A Hero's Journey: It Takes Two - Part 4

      RTo be continued…ain fell, wind blew, lightning struck, and thunder boomed all over Meridell. Rivulets of water dribbled from the trees and created an abundance of mud puddles on the forest floor. And nestled within a cluster of dripping trees was a ramshackle lean-to built with logs, branches and a tent used as a tarp.

     Curled up in the lean-to, along with all their things, were Jeran and Rohane. They were in the middle of a storm of their own.

     “Move!” the Blue Lupe complained as he shoved his companion. “Ugh, this is a tight fit. Don’t you know how to make a good lean-to?”

     “You were the one who said we were building it here!” Rohane retorted. “And you told me not to go too far when looking for materials!”

     “You could’ve improvised!”

     “Or, you could have listened to me and considered that maybe, just maybe, I know a little more about making lean-tos than you do!”

     Jeran snorted as he tried adjusting his position. “Like how you know all about packing a map for this trip?”

     “Your tail is in the way!”

     Their spat was interrupted by a flash of lightning and the answering crack of thunder, but it did not take long for them to start fighting again.

     “Besides, how can we find shelter when we know the baron’s son is still out there?” Rohane asked, folding his arms across his chest. “Shouldn’t we keep going? We can’t leave him out in the rain.”

     The other knight shook his head. “I know, but it’s pouring so hard, we’d get even more lost. We can just keep going once the rain stops…and take this time to rest. Maybe take a nap. He sounds like a smart kid; I’m sure he was able to find shelter.”

     “I don’t know if I can even take a nap. I just hope Wilbert’s okay.”

     “You mean Wilfred. And look who’s complaining about my tail, your tail is over my feet.”

     * * *

     Even in Jeran’s dreams, the weather did not improve. Rain poured in torrents over Darigan Citadel as he and his sword exchanged blows with an all-too-familiar Eyrie, who grinned maniacally and leapt back. Instinctively, Jeran pursued him.

     “It’s the end of the line, Kass!” But from the corner of his eye, the Lupe could see the edge of the Citadel and the rolling grey clouds in the sky. He swallowed the lump of panic that had formed in his throat and tried to focus on taking his opponent down. Still, it was difficult to ignore the terrible chill that had begun from the base of his skull, running all the way down his spine.

     Lord Kass just laughed as he fended off Jeran’s relentless barrage of strikes. Suddenly, he threw aside his own blade and, with a feral roar, hurled himself onto the knight.

     Jeran realised too late that Kass had thrown both of them off the Citadel.

     As they fell, his stomach rose into his throat, and he gave vent to a scream of primal fear. He tried to at least disentangle himself from the Darigan Eyrie wrestling with him in midair, but he couldn’t pry him off. Jeran screamed till he was hoarse as they continued to plummet through the seemingly endless skies, not daring to look down…

     Then he opened his eyes, breathing hard, and saw the tent overhead, darker from soaking up rainwater and still supported by several tree branches. His surroundings were darker too, and quieter; night had fallen, and the storm was reduced to a trickle from the tops of the trees and their makeshift shelter. The familiar sights made Jeran let out a long, low breath; he was not on the Darigan Citadel or falling off it; he was still here, in the woods of Meridell, looking for a lost child.

     But something was still pressed against his chest, and when he looked to see what it was, he bit back a yell of surprise.

     Rohane had his arm around Jeran’s torso and was too deep in his sleep to notice. Jeran opened his mouth to wake his colleague but closed it with a soft, exasperated sigh as he lay there with his feet propped up on the flimsy wall of their lean-to, with their bags on one side and a snoozing Blumaroo on the other.

     I should wake him, Jeran thought. We could keep going now, just like he wanted. And he was the one who said he wouldn’t be able to nap, knowing Waldo is still lost. That last thing on his mind made him smile with mild amusement, but his smile faded when he heard Rohane mumbling in his sleep. Ever so slightly, Jeran inclined his head to listen.

     “…won’t let you…no, Terask, never…”

     Oh, right. Jeran nodded slowly, grimacing. He must be dreaming of Terask. The huge Draik who tried to take over Faerieland. Just like how I was dreaming of Kass and fighting him on the Citadel…doesn’t sound like a good dream, either.

     Rohane’s grip tightened, and he rested his head against the Blue Lupe’s chest. Jeran heavily considered finally waking him up, and he grimaced.

     This is so awkward.

     “No…not them…Jeran!”

     “What?!” Jeran exclaimed before he could control himself.

     “Huh…what?”

     Rohane came awake and noticed that he was lying on Jeran’s chest. It took a fraction of a second for both knights to stare at each other in horror; let out matching, piercing screams; and hurriedly extricate themselves from each other, falling all over their things, slamming into different sides of the lean-to, and causing it to fall apart on top of them. Under the tent and the branches, they flailed and tried to escape the mess, all while trying not to meet each other’s eyes.

     For several moments, they placed as much space as possible between themselves as they slowly disassembled their lean-to and folded up the tent after wringing it dry.

     “Look,” Rohane began, attempting to explain.

     “It’s…” Jeran had no idea what to say.

     “Uh…”

     “That’s…”

     They let their voices trail off, faces beet red, still refusing to look at each other as they hurriedly packed and picked up their supplies and continued their journey.

     * * *

     With the storm over, the sky was clear, and Kreludor was in a full phase, lighting Jeran and Rohane’s way through mud puddles and dripping foliage. Though they walked side by side through the woods, they remained as silent as possible, only speaking to each other when necessary.

     “I don’t like the look of that path. It’s slippery.”

     “Yeah, Jeran, I agree.”

     Thick clouds began to glide serenely across the dark sky, covering Kreludor and dimming the knights’ surroundings. Jeran groaned softly and picked up a branch from the ground, shaking rainwater from it when they stopped at a fork in the path – two equally worn paths winding in different directions, one leading deeper into the forest, and the other thinning out into drier, rockier ground.

     “We can’t light a torch,” Rohane objected. “The last thing we need is a beacon to show whatever is lurking in these woods where we are.”

     “First, we don’t have a map, and now you don’t want us to have a torch,” the Blue Lupe replied sardonically. “Unless you know exactly where we should go to find Waldo.” He swept his free hand over one path, and then the other.

     “Waldorf,” Rohane corrected.

     “Nobles and their overly fancy names.” Jeran brandished the branch before asking, “So, Mister Pathfinder, left, or right?”

     The Blumaroo stared at the denser route before focusing on the bare one. “It would be easier to go through here. Less cover means we can find Waldorf more easily, and monsters and wild Petpets won’t have so many places to hide.”

     Jeran pondered this before tossing his stick aside. “But more cover is good for us, isn’t it? Wilfred could also be using those hiding places since he was smart enough to evade the castle guards, his tutor, and his dad.”

     “We’re wasting time,” said Rohane, waving his hand dismissively. “We need to keep moving.”

     “We could keep moving if you would just listen to me and take the woodsy path.”

     “But I’m telling you, we’re better off on the other one.”

     “It’s worn down. Who knows what could be using that path, especially at night?”

     “You asked me what path we’re taking, and I’m saying we take the dry one, and now you don’t want to take it!” Rohane groaned, running a hand down his face before slowly looking at Jeran. “Wait. Are you saying you’re scared, Jeran?”

     “What?” The Lupe bared his teeth in a scowl. “I’m not being scared, I’m being careful and logical, two things you aren’t!”

     “Picking the drier path is being careful!”

     Jeran threw up his arms. “We’re going nowhere! Okay, what about this?” He offered his fist. “Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to choose the path we’re taking.”

     Rohane raised an eyebrow but nodded and extended his own fist. “Fine. Ready?”

     “One, two, three!”

     “Paper beats rock, I win! We’re taking the worn path. The right one.”

     “Don’t let it get to your head.” Jeran muttered. He rolled his eyes but followed the Blumaroo without further complaint, pushing aside a low-hanging branch of a tree as they trudged past rocks and bushes. An inquisitive Drackonack peeked from its burrow at them before disappearing. As the foliage thinned out, they noticed more hills and caves.

     The Lupe smirked. “You were saying? Those are some top-notch hiding places for creatures and such, don’t you think?” The older knight grabbed Rohane. “Let’s check them out.”

     “Watch it, you didn’t have to grab me!”

     “You just kept on going!”

     Rohane raised his hand. “Shhh! I thought I heard something.”

     “What?”

     “It sounded like a twig snapping.” The White Blumaroo pointed to a cluster of bushes near the smallest cave – too small for either of them to enter without stooping. Jeran frowned but fell silent as they approached the bushes slowly and steadily, hands on their sword hilts. The bushes rustled again, and a Tralbak stumbled from its hiding place, regarding the knights for a few seconds before scampering away into the undergrowth.

     Jeran snorted. “You heard a Tralbak.”

     “It could have been anything!” Rohane insisted but nevertheless breathed a sigh of relief.

     “Well, you could be right about that being anything.” The Lupe approached the cluster of bushes and tried to peer behind them. Rohane followed suit. “Still, I can’t find anything. Ugh, I could really use a torch – “ Jeran gasped as the soil slid downward from under his foot, taking him along with it. He forgot all about being quiet and careful as he shouted.

     “Aaaaah!”

     “Jeran?!”

     Rohane instinctively reached out to try and grab his commander, only to miss the Lupe’s wrist and fall along with him in a flurry of loose rock and dirt. The two of them tumbled unceremoniously to the bottom of the ditch, spitting out dirt and brushing mud off their clothes.

     “Are you okay?” Jeran asked, struggling to get back onto his feet. He reached out to feel the walls of the ditch, searching for roots or anything else they could use as footholds. Then he took off his pack and rummaged through it.

     “I’m fine!” Rohane stood up and stared at the edge of the gully overhead. “The sides are too smooth for us to climb, and it’s too high for either of us to jump.”

     Jeran drew a length of rope from his pack, tied one end into a loop, and tried to toss it toward the nearest tree root. Unfortunately, the rope kept falling short, and he grunted in frustration. “Not even you?”

     The White Blumaroo scowled at him, but there was something about his scowl that was more disappointed, or perhaps sad, than angry or infuriated. He reached out to touch his tail.

     “I can’t use my tail.”

     “What?” The rope loop plopped squarely onto his head. “Oof!”

      “After the battle with Terask, I injured my tail so badly that…the healers told me I won’t be able to stand on it, ever again. Let alone jump. Sorry, you’re stuck with the one Blumaroo who can’t bounce you out of this mess.” Rohane folded his arms across his chest and looked away.

     At first, Jeran was silent as rolled the rope back up.

     “Oh. I…didn’t know that.”

     “I didn’t think I needed to tell anyone.” Rohane paused before adding a subdued, “Sorry.”

     “You don’t have to be sorry,” Jeran answered. “We’ll just come up with a new plan. I can’t throw the rope far enough to reach that large root, and jumping is out of the question.”

     Rohane nodded. “But if one of us stands on the other’s shoulders, we might have a better shot.”

     “You know what?” Jeran paused and shrugged. “That’s the best thing you’ve come up with all night. Now, give me a boost.”

     “You? This was my idea, you should be giving me a boost. Also, you’re taller.”

     “I have the rope, so I’m getting on your shoulders.”

     “That’s not fair!”

     Jeran growled. “Nothing’s fair! We just fell into a ditch, we still can’t find the Bori we’re looking for, and you’re being a meathead about this!”

     “Look who’s talking, meathead!” Rohane groaned, clapping a hand to his forehead before remarking acidly, “Maybe we should just settle this with rock, paper, scissors.”

     The Lupe sighed, but held out his hand, balling it into a fist. “Best two out of three.”

     “Fine. One, two, three.”

     “Scissors beats paper!”

     Rohane sighed this time. “Ugh, okay, that’s one point for you.”

     “Two more rounds and we’re done. One, two…three! What?”

     “Hah, I knew you’d try scissors again!”

     “I-It was a snap decision! Fine, this is the last round – “

     A new voice cut through the night air. “Are you playing rock, paper, scissors? I wanna play too!”

     Jeran and Rohane both jumped, forgetting about their game entirely as they craned their necks to find the speaker. As the clouds slid delicately away from Kreludor, the two swordsmen could see a dark face with pointy ears and a smile – the face of a little Bori.

     “Wilfred!” Jeran exclaimed.

     “Wilbert!” Rohane cried at the exact same time, and the two of them looked at each other in askance.

     “Or was it Wilhelm?” the Lupe corrected himself uncertainly.

     Rohane shook his head. “No, William.”

     But the Bori just laughed as he gazed down at the two of them as though they were very fascinating, very fancy plushies behind a glass display case. “It’s Wilfrith, but just call me Will.” One sharp intake of breath later, he added, “And you’re Sir Jeran and Sir Rohane, two of the best, strongest knights in Meridell!”

     “I can’t believe we got his name wrong, Jeran.”

     “Don’t worry, Sir Rohane!” Will crowed before Jeran could answer. He pouted briefly. “I don’t like my real name much. That’s why you can just call me Will. So…are we gonna play rock, paper, scissors now?”

     “Uh, not right now,” said Jeran hastily. “Rohane and I still need to get out of this ditch, and…”

     “Ooh, ooh, can I help? What do I do?” The Purple Bori paused. “I don’t think I brought any rope, but…”

     Jeran held up their rope. “Don’t worry about that. Actually, it looks like Rohane and I won’t need a boost. Will, can you get a little closer? Be careful you don’t fall.”

     “Are you going to try and throw the rope up to him?”

     The Blue Lupe nodded as drew back, preparing to throw the rope. “Do you like playing catch, Will? I can’t reach that large tree root beside you, but if you can catch this rope, you can tie it there, and we can climb back up.”

     “My sisters played catch with me when I was little!” Will’s eyes lit up as he stepped closer to the edge of the ditch. “I’m ready, Sir Jeran! I can do it!”

     “All right, heads up!”

     Jeran tossed the rope up, with Rohane positioned to catch it again in case Will missed. But Will did not miss and managed to grab one end of the rope and tie it to the thick root next to him for the two knights to climb.

     “Good job, Will!” the White Blumaroo called up to him.

     “You did it!”

     “I did it!” The Bori jumped up and down excitedly as Jeran began climbing the rope. “I really did it!”

     “Wait, shouldn’t you be asleep?” Jeran asked as he reached up and hauled himself out of the ditch with his things. “Or trying to get back home? The rain has stopped.”

     “I was asleep until I heard something moving around outside. I thought it was a bunch of Petpets so I went out to see, and then followed the sounds, and found both of you!” said Will excitedly. “Were you looking for me?”

     “Yeah, your father sent us,” Rohane answered as he started climbing.

     Jeran looked Will over from head to foot. “Are you okay? You’ve been out in the woods overnight already.”

     “It’s fine, I brought some food and supplies, and when it rained, I ran into this cave…down there.” The Purple Bori pointed vaguely north with his claw. He smiled proudly. “I was ready for anything, just like a real knight! Uh, almost anything.”

     “Why don’t you get ready for bed? Rest up; Rohane and I will take you back to the castle first thing tomorrow morning.”

     “You are?”

     After clambering out of the ditch, Rohane untied the rope and started coiling it up. “Of course we are. Your father was worried about you – worried enough to ask us to look for you.”

     Will pouted. “Was he, really?”

     “Well, he doesn’t like knights, yet here he is, asking two knights to search for his only son,” Jeran answered. “Besides, the woods can be dangerous.”

     “I can handle it! Even if Dad doesn’t like knights…I want to be one! I want to protect and save everyone, use a sword, and go on awesome adventures…that’s why I left the castle! To show him I can do it!” Will paused. “And, because my classes were starting to get boring.” He grinned and shrugged.

     Jeran and Rohane traded a look before the former tilted his head ever so slightly at the later. The White Blumaroo took this as a signal to think of something.

     “We have to bring you back, but who knows, we might wind up having more adventures along the way.”

     The Lupe sighed. “I think I’ve had enough adventures for one day…” His voice trailed off at the sight of the little Bori. “But we don’t have much of a choice, we have to travel back to the castle and pass through the woods again.”

      To be continued…