Interview with a Wanderer
I find myself appearing just outside a roadside tavern with a sign over the door that proclaims it as "Laman's Ladle.” It's a small, shabby sort of place, but cheerful. As I enter, there's a stone fireplace blazing on my right, and to my left is a rickety-looking staircase that presumably leads to rentable bedrooms. At the back is the bar, behind which is a burly (but somewhat overweight) man with a large beard and a dirty apron. He is friendly and roars a loud, friendly greeting to every customer who comes through the door. The main room has a dirt floor, strewn with a layer of straw, plus some dried herbs mixed in to help mitigate the whiff of the road-weary guests. There are several tables–too many, in fact, for the room's size. Luckily, the waiter is a bean-thin man with long, wiry arms who has no trouble winding his way through the mess. The guests are numerous tonight. Candles glow on nearly every table, but one party in particular draws my attention. Near the fireplace is gathered a party of six—all men but one. There are two human men—brothers, from the looks of things. There is also an elf, a dwarf, and a curious creature with dark, red-brown skin, gold eyes, and hair like blades of green grass. Curious or not, this creature, along with his other male companions, seems perfectly easy in the coarse setting. The same cannot be said for the girl, however. She is sitting at a corner of the table, a forced smile on her face and her arms tightly folded. She has blond hair—draped over her shoulder in a single braid—blue eyes, and looks to be about seventeen years old. When she sees me, her eyes light up a bit—I realize I am the only other woman present. She does not look as though she was expecting me, but when the wiry-armed waiter directs me to one of the few vacant tables, she hesitates only for a second before hustling over.
“Hi.” Her greeting is both shy and enthusiastic.
“Hello,” I return the greeting. “I’m glad you came over, I’m actually a reporter with the InterFiction Gazette and I was hoping to get a chance to interview you.”
“Me?” Her eyes widen a bit. “All right.”
I take out my trusty notebook. “Can I ask your name?”
“Atia Morren,” she replies.
“And how old are you?” I ask.
“Seventeen. Eighteen next month,” she quickly adds.
She’s starting to look nervous, like maybe she regrets coming over to talk to me. So I smile encouragingly. “Can you tell me and my readers a little bit about yourself. What sorts of things are you good at? What do you like to do in your free time?”
“Oh, um,” she bites her lip. "I'm a wanderer. I've just joined that band over there"—she points toward her five companions—"and we're going on a quest to the Scadkai forest. And before you ask, yes, it's dangerous, but I can handle it. Elsvener and Uelin have been there before, so we'll be all right."
“That’s good to hear. You all look like you can handle yourselves,” I reply. “Can you tell me more about this world? Where do you live? What’s it like there?”
A flash of guilt enters Atia's eyes. "Where do I live? Oh, well, I used to live in Chesstel. It's a small village, so you've probably never heard of it. It's a pleasant enough place, though, if you like that sort of thing. Small, quiet villages, I mean."
“Sounds nice,” I muse, jotting down notes. “How about attire? What do you generally like to wear for clothes?”
This question makes her smile. "I'm not rich enough to be that picky, honestly. I have a dark green linen dress that I love, but I obviously left that home. I usually only wear it for parties. I like my vests, but as you see"—she gestures to the ugly, oversized leather jerkin she's wearing over her cotton blouse—"I left those home, too. I figured if I was going to be sword fighting, I should probably wear the closest thing to armor I could find. And ugly as it is, this was the closest thing I could find."
“Is there anything you’d like to change about your present circumstances?”
She hesitates, glances back at her companions, and then sighs. "Is there ever. I'd change the fact that I'm actually not a proper wanderer. I'd change the fact that I've never actually been anywhere. That bearded man, there? The older human?" She points back at her companions, indicating the older of the two humans. "That's Horodel, Torexal's older brother. He's none to happy about me coming along. He thinks I'll be a burden and is certain I'll die during the first conflict." Atia flushes and looks angry. "He's wrong, of course. I'll show him."
I nod encouragingly. “I’m sure you will.” I decide to switch to a lighter subject. “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
"I'm sorry, what?"
“Oops, sorry. I meant what’s your favorite food?”
"Oh, I'm not particular, so long as it's decent and I'm not the one doing the dishes."
I grin. “Dishes are the worst. Do you have a favorite animal?”
She has to pause and think about this. "I love cats. We actually don't have any at home, right now. We lost ours last winter. We had several when I was little. It's hard not to like cats, I think. They're furry and playful and mean at the same time. My sisters and I used to get in trouble for encouraging them to bite."
“Cats are pretty popular where I’m from too,” I tell her. “Can you tell me more about your friends? Any close friends or advisors in your life?”
Here, Atia's good mood seems to dip yet again. She bites her lip, gaze turning distant. Her shoulders slump. Yet then, her jaw clenches. "I've always been different. I'm not going to pretend no one loved me back home, but sometimes, you have to do without friends and advisors."
“Sorry to be asking such personal questions, we can stop if it’s getting too hard for you,” I say gently.
But she shakes her head, “No, I’m okay.”
“Okay, just a few more,” I assure her. “Tell me about a struggle you are facing currently. How are you dealing with it?”
She chuffs a laugh. "Well, like I said, I've got to figure out how to make Horodel relax. If he convinces Elsvener and Uelin to reconsider bringing me, I'll be in a bad spot. I'm not going back home, that's for sure."
“That sounds like a precarious position to be in,” I say. “If you could have one wish come true, what would you wish for?”
She smiles and cocks her head. "That I was far more experienced than any of the other wanderers, maybe? I'd enjoy that, I think." Yet then she pauses, chewing her lip, eyes on the floor. "Or that certain things that happened hadn't happened at all."
I nod, wondering more about her past. I’ll have to read her story to find out, I guess, she’s being a little cagey. “I’d love to hear about your favorite place in the world.”
Atia grins, eyes shining. "Ask me that question in a year or so. I'm going to explore the entire world. I've been waiting for this moment all my life. I'm going to go everywhere—to the Radamor, to Quinland, Lanlay, every big city in Avar and every mystical forest in all of Mel'tar. I'm going to explore everything."
I smile back at her. “I might just come back and ask you that when you’ve ad more experience. Those places sound amazing. I want to hear about them! How about memories? What’s your happiest memory?”
Atia thinks about this for a moment. Then she smiles. "Probably when my cousin came home. Elise was taken from us by her father. He's nothing to be proud of. Elise was like another sister to us all, so... yes. When she finally got away from Uncle and came home, that's my happiest memory." Atia sighs and nods, seemingly to herself. "I'll patch things up with her when I see her again. We didn't part on the friendliest terms."
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I sympathize. “Last question: If you could ask your author one question, what would you ask them?”
"My author?" She frowns, considering this. "Do you mean the Upper Light?"
“Possibly,” I smile and notice that my badge is starting to glow. I cover it up with one hand, hoping she didn’t notice. “Never mind. Well, thank you so much for chatting with me Atia! It’s been a true pleasure. I wish you the best on becoming a true wanderer and proving yourself to your companions!”
I hurry outside just before the world blurs and fades from my sight….
About the Author: M.K. Casperson
I grew up in the Puget Sound area on five acres of wooded property. As a kid and adolescent, I adventured through the forest with my siblings, creating characters and exploring mystical worlds. Some of those worlds, I never escaped from. It is to these worlds my writing will take you. The first door is published as Keepers of Fire, and is my first novel.
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About the Book
The Demon is recruiting his servants.
An unthinkable twist of fate lands Dethar in the secret home of his archenemy, Arthen Brightscar, and a dribble of gossip informs him that the elusive but dangerous hero is long since dead. Chagrined at the loss of his chance for vengeance, Dethar turns his sights on Arthen's two young children and undefended widow. Killing them will simply have to satisfy.
Farming and adventuring have little in common, but Atia Morren longs for the day when she can follow the example of her cousin's husband, Arthen, and explore the world. But when the arrival of a cruel stranger smashes the tranquility of her home, Atia's daydreaming swells into mad desire. Escaping with a group of wanderers, she begins a quest to the dreaded Scadkai forest. Yet though Dethar took much from Atia, it begins to appear he left behind something of his own. Only Dethar could have given her the magic she suddenly possesses, and it is up to Atia to find out why.