Earth

Alex

I argued with Jalholm for an age over what he had said. ‘It’s impossible, how could it be Earth thousands of years ago? You’re talking rubbish!’ But I knew that I was just venting my frustration at not being able to really believe what he was saying. That and the fear that gnawed within me that what he had said was true, and that the creature Dar’cen really had devastated Earth long ago… and planned to do it all again at some point in the future.

Eventually I stopped my ranting, for that was what it was, pure illogical ranting, and I opened yet another bottle of wine.

All conversation was then relegated to small and petty topics, both of us somehow silently agreeing to avoid any further talk of the demon, Dar’cen.

Jalholm told me then of his life, his life before Dar’cen’s coming; before even his appointment to the court.

Before he became a vain and conceited man – his words not mine.

As he had told David and I earlier, he had not come from rich or aristocratic stock. Jalholm was an only child, his parents from the common folk, neither with the magic spark. Though deep down somewhere that spark must have been present in one or both of them, for it was very strong in him, Jalholm said.

His father was a Cobbler, a worthy occupation, but not one that paid extremely well. His mother mended dresses and clothes, not a trained seamstress, but she did well enough. Between the two of them they made a reasonable living, being neither poor nor wealthy.

When Jalholm’s magic showed itself, once they understood his capabilities and the strength of his gifts, things changed.

They had always loved and cared for him, squirrelling away what they could to help in his later life. But all talk then turned to the Citadel and the education he would receive at that so very prestigious establishment, while all their efforts went into saving and scrimping to send him there – his mother took on extra mending work, and his father stayed long hours at his workshop.

Though all was for his benefit, Jalholm began to resent what they did, for now they had far less time for him, and what little time they did have was spent in talk of the Citadel, the new life he would have, and what he would achieve. Jalholm wanted none of it; he only wanted his parents back, and his life as it had been.

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Looking back, Jalholm could see that they had given up everything to send him to the Citadel, and that all they did was to ensure his life was better than theirs.

But back then, he began to hate them for it. Hated that they no longer just loved him for the child he was.

By the time he left home, his resentment for his parents had turned close to hatred, and as much as he loathed the thought of going to the Citadel, he almost welcomed it for the escape it would give him from his mother and father.

His early years at the Citadel did not help. At first he was mocked and shunned for his poor upbringing – poor at least by the standard of his aristocratic peers.

Then, as his talents grew and he began to shine in his studies, so the disdain he was first shown changed to resentment and open hostility.

He was teased and bullied constantly, and this in turn fuelled his growing hatred of his parents, the ones who had forced his new life upon him.

So, cut off from love and friendship, Jalholm threw himself into his studies, determined to be better, much better, than all his pompous and wealthy peers.

His story was not unique, I thought. Lots of children suffered far worse here on Earth than Jalholm had, but his story went a long way to explaining the man himself.

###

Jalholm slept in the spare bedroom and I lay in my bed pondering what it was all about. I really didn’t have a clue what was going on. I had our stories, Sarah’s dreams and what we had written, and I had all that David had told me, and now there was Jalholm’s story to add into the mix.

Was I mad to consider any of it, any of the things that these strangers had brought into my life. I should just go back to the normal life I had before. I had only known David for little over year, and Jalholm for mere days. So why did I so easily believe what they’d said?

Why had I allow them to change my life so completely? I had resigned from my job, traipsed after David all around the world, and now I harboured an escaped madman who was not only wanted by the authorities in America, but was being hunted by the henchmen of a demonic monster who destroyed worlds for fun.

It was insane and unbelievable, but nevertheless, deep down, I knew that it was all true. I also knew that I had to hear the rest of Jalholm’s story, and even if for some reason he refused to go on, I would somehow force it from him. But then what? What would we do when he finished, and how would we evade those that hunted him?

As I drifted off into drunken slumber, something nudged at my mind, something David had said when he talked of his time with Dar’cen.

Something that Dar’cen had said to him – ‘He took from me all my memories, mocking as he did so at how pathetic my life and my world were, and how one day, one day soon after he had re-conquered Ellas, he would find a way to my world and make it his yet again.’