Darkness
Blood
Lightning
Shapes
Teeth
Biting
Clawing
Swinging
Shouting
Blood
Nightmares
Fighting
Slaughtering
Screaming
Escape
Rage
The voice
Escape
The voice knows
Close
Massacring
Death
The voice
Escaping
The voice knows
The voice
The voice knows
----------------------------------------
The sun shone brightly in the sky above as a few clouds sprinkled the sky like tufts of fur scattered across an enormous ocean. A gentle breeze caused the grass to sway as small bugs hopped and flew and sang discordant songs. A simple, wooden home stood near the edge of the tree line, made from timber cut from those very woods, as two small children ran around, screaming and laughing, chasing a tabby cat. Erik watched his two children as they played, taking a short break from splitting firewood to wipe the sweat from his forehead and drink a glass from the bucket of water his wife, Nima, had left out for him. Lucan had just reached five years old and was appropriately showing how much faster a five-year-old was than his barely two-year-old sister, Avis, as she toddled around the grass. Erik laughed softly to himself as Lucan bragged to his sister, who could not understand him when he spoke so fast to her. He heaved his axe back onto his shoulder and made ready to swing it back down again on the unfortunate piece of wood sitting in his block when he saw motion in the woods. A shadowed figure was moving towards him.
“Lucan, take your sister inside now!”
Lucan did not understand the reason for the tone in his father’s voice, but he understood that it meant he needed to listen. He scooped his sister up as best as his tiny body could and ran for the door to the house. Erik did not know what the creature was, but he knew anything brave enough or hungry enough to come to his home would most likely have no discretion on what it killed. He readied his axe in the best fighting stance he could muster, slowly backing away from the trees, hoping to give himself more time before the attack came. The shape lurched and stumbled forward as Erik ran through every monster he knew or had ever heard of, fearing some kind of undead that would be impossible to kill without a Gift.
A man stepped into the light of the day. He was entirely naked, covered in open wounds in many places along his body, blood running down his torso, dripping from his arms and legs. Underneath all the slashes and cuts were hundreds of scars across his body, the biggest being a circular scar in the center of his chest. His dark hair was long and unkempt, falling well past his shoulders and down his back. A ragged and torn beard adorned his face, and he was covered in some dried black liquid all over him that mixed with the new and dried blood. He carried an elegant sword in one hand, the tip dragging along the ground beside him, a sheath in the other. The blade was covered in the same dried black fluid, but the sword looked otherwise in perfect condition, a dark gemstone inlaid in the guard glowing with an iridescent light.
“State your business, stranger!” Erik called out to the man.
The man’s response was to fall face-first into the ground and stop moving.
----------------------------------------
Aldric had to use all his strength to pull open his eyelids. His body felt like a mountain had collapsed on top of him and been left there. His head screamed in agony, and his lips were dry and cracked. His eyes burned as they attempted poorly to adjust to the light. His throat was raw, and he hardly was able to croak out a word as a bare whisper. He tried to push himself up but felt his wrist catch. Craning his neck up as best he could, he could see his arms and legs were bound to the sides of the bed he was in. His eyes finally focused to allow him to see he was lying on a simple bed in a wooden room. A small table sat next to him, and the door was closed. He tried again to call out, but his throat failed again. He was wearing a simple tunic and pants, but he was barefoot. He let his head fall back down and stared at the ceiling above him. He could barely hear the sounds of conversation outside the door but could not make out anything being said.
After a short or long time, he was unsure, the door opened. He raised his head again to see a slender woman with rich brown hair entering before she shrieked and dropped the wooden bowl she had been carrying, spilling some kind of soup all over the floor.
“Erik! He’s awake!” She cried out, staring at Aldric, who stared back, unable to speak.
A man rushed in behind her, a woodcutter’s axe in his hands. He was a relatively large man, most likely raised on a farm, with an obviously forced face meant to intimidate him, but Aldric could see the fear in his emerald eyes. He had seen it in men during battles before. This man was not certain he could kill Aldric.
“Who are you?! Why have you come to our home?!” Erik shouted, his voice breaking slightly.
Aldric tried to respond, but it came out as a hissing breath. The brunette woman slapped Erik’s arm.
“I’ll get him some water. He obviously needs a drink.”
She left and returned with a cup. She started to cross the room before Erik stopped her.
“Careful, Nima. He could be dangerous.”
“He’s tied down to the bed,” She said with a roll of her eyes.
Nima walked over to Aldric and poured the water into his mouth. He tried to swallow as much as he could before coughs wracked his body, his damaged throat burning. He tried to speak his thanks, but still, no sound would come from his throat.
“That’s enough,” Erik said from the doorway, and Nima stepped back.
“You still cannot speak?” She asked Aldric.
He shook his head slowly, the motion causing his aching head to swim in pain.
“Untie him,” She commanded Erik.
“You can not be —” Erik started before she gently touched her husband’s arm to stop him.
“He couldn’t hurt us even if he wanted to. Untie him. He’s been lying in this bed for days,” She repeated.
Erik grumbled but followed the order. He placed the axe down next to the doorway and went to the bed, where he began to undo the knots.
“Just know, I will kill you if I have to,” He mumbled to Aldric.
Aldric did not respond. He still could not speak, but he could see in the other man’s eyes that he was telling the truth now. After Erik untied him, he stood unsteadily to his feet. Exhaustion still burdened his body as if he were carrying an ox while wading through a deep river. The muscles in his legs ached with a burning soreness as he stood on them for moments before collapsing back onto the bed, nearly falling to the floor.
“Help him, Erik,” Nima said, “Let’s get him to one of the chairs in the main room.”
Aldric felt the large man lift one of his arms, throwing it over his shoulder to help him stand. Aldric pushed himself back up shakily as Erik shuffled with him out the door and into a large, open room. A hearth took up the center of one side of the room, and the other side had a simple wooden table with four chairs set around it. Erik led Aldric to one of the chairs before helping him sit in it. The hearth had a small fire burning, a cauldron hanging over the flame with a stew bubbling inside. A small boy ran in through the main door, seemingly ready to shout something, before he stopped and stared at the strange man sitting in his dinner chair.
“Is this the man from the woods?” Lucan asked his father.
“Yes,” Erik responded, “Why are you not watching your sister?”
“She’s boring,” The small boy whined, “And she smells.”
“I’ll handle it,” Nima cut her husband off as he opened his mouth, “Come with me, Lucan.”
Erik watched them go before sitting down at the chair across from Aldric and staring at him.
“You can’t speak?” He asked after a moment.
Aldric shook his head.
“Have you never been able to?”
Aldric shook his head again.
“Does it involve all the scars you have?”
Aldric furrowed his brow at the question before pulling the neck of the tunic away to look down at his chest, noticing the scars that marred his chest and arms when he pulled up his sleeves.
“What about the sword you carried?” Erik asked.
Aldric’s hand instinctively snapped to his waist, but neither his belt nor his sword was there.
“I have it placed in a safe place, do not worry, but I cannot trust a seeming madman who wandered out of the woods with a blade when my family, my children are here.”
Aldric nodded his understanding before forcibly easing his body back into the chair. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the large scruff that now occupied his chin, and then running his hands through his much longer hair. He took a handful of his hair into his hand, raising it towards Erik, before making a cutting motion with his other hand.
“I imagined you would want to, yes. Nima will help you later,” Erik said as he stood up, “But the cold season is coming and I need to continue to make preparations. My wife has decided you can stay with us until you are well enough to leave. I understand that you will need time to recuperate, but I would not say no to any help you can offer when you are well.”
Erik retrieved the woodcutting axe and made his way out the door. Aldric stayed in the chair for a time, listening to the sounds of the empty house and the muffled sounds of family outside. His body ached in unimaginable ways, and his eyelids drooped with exhaustion. He tried several times to choke out simple words but found his voice still failed him. Eventually, he pushed himself out of the chair to hobble back to the bed they had placed him in before collapsing into it and drifting into a fitful slumber filled with nightmares of dark monsters and death.
----------------------------------------
Aldric trudged through the heavy snow, hauling the bundle of firewood on his back from the cover in the woods to the main house. Snow fell around him, sticking in his hair and beard. Nima had helped him cut his hair to its regular shoulder length, but he had decided to keep his beard for the cold that was now upon them. Lucan walked beside him, barely able to see over the collar of his father’s old, thick coat much too large for him as he carried the pile of sticks he had managed to scrounge from the blanket of white that covered the barren forest floor. Erik had been sick for many days and could not leave his bed at this point, Nima hardly ever leaving his side. They reached the house, kicking the snow off their boots as best they could before returning inside.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“Momma, look at all the little ones I found!” Lucan cried out, still touting his bundle.
Nima gave her son a weary smile and congratulated him before helping him stack the sticks with the others. Aldric dropped the split logs next to them before going over to Erik. The man had every spare blanket piled on him, a cold sweat beading his forehead. His breaths were short and ragged as Nima used a cloth to wipe his forehead.
“He’s not getting any better, but he is not getting any worse either,” She said, looking up at Aldric.
Aldric nodded before motioning to the woodpile.
“That should be enough for today,” She responded, “Do we still have enough?”
Aldric nodded again before dropping a few pieces into the hearth. Sparks flew into the air, mirroring the snow falling outside in reverse as the embers roiled from the motion. Warmth filled the room as Avis toddled over to Aldric to hug his leg.
“Fank you, hairy man,” She managed to say.
Aldric smiled down at her and rustled her short brown hair. She groaned angrily before trying to press it back down as Nima let out a small laugh.
----------------------------------------
Erik carried one of the large deer over his shoulders as Aldic dragged the other behind him. They dropped them by the edge of the river and began to clean and prepare the carcasses for the meat to be butchered off as the blood drained into the river to flow down as a stream of red and pink in the clear water.
“Just mind that tendon,” Erik pointed with his knife, “It will give you trouble if you don’t cut it at the top and bottom.”
“Thank you,” Aldric managed to wheeze out.
“Throat still hasn't healed, huh? I would have thought the cold season would have been more than enough time.”
Aldric shook his head before depositing a large chunk of venison into the basket.
“The basket is full,” Erik said after dropping in another piece, “We can string these up to drain and come back for more tomorrow.”
A low growl suddenly came from the treeline across the small river. Two large, gray wolves flanked out from each side of a large tree, eyes fixed on Erik and Aldric and the large amount of meat between them. Erik watched them, slowly moving into a ready position, knife still in hand. Their snarls pulled back the lips on their snouts, revealing their large, canine fangs as they crept forward, low and ready to pounce. Aldric felt his grip on his knife tighten, prepared for a fight, as he felt an instant stab of pain in his head before images began to flash before his eyes. A blood-red hellscape, black lightning flashing, as dark shapes attacked him. Claws tore into his flesh, and teeth snapped at him. Aldric screamed his fury and slashed at them, driving his blade into them, and when that was lost, using his bare hands to pummel and tear at them. Then he was back in the woods, standing in the middle of a slow-moving, clear river. He turned to see Erik standing on the edge, staring at him with a look of fear and worry. He raised his hands to see them covered in blood, two mutilated and cut wolf bodies lying at his feet in the water, their crimson blood mixing with the deers’ in the water. One’s skull was smashed open, and its stomach was torn open. The other had slash marks down its torso, the skinning knife implanted in one of its eyes.
“Aldric,” Erik said, his voice low and forced calm, “What happened?”
“Bad dream,” Aldric hoarsely said, “Of bad place.”
“Come, my friend,” Erik motioned, “Wash your hands and let us go back to the house.”
----------------------------------------
Rain gently pattered the roof's wood as Aldric stood, eyes closed and face raised, feeling the cool water on his skin. Lucan stood near the door, watching him.
“Mister,” He called to Aldric.
“Yes, Lucan?” Aldric called back without looking at the boy.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking in the weather.”
“Can I do it?”
“Ask your mother.”
Aldric heard the sound of the door opening, and a few moments later, it opened again. He heard Lucan's excited breaths as he ran and stood beside him.
“Lucan.”
“Yes, mister?”
“I am a prince.”
Lucan did not respond for a pause.
“What kind of prince?” He asked.
“The kind that needs to go home. Go find your father for me. I need to speak with him.”
----------------------------------------
Erik and Nima sat at the table across from Aldric. Lucan and Avis were outside, sent out by their parents, when Aldric asked to speak to them. The couple both had slightly worried looks on their faces, and Aldric took a breath and began.
“I have neither asked many questions in my time being here nor have I told you anything about myself. Both of these things were out of fear, fear of your reaction to knowing who I am and fear of the answer I might receive. The time has come, though, as my strength returns and I have found my voice again. I am Aldric of Eldoria, the crown prince and heir of the Kingdom of Eldoria, first son of Athuen, king of Eldoria.”
Erik and Nima shared a look with each other before Erik spoke.
“That is… surprising to say the least,” He started slowly, “When was the last time you were in your homeland, my lord?”
“I do not know,” Aldric said, “And do not refer to me with honorifics. I am a guest in your home and a friend.”
“This is all a shock,” Nima apologized, placing a hand on her husband’s.
“Do you know where you are?” Erik asked.
“I do not know that either.”
“You are on the western reaches of Benalec. We are officially in a nonaggression pact with Tetonia. Your presence here could be considered an act of war.”
“An act of war? Against who?”
“Tetonia. Eldoria and Tetonia have been at war for nearly eight years.”
Aldric felt lightheaded and was suddenly very glad he was sitting down.
“No, we… We were sending diplomatic missions to them. War was not declared. How…?” Aldric stammered.
“You’re dead,” Nima said quietly.
Aldric stopped and stared, his mouth still hanging open.
“The death of the princes of Eldoria by the hand of Tetonia started the war. Tetonia claimed they had no knowledge of the death of either prince, but both went to Tetonia and were never seen again. King Athuen could not allow such a perceived attack to stand unanswered. That was eight years ago.”
“They think that I am dead,” Aldric mumbled, more to himself than the others.
“You can understand where this puts us,” Erik insisted.
Aldric nodded before slumping even farther into his chair.
“I had planned to leave already, but now, I must go immediately. I truly do appreciate the hospitality you have shown me these months and I will ensure you are properly compensated upon my return to Eldoria. I must begin preparations,” Aldric said before turning his head to face Erik, “Where is Magebane?”
“Your sword?” Erik asked, “Follow me.”
They stood, and Erik led Aldric out to the woods, where he knocked on a handful of tree trunks before getting a hollow sound. He grunted and pulled away a fake trunk to reveal a hollowed-out section in the tree's trunk. Inside, Magbane sat in its sheath, its golden guard glittering in the sunlight, offset by the dull leather of the grip. Aldric pulled the blade free, holding it up to inspect the blade.
“It's time for me to go home.”
----------------------------------------
Aldric stood at the bow of the large galley he had boarded. With the small coin Erik and Nima could spare, he had managed to buy his way onto a cargo ship heading for Eldoria. While Benalac had a nonaggression pact with Tetonia and Eldoria, this did not stop them from trading with the two countries, especially since wartime usually saw trade requests increase from any country involved. He wore simple commoner clothes, a bland tunic and trousers under a short coat, and sturdy boots. Erik had given them to him as a parting gift and while the large man’s clothes were slightly too large for him, Aldric was thankful for the gift all the same. Magebane hung, sheathed, from his belt, intricate and expensive handguard covered by his coat, but still ready to be pulled free if needed.
They had been sailing for the better part of a week and were expecting to see the coast any day. The captain was a boisterous but joyful man, constantly making jokes or remarks to his crew to keep the spirits of his men up. While it had been a long few years, and more were likely to come, they all had much heavier coin purses now. The crew was a mix of interesting individuals, most seafarers for all their lives, and two were even a set of twin sea elf brothers.
“Land!”
The cry came from the barrelman in the crow’s nest. Shouts began to sound out around the ship as the crew made ready for port. The captain shouted his order with his large, booming voice over the sounds of the sea. Aldric turned back towards the bow to see the edge of the coastline coming into view and smiled. It was only a short trip into the inlet that was the harbor of Havery before he would see his city again.
----------------------------------------
Aldric weaved his way through the streets of his home city. The roads were less crowded than they had been in the time of peace, but Aldric knew that nearly half of the men would be conscripted away to fight. However, there was still a required amount of manpower to keep the city running, which meant that, for the most part, the city was still occupied. The city guard and knights of the city were also kept here in the event of a riot or siege. However, Aldric was used to lively streets and people moving through them constantly, some rushing from home to jobs, transporting goods, or heading to one of the markets. This more desolate version of the city was an alien and offputting version entirely foreign to him. It took him nearly half the day to make his way through the massive city, even occasionally getting lost, before he arrived at the large portcullis gates of the castle wall. Two castle guards stood to the sides of the massive stone arch, spears in hand, as they approached Aldric as he made his way towards the opening.
“Halt, friend,” the one on the right called out.
Aldric slowed, holding his hands out in a friendly gesture as he stopped to meet them.
“What reason do you have for visiting the castle?” The guard on the left, visibly much older than the other, asked.
“To see my mother and father, of course,” Aldric replied, plastering a large smile on his face and doing his best to set an unthreatening demeanor about himself.
“And who is your mother and father?” The younger guard asked.
“His Royal Highness, King Athuen and Her Majesty, Queen Delilah,” Aldric replied.
Both guards reacted immediately. The younger guard stepped back to lower his spear towards Aldric, anger, and disgust evident on his face as the older guard raised an arm across his path.
“You dare disgrace the memory of the fallen princes with your palter?!” The young guard shouted.
“Hold steady, Kelton,” The older guard rebuked, “Let us hear his reason for such a claim.”
Aldric opened his mouth to speak, but the young guard charged forward, spear ready to sink into his abdomen. In one fluid motion, Magebane screamed free of its scabbard as if Aldric had willed it into his hand as he pulled the blade free, effortlessly hooking the shaft of the guard’s spear with the guard of the sword. He twisted up, bending the man’s wrist at an awkward angle as he attempted to hold onto his weapon, but Aldric pushed down with his sword and pulled the head of the spear past him under his arm. He hooked his leg through the guard’s, shifting his stance to put him off balance before slamming the pommel of Magebane into the back of his neck, just under the skull. The man dropped his spear, clutching at his head and the sudden ringing pain that dazed him as he fell to his knees. Aldric raised his sword in a ready position towards the second guard, but the older man did not attack as he stared at the sword in Aldric’s hands.
“That is the sword of Prince Aldric,” The guard said, slight awe in his voice.
“It is my sword by birthright,” Aldric declared, “Given to me on my twentieth year in honor of my crowning by the hands of my father, His Royal Highness, as were the wishes of my great grandfather.”
Kelton had pushed himself to his feet by this point and was reaching for his spear as the older guard slammed his foot down on the shaft, holding it to the stone pavers.
“I will take you before Her Majesty. She may judge the truth of your words before her court,” The guard said before turning to the other man, “Stay here. I will send someone to replace me.”
The guard motioned for Aldric to follow him before turning and making his way into the central courtyard of the many keeps that made up the Eldorian royal castle, leading him towards the largest of them, Aldric’s home for all his life, the royal keep of his family for generations upon generations. They made their way up flights of stairs and crossed extravagant hallways, passed through grand atriums filled with tapestries and servants moving quickly, carrying various trays, some empty and some full of food or drinks. While passing through one of the open interior courtyards, Aldric noticed a young boy watching him momentarily before jumping off the ledge he was perched on and running down the hallway.
Eventually, they reached the large wooden doors of the throne room. Aldric’s mind wandered back to the last time he had gone through these doors, slamming them open to storm into his father’s council meeting and argue with him. That had apparently been over eight years ago for the rest of the world, but for Aldric, it felt as though it was barely months ago. Two knights in the shining plate and red and gold trimmed cloaks of the King’s Men stood to each side of the door, as they always did when the court was in session. Merrick, the older castle guard Aldric had learned the name of while walking here, explained to the knights why he had brought Aldric. Both turned to the other, seemingly in confusion on how to proceed. They wore great helms which hid their faces from the world, a part of their oath to become the nameless watchers of the king. Eventually, one nodded to Merrick and pushed open the door. He motioned for them to enter as Merrick placed his spear against the wall.
Inside, the throne room was as grand as it had ever been. Great banners of red and gold displaying the crest of Eldoria hung from the arches, lining down the open walkway that led to the throne. Two crowds of people stood to each side of the room, dukes and duchesses, lords, and ladies, and all their attendants. Near the front stood a group of men and a woman who were the Council of the King, given the honored position of being nearest to the throne, as a man knelt at the end of the long, elegant carpet that came to an end at the bottom of the short stair of the platform that held the throne. It was a large and immaculate throne made of gold, silver, and other precious metals inlaid with gems and fineries. The king’s sword, Severance, leaned against the side of one of the lavish arms.
Sitting on the throne, however, was not King Athuen but his mother, Queen Delilah, dressed in an extravagant green dress, her silver crown contrasting against her midnight black hair as it rested on her head. Standing directly to the throne's right was a slender woman with fiery auburn hair that stood out against her pale skin, piercing blue eyes, and simple, long black dress. Liana’s eyes snapped to Aldric the moment he stepped through the doorway, her face not betraying a reaction as she stood with hands clasped and impassive. His mother did not notice him as she spoke with the kneeling man.
“Wait here,” Merrick whispered before passing through the crowd.
Aldric watched him weave through the crowd of people to get the attention of a man wearing a modified, more stately-looking version of the castle guard’s uniform, who Aldric assumed must be the captain, whom Aldric did not recognize as he turned to look at him after exchanging words with Merrick. Aldric had been very familiar with the captain of the castle guard, a seasoned warrior named Oliver, before his disappearance and wondered what had happened to the old man. Perhaps he had finally retired to his family as he had always talked about. The new captain turned back to Merrick, clearly giving him an order, before speaking to the other council members as Merrick made his way back to Aldric.
“Captain Morrow will notify the Crown’s Advisor of your-” Merrick began before he stopped as a sudden quietness fell over the room.
Aldric turned to see Liana leaning up from his mother’s ear as she looked towards him again. This time, the queen’s gaze followed Liana’s to look directly at Aldric, who stood in dirty, sea-stained common clothes in the back of the hall. The crowd turned to face him, hoping to see who or what would be so rude as to cause such an interruption in the royal court. Whispers began to break out among the crowd as rumor and speculation began to fly about the seeming vagabond who had made his way into the castle.
“Approach.”
The whispering died immediately as silence filled the hall except for the sound of muffled footsteps on the carpet as Aldric made his way down the center of the room towards the throne. His mother’s voice sounded worried and strained as she issued the command, her eyes fixed on him as he came forward. Liana’s face remained impassive as she stared at him with his ice-blue eyes. Aldric reached the bottom of the stairs, where he removed his sword from its sheath, lying it on the floor in front of where he knelt before his mother. His heart pounded inside his chest, threatening to leap into his throat and choke him as he hung his head, his salt-dried hair falling down around his face, which felt as though it was burning off of him.
“Raise your head,” His mother commanded, her voice thick with heavy emotion.
Aldric raised his face to her, his eyes burning as tears began to form. He looked into his mother’s eyes and saw the sorrow and hope mixed in her stare as she looked down at him before a smile broke her lips.
“My son is home.”