The Nameless

By Michael Butz

Just as the sun dies and is born anew so is the earth destroyed and reborn.  The cycles of life are eternal, what is made must be unmade, and what is unmade will be created again in turning of the great wheel of time; there is no beginning and there is no end.  Nations rise and fall in this endless cycle as the ebb and flow of the ocean’s tide.  Ages come and go, and come again in the continuous dance of Light and Dark.  In an Age of rebirth and relearning, an Age that is still yet to come, an Age long lost in the dance of time, a wind began to grow in the Cradle of the Mother.

Lighting flashed in the sky to the south, booming thunder into Erm’s ears.  The storm would be upon him soon.  Not too long ago the familiar feeling of an impending storm had told him a torrent was to hit around sunset.  But it was only an hour after noon when the skies started sending down rain.

A small drizzle turned into a down pour within minutes, and before too long the entire brunt of the storm was upon him.  The sky was churned to darkness as black as a night in new moon; the storm would not disappoint his feeling.  Not that he wished that it wouldn’t, but by now, he knew there was no doubt about that part of it.

Giving Jaidaen’s belly a tap with his feet his mamut took off at full speed.  Erm quickly grabbed on to the cargo bags tied to Jaidaen’s furry shoulders and neck to keep from flying off.  Before too long the rolling hills of the pastures began to give way to his uncle’s barley fields.   They were rounding on his uncle’s manor within minutes, the short cropped grass of the lawn was hardly visible.

Erm tightened his thighs for Jaidaen to stop, sliding in the mud, she just avoided slamming into the barn.  He quickly jumped off and she rushed to the barn door, eager to be in out of the rain.  Erm opened the large door, and she squeezed by him and through the opening with a smooth grace.

With the barn door shut and lashed Erm made a mad dash to his front door.  To his surprise it had been boarded up, along with the windows.  Looking in through the little amount exposed he could see the house was dark and empty.  Where under the Father did he go. He would try and puzzle things out later, as for now he needed to get to the barn.

Untying the large door Erm went in quickly.   Then put the bulky timber in place in front of the door to keep it from ripping off with the storm.  Sure enough uncle’s godong was gone as well as its saddle and bridle.  He must not have expected him back for a few more days, and went to take shelter in the village.

Erm took the cargo bags from Jaidaen’s back, and hung them and the drenched blanket on the rail of the godong stall.  Finding his blanket roll soaking wet, Erm grabbed a couple of spare blankets he usually used for saddles, and set up a nice little bed in some loose hay near the stack of bales in the corner.  With the rain pounding on the roof of the barn, Erm was fast asleep in minutes.

Erm awoke to the sounds of songbirds singing to a waking sun and to something moving around his head.  For some reason he couldn’t really see anything.  That was odd.  His head swam in agony, and when he tried to move it, the little it moved sent out waves of pain.

The something moved again and he saw a fuzzy board rising from off his head.  When he tried to put his eyes into focus his head began to throb.  What in the name of the Mother is going on?  A couple more boards were lifted and he found that he was able to sit up, which proved to be very difficult.

Only part of the way his muscles gave out on him.  Surprisingly a couple pairs of hands caught him and helped him up.  He tried to look around the barn, but everything was a blur, and when he moved his head the pain was renewed.  Somewhere off in the distance he swore someone said his name.  There it was again, a little louder though and with something he couldn’t make out after it.

“Erm…Erm are you alright,” Well, maybe it wasn’t off in the distance; it was his uncle kneeling next to him “Erm?” Suddenly something struck his face.  Whatever it was it didn’t hurt, but the waves of pain that it sent through him killed.

“OWW! What in Hehl was that for?” Surprisingly he could see clearly.  Erm tried to bring his right hand up to stop the ringing in his head, but only a pain that shot up from his shoulder and back resulted. 

He looked down at his arm questioningly.  It was a mangled, bloody wreck, and for some reason it didn’t hurt, but his head hurt more than enough to make up for it.  Someone was talking again but he couldn’t quite hear.

“…down in the storm last night…Erm?” That was his uncle again.

“What,” Even talking hurt, he found, as he tried to force out a response.

“The storm knocked down this end’a the barn last night,” Erm looked around, having to deal with the pain; he saw the corner behind him was gone, along with the bales of hay.  In the predawn light, he could hardly see outside, but he gathered that what wasn’t on top of him was scattered out in the yard.  Looking back he saw that a one foot by one foot support beam landed about a hand from where his head had been. He could only stare dumbfounded at it.

“How y’ur mamut found me in town is beyond me, but she managed well enough.” His uncle went on, “If Gandl’s door wa’n’t’a boarded up on the inside she probably would’a broke it down.”

If that was just a few inches to the left he wouldn’t be here right now.  His eyes just grew wider at the thought of it.  Holy Mother.

“I don’t think he’s all there yet,” That must have been Gandl.  Erm thought he caught a whiff of brandy on the voice.  He must’a had a rough night.  Ha.

“Huh…oh…I…I’m here,” It was hard to stop thinking about the beam. “Why was I out in the barn, where were…” Last night was a complete fog, and he found it hard to think; even trying to hurt at the moment. “…the storm.  The house was…your godong wasn’t…”

His head spun blurring his vision for a moment, and he was on his feet, sort of.  His uncle and Gandl were walking him somewhere.  At least his legs didn’t hurt, but with every footfall his head went off ringing.

“Here, drink this,” Someone else said, as they put a ceramic bowl to his lips.  The brown liquid was lightly bitter; he knew what it was and gulped it down fast.  He wasn’t sure what all was in it, but he knew that there was the pulp from some flower in it, hence the name Pulp.

When he had broken his ankle a few years ago the Wise Women of the village had given it to him.  It did the trick and then some, what ever it was.  The bowl moved away from his mouth, and he realized it was Karalee, the Wise Woman herself.

“What in the name of the great Mother were you doing in here, in a storm of all times,” She said with a scowl, as if somehow this was entirely his fault.  “Tarry said you’d be out for two more days.  You feather brained lout, and lazy to boot, coming home early from herding, you deserved as much.” She added a sharp sniff at the end to punctuate.

He was laying down now, looking up.  Above him he saw that Arlain was also there.  Why did she look so sad, and why were her eyes were all red?  Wonder what happened… oh, yeah.  For some reason he wanted to smile; he didn’t know exactly why but he looked around with a stupid grin on his face.  Hey, my head don’t hurt any more, or had it hurt at all.  He couldn’t recall.  Oh yeah, that drink…what…a poppy.  That was the flower he was thinking about.  Why he was thinking about flowers was beyond him, curious, but they were pretty though.

The sound of something grinding off in the distance caught his attention.  Oh, it seems they were doing something with his right arm, but what.  Whatever it was it made Arlain look away and retch up.  Now they’re wrapping it in cloth, and rather tight at that.  That was weird.  I better get up and see what’s going on...  Hmm, there’s a hand in the way, might as well give up.

That old lady was saying something, but he couldn’t quite catch it, something about “oops” and “too much”.  His uncle must have heard, and was laughing.  Whatever she said, he thought he should laugh as well.  He didn’t want to not laugh at a joke his uncle got and look the fool.  Only a croak came out though. Oh well.  He just grinned again.  Hey, what’s going on over there?

Sneaking in through the partially drawn shades, a small beam of light came to rest on Erm’s closed eyes.  Shortly afterwards he woke up, and found himself in some strange bed; slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes, he moved to avoid the glare.

He looked around, head throbbing, and saw that he wasn’t in the barn where he went to sleep.  He wasn’t even in his own house; he was in one of the rooms at the village Inn.

The room around him was small, adequately furnished, and of plain décor.  The walls were lightly stained wood paneling with dark stained molding, and a few drawings with fancy framing, hanging at uneven intervals around the room.

The large window to the left of the bed had a small sitting table resting underneath it; a door was on the other side of the bed from the window.  Opposite the foot of the bed was a dark stained washstand, topped with a white ceramic washbasin, and pitcher likely filled with warm water.

The wall to the left of him held a medium sized dark stained wardrobe, that stood to one side of the window and table.  At the head of the bed were two nightstands, each with an oil lamp atop them, and at the foot was a large wooden trunk.

Next to the bed in front of the wardrobe sat a chair from the study downstairs.  A rumpled up blanket lay over the arm, looking as if someone had slept there.  On the opposite side there was a similar chair, and the nightstand next to it had a wooden bowl that had been filled with something, but was now empty.

Erm’s eyes were drawn towards the window, when a feeling came over him that made him shiver.  He couldn’t tell what it was.  The feeling was like he got when a storm was on its way, but different.  In a matter of moments it was gone.

“Ah, you’re up -- Finally,” His uncle said, as he stepped into the room closing the door behind him. “Erm?”

“Where,” The word barely came out.  His mouth was beyond parched. “, what… what happened?” His entire body ached, and he couldn’t move his right arm.  He wanted to lift the covers to see why, but found it hard to move.  Pain covered his skin, and shot through his shoulders and chest at the slightest movement.

Walking in from the door, Tarry came and sat in the nearest chair.  He was holding a large ceramic bowl, and a bundle of clothes that he set on the bed next to him.

“Karalee said ta have y'a drink this when y'a woke up,” For some reason that made him chuckle. “I think she said she used the right dose this time.” Uncle pressed the cup to his lips, and he choked the concoction down.  He knew what it was but it was much more bitter that usual, and his face worked as if he had taken a gulp of Merrin’s Spirits.

Then he remembered; waking up to the roof tearing off the barn, the wall collapsing, the support beam almost killing him, and then waking again and drinking that stuff.

“Never mind…  How much bitterroot did she put in this?  It’s horrible.” Erm said weakly with as large a scowl as he could manage. “She sure gave me enough.  Man, the last thing I remember I was tryin’ to get up and see what everyone was doin’.” That just made Uncle’s grin even wider.

“Um, let’s just say y'u'er havin’ fun after that.” That produced another laugh. “Don’t worry; she gave y’a the right dose this time.  And guess wha’…” He said, pausing for a moment, conscern marked his face.  “The house was wrecked too, looked like it got blown apart; Derum was generous enough ta let us hold up here.”

Erm just stared at his blanket.  He couldn’t believe the house had been destroyed. “Where’s Jaidaen?” Erm said after his attention returned, and remembered what his uncle had told him she had done.

Tarry scratched his head, and squinted, furrowing his brows in thought, “Last time I saw ‘er, she was pacing outside I believe.  I didn’ know those things were that smart.” That amused look came back to his face, “If it wa’n’t fur ‘er, we wouldn’t’a found you until well after noon the day after the storm, yesterday, and by then the rest of the barn would’a collapsed on top’a y’a.  She came to Gandl’s house; must’a been right after the back wall fell.”

If Erm wasn’t riding Jaidaen around, she was usually following close behind where ever he went.  Her going and finding Tarry was amazing; he didn’t know she was that smart.  When Erm found her, she was trying unsuccessfully to suckle from her dead mother, along side the lifeless bodies of her siblings. 

The poor mother must have been bitten by a carrion drake, finally succumbing to the poison as she lay down to suckle her young.  He couldn’t have just left the pup there to be eaten, along with her mother and siblings.  Ever since then Erm has raised her, and she hasn't stopped amazing him.

“You still ache?” His uncle asked.

“Um,” he moved his head, and his left arm. There were only slight tinges where there had been terrible pain before. “nope.”

“You feel loopy?”

“Not that I can tell, no,”

“Good, y’a better go down and get some breakfast, ‘for Mareith stops makin’ more.”

A loud grumble from his gut answered for him.  He realized that besides the sheets, he was wearing nothing, save the scratches, bruises, and bandages that were covering him.  Shifting his legs over the side of the bed, he grabbed the bundle of clothes, firmly placing his hand next to him.  “Where’s my pipe and Nic?”

“One thing at a time,” His uncle said with a smirk. “Need some help?”

Struggling a bit he sighed, “Na, I got it.” he said from underneath the shirt.  It was hard enough to dress with one arm, and the Pulp didn’t make it any easier.  He wasn’t loopy, but he could tell that he’d had some.

With a little struggle, he was able to get his shirt the rest of the way on, with his right arm and sling inside, then pulled on his breeches.  Only then did he need help to tie them up; he stood, legs a little wobbly, and made his way out the door. 

With a sigh, he worked his way through the plainly paneled corridor, and down the stairs to the common room, holding the banister carefully the whole way.

The common room was fairly large, with several tables and benches for patrons and village folk to sit and enjoy themselves over a meal, or some of the fine house brandy.  The smell of saw dust and ale hung thick in the air, along with the heavy pipe smoke that rolled through rays of light coming in from the windows.

There were a couple of folks from the village he didn’t recognize, chatting over a mug and pipe at a table on one side of the room.  They were picking at the plates in front of them, only pausing to direct questioning stares his way.  It looked like breakfast for today was goose egg and sausage, hmmm, must be maple sausage.

At the back of the room, he saw the doors of the kitchen swing open and the Innkeeper’s daughter, as she ran towards him.  Arlain’s face was a mess; it looked as though she had been crying the whole morning and night before.  She was half a hand shorter than him, with short-cropped curly raven hair hanging down to her shoulders that today was all in a mess.

For some reason, she had always been somewhat of a tomboy, and usually hung around Erm in the woods, rather than with other girls in the village.  She preferred to wear a coat and breeches.  Somehow she seemed even prettier in them, the clothes seemed to show more of her figure then dresses would, but that’s probably not why she wore them.  Erm’s cheeks colored slightly, when he realized where his mind was going. That damned Pulp.

She carefully threw her arms around him, “Oh, you’re alright.  I thought you might sleep forever.  You had me worried sick.” She started crying again into his shoulder.  Then she looked up at him, and her face turned from sad to angry in the blink of an eye. “What were you thinking going into that barn in a storm like that?  You would loose your head if it wasn’t firmly on your neck,”

Despite being angry she hugged him harder, which probably should have hurt.  He was completely confused, and he didn’t think it was the Pulp.  If only he knew how to talk to girls, like the guys his age around the village.  Nothing came to his mind to say, so he just tried to hug her back with his left arm, at a complete loss for words.

“Um, can I sit down, I’m awfully hungry,” was the only thing that Erm could think of to say.  He had absolutely no idea how to talk to girls, or other people for that matter; besides his uncle’s friends, his uncle, and Arlain, he really didn’t know anyone.  He just talked with her the way he does his uncle’s friends, minus the cussing.  She doesn’t seem to care much for it, and usually slapped him for it.  Animals were much easier to get along with than people in his opinion.

Arlain pulled her face from his now damp shoulder, and gave him a forced smiled.  Then took his arm, to help him to the table Tarry had taken, and sat him down.  She could act most peculiar sometimes, but he supposed he understood.

Erm opened his mouth to ask Derum for a plate of breakfast, but before he could get a word out his wife, Mareith came out from the kitchen, balancing a few steaming plates in each arm.  She stopped at his table, and gave Arlain a quick scowl for skipping out on her kitchen duties.  Then she looked at him, as if to say ‘You gunna grab one or what’ He tried to take his arm away from Arlain, but she reached out and grabbed a plate, “Thank you,” He managed to say to both of them, before he made himself look like a gaping fool, and smiled. 

That was all he could get out before he dug in; he was so hungry, the plate was empty and being wiped down with a buttered roll in no time.  All before the folk who were picking at their plates when he came down finished their meals, which must be pretty cold by now.

Looking up from his barren plate, he saw that everyone in the room was looking at him, and Arlain was grinning and shaking her head.  He really didn’t care at the moment.  Right now all he could think about was a nice brimming bowl of Nic; it always seemed to taste much better right after a great meal like the one he just put down.

As if reading his mind, Tarry handed Erm his white ceramic eagle head pipe and Nic pouch, as he pulled out another of his pipes for himself.  His uncle added, “Your pipe was in about thirty pieces, cutin’ up y’ur leg pretty bad,” Erm grabbed them, “and y’ur pouch was soaked.”

 Taking the pipe by the stem, Erm began thumbing himself a nice big bowl, awkwardly with his one hand.  When finished he found a burning twig in front of his face, held by his uncle.  He puffed the brown leaves alight, and pulled deep.  For having a broken arm, and a bruised rib or two he felt surprisingly well.

When he tried to stand up, he found Arlain by his side helping him the rest of the way, and smiled at her.  And when he tried to walk for the door her arm was in his, assisting him.

“I’m fine, really,” he protested.

“Oh, sure, and when you fall and unset you arm you’ll squawk and moan about it to me for hours, not to mention what Karalee would do to me, no thank you” She said with a scowl.  She knew damn well if he did fall, he wouldn’t make a big deal of it, but he just let her “help” him to the door; and he just rolled his eyes at her.  That produced a quick sniff from her.  “Where are you going anyway, you should be getting more rest?”

He blew out a cloud of smoke, and adjusted the stem in his mouth to talk, “I want to see Jaidaen,” he answered.  The poor creature must be worried sick, if she’s been pacing outside all night and day.

Arlain opened the door, and led him outside.  They walked out unto the gravel-paving, that ran in a circle around the village green, with puddles of water and mud spotted all over.  The green was a large flattened circle of shortly cropped grass, about thirty spans across, and spotted by wild flowers.  It was surrounded by buildings on all sides; the village used it for celebrations and the summer merchants, up from Talley’s Landing to set up their wagons and peddle their wares.

The pave-way connected the Inn, the Smithy, Bakery, the Hall, and the Mill, directly opposite the Inn across the green.  The Mill was worked into the stonework bridge to its right side, that rose lazily over the Whitebreadth River marking the edge of the village; all the buildings were a match of whitewashed plaster, dark cedar beams and trimming making square sections with X’s through them on the front and sides. Each building had bright yellow thatching roofs, besides the Inn, with its green tile roof.

All the buildings matched, that is besides the stonework Mill, with its massive water wheel barely visible over its thatching.  They all needed fresh coats of whitewash by the looks of it, cracks and patches where some had fallen off on some.  The circle let off a few avenues, leading to the local housing and the bridge.

Just outside, Jaidaen was lying in a large ball, in a circle of wet matted down grass.  As Arlain and he took a couple steps from the doorway, Jaidaen’s ears twitched and her big head sprang up along with the rest of her.  In one motion she was sitting next to him, licking his face fiercely, whining, and dripping rain water.  Then hugged her neck around him, careful of his arm and ribs, wagging her long shaggy tail all the while.

As far as mamut went, Jaidaen was fairly small.  Even then, by no means was she little, when she stood up her back was near level with Erm’s head, her head easily an arm’s length above that.

He took his arm away from Arlain, and rubbed Jaidaen’s thick neck, “I’m alright girl, its ok.” then scratched at the base of an ear bigger than his hand, and rubbed a head that reminded him of a giant badger’s. “Thank you.”  He said softly.  Erm was truly grateful to his closest friend, who simply amazed him at times.  Before his shirt had been damp from Arlain, but now he was covered in wet mamut.

Something at the back of Erm’s head tingled.  It seemed his attention was drawn away sharply, down to the southern end of the village.  It was like the feeling he just had upstairs in bed.  Something important must be going on in the Southwood.  All he could hear was the creak of the waterwheel, slowly being turned by the river; he couldn’t see anything past the Mill and Bakery but the start of the bridge.  Whatever it was, it gave him the sensation that it was still far off.

“What is it,” Arlain asked, he must have been staring off in the distance, with his hand paused on Jaidaen’s neck for a while. “It’s not another storm is it,” She added worriedly.  Erm pulled his attention away from whatever had grabbed it, or tried to.  It took him several moments.  What on Ea could it be? “Erm?”

“What…oh…ah…I don’t know what...”  His brows were furrowed in thought trying to puzzle out what that feeling could mean.  The feeling changed slightly from what it had been, slightly dimmer, and then faded away.  For some reason he thought he could almost see something in the sky to the far south, like a thin tendril of smoke slowly dissipating into the calm blue sky.

Thunder rumbled from the south, after a few moments of staring off in the distance.  It seemed to come from where the “cloud” had been.  Out of a nearly cloudless sky, thunder broke out of nowhere.  That’s not possible.  After the thunder faded the familiar chill ran down his neck; another storm was on its way, and fast.

A storm, that would out shadow the previous one, appeared out of no where.  One that should have been clearly visible from the village above the Southwood for quite some time.  Something strange was going on.  Maybe the Fathers lost his mind.

The mysterious clap of thunder hadn’t gone unnoticed, everyone who had been outside, including Arlain and him, were stopped dead in their tracks, with mouths hung wide open gaping at the southern sky.  A startled murmur rose quickly from the people, as buildings emptied to fill the crowd even further.

“Erm?,” Arlain said, not taking her eyes from where the thunder had come from.

“…There’s another storm.  It i’n’t far off.” Erm said breathlessly, as he stared into the distance.

Suddenly, some sort of feeling came to him from the sky above.  Out of the clear blue, lightning forked through the sky, giving off a clap of thunder that hurt the ear.  Very rapidly, dark clouds seemed to boil up from the distant forests to the south, from where the first cloud had come from.

Billowing out from the trees, clouds formed a massive thunderhead, that spread its dark wings over the horizon.  The storm appeared as if it had been half a day coming, and as the sky became dark overcast, rain trickled down.  In a manor of minutes, the rain went from trickling to pouring, and all of this with no wind.  Only after the rain came on the fullest, did a hard wind start to blow, nearly sending the rain horizontal.

Erm snapped out of his little daze when Arlain had managed to guide him to the Inn door.  She had the door open and was dragging him in when he felt something again.  Another loud clap of thunder came; the now dark sky filled with light, behind them, as the crash of something being struck rang out.  The bolt of lightning must have hit in the woods to the south, he swore he heard a tree ripping apart.  But before he could really tell, the door had been shut.

“What in Hehl is going on?” One of the villagers demanded, as Erm turned around from staring in a horrified stupor towards the door.  He would like to know that himself. “Why didn’t you warn us, you can feel them coming!” Another voice shouted from the crowd of people that packed the room.

Murmurs about him being able to feel storms spread among the crowd, and before long it grew to a small din of indiscernible conversations.  Looking around, Erm saw that the majority of the people were staring at him flatly; some even looked irritated, as if he had created the storm himself.

Over the din, he could clearly hear the rain pounding against the tiled roof with malice, and thunder rumbling from close and far.  Jaidaen wrapped her neck around Erm, and held him tight; the thunder that hurt his ears, must have really done a number of hers; she was frightened to shaking.  Erm rubbed her neck to try and calm her.

The door of the Inn flung open from the out side, as a tall man burst into the room, shutting the door behind him almost as quickly as he came in.  The man leaned over, his arm supporting him on the closed door; the room had gone silent from his unexpected arrival.

His large, oiled cloak was covered in small beads of water, as the rain finished running off of it.  The man unwrapped the oiled rain cloak from around his self, and searched quickly for a place to put it.  Finding the pegs on the wall, he hung it by its large hood, draping the rest down to the floor, and leaned his walking staff on the wall next to it.

The man was easily taller than everyone in the room, and was at least a head taller than Erm.  His grey streaked black hair was pulled back loosely to a bun.  A thumb thick braid of hair hung from his bun, down to nearly his ankles before looping back up.  The braid was tied with a variety of different feathers, a large eagle’s at the top and an even larger rehtor’s feather beneath that.

Under the cloak, the man had been wearing a bleached white shirt stuffed into his baggy breeches, he must have taken his coat off along with the cloak.  Around his waist, he wore a thick black leather belt with a simple gold buckle with ornate silver gilding all along it.  His breeches were cut from a deep brown, almost fuzzy looking cloth.

Looking at the man's feet, Erm saw that they were completely bare.  The oddest thing about the man, even more than bare feet in autumn, was that despite everything, he looked, familiar was the closest thing he could compare the feeling to, almost as if Erm had met him before.

The strange man looked around the room, seeming to study each face with a glance.  His shaggy graying eyebrows furrowed momentarily when his gaze fell upon Erm.  Strangely the man shook his head, and gave a small laugh that didn’t touch his concerned face.

“You,” The man said, grabbing onto Erm’s right shoulder, something that should have hurt, “we need to get out of here right away.” He said, shaking his head slightly, as he grabbed up his coat and cloak.  He let go of Erm, and with a flourish donned them and had his walking staff in hand, all in one motion.  “Here, you might want this.” Said the man, as he reached inside his cloak and produced an identical one, handing it towards Erm.  But before he could grab it, Arlain had taken it up.

“What's the meaning of this?” Arlain yelled angrily at the strange man. “What in the name of the Mother are you talking about?  Who are you?” With hands firmly planted on her hips, she gave the man a look that could curdle milk. “Well!”

He only looked at her blankly, then looked back at Erm, “There is no time, we need to hurry.” Shifting his staff from one hand to the other, he opened the door and grabbed Erm by the other shoulder. “We have to get out of here now.” He said with a slightly sterner voice, looking off through one of the windows.

Erm took the rain cloak from Arlain, and started to pull it on before he was dragged out into the pouring rain.  With a little struggle, he was clutching the cloak tight around himself, and was quickly grabbed again by the man.  Erm willingly followed along, as not to damage his ribs further, followed closely himself by Jaidaen.  After a bit Erm pulled away from the man, coming out of his little daze.

“Why do we need to get out of here, and who in the Mother are you!” Erm had to yell to top the clamor of the storm.  He adjusted his cloak, pulling the hood up, as he stepped away from the man.

Lightning shot from the clouds above, striking a house on the boulevard next to the Inn.  Splinters of wood were sent flying from the deafening boom, as the thatching was set ablaze.  Tendrils of smoke flew up, but were barely visible in the gusting wind.

A few moments later, Arlain opened the door and stepped out into the dark torrent behind them.  With rain running off in rivulets from her own oiled cloak, she hurried over to them, and grabbed up Erm’s arm.

“In case you haven’t noticed this storm isn’t the work of the Father of Thunder.” The man said in a normal tone, that was somehow louder than the storm.  He looked up into the sky.  “They’re the work of you enemy, made in spite to bring harm to you.” He said, looking back to Erm. “That is why we need to hurry from here.”

Erm’s face was the picture of confusion, “What are you talking about, my enemy!? Who…” Before he could get it all out, something from the sky above the Inn gave him a strange feeling in the back of his head, and his hair stood on end.  Just then the man grabbed Erm and Arlain, and threw them down to the ground, jumping on top of them.

Erm heard an intense deafening boom of thunder, then the crashing of timbers all around; somehow they avoided being hit by debris.  With his ears ringing, Erm turned to take a look back at the Inn.  His eyes grew to the size of diner plates, when he saw that the roof had collapsed on top of the building, with the rest of it aflame despite the drenching downpour.

He struggled to his feet, and stared at the burning rubble of the Inn. “Uncle,” Erm yelled, as he tried to run towards the building, only to find the hand of the stranger on his shoulder, holding him back.

A lump the size of his fist tried to force its way through his throat, as he sank to his knees.  His uncle was still in there, and if this man hadn’t come so would he have been.  The thought took a while to plant itself firmly in his head, as he began to weep.

Arlain had gotten up as well.  She yelled for her father and mother, who were also in the building when it was struck, and was also on her knees rocking back and forth, sobbing deeply into her hands.  Erm tried to stop his tears while he stood and walked over to Arlain.  Trying to pull her up with his left arm, he hugged her with it when she stood.

“We need to leave now!” The man said again, in a level voice, easily heard over the storm.

Erm didn’t hesitate this time.  Fighting back tears for his uncle, he reached out for Jaidaen, motioning her to lie down. 

He directed Arlain, who was nearly hysterical with tears, over Jaidaen’s back behind him and patted the mamut’s neck.  Jaidaen rose, catching them by the bottom, gently lifting them up off the ground.

“Who are you?” Erm asked the man again.

“I am without a name,” The man said above the storm, looking Erm strait in the face.  “Have you ever heard of the na’Sehn, the Nameless?”