The silent calm of the Deep Woods permeates through the area, every quiet crunch of leaf or whisper of the wind is heightened by latent moisture in the air. Viktor walks with casual purpose, his trusty mace in hand, but loose and at ease, as he guides the merchant Alphonse through the foliage. Anywhere else in the woods and the pair would have to walk with careful steps, lest they slip on the moss which covers every inch of soil on the forest floor. Here, however, they follow an old, yet still well-used game trail that has been worn down to bare dirt and the occasional fallen branch.
“These woods, they’re like the fairy tales my mother used to tell me.” Alphonse ponders aloud, his gaze tracing along the various species of flora. The grey and gloomy sky sets the forest in a dreary light, yet despite this, life clearly prevails all around. The base of many trees sees bioluminescent fungi sprouting from dirt between the roots, their caps casting small but bright dots of pink, cyan, and green betwixt the foliage.
Viktor looks out too, following the gaze of the merchant and peering upwards at the intricate glowing webs, carefully crafted by spiders found nowhere else in the world. Their dazzling green lines sparkle with a sticky fluid, luring insects that hide among the leaves, while carnivorous plants hang from dark branches to catch the insects that land in the false comfort of shadow. Floating in the dark expanse between the canopy and the forest floor are clouds and clusters of glowing spores, with brightly-lit insects dancing through the air around them. Nowhere else has Viktor seen a forest that appeals so heavily to one’s own fantasies. To say the forest looks like the home of a hidden fairy village or mysterious magical plants would be an entirely accurate description of such a place.
A crack of thunder rips away the attention of the adventurer and the merchant, their eyes darting to the sky. “That one sounded closer… Do you think it might actually rain here?” Alphonse asks nervously, his voice somewhat shaken by the surprise and the prospect of wetting his supplies. His grip on the straps of his oversized merchant’s pack tightens to a squeeze.
“Yes.” Viktor replies, simply yet confidently. “Let’s hurry along the path. If we’re lucky, we might find an abandoned cabin or cave to take shelter in.” The adventurer’s gruff voice is muffled by the moisture in the air, natural to the forest yet amplified by the oncoming storm. The adventurer presses onwards with more drive as he leads Alphonse along the path.
Soon enough, Viktor halts the pair, pointing away from the path towards a grey clearing and a rocky opening. “A cave. Come on, let’s go get out of the open before your supplies turn sodden.” He urges, entirely cool and collected while pushing aside bushes and brambles so that he and Alphonse can pass through the brush. From beyond, the cave appears as nothing more than a derelict old hole in the ground. The opening is wide and level, and the moss that covers every inch of the forest beyond seems to stay away from the rocky surface surrounding the cave mouth. Viktor walks inside, his eyes darting around to every dimly lit stalagmite in case of dangers lurking inside. When he sees nothing, he gives the all-clear for Alphonse to follow.
Stepping beyond the threshold of the forest and into the cave, Alphonse’s gaze sweeps curiously over the cave’s interior before he haphazardly relieves himself of his heavy merchant’s pack, placing it on the floor against the cave wall. Its contents clack and tink against each other inside the bag, but otherwise fall silent as they’re laid on the ground. Another crack of thunder among dozens signifies the start of the downpour, and within moments, the rain pours over the forest like a curtain of fine silk, bending and adjusting for every tree so to infiltrate every opening that leads to the floor beyond. From within the cave, however, it is simply a spectacle. Flat and level, the cave roof extends far enough to keep the inside completely dry, and the lack of a downward slope prevents water from rushing in.
Viktor probes further into the cave, leaving Alphonse near the entrance, and finding it to be a simple ovular chamber with no other paths in. Only a rough stone pillar lying in the center of the room breaks up the view from front to back, and an ancient, naturally formed plinth rests at the bottom of the pillar, dusty and flat. As Viktor looks around, he finds the remains of a campsite, the tent torn and strewn about the cave floor and wall. A rusty and dented cooking pot sits on a pile of blackened stones, and any signs of life having been there recently are entirely absent.
Further in, a pair of shortswords stands embedded in the stone, blades crossed as if to signify an ancient union. Further still, the ground is decorated with old bloodstains and gashes in the rock itself. Some kind of battle took place in this spot, and yet despite all of these things, these different remnants of life seem unrelated to each other. How strange it is that such an insignificant and forgotten old crevice in the earth would bear such history, entirely forgotten by time.
Viktor’s musings are cut short, however, when his attention is pulled to a wall near the cave mouth by a startled voice. “Viktor? Come… come here, would you?” Alphonse calls. His voice is high and ghastly, like he’s seen a ghost, and he appears shaken, though not in any danger as he peers down at the floor. Viktor approaches him casually, although with a slight haste in his step, before standing next to the merchant and following his gaze downwards.
There, sitting on the cold stone floor with its back against the wall, is an old, web-strewn skeleton. Viktor’s expression darkens as he gazes down at the unfortunate soul, its last moments spent in the darkness of a place abandoned by time. Despite its apparent age, the skeleton remains largely intact, with rubble and bone shards dotting the floor around it, and spiderwebs filling the space between its ribs. It could have been here for decades, and it looks like it certainly has.
“What… do we do…?” Alphonse asks tentatively, his expression one of worry and uncertainty, along with the innate fear of a person not yet acquainted with the presence of death. There are no other bodies within the cave, none that Viktor had seen during his brief investigation at least, and as an adventurer, he feels his heart pulling him to help, however it is that one might be expected to help an already deceased victim.
Clamped around the ankle of the skeleton’s left leg rests a rusty beartrap, a tool of death, made for death, and yet not likely made for this person’s death. Viktor sighs internally, sympathy reigning over his mind as he imagines the unfortunate circumstance that would lead one to be trapped inescapably in the darkness of a cave, entirely by accident. It’s incredibly cruel, like the person had simply stumbled into it, and yet they did not survive to learn from their mistake.
As the rain pours and the thunder hammers down on the freedom beyond the cave, just a few yards from the unfortunate soul, Viktor slowly kneels down. “Help me get this trap off of them.” He says calmly, with a hint of melancholy in his voice, hoping Alphonse will understand and aid him. With no reason to say no, Alphonse obliges, taking one jaw of the worn old trap in hand. With a strong pull from both men, the ancient metal finally gives, and the jaws of death snap apart with a loud crack.
Alphonse holds his half confusedly, not sure what to do with it. “Ehm… Why exactly did we do that?” He asks, tentative and unaware. To him, though he does not know Viktor well, he can see no reason why the adventurer would want to remove this trap. It’s not as though he can save this person any longer.
“It’s the duty of an adventurer, a pioneer, to aid those in need.” Viktor says quietly. “And… the dead shouldn’t be burdened with such things as this.” He rises to his feet and tosses his half of the trap to the ground before reaching down towards the body. Alphonse watches curiously, that same mortal fear on his face, though lessened slightly as he is introduced with the cruelty of death for the first time.
Viktor slowly, carefully collects the ancient body into his arms, being sure not to damage what’s left as he stands and turns towards the deeper area of the cave. Walking forwards, the cobwebs hang loosely from the old bones as they’re moved for the first time in years, Viktor soon reaches the stone plinth in the center of the cave. As he stands there, above the soon-to-be final resting place of this person forgotten by time, he leans forwards to meticulously lay the figure atop the pedestal, placing its hands on its chest with its bony fingers interlocked to ensure a comfortable rest.
Alphonse watches on with solemn respect mixed with unsure sorrow and concern. Viktor draws two gold coins from his pouch, placing one within each hollow eye socket, before whispering what the merchant can only assume to be some kind of unfamiliar burial rite. Not a word is exchanged as Viktor performs his duty as an adventurer, and soon he turns back to Alphonse with a small, melancholic smile on his face.
The sleeping figure behind him appearing as old as the cave itself, Viktor speaks with quiet content, “Shall we wait out the storm then, Alphonse? It likely won’t let up any time soon.” However, the answer to that question is already obvious since the merchant has no other choice, so Viktor walks calmly past Alphonse to sit just beneath the lip of the cave. The wall of water falls just feet before him as he gazes out at the Deep Woods beyond, the glow of mushrooms and spiderwebs forming a collage of colors through the rain.
To Alphonse, it is like he’s just seen something from another religion. Like watching someone pray or worship another god which he is not familiar with, performing it in such a way that makes little sense to him. Yet he still understands the importance of the interaction and so, out of respect for Viktor, and apparently the dead traveler, he opts to keep his questions to himself. Glancing back again at the sleeping figure of bones resting on the rocky bed a short distance away, he turns to his pack and walks off. Perhaps Viktor is right. Now is a good time to sit and wait out the rain.
–
AJ Bacca is a student currently attending college in Florida, hoping to learn to write fictions and publish stories that he has envisioned. Working towards his AA degree, AJ has come up with all sorts of fictional stories in his free time and is attempting to learn to put them to paper.
© 2024, AJ Bacca
Halfway Down the Stairs 