The Wanderer

They’re here.

He had done everything he could to distance himself as much as possible. To throw him off her scent. He wondered, again, how they had tracked him in the first place, he’d been so careful. There was only one explanation, someone had betrayed them. Anger flared again in his chest, but rapidly tried to control it, he couldn’t waste energy in such emotions.

Archibald lost his footing, falling on his knees, breaking the tattered fabric of his tunic and the skin of his knees. He took a deep breath, steading his mind, avoiding a mental spiraling, reaching an inner balance. It wasn’t the time to let emotions sink in, it wouldn’t help. It was dark and pouring, that mixed with the state of the path, made his journey more difficult to the top of the mountain. His body was failing him.

Multiple cackles filled the night.

They’re here, I must hurry.

He couldn’t fail her. His options were limited and another escape was not one of them.

Could I be brave enough? Strong enough?

He stood up continuing his way to the top and in a few minutes reached it. At the opposite end of the peak an old dead tree, The Solitary Tree, stood overlooking the place. A place filled with so much sorrow and desolation, where many sought to end all their burdens, in the most final way. He walked towards it, his cape blowing side to side by the harsh wind and fell to his knees in front of it. He didn’t feel the pain in his cut knee that much he was spent.

With haste Archibald closed his eyes and concentrated on all the energy left in him, directing it to his hands, when again the cackles filled the night. Suddenly, he felt his arms popping out of its sockets. Chains wrapped around his wrists, and he was brutally turned around. His two dark hounds, haunting, cloaked in darkness, followers of the evil one, held tightly the chains.

“Scum of the earth” “At last at his mercy” “The lord will be pleased” they gleefully said, clashing their words on top of each other’s.

“I feel you’ll disappoint him, again.” Archibald whispered, knowing that even with the distance between them, they would hear perfectly.

“Mad!” “Decrepit mage!” “He implies escape!” “Impossible, this time!” “It’s your end!” the hounds angrily hissed, while maintaining a good grip on the chains.

Archibald didn’t care for such insults, the more distracted those creatures were, the better for him to discreetly direct energy to his wrist, heating as fast as he could the chains. Hope started to fill his chest when the cackling and hissing stopped, the wind ceased, his breath condensed, and the tree stood still as witness.

A heavy and slow stomp shook the ground, and behind his hounds their lord appeared as terrible as ever. A tall specter, cloaked completely in darkness, less his face, a blackened skull with a gold crown melted onto it. Ozul was here.

“At last, you find yourself in my mercy.” his voice rumbled through the space dividing them. Archibald felt his chest vibrating.

“But she never will.” Archibald responded.

“Still the guardian. As any progenitor would be, I suppose.” said Ozul unimpressed.

Archibald felt a sudden pressure in his skull, which he quickly identified, and made haste to shut his mind. As he thought, Ozul was being careful, after last time.

“Annoying mage. I have seen the future and Haera will be my queen.”

Haera, his precious Haera, who’s potential and powers were evident since birth. Each year, Haera demonstrated the reach of her powers, and while Archibald grew proud, he also grew weary as it could attract unintended attention. It wasn’t until her 14th birthday that his fears came true, when Ozul infiltrated her dreams with the intention of controlling her. It was his wish, his vision, to make her his queen, the embodiment of evil, and use her powers to bring all his minions to this realm and fill it with chaos.

While Haera learned to shut her mind, Archibald knew that it would not be enough. The two of them left their kingdom and servants towards an elvish safe heaven where Haera could finish mastering her powers. They traveled around the country discreetly until someone betrayed them by revealing his true name, providing Ozul with the means to locate him. Nobody knew of Haera’s real name but him, so he imparted to her the last of the directions to reach the castle and with sorrow filled heart left and distance himself from her as far as he could.

“Enough! You do this the hard way!” Ozul’s wrath filled the air and started running towards Archibald.

It is now or never.

Quickly, with all of what was left of his powers, he snapped his wrist from the chains and concentrated on the ball of light he had created in his temples. Mustering his remaining strength and power, he destroyed every memory related to his beloved daughter. The day he learned of her concievement (when for the first time her true name was revealed to them), her birth, little fingers grabbing his hand, her birthdays, her honest smile, her favorite perfume and witty personality. He erased every trace that could give out her name, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Chaos erupted around him, thunder splitting the lonely tree into a million pieces, Ozul’s wrath filling all space when he realized what the mage was doing. He reached Archibald, grabbing him by his throat and lifting him. But it was too late. The memories were destroyed, erased into nothingness. He was a shell of an old mage now, as such a spell took a great toll.

“You imbecile!” screamed Ozul and lifted Archibald above his head and threw him over the side of the mountain where he disappeared into the night.

***

The next morning, the first rays of the sun filled Archibald’s face, piercing his eyelids. He started to stir and felt pain all over his body. Mentally assessing himself, he determined that some ribs and left leg were broken, and half his face was swollen. He couldn’t remember why he found himself in such a state pinned between rocks on the side of a mountain, but he sensed that danger was not around, so he relaxed and shifted painfully into a sitting position. It would take long hours if not days to fully recover from this. Besides wondering what had happened, something nagged at him.

He willed some birds to bring him whatever they could, which resulted in receiving small berries delivered by a flock of birds nesting nearby. He was badly hurt and didn’t have any option but to wait for his body to heal. In all that time he kept thinking about what was missing. Was he running towards a place? Or was he avoiding someone? In the back of his mind there was an urge, a tug. But what it was, he couldn’t remember. He just knew that he had to keep moving, and so he did, when his body healed, wandering the Earth from corner to corner, chasing soft kisses, tender hands and the faint memory of a floral perfume.