Tales & Treasure Chapter 37

Vatis - Cursed Characters

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Vatis knew he should have left Vicus the night before, immediately after the confrontation with Hobb. He could have saved that merchant's stock of apples. He could have saved a life. 

Leaving would have been the honorable thing to do, the prudent thing to do, but Hobb cost him Vidmar's story. The story that was going to make him known throughout Emre.  So, he chose to linger another night in spite of Hobb. Vatis knew the curse would escalate. He didn't care about the consequences. He got drunk, told a lazy tale about Mia-the-Maiden, and passed out under the bar. 

Now, Vatis looked through the darkness at the smoldering remains of The Barnyard Cat. Lightning struck the tavern's thatched roof on the abnormally warm autumn night. The flames gobbled up the wooden building like a gluttonous king. It seemed like a cruel punishment, but Vatis didn't believe in signs, destiny, or divine intervention. The gods had forgotten about him a long time ago. 

Only the fireplace survived, though it wasn't fully intact. A rafter fell as the building collapsed, knocking a few bricks loose. The tavern owner, Kat, sat in the ashes with her back against a charred half-wall. Almost every occupant made it out alive, except an elderly man named Tristan, whose room was unreachable through the flames. 

Acer, Hobb's local enemy, stood next to him, covered head to toe in ashes. Apparently, he had been quite the hero during the fire, saving Vatis and three others; he smiled because he knew that Hobb would be furious once he heard who had saved him. Vatis would have made a story about Acer if he could remember what happened, but the night was foggy from the end of his story until he was thrown out of the burning building. 

"I can't believe it. The Cat - it's gone," Acer said more to himself than Vatis. 

Vatis tapped the bulky farmer's shoulder. His finger left a trail of white, revealing the cotton tunic beneath the ashes. "Thank you."

Acer looked down at Vatis. A jagged scar was visible through the soot on his left cheek. It concaved like a dimple when he spoke. "Hmph," he said as ash blew out of his nose. "What was so important in that bag that you had to run back in for it?" 

My pack, he thought as panic punched him in the gut. Relief was instant when he saw the bag by his feet. Kneeling over, he opened the pocket with the letter. The edges were charred, and the remains of the wax seal had melted down in streaks, sealing the letter closed. He carefully ran a burnt finger through the opening, rebreaking the wax. The message, as well as the King's signature, were intact. "This," Vatis said briefly, flashing the letter to Acer before he tucked it back into its pouch. 

"I risked my life two fucking times for a letter," Acer yelled. Vatis could see a hint of red beaming beneath the soot on his cheeks.

Memories resurfaced above the smoke-filled haze that clouded his mind when he looked at the smoldering husk of a tavern. He did go back in after it. He could feel the flames on his face, the smoke in the air, and the burns on his hands; he charged in, thinking of nothing but his pack. It had everything: his secret thoughts, money, clothes, stories, and the invitation. He remembered the front door collapsing seconds after he ran into the building. Luckily, he knew where to find his pack. He liked to use it as a pillow when ale got the best of him. Visions of flames burned to the front of his memory. After he grabbed his pack, he recalled feeling a strange sense of euphoria amongst the fire and falling timbers. What was I thinking? He could hear Acer's voice over the cracking of wood beams, crawled to stay below the smoke, and found Acer in the back of the kitchen. Vatis gripped his pack tight, and the big man threw him out the window. Pain shot through his arm right before the world went black again. Here he was alive, with a raging headache, sore arm, burnt fingers, and all his possessions. He also had Hobb's rival to thank for it. I've had worse nights.

Vatis dug into his bag and pulled out a coin purse. He placed a rare 100 Kan piece in Acer's palm. "This bag is my livelihood. I have no home, no friends, nothing but an extra pair of clothes, some gold, and a few stories. Thank you for saving me; I plan to repay you tenfold someday."

Acer's mouth hung open as he examined the coin. Then, untrusting, he bit it; ashes fell from his mustache onto the coin. "I didn't know bards were paid so well." 

"We aren't, but I've had my share of wealthy audiences, some of whom were generous. Thank you again, Acer. I am in your debt." The big man looked at the coin, then at Vatis, then back at the coin, and stood wide-eyed and soot-covered as Vatis slung his pack over his shoulder and walked away.

 

Dawn approached. Vatis knew he needed to leave before Hobb heard about the fire. It was a miracle that he hadn't seen it, and he had no intention of confronting that wizard again. Nor did he want to answer any questions when the guards made their rounds. If only I had a horse, he thought. Which morphed into, I could buy a horse, but no one would sell one at this hour, and half the city is in front of the remains of that sorry excuse of a tavern. Then, his thoughts darkened. Half the people are in the square. I could borrow a horse, though I've no plans to return to this damn town. Let's say it's for the greater good. These simple farmers wouldn't want me here another hour, let alone another night. Now, where can I find a horse?

The answer was easy – the stables. They had passed them on their way from Dartmore, and they were relatively unguarded as far as stables go. Kamet said as much when they walked by, "They are just asking for the horses to be stolen," he joked. To which Vidmar replied, "I find it assuring that these people trust each other enough to leave their stables unguarded. Also, we'd have an easy escape if things go south." He clenched his fist, thinking of his missed opportunity. I could try to find Vidmar. But he had no idea where he was headed next. The only course of action was to head to Barna for the King's tourney. He could decide what story to tell on the way. 

Two low-burning torches illuminated the barn. A black cat paced in front, waiting to get in. Vatis hated cats. He leered behind a stack of rancid-smelling barrels, looking for guards. None patrolled. The longer he waited, the more likely he would be caught. However, the fire seemed to have captured the attention of everyone near the town square. He advanced cautiously, moving heel to toe as Vidmar taught him. The cat stared at him but didn't move. Its big green eyes judged his unstealthy approach. 

"Get," he hissed. "Get out of here." But, again, the cat didn't move. Vatis kicked some dust; the damn cat twitched its scarred ears and licked the dust off its front paw. It rubbed against Vatis's shins, arching its back as he slid the heavy door open. The smell of hay and horse shit was unbearable. The last two months in Vicus had been sweltering, doing this barn no favors. Flies as big as his thumbnail buzzed in the stalls, mating, biting, and doing whatever it was that flies did in their limited time. Vatis tried to swat them away. One still managed to bite him on the forearm. 

"I need to get out of this damn town," he hissed, rubbing the bite.

Vatis didn't know much about horses; however, he knew the four he found in the stable were no palfreys. They looked closer to pack horses. No wonder they keep them unguarded. They might as well be donkeys, he thought. The tall gray stallion near the exit was the only horse that showed any signs of life. His head bobbed up and down as he neighed. Vatis approached cautiously. Nevertheless, he seemed friendly, friendly enough to ride at least. Luckily, the tack was in the stall with the horse. Unluckily, Vatis had no idea how to fit them to the horse. It seemed simple enough: blanket, saddle, stirrups, bridle, bit, reins. How hard could it be? 

It turned out to be quite tricky. Almost an hour passed, during which Vatis had another run-in with the cat and a moment of panic when he thought he heard footsteps outside the barn, but it was only a horse thrashing about as the pesky flies attacked. Finally, he fit the tack to the horse, reopened the barn door, and tried to make the horse move. It wouldn't. He kicked his heels into the animal's ribs. Nothing. The horse looked backward, slightly annoyed, then dug its hooves into the ground.

"Come on," Vatis said, whipping the reins. The horse shook its black mane; dirt and flies sprang into the air. "Please go." His frustration with the horse was reaching its apex. He could have been miles away by now if he had walked. It took all the patience he had left, but he urged the horse forward with a slight tug on the reins and a gentle kick with his heels. It started walking. "Good boy," he said, scratching the horse behind the ears. After a few minutes of maneuvering, they were out of the barn. Orange light began to appear over the eastern horizon. Dawn. He needed to move. The stable connected directly to the road north. Vatis tried to appear casual as the horse cantered out of town. He looked back once. Smoke rose from the ashes of the tavern. No one stopped him.

---

It was still dark when Vatis woke. He had made good time throughout the day. The old mare wouldn't win any races, but it kept a consistent pace. He needed to find somewhere to practice a new story. Hobb cost me everything, Vatis thought. What would Kandrian Ambita want to hear? Maybe I could tell his story; a little flattery goes a long way with kings, but I'm confident that's been done before. He needs something new. A few hours before dusk, exhaustion overcame him. He thought about pulling off the road and making a fire, but he needed to put distance between himself and Hobb. So, he trusted the horse and slept in the saddle. He didn't know how far he had ridden, only that it was night, and they were still on the road. Hopefully, traveling north. 

A short time later, soon after saddle sores emerged on Vatis's legs, lights flickered in the distance. A village? He wriggled in the saddle, trying to find a comfortable position. The golden lights glowed brighter the closer he came. The full moon illuminated the tops of straw-thatched roofs. A young, lantern-wielding man met him on the road. 

"What brings you to Flathill at this hour?" he said, shining the light on Vatis but keeping his other hand close to the ax strapped to the horse's side. 

Without thinking, his rehearsed answer escaped his lips, "I'm but a simple bard seeking an audience and shelter." 

"It's far too late for an audience. But, as far as shelter goes, I can offer you and your horse a stall in the barn, though dawn is only a few hours away." 

Vatis faked excitement. "Oh, we would be most grateful, wouldn't we, Kamet." The horse didn't respond. 

"That's a strange name for a horse," the man said, relaxing his tense posture.

"True, it's more fitting of a donkey," Vatis smiled, holding back laughter. He especially enjoyed incorporating small personal jests into his stories, specifically for himself; watching an audience try to figure out a joke was more satisfying than when a room erupted with laughter. The young man looked hilariously confused. 

"The barn is down the road. Follow me."

---

Vatis awoke to shouts from somewhere outside the barn. He ran his fingers through his unusually long hair; pieces of straw fell alongside dirt and dandruff. Gods, I need to find a barber before I perform in front of the King, he thought, cracking his neck. The commotion continued. What in Emre is going on? Kamet, the horse, munched on hay, then nonchalantly relieved his bowels inches away from Vatis's feet. "That's how you treat me after I helped you escape that sorry excuse of a town." The horse neighed, swishing its tail around. Vatis scrambled away from the awful-smelling animal.

He hadn't decided which character he would play in Flathill. Would he be Vatis-of-the-Road? Would he try something new? Would one of his old characters surface in his hour of need? He'd been stuck in Vatis-of-the-Road for so long that it felt odd to abandon him. He tried singing, humming, and whistling, but none of his musical characters felt like making an appearance. It was tough to shake his somber mood. His thoughts always returned to his missed opportunity with Vidmar. I'll never find a story with that much potential again. His thoughts darkened until sunlight attacked his eyes when he stepped out of the barn. Vatis tried to squint the stars away, but it only made him sneeze, which in turn caused his sore back to spasm. The ridiculous attack ended with him on his back, rolling and sneezing like a capsized tortoise with allergies. 

Gentle hands helped him to his feet. "Are you alright?" a kind, feminine voice asked. Vatis blinked as a stunning red-haired woman came into focus. Her gentle, fawn-like eyes kindly examined him through cascading bangs. 

Oddly, Vatis couldn't think of a response. He just nodded and tried to rub his back until a cramp tore into his shoulder. He ground his teeth to keep himself from screaming. Finally, he managed a short, hissed thank you. She smiled and then walked toward a group gathered in the village. Vatis rubbed his eyes. The woman's backside was almost as pleasant to look at as her front; her hips swayed underneath a flowing yellow skirt. Vatis unconsciously followed the woman, partly because he wanted to see her rosy, freckled face again, partly to see what the commotion was, and partly because his charismatic yet troublesome character of Dainius emerged. Dainius hadn't appeared in years; the fraternizing character was a staple in his twenties, but he had long been lost in the dusty cobwebs of Vatis's mind as he pursued more intellectual goals. His anxiety, exhaustion, and temptations were playing strange games with his mind. 

He inhaled deeply, tapping the woman on the shoulder. "What's going on?" He said in a smooth, baritone voice. 

 She smiled as she turned around. Her white teeth gleamed behind thin pink lips. "A miracle. The well is full." He watched her tongue glide invitingly along her bottom lip.

Vatis acted surprised. "Impossible. Thank the gods."

The woman raised onto her toes to see over the crowd gathered in front of the stone well. Her skirt lifted, revealing slender calves. She dropped down. "It's been so long since the gods showed us any favor." She hugged Vatis in excitement. Vatis returned her enthusiasm but backed away to conceal parts of himself that were too excited. It had been too long since he'd hugged a woman. "The gods have finally answered our prayers," she said, bouncing up and down. Vatis strained himself to focus on her eyes and not the parts of her that were bouncing pleasingly. "It's been dry for nearly two years. We've had to haul barrels to the river, fill them, and bring them back. I can't believe it - a miracle." 

"Unbelievable," Vatis whispered in feigned astonishment. The truth was that this wasn't the first well his curse had refilled. Years ago, shortly after realizing his condition, in a small village near Wayland, a well, much like this one, had incredibly replenished itself. 

"I'm sorry. I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Jana," she said, flashing a bright smile punctuated by dimples on her rosy cheeks. 

Vatis bowed. "I'm Dainius, a traveling bard who just happened to use your lovely barn as an inn last night." 

Jana grasped Vatis's forearm. His palms began to sweat. "A bard. Truly. Oh, you must entertain us tonight." 

"I should leave," Vatis said, genuinely disappointed. "I have an appointment to keep in Barna." However, her large emerald eyes begged him to stay along with a particular, unused part of his body. 

"Surely, one night won't delay you," she said. Her fingers gently traced their way up his forearm to his shoulder. 

Vatis had forgotten how influential his miracles could be after hiking through forests, mountains, and dark alleys for almost a year, unable to witness the magic at work. He knew he would stay, but he didn't want to sleep in the barn again. "I don't know if my back can handle another night in the barn."

Jana smirked. "There's room in my cottage, a comfortable straw mattress with cotton sheets. It's been so long since a bard performed in Flathill. Please stay."

Vatis choked back his guilt, surrendering to more pressing urges. "One night."

"Oh, wonderful," Jana said, wrapping Vatis in another hug. This time, he did not back away. Her eyes glanced downward slightly as she bit her bottom lip. She turned and pulled him into the crowd. "Everyone, this is Dainius, a bard. He will perform for us tonight." The crowd cheered as Vatis tried to adjust his trousers. 

---

An overly enthusiastic rooster welcomed the new day. Vatis stretched his aching limbs as quietly as possible in Jana's creaky bed. She stirred, exposing her bare shoulder and neck resting on her soft strawberry hair; purple-green marks trailed from her collarbone to the bottom of her ear. I could stay another night, he thought, looking at Jana. I could stay here forever. His thoughts trailed off as Jana opened her eyes. "Good morning," she said, smiling through squinted eyes. 

Vatis kissed her. "Good morning, my sweet. How did you sleep?" 

"I've never slept better," Jana said, pulling Vatis closer. 

As he leaned in for another kiss, a scream came from somewhere in the town square. "What was that?" Jana said. Her eyes widened as she tried to look out her small window. 

"Probably just the children playing," Vatis said, pulling her back to him. 

Jana resisted. "They never play like that." The breeze brought another scream through the window, followed by a wailing, sorrowful moan like thunder after lightning. Jana rolled over Vatis, threw on a gray cotton dress, slipped into her shoes, and bolted out the door before Vatis could so much as button his tunic. That's my cue, he thought, gathering his things. 

A few moments later, he found Jana and three other townsfolk gathered at the fence surrounding the cabbage field. Jana was rubbing the back of an old man whose name Vatis could not remember. Jealousy sprouted in his throat. "What happened?" he asked Jana, gently touching her shoulder. Then he noticed. The entire field of cabbage had wilted. The violet heads were just days away from picking when he toured Flathill yesterday; now, they were brown and wilted. 

Jana stepped away from Vatis to comfort the simple farmer who'd lost a season's worth of cabbage. "How did this happen? What cruel god made this jest?"

"I've heard the black pod sucker bug can destroy acres of crop in no time," Vatis said, pretending to offer some insight. He knew who was responsible. It wasn't the rare bugs. It was him and whichever god left his curse on the world. 

The farmer considered this for a moment, rubbing his nose with his palm. Then, unsatisfied, he bent over to examine his crops. "That's true, but there's no sign of pod suckers, and they prefer tomatoes or cotton. No, this is the work of the gods. The eternal darkness is coming. This is a sign," he said, ripping open the brown husk of a dead cabbage plant. No bugs fell out. 

Jana helped the farmer to his feet. "Why would the gods refill our well one day and then destroy our crops the next?" 

"The gods are cruel and care little for the lives of peasants," the farmer said. 

Vatis tried to comfort Jana, but she brushed him away in favor of the feeble farmer. His jealousy grew. 

"The gods are trying to send us a message. Brother Coen could help, "Jana said, pointing to the narrow building with a decaying steeple atop its roof. 

The farmer snorted.

Vatis used the distracted bantering to drift back toward the barn. I'll miss you, Jana, Vatis thought. She deserved better than Flathill; she deserved better than a farmer. Who knew what would happen if he stayed longer – the curse usually brought progressively worse side effects the longer he stayed in one place. The longest he'd ever tested it was three days, and by the end of the third day, nearly a quarter of the people of Wayland were dead or dying. He watched the group saunter toward the chapel. No one knew he left. No one cared, not even Jana. Even his happiest nights ended with him alone on the road, exhausted.