‘We will be off then,’ said one of the two men shouldering a heavily-breathing Mr Kolm. I watched them leave, tracking the path we had carved to reach so far. The two of them seemed mostly fine if not for a few injuries. I wondered if sending two people was necessary, but the consensus agreed, so who was I to judge?
I looked around. Most of them had grave faces. I saw Ms Olsberg who was pensive; Mr Mason who kept looking around; Mr Harris who was in his own world. The rest were restless. A heavily injured colleague and a dead one, I thought. Even when we return, this environment won’t perish. It may fester more. None of them had expected this to happen. I suppose the hunt was never considered so hazardous an event. The teams, now brought together, should have consisted of twelve people, but after one death and three retreats, only eight remained.
‘What now?’ asked Mr Mason. He had unsheathed his sword, examining it. His gaze seemed satisfied. There must not have been major chipping.
‘Half of the expedition is still in the forests,’ Ms Olsberg replied, cleaning her revolver. The beautiful thing had a long barrel and an intricate pattern that I managed to notice only barely. Roses? Small budding roses were engraved on that piece. I looked away from it. I had my own items to check. The flasks I carried under my vest were empty and I had no more water. I even bought these under the name of research. My research funds were a little lighter now; I hoped none pried into it.
I had dispelled my magic. The spears were of no use to me anymore. They had returned to the earth. Keeping their form was costing me a great deal of concentration. Had I been born with a better aptitude for Earth, this may not have been the case. But I was not sorry; Earth did not allure me, and I had enough talent to utilise all four primary elements.
‘We will search for the remaining three teams before making a decision,’ said Mr Harris, looking our way with those wide eyes. I had heard from Mr Mason that the man was married. Not to be an intrepid meddler, but who has such courage to look into those eyes and love them still? ‘Do you mind, Professor?’ he asked.
‘No, no,’ I said politely. Even the most perceptive of men could not tell the terrible thoughts I bore from the soft nature of my speech. The man had shown me courtesy; why mustn’t I return it? ‘By all means, we should continue.’
He nodded, instructing us to rest before our departure in ten minutes, giving us ample amount of time to inspect our weapons, fill our tummies and empty our bladders. I was not one for declining such offers, but I thought ten minutes might as well be a death sentence to our yet-to-be-found colleagues. ‘It is necessary to re-energise ourselves,’ said Ms Olsberg, taking a seat beside me. ‘They will be safe, Professor.’ She looked at me. ‘Those that think a lot end up causing anxiety for themselves. That is the spawn of demise.’ Her words were wise, but I doubted not thinking should be the learning lesson for a new professor. ‘Here.’ She offered me biscuits from the little pouch sitting on her belt. ‘Fill your sugar. You will need it.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, helping her empty the pouch. I admired the quality and range of her wares. Some biscuits were round while others were rectangular. I spotted a few square ones but stayed away from them. Bane of all evil, I thought. Most vile of persons must have baked these. Who goes for square? My thoughts were — as usual — beyond any mortal. The faint smell of vanilla seeds drifted in the air, and with little bites, I devoured those biscuits. They were a little dry. ‘If only we had some tea,’ I spoke in regret and hopelessness, but Ms Olsberg came to my aid.
‘I have some,’ she said in a most casual manner and conjured a vacuum flask from her inner jacket pocket. She handed me the large cap and poured me some tea.
‘Thank you,’ I said, finding it ridiculous and impressive at the same moment. I hadn’t thought of her as a person of tea. 'Ah,' I exclaimed in relief, taking a sip. The wind had picked up. The night was cold, and I hadn’t thought of such luxury in the wild. Yet I believe that was one of the most wonderful teas I had ever had — under a calming foliage, against an aromatic tree. Though the moon was high and bright, I could appreciate its beauty without raising my head, for on the still surface of my tea danced its littlest reflection. I thought it amusing, and while refilling my tummy, I refilled my strength.
‘Wonderful, right?’ asked Ms Olsberg. ‘But now, we must go.’ She stood up from beside me, and I saw Mr Harris gesturing at us.
‘The break is over,’ he said. I looked at my watch, and indeed ten minutes had passed without my noticing. Five past one.
‘Ready?’ asked Mr Mason who had been speaking with some man as we walked towards the group. I nodded while brushing my clothes. The hunt was resumed.
***
Currently, we were scouring the forest towards the east and northeast. The little clearing we had fought in was no more in sight, and the dark had returned upon us once more. We hadn’t split in search, and we did not run nor rush. We must stay alert, that was what Mr Harris had said. We will follow the hounds; they know the scent of our colleagues. I did not know what he meant until I saw him presenting a pouch to the dogs. After a closer look and some inquisition, I understood its contents.
‘Castor oil and camomile flowers,’ I mused as we walked. ‘How smart.’ I looked at the brave four-legged creatures leading us. We had with us two hounds — sturdily built, strong-jawed, long-snouted, and extremely terrifying. ‘Shouldn’t there be three?’ I asked in whispers.
‘One died protecting us,’ said a man. He was part of the team that had lost a man. I felt a little sorry for them. Ron Hill, was it? I thought. He had a pale and slender face as if someone had hit him from both sides at once, flattening the skull. Suddenly, I felt a pang of sorrow — not for the unfortunately ugly man but for the hound. What loyalty, I thought. I wondered if our hound — the one that had been sniffing a dead beast’s behind not long ago — would do the same for us. My eyes narrowed. Somehow, I doubted that.
So, the eight men marched into the dark forest, searching for the colleagues that might be in grave danger or may not even be alive. I must say, I was not very pleased with the constant walking. I was a professor; I was supposed to delve into books.
I was in thought when some woman yanked me out of it. ‘Professor,’ said she, ‘how do you fight?’ That was rather abrupt and cryptic. How do I fight? Well, with fear for tomorrow and rigorous protection from Ms Olsberg, of course. That was true, but I thought it might not be the most acceptable answer, so I gave it a little thought.
‘Using elements, I suppose?’ I spoke. ‘Is that what you meant?’ I thought that would be the end of it, but the woman tottered towards me, walking alongside. You will leave your subordinate to hold the tail alone?
‘I was simply curious about your practices. How does a mage fight?’ she asked with twinkling eyes. I had seen it before. It was what many called pure curiosity — the most tiring aspect of a student an educator could witness. I felt the innate fear of a professor — the thought that it might be the beginning of a barrage of questions, and Ivory be merciful, I was right.
Time passed. Please spare me, I thought as my pocket watch indicated half past one. My ears were hurting, and I was worried my brain might have fallen along the road. I was too tired to answer any more questions, but the woman still continued asking.
‘When do you cut your hair?’ she asked. It was, I believe, her thirtieth question. At this point, I was afraid I might do what every adult man feared — cry. I felt misery and a feeling of abandonment rise inside. Where were my colleagues when I needed them the most? Please, stop, I thought while providing the woman with some vague answers.
‘Stop it, Qila,’ said Ms Olsberg, having seen my plight. Her green eyes were sharp and commanding. ‘The professor is tired.’ She had been walking much ahead but came all the way back for my sake. I was grateful but would have appreciated had she been sooner. I did not believe in ‘better late than never.’ I had ideals and principles — beliefs I held dear. One of them firmly stated that when it truly matters, late and never become one and the same. That thin line is what determines the future; it creates a man and it creates a monster. It is the one moment that determines fate. Like running towards a burning house… For me, later is the regret of a child that arrived a minute too late. But perhaps, that child found his redemption. Perhaps, he had not been late once again. Perhaps, when it mattered, he was there, burning himself. Perhaps, she will wake.
I was very emotional suddenly, and this was no place for such a thing — not in the company of others. ‘Did you hear, professor?’ said the woman walking beside me.
‘Yes?’ I asked, perplexed.
‘I said, I am Qila Nancy. Nice to meet you.’ I nodded at the woman who smiled, playing with the twirls of her brown hair. She seemed to have a better attitude towards our situation. She did not seem weary or wary. I believed she had much still to inquire about but heeded Ms Olsberg’s words. I too did not disturb her lest she disturbs my peace. Instead, I listened to the conversation Ms Olsberg and Mr Harris were having, distancing myself from depressing thoughts.
‘Did you find the same beasts as us, Captain?’ Ms Olsberg asked, searching our surroundings.
‘Yes,’ the man replied. ‘A pack of wolves attacked us all, but there was no beast of that size among them.’ I recalled the beast. Indeed, there could not have been more than one so majestic, intelligent, and strong. ‘From what you have mentioned, it seems the beasts that attacked you were well-organised. The attack on us felt less of an ambush. They did catch us by surprise; hounds did not smell them. But they felt beasts in the end, less smart.’
‘So, the giant one was behind that smart approach our beasts took?’ Ms Olsberg asked. It was less of a question and more of a pensive woman’s musings.
‘Nothing but speculations,’ said the man as we continued. I felt the air change. Our surroundings seemed less spacious. The forest was dense and the overgrown bushes did not allow much in the sense of vision.
‘What happened to the scouts?’ suddenly asked Mr Mason. He too was eavesdro— listening to the very public conversation. ‘They had gone ahead of us.’ They indeed had. It dawned on me too. Besides the twenty-four men, there were scouts who should have informed us at the first sight of danger. They were to inform us so we could ambush. What happened to them? Dark thoughts took me by surprise, and Mr Harris confirmed the suspicion.
‘Hounds could not sense anything.’ There was a slight sense of discomfort in that voice. ‘What could men walking alone have done?’
‘Did you find anything?’ asked the green-eyed woman.
I saw a moment’s hesitation in Mr Harris’s behaviour and felt what he was about to say. ‘We found one mauled and mangled, dragged across the woodland to the west.’ That was truly the worst fate I had ever heard about. I felt the chill of the night and the whispers of the woods, and neither seemed pleasing. It took me out of my element — put me amid the voices of dread.
‘Who was it?’
‘We do not know; his head was torn, and the body looked worse than shredded paper.’ At this point, I was wondering if this man was educated in the art of literature and dread. I wondered if he had learnt how to start but forgot how to shut up. I did not want to hear any of this. I looked around, but no one seemed to be in a hurry to stop the man from speaking. They are…battle-hardened, I suppose, that was the only reason I could conjure. None of them seemed apathetic but neither were they belching in horror. They had grim faces but were not horrified. What seemed to me as new was just another possibility to them — albeit an awful and unwanted one.
‘We have seen plenty gruesome,’ Ms Nancy said, answering my confusion, looking at me smilingly. ‘We have seen most things when we were students here.’
‘You were a student at the academy?’ I asked, hoping I did not come across as sardonic or derisive. What are they teaching them?
‘Oh, yes, all of us are alumni,’ she looked at our colleagues. ‘The Martial Studies department is in charge of the security, so we recruit only from our own.’
That was incredible in many ways. Why such caution? What are they hiding here? Gold, gems, future, and dreams? On second thought, indeed, they had all that and more here. Something struck me suddenly, and I asked, ‘Is Mr Ruth an alumnus too?’
‘Who? Oh, the night captain. Yes, yes; he too is one of us. He is a senior of mine by five years,’ she said cheerfully.
‘How old is he?’ I asked nonchalantly.
‘Thirty-one, I think.’ I had found more about the man I had written down on my list of suspects. So, you are twenty-six. And I had extracted the age of a woman — a difficult task, that one.
While I kept silent, we continued our search. A quarter of an hour passed. We had walked far, and yet, had not found a sign of the living. The insects were the only things I could hear, and to a certain degree, I was worried. The dogs are leading us, so surely, they must have found the scent. Ms Nancy was chattering about a jewellery store with another one of our female colleagues. Their voices kept playing in the back of my mind like music in a ballroom. I wished it would stop, and suddenly, it did. But not like this, I thought.
In front of us, near a tree that bore claw marks, were blood smears and drag marks. There, through the thick bushes, was a head sticking out. Its eyes were wide open and horrified. It was staring at a gory mess — at what remained of a body. It was bloody; it was mangled; and it was anything but what a human should be. ‘Scott?’ I heard a trembling mumble beside me. It was one of our scouts.
‘We will be off then,’ said one of the two men shouldering a heavily-breathing Mr Kolm. I watched them leave, tracking the path we had carved to reach so far. The two of them seemed mostly fine if not for a few injuries. I wondered if sending two people was necessary, but the consensus agreed, so who was I to judge?
I looked around. Most of them had grave faces. I saw Ms Olsberg who was pensive; Mr Mason who kept looking around; Mr Harris who was in his own world. The rest were restless. A heavily injured colleague and a dead one, I thought. Even when we return, this environment won’t perish. It may fester more. None of them had expected this to happen. I suppose the hunt was never considered so hazardous an event. The teams, now brought together, should have consisted of twelve people, but after one death and three retreats, only eight remained.
‘What now?’ asked Mr Mason. He had unsheathed his sword, examining it. His gaze seemed satisfied. There must not have been major chipping.
‘Half of the expedition is still in the forests,’ Ms Olsberg replied, cleaning her revolver. The beautiful thing had a long barrel and an intricate pattern that I managed to notice only barely. Roses? Small budding roses were engraved on that piece. I looked away from it. I had my own items to check. The flasks I carried under my vest were empty and I had no more water. I even bought these under the name of research. My research funds were a little lighter now; I hoped none pried into it.
I had dispelled my magic. The spears were of no use to me anymore. They had returned to the earth. Keeping their form was costing me a great deal of concentration. Had I been born with a better aptitude for Earth, this may not have been the case. But I was not sorry; Earth did not allure me, and I had enough talent to utilise all four primary elements.
‘We will search for the remaining three teams before making a decision,’ said Mr Harris, looking our way with those wide eyes. I had heard from Mr Mason that the man was married. Not to be an intrepid meddler, but who has such courage to look into those eyes and love them still? ‘Do you mind, Professor?’ he asked.
‘No, no,’ I said politely. Even the most perceptive of men could not tell the terrible thoughts I bore from the soft nature of my speech. The man had shown me courtesy; why mustn’t I return it? ‘By all means, we should continue.’
He nodded, instructing us to rest before our departure in ten minutes, giving us ample amount of time to inspect our weapons, fill our tummies and empty our bladders. I was not one for declining such offers, but I thought ten minutes might as well be a death sentence to our yet-to-be-found colleagues. ‘It is necessary to re-energise ourselves,’ said Ms Olsberg, taking a seat beside me. ‘They will be safe, Professor.’ She looked at me. ‘Those that think a lot end up causing anxiety for themselves. That is the spawn of demise.’ Her words were wise, but I doubted not thinking should be the learning lesson for a new professor. ‘Here.’ She offered me biscuits from the little pouch sitting on her belt. ‘Fill your sugar. You will need it.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, helping her empty the pouch. I admired the quality and range of her wares. Some biscuits were round while others were rectangular. I spotted a few square ones but stayed away from them. Bane of all evil, I thought. Most vile of persons must have baked these. Who goes for square? My thoughts were — as usual — beyond any mortal. The faint smell of vanilla seeds drifted in the air, and with little bites, I devoured those biscuits. They were a little dry. ‘If only we had some tea,’ I spoke in regret and hopelessness, but Ms Olsberg came to my aid.
‘I have some,’ she said in a most casual manner and conjured a vacuum flask from her inner jacket pocket. She handed me the large cap and poured me some tea.
‘Thank you,’ I said, finding it ridiculous and impressive at the same moment. I hadn’t thought of her as a person of tea. 'Ah,' I exclaimed in relief, taking a sip. The wind had picked up. The night was cold, and I hadn’t thought of such luxury in the wild. Yet I believe that was one of the most wonderful teas I had ever had — under a calming foliage, against an aromatic tree. Though the moon was high and bright, I could appreciate its beauty without raising my head, for on the still surface of my tea danced its littlest reflection. I thought it amusing, and while refilling my tummy, I refilled my strength.
‘Wonderful, right?’ asked Ms Olsberg. ‘But now, we must go.’ She stood up from beside me, and I saw Mr Harris gesturing at us.
‘The break is over,’ he said. I looked at my watch, and indeed ten minutes had passed without my noticing. Five past one.
‘Ready?’ asked Mr Mason who had been speaking with some man as we walked towards the group. I nodded while brushing my clothes. The hunt was resumed.
***
Currently, we were scouring the forest towards the east and northeast. The little clearing we had fought in was no more in sight, and the dark had returned upon us once more. We hadn’t split in search, and we did not run nor rush. We must stay alert, that was what Mr Harris had said. We will follow the hounds; they know the scent of our colleagues. I did not know what he meant until I saw him presenting a pouch to the dogs. After a closer look and some inquisition, I understood its contents.
‘Castor oil and camomile flowers,’ I mused as we walked. ‘How smart.’ I looked at the brave four-legged creatures leading us. We had with us two hounds — sturdily built, strong-jawed, long-snouted, and extremely terrifying. ‘Shouldn’t there be three?’ I asked in whispers.
‘One died protecting us,’ said a man. He was part of the team that had lost a man. I felt a little sorry for them. Ron Hill, was it? I thought. He had a pale and slender face as if someone had hit him from both sides at once, flattening the skull. Suddenly, I felt a pang of sorrow — not for the unfortunately ugly man but for the hound. What loyalty, I thought. I wondered if our hound — the one that had been sniffing a dead beast’s behind not long ago — would do the same for us. My eyes narrowed. Somehow, I doubted that.
So, the eight men marched into the dark forest, searching for the colleagues that might be in grave danger or may not even be alive. I must say, I was not very pleased with the constant walking. I was a professor; I was supposed to delve into books.
I was in thought when some woman yanked me out of it. ‘Professor,’ said she, ‘how do you fight?’ That was rather abrupt and cryptic. How do I fight? Well, with fear for tomorrow and rigorous protection from Ms Olsberg, of course. That was true, but I thought it might not be the most acceptable answer, so I gave it a little thought.
‘Using elements, I suppose?’ I spoke. ‘Is that what you meant?’ I thought that would be the end of it, but the woman tottered towards me, walking alongside. You will leave your subordinate to hold the tail alone?
‘I was simply curious about your practices. How does a mage fight?’ she asked with twinkling eyes. I had seen it before. It was what many called pure curiosity — the most tiring aspect of a student an educator could witness. I felt the innate fear of a professor — the thought that it might be the beginning of a barrage of questions, and Ivory be merciful, I was right.
Time passed. Please spare me, I thought as my pocket watch indicated half past one. My ears were hurting, and I was worried my brain might have fallen along the road. I was too tired to answer any more questions, but the woman still continued asking.
‘When do you cut your hair?’ she asked. It was, I believe, her thirtieth question. At this point, I was afraid I might do what every adult man feared — cry. I felt misery and a feeling of abandonment rise inside. Where were my colleagues when I needed them the most? Please, stop, I thought while providing the woman with some vague answers.
‘Stop it, Qila,’ said Ms Olsberg, having seen my plight. Her green eyes were sharp and commanding. ‘The professor is tired.’ She had been walking much ahead but came all the way back for my sake. I was grateful but would have appreciated had she been sooner. I did not believe in ‘better late than never.’ I had ideals and principles — beliefs I held dear. One of them firmly stated that when it truly matters, late and never become one and the same. That thin line is what determines the future; it creates a man and it creates a monster. It is the one moment that determines fate. Like running towards a burning house… For me, later is the regret of a child that arrived a minute too late. But perhaps, that child found his redemption. Perhaps, he had not been late once again. Perhaps, when it mattered, he was there, burning himself. Perhaps, she will wake.
I was very emotional suddenly, and this was no place for such a thing — not in the company of others. ‘Did you hear, professor?’ said the woman walking beside me.
‘Yes?’ I asked, perplexed.
‘I said, I am Qila Nancy. Nice to meet you.’ I nodded at the woman who smiled, playing with the twirls of her brown hair. She seemed to have a better attitude towards our situation. She did not seem weary or wary. I believed she had much still to inquire about but heeded Ms Olsberg’s words. I too did not disturb her lest she disturbs my peace. Instead, I listened to the conversation Ms Olsberg and Mr Harris were having, distancing myself from depressing thoughts.
‘Did you find the same beasts as us, Captain?’ Ms Olsberg asked, searching our surroundings.
‘Yes,’ the man replied. ‘A pack of wolves attacked us all, but there was no beast of that size among them.’ I recalled the beast. Indeed, there could not have been more than one so majestic, intelligent, and strong. ‘From what you have mentioned, it seems the beasts that attacked you were well-organised. The attack on us felt less of an ambush. They did catch us by surprise; hounds did not smell them. But they felt beasts in the end, less smart.’
‘So, the giant one was behind that smart approach our beasts took?’ Ms Olsberg asked. It was less of a question and more of a pensive woman’s musings.
‘Nothing but speculations,’ said the man as we continued. I felt the air change. Our surroundings seemed less spacious. The forest was dense and the overgrown bushes did not allow much in the sense of vision.
‘What happened to the scouts?’ suddenly asked Mr Mason. He too was eavesdro— listening to the very public conversation. ‘They had gone ahead of us.’ They indeed had. It dawned on me too. Besides the twenty-four men, there were scouts who should have informed us at the first sight of danger. They were to inform us so we could ambush. What happened to them? Dark thoughts took me by surprise, and Mr Harris confirmed the suspicion.
‘Hounds could not sense anything.’ There was a slight sense of discomfort in that voice. ‘What could men walking alone have done?’
‘Did you find anything?’ asked the green-eyed woman.
I saw a moment’s hesitation in Mr Harris’s behaviour and felt what he was about to say. ‘We found one mauled and mangled, dragged across the woodland to the west.’ That was truly the worst fate I had ever heard about. I felt the chill of the night and the whispers of the woods, and neither seemed pleasing. It took me out of my element — put me amid the voices of dread.
‘Who was it?’
‘We do not know; his head was torn, and the body looked worse than shredded paper.’ At this point, I was wondering if this man was educated in the art of literature and dread. I wondered if he had learnt how to start but forgot how to shut up. I did not want to hear any of this. I looked around, but no one seemed to be in a hurry to stop the man from speaking. They are…battle-hardened, I suppose, that was the only reason I could conjure. None of them seemed apathetic but neither were they belching in horror. They had grim faces but were not horrified. What seemed to me as new was just another possibility to them — albeit an awful and unwanted one.
‘We have seen plenty gruesome,’ Ms Nancy said, answering my confusion, looking at me smilingly. ‘We have seen most things when we were students here.’
‘You were a student at the academy?’ I asked, hoping I did not come across as sardonic or derisive. What are they teaching them?
‘Oh, yes, all of us are alumni,’ she looked at our colleagues. ‘The Martial Studies department is in charge of the security, so we recruit only from our own.’
That was incredible in many ways. Why such caution? What are they hiding here? Gold, gems, future, and dreams? On second thought, indeed, they had all that and more here. Something struck me suddenly, and I asked, ‘Is Mr Ruth an alumnus too?’
‘Who? Oh, the night captain. Yes, yes; he too is one of us. He is a senior of mine by five years,’ she said cheerfully.
‘How old is he?’ I asked nonchalantly.
‘Thirty-one, I think.’ I had found more about the man I had written down on my list of suspects. So, you are twenty-six. And I had extracted the age of a woman — a difficult task, that one.
While I kept silent, we continued our search. A quarter of an hour passed. We had walked far, and yet, had not found a sign of the living. The insects were the only things I could hear, and to a certain degree, I was worried. The dogs are leading us, so surely, they must have found the scent. Ms Nancy was chattering about a jewellery store with another one of our female colleagues. Their voices kept playing in the back of my mind like music in a ballroom. I wished it would stop, and suddenly, it did. But not like this, I thought.
In front of us, near a tree that bore claw marks, were blood smears and drag marks. There, through the thick bushes, was a head sticking out. Its eyes were wide open and horrified. It was staring at a gory mess — at what remained of a body. It was bloody; it was mangled; and it was anything but what a human should be. ‘Scott?’ I heard a trembling mumble beside me. It was one of our scouts.
