The Errant Apprentice Book 2 Chapter 1

For Fear of Little Men

For Fear of Little Men

Elton,
I purchased these journals in a village not long after I arrived here. I miss you, man. I’ve decided to keep my own Chronicles here in the Everywhen for you. I don’t know that you’ll ever see these, but writing this gives me hope that you might in the future.
I guess if your Chronicles leading up to my departure could be considered book one, then this is book two. My travels in the Everywhen. I hope that some day after this is all over I can send these along with a gnome or an elf and have them delivered to you. I’m not a writer, Elton. I’m not even going to pretend these chronicles are going to be up to your standards. But I want to do my best to give you something. A parting gift. Something to remember me by. I can’t explain how much I wish I could hand deliver them to you myself, how much I wish you’d come with me because I don’t know that I’ll ever come back. This may be home now, for a lot of reasons.
I’m not alone here now, but I miss you. I miss the three of us traveling and trying to do something good for the world. I miss the quiet times. I miss the life I hadn’t even had a chance to build before it all went wrong.
I want you to know that I think about you often, my friend. Know that you’re loved, regardless of what you tell yourself. I’ve begun to realize that the things we tell ourselves, and the things we believe, are just ways to limit ourselves. We’re terrified of what we could be without those limits.
But without those limits, you ARE a good man, Elton Beasley. One of the best, and it has been an honor to know you.
Love,
T.

Terry Lingal, the Errant Apprentice, stepped out of a hole in the air into the magical realm known as the Everywhen. He glanced back for one last look at Elton and his home world, trying to give Elton a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t sure it worked. He would probably never know if it had. The gateway snapped shut and Terry was alone standing beneath a yellow sky. He had made his choice.

His purpose in life had been taken from him over the last few days. Until that morning he had been in training to become a knight for the Order of St. George the Dragon Slayer. He had taken the vows to join that Order as a child, scarcely knowing the truth behind the words he had spoken. Just that morning he had renounced them. He was going to be something else. Something new. But he’d also lost the reason he had renounced those vows. Delores Cody. His mage, his partner, and the woman he loved. She’d been taken from him and sent to this new world. He’d vowed to her that he would survive for her. He’d vowed he would always return to her. Terry kept his vows.

Behind where the portal had been was a massive valley, and through that valley a river snaked its way along, turning to pass the hills he found himself in. He thought he saw cleared land along that river but he couldn’t be sure from this distance. He turned to look at the mountain that had drawn his eye before entering the portal, and he did not like it one bit. For one thing, it was a single mountain on its own, not part of a range, and was surrounded by foothills on all sides. It was on one of these that Terry found himself. The mountain was covered in geometric shaped boulders. Cubes, spheres, cones, pyramids, and at least a dozen shapes Terry couldn’t name with his limited education. But the worst part of the mountain were the holes. The mountain was honeycombed with holes and a thick fog poured out of the lowest of them, filling the space between the foothills. It gave the entire landscape an otherworldly feel, which was appropriate now that he came to that.

The sight of it was what made him truly realize how much his life had just changed and how much he had just lost. He’d now lost his best friend, his lover, his future, and his home, all in the time it took to boil an egg. He sat down hard on the ground, dropping his saddle bags and his sword, and the tears came. Any anger at the forces that moved his life had fled and he was just left with the loss now. That and the impossibility of his task.

He had no idea how he was supposed to find Delores. He didn’t know if he was near where she had come through, and there was no telling how much time had passed. Months, possibly years. She could be dead. She could be an old woman now. What would he do if that was the case? And what if he never found her? This was an entirely new world that he’d been told was larger than Earth. The hopelessness of it all sapped his strength and his will to continue.

Terry shook his head.

“No,” he said out loud. “NO, damn you. You’re not ending like this. You’re not your father. Get up.”

He stood back up and looked to the river, which was the easier choice of the two directions. It was away from that fog. He didn’t have time to fall apart now. Elton said that people admired him because he tried. Well, it was past time to try.

Terry sheathed his sword into his inside coat pocket of holding and started work on his saddle bags. He spent some time arranging them and the straps until he had something he could use as a backpack. He smiled at it. Progress. Not much, but it was something. You had to celebrate the small victories.

He put his makeshift backpack on and set out toward the forest and the river.

After descending the hill, he decided his best bet was to make toward that cleared spot and hope to find a settlement of some kind. He wasn’t sure what kind of creatures would be in these lands, but he tended to get on well with Fantastics, particularly goblins. He liked goblins. Sometimes more than humans. Whatever they were though, he could start asking if they’d seen a bald female mage or had heard of one. Wherever D was, she had probably managed to draw some attention to herself.

“Maybe she’s been waiting for me,” Terry said quietly, and smiled. He’d find her. She was the only thing he had left to hold to.

The forest was thicker and greener than any forest he’d ever walked in back home. It felt untouched by humanoid hands and it made him nervous as well. Everything in the Everywhen seemed to be making him nervous.

Terry stopped walking. He abruptly realized he wasn’t in the wide world any more. There was no Church to hide from. There was no threat of clerics, and no social stigma of being a knight AND a magic user. Terry could, for the very first time, be exactly who and what he was, and it was time to do so. He inhaled, and as he did he drew mana into himself. He thought of it as mana this time. Not his “will” as he always had before. There was no point in lying to himself any more. He nearly filled himself and he became aware of just how long that took. Delores had said he was frighteningly strong, and he’d somehow grown recently. Then Terry actually felt the mana inside him.

Delores had also that said as you held mana you could feel its desire to be used, but not what to do with it. It had always made him giddy and active, but that was the worst of it. The mana in the Everywhen felt different. He could feel ITS will. It knew its purpose. To create. To heal. He felt the need to commit great acts. To move the world. He immediately let most of it drain out of him. The need was terrible. He kept enough to do the things he normally did. No more, no less. The purpose remained, but as a buzzing in the back of his mind, something he could ignore for a time.

Terry usually ignored the web of mana that spread over the world as well, but now he watched it closely. It pulsed around him in response to life and he could tell he was surrounded by living things. He couldn’t tell anything beyond that, so he shrugged and set off again. He watched and listened as hard as he could. He was still extremely nervous about this place.

“Well looky here! Got us a big fella!” a voice said from somewhere. Terry kept himself calm and didn’t spin around in a panic. He carefully scanned the area, but couldn’t see anyone. There was no way he could have missed a grown man approaching him, was there?

“Over here, haircut!” the voice spoke again, and this time Terry turned toward it. Standing on a tree stump was a tiny man.

He was maybe three or four inches high and dressed in rustic clothes with a green coat, and a red Smurf-hat. Sticking out of that hat was a white feather. The little man was tanned and had sandy blond hair. His pointed ears reminded Terry of elves or goblins. The little man seemed to preen under his attention, almost like a cat.

“And who might you be when you’re at home, big-job?” the little man asked.

Terry blinked. “Are you a gnome?”

The little man stared at him. “Do I have a tobacco stained beard and look like I go around collecting garbage? Guess again.”

Terry shook his head. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” He knelt down low and held a finger out. The little man seemed to get the idea and shook Terry’s finger. “I’m Terry. I’m here from the wide world. What’s your name?”

“Well! You’re a trusting soul, aren’t ya!” The man said. “You can call me Humphrey, Master Terry. I believe I’m here to give you directions.”

Terry smiled. Maybe his luck was changing.

“That’s great! Can I ask something first?”

“I suppose,” the little man said warily.

“I’m a student of what we call Fantastics back home and I’ve never actually seen your kind. Are you a faerie?”

Humphrey gave Terry a flat look. “I believe you meant Tuatha de Danann.”

Terry tried to repeat the word in his head and after the third attempt, gave up.

“I kinda think I meant faerie.”

The little man walked to the edge of the stump and the smile on his face had lost all friendliness. It was the look of an irate waiter trying to keep his job.

“Perhaps,” Humphrey said in clipped words, “you meant the Wee Folk. Or the Gentry. Maybe the Good Folk, and not that... that OTHER thing you said.”

Terry was off his game and the Fae had never been a focus of his readings.

“Nope. I’m pretty sure I meant faerie.”

“Oh, that’s it!” the little man said. He leaped into the air and punched Terry in the face with the force of a truck, and he went flying before skidding to a halt on his stomach. He tried to lift himself up, but he felt the full weight of a man standing on his back and somehow holding him down. He felt his backpack stripped from him and tossed to the side. Then a pair of tiny feet walked up his back. Try as he might, he couldn’t get up.

“I tried to be a good member of the Gentry,” Humphrey said. “I was gonna do like the Court said and guide you to something useful. Well now you are straight up FUCKED, me old beauty.”

Terry felt a foot kick his head hard enough to force his face into the dirt.

“Going to the privy?” Humphrey said. “I’m stealing the toilet paper. Got a cookie?” Another kick to the head. “THOSE WON’T BE CHOCOLATE CHIPS, PALLIE!”

Suddenly, Terry felt the little man pause and he heard something in the wind. A whisper at the edge of hearing. When he turned his head just enough, he saw Humphrey listening to that wind. Did everyone hear voices and Terry had just never paid attention?

The little man sighed. “Fine. FINE. I can’t torment you. Not as much as I’d like. You’ve got something to be about. BUT, I AM allowed to punish you for using the “F” word,” Humphrey said before cupping his hands and shouting, “BRING OUT THE HONORED DEAD!”

“Wait, what?!” Terry shouted. He heard more tiny footsteps and when he looked in the direction of the mountain, a troop of faeries, wee folk, whatever appeared. They were all dressed like Humphrey. They were also carrying a corpse.

It was dressed like them, but was the size of a toddler. Terry blinked. Then the thing’s head lifted and Terry’s skin tried to crawl backwards off of his body.

“Are we leaving yet?” the corpse asked.

Terry heard screaming and it took a moment to realize it was him doing it. He hadn’t realized he’d started. He hated the undead and this thing was certainly undead. It looked dead. The eyes were the milky white of a corpse’s eyes and didn’t move. The skin was ashen. It had an... odor. Terry tried to climb up to run and nearly made it, but Humphrey jumped up and came down on his back so hard it forced him back down.

“OH NO YOU DON’T!” the Wee Folk said, and Terry could hear the grin in his voice. “We have specifically been given permission to do this.”

Terry laid there and felt himself shaking as the giant, tiny, dead person was placed on his back. The thing gripped him tightly through his duster. He thought the fingers and heels might be digging into the armor underneath. It hung on as if it were a part of him.

Terry finally managed to struggle to his feet. He tried taking his duster off and running but it had become attached to him. He tried shaking the body off, but it wouldn’t budge. It weighed a ton.

“What is this?!” Terry shouted down at the troop of faeries.

“Oh!” Humphrey said. “It’s simple, bright boy! Danal there is dead! You have to take him to holy ground for us and bury him! If you don’t do it by sunrise tomorrow...” Humphrey trailed off and thought for a moment. “uh, we’ll cut your balls off!” The rest of the troop nodded sagely.

Terry screamed in anger and started trying to stomp the little men, but one of them swept the leg and knocked him to the ground. Terry sprung back up and looked around. They’d all vanished.

“They couldn’t be serious,” he said to himself.

“Oh, they’re serious,” the corpse said suddenly. Terry felt his hair stand on end. “And if you don’t mind I’d rather have this done sooner than later.”

Terry took a minute to compose himself. He was letting his emotions get away with him. He took a deep breath. The stink of death settled into his lungs and he nearly threw up right there. As he straightened, he felt the massive weight of the corpse bounce on his back.

“Giddy-up,” Danal said. Terry grumbled and set off in the direction the little corpse indicated with a finger.