45th of Winter, 512 AV
“Why do I do what I do?”
“Why do I do what I do?”
Gentle music flowed through the air almost as freely as drink into the mugs of the men—and less commonly, women—that surrounded him in the warmly lit room. Orange glows of crackling fire danced shadows against his fair skin, a form hunched over the bar of the World’s End Inn that he and his longtime friend and partner had decided to call home for their time in this harbor town. Jubilance and excitement filled the bar as the lightly brown haired man chatted idly with the barkeep. People danced, kissed, sang, and in all ways enjoyed the falling eve of the day; all the while he remained a rock in the rushing river, isolated and alone as the fervor of the day washed about harmlessly around him.
An island as waves crashed about.
The day itself was nothing spectacular for most. The forty-fifth of the winter season and already the cold outside began to seep into the bones of any foolish enough to endure it for any length of time. As of this moment, in the back of his mind, he knew that Red would soon be leaving his meeting with the mysterious old lady. The man without a name had insisted that he go first, something that the young man of Riverfall had no issue with. Allow him to have the first swing at her. She had agreed to meet with both of them in the same day though she did not guarantee that she would offer them both the trip to Darva.
I might just damn well take my own boat to the island, he thought. Of course the idea of tagging along should Red be chosen and not he was one that had floated in the back of his consciousness for a while already. Just how difficult could it possibly be? The woman intended to take more than one, so the craft upon which they sailed would certainly be more than just a raft! How hard could such a thing be to follow in open water? Even if it was to a land as mysterious and dangerous as Darva…Nonsense! I’ll be just fine. Why I can stand to trade blows with Red so why not command a boat of my own and follow another? How hard could that possibly be? Darva itself is land and I’m more than comfortable on my own two feet!
All of this self-assurance did little to assuage his nerves. Flashes of the time they spent together filled his mind, invisible behind the twin pools of dark brown that he called eyes. What would it be like were one of them to be offered the trip and the other not, one sent into danger while the other was forced to stay behind? Although his conversational partner—an activity he had paid little mind to so far—could not see it, this very idea troubled the man to his core.
Thohorn did not want to be alone any more than he wanted Red to be.
Finally a mental clock rang out in his mind and told him it was time to make his way to the house of the woman that insisted she interview each coming participant. To learn their reasons for wanting to go on what many would consider a suicide mission: A reason that he had thought deeply on.
“Thanks for the time, friend,” he said. Thohorn rose from the chair slowly, his body stiff and creaky after having sat for so long following an otherwise active day. He nodded with his best, award-winning smile across his lips. As he came upright one of his large, strong hands pulled the thick, warm, leather jacket from the back of the tall wooden chair and tossed it around his cloth-covered shoulders. The barkeep—an older man maybe even into his fortieth decade—gave a nod as the Riverfall local made for the door.
“Good luck with that old bat, son,” he said, his hands idly shining a glass before another patron called out for a refill.
Just as his new friend turned to handle his customer the hand of the excessively tall Thohorn pushed over the rough, wooden door and let in a blast of crisp winter air. It hit like an anvil, like winter always did. The leather did a good job of parting the whistling winds as he pushed head-first into the town, his nose already numbing from the exposure.
Why I want to go to Darva… he repeated this in his mind over and over. Why go, what would he even do anyway? Just what of interest could possibly be on Darva? Red wanted to find a name; this was no surprise or unexpected twist. Others wanted adventure, fame, fortune, the opportunity to learn, or to simply not be left out of something that had even the slimmest chance of becoming an historic event.
Certainly, the chance was slim indeed.
Lonely footsteps were the only thing that sounded in concert with the howl of the air that ripped through him. His entire body felt as if the skin itself might peel off were he to spend a day in this! Of course he had not even bothered to put his jacket together and instead it was open, allowing the wind to beat against his chest as if he were a drum or sheet hung out to dry. Perhaps he was a flag, a traveling symbol of the strength and greatness of Riverfall and its teachings?
Why I want to go to Darva… it echoed. Louder and louder it echoed through the chamber of his mind. Why did it trouble him so? He could list any number of reasons! …But did he have any? In truth he had nothing he was aspiring for at the moment. Not the favor of the god, not some great path to unlimited power that he could see so clearly before himself. Already he had found just what he had been looking for—what he thought he had been looking for—in the companionship he had developed with Red. Adventure, freedom, and a standard to measure himself by!
Yet he still knew that it was not time for him to go home. It would be time to go home when he had found whatever it was that he seemed to be missing.
Suddenly he was in front of the door.
Red had likely long since left, it being well after the appointed time for his meeting. It was only shortly after, a modest gap to allow her time to recover and reflect, that his meeting was scheduled to begin—now, in fact. Once more his hand pushed open a wooden door and was greeted by a sweet scent of burning candles. Quickly he pushed himself past the greeting room, farther into the house, to the room full of books where the woman had insisted that they would remain. All the while he walked with a youthful, innocent curiosity. Such a house, such an estate! She even had someone to open the door for him! Even the estate of his family back in Riverfall had paled in comparison. This woman truly had wealth. Why did she want to risk her life here?
Finally he was moving between rows and rows of books. Many, many more books than he had ever seen a single person ever collect. Just how much money did this all cost? Just how long had it taken to get them all? Had this Charm Wright actually read a considerable chunk of them? Certainly she was an older woman with knowledge that probably dwarfed his own, but if these books were any indication…perhaps she expected something on Darva that he simply could not fathom? A paltry amount like twenty three years—including all the life lived therein—likely could not challenge the potential knowledge she might have.
Next, he was on a posh couch and seated comfortably before the woman.
“Riverbed. Thohorn Riverbed. It’s a pleasure, miss Wright,” he introduced himself, calm and at ease on the outside while his mind rushed around and tried to anticipate just what it was that she might ask him. What his abilities were, what skills he had? What he could do against certain things, what he would add to the group to make this journey all that safer for them? All of these things he had prepared brilliant answers for; why not be confident?
A pin dropped.
Why I want to go to Darva…?
Incredulous, his mind had repeated the question. That was the only thing she wanted to know, and the countenance of a man caught completely off guard was black-and-white on his face. Slowly he shifted from leaned back casually against her couch to hunched over, his arms against his knees, with a soft and unwavering gaze of a lost man. That began the laughter, slow and deep as his eyes softly closed. The one question, the one thing he had not rehearsed endlessly!
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he began, a warm and inviting smile upon his lips as he looked back up at the elder woman across from him. “It’s just…I had prepared a whole host of answers to questions I thought you might ask. Yet that one has evaded me all night. To be honest, miss Wright; to be entirely honest?”—he allowed himself a pause, his head slightly tilted to the side—“I don’t want my friends to be alone. I myself have little vested interest in the mysteries behind Darva. Of myself I would make a liar were I to list any reason for still traveling as I do. I’m not sure why. But what I do know? The Kelvic woman you met earlier today, Red too? I care about them a great deal. If either of them goes, I want to be there. Whatever faces you—them, us—on Darva?”
For just a moment, just a single moment he glanced away as he spoke.
“I don’t want anyone to face it alone.”
