The man made absolutely no sense, whatsoever. He seemed to want to burst from his skin, twitching and shivering.
“... so then, you’ll get to a little clump of grass. It’s not very big, but not very small either. There, you’ll take ten steps forward (measured ones, mind you), and turn right, whereupon you’ll come to a derelict little path and that little path...”
And so it went, till Niall’s head fair ached with the sound of endless directions. He knew he was close, he just did. Perhaps the closer he came, the madder the folk about got. Of a certainty, the poor fellow reciting directions to the-gods-alone-knew-where seemed as insane as they come.
“Yes well... ah, thank you,” Niall said nervously before tipping his hat and continuing on his way. He walked with the easy step of the experienced traveller not wasting time, leaping about here and there, all a dither with the excitement of a journey but rather putting one foot firmly in front of the other.
It was the tread of a man who knew where he was, which made getting where he was going that much easier.
Around him, the landscape went horribly awry with a wildness that grew trees twisted and odd in their branch expansion, sent grass sprawling in all directions rather than neat, quivering lines. And when Niall happened upon the path (because, of course, he counted his steps and they were measured ones), it squiggled around like a child’s drawing.
He thanked his lucky stars his memory hadn't yet given in, especially after all these years adding and subtracting and recalling the exact weight of a bolt of cloth and just where in the lands you could get the best deal. Those who reckoned the life of a peddler just buying and selling were profoundly wrong, he thought, and not for the first time either.
Niall hummed tunelessly as he followed the old path. The directions were remarkably precise. Follow the path till you get to the stream (it bubbled pleasantly) and wait on the bank for the space of four heartbeats before crossing. Take two deep breaths on the other side, turn to the left and walk for a steady count of sixty.
Niall arrived at the promised little hollow in the ground, placed his heel firmly within and spun two rotations before getting out and continuing the required twenty paces.
It was a jumbled mix of things to do and the peddler quite lost himself in the little tune that had taken hold in his mind and the series of bizarre actions he had to, well, action! He crossed the little stream twice more; the last time in one jump as per instruction.
For a while, he minded his location till even the urge to do that fell away and Niall, slowly forgetting himself and all the things he knew, spent the sunshine hours marching from here to there, hopping to his left and spinning once, twice... sometimes three times! It was a most impractical way to travel and while his innards rebelled at it, he continued for he must find the temple, as he had sworn he would do.
Deaf to his better judgement, he went on, step by step. Once, he looked up and could not fathom where he was, for everything looked the same; he wondered if he’d even moved. He had, though! Niall could feel the effects of it in his muscles and the shortness of breath, for there had been leaps and bounds involved and he was not a young man anymore.
Indeed, he took the moment to pause and await his second wind, which was longer in coming every cycle of seasons. Well and so, age was the one thing he could not escape. Nor could he escape the sudden, unsettling feeling that this, all... this, was for naught and done on the word of a madman. It was madness!
“But isn't that what you want?” The voice echoed from behind, sliding over his shoulder and taunting him with its promise.
Niall whirled and found himself back where he started, eye to eye with a man who twitched and shivered, as if his body were too tight for his soul. “What do I want?” he challenged, suddenly at odds with himself and irritated with the man. But he seemed unfazed by Niall’s rudeness.
“My dear, sweet, peddler ” he cooed, sashaying forward with an unholy elegance and his touch, when it came, chilled and thrilled Niall right down to the marrow of his bones. The man’s hand was on his shoulder, and it squeezed tight and all too real. He pulled Niall close, uncomfortably so; so close he could see an erratic pulse jumping in the man’s neck. So close he could feel hot breath on his ear as the man, who still twitched and shivered, whispered the answer.
“The only way to the Mad God lies through madness!”
Despite himself, Niall laughed, and the high, hysterical sound of it chased all the sanity away.
--
Challenge: here
Sentence: “A veteran peddler is seeking the Temple of the Mad God.”
Comment: Rather more... inconsistent than I would like, I can only justify and say it fits with the feel of the piece. It's the first standalone piece I've done in far too long, but enjoyable despite that.
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