For Boredom's Sake: Eric's Tale
Chapter VIII: More Snow
By Eric Greer
Eric had been walking all night. He had planned on finally making camp a few hours before dawn when snow once again began to fall. Fearful that he would arrive in Tal to find no ships in port, he ignored the pains in his legs and pressed on.
It was not until sometime around noon that he finally allowed himself a break, and sat down on a fallen tree. Looking up, he watched as snow flakes slowly fell through the canopy above. Winter had taken hold of Saros. He took the small loaf of bread from his bag. There wasn't much left: even if he tried to ration it, he wouldn't be eating tomorrow. He also hadn't drank anything since he had left Mortimer's. He had considered eating snow, but he figured that, since it would lower his internal body temperature, he would save that as a last resort.
So, he ate half of his bread, saving the other half for that night.
He sat and rested for as long as he could, but he knew that he would have to get moving soon. In his mind he could see the last ship pulling out to sea. He ignored the pain in his legs as he stood up and picked up his bag.
He was either moving at a faster pace than he thought or Mortimer had been mistaken. He had reached the forest's edge and was now standing on a hilltop. Below was a rolling plain, beyond which he could spy the port of Tal.
As he began to stumble his way down the steep, snow covered hillside, his exhaustion finally caught up with him. As he tumbled down the hill, the only positive thought that ran through his head was, At least I don't have to walk. When he finally hit the bottom he was out of breath and caked in snow.
"God dammit!" he said. He was cold, sore, and completely out of energy. He had almost constantly been on the move for nearly seventeen hours, and he was probably another six hours from Tal, and that was if he ran. He hadn't been on this earth for four days and he was already starting to regret accepting Sol's offer.
He allowed himself to lay there in the snow for a few minutes before he reluctantly pulled himself up again.
"You couldn't have threw me somewhere a little closer to civilization?" he yelled, looking up at the sky.
Almost as if in answer an eastern wind picked up.
With a sigh (and more than a few grumbles of discontent) he stood up and willed his legs forward.
He hadn't been walking long when something to his south caught his eye. He couldn't be sure, but it almost looked like some sort of structure, though it appeared to be leaning to one side. He had almost missed it in the snow. His path had brought him into a shallow dip in the plain, and Tal was completely blocked from view. As the snow still hadn't let up (if anything, it had picked up), and Tal might as well be a million leagues away, the structure's allure proved too much, and he made straight for it.
When he finally reached it, he discovered it to be an abandoned covered wagon. It was indeed leaning to one side, as the left wheel appeared to have shattered completely. Luckily, it didn't seem to have been abandoned long, as the canvas top was still intact.
Crawling inside, Eric found it to be completely empty; all the more room for him to stretch out. While he had hated the idea of wasting more time, he also hated the idea of possibly freezing to death, and would rather risk missing a ship than possibly being sent back to that lake (which was probably frozen by now). Taking the last morsel of bread from his bag, he quickly scarfed it down. That took care of the last of his food. The coins he had stolen from that villager would go to good use: his first stop would be the inn for his first proper meal since....
Come to think of it, how long has it been since I died? he thought. His mishaps over the last few days, as well as his single-minded drive to reach Tal, had kept the question from popping into his mind. He had died in the final days of the spring of 489; had it only been a few months?
As he lay there, this question burned in his mind, driving away all thought of food. Finally, he fell asleep, the sounds of the wind outside lulling him to sleep.
He had slept through the night and most of the following day, much longer than he had intended. On the plus side, he didn't feel like total crap. Sure, his legs were still sore, and the blinding white brightness of the snow pretty much destroyed his retinas for about five minutes, but he felt much, much better. So much so that, after falling out of the back of the wagon, he began to run east towards Tal. If there were any ships still sitting in port, he was going to be on one of them, even if he had to kill everyone on board.
The clouds had once again receded. The sun was drifting to the west, while in the east the two moons were already visible.
He reached Tal by nightfall. The town was small and far from civilized by Eric's standards. Its primary purpose was to serve as a drop off point for freight destined to the other three villages of Saros. Most of the buildings were simply warehouses, though there was a general store, an inn, and a pub, mostly catering to the crews of passing freighters and trade vessels. During the coming winter months, the town would be deserted, except for a few families who would keep watch on the warehouses and work on the docks in the unlikely event that a ship would take to port.
"Yes! Yes!" he said, dancing, as he reached the docks: there were two large ships docked. Both were of generic design, with two masts, one centrally located, and one aft.
Relieved that he had arrived before the final ships had left port, he relaxed. Leaning on a wooden post, he looked out to sea. The night sky was clear, and the two moons and the stars reflected in the calm ocean water. For the first time in several days he felt like things were finally going his way. Maybe the gods weren't going to give him such a hard time after all.
Or maybe they were just setting him up for another fall. Who knows? He had learned a very long time ago that optimism was for suckers, and things like trust and hope can get you killed; this he knew from experience. Slipping on a patch of ice on his way to the inn only helped to further cement these beliefs.
Copyright 2011 by Eric Greer. All rights reserved.
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