The Man Who Is Everywhere

he trout drifted beneath the surface.

Sunlight reached all the way to the pale stones on the riverbed floor, wavering across them in long ribbons as the flow moved overhead. Thin weeds bent and danced with the water, their tips brushing the current as though caught in a slow, unending breeze. Somewhere upstream, the faint shadow of a branch passed across the surface. The trout turned lazily beneath it, flicked its tail once, and settled again into the cool pocket behind a submerged rock.

The river exploded.

Water burst upward in a white sheet. Bubbles swallowed the trout, stones rolled beneath the impact, and something heavy struck the riverbed hard enough to send a muddy cloud boiling through the shallows.

“HA!”

Karneth surged upright through the spray with an axe in either hand. Nothing was attached to either of them.

The dwarf stood knee-deep in the river, soaked from the waist down, his hair plastered unevenly across his forehead while water streamed from his beard and sleeves. He stared at the place where the fish had been, then swept his gaze slowly over the surrounding current as though the river itself had cheated him.

“There’s somethin' wrong with these fish,” he announced. “Some sort of anti-dwarven enchantment. I’m sure of it.”

On the bank behind him, Gaz sat beneath the shade of a willow with his staff resting against one shoulder and a small handful of berries gathered in the fold of his robe. The scholar had been watching Karneth’s particular method of fishing for some time now and, to his credit, had allowed most of it to pass without comment. He selected another berry and studied it thoughtfully.

“You are much better at hunting horses.”

Karneth turned his head. His glare traveled the full distance between them.

Gaz quietly ate the berry.

The warrior muttered something distinctly unfriendly and returned his attention to the river. He lowered himself into what he apparently considered a position of stealth, axes held wide at either side, and began creeping upstream. Each foot came down with exaggerated care, though the water displaced by his legs left little doubt that every fish within twenty yards knew exactly where he was.

After several steps he glanced back. “You ever had problems with wildlife?”

Gaz’s amusement faded. His eyes lowered to the few berries remaining in his palm, and something in his expression went distant. The silence lasted only a moment before the wizard drew a slow breath and looked toward the river again.

“Once...”

He raised his staff, and Karneth followed the movement with his eyes.

A sphere of water rose silently from the river behind Gaz. It hung above the grass, round and impossibly still, as though the current had forgotten that particular piece of itself. Inside, a trout nearly the length of Gaz’s forearm swam in slow, bewildered circles, perfectly contained within the suspended water.

“...but not with fish.”

Karneth stared at him. “You’ve been able to do that this entire time?”

Gaz gave the end of his staff a gentle turn. The watery sphere drifted toward the bank and collapsed across the grass, depositing its occupant neatly atop four other trout already lying there.

Karneth looked at the five fish, then at Gaz, who began to stand.

“Come, friend.” The scholar brushed the grass from his robes and gathered the catch by the cord threaded through their gills. “Let’s put those fishing axes to better use. We need firewood.”

He started toward the trees.

Karneth remained in the river for several seconds more, staring at the abandoned patch of grass where five fish had apparently been accumulating while he waged war against the river. At last he climbed onto the bank without a word and followed.

It had been two days since they left the cave, and the wizard and the dwarf took it upon themselves to gather fish and meat. By the time they made their way back toward camp, the sun had begun its slow descent toward the western hills. Gaz carried the fish over one shoulder while Karneth walked beside him with a bundle of freshly split wood beneath one arm, his axes once again resting at his belt where, for the moment, they posed no further danger to the local wildlife.

The path followed the river through low grass before curving toward the stand of trees where the others had stopped for the night. Their horse—affectionately named Lilly by the young archer—appeared between the white trunks ahead, head lowered to graze, while a thin trail of smoke climbed through the branches above the campsite.

Karneth shifted the firewood beneath his arm. “You think elves eat fish?”

Gaz looked over at him.

“I’ve never met one proper before Av’elyth,” the dwarf admitted, keeping his eyes ahead. “Not close enough to ask, anyway. Didn’t know if they lived on leaves or berries or... insects?”

Gaz gave the matter considerably more thought than Karneth had probably expected. “I believe elves eat much the same things we do. Though Av’elyth will likely not be eating much tonight.”

“No.”Karneth’s expression tightened. “No, s’pose not.”

“Oesora has been able to get berry juice and water into her. For now, that will have to be enough.”

They walked a little farther in silence. Ahead, the camp resolved itself between the trees: Lunara near the fire shaping arrows with Jaeshu’s knife, Oesora beneath the largest beech with Av’elyth laid carefully beside her beneath several cloaks. Navian stood only a few feet from the rogue, using his boot to roll a fallen log into place as a makeshift bench.

Karneth watched him for a moment. “Paladin’s been quiet.”

“More than usual, yes.”

“That elf's gettin' to his head. Might be worth sayin’ something.”

Gaz glanced toward him. Karneth answered with a shrug. “He’s your brother, not mine.”

The wizard looked ahead once more.

By evening, the fire cast a broad circle of amber across the grass, catching the nearest tree trunks while leaving the world beyond them in shadow. Their chestnut mare, Lilly, had been tethered near enough to hear but far enough from the flames not to be troubled by them. Jaeshu had checked the perimeter twice before joining the others, and Av’elyth rested where the warmth could reach her without bringing her too close to the smoke.

Oesora remained nearest the elf. She had changed the bandaging around Av’elyth’s ribs before supper and covered her again beneath the cloaks. The wound no longer bled, and the priestess had managed to get more water between her lips, but Av’elyth had yet to wake. Her breathing remained unsteady. The heat beneath her skin concerned Oesora as well.

Around the fire, the others ate the fresh catch, grateful for their first full meal in days. For a while the conversation remained ordinary. Lunara complained that Karneth had cooked hers too long, and the dwarf informed her that she was welcome to ask the forest chef for another. Jaeshu ate quietly, occasionally glancing toward the darkness beyond the fire, while Oesora listened more than she spoke. The mood was almost comfortable, or as close to comfortable as any evening had been since the Silver Stag.

Gaz waited until the others had settled into their meals before turning toward his brother. “How is she?”

Navian’s gaze went at once to Av’elyth. “Oesora says the wound is holding.”

“I asked how she was.”

That silenced him.

Gaz did not press. He knew his older brother well enough to leave the space open and allow Navian to decide whether he intended to fill it. For a while the paladin merely watched the bandaged elf breathe, his supper forgotten in his hands. At last he placed it beside him.

“I should have been there, Gaz.”

Gaz’s expression softened. “Navian—”

“She came with us because I asked her to.” Navian kept his eyes on the elf as he spoke, the words carrying farther around the fire than he seemed to realize. Oesora looked up from Av’elyth’s side. One by one, the others quieted as well, until what had begun as a question between brothers no longer belonged only to them.

Oesora shook her head. “She could have left us after the tavern. So could I.”

“Av’elyth stayed because she chose to,” said Karneth. “An elven rogue is not a thing easily kept against its will.”

Navian said nothing.

The priestess set the pitcher of water aside. “When the cave was attacked, I—”

“We went too far.” Navian looked up before she could finish. “We took too long. We were careless. And when it mattered, I wasn’t there.”

Oesora held his gaze for a moment before resting one hand across the folded cloth in her lap. “Av’elyth made her own choice to remain with us. So did Karneth. So did Jaeshu. You cannot turn her choice into your guilt.”

A throat cleared.

“There is a pattern, though.”

Jaeshu sat on the opposite side of the fire, one knee raised, forearm resting loosely across it. Navian turned toward him.

“What?”

“The Silver Stag. The cave.”

The warmth around the fire seemed to thin. Lunara’s expression changed immediately. “...the marketplace.”

Jaeshu gave a small nod. “Three times now the danger changed before any of you changed with it. Three times people died or nearly died because what you expected and what actually happened were not the same thing.”

Navian studied him across the flames. “The cave, I will grant. We went too far and left ourselves divided. That was my mistake.”

Jaeshu gave the smallest nod.

“But that tavern?” Navian continued. “No one could have seen that coming, Jaeshu. We knew something was nearby. We posted watches. We stayed inside. They attacked with numbers and coordination none of us had seen before.”

“I know.”

The answer caught Navian visibly off guard.

Jaeshu shifted his forearm across his raised knee. “You keep answering as though predicting the danger is the point. It isn’t. You were surprised at the Silver Stag. Fine. Then the marketplace happened. Then the cave. At some point, being surprised stops being unusual and becomes the pattern.”

Gaz’s expression hardened. “The marketplace was Tony. You know that. And if I recall, all you did was watch from atop a wall.”

“Yes.” Jaeshu looked toward him. “I’m not disputing that.”

“Then what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m simply saying that since you decided you are the one leading—”

“I didn’t,” Navian snapped.

Jaeshu regarded him for a moment. “—You make the choice, we move. You stop, we stop. You say Caerhaven, and seven people walk toward Caerhaven. Call it whatever you like. The lives saved become yours.” His eyes flicked briefly toward Av’elyth beneath the cloaks. “As do the deaths.”

Lunara’s expression tightened. “Well, that’s a convenient place to stand. Hand out all the judgment, carry none of the burden.”

“True.” Jaeshu gave a small shrug. “But I joined you only days ago. No raven was sent for me. I owe none of you command. You need my expertise; I need the strength you bring. That is the agreement as I see it.”

Karneth grunted from beside the fire. “Don’t know what half of that means,” he muttered, “but I think I agree with him.”

Navian looked toward the dwarf, then back at Jaeshu. “He is saying that I should do better at keeping us alive so he can hide in our shadows and smoke his pipe.”

Jaeshu shrugged.

Karneth shifted where he sat. “You planning on picking a damn fight with him too, ranger?”

“Oh, no.” A short laugh escaped the ranger. “Rogues are fun. But I’m not stupid enough to fight a paladin.”

The dwarf’s eyebrows rose.

Navian watched the fire. “Then perhaps you should stop starting fights you can’t win.”

Jaeshu’s expression barely changed. “But alas, that seems to be the mantra for this entire group.”

Gaz straightened. “All right, I think—”

A sound reached them from beyond the trees.

Everyone stopped.

The noise came again from somewhere along the road: the faint complaint of wood under weight, distant enough to be uncertain but near enough that Navian was already standing. Jaeshu rose immediately after him, hand settling on the hilt of his sword, while Lunara reached for her bow and Gaz took up his staff.

Karneth seized one of his axes. Oesora caught the handle before he could raise it.

He looked down at her hand.

They listened.

Hooves. Slow and steady.

Oesora gave the dwarf a knowing look. He frowned and dropped his axe onto the dirt.

Then came the rattle of wheels.

A small light appeared beyond the trees. It moved gradually toward them, disappearing once behind a rise in the road before returning brighter than before. Their horse Lilly shifted behind the camp, giving a low uneasy snort. Navian moved several steps forward while Jaeshu slipped toward the edge of the firelight.

The lantern came bobbing around the bend.

A grey mare emerged beneath it, harnessed to a wagon crowded with crates, bundles, rolled cloth, jars, and hanging cookware that chimed softly with every rut in the road. A man dressed in dark maroon sat at the reins.

Lunara lowered her bow and narrowed her eyes. For a moment she simply stared at him.

Then her entire expression changed.

“...Pedro?”

The merchant drew lightly on the reins and brought the wagon to a stop beside the road. Even in the uneven lantern light, his smile was easy to recognize. “Well, well,” he said, looking over the camp. “This is unexpected.”

"Pedro!"

Lunara was already walking toward him. Pedro climbed down from the wagon, and by the time she reached him, the tension from the argument around the fire had disappeared from her shoulders.

The two spoke with the ease of people who had met before and remembered each other well. Pedro asked how Lunara had managed to find herself this far from where he had last seen her; she demanded much the same explanation from him. Neither seemed particularly dissatisfied by the coincidence.

A few yards away, Navian watched the reunion with grave suspicion.

“Pedro Melgrim,” he groaned. “I am wary of anyone possessing that level of charm.”

Gaz chuckled.

Lunara did not hear him. She was still talking with Pedro, smiling as she answered something he had said, the familiarity between them evident enough that neither brother needed to speculate aloud.

Eventually the traveling merchant’s attention drifted past her toward the camp. His smile faded when he noticed the still figure beneath the cloaks.

“What happened to your companion?”

Lunara glanced back toward the fire. “That’s Av’elyth. Goblins got to her. Some shadow hounds. North by the Blue Brea Woods.”

Pedro leaned slightly to see the elf more clearly, his eyes lingering on her motionless form. “She’s alive?”

“For now.” Lunara’s voice had lost all trace of playfulness. “Our priestess has done everything she can, but our elf still hasn’t woken.”

“An elf, you say.”

Pedro considered that for only a moment before raising one finger, as though some half-remembered thought had just caught up with him. “One moment.”

He turned toward the rear of the wagon, and Lunara followed at once. “What are you—?”

Pedro pulled back the canvas and searched among the crates with the confidence of a man who knew precisely where every impossible thing in the wagon had been buried. He moved several wrapped bundles aside, shifted a small wooden box, and finally withdrew a bottle sealed with dark wax.

Oesora met them as he returned. Pedro handed the bottle to her, and the priestess turned it slowly in her hand before loosening the seal and testing its scent.

Her eyes lifted toward him. “This should help her.”

“That is the idea,” Pedro said with a smile. “Stir it into a warm—but not hot—tea for now, until she can drink on her own.”

Lunara’s hand went instinctively to the pouch at her waist. “How much?”

“No, no.” He shook his head before she could open it. “Keep it, my dear.”

Her fingers stopped against the leather. “Pedro,” she sang.

“I mean it.” His attention shifted briefly beyond her toward Av’elyth. “It’s for your friend. And your friends are my friends.”

Lunara looked at him for a moment, her hand still resting against the unopened pouch.

“Thank you.”

“Ah, and now”—Pedro’s smile returned, warmer now—“you owe me a drink sometime.”

A short distance behind her, Navian nudged Gaz with his elbow. The brothers exchanged a look and rolled their eyes.

Lunara turned just in time to catch them.

Both men immediately discovered something fascinating in the surrounding countryside.

The rose color rising into the young archer’s cheeks ruined any hope of convincing them they had imagined what they were seeing. Pedro, mercifully, busied himself with the wagon and granted her the dignity of pretending none of it had happened.

Navian eventually stepped closer, the amusement leaving him as his attention returned to the bottle in Oesora’s hand.

“So what is it? Will it last until Caerhaven?”

“Oh, that?” Pedro glanced east, following the dark ribbon of road as it disappeared around the bend beneath the moonlight. “Crushed blooms of the Calder Papos, from the elven shores of Iast’Ogan. That tincture should take especially well with her.” He kissed his fingertips with delight.

Navian studied him. “For how long?”

Pedro turned back.

“Precisely that long.”

The merchant pointed along the road. “Stay on this path. Do not take the southern fork when you reach it tomorrow. That would take you to The Ferraro.” He clicked his tongue several times. “Rough tides. Bad news. Keep northeast and you should see Caerhaven before sunset.”

“Tomorrow?” Navian asked.

“Tomorrow.”

For a moment no one seemed to have anything to say to that. Caerhaven had spent so long existing as a destination somewhere ahead of them that hearing the distance reduced to a single night felt almost strange. Not another week of hills. Not another unknown stretch of road.

Tomorrow.

Pedro climbed back onto the wagon and gathered the reins. The wood creaked beneath his weight, vials and metal softly clinking somewhere behind him while the lantern overhead swayed in a gentle wash of lamplight. Farewells passed easily enough between him and the others, though Lunara lingered beside the grey mare for a few seconds longer than anyone else.

Pedro looked down at her. “Take care of yourself, young archer of Bahlara.”

She smiled. “You too.”

The mare started forward. The wagon gave a small jump as its wheels caught the road, then followed, the candle lamp swaying above it while Pedro disappeared into the darkness. Lunara remained where she was until the light dwindled between the trees, passed beyond the horizon, and finally vanished altogether.

Only then did she walk back to camp.

Karneth looked at her.

Lunara pointed an arrow at him before he could open his mouth.

The dwarf wisely chose life.

Oesora was already kneeling beside Av’elyth. She poured a small measure of Pedro’s medicine into a cup and mixed it into hot tea while Navian lowered himself beside them. The paladin raised the elf carefully, supporting her while Oesora touched the cup to her lips. At first the liquid merely rested there. Oesora waited, tried again, and this time Av’elyth swallowed. Some of the tension left the rogue’s face as Navian lowered her gently back beneath the cloaks, her breathing settling into a softer, easier rhythm.

Lunara glanced once more toward the darkness where Pedro’s wagon had disappeared.

Navian stood and stretched the stiffness from his shoulder. “We should sleep while we can. Tomorrow gets us to Caerhaven.”

No one argued. Karneth settled near the fire, arranging his cloak beneath his head before rolling onto one shoulder. Jaeshu chose a place nearer the edge of camp where the road would remain within earshot, while Gaz lowered himself beside one of the trees with his staff close at hand. Oesora stayed beside Av’elyth, unwilling to move farther than an arm’s reach even for sleep.

Lunara picked up her bow. “I’ll take first watch.”

“Someone can’t sleep now,” Gaz whispered as he passed her, smiling.

The archer stooped for a rock and threw it.

It was a rare miss.

Gaz chuckled as he continued around the fire, wisely making no further observations.

Lunara took Lilly’s reins and led her toward the edge of camp, where she settled beneath the nearest tree with the bow resting across her knees. The night had grown cool beside the river. Behind her, the fire sank lower as voices disappeared one by one, and somewhere beyond the trees a distant animal called once across the open land before falling silent.

She kept her eyes on the road. There was no lantern there anymore. Only darkness.

The young archer of Bahlara smiled anyway.