My Name Is Lost Read online

  A crate marked ‘Archery’ held several beautiful longbows, bowstrings, quiver, and missiles. I grabbed a bow, several spare strings, a quiver in which to keep the variety of target, broadhead, and fowling arrows I had chosen.

  A box labeled ‘Knives’ contained an assortment of blades, including some well-balanced daggers. Several of those and their sheaths ended up secreted under my new set of clothes. After some thought, I included a broader and sturdy chopper. Since I did not know where I was going to end up, the option of a blade that would quickly chop through underbrush seemed to be prudent. Too heavy and awkward for me to carry on an ongoing basis, I vowed to tuck it into my baggage.

  After getting clothed and armed, I felt much more relaxed and happy. All that was left to grab was some food and water for an extended trip. There were backpacks available, and I quickly filled one with some food that didn’t look too inedible and a few water flasks. Looking around, I made a note of where all the items were distributed so that if I came back here in a hurry, I would know from where to grab things.

  Mentally running down a list of critical items, I realized that I was prepared to the best of my ability to project my needs. Suddenly eager to be exploring, I headed for the door. Excitement rose in me like a bubbling fountain, and the sense of adventure lent speed to my steps.

  Exiting the chamber, I once again checked both ways before entering the hallway. I headed east, away from the place where I had awakened. I thought to myself, It was time to get some distance between my former captors and me.

  It didn’t take too long for me to cover the distance to the end of the tunnel. Slowing down as I got close, I realized that there was a sharp left turn, with another of the dim lights just before the bend. Just below the light fixture, I could see a labeled diagram of the exit area.

  The notes below the sign, again written in several languages, said, ‘The door will not be visible when in the cave. The opening mechanism consists of a pressure plate that can be activated by pressing a small oval stone above the door.’ It seems simple enough, I thought and moved on.

  Beyond the left turn of the hall, there were no more artificial lamps. The light grew dimmer as I moved toward the end of the passageway. I could see that my way terminated in a door just like the diagram had outlined.

  Reaching up and pushing the small oval stone, I had to dodge back a bit as the door moved into the cave toward me about a foot, clearing the frame. Watching in wonder, I saw that the door itself was over a foot thick, and reinforced between the surface plates with light-absorbing black metal.

  The complex mechanism then pivoted the door to swing away from me, clearing the opening. Like the other doors in this area, the operating mechanism worked very quietly. After I stepped through the doorway, the portal slid shut behind me with the reverse of the two-step process.

  Glancing around quickly, I made a note of the location of the stone on the outside as well. It would not be smart to forget how to get into the secret facility if I needed to return.

  The light of day was blinding, even filtered by the trees outside the cave and the cave walls themselves. My eyes adjusted quickly to the sunlight, even through the moisture that sprung from my tear ducts.

  The lack of head pain was almost euphoric, filling me with confidence. There were still some minor aches and pains coming from my legs and ribs, but compared to earlier, they were not significant.

  Quietly moving to the cave mouth, I checked to see if I could sense anyone nearby. No one was visible, and I could not hear any noise that a human would make.

  Exploring my other senses, I took a quick sniff of the air and could detect no human presence nearby. Again, I was not sure how I would know. Something I’d forgotten told me it was safe. Hoping that instinct was correct, I set off into the fading sunlight, as the sun started to dip below the horizon behind me.

  Chapter 3 – Farmer in the Dell

  Seen one forest, you have seen them all, I thought to myself. Well, no, actually probably not, but that adage came to mind after walking several hours and many miles. There was no memory of me ever walking through a forest at night, but that expression popped into my head all the same.

  It was full dark, with no moon to illuminate the woods, and yet the starlight seemed to be enough for me. Indeed, to my eyes, it seemed like it was still daytime. The wandering nocturnal animals kept clear of me, even the predators. The herbivores ignored me unless I got too close, then they broke cover and ran. It was as if the world was mine, no one to confront me and everyone making way for my progress.

  Following a trail that deer evidently used, I was making good time, even while going nowhere that I knew. The fresh air felt good against my skin, though a bit cold. Fortunately, the clothes I’d chosen were keeping me warm.

  Then, on the wind, I smelled the smoke of a wood fire, the scent of dogs, and some unrecognized food cooking. I didn’t have to change course to head toward the smells since the wind was blowing the scent directly into my face.

  A few minutes later, I came to a stone fence. The deer trail went both ways, running parallel to the stone structure. Neither direction showed the concentrated use that the path I was on had, which I took to mean that there was food for the deer in multiple directions.

  Looking over the five-foot stone wall, I saw evidence of the recent harvest in the shorn fields and the stubble of the crops. I had no problems seeing over the top of the rock barrier, my eyes high enough to turn for comprehensive information gathering, and the tip of my shoulder rising an inch or two above the top surface.

  Measuring my body against that fence, I realized that I was a little more than 6 feet tall. Moving automatically, I jumped to the top of the wall in one hop, proving to myself that when I was not fighting massive injuries that my body was in excellent physical condition. It also told me that I was evidently trained for some purpose requiring agility.

  The jump had felt effortless, and I had not strained at all while performing that maneuver. That told me that I could probably go a bit higher from a standing position. With a running start, I probably could clear 12-15 feet with ease. Being able to do that did not strike me as something ordinary people could do, but again, I was accepting the fact that I could do things most people weren’t able to do.

  A short distance away, I saw a farmhouse and barn. Lying near to the house and out of the wind, I could see what appeared to be three large guard dogs sleeping. The scene was quiet, and I found myself reluctant to disturb the peaceful setting, but I felt compelled to make contact with another human being.

  The windows from the house were dark except for a dimly lit one, probably from the cooking fire. Jumping down from the wall, I moved silently toward the house.

  The dogs woke when I was about fifteen feet away from the door and started the usual aggressive barking. I was expecting that, but it was still necessary for me to squash down the immediate urge to kill them. Showing that they were smart as well as conscientious, the dogs advanced a few steps toward me and spread out.

  It took about five seconds for the farmer to light a lamp, which indicated he was a light sleeper and kept things prepared for unexpected and unwelcome visitors. At that time, the wind shifted so that it was blowing from behind me, and the dogs finally caught my scent. Immediately, they quieted down, one going so far as to sit. All three of them continued to observe me, ready to do their job.

  I headed for the door to knock on it, winning a race with the house occupant to that portal by a few seconds. At the sound of my tapping announcement, the door opened an inch, and a large man glared through the opening, which was secured by a thick chain.

  “What do you want?” he grunted.

  “A bit of food, some water, and some information,” was my reply. “But I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer in exchange,” I finished and smiled ruefully.

  “Heh, well, at least you’re honest,” he said. “Kraken, Titan, and Jawbone seem to trust you, so hold on a second.” He shut the door, and th
ere was the sound of the chain rattling, and the door reopened, fully this time.

  Big and tough, but not a fighter, I thought to myself as I saw my host. Dressed in a loose shirt and pants that had been obviously donned quickly from the way his shirttail had been caught up on the side, the large muscled man was impressive. Looking beyond him into the chamber, I could see the kitchen in the dim light provided by the cook fire. I could also tell that this was the source of the appetizing smells that I had been sensing for the last several miles, and my mouth watered.

  “Wipe your shoes there,” the large man said, pointing at a brush fastened to the floor by the doorstep. “Then come in. I’ll get another light, some water, and food. My name’s Delman.” Without another word, the farmer turned and left the room, moving quickly through a doorway on the opposite wall.

  Wiping my feet, carefully, and stepping into the kitchen, I almost called out to him that I didn’t need the light, but thought better of that. I had to keep reminding myself not to give others more information about my capabilities than absolutely necessary.

  I hung my bow and swords on the cloak hooks that I saw next to the door. The delicious smell of the stew in the enclosed room was torture, and I tried to distract myself while waiting for Delman to reappear.

  Glancing about the kitchen, I saw that in addition to the fireplace, there was a small table with three chairs, all well-made and well used. There were a couple of counters for food prep, almost painfully clean and clear of any clutter. A water pump with a washtub under it was located by a window.

  This was all pleasant, but I was most impressed by the twelve cabinets that adorn the walls. Beautifully made and finished with painstaking care, they looked like the work of a master craftsman. This man has unanticipated talents, I thought to myself.

  Delman came back into the room and put a lamp on the table. Moving over to one of the cupboards, he pulled out a couple of bowls and retrieved two spoons and a ladle from a flatware chest. Still, without saying a word, the large man filled two dishes and set them on the table.

  The farmer indicated I should have a seat, so I moved to the table and waited for him. After getting two glasses from another cabinet, he used the pump to fill them and handed me one, retaining the others. When he went to sit down, I took my seat also. “It’s customary to give me your name, stranger,” he said after we’d both taken a few spoonfuls of the stew.

  “I would, but I don’t know who I am,” was my reply. My host must have been convinced that I was telling the truth because he didn’t ask again. My unhappiness and pain must have been present in my voice. I certainly felt them like an unpleasant lightning bolt that punched me in the chest.

  “Heh. Well, welcome to the outskirts of Delton, and no, it wasn’t named for my family or me,” Delman said, laughing. “There’s not much to see there, but it has a few stores, houses, temples, and the usual.”

  I smiled pleasantly but was unsure what else to contribute to the conversation. It was like traveling through strange terrain with my eyes bound in a cloth. I did not know where the dangerous places were located, and that meant avoiding them would be difficult. Unsure of what topics to open up, I chose to stay silent.

  After waiting for me to say something for a few seconds, Delman continued, “from the size and apparent weight of your pack, it would seem that you probably have most of your base survival supplies, with the possible exception of money. The people in the town are generally friendly, but they don’t much like our type. Still, they won’t try to kill you just for being different.”

  “Okay, I said, rather curiously. “What is ‘our type?’”

  “Faeblood,” came Delman’s unexpected response. “I recognize your build, and the eyes and ears are dead giveaways. Both you and I look pretty typical for a half-blood.”

  I was half-Fae. Well, that explained a few things, an unbidden thought popped into my head. Thinking back just a short time ago, when I’d jumped to the top of the wall, there had been no pain, no ache, and only a slight strain.

  The Fae were known as rapid healers and could see in the dark, so that matched my experiences. They were known for other things too, many less savory than those minor abilities. I wondered which ones I’d forgotten, but that did possibly explain why I’d been in prison.

  “So, a touch of amnesia, eh?” he continued. “Well, after you finish eating, there’s a couch in the next room. Make yourself comfortable, and we can talk more in the morning. I’ve been harvesting my crops all week and just finished yesterday. I’m a bit sleepy too. I’ll be going to town after dawn to sell the extras. If you’ve no objection, I’d prefer to talk on the way there.”

  “Talking on the way to town sounds good,” was my reply. “I need to think about things for a bit.”

  “Fair enough. See you in the morning.”

  Chapter 4 – Wagon Ride

  Noises came from Delman’s bedroom at dawn. I hadn’t slept a wink and yet felt no worse for it. Apparently, my body had a lot of stamina, and I did not need much sleep. Delman probably had not slept either, but neither of us commented on it. He had given me space to think and to rest, something for which I was most grateful.

  Breakfast was pretty basic food but pleasant, consisting of fresh bread, butter, and strawberry jam. Neither one of us was in the mood to talk much, so it was a silent meal, but the companionship felt good.

  Without a word, I help the farmer clean up the kitchen and put the dishes away. As Delman went to make his preparations, I rearmed myself with my pair of swords before grabbing my bow and quiver.

  The farmer had a small stack of bags for whatever he was going to purchase in town, but I knew that he was going to want to get his excess produce loaded up as soon as possible. As I had suspected, he headed for the door immediately, murmuring to me, “It is time to get the wagon loaded and take off for town. Even though it is relatively close, the journey will still take us a while. I prefer to get my business taken care of and still get back here when there is still some light. Too many things happen to people returning home after selling goods in town, and I do not want to overly tempt someone to attack me.”

  As he walked over to the barn, Delman picked up three short sticks. In the time that we covered the short distance from the house to the barn doors, the farmer threw them for his dogs. The animals were thrilled, clearly enjoying the activity as they bounded after the thrown objects and happily brought them back to Delman to throw again.

  “They are very good dogs,” he said, “They helped to keep both me and my property safe, and they are good companionship too.”

  In the barn, the farmer directed me to load the wagon with baskets of vegetables while he got a couple of old horses hitched up to the front traces. I heard him murmuring to them as he worked, and noticed that he had pats and treats for them. This is a man that loves animals. Wonder how he does with people.

  I loaded up the wagon quickly, moving smoothly and well. There was not even a twinge of pain which pleased me greatly. The Fae in my heritage helped me heal quickly, which was a blessing in many ways. I still felt angry and exposed to an unknown enemy, but apparently, my nature was such that I could also appreciate the good things in my existence.

  The two of us led the horses out of the barn, and I climbed up onto the passenger side of the wagon while Delman shut the big barn doors. Laughing again at something humorous in his own mind, he said, “Always close the barn doors after the horse has gotten out.” Climbing onto the seat while still chuckling, he flicked the reins, and we headed to Delton.

  We had barely gotten on the road when the farmer turned to me with a serious expression. “Let me tell you a few things,” Delman said. “You’re Fae tainted, and that means you bear the burden of some of their abilities and talents. Nightvision, eidetic memory, and heightened hearing, count as the least of the capabilities you might have. I have those and a ‘green thumb’ also. Thanks to the affinity for growing things, I have never gone hungry.”

  “That sounds
perfect for a farmer. I bet your crops grow when no one else’s do.”

  “Yes, and that occasionally causes problems. But everyone’s abilities are different. You’ll have to discover what else you can do on your own. Based on the weapons you’re carrying, you were probably a warrior, prior to…,” he trailed off unhappily.

  “Prior to what?” I asked.

  Delman seemed a bit sad as he replied, “Well, you’re not the first person with missing memories to travel by my farm in the last decade. There have been two others. Unfortunately, Ironwood soldiers were quick to recapture them. The two seemed unable to change their nature and caused some issues which brought the law quickly to this area. Those of us that live here, human and Fae alike, prefer you don’t do the same. There is already enough trouble around here, given the nightly raids by the ‘Things.’”

  “Things?”

  “It happens about three or four times a year. Nobody’s seen anything, but there are huge footprints in the dirt in the morning, and usually, a cow is missing. The town tried to keep a person on watch, but after the first two people disappeared along with the cow, they stopped doing that. The raids have been going on for about a decade.”

  “Wow. So two people and thirty to forty cows. They haven’t hired anyone to protect their herd?” I asked in disbelief.

  Delman angrily replied, “It is too expensive to hire that type of person, and the local Lord is not interested as long as we pay the taxes on time and in full. I help out the village with my minor plant talent, so the town isn’t starving. The cows are a luxury, and losing three to four a year isn’t worth the Lord investing in a garrison of soldiers to protect against an infrequent raider.”

  “Still, it doesn’t seem right.”

  “Nope, it isn’t, but I’m not cut out to argue with them, raider or Lord. You might be, depending on how good you are with the weapons you are carrying.”