10 YEARS AGO
"Rowan, boy! Come 'ere!" Sweat collected on Rowan's forehead as the hot sun battered his body. He drove his hoe into the soft earth one more time before heading towards his father's voice. It was an average day, one that he would come to remember for his entire life.
"What is it, father?" Rowan asked, panting.
His father put his big, calloused hand on Rowan's shoulder. "I think it's time. You're ready to see the Cave."
"Really?" His eyes lit up.
"Now, remember." His father put on a more serious tone and kneeled down to look directly into Rowan's eyes. "In that cave is the darkest secret of our village. We've decided that it's our duty to protect it. Only the strongest men can be up to the task. What you're going to see will scar you, but you must be courageous. Understand?" He nodded. "Good. Follow me."
Hands locked, Rowan and his father headed for the gate. They smiled and waved at the passing villagers. The harvest was coming soon, and everyone was out working hard. The son and his father continued along the dusty dirt road until they stopped at the wooden gate.
"Henry! You're looking well! Haven't seen you in ages!" A guard clad in shining silver armor set his drink down and leapt out of his chair to give Rowan's father a hearty handshake. "I see you got Rowan with you today. Say, how're you doing, boy?" The guard, Brom, kneeled down and rustled Rowan's hair. He scrunched his nose at Brom's drunken breath. Brom got back up and addressed Henry again, this time more serious. "If you've got lil' Rowan with you, you must be heading there. I'll let you on through. Listen, be careful. Reports've been saying that they've heard some noises from there. Come out alive, ok?" Brom gave Rowan and Henry a slap on the back and they continued into the wilderness.
---
"This is your last chance to turn back, son. Are you sure you're ready?" Rowan looked up at his father and gave a single nod. "Alright, let's go." Striking a match and lighting the lantern in his hand, Henry gave Rowan a push on the back and they descended into the mouth of the cave. Their footsteps bounced on its most walls. Water dripped from the ceiling, and large stalagmites rose out of the ground as if to ward them away. Still, the father and his son pressed on, deeper into the darkness, closer and closer to the end. At a crossroads, a sign hung crooked on the wall, pointing toward the right. Ignoring the sign and choosing the left path, Henry led his child into the very deepest parts of the cave.
After a long time, they stood in front of a giant doorway, huge wooden doors looming over them, holding something back.
"Rowan." Rowan, Rowan, Rowan, the cave answered.
"Yes?"
"Whatever you do, don't scream. You will be haunted by what you see next." And with that, Henry grasped the cool handles of the doors and pulled them open.
"A–" Rowan clasped both hands around his mouth, trying to contain the screams that refused to cease. The scene that lay in front of him was more horrible than the darkest novels in his village. The walls and floor were splattered and coated with dried blood. Piles of bones littered the floor and some skulls were even buried in the walls. And in the center of it all, a boy. He looked a few years older than Rowan. He had black hair and his head was cast downward, eyes closed. Metal cuffs held his scraped, raw wrists and chains connected them to the wall, suspending him in the air in a cross-like shape. Huge, wooden nails and stakes pierced his arms and body, decorated with dried blood and ripping his shirt.
"W... W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w–" Henry lightly put a hand over his son's mouth.
"Shhh..." He soothed Rowan. "Breathe. In, out, in, out. Calm down, Rowan." He released his hand, and Rowan forced himself to take long, deliberate breaths.
"W-what hap-pened?" He asked carefully, trying not to raise his voice.
"Let me tell you the story of the boy here. About 70 years ago, the old elders of our village found this cave. Some of the younger folk searched it, and they found this boy lying on the ground, sleeping. Back then, this room was just like any other part of the cave. They tried to wake the lad, but he wouldn't move. All the nurses and doctors of the neighboring villages began flowing in, going into the cave and trying to wake the boy. But almost none came out. One night, one survivor limped out of that cave with a mad look in her eyes. She said that the more time they spent in that room, they started becoming... angry. They began snapping and lashing out at each other. The room grew into a cesspool of sin, people hitting each other and lusting after each other. Eventually, all of them went insane and started to kill each other and themselves. Still, the boy slept.
"That night, a group of warriors from the village ventured into the room. They pounded these stakes into his body as hard as they could, by ones, twos, fives, tens. They thought that killing him would dispel the curse he brought. But, when they were finally finished, he was still breathing. Scared out of their minds, they ran away. Later, they brought chains and held him up like you see now. To try to stop him from escaping the day he might wake up. Then, they sealed off the room with those doors and decided that all the men of the village would protect the secret of the boy from spreading."
A long silence passed. Rowan looked around the room, taking in the scene, trying to overcome it. However, his body still shook uncontrollably in fear. He looked up at the boy's face. Then, suddenly, he gasped.
"Nobody knows who this boy is," Henry still continued. Rowan tried to tug on his sleeve but his hands were frozen. "Some say he's a demon. A few of the elders even went so far as to say he was one of the Guardians from the old fables. What do you believe, Rowan?"
"F-"
"What is it?"
"F-f-f-f-f-father, l-look." And as Henry did what his son asked, he too became paralyzed.
There, hanging up, body mangled, the boy's eyelids began to lift, revealing ghostly white eyes that glowed in the dim room. A low sigh sounded from his lips, and he began to raise his head lazily. He still couldn't seem to see them. Suddenly, he coughed, racking his body with spasms as he dangled. Rowan and his father jumped back in surprise.
"Ah..." the boy started. His voice was tired and sad. "Ah, it hurts... Where... Where am I?" He still couldn't seem to see. "Who's there? Takot? Ross? Alouette?" He laughed weakly. "Where are you guys? Don't play tricks on me–" As Rowan stared, unmoving, into the boy's eyes, he could see the moment that the clouds in them scattered and his eyes widened. He gasped. "Who are you? Where am I?" Beginning to panic, he looked around – the worst thing that could've happened.
"Huh? Huuhh?" The boy looked as far as his head would let him, realizing the blood, the bones, the death that encased him. Terror slowly creeped onto his face. "Ah..." A sound escaped his lips, and after that, a long and deafening silence. Rowan tried to creep away–
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!" A completely unimaginable force left his mouth and he screamed a bloodcurdling scream that struck fear in Rowan's very bones. The earth shook and a strong wind pushed against Rowan's and his father's body. He tried to cross his arms, but he was about to lose his footing. Pieces of rock fell from the ceiling, and the chains impaled in the wall shook loose. Still screaming, the boy fell to the ground and curled into a ball, digging his hands into his messy hair. Eyes and mouth wide open, he continued to scream. Rowan fell on the ground, unable to control his body against the wind and the earthquake. Henry extended a hand to him.
"Quick, Rowan, my son! We have to leave now! Before the cave collapses!" With all his might, Henry heaved the doors open as fast as he could, but a large rock fell and forced him to the ground.
"FATHER!" Rowan screamed, but his father was hopelessly trapped under the rubble. Despite knowing this, Rowan tried to grab his hand, desperately attempting to pull him out. Henry slapped his hand away.
"Rowan, leave me! GO!"
"No, father! I won't leave you behind!"
"Rowan, do as I say and leave!" With the last of his strength, Henry reached out and pushed his son away. Rowan fell to the floor and scrambled to get up, running as fast as his legs would take him.
Rowan's ears rang as he flew out of the cave. He dodged rocks and his body was scraped as he ran. He kept looking back, but he never saw his father running behind him. And as Rowan's world and the cave collapsed around him, words could still be heard echoing from the depths of the cave. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
8 YEARS AGO
A girl crept cautiously through the underbrush, holding a bow drawn and knocked with an arrow, prepared. She pauses, crouching low and listens. Crack. A stick nearby snaps, the crunching of leaves signalling someone or something walking along through the trees. Counting the steps under her breath, she turns, pulling the bowstring back and pointing it at the boy.
Nothing. He continues to walk, looking straight ahead, oblivious to her arrow pointed straight at him. She could let go and the arrow would go right through the side of his head, but nothing. She lowers the bow, taking the arrow out and putting it into her quiver. She walks cautiously over to the boy and waves her hand in front of his face. No response."Excuse me?" She asks, cocking her head to one side. Still, nothing. Nothing but the sounds of his muttering to himself. "I'm sorry," he was muttering, over and over.
For a moment she just watched, observing him. He had messy, dishevelled black hair and was fairly tall. When she looked at his face, she saw his eyes. Bright white eyes. She scooted back slightly, those eyes unnerving her. That can't be natural.
That's when she glanced to see what he was wearing. Blood. Oh god, there was blood everywhere. He was wearing white shorts and a black shirt, but they were covered in rips and holes and there were blood stains all over them. His wrists were scarred and had metal cuffs on them, but nothing. He wasn't even paying attention to the fact that he was barefoot just walking through the forest. Where the hell did he come from? She walked back towards him, still keeping her distance and tried to listen to his muttering.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he continued, but also said stuff regarding someone else, that he had to find someone, but his words were sometimes cut short and his sentences were incomprehensible. Then, he just collapsed.
"Oh god.." she said to herself, moving cautiously over to the collapsed boy. With a sigh, she took his arm and hoisted him over her shoulder. Good god, he was heavy. With a groan, she begun to walk back towards her town through the trees. "I wonder what the others are going to think about this..."
PRESENT DAY
I don't want to do this, I think. The steps to the Scrawny Dog Tavern spiral up the elevated platform, but despite it's height, the smell of booze still runs rampant through the whole street. I ascend the wet, creaky steps and step inside. The full force of the dingy hellhole hits me in the face and I scrunch my nose. Will they kick me out for being a minor? The inside is hot and I already begin sweating. I take a seat at the bar and wait there for a while, looking left and right. I try to catch my reflection in one of the large bottles. It seems the spell is still working for now, I think, looking at my blue eyes. Not long after that, an older man sits down next to me. His face is wrinkled, and his eyes are downcast. He has a plump belly, gray hair and a beard to match.
“Mind if I take this seat, lad?” he asks softly with a smile that hides a deep sadness.
“Be my guest,” I reply, gesturing to the stool next to me. With a grunt, the man sits down. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“You're a kind one,” he says. “I'll take that offer.” Digging into my pocket and trying not to be noticed, I conjure up a few coins and take them out. I hand them to the bartender and let the man order. When he comes back with a large wooden mug, I open conversation.
“My name's Lyari,” I say.
“Lyari, eh? Unusual name. Elvish?”
“A little,” I say, blushing. Why couldn't you have picked a more normal name? “My, uh, my parents studied elvish culture for a while, so they named me similarly.”
The man nodded. “Thank the Guardians you aren't near the capital, eh?” He tries to laugh, but I stay silent. “Good name, Lyari, good name.” He extends his hand. “Name's Brom. Pleasure to have you as my drinking mate today.” I smile and take his hand. We face each other for a while, and Brom starts to inspect my face. “Say, we haven't met before, have we?”
I cock my head to the side. “I don't believe so?”
“Mm, you're right,” he says, dismissing the thought. “I would've remembered someone named Lyari. Anyway, you look pretty young; what're you doing out here in this run-down place?”
“I'm trying to find someone.” Brom seems like a good man deep down, so I can at least trust him with that.
“Nobody comes here for purest reasons, huh?”
“What about you, Brom?” I ask, turning the question on him. “Why are you here?”
Brom pauses and his sad smile comes back. He looks down at his drink and begins talking. “I lost a good friend some years back. Murdered. He was a good man. He had a son, you know. That young fellow has been like a beast ever since. He's already high-ranking in the army. Says he wants to get revenge on his father's killer. And here I am, broken man, floating from bar to bar, trying to drink away my problems. Hell, I don't even know how many years it's been.”
I put my hand on Brom's shoulder. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.”
“It's fine,” he says, looking at me. “Young boy like you shouldn't worry yourself with an old man's regrets. You want to find someone, right? What's this person like?”
A bottle breaks behind us and some voices get louder. Crap, I have to move. “Well, I guess he's an old friend of mine,” I say, talking a little faster. “A little younger. We got separated a couple years ago when a group of Fear cultists took him away. He was born with powerful magic, and the cults just happened to be nearby when word got out. He was gone within the week.”
Brom lets a short, painful silence pass to give me comfort. “Dark world we live in. I'm sorry to hear about him. So I'm guessing you're trying to find the cult that took him?” I nod. “Well, you're sitting next to the right person. You learn a lot in bars like these. There's been lots of reports of magic children being spirited away in a place a few towns over called Ramshorn. Reports of some people with robes wandering at night, too. Here, I'll give you a map.” As he fumbles in his cloak for the map, more bottles break. People start to hit each other. Tables turn over. I wipe some sweat off my forehead. I need to leave as soon as possible. Finally, Brom pulls out a scroll and hands it to me. I rip it out of his hands.
“I'm sorry, I need to go.” I rush toward the door, but as I'm about to leave, I stop and turn back. “It was nice meeting you, Brom. Um... I know I don't have the right to say this, and I don't really know much about what happened in your past, but I don't think your friend would want to see you here mourning him.”
Brom looks at me, astonished. He sits there for a while, then lets out a loud, ringing laughter. “You're right, boy! What have I been doing?” He turns around in his chair to face me fully and shakes my hand. “You're an interesting one, Lyari. I wish you luck in finding your friend.”
“Thank you, Brom. I hope your future is bright.” With that, I turn around and exit the tavern. As I look back, a chair smashes through a window. I'm sorry, I think to myself.
I turn back and start towards the forest, practicing in my head how I'm going to tell Shyael that I have to leave.
I think this one is long enough as it is))
