Joklo plunked a string on his lute as he walked. The way the strange bard wormed into our group was annoying at the time, but hadn’t felt calculated. But now I wondered. Could it be a coincidence that we had not just one, but two unidentified beings close to us. If they were working together with ill intent, I couldn’t figure out what their motivation was. We had very little to steal. If he wanted to turn us in, he’d be better off doing so in town, not joining us in this dangerous forest. Regardless of their possible motivation, I had to consider they might have sinister plans for us.
Kiri staggered in front of me, no longer possessing the extra energy to scout ahead as she had the night before. She appeared to be half asleep as she ambled forward. Her steps were clumsy, with her foot often dragging instead of lifting entirely off the ground. When not reaching her arms out to keep her balance, she massaged her temples. Her shoulders sagged and her back arched, as if the ground itself pulled her toward it.
When she mentioned not liking what the human blood did to her, I thought she had meant the way it put her on edge, causing her to be more active than normal. Seeing her like this, I realized this must be what she dreaded most about using the blood.
Joklo moved beside me, marching with a smile on his face and both hands on his lute. Like he’s done since I met him, he plucked a string every so often. I kept his pace, thinking about the best way to get answers from him. Direct questioning might lead him to clam up. Wanting to get answers about his origins, I’d need to draw answers out during regular conversation.
“Back at the tavern, when you sang your song to distract the patrons, did you use some kind of magic?” I asked.
“Joklo wants people to like his music. He doesn’t’ want to force them to be compelled by it. To be the most famous bard in all of the realms, Joklo needs them to like it even after he stops playing.” He sighed. “Sometimes Joklo thinks he wants too much for them to like it, making the magic leak into the tune even when Joklo doesn’t want it to.”
My brain felt like Kiri looked. Joklo had admitted to having some sort of magic infused with his music, which would explain his ability to captivate an audience. But did he not know when he was using it? As if realizing I was thinking about his music, Joklo began to strum and sing.
The bandits marched through the woods very long
Giving me time to come up with this song
They moved really slow, but look really strong
Avian glared at him for a moment, but he ignored her and kept playing.
To the eyes, Kiri, sure is a delight
Until realizing she’s a creature of the night
Her blood-drinking bite causes such fright
Kiri spun around, marched to Joklo, and punched him in the face.
Joklo dropped his lute as both of his hands flung to his nose. The lute swung at his waist, suspended by a strap that was slung over his shoulder. “Why do you hurt Joklo?”
“I’m not a creature, nor do I bite people.” Fire burned in her wide eyes. For the first time since waking, she didn’t look like she was about to keel over.
“Joklo didn’t mean to offend.” He grabbed his lute and plucked a chord. “Joklo thinks Kiri is a very brave bandit.”
“I’m not a bandit.” She pointed at us. “None of us are bandits.” She threw her hands up and stormed off, catching up to Avian.
“Perhaps give the songs a rest until she’s feeling better,” I whispered.
Joklo nodded, rubbing his nose before returning to his lute to pluck a string.
Ahead of me, Kiri walked next to Avian. The creature-of-the-night moniker seemed to have gotten under her skin even more than calling her a harlot. While I’ve heard a song or two about those that drink human blood, we had little lore claiming the same about yaksha. Perhaps the elves didn’t favor our blood. Then again, Layla had asked her if she knew what her blood would do to her. I wondered at the time if that was a threat, but could it be that different blood caused a different reaction, similar to the way a Wigon will tweak magic by using different ingredients. I’d wait until tempers were stable before asking anyone the question.
I picked up my pace, moving to the other side of Avian. “Will we reach the hunting cabin this night?”
She shook her head. “We won’t walk until dark either. There is a spot near a large stream where I often camp. The layout is perfect for setting up a defense with a small crew.”
I glanced behind us, making sure Joklo wasn’t near. He and Sani marched at a slightly slower pace as they spoke with each other. Their words weren’t audible at such a distance, making me certain we could talk without him hearing. “What do you think of Joklo?”
“He’s an ass,” Kiri said. “An irritating, annoying ass.”
Avian snickered. “That he is.” Her face became stern. “But I sense he’s more dangerous than we realize.”
Her words suggested nothing I hadn’t considered. When he talked of his father drowning men so he could rob them, I realized he might not be as harmless as I originally thought. But I also believed he was serious when he had said he didn’t want to do as his father did. Any uncertainty I had dissolved when I saw the scared expression on his face when he said his father would find him. “How do we figure out what he is?”
“You could ask him,” Avian said. She thought for a moment, then added, “Or wait until you speak with Layla again. She knows much more about the realms than I do.”
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We reached the stream before Patra neared the horizon. Filis was directly overhead, its red light beating down on us. Sani made a fire in the existing fire pit, which was close to the stream.
I realized why Avian thought this area would be easier to defend. Two sides were blocked off by large stone formations and the stream blocked a third. While someone or something could cross the stream to attack, it was deep enough to make them swim across.
I set up my tent close to the rock formation, keeping as far away from the stream while remaining close to the fire. I’d need the extra warmth, and didn’t want an icy breeze from the stream to make it difficult to heat my open tent.
Joklo sat off to the side by himself, strumming lightly and muttering words too low for us to hear. Kiri perched on a log near the fire. Her head nodded a few times as her eyelids grew droopy.
Sani finished with the fire, then said he would hunt. Our food supplies were already dwindling, and we all could use something fresh. Avian agreed to go with him.
I sat next to Kiri. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.” She lowered her voice. “And perhaps going a little crazy.”
Her words caught me by surprise. I realized using the blood made her feel ill, but not that it messed with her mental state. “How so?”
She glanced around, as if making sure nobody was listening. “These images keep flashing into my mind.” She bit her lip. “Not like they do when I’m thinking. Instead, they feel like I didn’t put them there.” She shook her head. “I know this doesn’t make any sense.”
“Do you think it’s a side effect of the blood?”
She made a puking face. “Don’t remind me. Just thinking about the taste...” She shuddered. “I drank it a few times in the past, this wasn’t part of the hangover.”
“What are the images?”
“Some of us.” She shrugged. “Like I’m looking at a painting of the group walking.” She hesitated, “Some of the sasquatches Sani talked about.”
“You’re seeing the one you freed? The one we think is following us? That doesn’t seem so unusual.”
“Not that one. I’m seeing two others. They are bigger and have a lot more mass.” She raised her eyebrows. “As if the one we saw was younger.”
“You think sasquatch children are that big?” I asked.
She shook her head. “That’s a good point.”
“How much smaller?” Joklo asked.
Both Kiri and I flinched. I almost fell off the log. “Dammit, Joklo. Don’t sneak up on us like that.” I scratched my head, wondering how he got over here without us seeing him.
“Joklo knows of the sasquatch Sani speaks of.” He grinned. “They go by many names. Ts’emekwe, Skookum, Oh-mah, Lofa, Tsul ‘Kalu...” He plucked a string. “Many others. Too many to name.” He glanced at Kiri. “Joklo doesn’t want to make you angry by talking too much.”
“What do you know of them?” Kiri asked.
He stepped back. “Joklo’s nose is still sore. Will you punch Joklo again?”
Kiri peered at her shoes. “I’m sorry. Hitting you was wrong. I’m just not myself.”
“Joklo knows the feeling. Sometimes Joklo isn’t himself.” He giggled. “Joklo doesn’t like not being himself.”
“What about the sasquatch? How big are they?”
He stood up, reached high, and put his hand out. Signifying how tall the creature would be.
“That is about the height,” Kiri said.
Then Joklo moved his hands apart, showing the width. “From shoulder to shoulder.”
“The one we freed was much thinner than that,” Kiri said.
“Maybe not an adult, but not a child,” Joklo said.
“Like a yaksha of fifteen winters,” I suggested.
“Joklo thinks the sasquatch you saw in your vision might have been his parents.”
“That makes no sense,” Kiri said.
“It makes some.” I stood and paced as I spoke. “Sani said they killed two, but one got away. Perhaps the parents fought hard to protect their son, and allow him to escape.”
“That’s not the part that doesn’t make sense.” Kiri threw her arms up. “I wasn’t there when they fought, nor did I know he was a child. Why would I see a vision of his parents?”
“Interesting.” He plucked a sting. “After saving him, you created a bond Joklo thinks.”
“Explain,” I said.
“The sasquatch howl and growl, but not to speak. Instead, they speak to each other through thoughts.. But only when they form a bond.”
“How do you know all this?” Kiri asked.
“Joklo is much older than he looks.” His grin looked almost sinister. “And has seen much more than many would believe.”
Sani and Avian returned to the camp, each carrying a rabbit. As they cleaned them, Kiri and I sat in silence, thinking about what Joklo said. He returned to the outskirts of our camp, plucking his instrument.
“I need to sleep,” Kiri said. “I just can’t think anymore. My mind is broken.”
Avian peered up at the sky. Patra had set, and Filus neared the horizon, enveloping us in its warm red light. “Perhaps we should all get some rest.”
“Just stop it,” Kiri yelled.
Her voice roused me from my slumber. I stretched before climbing out of my tent.
“Joklo plays quietly like you asked.” The bard held his lute behind him, still plucking a string periodically. If he took another step back, he would be in the stream.
“I can’t sleep, and I need to.” She closed her eyes. “Just for one night, stop playing.”
He shook his head. “Joklo can’t stop. He won’t. Don’t make Joklo stop.”
Avian sat up on her makeshift bed and yawned. “What is the meaning of this?”
Sani answered as he approached Kiri and Joklo. “He keeps making noise.”
“Joklo,” I asked, “can you stop playing long enough for her to fall asleep?”
His face trembled. “Joklo must play to keep his father away.”
Sani grabbed him by the arm, holding him still.
Kiri circled him. “Did your father go through the portal too?”
“Joklo came through alone. My father wanted to stay.”
Kiri grabbed his lute and yanked it out of his hands.
“Don’t do that,” I said. “We shouldn’t fight among ourselves.” I hustled to them, stopping a few steps away.
“This might be what he needs. Once he realizes his father isn’t coming, he’ll stop obsessing over playing that damn thing,” Avian said, also getting close to them.
Sani punched Joklo in the stomach, making him lose his grip on his instrument. Kiri tugged, ripping it from his hands.
“No,” Joklo pleaded. “Don’t take Joklo’s lute.”
“You’ll get it back in the morning,” Sani said.
Kiri struggled with the instrument, trying to get the strap around Joklo’s head. “This thing doesn’t budge.”
Sani grabbed the strap and followed it to Joklo’s neck. “It’s locked.”
“Give me.” Joklo dropped to his knees as he reached out for the lute. “Joklo needs to play.”
Kiri kept it out of his reach.
Joklo’s head hung as he began to sob. “He’s coming.” His arms trembled.
“Nobody is coming,” Sani said.
The brush at the entrance to our camp shook violently for a moment. Avian pulled two daggers from her waist. Sani let go of Joklo’s arm and took a step back. I drew my sword and got into a defensive stance.
Everyone except Joklo fell silent for a moment, standing with our backs to the stream.
Kiri stared into the woods, still holding the lute away from Joklo. “That isn’t your father.” But her voice cracked, showing her uncertainty.
Avian flicked her tongue, then opened her mouth to talk. Before she could, Joklo screamed.
The bard’s hands clenched as he leaned forward, still on his knees. He flickered, as if fading away for a moment and becoming something else. I rubbed my eyes, thinking I saw something in his place, but I didn’t process any of the details.
“Run!” Joklo pleaded. “Don’t fight him. He will drown you all.” He flickered again.
This time I made out a green figure. It was approximately the same size as Joklo. Another flicker. Longer this time. The creature's red eyes glared at me.
Joklo faded away completely. The moss-covered beast standing in his place roared as it threw its hands up. In a voice much deeper than Joklo’s, it said, “No you pay.”
Pain jolted through my face before I realized what had happened. Darkness. Then light again. The mossy creature had struck me in the nose.
Faster than I expected, it shoved Kiri to the ground, then head-butted Sani. He staggered back and dropped. I surged forward, but the best shoved me into the stream. A rush of water entered my nose before I could react.
I thrashed, getting back to the surface as Mossy dove into the water. His quick movements made it hard to follow him, like watching a tadpole in a murky puddle. While swimming, he zipped from one spot to the next, almost seeming to disappear and reappear, leaving a wake as he moved.
Then, he was gone. Avian and I locked eyes. She raised the ridges where her eyebrows should be. As the excitement faded away, I began to shiver. The night air was cold enough to slow my blood. Standing in the chilly water exacerbated the effect.
With chattering teeth, I said, “I need to get to the fire.”
Avian put her hand out, as if ordering me to wait. After scanning the entirety of the stream, she took a hesitant step, then another. She glanced back at me, signaling for me to follow. “We should hurry.” As I started to follow, she froze in place, staring at a ripple to our right. “Run!”
She made it a few more steps before dropping out of view with a splash.