The seventh part of this story can be found here.

It was a warm, sleepy afternoon, with not a cloud in the sky. The river blazed in the sunlight. Cicadas droned. Mud baked on the riverbank, and a shimmering haze blurred everything.

Although evening was hours away, Jerem decided to make camp by the river. He was in no hurry. In fact, he was not even sure where to go next. Shielding his eyes against the glare, he dropped his pack and began to search listlessly for firewood.

“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,” he muttered. “But what am I supposed to do when life doesn’t even have the decency to give me lemons? Gosh, it’s hot. Definitely lemonade weather. I sure could use a glass of lemonade.”

Jerem often talked to himself, since he seldom had anyone else with whom to talk.

As the afternoon wore on, he gathered wood, made a fire, cooked some porridge and began putting up his tent, mumbling all the while.

He was distracted by the murmur of voices. Looking up, he saw five people nearing his camp.

“Look at that,” he said to himself. “A woman in a uniform, very pretty, or would be if she didn’t look so dang serious. A older guy with a nice smile. A hairy little man, and a skinny man with ginger hair, and a man with a bow. They’re hunters, maybe?”

At this point he was interrupted by the woman.

“Greetings,” she said. “It’s unusual to find one so young traveling alone.”

“I’m not that young,” said Jerem, frowning. “Almost nineteen. That’s pretty old.”

“You shouldn’t travel alone,” said the older man. “The Blight has made the Empire a dangerous place.”

Jerem had heard this warning a hundred times before. “Yeah, yeah. I appreciate your concern. I’ll be fine.”

The man gave him an earnest look and said, “We’ve heard rumors that Jerem the Plague may be lurking nearby.”

“Seriously, I’ll be fine,” said Jerem with a laugh. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Very well,” said the woman. “Fuori, where do we go from here?”

The man with the bow said something Jerem could not hear.

“Don’t be absurd,” exclaimed the woman. “We have hours of daylight left.”

“We should stop for the night,” said the man.

Jerem decided to put in a word. “If you set up camp here, you’re welcome to use my fire. I’d be grateful for company, honestly. It gets lonely out here at night. I’m also out of sugar. Can I borrow some?”

“Sure,” said the ginger-haired man, rummaging through his pack. “There you go, stranger. Say, where’d Heck and Paladin Fey go?”

“They left to talk about something,” said the older man. “Get things ready for supper, Nick. I’ll unpack.”

The hairy man, apparently unable to keep silent any longer, burst out, “What’s your name, stranger?”

“Jerem.”

They stared at him.

“You mean, the Jerem?” asked the ginger-haired man. “The Plague?”

Jerem chuckled. “I get that question a lot. If you’re talking about the guy with the hellfire beard and army of demons, no, I’m not Jerem the Plague. By the way, thanks for the sugar. Porridge is awfully bland without it.”

“I’m Mist the Plunderer,” said the hairy man. “Also called Loxley, but I prefer Mist because it sounds more dashing. Ginger over there goes by Nick Puck. The old guy is Innocent Freo, also called Paladin Spike.”

“I’ve heard of you,” said Jerem. “The Runaway Paladin, right?”

Innocent winced. “Yes, but I prefer Innocent, if you don’t mind.”

“Sorry, man. What about the pretty lady and the guy with the bow?”

Loxley replied, “The guy is Heck—I mean, Hector Fuori, our super-expert woodsman. As for the dame, don’t get any ideas. Paladin Fey’s a looker, but she’s about as gentle as a wolverine.”

Jerem finished putting up his tent. “What brings you guys all the way out here? The Amber Plains aren’t exactly a highway.”

“We’re looking for Jerem,” said Innocent.

“Mr. Hellfire? Well, good luck. He’s enemy number one, or so says Cecil the Emperor.”

“We caught the criminal who called himself Jerem,” said Innocent. “He’s in the hands of the Empire. Probably executed without a trial, I’m afraid. No, we’re looking for the other Jerem. You may have heard of him: the man trying to burn the Infinity Manuscript.”

“Yeah, crazy guy,” said Jerem. “By the way, did you get here by walking? Most people use horses in these parts.”

“Our horses are dead,” said Hector Fuori, returning to camp.

Innocent elaborated. “They caught the Blight and began tearing each other apart. We killed them quickly. It seemed more merciful than letting them kill each other slowly.”

“We’re on Jerem’s trail,” said Fuori.

“Innocent already explained,” said Jerem. “Well, good luck finding the bum.”

“I think we have,” said Paladin Fey grimly. “What’s your name?”

“Jerem.”

In that instant, a sword flashed in the sun as Paladin Fey brought it down upon Jerem’s head. The blade glanced off and smote the ground, leaving him unharmed.

“Gosh, that wasn’t very nice,” he said. “You were right, Loxley. She’s about as gentle as—what was it?—a pit bull, or some other very grouchy mammal.”

Paladin Fey stared. “You’re alive.”

“You’re immortal,” said Innocent dully. “Aren’t you, Jerem?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no. The problem is with the sword, not with me.”

“What’s wrong with my sword?” demanded Paladin Fey.

“I don’t think you want to know. Listen, you should get out of here. Trust me. You can even take back your sugar. Just leave.”

“I want to know,” said Innocent. He spoke slowly and clearly. “Jerem, tell us. What’s wrong with Vivian’s sword?”

Jerem sighed. For a youth of nineteen, he sounded like a man who had endured all the hardships in the world.

“The sword can’t hurt me,” he said, “because it doesn’t exist. Neither do you, Innocent, nor does this campfire. Nothing in this whole dang world really exists, except for me and Cecil and the rotten little book called the Infinity Manuscript.”

No one replied.

Jerem fidgeted. “There, see? I warned you. You didn’t want to know. Will you go away now, or do you want me to beg?”

“I believe you,” said Innocent. The others stared at him. “Explain, Jerem. I’m listening.”

“You seem like a nice guy, Innocent. I think you have a right to know. My name’s Jeremy Jacobs, or it used to be. Cecil and I were buddies in the real world—I mean, the world that actually exists. Cecil was always, well, kind of a nerd. A social outcast, you know. That’s why he hung out with a kid like me. I was just twelve. We were both into fantasy books.”

“Fantasy books?”

“Yeah, exciting stories about things that don’t exist. You know, magic and monsters and other imaginary stuff like that.”

“These things aren’t imaginary, Jerem.”

“Exactly! Don’t you get it? This whole world—” Here Jerem made wide circular motions with his arms. “—is a fantasy. You see, Cecil found an old book in a secret drawer in his late grandfather’s desk. The book was empty, except for a note on the first page which told us anything written in the book would become a waking dream for the writer.

“Cecil filled the book with a description of his ideal world, a glorious Empire where he reigned as Emperor. He convinced me to add a page or two. Big mistake. Once we finished writing and closed the book, everything dissolved and we found ourselves here. Cecil was the Emperor of his imaginary Orofino Empire. I was an adventurer, just like I wanted to be.

“This world is an illusion, so nothing in it can hurt me or Cecil or the book. You couldn’t even smudge a page of the Infinity Manuscript, let alone destroy it. He and I are the only ones who can burn the book and make this world disappear.”

Jerem’s listeners sat stupefied. Only Innocent seemed to have kept his wits.

“You want to go back to your own world,” he said. “That’s why you’re destroying the Infinity Manuscript.”

“Yup. No offense, but I’m sick of this place.”

“If this nonsense were true,” interjected Paladin Fey, “you would be guilty of destroying our Emperor’s dream. What kind of friend are you to treat him so cruelly?”

Jerem struggled to speak. “It’s just—I mean—it’s escapism. Cecil’s living in a world of lies, and I think he’s tired of it. He just won’t let it go. It hurts him too much to admit that his greatest dream is an empty lie.

“I’m afraid your Emperor’s dishonest. He’s the one behind the rumors that I’m some kind of genocidal monster. That other guy, the criminal you caught, only took my name because Cecil had spread my fake reputation throughout his whole fake Empire. I think Cecil hoped someone would hunt me down if I seemed dangerous enough.”

“The Blight and the catastrophes ruining the Empire—” began Paladin Fey.

“My fault,” said Jerem. “I’m just two pages away from making your world go poof. The illusion is beginning to wear thin, hence the nasty plants and animals. Sorry about that.”

“Why don’t you stay?” inquired Puck. “Even if the Empire’s an illusion—I say this theoretically—you could be comfortable here. I’m sure His Excellency would be happy to set you up with all the fixings for a cozy life. Whether or not the world really exists, you’d like it if only you’d give it a whirl.”

Jerem passed the back of his hand over his eyes.

“Are you crying?” asked Loxley.

“No, dang it, my eyes hurt from the glare of the sun on the river. Nick—you mind if I call you Nick?—there’s something a friend of mine said once: ‘You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.’ Lies, even pleasant lies, are rotten. I’m happy to read a fantasy, but I sure as heck don’t want to live one.”

Jerem rubbed his eyes again, and opened them to see Paladin Fey holding her sword to Innocent’s throat.

“What are you doing?” gasped Jerem.

“Good question,” said Innocent. “Viv, what are you doing?”

“You move, Jerem, I kill him,” she said. “Loxley, bind Jerem. Now.”

Loxley’s voice was shrill with fury. “You’re threatening Innocent? That’s awful, lady!”

“Quiet, Loxley. We’ll all die if Jerem burns the Infinity Manuscript. I’m not sure why he cares about Innocent since he thinks we’re all hallucinations. Maybe he simply can’t stand blood. Whatever the reason, he’s not moving. Now bind him, Loxley, or it’s your throat I’ll cut.”

“Lady, as far as I’m concerned, you can go—” Loxley finished the sentence in an extremely vulgar fashion, and stuck out his tongue.

“I hate you, Loxley. Master Fuori, kindly apprehend Jerem the Plague.”

Fuori shook his head.

“You too, Fuori? What is the matter with all of you?”

It was Puck who leered, bowed and said, “Leave it to me, Paladin Fey. I’ll bind the rogue.”

He crept behind Jerem, who sat unmoving, and tied him up. Paladin Fey released Innocent. Loxley swore under his breath, and Fuori silently began to brew coffee.

“You’re a good fellow, Loxley,” said Innocent. “Fuori, thanks—I need a coffee. As for you, Jerem,” he added, turning to face the captive, “you saved my life. Thank you, and why?”

Jerem grinned. “You’re welcome, and it’s because I simply can’t stand blood.”

The story continues with the ninth part, The Tale of the Scoundrel.

The sixth part of this story can be found here.

Years of service in the Imperial Army had taught Vivian Fey, Paladin of the Orofino Empire, to endure pain. She had been pierced by arrows, slashed by swords and torn by the teeth of beasts turned fierce by the Blight, and she had borne these injuries impassively.

Some things, however, are beyond endurance. Being poked repeatedly with a sharp stick is one of them.

“Wake up, lady,” said Loxley, prodding Paladin Fey in the side. “We’re under attack. It’d be nice if you’d join us.”

Paladin Fey snatched her sword and scrambled to her feet. “What enemy?”

“Wolves,” said Fuori.

The fire had gone out, but Puck tossed wood onto the coals and coaxed it into flame. Paladin Fey and her companions stood with their backs to the fire, gripping their weapons and staring out into the darkness.

A wolf sprang into the circle of firelight, and fell writhing to the ground as an arrow penetrated its chest. Fuori nocked another arrow and put it through the beast’s throat. The wolf stopped struggling. It was an ugly creature, misshapen and grotesque, oozing blood. Its teeth and claws had grown hideously long under the malign influence of the Blight.

“There’s more of the same, sounds like,” said Puck, sidling behind Innocent.

Another wolf leaped toward them. Loxley sidestepped and plunged his knife between its ribs.

“They’ll get us sooner or later,” quavered Puck. “We can’t carry on like this till morning.”

“Can’t we?” said Paladin Fey, and struck down a third wolf as it sprang for her throat.

“I agree with Puck,” said Innocent. “Stay here, will you?”

With that he seized a burning stick, raised his sword and plunged into the darkness.

The others (excepting Puck) rushed forward, but Paladin Fey held them back with a sharp command. “Wait! We mustn’t separate. I can’t stop Innocent from being a fool, but I order the rest of you to stay together.”

The light of Innocent’s torch diminished. At last it disappeared, and many of the wolves with it.

The few surviving wolves slunk away as the sky paled with the light of dawn.

“Awful,” said Loxley, sinking to the ground. “Brandy. I need brandy. Do we have brandy?”

“None,” said Paladin Fey, wiping her sword on the grass.

“No brandy? What kind of leader are you, lady? You didn’t even bring along the bare essentials. This is the worst job I’ve ever taken, and that’s saying a lot. There was that time in the Amethyst Vale—”

“Be quiet, Loxley.”

“I can’t wait till this ruddy expedition is over and Jerem is jugged and I don’t have to take any more orders from a woman.”

“I eagerly await the day I’m no longer obligated to work with you, Loxley. Now be quiet and help the others pack up camp. I’m going to clean my weapon. You disturb me, you die. I don’t want to clean my sword twice today.”

It was an empty threat, but Loxley seemed to take it to heart. He retreated.

Vivian Fey was disheartened. She had been given the most important task ever entrusted to a Paladin of the Orofino Empire, but the honor was marred by the frustration of being forced to work with such exasperating fools.

Fuori, a tracker, was the only one whose conduct was tolerable. He behaved with quiet professionalism, maintaining an attitude of detached politeness toward the others.

The others were insupportable. Loxley, a common thief, was vulgar and disrespectful. The worst thing about him was his refusal to take anything seriously. He did not seem to understand that the fate of the world depended upon their mission.

Puck, a dealer in information, was just as bad. He was always deferential toward Paladin Fey, but his respect was more irritating than Loxley’s insolence. Paladin Fey was afraid Puck fancied himself in love with her.

Paladin Fey was most upset by Innocent, though she did not know why. Not once had he ever given anyone cause for complaint, apart from his stubborn tendency to handle things his own way.

What troubled Paladin Fey was that Paladin Spike, the man she had known and respected, was gone, replaced by the good-natured stranger called Innocent Freo.

Paladin Spike was kindhearted, but his kindness had been tempered by resolve and discipline. Paladin Fey had considered him her mentor. His desertion came as the greatest shock of her life.

Now in place of the determined soldier was a gentle, patient, middle-aged man. His eyes, which had once burned with fervor, were calm and sad.

“Now that the wolves are gone, could we brew some coffee?” inquired Innocent, breaking in on Paladin Fey’s reflections.

“Innocent!” she exclaimed. “That is to say, welcome back, Paladin Spike. I was worried when you ran away from our camp. Why did you run?”

“You may not have noticed, but I was trying to escape being eaten by wolves.”

“I suppose I should thank you for drawing so many of them away from us. Where did you go?”

“Once we were far from the camp, I made a dash up a tree. The beasts finally decided a tough old man wasn’t worth the wait. They left, and I came back to camp in search of my morning coffee. I need it after the night I’ve had.”

“Ask Puck for the coffee,” said Paladin Fey, absently polishing her sword. “Paladin Spike, I need to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

Paladin Fey cast a look toward the camp. Puck and Fuori were busy packing, and Loxley was busy pretending to pack.

“It’s a personal question,” said Paladin Fey in a lowered voice.

“You’re in luck, because I’m here to answer it personally.”

“Paladin Spike, what happened to you?”

“That’s rather vague.”

“You used to be a hero of the Orofino Empire. People still tell stories about the Runaway Paladin’s legendary exploits, and practically all those tales are true. You were alive when we served together in the Imperial Army. You had more ambition and drive than anyone else I’ve ever known. Then one day you left without a word. And now you’re—you’re just—”

“I’m just an old man who talks too much and drinks too much coffee,” said Innocent. “Speaking of which—”

“Answer my question.”

Innocent suddenly looked very tired. “I couldn’t keep up the charade, Viv.”

“What?”

“I didn’t approve of the Orofino Empire. It was kind enough to its citizens, but the people in its conquered territories were treated like slaves. We overthrew kingdom after kingdom, killing royals, killing insurgents, killing anyone who inconvenienced us, and enslaving the rest.”

“That’s it? Your conscience cost us the greatest Paladin we’ve ever had?”

“No. In spite of my conscience, I might have kept up the charade for the sake of personal gain. I could’ve retired with honor and stacks of gold if I’d served a few more years.”

“What made you leave?”

“Have you heard of how the gods created the world by writing in a book?”

“Of course. We’re trying to stop Jerem before he destroys that book, the Infinity Manuscript. If it’s ruined, so is our world.”

“That story is a lie.”

“That’s heresy, Paladin Spike.”

“It’s also truth, I think. I never believed the stories about the gods. In the end, I enlisted in the Imperial Army and devoted myself to my career. I had some idea that, if I were successful, my doubts would go away or simply wouldn’t matter anymore.

“I was wrong. My doubts grew and multiplied until I was no longer sure of anything. At last I couldn’t endure any more. I deserted, fled to a cozy little town out in the desert and got a job as a police constable.”

“You gave up everything and turned your back on the Orofino Empire. Are you happy now?”

“Sometimes. I’ve made my peace with my doubts, but I can’t shake the conviction that the stories about the gods are lies. It all seems—I don’t know—false, like a dream that might fade at any moment.”

Paladin Fey frowned. “It will certainly fade if we don’t catch up with Jerem soon. Our world is ended if he succeeds in burning the Infinity Manuscript.”

“So our Emperor tells us.”

“Do you doubt him?”

“I doubt everything, and the Emperor especially. I want to hear Jerem’s side of things.”

Paladin Fey asked no more questions, and Innocent withdrew to the campfire to brew some coffee. The others finished packing and sat around the fire.

“We should leave soon,” said Fuori. “Jerem’s trail is fresh. He’s close.”

“We’re lucky you were able to find it so quickly,” said Innocent.

Puck scoffed. “Luck had nothing to do with it. We may have a blasted good tracker, but he’d have gotten nowhere if I hadn’t put him on Jerem’s scent with a few timely tips from friends of mine.”

“I still can’t believe that other guy wasn’t Jerem,” grumbled Loxley. “He was our prime suspect, and he turned out to be a phony.”

“That criminal was a serious enemy,” said Paladin Fey. “His band of renegades hurt the Empire more than any army has ever done. We fulfilled part of our mission when we arrested him, but catastrophes tear apart the Empire and the Blight keeps spreading. If Jerem has destroyed pages of the Infinity Manuscript, he may be the cause of these evils.”

“Then let’s not delay,” exclaimed Puck. “We have a criminal to catch.”

“Let’s delay until I’ve finished my coffee,” said Innocent.

A week passed, and their search took them through the Amber Plains. Paladin Fey’s frustration with her companions was mitigated by the glorious realization that she would soon be free of them. Jerem was close.

One golden afternoon, as they followed Jerem’s trail along a river, they came upon a traveler setting up his tent. He was a young man with freckles, red hair and remarkably prominent ears.

“Greetings,” said Paladin Fey. “It’s unusual to find one so young traveling alone.”

“I’m not that young,” protested the youth. “Almost nineteen. That’s pretty old.”

“You shouldn’t travel alone,” said Innocent. “The Blight has made the Empire a dangerous place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the youth. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll be fine.”

“We’ve heard rumors that Jerem the Plague may be lurking nearby,” continued Innocent.

The youth laughed. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Very well,” said Paladin Fey. “Fuori, where do we go from here?”

“We should stop for the night,” said Fuori in a low voice.

“Don’t be absurd. We have hours of daylight left.”

“We should stop for the night,” repeated Fuori, giving Paladin Fey a significant glance.

“If you set up camp here, you’re welcome to use my fire,” said the youth. “I’d be grateful for company, honestly. It gets lonely out here at night. I’m also out of sugar. Can I borrow some?”

Innocent began unpacking, Puck made preparations for supper and Loxley struck up a conversation with the stranger.

Fuori drew aside Paladin Fey. They strolled along the riverbank until the camp was almost out of sight.

“We shouldn’t stop so soon,” said Paladin Fey. “As long as there’s light, we should keep following Jerem’s trail.”

“The trail ends right there,” said Fuori, pointing toward the camp.

Paladin Fey couldn’t speak for a moment. “You don’t mean—no, it’s too absurd—that scrawny, freckly kid couldn’t possibly be—there’s some mistake.”

Fuori shrugged. “The kid does have red hair.”

The story continues with the eighth part, The Tale of Jerem.