So that thing is making that stupid humming.
Connected to the pill-shaped object were several wide copper tubes that ran along in a confusing mess of lines, some penetrating into the rock and out of sight, while others ran directly up the walls and out of the cave. There was also a strange machine, like a large tub with a lid, where four smaller glass tubes connected into the larger solid copper ones.
Adelaide struggled to take it all in, and with each new thing she saw, found herself getting more confused instead of getting clarity or answers like she thought.
Their captors dropped them onto the hard, stone floor and Adelaide scraped both knees as she was forced to prostrate herself before the otherworldly metal object before her.
“Wait until you are spoken to.”
Adelaide was about to ask a question when the metal object made a loud noise, like someone exhaling hard through their nose. A rectangular shape traced itself in the uniform silver, and a set of stairs descended downward to meet the ground.
A figure appeared in the doorway; tall like Kirsa, with long, thin limbs and a stretched face. Its facial features were spread out across its face unnaturally; its eyes were too high so it didn’t have much of a forehead, and its mouth was a little too big. To Adelaide, it looked like a person but…not. Like if someone had seen a human a few times and tried to draw one from memory. It wore something like a green and gold priest's robes, with many layers of ornate, intricately designed line-patterns.
Vergoldete? The Guilded One.
“Thank you, Leopolt. You may go now. Kirsa, please grab me the Scribe” They did not respond, but Adelaide could hear footsteps receding behind her, further and further away until they were gone. “Now, onto you.”
Its voice was strange, almost buzzing, and with an accent Adelaide couldn’t place.
“What are you?” Adelaide asked.
Vergoldete smiled. “A most pertinent question, asking what not who. The people call me Vergoldete. I am told it means Guilded.” Beside her, Ulfric was crying, but it was muffled because of his gag. “Let me remove that. The villagers can be so cruel.”
The robes covered its feet as Vergoldete seemingly glided across the ground to reach them, gently hooked a finger into the gag and relieving Ulfric. He spluttered and gasped, taking several deep breaths, filling his lungs with an ounce more freedom than he had a moment ago.
“Now. You are here for a purpose. There is something I need from you, and in return, all the suffering you have endured in your short lives will be expunged. Does that sound alright?”
Adelaide pondered the words, searching for some loophole to exploit. “What do you need from me?”
“To put it shortly, I want your mind. Your memories. I want your experiences on this planet. That is it. I am what my people call a planetary anthropologist, but your language is still…undeveloped, so you may understand me as a scholar who studies culture.”
That was not what Adelaide had expected. Warlord? Possibly. Murderer? For sure. But scholar? She looked over at Ulfric, and he seemed equally perplexed.
“You’re…not going to kill us?” he asked timidly.
“I don’t intend to, but that decision isn’t up to me.” Vergoldete smiled again, and Adelaide could see its teeth were stained yellow. “That decision is yours.”
Kirsa returned from wherever she disappeared to. In her arms was a bulky round helmet made of polished copper. Vergoldete produced something from her robes—a little orb made of glass with a coil in the centre—and handed it to Kirsa, who attached it to the top of the helmet.
“All I ask—all I need—from you is to put this on. This will show me everything you have ever seen or done, and I will study your lives. Every piece of food you’ve eaten, every person you’ve ever spoken with, and every dream you’ve ever had. I want to know it all.”
“And what about this kills us?” Adelaide asked.
“Well, the machine won’t kill you. Neither will the extraction. It is difficult to explain, so I suggest you watch and see for yourself. Everyone in the village has experienced this, and that’s why they stay; they quite literally don’t know better!”
Adelaide was too focused on Vergoldete to notice that Kirsa had snuck up behind Ulfric, who opened his mouth to shout. She dropped the helmet onto his head and the little glass bulb lit up with a swirling, undulating fluorescent pink and blue substance. Ulfric’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his jaw sat open in a silent scream. His hands begun to shake slowly at first, and then more rapidly until he was convulsing on the ground, every extremity writhing and jerking.
Adelaide watched through too-wide eyes, her mouth also hanging open a bit. Her stomach churned and flipped, and she had to actively resist the urge to look away and hurl. But out of morbid curiosity, she wanted to watch, to know what happened. Because that helmet was going on her head next.
There was a chime, like a small bell ring, and Vergoldete clapped twice. Kirsa bent over and pulled the helmet off Ulfric’s motionless body before removing and replacing the glass bulb. She handed the bulb—now full of…Ulfric?— to Vergoldete, who tucked away in some unseen pocket and withdrew a stick that extended to several feet. It used the stick to poke Ulfric a few times, and used its grey-tinted fingers to pull his eyelids open.
Adelaide tried to say his name, but the word caught in her throat, so she tried to stretch her leg to nudge him, but it was too far.
His chest, she thought, and as she watched, she was certain she could see his chest rising and falling with each breath. He’s still alive.
Standing, Vergoldete looked to Kirsa and flicked its head toward the tub. “Nahrung.”
Food
Kirsa picked him up by his still-restrained limbs and hoisted him over to the strange metallic basin. He didn’t so much as twitch. Like he was already dead. She dropped him on the floor to pull open the lid, and then picked him back up and tossed him in, where he landed with an echoing thud. Adelaide strained her ears, listening for rustling or groaning; anything to indicate he was awake. But there was nothing.
“What are you doing to him?”
“Redistributing him back to the earth.”
Kirsa pushed something on the tub, and a horrible grinding noise filled the chamber. It was wet, and crunchy, and gave Adelaide the same squeamish feeling as listening to a wild animal chewing. She felt a lump forming in her throat, and saliva began to fill her mouth.
The machine stopped. Then it started humming. Then bright red, pulpy liquid began flowing upward through the glass pipes and into the network of crossing copper tubes. Adelaide’s stomach flipped and she threw up all over the stones before her.
“Why?” She threw up again. “I ate the food. Is all of it…” She looked back at the copper pipes.
“Nourished? Yes!” Vergoldete exclaimed. “I told you it wouldn’t kill you, but afterwards…well…the extraction process can…break things. Most people lose their mental faculties and enter a catatonic state, and at that point, there is nothing that can be done for them.”
Vergoldete placed a hand on Adelaide’s shoulder.
“Trust me, it's much easier to use them as fertilizer than it is to bury the bodies in the ground, or whatever your species does to honour the dead. It’s more practical this way. Less wasteful. And it doesn’t hurt, I assure you.” Vergoldete looked to Kirsa and nodded.
“No! Please! No, don’t!” Adelaide begged. “I can tell you whatever you want to know. You don’t have to take it.”
“I’m afraid I do. Unfortunately, your mind isn’t capable of retaining everything you experience, so there is plenty of very valuable knowledge in your brain that you aren’t aware of. And it would take too long. Trust me, this is easier for both of us.”
A shadow appeared behind her.
“Please…please. I don’t want-”
Then there was nothing. And there was everything. Everything Adelaide had ever known. All at once. She could feel her first and last breath, and then every one between. Every time her father said ‘I love you’, every time her mother held her hand, every time she looked up at the stars and wondered what they were. For a single moment, she was everything. And then it was gone. And she was nothing once more.
The helmet was pulled from her head, and in a way, Adelaide was reborn.
There was something wet and cold beneath her, and she was hurting in a few places. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes for the very first time.
“Welcome back. Can you hear me?”
Adelaide looked toward the source of noise. A warm face regarded her. One so full of love and caring.
A thought formed in Adelaide’s head, not in words, but in feeling.
Mother.
“Yes, you can hear me, though I don’t expect you to understand what I am saying.” The person took Adelaide’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “I told you it wouldn’t hurt a bit. And now you are free.”
The person bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Adelaide’s forehead, and then took her face into their hands.
“From now on, you are now my Nachwuch. I am told it means Child.”
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