《Parallels》
Prologue- Sundered
"It¡¯ll be alright,¡± a stocky female nurse told the red faced, straining mother-to-be. ¡°It won¡¯t be much longer now dear, and then you¡¯ll be able to rest.¡±
Gritting her teeth, the woman managed a slight smile, ¡°We can hope,¡± she muttered with bated breath. A moment later she grimaced, and a machine started wailing its mechanical alarms- which were soon drowned out by the shrill cries of a new life brought forth into the world, three minutes after his twin sister. His mother smiled, this time a true, albeit exhausted, smile, her joy shining clearly, with no needs for words- as if such things could describe the exuberance of a newly crowned mother.
¡°See, dear, it¡¯s all fine. You were worried for nothing,¡± a man said from her side, smiling even wider than she was, mind-boggling though that may be. Harvon Fremont hadn¡¯t left his wife Julia¡¯s side for the entire seven hours she was in labor, lightly grasping her hand every step of the way. Among other things, his wife was prone to two particular conditions; paranoia and anxiety. Julia being a firm believer in Murphy¡¯s Law, Harvon knew she had been fretting about her pregnancy for months- more so than a typical first-time mother, or so he thought, and the fact that she was bearing twins hadn¡¯t helped the matter. ¡°All¡¯s well, both are perfect,¡± he added, love gleaming through his eyes. ¡°Both Ariel and Isaac are perfect,¡± he murmured adoringly.
A great distance away, across a vast void that would boggle the greatest minds, even if it were truly only physical distance that separated them, a cowled figure sat cross-legged on a stone floor- a natural one, for this being was deep within an immense cave system. It had taken four days of walking to reach the place he rested at, discounting the odd breaks taken to sup and drink; truly, though, those rests were of minutes¡¯ length, no more- the being could not afford to be late to this ritual.
Abruptly the figure made the slightest of motions; perhaps it shook its head the tiniest bit, or perhaps it had shivered; even, perhaps, some gust of air in the cavern had rustled its cloak- though whence it came was indiscernible. Whatever the case, it merely preluded the being rapidly reaching up and tearing down the cowl- suddenly drenching the formerly gloomy cave with a sickly, yellow-green light, refracting from various crystalline formations, back and forth across the vast underground expanse, even unto the surface, four day¡¯s walk away, whereat the entrance to the caverns emitted a sinister luminescence.
Far above the cave, in the vast starry expanse itself, two moons shone brightly; one was twice the size of the other, radiating a calm blue light, whilst the other, smaller of the two gleamed white, purer than the freshest snow- yet such was not to last. Perhaps the sharpest of eyes might have noticed it begin, had they chanced to glance upon their beloved moons, but soon enough all would see. Upon the edge of the blue moon a shadow encroached, but it was not satisfied with merely the boundaries of the great mass; nay, rapidly it approached the very core of the celestial body, threatening to blot out its cerulean light; and so it did, and the moon was dark.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Yet, the night sky¡¯s otherworldly events did not halt there; for soon enough, the shadow found itself beset, and crimson shone brightly from the precise center of the great moon; rapidly it expanded, casting out the shadow, projecting its bloody light upon the world, and thus it stayed, and the shifting of the heavens ceased.
Below in the vast underground grottoes, had there been any witnesses, they would have seen the face of the cowled being. While oddly effeminate, the being was certainly male, merely one of quite fine and fragile features. He had a graying beard that might hesitantly be called a goatee; yet, it was clear that the being cared nothing for it, nor his general appearance, in fact. The man¡¯s lips were full, his nose decidedly large, and his fine eyebrows topped gray eyes- eyes which somehow simultaneously held the chaos of a raging storm and the serenity of a bubbling brook on a midsummer day.
To finish his appearance, the man wore his steel-gray hair long, yet in a tight ponytail. While wearing his cloak, one could not tell if he was thin or fat, strong or weak; yet his very presence felt threatening to anything more intelligent than a squirrel. One could tell he had been in more fights than most soldiers; true, hardened soldiers, not the pathetic militias oft used for fodder- and had not a scar to show from it. Dangerous was a word that came to mind when seeing him- and quite an apt word, at that!
Yet, the most curious- and perhaps the most startling- aspect of the man was undeniably the stone that rested on his forehead; it resembled a gem, and was perhaps an inch across, perfectly circular, held in place by a thin silver band. Its clouded depths shone with the same ill light that illuminated the cave; indeed, it was the source of the light- a light that soon grew blindingly bright over the course of a few minutes, until even the entrance to the cavern, so far away, sent a beacon of the sickly light into the sky- directly towards the large moon, which was a mere moment from turning fully crimson.
Three events occurred that fateful night; yet, only one was known to most people. The inhabitants of the world Argandia saw their beloved moon, seemingly desecrated; this was the event known to most. In contrast, only the strange figure in the deep caverns knew about the blinding light that had emitted from his own forehead; perhaps others had seen the beacon rising from the entrance, but only he truly knew the cause.
Then, there was the middle ground; an event known to a mere handful of people. A set of twins was born that night- or more specifically, both birthed and named on that night. On that auspicious moment, when his parents took upon themselves to grant their child a name, an equally inauspicious event took place- and poor little Isaac Fremont was on that night ripped away from his mother¡¯s womb, his twin sister, his parents, the hospital they were in, the country, aye, even the planet itself- and further still could be added to that list, but would be incomprehensible to mere mortal minds and comprehension.
Chapter 1- Life as Normal
It was the 16th day of winter upon the plains of Serad, meaning that it was the 15th consecutive day of blizzards blowing, dropping snow by the foot each day, and the 15th consecutive day of ferocious winds buffeting the fresh powder all about; not for the first time in his life, Isaac cursed his uncle¡¯s decision to build their shack¡¯s door on the south side of the ramshackle building. Winter winds were almost all northbound to a fault; after all, winter itself was caused by the shift of prevailing winds, which brought up incredulous amounts of snow and an utterly breathtaking- literally- temperature from the glacial seas of Sothwick.
Unfortunately for Isaac, the winter snowstorms could last for several weeks- and in fact, in this particular winter, they already had. Winter was not a settime of year for the people of Serad; rather, it was something that came rapidly, with little to no warning, and with no particular schedule. For this reason, it was not a land of farmers; nay, it was a land renowned primarily for its rich deposits of metals, from iron, to copper, to even gold. Thankfully, the extraction of such metals entailed going underground, and whilst the temperatures were still frigid, at least the miners avoided the snow- unlike Isaac and his uncle.
Isaac¡¯s uncle, Gregor, was the local shopkeep, a general goods merchant, of a kind- though that particular title implied that there were specialized traders as well, which most certainly was not the case. If he couldn¡¯t get something, it was likely that no one in their little community could- aside from, apparently, firewood. After all, Gregor should not have to do such menial chores when, in his own words, he had a ¡°perfectly good nephew to do the housework, since you seem to be loath to do anything besides twiddle your fingers- or mooch my porridge!¡± As such, Isaac learned from an early age to do the housework- at least, if he wanted to eat, or have a roof over his head. The one time he had protested, during one of the shorter winters, he ended up staying outside in the snow for a little over an hour- long enough to turn into a human icicle.
Fortunately enough, since those days, Gregor had managed to acquire a few greatcoats made from Silverheart Elk hides, one of the few natural denizens of the Forzold Glades- the wide expanse of forests that were due north of the Sothwick Sea, and merely twenty miles south of the plains of Serad. Considering their close proximity to that particular body of water, the Forzold Glades were almost perpetually frozen themselves; as such, anything that lived within those ancient, ice-sheathed glens had to adapt to the temperature, among other things, or perish. The Silverheart Elk was well-known and highly sought after for two primary reasons; aside from the fact that the males¡¯ antlers were made of silver, and in a heart shape, though thatwas neither here nor there, their pelts were some of the thickest and best-insulated around. This particular type of elk actually had three layers of furs, with air trapped between each- making for some of the highest quality cold weather clothing possible.
Of course, all that amounted to adding another hour, or perhaps two, before the wearer of such fine clothing froze to death, considering the act of skinning the majestic elk, and the subsequent tailoring of an article of clothing caused a great number of imperfections in the pelt, but such issues were impossible to avoid- in the end, it still extended the wearer¡¯s life in such frigid temperatures, and time was still time- and yet there was never quite enough of it, Isaac reflected. To ensure that he and his uncle did not perish to the ever-encroaching frosts, he would have to work nigh-on constantly, bringing in coal and kindling, stoking the fire itself, and, perhaps most annoyingly, digging his way out of the shack, through the vast drifts of snow to the pile outside of the mine a hundred yards away where freshly-dug coal was left - coal that was rapidly running out, he fretted.
Typically, when winter¡¯s grasp struck the Serad Plains, it resulted in a few days of snowfall, perhaps a week at most, yet what men truly feared was the time when it continued unabated. Isaac¡¯s uncle had been more cautious than many others, having dwelt on the plains for decades, knowing its wiles, but even he only had stockpiled two weeks¡¯ supply of fuel- which dwindled far quicker than it should have, considering the overbearingly frigid temperatures in this particular cold spell. As it was, he was lucky- others who were caught unprepared had to drag coal back to their homes since nearly the start of the blizzard.
Come nightfall, Isaac was exhausted, as had become normal during the more severe blizzards. His short, 5 foot 5 inch frame, though well-muscled, simply wasn¡¯t up to the strain of carrying about fifty-pound sacks of coal for twelve hours a day- or at the very least, not whilst battling the snows and the winds. To compound matters, he had missed his mark several times in the ferocious white-out, only realizing he¡¯d passed his uncle¡¯s home once he had reached the rickety old palisade, nearly fifty feet past the shack.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
As it was, he appeared to be some sort of apparition, or perhaps some undead wight, come to terrorize the little mining village, considering the absurd amount of snow encrusted upon his body. Nowhere could a speck of clothing or skin be seen, aside from his eyes- piercing green eyes that had to be both squinted and shielded in order to see anything in the snowstorm outside. As he gradually peeled off the outer layer of clothing, Isaac hung the discarded pieces in a corner of the shack, near the fireplace, where they could, at least hopefully, dry overnight.
He took a moment to survey the room; while their house wasn¡¯t particularly large, it was at least enough for both Isaac and his uncle to have their own rooms, one to either side of the central common room, which was larger than both of the other rooms combined. As far as furniture went, it was relatively sparse- five chests lined one wall, serving as storage for his uncle¡¯s shop. A short, square table with a chair for each side occupied the center of the room, with dirty dishware left atop it- another chore for Isaac to do. To finish off the otherwise spartan furnishings was a large, stuffed armchair near the fire, along with a nightstand in easy reach from the chair.
Once Isaac¡¯s whitened garments were removed, an overlarge figure spoke up from the armchair near the fireplace; one of the few luxuries they afforded, the chair was both large and plush, and, Isaac reflected, far softer than his own ¡°bed,¡± if a few planks with blankets atop could qualify as such- and Gregor filled it quite well, to say the least. While Isaac¡¯s uncle may have been in relative physical fitness, it was quite clear that he cared a bit too much about his food.
¡°That the last of it then, boyo?¡± Gregor inquired.
Isaac smiled and nodded, moving over to the fireplace to tend the flames. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope this snow spell ends afore the winds collapse the place, uncle.¡±
¡°Oh, have no fear of that. It may be old, and drafty to boot, but it¡¯ll take a whole lot more than a breeze to take this ole place down,¡± Gregor responded. ¡°Besides, I swear the snow does more to hold the place up than the struts themselves!¡±
¡°True enough, true enough,¡± Isaac chuckled. The flames were now roaring mightily, so he grabbed a pot from the mantle. ¡°Soup tonight, uncle?¡±
¡°Whatever you feel like cooking, boyo. I¡¯ve to finish up the order list for the shop, here,¡± Gregor said, gesturing to the thick ledger he held. He was already planning ahead for once the snows ended; after all, a successful merchant must have what his customers needed, and it was an art that Gregor had perfected decades before- a successful merchant indeed!
Later that night, Isaac turned and tossed about on what passed for his mattress. The wood wasn¡¯t comfortable, yet it was still far better than the frozen ground. Even so, he still contemplated dragging his bedding out in front of the fire, in hopes of thawing his frosted limbs. The mountainous snow drifts had an igloo effect, to be sure, but it hardly changed the fact that the outside temperature was far below freezing.
With a sigh, Isaac turned on his side yet again, listening to the shrieking winds outside, and occasionally, the distant thumps and thuds of snowdrifts falling from rooves. Yet, something seemed off- those distant thuds and thumps were far too rhythmic, far too steady to be mere snow falling. Straining his ears, Isaac brought his head up to a crack in the frigid wall- in order to get fuel for the fire, he had to dig out a path around the side of the house, the side his room was on. It meant that his room was far colder than the rest of the house, yet it also meant that the noise-dampening effect of the shell of snow was removed.
Sure enough, he could hear the sound far more clearly. It halfway sounded like the miners were at work, close to the entrance of the mine, for whatever reason, yet surely that could not have been the case- it was the dead of night, after all! As he listened, Isaac realized the pace of the dull thumps had redoubled- surely that meant another had joined the first, yet he still couldn¡¯t tell what they were doing in the first place. Slowly he backed away from his place at the wall; there was only one way to find out what was going on, after all. Shaking the haze of exhaustion away, Isaac started pulling on his various pieces of clothing.
It took Isaac perhaps ten minutes to pull on all of his clothing, and quietly slink out of the house; forcing the door back against the footof snow that had accumulated was no easy task, let alone doing it quietly, but he managed well enough. Finally standing outside, he perked his ears up again; the noise was almost a constant now, more frequent even than the terrible winds. That was not the only change, however; no longer was it some dulled sound, but rather the volume of it astounded Isaac- how could he have been the only one out looking to see what happened? It was not only more frequent than the shrieking winds, it was immensely louder as well! Yet, it certainly wasn¡¯t from the mines¡ rather, it sounded to be from the direction of the palisade. Isaac nervously started towards the town wall, frequently stumbling over the snowdrifts.
Chapter 2- At the Gates!
It took Isaac the better part of another ten minutes to reach the palisade; the men from the village cleared out a path to the gate each day, yet the movement of the snowdrifts kept the path under several feet of snow even so- let alone the new snowfall filling in the lonely channel through the sea of frost. Still, Isaac was able to make it without too much trouble; it was slow going, but hardly impossible- merely strenuous.
Thus he arrived at the gate to the palisade, panting for lack of breath- and lack of breathable air- to greet the man standing guard. The town watch was small, merely ten people, and only worked during the night, yet some defense was necessary for a town so far out of the way, small though it might be. The guards rotated every hour, five on guard at any one point, whilst the other half were thawing themselves in the small gatehouse. Isaac knew almost all of the guards well, so he quickly recognized the man standing guard. ¡°Joe? Where¡¯s the other guard?¡± Isaac asked, confused- normally two men guarded the gate.
¡°Out looking for the source of this confounded noise, lad,¡± Joe responded, looking towards the boy briefly, then gazing back out into the darkness past the gate. ¡°A better question would be why you¡¯re out here tonight, hmm?¡±
¡°You said it yourself. I couldn¡¯t sleep, then I heard that ¡®confounded noise,¡¯ as you put it,¡± Isaac answered, shivering.
¡°Even so, lad, what do you hope to accomplish by coming out here? We¡¯re the ones who are paid to check out things like this, not you. Trying to steal my job, eh?¡± Joe grinned at Isaac.
¡°Well¡ you do know I¡¯ve always wanted to be a guard. I definitely don¡¯t want to be a miner, and I just don¡¯t have the head for numbers Uncle¡¯s business needs,¡± Isaac replied wryly, ruefully shaking his head.
¡°Aye, I know you do, lad. I¡¯ve told you before, I¡¯ll tell you again, what my father told me,¡± Joe looked back outside the palisade gate. Wistfully, he continued, ¡°set your head to it, son, and you¡¯ll be able to do it. Just figure out what it is that you want to do. If you want to farm the Serad, set yourself to it and you¡¯ll be able to. If you want to fish the Sothwick, well, you¡¯re the only one stopping yourself. The only thing you can¡¯t do is fool your mother,¡± Joe finished, grinning slightly. ¡°He was right, too, never could fool that woman. If I ever did something bad, she¡¯d have caught me before day¡¯s end.¡±
Sighing, he turned back to Isaac. ¡°You¡¯d best get to sleep, lad. You¡¯ve a great deal of work so long as the snow still falls.¡±
Nodding, Isaac turned to go, but stopped before he¡¯d taken ten steps. Looking over his shoulder, he murmured, ¡°Thanks, Joe. It¡¯s always good to talk to you.¡± Not knowing if Joe had heard him or not, he started on his long trek back- fifty feet in three feet of snow, at night and during a blizzard, no less, was a difficult walk.
Joe sighed once again, a peculiar expression on his face as he gazed at the boy¡¯s receding back- then he heard the door to the gatehouse open. ¡°Took you long enough, you lazy gits,¡± he grumbled, still focused on Isaac.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
When Isaac awoke in the morning, he found himself stiff and cold- nothing surprising there. What was surprising was that he felt pleasantly refreshed, almost as if he¡¯d actually had a good night¡¯s sleep after a day that didn¡¯t involve copious amounts of menial work- neither of which were true. With a light chuckle, he began pulling on his clothes in preparation for the day.
Once he had finished, he left his room to greet a diminished fire- Hmm, Uncle must not be awake yet, he thought to himself. It was odd, but not unprecedented- Gregor slept in one or two days a month, for no apparent reason. I guess the noise last night might have kept him awake, too, he mused. Oh well, it was my turn to cook breakfast anyways. On that note, he began to stoke the fire, and prepared a few pans to cook the morning meal with.
Twenty minutes later, Gregor still had yet to leave his room- and Isaac had begun to fret. However late his uncle slept in, he never failed to wake for breakfast. So, gritting his teeth, Isaac gently shoved open his uncle¡¯s door- to find nothing. No sign of his uncle, aside from the, as always, mussed up bedsheets. With a sigh, Isaac began to shut the door- and then something caught his eye. Upon his uncle¡¯s nightstand laid a stone, atop an envelope.
Isaac¡¯s eyes locked onto the stone; a strange thing it was. It was a green, opaque gem, its depths cloudy and somehow¡ alluring. Slowly he walked towards it; even more slowly, he reached out for it. Yet, something in his head screamed at him; some instinct warned him away. Shaking his head violently, he wondered what had come over him, rapidly leaving the room. Inside, the stone yet sparkled.
After eating his breakfast for one, Isaac went back to his normal routine- or at least, tried to. He stoked the fire one last time, and finished gearing up for the frozen outdoors; yet, as he pushed the door open, he felt almost no resistance. ¡°That must mean¡¡± he muttered, then looked up, ¡°Thank goodness, it¡¯s finally over!¡± The sixteen days of snowfall had come to an end! Finally, he wouldn¡¯t have to work himself to the bone simply to stop himself from freezing! That said, he would still be worked to the bone, he just wouldn¡¯t be an icicle whilst doing it.
Slowly Isaac did his chores for the day- mainly, as always, simply carrying large sacks of coal back to the house, in order to replenish their stock. Yet, his uncle never returned to the house, at least not when Isaac was there. By the fifth sack, Isaac noticed another odd thing; the size of the coal pile was neither increasing nor decreasing, aside from what he took himself. Normally there would be a few dozen townspeople gathering coal; today it was only him- a fact that was incredibly out of sorts with the fact that it was the first day without snowfall in weeks. Combined with the miners not restocking the coal pile, which typically they did every hour, Isaac started to grow truly worried.
The first thing he did was run to the mines; none of the lamps at the entrance were lit- lamps that remained lit at all times, typically. Unwilling to venture into the dark depths, Isaac turned away, instead running to the nearest building, pounding on its door- no response. He repeated his actions with the next house- no response. The next, nothing, the next, nothing, nothing and nothing and nothing. Nowhere did anyone respond. Exasperated and terrified, he ran towards the gatehouse, to rouse the guards; yet, a gruesome sight stopped him in his tracks- Joe, throat torn out, laying dead on the cold, hard ground, a burgundy pool spread throughout the pristine white snow around him. Further back the door to the gatehouse laid on the ground in similar manner, streaked with blood.
Chapter 3- Blood on the Ice
Isaac reeled back from the gory sight in front of him. What¡ what in the world would have done that, he thought, still in shock. Bandits¡ animals¡ what¡ why¡ Something clearly had chosen to target the town last night- and now he feared what he might find, should he choose to venture into the houses of the townspeople.
Still, though, life on the Serad was a hard thing; Isaac had seen bodies since he was old enough to walk outside. Death was a fact of life, in a land as dangerous as the plains of Serad. He gathered what courage he could, and looked back at Joe. He looks exactly like he did last night. Nothing seems to be taken, and aside from his throat, no damage from animals. Isaac was troubled. Clearly, whatever had taken Joe¡¯s life was not out for loot, nor food; so whatever might it be? What reason could it have for killing the poor man?
¡°Maybe¡ maybe it was scared off?¡± Isaac wondered to himself. Then a more terrifying thought struck him- What if it¡¯s still around? With barely half a thought to his actions, he rapidly tore Joe¡¯s spear from the cadaver¡¯s clammy hands- a stout, sturdy weapon it was. Taller than a man, eight feet long and two inches thick, the wizened oak spear would be a difficult weapon to break- yet also a difficult weapon to carry, and thus Isaac discarded it. Instead, he plundered Joe¡¯s arming sword- a simple affair, merely a double-edged blade, two and a half feet in length. After a final look at Joe, Isaac turned to the gatehouse door, tearing up.
¡°Hello? Anyone in here?¡± he warily called out from the doorway. Crud¡ no lamps burning. No fire, either. Loathe to turn away, Isaac slowly backed away from the gatehouse, falling over the broken down door in the process. ¡°AHH!¡± With a screech he fell back onto the door, bringing his head down heavily upon it- and knew no more.
Isaac awoke to feel something wet upon his back; a great deal of something wet, in fact. Groggily opening his eyes, he immediately noticed that Ilios, the sun, was low in the sky; it had been midmorning when he had arrived at the gatehouse. I¡¯ve lost hours, several of them¡ Isaac slowly brought his hand to the back of his head. I¡ I don¡¯t feel anything¡ bringing his hand around, he could see dried flakes of blood upon it. He rested a moment longer; then finally began to rise from his altogether uncomfortable repose on the fallen door.
Once he arose, Isaac soon realized what the wetness was- his body heat had melted the dusting of snow upon the door. I need a fire; else I might catch cold¡ His mind still was not working at full capacity; he heard a sound, but it took him several seconds to process it- and several more to decipher where it came from. A wolf stood over Joe¡¯s body, snout caked red. W¡wolf! That can¡¯t be the only one, they travel in packs¡ Isaac fretted. ¡°Shoo, wolf,¡± he proclaimed loudly- his voice sounding far braver than he felt. ¡°Get away from here!¡±
The wolf, obviously enough, did not listen. It was hungry, as were all denizens of the plains after the snows. It looked at the boy with a curious glance; then, hackles raised, started creeping forwards. Isaac¡¯s hand went to his waist in search of the sword; with a start, he realized it laid on the ground next to him. As he rapidly swooped down to grab it, blood rushed to his head, almost making him swoon. Vision blurry, Isaac barely noticed the wolf lunging forward- at least, until it bowled him over. Grimacing, he expected to be savaged by claws and teeth; yet, nothing happened. ¡°What¡ what happened?¡± he queried after a few seconds of the wolf not moving. As his vision finally cleared, he saw his savior; a black-shafted arrow, firmly embedded in the canine¡¯s neck. Throwing the beast off of himself with a groan, he warily looked around, trying to find the archer- and seeing no one.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Scooping back up his sword, which had been knocked away when the wolf impacted him, he staggered back towards his home- he¡¯d no interest in the gatehouse, not in the state he was in. Exploration could wait; he needed food, and fire.
Once he arrived at home, Isaac barred the door behind him. After that, the first thing he did was to check if his uncle had returned- no such luck. Sighing, Isaac started a fire going, and set his wet clothes to dry in front of it. Sitting down at the table, he held his aching head, and began to speak to himself.
¡°What could have happened?¡± he wondered. ¡°Everyone is missing, and Joe is dead¡ by the looks of it, so are the other watchmen. What could it be? Not bandits, they didn¡¯t take anything¡ not animals, they didn¡¯t eat anything¡¡± Isaac didn¡¯t speak for several minutes, but then suddenly exclaimed, ¡°Everyone is missing! Slavers, it has to be! Still, though¡ why wouldn¡¯t they take anything else? It makes no sense¡ besides, since when have slavers roamed the Serad? Those scum have always been too lazy to brave the weathers.¡± Shaking his head, Isaac sighed- an event that occurred multiple times that day. ¡°It just makes no sense¡ it¡¯s not bandits, it¡¯s not animals, and it would be the first slaver band ever heard of in the Serad¡¡±
Isaac¡¯s thought was cut off by a noise from outside- it halfway sounded like a muttered curse. Silently he stood up, grabbing his blade from the table. Either someone survived, or it¡¯s whoever came here back to finishthe deed¡ a fire wasn¡¯t a good idea, but I needed to get warm. Gah¡ focus! Noise! Door! He slowly walked towards a crack in the wall of the hut, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was.
All he could see through the crack was a cloaked figure huddled against the wall, near the door- it looked as if the person was trying what he himself was doing, merely from the outside. As he watched, the figure carefully rose, and tried to push the door in- with no results, obviously enough, considering he had barred it shut. Unfortunately, however, that meant that he could not open the door himself, at least, not without the figure hearing the bar being lifted. Essentially, he was trapped within the cabin- with a person outside who clearly knew someone was in the house.
That said, he simply decided to watch. The figure circled the house a few times, perhaps searching for another entrance, perhaps looking for a crack with better vantage, and then left, five minutes later, trekking off in the direction of the mines. Isaac grabbed together his freshly dried clothing along with his blade, and unbarred the door. ¡°Hmm¡ better throw some more coal on the fire, I need them to believe I¡¯m still here¡¡± he muttered. He was fairly certain that the pillar of smoke from the chimney had given him away, initially. In hindsight, that cheery blaze wasn¡¯t such a smart idea. After fueling the fire, he set off into the cold, following the fresh tracks in the slush as shadows began to fall.
As he followed the track, Isaac kept a careful eye out around himself- the tracks may have led one way, but it hardly meant he was safe. Whoever he was following might have doubled back, or worse yet, could have friends. Even so, following the tracks was uneventful. He heard nothing, and he saw nothing, wherever he looked. The path indeed led to the mines; in fact, it led past them. Isaac followed the tracks all the way to the wall of the palisade, almost directly opposite the gate. ¡°Hmm¡ I guess they must have gone over the wall,¡± Isaac said softly. It would not have been an easy task, to be sure. The walls stood ten feet tall, but were mere logs, sharpened to an admittedly dull point, and embedded in the ground on end. However, their greatest protection was surely the layer of ice that they were almost always covered in- ice which should have made climbing the wall an impossibility. Rope, maybe? I don¡¯t see any holes for climbing spikes¡ either way, I¡¯m not going to be able to follow. Still, though, I can¡¯t stay at home¡ that definitely wasn¡¯t a friendly type of person. Sighing, Isaac headed back into the web of houses. I¡¯ll need to leave, but where to?
As he pondered, he walked back towards his home. He would need to pack quickly, before any evildoers returned¡ then he heard a noise, the creaking of a door. A moment later, he heard a soft voice. ¡°Is that you, Isaac?¡±
Chapter 4- Friends in Low Places
Rapidly Isaac turned to the voice; it sounded familiar to him¡ ¡°Sara? Sara! You¡¯re safe!¡± he exclaimed. She was one of the few people his age in town; on the cusp of adulthood, yet not quite recognized as such yet. Her brothers, though younger, were also some of his greatest friends. ¡°Is anyone with you?¡± With a start, he cast his gaze about, searching for anyone- or anything- that might have heard him.
¡°Not here, inside, quickly,¡± Sara hissed, beckoning him inside- in fact, her hand was the only part of her that ever left the shadow of the doorframe.
Perhaps brighter, more observant men might have been suspicious of a figure that was almost totally concealed. Isaac, however, was not- he merely walked through the door. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmed lighting, Sara lightly shut the door, dimming it even further. ¡°It¡¯s still not safe here, c¡¯mon,¡± she muttered. Lightly she kicked back a thick rug, a full bear pelt, revealing a trapdoor. ¡°Root cellar. We can talk there,¡± she murmured, carefully opening the trapdoor.
Isaac may not have been the smartest of men; he may not have been the most observant. Even so, or rather due to those traits, he still obediently entered the cellar. Sara fiddled with the trapdoor a bit, trying to get the rug back in place to hide the cellar entrance. Once she was satisfied, she lowered the hatch, casting them in pitch black darkness- at least, until she struck a match. ¡°There¡¯s a lantern on the table down here, did you see it?¡± she asked, in a more normal tone of voice, instead of her former rasping whisper.
¡°Yeah, I have it,¡± Isaac replied. In truth, he was already grabbing the lantern while she was closing the trapdoor; it was fairly obvious that it was the only possible source of light. ¡°I¡¯m going to grab the match from you, I can feel the wick,¡± he added. A few moments later their surroundings were drenched in light- as were they. The room was a simple affair; against two walls were rows of barrels, another was lined with shelves full of jars, while the fourth held various baskets of produce- potatoes, carrots, and similar. ¡°That¡¯s better. Now, do you have any clue what is going on?¡± he asked, staring intently into Sara¡¯s green eyes.
¡°Nothing,¡± she sighed whilst sitting at the table, twirling a few strands of her long, blond hair. ¡°All I know is I fell asleep down here last night, after I brought our leftovers from dinner down here,¡± she nodded towards a plate covered with a cloth rag. ¡°When I woke up, the cellar door was closed- I came upstairs, and everyone was gone. Mother, father, both of my brothers,¡± Sera¡¯s voice hitched, her eyes tearing up. ¡°I¡ I didn¡¯t pay much attention at first, thinking they might have gone out since the snows ended, but after an hour or two, I realized there was no one outside, at all. I¡ I checked a few houses, and there was nothing.¡± Her voice cracked. ¡°I just didn¡¯t know what to do¡¡± she sobbed.
¡°Hey, hey there¡¡± Isaac said awkwardly. ¡°I wish I could tell you that everything¡¯s going to be alright, but I can¡¯t.¡± Sara let out a labored laugh. ¡°The simple fact is, right now we need to focus on keeping ourselves safe, we really don¡¯t have time to pity ourselves.¡± Sara nodded slightly, tears yet running down her cheeks. ¡°Now, listen up, there¡¯s a lot of things to say and not much time.¡± With that, Isaac related to her the events of his day, what he had seen throughout town.
¡°Alright, so we¡¯ll stay the night here, then head out tomorrow. We¡¯re decided, then?¡± Isaac queried. Ilios had already been dropping when Sara called to him; trying to find their way in the darkness would have been near suicide.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
¡°Yeah,¡± Sara responded. ¡°I just need to grab a few things to prepare.¡±
¡°Alright then. Do you know where your father¡¯s hunting bow is? We¡¯ll likely need to hunt as well once we leave.¡±
¡°Why hunt? Don¡¯t you see how much food there is down here?¡± Sara gestured to the literal shelves of food behind her.
¡°Yes¡ here. We won¡¯t be able to take all of it with us. There¡¯s only so much room in packs, and besides, the jars add too much weight,¡± Isaac said while shaking his head.
¡°Doesn¡¯t your uncle have a horse and cart?¡± Sara asked, tilting her head.
Isaac was silent for a moment. ¡°Stupid, stupid, stupid¡¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°Myself, not you. How did I not think of that?¡± Smacking himself on the head, he continued in a more normal tone. ¡°Yes, yes he does¡ did. Assuming they didn¡¯t take Pixie, too,¡± Pixie being the old mare that his uncle owned. ¡°I¡¯m not holding out hope, though¡ I¡¯ll go to the stables and check what¡¯s left there in the morning. Do you want to stick to the original plan, or come with me?¡±
Sara gave Isaac an odd look. ¡°You were right when you called yourself stupid earlier, stupid. As if I¡¯m going to be left alone again!¡± On that note, she opened the cellar, grabbed a rucksack and started packing.
¡°Are you sure you have what you need?¡± Isaac asked. The night before, Sara had finished packing remarkably quickly- he presumed it had been due to fear of being found. As far as he had seen, she merely threw a few articles of clothing into a bag, along with a rope, matches, and other such small supplies. Furthermore, she belted a long dagger to her waist, in easy reach if anything went wrong. Isaac, on the other hand, now carried her father¡¯s bow; it wasn¡¯t much, merely being for hunting small game, perhaps the odd elk or two if the hunter was lucky, but it at least gave him options. ¡°We¡¯ll probably not come back; my uncle should have any general supplies we need.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Sara replied. ¡°Let¡¯s go now, hopefully before whoever you saw comes back.¡±
The stables were a ramshackle affair; they were positioned on the extreme edge of town, away from any houses, in order to keep the stench of manure away. The building itself was in shambles, due to lack of any upkeep- the only animal even in it, unless the town had some kind of visitor, was Pixie. After all, the frozen tundra was hardly hospitable to draft animals. As it was, Gregor had to buy grain simply to feed Pixie- grass hardly ever had the time to grow between the snows.
As Isaac and Sara approached the stables, Isaac felt a growing sense of unease- his neck started prickling, making him feel like someone was watching. ¡°Careful,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Bad feeling.¡± As he approached the door, he gave a glance about- seeing nothing. Drawing his sword from its sheathe, he grasped the door handle, and flung it wide. After a cursory glance, he sheathed the blade. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Just Pixie, though she¡¯s a hungry one now. She hasn¡¯t been fed in two days.¡± Isaac poured some grain out of a sack for the mare, then groomed her while she ate. Once she was finished eating, he spoke. ¡°Alright, the wagon¡¯s outside, but the tack is in here. I¡¯ll get her straightened out, it should only take a few minutes unless something¡¯s broken.¡± Sure enough, he soon led a fully geared carthorse out of the stables.
The horse was hitched up to the wagon without issue, yet Isaac still felt a prickling sensation. There has to be someone watching. Maybe the archer, from before? I never did see him¡ Still, though, whoever it is seems to be happy enough just watching. Just have to keep an eye out¡ ¡°C¡¯mon, hop up,¡± he told Sara nervously. ¡°We need to be out of here as fast as possible.¡±
Chapter 5- Let Fly!
It was a short trip back to Isaac¡¯s home, and thankfully enough, an uneventful one. ¡°Alright, you start packing Uncle¡¯s things from the chests, I need to see if I can find his map,¡± Isaac ordered, opening the door. Without a map, they were as good as dead; settlements on the Serad were sparse, after all. As Isaac entered his Uncle¡¯s room, he once again felt the allure of the strange green gem. This time, however, he had a mission; shaking thoughts of the gemstone out of his head, he reached for the drawer of the nightstand; sure enough, his Uncle¡¯s map was there, along with his strongbox for valuables. ¡°Found you¡¡± he muttered. Quickly he ran out, grabbing a sack, and unceremoniously dumped the contents of the drawer into it, along with the gem and envelope. He didn¡¯t know what they were, but they were small, and possibly valuable- Isaac wasn¡¯t about to leave anything behind. Once he finished up, he started helping Sara clear out the rest of the home; they were taking practically the complete stock of his Uncle¡¯s store- clothing, furs, foodstuffs, various small tools, cookware, and the like, including a long dagger he belted to his waist next to his arming sword.
¡°Not a moment too soon,¡± Isaac said once they finished up. ¡°Let¡¯s get going, quick. I still feel like someone¡¯s watching us.¡± They had spent nearly an hour ransacking the small hut; perhaps not the wisest of actions, but supplies were crucial, and nowhere was there a better supply than at the merchant¡¯s house. Sara waited for him on the wagon; Isaac turned to shut the door, from mere habit. As he yanked it shut, an arrow flew past, embedding itself in the wood of the door, mere inches above his hand.
Isaac¡¯s mind kicked into overdrive. ¡°Sara, archer! Care!¡± he shouted. Mind straining, he quickly dashed to the cart- there was only one arrow, so there must be only one archer, surely? Hopefully, at least. ¡°Get us moving!¡± he yelled at Sara, while he clambered over the sidewall of the wagon. As she snapped the reins, another arrow flew over his head. Why are they only aiming at me? He wondered briefly, but discarded the thought as he peered around for the shooter.
As an arrow lodged itself into the sidewall of the cart mere inches under his nose, he chose the better part of valor, ducking below the cart wall- though not before he locked eyes with the archer trying to kill him; a glimpse which terrified him to the very depths of his soul. The piercing gaze of the archer¡¯s soulless black eyes felt like claws raking through his body, through his mind. In truth, he¡¯d not crouched down of his own volition; it was an animalistic response, an instinct to hide from what was surely a terrible predator- and he, most definitely its hapless, helpless prey.
What¡ what could possibly have made that thing, he despaired. Monstrous, monstrous, a nightmare walking. He had seen nothing other than those wretched orbs of night embedded within the thing¡¯s skull, the rest of it completely covered in a black cloak, yet even that was enough to send him quaking. A few seconds later the cart hit something, perhaps a divot in the path, perhaps a rock, perhaps something else. Whatever it was sent Isaac careening off the open back of the cart, landing with a dull thud upon the half-frozen soil. Scrabbling to his feet, he cast his gaze around- the cart, and Sara, were thundering off into the distance, though he could still hear faint cries of ¡°Heel, Pixie, heel!¡± The horse must have been as terrified as he; maddened with fear, seeking nothing other than to escape the horrors behind.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Still partially dazed, both from the fall, and from his experience of looking into the face of a living nightmare, it took Isaac a moment to realize that an arrow had taken residence in his left calf, yet the pain was quick to set in. With a grimace and a groan, he made for the nearest cover he could, barely managing to drag himself along, until he managed to unceremoniously collapse behid a pile of coal next to a house; still, it was better than nothing. In truth, he was amazed that he wasn¡¯t shot again while he staggered towards his temporary cover; he hadn¡¯t even heard an arrow flying by. Catching his breath, he wondered for a moment. Is this it? Is this where I die? Seventeen summers seems cruelly young to die.
With a sigh, he carefully peeked over the top of the coal pile, expecting another arrow to come flying down and end it all- yet the air was silent, save for the slight murmur of a gentle wind. He saw no sign of the archer, and what it meant, he knew not, nor did he care. The sheer pain he was in was enough to occupy his mind, as he collapsed back down to the frozen ground.
A few minutes later he heard a gentle voice calling out to him. ¡°Isaac? Isaac? Where are you?¡±
Hoarsely he called back, voice cracking. ¡°Here, Sara, here. Urgh, over here.¡± He had managed to staunch the flow of blood from his leg with his shirt sleeve, but it was far from a perfect fix. Far from it, considering the arrow was still through his calf, almost like a spit through a roast.
Sure enough, Sara¡¯s cheery face popped up above the coal pile mere moments afterwards, though her countenance soon darkened. ¡°You¡¯re hurt¡ is it just the leg?¡± she demanded. Isaac confirmed, grimacing. ¡°I¡¯ll get the cart, I know we packed some bandages out of your uncle¡¯s stock.¡± As she ran off, Isaac grimaced again. The pain was near overwhelming; he could feel himself starting to slip away from reality, yet sheer tenacity kept him going for a little bit longer. It took a few minutes, but he eventually heard the telltale plodding of horse hooves on the soil, of a wagon creaking, of Sara¡¯s sweet, sweet voice.
¡°I¡¯m coming, don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be there in a second. Just have to find the right bag¡¡± He heard her curse under her breath, ¡°Where are those stupid bandages¡ c¡¯mon, c¡¯mon¡ There!¡± As she rounded the corner, cloths in hand, he groaned again. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Isaac, I can help you. I was helping Momma, after all¡¡± Sara quieted for a moment, then continued. ¡°I¡¯ll get you set right in just a second, just stay calm.¡± Her mother was the village¡¯s de facto apothecary, and Sara had helped her mother with many an injury, Isaac knew¡ though he wondered how often arrows came up.
¡°Bite down on this, Isaac, don¡¯t worry,¡± Sara calmly ordered him, placing a rolled-up piece of leather in his mouth. Sounding a bit more nervous, she continued. ¡°It¡¯ll just hurt a little bit, okay?¡±
A few seconds later, Isaac was blissfully unconscious as she administered to his wound, uncaring about whatever enemies might yet be lurking in the shadows...