Exhausted from a long day of strolling through Rordynne forest, relaxing in the warm breeze with his feet in cool mountain water, and achieving nothing more than forgetting why he set out in the first place, Gerylde the hermit arrived home to find a cooked meal waiting for him inside. A hare had been grilled over a flame. Half of it, at least. The other half had vanished, along with the chef.
Ryleine had been round then. She was such a sweet girl, making sure to visit every few days to check in on him. Gerylde remembered when he used to pop around to visit her, back when she was too young to string together more than a few nonsensical syllables, accompanied only by excessive saliva and giggles.
A lot had changed since then. The girl learned to talk, and walk, and how to survive on her own in the forest. Gerylde had more or less forgotten how to do all those things. He wasn’t sure how he had managed that last decade, living on his own in a derelict hut. But he fully intended to stay there, dwelling alone for his remaining years.
Ryleine was one the few people he ever saw, and he loved every visit, even if she always gave him that pitiful, worried expression – one that suggested she wanted to take him home with her so that she could look after him there.
Although, there had also been that strange fellow a few days back. Appeared out of nowhere. Tall man. No, maybe short? Leathery skin, spent too much time in the sun. What was his name? Not important. The point being, he very rarely saw anybody. Those that knew of him just called him the hermit, while his real name had been all but forgotten.
Feeling satisfied from his dinner, he lay down on a crude cot in the corner of his hut and gazed up at the patchwork ceiling. He often wondered how many more storms it would survive, but his workmanship as a younger man had proven effective. His hut survived through everything with him, had seen off difficult years, just as he.
His eyelids fell limp, and it wasn’t long before he began snoring, sleeping deep as ever. And as the sun rose gently over the horizon, so too did Gerylde depart from the land of dreams. But his rising was sudden and panicked.
Where was it? What had he done with it? Had he lost it out in the forest?
He jumped out of bed and began turning over all his possessions in a desperate search. What the hell had he done with it? It must be somewhere!
His hut was soon in a mess, and he’d come no closer to finding it. Frustrated, he sat down on a stool, shut his eyes, and tried to concentrate, to think about where he may have left it. He searched his memories for any sign of it, for an indication of where he may have put it. Hidden somewhere only he would remember, perhaps.
Then it occurred to him. What was he looking for? He sighed and walked outside. Whatever it was, it must be out there somewhere.
A pleasant, sunny morning greeted him with a gentle breeze that wafted away the night’s odours and brought with it a freshly scented reminder of exactly why he lived out there all alone in Rordynne Forest. Wind rustled through deep green leaves of tall trees, while plentiful birds sang harmony and calls of animals rang through the dawn. It made him feel happy; his meagre possessions were not important, only that sensation he experienced every morning when he remembered he was precisely where he wanted to be.
He glanced around, searching in all directions for whatever it was he was looking for, confident he would recognise it just as soon as he found it.
The old hermit wandered in a direction that felt right, keen eyes darting between trees. He wasn’t worried about getting lost. After so many years in the forest, he knew every tree personally. He’d named many of them. Held conversations with some of them too, though he would not admit that to Ryleine lest she pack him up and move him to her cabin. He knew the trees didn’t talk back, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t excellent listeners. And occasionally, he had plenty to share with them.
Before long Gerylde realised that he would need some help to search for his lost item. Rordynne forest spread over vast uneven terrain, and finding something would be extremely difficult, even if he knew what he was looking for.
“Imps!” he called, and they were there.
They were always there as soon as he called. They followed him around, concealed until he needed them, then vanishing again as soon as he left. But they were always nearby.
“How are you this morning?” he asked.
As usual, they did not answer. He suspected they could not speak, or perhaps he simply could not hear them. Regardless, they were there, and they were good company.
“I am looking for something,” he said. “Can you help?”
The nearest imp, standing a few steps in front of him, cocked its head and showed him a curious guise. It was a strange creature. Ugly really. About a foot tall, chestnut brown skin with patches of olive green all over its body. Its arms and legs were elongated, twisted and forked into tiny, crooked fingers. He found it difficult to read their expressions, as if they hid any emotions or simply never wastes time thinking about anything.
“Well, can you help or not?”
The imp still didn’t reply.
“What about you?” he said, peering up into the canopy. “Anything up there?”
Another imp sat on a branch in a tree above him. It shook its head, though Gerylde suspected it hadn’t bothered looking. The imps seemed to be strangely unhelpful.
“Any of you?” he called out louder, frustrated.
An imp to one side suddenly moved, darting into the trees. Gerylde raced after it, as fast as his aching legs could carry him. They bounded through the forest for what must have been half a day, and Gerylde felt exhausted by the time the imp came to a halt in a gloomy ravine with a burbling stream running through. He took the opportunity to take a break, enjoying a drink of cool water and washing his face. Refreshed, he turned to find several imps waiting patiently at alongside the ravine.
“Glad to see the rest of you have caught up,” he said. “We must keep searching.”
He followed them out of the ravine, still scanning either side in case he spotted his quarry. Fortunately, their pace became much more reasonable and he could keep up with them without too much effort. The imps were unpredictable. They were there whenever he called, but by no means could he control them. They did what they pleased.
Out of nowhere, a massive beast jumped from the foliage to block his path. It growled viciously, edging from side to side, claws extended to full length, scraping deep gashes in the dirt. It paused just a few leaps away from him, snarling. The imps panicked and bolted in all directions. Except towards the tiger.
Well, it wasn’t exactly a tiger. It must have been twice the size of a normal one, its fur black with long blood-red stripes down its flanks. It looked nothing like a real tiger. Moreover, there were no tigers on Renryre Island; hadn’t been any since they lost the mainland. Whatever this was, it obviously did not exist.
Gerylde burst out laughing.
“Calm yourselves, imps,” he said. “This tiger clearly isn’t here. I think I am just getting a little old, starting to see things that are not there! My imagination has run a little wild!”
He shook his head. He’d grown old. When did that happen? Well, he supposed madness had to set in one day. It seemed as a good a day as any, given he had no idea what day it was.
“You are a cute kitten aren’t you?” he said.
He took a step forward towards the giant tiger, and it cowered away. Well, in his imagination it cowered. The creature appeared confused. He closed the gap swiftly and confidently.
“Come here, you!”
He patted the giant beast on its head as it tried to slink away, its eyes and ears pulled all the way back, its snarling all but ceased.
“Have you seen it?” he asked. “What I’m looking for? What am I looking for?”
The creature turned and bolted, vanishing into the thicket almost instantly.
Gerylde shook his head and chuckled. He could not say he never expected it, but he had hoped to keep his wits a little longer. He turned back to his imps who had all cowered behind him while his mind played its tricks. He knelt to reach closer to them, to make a closer examination of each of them.
“At least you lot are real!” he said. “Now, where were we? What were we looking for?”
One of the imps clapped its arms together and trotted away, the rest following close behind. Gerylde wasted no time falling in. He didn’t want to be left behind. It was afternoon by then, the sun high above, though its rays barely broke through the dense canopy, allowing for only spots of light swirling in the shadows, dancing on the forest floor.
“Are we nearly there?” he asked. “I don’t want to get caught outside when night falls. You know what prowls in the shadows.”
No matter how well he knew the forest, he did not want to be caught after nightfall. There were wolves hunting in packs at night, and they were not likely to allow him an easy retreat.
The giant black tiger approached three more times while he followed the imps, each time growling softly and backing off. It wasn’t threatening any more, in fact it seemed almost friendly. It acted as if it wanted him to follow. But Gerylde preferred to follow the imps. They, at least, were not figments of his imagination.
* * *
Gerylde continued to follow the little creatures, all the while becoming less confident that they knew where they were leading him, and he grew ever more nervous as the day wore on. He was just about ready to demand that they turn around when a man burst through the trees. An old man. Naked. Completely naked. He stopped before Gerylde, and looked at him curiously.
“Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon to you.”
Gerylde couldn’t help but notice the man was still naked. Incredibly naked.
“I’m looking for something,” said Gerylde. “Would you care to help?”
“I can’t right now, I am on a quest.”
“A quest?”
“Yes, a quest. I am trying to win the heart of a beautiful maiden, the woman that I am destined to be with for eternity. I am to begin my courtship by finding some clothes. Any suggestions?”
Gerylde glanced at his own tattered rags, unsure of what the old man hinted at. They were not the fanciest clothes, but he didn’t want to end up being the one standing around naked in a forest.
“I am afraid I can’t help.”
“All right, thanks anyway.”
The old man bounded into the trees. Good thing that – he was clearly mad. It had been a long day already, what with an imaginary black tiger following him around. With the old man gone, Gerylde could resume his search with his imps.
“Imps!” he called.
But there were none. They were all gone.
“Imps!” he shouted louder.
Nothing. Where the hell had they run off to?
He searched through the trees, up in the canopy, scanning through branches amongst fluid shadows dancing in the wind. He searched the forest floor, the ravine, and in the water trickling through. He kicked up dead leaves, checked behind some wider tree trunks, and underneath dense bushes.
Then it occurred to him. What was he looking for?
No matter, he felt certain it couldn’t have been important. He should make his way home; dusk approached, and he did not want to be caught out alone at night, deep in Rordynne Forest. He glanced around at the trees, seeking a familiar sight. He knew all the trees; he knew them personally. Just not these particular trees. Panicked, he rushed around, searching for anything he recognised, but soon the sun set, and he lost his way.
As if on cue, he heard wolves howling in the distance, and their calls quick grew louder. By the sounds of it, no fewer than ten wolves stalked him. Might as well be a hundred for all he could do about it.
If he could only climb trees as he used to, he could maybe avoid them for the night by hiding in higher branches. But it had been some time since his limbs were strong enough to lift him. Quite some time.
Gerylde searched again, desperate for anything familiar. Where was he? What was he doing out there? Was he looking for something? That’s right, he was looking for something. What was it? No time now, darkness had fallen, and he needed to find somewhere to hide before the wolves arrived.
He discovered a copse of trees tightly packed and managed to slither through a gap. It might just be enough to hold the wolves out, should they find him. He sat down and hugged his arms close as the cool of night began to settle in. He could hear the wolves coming closer and closer, and he felt powerless and afraid. For the first time in many years, he felt alone. Lost, deep in Rordynne Forest.
His eyes played tricks on him; convinced him he could see things moving in the shadows. Large things. Scary things. They were watching him, hunting him perhaps. His heart raced, his breath catching as he tried to remain silent. Barely able to keep his nerves under control, involuntary shudders overtook him, both from the cold and the fear.
A shape loomed in a tree above him, peering down on him. He struggled to focus, but in the gloom, it appeared almost invisible. Straining, he finally made out the shape. A huge cat. A tiger, pitch-black as night. He remembered the blood-red stripes down its side, but he could not distinguish them in the dark. It watched him, its eyes glimmering in faint light. Gerylde felt convinced he had imagined it earlier, but with every passing moment he grew less certain. Fear getting the better of him, he shut his eyes, squeezing them tight, and held his breath.
“Grandfather?”
He opened his eyes, and she was standing right in front of him, with someone else next to her. Where did she come from?
“Ryleine?” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“I… I have been trying to find you,” she said. “What are you doing out here? Are you okay?”
Reluctant to admit the truth, he stammered for moment. She would no doubt use it against him, force him to move to her cabin. And he was still completely fine on his own. Then again, where was he?
“I just found myself a little turned around. I was looking for something and… well, everything seems so different in this part of the forest. So… unfamiliar.”
“This part?” she said, confusion wrapped in her voice. “Grandfather, your hut is about forty yards away. It’s right over there.”
She pointed behind him, and he followed her finger to see his hut. Right where he left it.
“I knew that!” he said. “Why are we still outside? Let’s get indoors. You two will catch a cold if you stay out so late in this cool weather!”
He ushered them indoors, and Ryleine quickly lit a fire in the hearth. Soon enough it warmed up, and Gerylde could sit comfortably beside it with his guests. Not that he had much to offer them. Ryleine boiled some water and passed around modest mugs of broth.
“What were you looking for outside?” asked Ryleine.
“It’s nothing important, don’t you worry about me,” he answered, conscious that he still could not remember what it was. “Who is your friend?”
Had he met him before?
“This is Kyrnrie. We are… helping each other find some things,” she said. “Grandfather, do you still have that gold coin? The one with the ship on one side, and the seven stars on the other?”
That was it! That was exactly what he had been looking for! But where was it? He had lost it. He just couldn’t remember where.
“I don’t know where it is,” he admitted. “I had it recently, kept it in that drawer where I always have. But… I lost it. I don’t know where it is.”
Both Ryleine and Kyrnrie sighed in dismay, almost perfectly in unison. He’d possessed the coin since before he could remember. Though admittedly, he may have forgotten one or two things recently. In any case, he had kept the coin safe ever since. It was probably worth something, but he’d never thought to sell it.
“Don’t worry, Grandfather, we will help you find it,” said Ryleine. “When was the last time you saw it? Did you take it out recently?”
“I always keep it in there Ryleine, you know that.”
“Please think, Grandfather,” she pushed. “We need that coin in order to find the mainland. I’m not sure how it will help exactly, but we really do need it. Otherwise, I will have to…”
“Has anybody been here… ah, Mr Hermit?”
Kyrnrie was too inquisitive for Gerylde’s liking. Asked too many questions. And he seemed to have an eye for his granddaughter.
“No, of course not,” barked Gerylde. “I would have said so, wouldn’t I? Ah wait. There was that one man. Foul mouth, spent too much time in the sun. What was his name?”
“I have no idea, Grandfather, I thought you were alone? What do you mean he spent too much time in the sun?”
“He did. Dry cracked skin, red, peeling, patchy. Looked like he had spent two weeks in the desert chasing his own tail. On his way to Helen’s Bay.”
“Chasing his own tail?” said Kyrnrie. “Er, Tailfin? Wait! Do you mean Madrik? Madrik was here?”
“Yes, Madrik. That’s exactly what I said.”
Madrik? That didn’t sound right. But he did not have time to try to recall the man’s name now. Besides, Gerylde wasn’t too sure about this Kyrnrie. He seemed to have an eye for his granddaughter.
“Madrik, the thieving bastard. He would definitely have taken it.”
“Who’s Madrik?” asked Ryleine.
“He’s a gangster,” said Kyrnrie. “Managed to get on the wrong side of Tailfin. He was sentenced to the desert run twice and survived both times. Not someone you want to get involved with.”
“Who’s Tailfin?”
“He’s also a gangster – the most powerful crime lord on Renryre Island, in fact. He runs most of the crime on the island, and most of the inns, gambling dens, pretty much everything really. If Madrik went anywhere near him, which I know he did, then Tailfin almost certainly has the coin now. And he is not someone you want to get involved with.”
“Yet you seem to be somehow involved with both of them.”
“You don’t go about collecting valuable gold coins without bumping into gangsters here and there.”
Ryleine appeared upset. It pleased Gerylde. He didn’t much like Kyrnrie, he was up to no good. He seemed to have an eye for his granddaughter.
“Will you go and find my coin, Ryleine?”
Ryleine glanced at Kyrnrie, who nodded back to her.
“We should get some sleep first,” she said. “There is room enough on the floor.”
Gerylde watched as his guests set up near the hearth. He didn’t remember inviting them to sleep over, certainly not Kyrnrie. He should make sure to get rid of him in the morning.
He lay down on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling. His eyelids fell limp, and before long he fell asleep, snoring loudly as he always did.
And as the sun rose gently over the horizon, so too did Gerylde wake from his peaceful dreams. Startled, rudely shaken by Ryleine.
“Wake up, Grandfather. It’s time to go.”
He glanced around and saw some of his things packed up in a bundle near the door.
“I’m not going anywhere!” he barked.
“It’s time for you to move into my cabin,” said Ryleine. “You will be happy there, I promise. I can watch over you, feed you, and make sure you are always looked after. Please come with me this time. Don’t make me beg!”
It wasn’t the first time she had tried it. Packed his things and insisted he go with her. She watched him with that pitiful expression of hers. It drove him crazy. He was just fine without her; he could survive another decade on his own in Rordynne Forest.
“I am perfectly fine on my own. I don’t need you looking after me.”
Ryleine may have been disappointed, but she didn’t bother arguing. She had lost this argument a hundred times before and didn’t have the will to argue about it again.
“It’s probably better this way, Ryleine,” said Kyrnrie. “We are about to go after gangsters who are unlikely to hand over the coin on polite request. It will be dangerous. Perhaps once we are done, we can come back here, see how things are then.”
Reluctantly, she left without him. The two headed off into the forest, and Gerylde found himself alone in peace once more. He loved living in the forest on his own. He would stay there till the end of his days if he could manage. Ryleine seemed certain that he had long since lost his wits, but Gerylde knew otherwise. Yes, occasionally he forgot things. Trivial things really, nothing important. Certainly nothing she should be worrying about.
With a skip in his step, albeit a slightly painful one, he walked outside to another pleasant morning. Sunny, warm, with a light breeze. Simply perfect. He strolled out towards the trees, walking at a leisurely pace. He put his hands in his pockets and touched something small and solid. He withdrew it, raised it up to his eyes.
A gold coin. With a ship on one side, its sails unfurled. On the other side, seven stars. They always seemed to rearrange themselves, he never knew why or how.
Suddenly, he remembered what he had been looking for. “Hmm,” he mumbled. “What’s that doing in there?”
I hope you enjoyed reading The DisjointedTJales of Renryre Island Chapter
The adventure continues on Wattpad!
M.A.B. Holloway 