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Damned If I Do, Damned If I Don't (Chapter 18)
🕑 Added 2023-07-11 21:23:40 +0000 UTCSoon, dawn broke; the sun’s morning rays and the caravanners’ ruckus dragging me kicking-and-screaming out of dreamland.
I awoke feeling grouchy and groggy with Erik standing over me, forlornly clutching a few wildflowers in one hand.
“They’re gone.”
Sighing, I sat up, fumbling for something to wet my parched throat.
“I know.”
My brother turned his head, looking at me expressionlessly.
“That man… he said they’d stay with the caravan until Pemberton.”
Squinting against the sunlight, I scratched my unruly hair. Pemberton was a mining town—our next destination.
After drinking some water, I yawned and stretched.
“He lied.”
Having expected it, I wasn’t disappointed. During our brief time together, Willem made one thing abundantly clear—I didn’t belong in hisworld.
In light of that, he broke things off quickly and cleanly, not wanting to lead me on or have me develop unrealistic expectations.
His back to me, I saw Erik clenching his fist, crushing the flowers in his hand. Before I could reflect on his embarrassing behavior, he whirled around, staring piercingly at my chest.
“Who was she? Why did she give you… that?”
He took a step forward, looming over me.
I fought to keep a frown off my face. His fixation was getting out of hand—sure, I had my own teenage angst, but it was limited to moping in my room or staring forlornly out the window.
“My answer to both questions is ‘I don’t know’.”
I shrugged, my expression non-plussed. It was somewhat of a white-lie, given my suspicions—that is, from the mystery girl’s tone and the look in her ice-blue eyes, I detected a trace of pity.
However, I wouldn’t be telling Erik.
My brother drew closer, clenching his teeth and ready to pull me up by the lapels.
“You’re lying.”
His voice was a little hoarse.
This time, I didn’t hide my frown. Erik was sorely mistaken if he wanted to lord it over me like Jed.
“What’s the matter with you, why do you care so much about that girl? Don’t forget, there’s still Grace back home.”
My brother’s expression changed, briefly looking guilty. However, he soon rallied.
“You’re hiding secrets from me! From the beginning, you were involved with that… sorcerer. If you didn’t know who he was, why did you speak with him? Why did he come for you last night?”
Erik’s crossed his arms, his attitude suddenly turning self-righteous.
Usually, I wouldn’t involve myself in these types of quarrels, but I was in a foul mood for multiple reasons.
I leapt to my feet, shoving a finger in his face.
“What the hell’s it got to do with you? When you disappear in the mornings or get piss-drunk with your ‘friends’, I keep my mouth shut.”
Being scolded by me, Erik’s anger suddenly surged. However, despite his reddening face and the veins bulging in his neck, I was undeterred.
“Mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine.”
For a few moments, we stared at each other, neither willing to back down. Unfortunately, before we could talk or fight things out, we were interrupted.
“Wow Erik, my little brothers wouldn’t dare talk to me like that. I know you’re a cleric, but geez...”
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Sam and his goons approaching from behind. My expression immediately turned ugly.
Turning around, I stuffed my hands in my pockets.
“Nobody asked you, shithead.”
Realizing I was talking to him, Sam reared his head back, his face surprised. Glancing at his two friends and seeing them just as shocked, he pointed at his chest.
“You talking to me?”
Seeing him act confused, my temper flared.
“I’m looking right at you, dumbass. Who else could I be talking to?”
Glowering fiercely at him, I took a step closer. While my actions might seem suicidal – given I was a ten-year-old and he a full-grown adult – I had a few tricks up my sleeve. Literally.
Sam’s face scrunched into a ball.
“Who the fuck does this kid think he is? Did he actually take that ‘your highness’ stuff seriously?”
Glancing from Erik to his friends, he tried for a joking tone, but it was impossible to miss his suppressed rage.
I angrily kicked a mound of dirt, flinging soil and gravel at the three stooges’ legs.
“You don’t like being called ‘dumbass’ or ‘shithead’, huh? Then do something about it, don’t just stand there, pointing fingers with your mouth open.”
At his side, Hans and the other guy – who I learned was called Tom – looked at me incredulously. A prepubescent kid challenging their ‘boss’ to a fistfight probably wasn’t the easiest thing to process.
There was a tense silence, emotions warring on Sam’s face. Undoubtedly, he wanted to kick the shit out of me, but it would get troublesome for him if our ‘fight’ drew the caravanners’ attention.
Erik resolved the standoff, coming forward and looking crossly at me.
“For the Light’s sake, Arne, stop causing trouble.”
I scoffed, holding my hands out, palms facing up.
“Oh, it seems ‘big brother’ Erik is back. What happened to the asshole from a minute ago?”
He growled, actually growled at me before throwing his hands up and storming off.
“Fine, be like this, but I’ll remember it next time you ask me something!”
When he’d gone, I made eye-contact with each of the three stooges in turn, my expression all but daring them to do something.
However, the two in the back had the look of spectators, either uninterested or unwilling to involve themselves.
Breathing slowly, Sam forcibly swallowed his anger before flashing his teeth at me.
“You think you’re something, don’t you? It’s fucking funny, actually.”
He sneered.
“A small-town whoreson having such a high opinion of himself—you’ll never make it in the city. Those people wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire, not if they knew who you were, where you came from…”
He chuckled sinisterly, turning around and following Erik.
When they were gone, I looked at my blanket and knapsack—all I had in this big, wide world. Suddenly, I regretted snapping at my brother.
Having spent my last fifteen coppers, I couldn’t even buy food. Who the hell would I borrow money from?
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Today came and went, as did tomorrow and the day after that. Soon, two weeks passed, our caravan’s march continuing ever onward.
As we drew closer to Stormwind, the winding dirt roads merged into wider highways. Nearing the capital, the breath of civilization strengthened, and I could almost imagine this wild land being the seat of a kingdom.
Growing up in a fringe, backwater village, I was used to drab colors and coarse clothes. It was quite a sight, seeing travelers in colorful linen and wool, and armed guards wearing gleaming mail and breastplates.
There was a general sense of liveliness and prosperity among the farmsteads, townships and villages. Erik and I acted like the country bumpkins we were, admiring the scenery with wide eyes.
Our relationship reached a sort-of equilibrium, getting along but not as well as before. The previous argument was fresh in both our minds and, though my brother acted casual, he was still set on finding out more about the silver-haired girl.
It wasn’t unusual for me to see him among the caravanners, fishing for information about the two strangers. Unfortunately for him, his search bore no fruit—not much was known about them, and even their impressions among the people seemed to be fading.
I couldn’t help feeling magic might be involved. Whatever the reason for such secrecy, I had no idea, nor could I find out.
Then, there was the matter of my depleted savings. Fortunately, I had some rations, but after two weeks, they were gone.
My life on Earth wasn’t smooth-sailing either, so I was no stranger to hunger. However, I was a growing child in need of nutrition, and with little-to-no bodyfat.
When the gnawing in my gut grew unbearable, I considered abandoning my pride and asking Erik for food. Yet, as I’ve said before, having nothing else to my name, I clung even more desperately to that little bit of self-respect.
Three-and-a-half weeks later, I was terribly thin. I had very little energy, and every step along our journey was a struggle. At that point, I’d eaten little more than roots and mushrooms the past week, foraged myself.
Erik wasn’t completely unfeeling, inquiring why I looked like a skeleton. However, I stubbornly insisted that I just wasn’t feeling well and had lost my appetite. He left it at that.
In the end, it was Jimmy, the crusty old mercenary I befriended, who noticed something was wrong. As was his style, he didn’t waste words, simply sharing his rations with me after having me promise to pay him back.
I remember desperately chomping on those dry biscuits and salted fish like it was the best thing I’d ever eaten. Feeling immensely grateful, it took every last bit of willpower not to burst into tears.
Four weeks later, our caravan finally arrived on Northshire’s outskirts, many old faces having left and new ones joining along the way.
It was only many years later that I remembered this parting, realizing I’d never repaid Jimmy’s kindness, and regretting that I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
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