The wind howled, inconsiderate of those within its screaming maw. The violent brush of the waves crashed against the edges of the crude boat. Rellan Molnar sat firmly, not letting the tide of water knock his concentration. He focused on the slow bobbing bead at the end of his line, it glittered like a pearl along the water. the sun gleamed, radiating his face and filling his eyes with its grandeur. Yet he held fast and remained attentive of the surface of the reflective water. Rellan felt the weight of the rod in his hands, he prepared his senses for the moment he longed for. A wave came past the floating bead, causing it to fly up with the wave and descend onto the other side, out of sight. At this moment the atmosphere changed, the natural flow of the waves was pounded by sudden explosive movement. It had arrived.
Rellan hauled on his rod, the moment he awaited had arrived and he was more than ready. The boat shook and creaked with the sudden burst of activity. But the young boy fought the onslaught. He skilfully utilised all his movement and strength to fight of the panicked foes. But at last, he managed to subdue them, and he claimed his prize for his extensive patience.
Out from the water flew a beautiful crimson red Entraral, its reflective scales blurred Rellan's view as he reached out to catch the writhing prey. The wide-eyed eyed creature was as large as the fourteen-year old's slender arms. It weighed far more than he could hold and was forced to drop it quickly within the crate he had on board, sending the boat crashing once again.
At this moment, he felt elated. His patience had been rewarded. It wasn't often that he obtained these victories, most of the time he sat on the waves bored to oblivion. The Entraral were a elusive lot – rarer than most fish in the lake and also rarely coming close to the surface. They herded together, upwards of twenty in a single group, but these groups were not easy to find. The only way to tell whether they were there, was if the slimy Kater Eel stopped attacking your line. For the Entraral scare all those congealed pests away. This catch was no easy feat.
With his victory and dusk approaching, Rellan had to rush back to the shore and say goodbye to treasures of Lake Divide. They had served him well, ever since he embarked on this boat for the first time with his father all those years ago. He had numerous perilous and thrilling encounters on these waves, in this boat. Like the time he managed to attract a Lake-bound Orca to himself. it bit a large chunk out the stern of the boat and he would have sunk if it were not for the spare planks he had accidentally left on the boat, which he was using at the time to build the fishing hut on the beach. The recklessness of the waves did not hurt his fondness for it, he loved it no matter what peril it put it in. The thrill of it all allowed him to forgive all transgressions the lake made against him.
He pulled on the oars as hard as he could and raced back to the dock before sunset.
As he pulled up across the ramshackle, half-built hut on the dock he hauled all his equipment, bait and prizes off his boat and secured the boat onto the dock. The hut was situated on a rise across from the dock, but below a large rockface, looming over the tiny cabin. Only three walls secured the inside, as the wall facing the lake was purposefully not finished, this allowed the inside to gaze onto the majesty of the largest lake in the empire. Rellan walked up behind the rise, climbing a small path tumbling gravel and into the small shack. Inside was a homely desk, rack along the left wall and a small den of rough hemp blankets and pillows facing out towards the picturesque bay. Contentment was not a feeling possible within this place, only the truest and purest of emotion could emerge when sitting idly here. Rellan sat. He gazed upon the sight he had witnessed many a time. The orange sunset, the radiant reflections and the golden shoreline spreading east and west for eternity. This place echoed the sound of peace and vibrated with the essence of frailty.
This vision is what he imagined those tragically dead would find. This place, he imagined, was where the purest ghosts would coalesce, and the soul would find its solace in the loss of life. Here they would understand and accept. Rellan thought about this often, ghosts, and those gone. None he knew had departed from the mortal coil, but he often wondered where they would all go. His younger brother Myrn often claimed to be plagued by sprits wandering unseen, but his outbursts made it seem closer to an ailed mind rather than supernatural sight. was always like that, screaming about one thing or another. His entire life he was consumed by feelings of fear and anxiety, he rarely saw him with a calm expression. His older brother Roman on the other hand, was an abrasive, rash individual. He was often intensely reproachful towards Rellan, isolating him outside the family. It doesn't affect him all that much, he likes being on his own. But being forcefully cast out has put a toll on him, as the question of "why?" presumes all else.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Feeling soured, and only wanting more to retreat into procrastination. He rose from his comfort and took the harsh wooden box containing his catch. Rellan strode up a small and tight narrow corridor up through the cliff face, it came out upon a large rocky plain. Various patches of grass littered the surrounding plain of rocks and sandy dirt, but through it all a lightly trodden trail was visible.
As he ambled down the path, he also walked spent a moment recollecting. He had memorised all the slight curves in this path, the clusters of rock, all the pebbles, the small fauna which intersected him along the path and all the hills and clusters which ran parallel to it. He had ran this track so often it was etched into his brain, routine had branded this place into his being. This small and calming path provided ample time for reflection on his daily life. He used it to think his present and contemplate undecidedly on his future. Rellan wanted to continue living life the same way he had done for years. However, as he grew older, he grew increasingly uncertain about how he should spend his time. He knew exceedingly well that his time was limited, especially when it could be taken away so swiftly. He was torn between a life of calm on the beachfront and the unexpected and adventure away from it. He was content as it stood, which made the decision significantly more difficult. He recollected all the happiness the lake bestowed upon him, but he knew that there was more to it, that what he felt now could be a mound in a world of mountains. The only thing that he was certain on was that the decision was his own.
As he reached the crest of the hill, he looked upon the hamlet of Maogh, a place with only a residency of 20 people, most among them women and children. He squinted his slitted eyes. It was oddly quiet, usually you would see the old man Balast sharpening his hunting arrows on a stool next to his shack at this time of day, however his quiver and longbow were racked on the wall with Balast nowhere to be seen.
No matter, he thought, for there should be a reasonable explanation as to where he was. He scampered down the rock laden hill, bounding from slab to slab down the steep hill. Driftleaf swept past him as he crossed Balast's shack on the outskirts of the hamlet. The shack looming and dark, but also seemingly empty. No sound coming from inside. Anywhere for that matter. Not a single echo, noise, voice coming from within the village.
Rellan was uneasy, it had never been this quiet. Ever. Normally you would hear the faint murmur of someone inside their home or a dog barking at a passing bird. But nothing?
He placed his items next to the shack and started wandering towards the village centre, now on a more laden path of gravel. A mass of wilting trees and buildings blocked the view into the well and circle which stood as the meeting place and also communal area. There was a faint glimmer through the windows to his right and left, the suns reflection moving with him, keeping track. He emerged through the trees, looking upon the faint structure of a well.
An overwhelming stink of rot overcame him. Mania took over Rellan's mind as he looked to his left and witnessed a large stake erected in the centre of the circle and hammered to it were the stripped corpses of children. Pen, Little Ben, Kolt. The names of his friends whom he immediately recognised. Laid bare in front of him, hanging, nailed to on large pole of wood. Their faces strewn with agony, eyes in the back of their heads, tears slathered along their cheeks mouths gaped in terror. They had suffered.
More corpses he couldn't bear to examine were crudely pinned with their hands as the anchor points to the stake. At the bottom of the stake, a circle was drawn, where the bodies of various adults lay. All dismembered. But their limbs placed so their figure was recognisable. Some children lay crumpled at the bottom of the stake, after their weak joints had given out and flesh tore. One child, Pen, her elbow joints and flesh starting to tear while Rellan stared wide-eyed at the sight, fell. Splattering to the floor with a deafening clump. The sound so deathly and horrific Rellan instinctually sought to cover his ears and avert his eyes. He stared down at the floor. Everything seemed so distant for him.
Rellan whipped his head around, his eyes shook with anxious fervour. The shadows were stilted, flickering within the gaze of the deafening sun. The faint flicker of candlelight within the windows. There was light everywhere, penetrating his sunburnt mind. A wave of nausea overtook him along with more of the stench of rot.
His stomach crumpled and contracted; his entire throat burned with the emptying of his insides. He keeled over the gravel and dirt ground. His knees splattered when they made contact. They landed in a pool of vomit and blood – both coming from him.
His body flopped backwards, onto his back, unable to keep himself upright anymore. He crawled to the shade, seeking cover from the oppressive burden that which the light forces upon him.
He sought shelter within the mass of rotted trees, for there he would surely find comfort. Once he reached there, he settled for a second, but his mind overridden with the rot and infected by images of mass slaughter, his mind was assailed.
He lay there, unknowing - naïf.