Tiny Tears (Day 78)

"What right do you have to make these demands of me?" Terakiel asked sheepishly.

The other man balked. "Well, I certainly didn't bring myself here!"

"I didn't do anything of the sort!" insisted Terakiel.

"It is clear that you had something to do with it whether or not you intended to! You know of The Strand, yes?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

The other man buried his face in his palm for just a moment. "We are making no progress here. I am beginning to suspect that you are fleeing from the law--or perhaps someone else is after you. You're in danger, aren't you?"

Terakiel shook his head slowly. "Nothing like that, I'm afraid. Why should I pour out my soul to a stranger whose intent is suspect? There is no way for me to know that you're telling me the truth about what just happened here."

The man sighed, his shock of long hair swaying as he shook his head in frustration. "Of course you're right. If you speak truly, you have no reason to trust me, just as I have little reason to trust you. I have no idea where we are, but this is definitely not the right destination. There was something. . . strange about the Exod this time. I mean--it's always strange. The Exod is a mysterious and possibly dangerous place, but this time it was different. I feel as if--well, it's not important."

It sounded a lot like what Terakiel had experienced. Were there now hundreds of thoughts swimming in this man's subconscious, just barely perceptible? Did he now know things that he rightly should not? He examined the man's unusual wear once more and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his long cloak was called a piriol. It was a special sturdy fabric that did not tear easily. For what reason would he know that?

"Maybe it is important," Terakiel suggested. "I feel as if. . .I know things I did not before."

The other man cast a serious look at Terakiel, as if considering the meaning behind his words. "These woods--we are in Lakara, aren't we? I've. . .never heard of it before. But that's where we are. I know that."

Terakiel merely nodded. Whatever had just taken place, it was clear the same had happened to this man. He felt as if he too had traveled the Exod despite knowing that he'd not left the clearing and had not released his hands from the surface of the planar stone.

"It was painful," the man continued. "It was so hot but I couldn't take my hands off the stone."

"But the Exod," Terakiel offered. "It was cold, frigid even. The wind howled terribly and there was no color in the entire world. It was frightening."

After a brief silence, the other man continued. "I can't imagine how far away I must be from Sidea."

"I'm not sure I'd be able to tell you," Terakiel replied, genuinely regretful. "I've never seen what might lie beyond these woods. Anyone who has--if indeed they have--has never come back. I fear I'm on a fool's errand, Stranger."

"Anyone who can commune with the Strand should have no problem challenging the wilderness," the other man said carefully.

"I told you," Terakiel said, a little gruffly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Very well. Your secrets are your own. Despite all that--I think that we now must work together. The planar stone is. . .dead. I am unsure why it is here or how long it has been since its energy has been discharged, but. . ."

"I am not sure I--I don't know if I can help you. I am having so much trouble just supporting myself. I am not an adventurer--I barely know what I'm doing."

The other man looked frustrated. "You could make things so much easier for yourself if you just--if you were to. . ."

"I can't. I can't do that."

"Yes, well. . .I can assure you that I'm capable of taking care of myself. As the old saying goes, 'two heads are better than one.' "

Terakiel was unsure what such a proverb might mean, but before he could consider it, the other man was rushing off to the edge of the clearing, seemingly to survey the area. He turned around to cast an expectant glance at Terakiel. "Well, which way? I assume you've been traveling a certain direction all this time, yes?"

The shirtless, battered and bruised young man felt he had no other choice. He led the way.

"Oh, I must have forgotten. Pardon my rudeness, but my name is Aisen. It is a pleasure to meet you. If only we could have met under different circumstances. . ."