Ravenai - Wanderer: Part Two

Wanderer: Part Two
The next day dawned bright and shiny, and Lython met it in his usual way, he cringed and curled up more tightly in his wrap. Eventually he rose, packed his blanket and ate the last of his jerky. After clearing his head, he remembered what he was here for. He stood and headed back to the town. The sights remained the same as Lython roamed the streets, and after he was sure he had been through the place at least twice with no ghost to show for it, his rumbling stomach got the best of him. There had been no vendors and the marketplace was as abandoned as the castle, so he headed for the lake.

Lython was an expert fisherman. He had to be. Life on the run made you adaptable or it made you dead, and he had been on the run for more years than he would like to remember. He reached the shore and took a brief moment to look out across the crystal blue waters. After a few deep breaths, his stomach reminded him of his priorities, so he sat down and pulled out part of the few possessions he had on him. He whistled an old and quite bawdy tune as he constructed his rod. He attached the twine and lure, and got ready to cast when the warm day suddenly chilled. Lython looked to the sky, thinking a storm had moved in, but it was clear. He pulled his cloak over his shoulders and put the hood on his head. After his favorite lure was tied, he threw the pole over his shoulder and heaved it toward the water.

“Aungh!”

Lython rubbed his right shoulder and looked around. Something had stopped his fishing pole in mid air. He looked up, hoping to see trees, but knew they wouldn’t be there. You don’t live on fish half your life without knowing a thing or two. He looked at his rod and it seemed fine. He checked the lure: still there. Nothing was wrong except for his shoulder. So he tried again.

“Umph!”

Different side, same result. He looked around and took a different approach. He walked up to the edge of the water and instead of casting, he tried to move the pole over the water. Again it was stopped. He moved it back towards the mountains, then inched it in the direction of the water. Before it reached the break it was stopped, by nothing. He looked at his rod, at everything near it, and there was nothing that could be causing this except…

Lython smirked and let go of the pole. It hovered in the air for a second, then fell to the ground. This made sense: The city had been prosperous from the lake, if the lake couldn’t be used, then the town and its king would die. This had to be the ghost, but why here, why now? If it were an ancient spirit, it would have manifested before now. If it were an evil spirit, it would have left long before. Evil spirits didn’t hang around after they had ruined a place. That could only mean…

He took a step in the direction of the water, then another. As he was about to put a foot in the lake when something threw him back. He landed with a thud, but had not been injured. Without standing, he crept back to the water line putting on his best show of being thirsty. Before he crossed it he put out his right hand to try and cup some water. It was slapped away.

He sat down and inched a foot toward the lake. Before his big toe could touch it, his foot was grabbed and yanked back. He stood and went to his pack. He grabbed a pouch and took a quick drink of water. “You see I have something to drink. Will you let me drink from the lake?” He knew the answer. “I have nothing to eat, yet you stop me from trying to fish.” He packed up everything he had. “I can get food from the mountains. Shall you stop me from going there, also?”

Lython headed to the base knowing he would not be stopped. That night he caught enough game to last a week, but he had never been denied water before.

© 2009 Ravenai