Alarik's Crusade

CHAPTER 14: THE STORY YOU TELL

Cendric struggled to admit it even to himself, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to track his location in this rainforest. Landmarks were few and far between, the entire place a mass of trees and assorted wildlife that largely looked identical from location to location. Even the sun was difficult to see, a strange thing in a place that felt as hot as this. The canopy was so thick it blocked out much of the light. Was it just becoming less travelled as they moved closer in? Did the Hashadi settle along the ‘coastal’ segments of the rainforest like most societies would near water? With every step through increasingly thick brush, the place felt like it was gradually closing in on him. The canopy, growing ever larger, seemed to be nearer to his head every day. The trees felt as if they were converging, their swooping branches like grasping hands, perpetually just out of reach until perhaps someday they weren’t. He took out a knife to mark a few trees, hoping to leave something in case he wandered off in the wrong direction. It was far too easy to do that now.

Deep down and in spite of it all, he still had his confidence. Regardless of his treatment, he felt he still had the greatest chance of navigating this place. It may not be a walk in the park, but that’s what great adventures were made of, and as dreadful as it had been thus far, there was still a means to salvage it. When he returned, he wouldn’t be gathering the pub around to tell stories of his disappointments, but rather picking and choosing which memories he’d rather recollect. A crusade with a noblewoman and her massive bodyguard! A dangerous expedition with a seasoned military veteran! An adventure with a wild-hearted Khorsuli temptress!

With a frown, he let out a soft sigh. His mind kept falling back to that one.

Nearly back, he heard a rustle in the trees. Instinctively, he drew his hunting knife and crouched low. If he was to return in one piece, he’d have to either dodge the wildlife or cut right through it.

“Put that down, fool,” he heard. “And stop hiding. Even if I was a danger to you, you’d have alerted me with that ridiculous perfume well before I saw you.”

Cendric stood up. He recognized Inaya’s voice all too well. “Well, the animals don’t often recognize the smell of a seasoned adventurer like myself quite the way a lady would.”

“Is that what you’re calling yourself?”

“That’s what I am.” He squinted and looked a little more closely at her. Her face was flushed, and her eyebrows cut angry creases through her forehead. “Are you quite alright? Did something happen at the camp?”

“I’m hunting. I have my job, you have yours. Stay on it.”

“I’ve spent many days in the taverns of the world listening to tales of tragedy. You’ll find I’m a better listening ear than most.” The moment the words left his mouth, he felt sickened. With the situation, with himself. It almost felt like begging. Him, Cendric, the conquering adventurer, the suave, debonair merchant of wealth and class, hoping desperately for a woman’s attention and approval in some wretched, forsaken rainforest. What had happened to him? Had the greys in his beard and the lines by his eyes grown too prominent? Were his stories not so grand - or perhaps too grand to be believed?

She snorted in derision. Smooth and graceful, she set off into the wilderness without a goodbye.

Cendric found himself alone again, as he often was as of late. He knew the general direction well enough, but he opted to stay somewhat ahead of the travelling band to avoid their constant snide remarks. He’d never been on the receiving end of ridicule quite like this before, and he found he did not have the taste for it. He furrowed his brow, released a deep breath, and convinced himself again that this was of course just an odd crusade, an exception. And, he reminded himself, the story he told was what he remembered it to be. He simply had to think of it the right way when all was said and done.

But he knew.

No matter what he told some drunken oafs in a tavern to earn their respect, he knew what happened here. The strange, sudden path he’d taken to belittlement from those who he would have expected to be his peers. Strange doubts came into his mind that had never existed before. Often, on merchant vessels, he’d be one of the leading men, choosing the course and making the decisions. Were others just humouring him? Had he been a laughing stock all along? Once again, he looked down at his soft, expensive boots.

He paused for a moment. Where exactly was he? He’d been wandering and lost his focus. He peeked through the canopy to find the sun, trying to remember where he’d marked trees and planted guideposts along the way, but he’d forgotten those as well.

“Well, what have I done…” he muttered to himself, hearing a cacophony of bird songs that sounded like mocking laughter. In the rainforest, every direction looked terribly familiar and unfamiliar just the same. The canopy seemed far too close to his head now. He felt if he jumped, his head would scrape the draping leaves. The thickness of the rainforest seemed to give the animal life more confidence as well, chirping and singing far more closely here than before. Perhaps it just felt that way - or just differently from how he remembered it.

Cendric steadied his nerves. He’d been on trading vessels that were dashed on the rocks. He’d outran murderous barbarian tribes that wished to cut him to pieces. He’d braved wildernesses far tougher than this and conquered lands far more remote. This was just the next challenge.

He opted for the direction he just came from, backpedalling until he recognized something new, yet everything now seemed less familiar than ever. There was a strangely warped tree, one he may have noticed. Perhaps he did notice it. Or, he passed by it and simply missed it with his preoccupied mind. Another tree with a great crack through it, likely to fall and become part of the rainforest floor to rot and wither. Had he passed that as well? The fallen log not far from him; did he leap over that not long ago? Cendric pulled at his stiff collar, its gleaming white faded to grey with sun, sweat and dirt.

“Where exactly are you heading?”

Cendric was so shocked at the voice he leaped into the air, clutching his dagger. As he landed, he went into a defensive crouch, pretending he had intended to jump not out of fright but out of some fighting technique, a means to try to save face. In truth, he feared for his heart the shock was so great. When he saw to whom he was speaking, it didn’t slow its rapid beat.

“Majad!” he said, speaking forcefully but actively trying not to awaken any of the animal life around him. “Come here to try and kill me, have you? Came for the Khorsuli boy, and now me? Take out our shaman, too, didn’t you? I’ve fought enough ruffians to handle a blade, you know.” A lot of bluster for a man who nearly wet himself.

“Surely, we’d have quite a battle,” Majad lied. It was clear to the both of them that if Majad had wanted him dead, they would not be having this conversation. The man didn’t even have a weapon on him, but it hardly mattered. It was the appearances that were important for the sake of Cendric’s already shaky pride. Majad’s careful watch had gleaned that information long ago.

​“I’m sure we would,” Cendric agreed. He still held his knife. In truth he had been in a few scraps in his merchant days, but a couple of longstanding injuries had put his brawling days behind him. That, and every brawler’s past is more glorious than reality sees it to be. “Yet I doubt you’ve come here for a fight.”

​“You would be correct. May we put our weapons away?” Majad asked, as if he could put away his fists. Still, Cendric took the chance to get the dagger out of his hands to remove any chance of him actually having to use it.

​“Alright,” Cendric said. “Out with it then.”

​“I’ve been watching you speak with the Khorsuli woman,” Majad said drily.

​“Ah,” Cendric replied, leaning back against a tree. “The assassin deems to end my life with verbal ripostes, as opposed to the more traditional means. How very original. But will I bleed the same way?”

​“I have not come to mock you.” He pulled a flask from the folds of his robe, similar but different to the ones he provided the others, and tossed it at the feet of Cendric. “In fact, I have come to provide for you… absolution.”

​Cendric snorted, louder than he intended, causing him to subtly search his surroundings for any animals he may have alerted to his presence. Oddly enough, Majad’s presence made him feel safer in that aspect. The idea of him falling prey to an animal at the foot of this presumed killer seemed like an irony even chance itself could not stomach. “Allow me to see if I’ve read this properly. Two shamans have died. One, it is said, after you provided a concoction delivered in the very same fashion as this one here. And yet you wish for me to trust you to drink another. Why would I administer poison to myself?”

​“The Khorsuli boy refused to listen. I told him to take but a taste, and he drank the entirety of the flask, down to the last drop. I know enough of you to have determined that you have more guile than a reckless Khorsuli, and one that not in age but in personality is little more than a child.”

​“And why would I look at the state he’s in and say that’s something I wish for at all?”

​“We, the Hashadi… regret the error.” Majad bowed slightly at the waist, a strange show of humility from a man of such obvious strength. “We had intended to provide for the Khorsuli with something to ease his nerves. The threats and rigours of the rainforest were proving difficult for him. He ignored the dose I recommended. The Hashadi have long known the amounts of our elixirs that provide gifts, but also the dangers of overabundance.” Majad knew well the importance of mixing truths into his lies. It was a concoction all its own, and no less powerful. “We hope to mend grievances. What you have at your feet is, I believe, exactly what you’re looking for.”

​“And you approach me, alone and separated from the rest of my crusaders.”

​“The path lies behind you,” Majad said, pointing not far from the direction Cendric was heading. “Travel that way and you’ll reach one of the markers you had left behind. I could only approach you in this manner because I have sadly lost the trust of the rest of your crusaders. It is a fault that lies solely with me.”

​Cendric tilted his head and nodded, albeit slightly. The explanation was sound, even if Cendric was certainly still wary of him. He stared at the liquid inside the flask, opened the stopper and wafted the smell towards him like a fine perfume. It smelled vaguely of fruits and earth, the colour a swirling, enchanting pink. “And why do you believe I’d like to drink this elixir of yours?”

​“Tell me who you are,” Majad said, his voice as typically solid and lifeless as it always is. His grey eyes did little to ease the discomfort of speaking with him face to face.

​“Don’t play with me, you know who I am.”

​“I mean more than your name. Indulge me, if you please.”

“I am an adventurer.” Cendric couldn’t help but puff out his chest slightly at the title.

“Indeed you are. From what I understand, you’ve visited many kingdoms. I feel some jealousy at that. I’ve never strayed beyond this very rainforest in which we stand.”

“Ah,” Cendric started, looking up towards the sky with a smile on his face. “The places I’ve been you wouldn’t believe. The riches… the battles… the women… I’ve led quite the experiences, in that regard. Sometimes I envy the simpler life,” he said whimsically and entirely falsely.

​“I’ve found riches here just fine, but the battles...” Majad said, looking down at his fists. “That, I cannot envy. I’ve never found my equal. Nor one that would even be a rival. Perhaps with your experience you would be one after all. Have you triumphed over any-”

​“I’ve fought wildmen on mountaintops,” Cendric said with a flourish, his eyes wild. “I’ve battled shamans of strange, powerful magics. I’ve fought with and against both men and monsters. I’m not one for the safety of my riches.”

​“A man desiring challenge,” Majad added, leaning against a tree in an attempt to look casual that looked almost convincing.

​“What is life for if not pushing yourself to the greatest heights?”

​“I hear you. And you said women, as well. Are the women beyond the rainforest-”

​“Ah, the greatest challenge and adventure of all.” Cendric leaned forward, finally lowering his voice. “And one I’ve found myself… quite capable.”

​Majad moved from the tree and straightened his back. He suddenly looked very much the man of military precision and soulless calculation he had seemed before. “Yet you’ve consistently been made to look quite the fool by the Khorsuli woman.”

​Cendric’s face shifted from a face of pride to shock, and then again to a wry smile. “Well, Majad… you wouldn’t know this from having lived only here in the rainforest, but you’ll find that you can’t win the heart of every woman. But I’ve won enough. Her spurning my advances bothers me not at all.”

​“You’ve told me you’re many things. You have not called yourself a liar. Do not make one of yourself so obviously.”

​Cendric laughed, the kind of laugh one made only when uncomfortable. “What would you like me to say? Yes, I have an interest in the Khorsuli woman and she’s denied me. I challenge you to find a man who doesn’t look the part of a fool in a failed attempt at courtship. There’s no grace in failure on that front! Is that what you want to hear?”

​“It’s eating away at you like acid in your veins.”

​“And what if it does?” Cendric said, his knife finding its way to his hand again, his mind almost convincing himself he’d have a chance at success in using it. He took a few steps in advance towards the far superior fighter, who didn’t so much as raise his hands in defence.

​“Then take a taste of the flask.”

​“And what, it’ll make me forget all my troubles and go into some blissful comatose state? I’ve seen what your potions do!”

​A slight crease appeared between Majad’s eyebrows. For him, that was exploding with emotion. “The potions are unique. Your Vanderik shamanism deals with metals. Ours deals with elixirs. To think that each is the same is simple ignorance. Think of how many uses and varieties in which your people shape and hone their works! You’re a worldly man. You’ve seen shamanism of all kinds. You know magic’s strength.”

​“That I have. A number of purposes, then…”

​“The likes of which you can hardly imagine.”

​The rainforest played its continual chorus as Cendric leaned against a tree and considered his options. “Tell me, then. What did you give Shal?”

​Majad looked downcast. “I did not intend to hurt him. I saw he was overworked, at least in his mind. Panicked. Desperately wishing to return home. I assumed that if he asked to return home, your leader…”

​“Alarik.”

​“He wouldn’t let him. Our people have a history of being treated harshly by bands of which we do not belong. I assume it would be the same,” Majad said, approaching slowly, but this time not as a threat, but as a gesture of trust.

​“A Khorsuli abandoning this mission? Our big lad would have cut him in half before he had the chance to make it out of the rainforest,” Cendric agreed with a nervous chuckle. “Wouldn’t have taken much, though. He’s a skinny one.”

​“I tried to ease his pain. I provided him an elixir that, when taken in minute doses, relieves worries and pressures from the outside world. He overindulged.”

​“Like a lad that couldn’t handle his liquor,” Cendric said, acting like he’d seen it all before when in truth he’d seen nothing of the variety. Liquor made his stomach churn, and he had ‘accidentally’ spilled many drinks to avoid drinking them in his days as a merchant sailor.

​“Correct again,” Majad said.

​“So what’re you promising me, then? What’s in this one?” He held the liquid up to the light. Thin streams of silver danced amongst the pink. It reminded him of watching the gentle, lapping ocean waves bound against his boat on the seas. The sparkling of the light catching the water shimmered just like it did in the flask.

​“It’ll make you forget this business. Forget their treatment of you. Your spurned advances. Your shattered confidence. It’ll bring you back to how you saw yourself before this whole misadventure. Your mind, reset to just a short time ago.” Majad stood very close to him now. Close enough to reach out an arm and place it on his shoulder. “You need to see yourself as you truly are, again. You know that view is tainted now. Return to yourself. Lose your failings. Find your pride again.”

​Cendric went right up to his face, close enough to almost crack into his forehead. “‘Find my pride’? I’ve never lost it! I know what I am! I know who I am!”

​“Yet Inaya escapes your grasp.” It was the first time Majad used her name, making the jab all the more pointed. “You wish to forget her. You know that all these failings stem from her.”

​“Oh, and you know more about me than-”

​“Perhaps I do, navigator. You’ve travelled the world, selling yourself on tales of adventure, and now you’ve found a fish that won’t take your bait. And you cannot handle her denials. You’re a fool around her, and a fool around the rest because of it.” He repeated his point, his dead eyes shifting briefly towards the elixir. “You wish to forget.”

​Cendric raised his upper lip, scowling in the face of the man. He wanted to slap him, to beat him, but he knew he couldn’t and even if he did it wouldn’t change the fact that deep down he knew him to be right. “Fine! Fine, I’ll take your flask! But know this - I am no thin, weak Khorsuli, no half-wit shaman! I am Cendric! Navigator of the high seas, master of the merchant trade, and a man of class and distinction! I will not be lessened by some foul seductress any longer!”

​“Very well. Now, listen. A single drop may yet-”

​“No, Majad. You listen to me. An adventure is never to be experienced through half measures! When one makes a story for the ages, he dives headlong!”

​He removed the stopper and, much like Shalmanesser, refused to heed Majad’s advice. He drank the liquid the same way he had done everything in life since he pulled himself up from watching merchant fleets stop at the docks. He went wholeheartedly into it with full form and mind, downing every single drop in a single, massive gulp. “I am free!”

​“Keep quiet,” Majad urged again. “I don’t wish for the rest of your crusade to hear you.”

​Cendric stared at him, dumbfounded. He blinked once, heavy and long. “Crusade?”

​Majad frowned, sighed, and took a step back. “I bid you farewell. Good luck on your latest adventure. Now this one will truly be a story to tell. If you survive to find your way from.”

​Cendric surveyed his surroundings. “Who…” he muttered as the strange man walked out of the wilderness, swift and confident. Which way was home? What even was home?

​Who was he?

​He wandered off into the rainforest, searching for clues he’d never find.