Wisher Beware

Book 1: CAVEAT VOLTOR

We all wish for things. Some desire improvement, others yearn for power and wealth, and many indulge in carnal fantasies. It can be seen as a harmless and in some cases quite useful activity, enjoyed in moderation.

But one must beware. Wishes have a cost many do not know.

Sometimes wishes come true, one way or another.

A lone dry branch cracked under my foot and I froze, listening in quietly. The Forest was all around me, full of noises. With shaking breath I kept carrying a yoke with two empty jars on my shoulders. The woollen tunic was damp from the recent rain, but that is not why I felt the colds. My Ma and Unca always told me that Forest wasn’t for us. For the Things lived in Forests. Hungry Things. They were not like masters and pleading for your life will help you none. Nuh uh. I hated this feeling of emptiness inside my gut, making me look behind my back all the time, but it’s all I had.

Only wers could go here alone. They were strong and quick for they were blessed by Gods. Some were even stronger and looked different. Not like us. They had tails and fur, claws and paws. And then there were Wermajes. They were strong, hairy, and could throw fire at you. Or whisper to their swords and shields and fill them with magick to strike at anyone they want. They said they are descendants of Gods, but I think they are just a bunch of old hags, licking each other’s cunts to feel even more important.

One of the wers was supposed to guard me. Not from the Things, but so I wouldn’t run away. The shrivelled dick walked me to the water once, kicking me every time he thought I was too slow. Then he figured I was too cheap to guard, too weak to escape, and his food too tasty to be left alone. Told me to stick to the path and hurry up, and not to have ‘any funny thoughts’. Said he didn't want to explain to the merchant why a yoke was sticking out of his merchandise ass while braying like one. That limp noodle thought himself a funny man.

Feeling a little bit better, I started looking for an easy way downhill. Whatever path we took before was nowhere to be seen with scratchy bushes everywhere I went. I wasn’t stupid and, after the previous trip, knew that I will be walking back with two heavy jars of water. Uphill. Without anyone kicking but also without anyone close to scare the nasties so I had to walk carefully.

After some walking around I found a shallow slope with barely any trees around. The spot was open and out of place, like some God decided to plough this forest and got lazy a few breaths after. Good spot found, I started to go down slowly, making sure that the wet ground won’t slide under me. The ground was risky even here, there were spots all over the place, where the fresh ground was seen, whatever that grew on it before falling down under its own weight. Especially around that cave at the end of the ravine. With green light shining from within. Tiny and round.

Like a hungry eye of the Thing.

Jars rattled on the ground as I sprinted to escape. My feet slipped in the mud and I fell face-first into shit-brown sludge, my mouth frozen in a silent scream.

Death tasted like dirt.

With a low whine escaping my throat, I tried to crawl, trying to get as much distance from the Beast, but my legs didn’t listen to me anymore. Dread spread across my body and, with legs already taken, rolled over my chest like a heavy boulder choking my breath. Unable to breathe and move I curled up and squeezed my jaw and eyes as hard as I could. The sounds my heart and my throat made were loud enough that I wouldn’t be able to hear anything. At least until Its teeth would find my flesh. Hopefully, it would be quick.

Time crawled with my heartbeat.

And then it crawled some more. And more. Soon my chest could breathe again and I opened my eyes just a bit. The Forest was loud. There was no maw ready to clamp down on my side. Jars and the yoke lying an arm away from me splashed with dirt. I lifted my head higher and glanced at the cave, my hands shaking. The cave was still dark and the eye was still glowing green within. Alone. Not moving. Scrambling I reached for the yoke, Thing or not I would be as good as dead if I return without it. I kept the cave well within my eyes, but the glow didn't move one bit. As if It refused to see me as food. Or wasn’t an eye at all.

Filled with courage, either from moving legs or the long yoke in my hands, I decided to chance it.

“Aeeeeeugh!” My threatening howl didn’t budge the glow either. Unhooking the jars I grabbed the yoke like a spear and slowly moved forward. As I approached the cave it became easier to see, especially with the glow shining from within. It wasn’t even a normal cave either, with walls made out of iron. Definitely not a Forest cave, not even our cave. It was probably a wer armour! Only they could be rich enough to afford something like this and big enough to wear something this huge. Maybe a giant wer. I remembered one of the slaves at the farm was telling me he saw an army passing by with armour even on horses. What an idiot, no one would spend so much iron on an animal.

My eyes glanced at the bones in the corner and then down at the floor. Whoever it was he died long ago from a slingshot into the eye and a pick to the forehead. The floor was clean, very clean. No one was here for a long time. I finally breathed out, licking dry lips, put the yoke aside and set my gaze fully at the magickal thing.

A fruit, no, the Fruit was cradled in some sort of metal bowl with spider legs, that raised it like an offering. It was glowing. A grin split my face and my hands started to shake. Everyone knew that magickal Things have glowing eyes. That means magickal trees make magickal Fruits! And this Fruit was more than just magickal it shone like a torch with a colour of spring grass. I could easily tell this fruit was full of health by the colour alone! Not wasting a single breath I snatched it and sank my teeth into it.

The juice burst into my mouth. It was the tastiest thing I have ever tasted.

I greedily sucked at it so that not a single drop would spill. The magick was in the taste as well, biting on my tongue and spreading deep inside my body. Even though I tried eating it with as much care as possible to stop any more accidents, the Fruit was gone in an instant. But the feeling of power remained. I closed my eyes to feel it better spreading from my core to the rest of my body. It spread to my arms and legs and from there into my back. As it was moving up to the head I’ve felt it. The knowledge poured into my body. My legs, my arms, my fingers they all knew something my head did not. Subtle motions, sharp like a warrior’s sword. Reactions to threats unknown. I smiled at that, for I’ve felt the magick travelling into my head, cradling it, gently brushing against my senses. Soon the full knowledge of this magick will be within my grasp.

It was probably healing magicks, or these that shape the body or the earth. Or even flight. I always wondered how the birds felt, to be able to go anywhere you wanted.

Whatever it was, it was powerful.

My hands moved. Fingers performing their own dance. To bring forth the unseen.

The unheard.

With my hands clutching tightly I started to laugh. My laugh was unbound, desperate, demented. “BARREN SON OF A WHORE!” My foot smashed into the pilot’s skull breaking it to pieces, ocular implant rolling somewhere.

Tears came to my eyes, “I was supposed to get it!”

To become one of them. To wield the powers unbound.

“And what did I get? Ability to play music? To be a performer? A slave work to begin with! What is a Gee-Tar anyway?” I yelled at the sky through the opening.

The knowledge was… weird. Full of holes like a beggar’s garb. Full of words, sounds, and meanings, but completely lacking any visual parts. Like a memory of a blind person. I knew the ‘guitar’, I could play it well. If someone would show me an instrument I would tell if it's a ‘guitar’ or not. But without it…

“What kind of drunk imbecile ties a bucket to a lyre and calls it an instrument!” My fist hit the wall.

I could even play another more ‘exotic’ instrument. My head was full of lines, triangles, and squiggles that hurt to think about, but somewhere there was a board you could hang keys on and they would chime a melody. Truly a method of torture for performers and listeners alike.

A dark thought ran through my mind. There were other, similar, professions that provided pleasure to their clients…

“What other skills did I get? Let me guess - how to be a prostitute? Huh? Sucking off dicks and cunts for my master?” I listened to myself, “FUCK!”

So much magic wasted for something so stupid. If I knew what it was, it would be sold on the bazaar instead and would pay not only for my freedom but for my family and a thousand slaves to do all my work until I died!

My stomach gurgled. “Fucking great!”

Fairy tale time’s over, I grabbed the yoke and stormed out of there. Quickly hooking back the jars I made my way to the river below. I had to hurry as the sun was getting low and I had no idea how many trips the merchant would demand from me. Extra work was the best outcome, he might get annoyed at my lateness and that would mean I would get the extra work and thirty lashes at least. The old dog was skilled, his lashes would sting like a whore unpaid but leave no lasting marks on the back.

With jars heavy from water, I trekked back trying to spot the road up ahead. The house roads of the Emanai Manorat were made well. They were smooth, flat, and straight. They would cut through forests like this one without any change of direction. Too bad they did the same for hills as well, helping to push carts up the hill nearly broke me on the first days of the travel.

Soon I’ve managed to get up to a more flat area. Lazy fuck was napping at the tree with no care to the world. But when I came closer, steps heavy from the extra weight on my shoulders, he stirred awake. He got up and stretched without hurry. Good. That meant my detour went unnoticed.

“What took you so long, boy?”

“Fell.” I’ve kept my answer short. With my thoughts still in turmoil, I didn’t want to snap at the guard and get myself brained for it.

His yellow feline eyes glanced on my dirt-stained tunic and then on to the jars looking for cracks, while I was trying to figure out what ‘feline’ meant. “Well stop lazing about then, get moving!”

I had to travel one more time to bring enough water. He chose the path this time and followed me along grumbling about my slowness. The path was shorter but more treacherous than the clearing so I was drenched in sweat by the end of it. I’ve kept my silence about what happened. I wanted neither to return there myself nor share it with the hypocrite.

By the time I finished, it was late. Merchant and the rest of the guards already ate, and whatever leftovers they had were long consumed by others. Not that I had any chance of getting some myself, if I was around, but the smells were nice. Especially when they roasted that salted meat with greens.

Wiping off the drool, I hurried up to grab my ration and then glanced at the area where other slaves were preparing to sleep.

We were split into three groups as usual. The wers were chained down for the night. They cost more and had the strength and speed to escape. While we were simply left alone. I glanced at the guards; any laziness aside, they knew what they were doing. Running away would be extremely foolish, not only I didn’t have anywhere to run to, nor would I be able to run far enough. And justice was always swift.

I frowned, why was I even thinking of running away now of all times? Many of us were actually looking forward to the city. The life of a city slave, even the one working for the city itself was leagues better than on the farm. Or, gods protect, in the mines. Apart from guaranteed food, many had breaks and some could even earn a bit of money on the side and eventually buy their freedom.

Or so my uncle said to me before I left.

Hopeful dreaming aside, I knew that my future well-being would solely depend on the character of my future master. But that is not something that I could change, so it was pointless to think about it anyway. I looked at the barley bread in my hand. An exquisite form of nutrition, well seasoned with ash and soot, and with the consistency of a brick. Smiling bitterly I remembered the taste of the magic fruit. It was full of opposite flavours sweet but sour, fresh but somehow hot as well. Perhaps I would be able to make my life better with that ‘guitar’.

Speaking about performers, I glanced at the cart. There was the third group. Just a few - pickings at the farms were slim. Both girls and boys had much better, unblemished skin. Girls were a little older and boys younger; some looked scared, others resigned, but all looked healthy. Their fate was obvious and unenviable. I shuddered. I could have been there as well due to my age and health; fortunately, I was ‘too scrawny’ and ‘unsightly’ according to the merchant. It was the best thing he had done for me.

My stomach gurgled again. Swearing to myself I ate the bread. Somehow the taste was the same and yet worse than all the other times I had to eat it during the trip. The freshwater made the process a bit more bearable. If I get runs from that fruit I would walk through that damn forest at night and shit in that spider bowl.

After washing down the last pieces, I hurried to join others. Most of the faces were unfamiliar to me, merchant visited multiple farms, but I quickly found an open spot near some that I recognized. Not wasting any time, I quickly snuggled in between the bodies. No one said a thing. It had become our silent nightly ritual by now. The most imminent concern of every slave was food and rest. And warmth, here in the open.

Surrounded by warm bodies, lying on the soft grass, and tired from daily tolls I quickly fell asleep.

I had a pleasant dream. It was nice and soft, full of stars and me flying. Full of joys: discovery, confidence, and safety. It was also absolutely nonsensical, thus my awakening in the chilly morning wasn't filled with the feeling of a loss such dreams usually brought. Just a small memory of contentment and a spark of promise for the future. Snickering to myself about fleshy beetles digging wormy holes...wormholes so they could hop from star to star, I got up. My body complained quite insistently and not from the lack of warmth, most of it was gone already. Apparently, the empty spot I’ve taken yesterday was empty for a reason: my bones and muscles ached from every move.

The caravan was slowly waking up, but I still had some time to myself. I glanced around doing some stretches to dull the pain and warm myself up. An idea came up to me yesterday and, before we would leave, I wanted to see it through.

Unfortunately, I needed a tool for that. My rested mind was full of problems and solutions; a slave randomly trying to grab a knife or even an axe would raise an alarm. Even something like a shovel would attract unwelcome attention. But an iron stake should work, even if a little blunt for what I needed. There are always some lying around to anchor the chains or the cages.

Grabbing one from the cart I tried to be as quiet as possible not to wake up the slaves sleeping on it. It was still awkward to be around them: what do you say to someone who has little hope when you are so full of it? What do you say to a broken man while you stand solidly on your own feet? It is so much easier not to have a conversation in the first place. I glanced at the closest sleeper, a lithe girl with blond hair long enough to hide her face from view, sighed inwardly and turned away.

Looking around for the most appropriate tree, I pinched the edge of the stake and run my fingers down the blade. Appropriate target found I hacked at the trunk; stake went in fast, easily chipping the bark off. Cringing at my sloppy work, I dialled down my efforts and quickly peeled off a vertical strip. No point killing the tree in the process. My work done, I’ve stepped away with my mood rising back up again. Landmark. A spot this big won’t grow over and leave a scar, easily visible from the road.

A promise to come back.