⬥ Chapter 1 ⬥
—Jaiharan Subcontinent / Contested Colonial Territory / The Southern Swamps—
He was huffing and puffing. The big old guy was taking his sweet old time going from the litter box to the food bowl.
“You got this, Jasper!” I said, lying deep inside the cushions of my couch.
He waddled on the torn carpet. His little legs looked like chicken drumsticks, wobbling under the pressure of the larger breast. Sure, he was breathing heavily, but he was going to do it. I believed in him. It’d been three months since Jasper walked across the room. He was going to make history.
Just this morning, Jasper had spent his time lounging in bed, watching a cricket hop around the room. It seemed that cricket liked going next to Jasper, as he didn’t even swipe at the bug but simply admired it. Now, however, was the time to eat: the time for a great feast. A big, slimy piece of tuna awaited Jasper—but he was still on a journey, still chugging along, hoping to sink his teeth in the catch of the day.
Now, Jasper was no hunter. Sure, he was a great cat—my best friend, even—but no hunter. Needless to say, he was round. Very round. His coat was black, save for his bottom white belly pouch. So, he looked like a rock sometimes. Maybe even a big turtle if he was sitting down. His face was scrunched, and one of his ears was more floppy than the other. Oh, and his whiskers were all over the place; he always looked like he just hunted something or went on some long venture far from home. Neither was ever the case.
“C’mon, Jasper!”
“Meow!” He called back to me, clearly appreciating my moral support.
I will always remember this day: seeing Jasper amble along the carpet, sighing and panting as he caught his breath. It was a good day. Well, every day was a good day in the swamps. Nobody was here to bug Jasper nor me. So far away from society, from neighbors, or just from anybody… so alone, and so quiet, the only sounds were of the calm breeze and of Jasper’s heavy breathing.
“Jasper! C’mon, Jasper… Jasper! No!”
“Meow!” He stopped and plopped on the floor, wagging his tail up and down.
“Not again!” I cried out, lifting myself from the couch. But I fell back in. “Ugh.” I got a hold of the couch’s armrest, letting it bear my weight. “Phew, don’t worry, Jasper, I’m coming.”
“Meow.” Jasper didn’t seem to care. He was too busy watching me hike over to him. I’m sure he thought it was hilarious that I tripped on the carpet.
When I eventually got to him, he relaxed his weight and allowed me to pick him up. I delivered him to his feast, and once he finished eating, I picked him up again. Together, we sat down on the couch and enjoyed the afternoon. I really should’ve taken it in. This scenery. Sure, it was my house that I had lived in for a few months, but it was the last time I would see it like this.
Calm. Relaxed. Alone.
The birds chirped, and the frogs croaked in the background. Jasper purred in my lap, not a care in the world that he was a bit heavy. But it was alright. Everything was okay.
Until the knock on my door.
“Wh—” I woke myself up, Jasper as well.
I looked up and peered closely at the wooden frame. The knocking was desperate, and a man yelled, “Help! Help!”
“Oh, what?” I felt a sudden rush to get up. With Jasper in my arms, I set him down on the windowsill. Who could be knocking at my door at this hour? The sun had already set. And so far off from the nearest town? I hadn’t ever let a traveler-person stay at my house because there was no reason to come down here. My house was on the outskirts of colonial civilization, not even the explorers came down here, as there was nothing to explore.
“Wa—wh—” I opened the door, stumbling on my words. “Who are you?”
“I’m so sorry to bother you, sir,” said the man. “But—but—” He looked around desperately. True terror struck his eyes as he said, “Thieves, thieves!” He jiggled a sack of what-sounded-like metal. “They ambushed me. They want to kill me; they’re right behind me! Please help me!” His gray beard was strewn with dust particles and a half-bitten leaf—he looked aged, but his skin was smooth apart from a few cuts.
“Oh, uh—sure, come inside.” The man entered with haste, surprisingly not startling Jasper, who seemed to like the man.
“Meow.”
“Thank you, thank you,” said the gray-bearded man.
“Of course, thieves, you say? Right behind you?”
“Yes, sir. Right behind me. They’ve been following me since I left town.”
“Why don’t you hide behind the couch?”
“Sir?” He said as I walked over to my fireplace.
“Don’t worry about it. Get behind the couch.”
“Okay…”
Bricks stacked themselves upon rows and rows, which formed my chimney. There, above my fireplace and held between two iron rods, my sword glistened in the little light there was. It had been months since I’d held this, never really a good reason to use it. I lit a lantern and had it dangle in my right arm while the rest of my body adjusted to the steel blade.
The grip was dusty, the hilt tattered and chipped. A bright green sigil was engraved on the blade’s base, shimmering here and there as the old paint had worn off.
Footsteps stomped on the porch. I could hear the clink and clank of chainmail armor, combined with a groan that sounded a bit too raw for me. Thieves in armor? Now that sounded wrong.
They knocked on the door. Jasper hissed at the men outside.
With ease, I rested my sword on the wall. I cracked my fingers and opened the door.
“Evening, gentlemen,” I said, inspecting the two. They, indeed, had chainmail across their chests and leggings. Their undershirts, though, were more of a sad, leather texture that seemed wet and filthy. I assumed these two tripped and fell a lot while chasing that gray-bearded man.
“Good evening,” one of the men said while the other sized me up.
“How can I help you two?”
The man who was sizing me up had his sheath sticking out from his belt. Not only was he showing off, but his sheath was reversed: the blade was toward me. I wonder if he really thought that was intimidating.
The same guy spoke again, “We’re searching for someone. Perhaps you’ve seen this man.” He took out a rolled-up piece of paper from his pocket, displaying an illustration of the gray-bearded man right behind me. Although I have to say that they got his eyebrows wrong, they weren’t so pointy but rather dull and bushy. Also, he had these large goggles on—nonetheless, I knew it was the guy.
“Hm,” I shook my head. “This man? Hm… Interesting… Nah, I haven’t seen him.”
“Are you sure? We’ve been following him south for a few miles now.”
The guy who had been inspecting me followed up with, “And you’re the only house south from colonial territory.” Then, he peered over my shoulder and mumbled, “If you can call it a house.”
“I can assure you, gentlemen, that I haven’t seen that guy.”
“Let me check inside,” said the show-off.
My eyebrows lowered. “Oh, that won’t be necessary.”
But he kept going. “By order of Ianite’s crown, we demand to search your house.”
I crossed my arms. “Listen, you’re not on crown territory. Who are you guys anyway?”
He scoffed, “I’m the one asking the que—” before getting pulled back by his partner. At least that guy had common sense—and kept his eyes to himself. He told his little buddy to “relax” before saying, “Let’s go. This guy’s not gonna know anything.”
He was reluctant, no doubt—but he knew what was good for him. “Alright,” he said with his back slouched.
“Sorry for the trouble.” He waved his hand goodbye.
“Yeah…” I said as the two left my porch. When the door closed, I sat the lantern down and drew my sword. My eyes darted toward the gray-bearded man; he was even more terrified now; it was painted all over his face. He clenched his teeth tightly.
“So you lied. What was that about?”
He put his hands on his chest, palms facing me. “Don’t please—don’t hurt me.” He dropped his bag of metal whatnots.
“Why were militiamen asking for you?”
“I—I—”
“I’d like to hear the truth this time.”
“Okay.” I could hear his heartbeat from here. “Listen, listen.”
I tilted my head.
“I stole—and—and they w—were after me. B—but please don’t—”
“Oh.” I walked over to my living room, setting my sword back on its display.
“What?” he scratched his head.
“That’s all you had to say. So you stole? Alright,” I shrugged.
“Y—You’re not going to turn me in?”
“Why would I?” I pointed to the chair in the kitchen. “Sit down.”
“O—Okay.”
While he sat, I got him a glass of water. I glanced over to see what Jasper was doing—he was sleeping.
“Here.” I slid him the glass.
“Thank you.”
I sat beside him. “Your name?”
“Taranato—Skylord Taranato, yours?”
“Hmph.” So he has a title. Interesting. “Eric.”
“I knew it. I knew you looked familiar.”
“Yeah?” I raised a brow.
“Why didn’t you turn me in?” He sipped from his water.
“You heard what I told them—we’re not on crown territory. You’re a free man.”
“Oh,” He scratched his head. “Well, thanks for covering for me. I really appreciate it, sir.”
“You can stop calling me, sir. You’re in the swamps. Out here, we’re equals.”
“Right…” He set his glass down. “But—aren’t you that wizard-mage, from, from—”
“As opposed to just a regular mage?” I smiled. “What are you talking about?”
“No. No, you’re someone. You’re someone! You look familiar, too! I—”
“I’m nobody. Do you want to get some rest, or—”
“Savior—” Taranato interjected. “You’re the Savior of Azamar—like—you know what I mean, you were a household name in some cities.”
I waved his response off. “Nah—they don’t call me that.”
He stuck his neck out at me. “Oh my…”
“What?”
“What the hell happened?”
I raised my chin. “I just helped you, and now you’re pestering me?”
“I—” his voice choked up, “Oh, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Look—just ask me tomorrow or something. Too much happened today. I’m mentally exhausted.” I pointed to the living room. “I sleep on that part of the couch, and Jasper sleeps on that chair. You can sleep on the other part, alright?”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it,” I got up from the chair and went over to Jasper. I carried him to his spot, where he curled up in a small blanket. I sighed and glanced at my sword. How long ago was it? When they once called me that? A sparkle appeared on the blade.
No. I had to convince myself not to think about that time.
I lay down and stared at the wooden roof. It was going to be one of those nights. I closed my eyes and remembered the reason.
Fall asleep,
And remember the reason,
Fall…