Chapter 5: The Well
Jirke found ways to ease his anxiousness on the 2-day ride to the town which, coincidentally, was named The Well. His bag kept him occupied for most of the ride, much to Petal's dismay. Jirke was hanging halfway out of his bag anyway, and never really could tell what faces or teases she was making to get him to come back into the carriage. His favorite was a little red wooden toy he dubbed 'a yoyo'. That kept him busy for a full day before the string broke and went rolling down the hill they were on. Next day, they arrived at The Well, and Jirke made haste to get rid of the ungainly Tankur's prone figure. He dumped it in front of the temple a little way outside the city, and knocked on the door, so at least someone would notice.
Jirke heard peals of laughter, and smiled because he knew what they were feeling at that moment. He needed it, too, because the little town of The Well almost didn't deserve to have the name of 'town' at all. There were little more than forty or fifty houses, and even these were no bigger than enough to fit the beds inside. Jirke even took note of things in the streets that were something like public kitchens that everyone could prepare food upon. Jirke said to nobody in particular, "Reminds me of a ghost town."
He shivered becasue that almost seemed too appropriate.
Jirke finished his business with the traveling family, and promised to see if he couldn't meet them up in the North, and was surprised to even get a kiss from Petal as she left for the carriage. Her father, being facetious, also decided to give Jirke a kiss, which he almost enjoyed a little more, but not in the sense you might think. Jirke patted the man on the shoulder, laughing, and went off on his way. He wiped man-spit off his face and set off for the nearest barn. Well...he thought that's what it was. It was in the center of the city, and almost seemed more dilapidated than the rest of the town. There was good reason for that. As he entered it, he could hear voices moaning and screaming, mostly something about get out, or get it out, or something like that. Jirke couldn't tell. Didn't really care for that matter.
All he knew was that there was somthing in that well that he wanted and he was going to get that wanted thing. He shut out the whining of the ghosts, for that's all it was, whining, and he stepped further into the barn. In the middle of this 'building', was the town's namesake, you could say. Jirke grinned His grin, something that only he had, and only when he was risking his life to do something. People had thought him insane, and he had scared people who had seen this face. If a person from the village walked in now, they'd probably assume he was one of the Deathlords, here to destroy their puny village. But no. It was just Jirke, and the least of the worries you had about him was losing a pursestring or getting a pocket picked.
Jirke stepped into the well and braced his hands and feet on the sides of the round walls, and let himself slide haphazardly into the darkness, whooping the whole way.
Jirke heard peals of laughter, and smiled because he knew what they were feeling at that moment. He needed it, too, because the little town of The Well almost didn't deserve to have the name of 'town' at all. There were little more than forty or fifty houses, and even these were no bigger than enough to fit the beds inside. Jirke even took note of things in the streets that were something like public kitchens that everyone could prepare food upon. Jirke said to nobody in particular, "Reminds me of a ghost town."
He shivered becasue that almost seemed too appropriate.
Jirke finished his business with the traveling family, and promised to see if he couldn't meet them up in the North, and was surprised to even get a kiss from Petal as she left for the carriage. Her father, being facetious, also decided to give Jirke a kiss, which he almost enjoyed a little more, but not in the sense you might think. Jirke patted the man on the shoulder, laughing, and went off on his way. He wiped man-spit off his face and set off for the nearest barn. Well...he thought that's what it was. It was in the center of the city, and almost seemed more dilapidated than the rest of the town. There was good reason for that. As he entered it, he could hear voices moaning and screaming, mostly something about get out, or get it out, or something like that. Jirke couldn't tell. Didn't really care for that matter.
All he knew was that there was somthing in that well that he wanted and he was going to get that wanted thing. He shut out the whining of the ghosts, for that's all it was, whining, and he stepped further into the barn. In the middle of this 'building', was the town's namesake, you could say. Jirke grinned His grin, something that only he had, and only when he was risking his life to do something. People had thought him insane, and he had scared people who had seen this face. If a person from the village walked in now, they'd probably assume he was one of the Deathlords, here to destroy their puny village. But no. It was just Jirke, and the least of the worries you had about him was losing a pursestring or getting a pocket picked.
Jirke stepped into the well and braced his hands and feet on the sides of the round walls, and let himself slide haphazardly into the darkness, whooping the whole way.