Be it the whim of the Will’O’Wisps
“Goddamn, it feels like the devil dipped his knob in my bath water!” Remi bemoaned.
His companion cut eyes at him, but otherwise did not react to his whining nor his crude language. He glowered at them, decked head to toe in their rich blue garments, none but their eyes visible beneath the wraps and loose fabric. In the 4 miles of trekking they’d completed, his companion had yet to touch their water or show any signs of being bothered by the heat. Remi on the other hand had guzzled his at the 2-mile mark. He was miserable; the thin undershirt and fiber pants he wore clung uncomfortably to his skin and his gait was constantly shifting in a vein attempt to keep from sticking to himself.
“Better be some pay out, right mate?” This attempt at conversation, like others, fell on deaf ears. “Fine,” he humphed. Next time, he’ll make sure to take the group contract, or better yet, a solo one. He had better banter with his pistol than with this bloke.
Fixing his eyes on the hazy horizon, something seemed to sparkle and dance on the very edges of his eyes reach. Sparks of fires beckoned him from the point at which land and sky met.
“Woah, I think the heat’s getting to me. I’m seeing sparkling fire.”
Thinking his partner would suggest a break, Remi was surprised by their reaction. Stopping abruptly, they pulled the nimcha from their hip, pointing it at horizon; glaring down the blade, they spotted something that made them change directions and speed up.
“Hey!”
He was not acknowledged.
…………………..
“Oh, praise the lord!” Remi exclaimed as they came upon a small pond.
He stepped towards it, intent on submerging himself to stave off the heat. A strong hand on his elbow stopped him. His head whipped to his companion in confusion and a bit of anger, but they simply pointed at the sky. Remi looked and sighed; the sun would start setting soon. He was not a very well-versed man when it came to the desert, but he knew from a fair amount of warning that it grew surprisingly cold at night. To his relief, his partner gestured to set up camp. At least he would not need to travel any further today.
Remi busied himself with setting up his tent and collecting firewood, whistling to fill the silence that shrouded them. He made quick work and soon found himself watching over the fire he was stroking as the other man set up belled strings around the parameter.
“Those for the bound?” he questioned, although he knew. He was never one for silence. His mother had once said that he was a late talker and that he talked so much to make up for the years he went without. ‘My Remi,’ she’d say, ‘could out-tweet the nightingale, on the early morn none the less.’
For once, he got an answer. Whether they could sense Remi’s growing ire with the lack of comradery or they simply were feeling up for banter, he wasn’t sure. Muted though the response may be, Remi was satisfied when steely grey eyes spared him a glance and a low confirming grunt reached his ears.
Night fell quite quickly and Remi was glad for the fire, as it was indeed cold without the sun’s smoldering heat. His eyes were trained on the two sizable beetles turned on their back atop the flames. Although Remi was not very thrilled by the prospect of eating them, his stomach rumbled as he watched the meat sizzle from the holes cut into the bellies of the insects. Using two sticks, his partner grabbed the beetles from the flames and placed them in little divots in the sand. The hot shells hissed as they met cold sand and were soon tolerable to pick up.
“Ever imagine you’d be eating bugs bigger than rats before your time in the realms?” He questioned as he took the proffered makeshift utensil and grabbed his beetle.
He took a bite, grimacing, it wasn’t awful, but was definitely an acquired taste. Seeing his displeasure, his companion held out a waterskin. He took it gladly, taking a large swig. His eyes watered and he sputtered as the liquid hit his throat.
“Bloody… the hell is that?!” he exclaimed, coughing the strong herbal tasting alcohol from his lungs. “You had this the whole time?!!”
Grey eyes squinted in obvious amusement from beneath the headwrap.
“Oh, you’re funny” he scoffed, but he too was grinning.
…………........
The faintest tingling of bells awoke him. Thinking it was the bound, Remi snatched his pistol and hurried out his tent. There it was again, the dancing fire. It whirled and spun, calling him to follow. As if in a trance, he did.
He stumbled on something. A bottle of blue liquid sat at his feet, chilling his bare toes. Grabbing it, his fingers stuck to the glass.
“Hey, thanks…” the dancing fire was gone when he looked up.
………….........
“Not much further now,” Remi narrated, in a much better mood thanks to the frost potion. He had made peace with the fact that his partner was not much for conversation. To make up for it, he filled their journey with jibber-jabber, the other man didn’t seem to mind.
The cave they were supposed to seek out should be appearing soon.
“Hey!” he started, spotting things from before. Without hesitation, he veered for them.
“Stop!” he heard from behind, but he didn’t. He was too excited to be led to another treasure. By the time he realized something was wrong, it was too late.
Faster than he could process, he was falling. Hitting the ground hurt and he was sure something was broken, but that was the least of his concern. With snarls and growls alerted him to the bound closing in on him.
………….........
Remi found himself waking once again, this time to a cool cloth dabbing his pulsing forehead. He opened his eyes, catching familiar blue garments. However, he was shocked to find an uncovered face.
“You’re a woman,” he rasped.
The dabbing paused, “yes.”
He observed her mocha skin and striking eyes, “a pretty one.”
Another pause and a gentle smile, “yes.”
“How did you get to me?”
“The wisps.”
“Huh?”
“Your dancing fire, they’re will’o’wisps and they’re fixated on you for some reason.”
“Ah, so they’re my helpers.”
“These things….” She shook her head, “Remi,” stressing her voice as she looked at him with those piercing grey eyes. “They give and they take. Never one, never the other. It is always a game of whim with them.”
“Right,” he grunted, pushing himself up. “We best go then.”
“I’m afraid that might be difficult. The way I came is no more.”
On que the will’o’wisps appeared behind her, as if waiting for those words.
He pointed, “you think they know?”
She looked, letting out a jaded sigh, “This could be dangerous.”
“Do we have a choice?” the look in her eyes gave him his answer, “Right.”
With her help, he stood and leaned against her shoulder.
“So be it the whim of the Will’O’Wisps”
