Chapter Text
The night was still. The dappled light of the moons casting enough of a glow between the leaves of the trees that the still lake, with its clear water and white pebbled belly, shone through the darkness like a beacon, if anyone were to look across the lake now, they would see the silhouette of an encampment, and of a man.
The man was sat on a fallen log in front of the smouldering embers of a dying a fire. Behind him, the dirty cream canvas of a tent buffeted in the wind.
He wished he could just climb back into the caravan and sleep. But this was not the kind of place to sleep unguarded.
He was a sorcerer. So of course, he wasn’t alone in his vigil. He’d cast a perimeter spell, a basic alarm system that would ring out loudly enough to wake all of them if anything but bugs or birds – or the party itself – crossed his perimeter.
He wished he was more adept with the element of fire; he was cold and the wind seemed to be getting crueller. There was another sorcerer in the group who had a great affinity in fire, in fact it was often joked that had he not chosen to be an adventurer with them he would have ended up at the end of a rope for arson. But his watch wasn’t for many more hours, and it would be cruel to wake him now.
There was the rumble of thunder in the distance, and the man sighed, as if expecting worst to come. Several minutes later, the rain began to fall. A mist at first, but soon it was lashing down on him, each drop enough to sting his face and blind him, quashing the scant remains of his fire. The lake was taking a hammering too, suddenly flailing and grey, it’s mirror sheen gone and it crashed angrily against the confines of its shores. The light of the moons faded to nothing, and the man looked out into the pitch blackness.
Then he heard the alarm.
He stood up, searching blindly for whatever it was that had crossed his perimeter, startled when he saw a young woman stood in front of him. Beautiful… glowing faintly as if she were a gift from the moons, sent to illuminate his way. She was in no way dressed for the weather, wearing a floaty white dress with capped sleeves that fell passed her feet.
The storm seemed to diminish around them, like its eye was passing over the camp, giving them this moment of calm, and as the sheets of rain cleared he saw that her opaqueness had not been a trick of the rain.
“Dustin! Dustin what’s going on, why are you just standing there?” Shouted a voice.
Ah yes, the alarm would have woken the others too, Dustin realised, still staring at the apparition in front of him, with no urge to attack or harm her. She was gazing imploringly, the soft blue of her eyes still so vivid.
“Dustin! What are you doing? What set off the perimeter?!”
“You don’t see her?” Dustin asked, turning his head for a moment to glance towards the tent. Lucas was a ranger, and always prepared – so he was already fully dressed and out of his lone tent, Dustin suspected that Lucas slept with his outdoor cloak and his boots still tightly fastened. Certainly, he insisted on sleeping alone on the cold ground instead of inside the caravan with the rest of them, despite the fact there were four of the hard narrow bunks squeezed inside.
“See what?”
“Her.”
“I can.” Came another voice from the caravan steps. Will, their fiery sorcerer.
Dustin nodded in thanks, comforted that he wasn’t going insane.
“Who are you?” Dustin asked the woman.
“…Save… him…”
“Who?”
“…Save…”
Each word was like trying to grasp smoke, it was clear that whoever this spirit was, she wasn’t adept at the interplane connection required to communicate with the living. Dustin knew there were spells that would help her, but none that he had the ability to cast.
“Save who?” Dustin repeated as Will pulled up his cloak hood and trunched through the dead leaves and fallen twigs to join them.
“…my…my beloved…danger…body…soul…”
Dustin felt his heart drop in his chest. A soul in danger. That was a terrible evil, a horrifying concept, and way above his paygrade. He didn’t even have a paygrade.
“Who is your beloved? Where is he?”
“…Hawkynn… Hawkynn…”
“His name’s Hawkynn? Hawkynn who?”
“Hawkynn? No, that’s a place.” Mike interrupted from by his tent, “It’s on the road ahead, maybe two days ride from here.”
Mike was a barbarian of short temper and a narrow mind. He could either see her too or just happened to be looking in her direction as he spoke. When Dustin turned back to look at the apparition, Will was reaching out to touch her.
“No! don’t—”
As Will’s fingers brushed through her arm, she turned her face to him, and her beauty was suddenly distorted. Eyeless, wide-mouthed and ashen, broken and twisted. The two men yelped, Will stumbling backwards, and falling over a tree root, landing hard on his backside and staring up at her.
She flickered, and the beautiful version was back.
“Save…save…must…help…save…” She begged, her blue eyes shining, fat tears falling down her cheeks. Beautiful still, even in grief.
“What’s going on?” Lucas asked.
“There’s… there’s a ghost. She wants our help.” Will explained from the floor as Dustin stared back at her, frozen to the spot.
“Screw that!”
“I don’t think she’ll leave unless we agree.”
“Then tell her we’ll do it in the morning, so she can wander back off and I can get some sleep!”
Will scowled at his friend, before turning back to look at the ghost.
“What’s his name? Your… your beloved?” Dustin asked, and the ghost gave a tiny little smile through her tears, as if the name alone brought her joy.
“…Eddie…”
“Eddie.” Dustin repeated, nodding.
“…Save… Save Eddie… Mun—Munson…save…”
“I will.” Dustin agreed, blinking back tears of his own as he felt an echo of her pain pull at his heartstrings.
“She’s gone.” said Will quietly, then louder so that the others would him as the rain began to lash down again.
“Great – can I get some sleep now?” Asked Lucas, already turning back to his tent as Dustin continued to stare.
“What is it?” Will asked him, getting awkwardly back to his feet.
“She’s still here.” Dustin told him, confused. “Can’t you see her?”
“No…?”
She was harder to see now that the rain had returned, but she was so clearly still standing in front of them. Dustin looked at Mike, who shook his head.
Lucas was climbing back into his tent, and the ghost scowled, her lips pursing.
“Guys… I don’t think it can wait. I think we should leave now.”
“You want to pack up? In this weather? In the middle of the night?” Lucas demanded.
Dustin nodded, turning his head again to look at Mike imploringly.
“Okay. Let’s go.” Mike agreed, disappearing back into the caravan to don his boots.
“Are you kidding me?” Lucas raged as Dustin headed towards the tent to help. Will hesitated, before joining them, and though he continued to grumble and complain, Lucas begrudgingly picked up his rucksack and started putting down his tent with rough unhappy movements.
The ghost followed Dustin like a shadow as the encampment was put away and packed onto the rear of their mounts.
Dustin’s mount was a great behemoth of a horse, bred more for pulling carts and toiling fields than as an adventurer’s steed. But he had been his mother’s horse. She’d gifted him to Dustin as a way of telling him she supported his decision to head out into the world, and Dustin would never have been persuaded to trade D’Artagnan for a more appropriate mount, and now that they had the caravan, he wouldn’t have to.
Dart plodded along behind the others on the barely visible road, the caravan rocking gently in time with his rump. Will’s mount, a flighty mare they had found on their last little adventure who was named Star for the star-shaped blaze on her dainty forehead road just in front of him, her tail swishing nervously.
Lucas was a few paces in front, on a horse imaginatively named ‘Horse’. Mike was leading their party on a mule. It had been the only rideable beast available in the last village after Mike’s previous mount had grown lame, and he hadn’t wanted to sit aboard the drivers bench with Dustin at the back of the party. The mule didn’t have a name yet, but Mike had semi-affectionately referred to the animal as ‘Wastoid’ a few times now, and Dustin suspected the name would stick.
As the sun rose and the storm eventually broke, Will used his fire skills to dry them all of. The first time he’d tried this he’d scorched Mike’s cloak, but he’d gotten adept at heating his hands and using them as some kind of iron since then, and soon – though they were still muddy and tired – they were blessedly dry.
Sometimes Dustin would lose sight of the ghost and think she’d gone, but then he’d catch a flash of her when a cloud rolled overhead or as they passed through a particularly thick patch of trees that dimmed the bright sun. She was floating alongside him by D’Artagnan’s head, who seemed aware of her presence, his ears often twitching forward curiously as he turned his head to look in her direction, contentedly chewing the bit in his mouth, playing with it between his teeth.
Lucas was still moaning about their early start. Dustin personally thought he should be grateful he hadn’t done his watch yet. He’d at least gotten more sleep than Mike or Dustin – Mike had had the least sleep of all of them, having taken the first watch, and he wasn’t complaining.
Though perhaps he was too tired to complain. It seemed Wastoid was leading them down the road without any input from his rider.
As the sun grew warm overhead, Dustin heard the unmistakable woosh of an arrow and scanned their surroundings carefully, dropping his long reigns to free his hands up for a defensive spell. But it had only been Lucas.
He had caught sight of a rabbit in the meadows to the right of them.
Hunger grumbled in Dustin’s stomach as Lucas swiftly dismounted and fetched his prize from the undergrowth.
Mike had turned in his saddle with a sour expression to see what was happened and pulled the mule to standstill when he saw the rabbit in Lucas’s fist.
They dismounted and Will brought a fire roaring to life on the side of the road with a simple snap of his fingers. Fire still required fuel, and with none, it would either fade or suck the life-force from its caster, so they still foraged for kindling as Lucas got to work skinning and gutting the rabbit.
They had basic supplies inside the caravan and they had foraged plenty the day before, and so Mike was able to pull a sack of dirty tubers from a rough sack and save their precious supply of oats for another day. They worked easily together, having made meals on the road together for many months, and so it was with great efficiency that they soon had a well-fuelled fire crackling away, the potatoes boiling merrily in a pot and the rabbit roasting on a slap-dash spit.
As their midday breakfast cooked, Dustin sat by the fire. Despite being dry, and having the sun shining down on them, he still felt chilled. He thought perhaps it was the ghost, or just the experience of meeting her. But his bones ached with the cold.
Mike sat down next to him. Mike had seen the apparition but had only heard Dustin’s side of the conversation, and – always their de facto leader – was keen to quiz Dustin on everything the ghost had said.
“She said his soul was in danger, Mike. Body and soul.”
Mike whistled, “And he’s in Hawkynn?”
“That’s what she said.”
“What else?”
“Nothing – she, she struggled for every word, she just kept telling me to save him.”
Mike could see that his friend was struggling and reached out to give his fingers a reassuring squeeze.
“Then we’ll save him.” He said, as if was simple. Like collecting eggs or filling a waterskin.
Dustin nodded, swallowing.
“Can you still see her?”
Dustin looked around, squinting. It wasn’t long before he saw her faint image on the other side of the road, looking sorrowfully into their fire, and he nodded again, pointing her out with one finger.
“Can you ask her what danger he’s in? We need to know as much as possible.”
I don’t know. Dustin thought. She hasn’t spoken since we left camp. Can she still talk?
‘…do… my best…’
Dustin jumped. The reply hadn’t been said aloud, her mouth hadn’t moved, but he had heard her. Her distinct voice, inside his head.
What danger is he in? Dustin asked in his mind, staring intently at the barely-there shape of her.
‘body… soul…’
No. I know that. But how? What’s happening?
‘not… happ—happ—’ she struggled, the voice in his head growing quieter until he couldn’t hear anything from her anymore.
Dustin sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think she’s very good at the whole ghost thing.”
Mike pursed his lips. “Well, keep trying.”
Dustin nodded, and even as they broke their fast and put out the fire, and as the others re-mounted and Dustin swung back up onto the bench, and as they continued on their way, he still sought her out with his mind, questioning her. But although he could still see her, he didn’t hear from her again.
Lucas was adamant that they would make camp that night. Get full bellies and a full night’s rest. Mike had approximated that Hawkynn had been two days ride away, if he was right, they would be there tomorrow evening. It would have to do. They were all hungry and falling asleep in their saddles.
If they were to save Eddie Munson’s soul, they would need all their strength.