By Phoenix
As he slept against the hard brambles, he dreamed of several random recollections: the night his father left and the time he came face to face with a wolf.
The night his father had left had been a stormy one. He was seven at the time, listening to the shouting match that his mother and father had participated in. He barely understood what was going on at the time. When his father left, slamming the front door behind him, he still didn’t comprehend what he was eavesdropping on. As he hid behind his bedroom door, he wondered if his father had gone on an adventure, and if he would let David come with him. Oh…foolish naivety. He didn’t know what had happened, and how that would affect him and his mother.
His mother had bravely explained to him that night that his father was going to explore and go on a journey far, far away. David then had insensitively piped up,
“Can I go with him?” the moment the question was spoken, his mother’s brave façade had come crashing down. He had known then he would never see his father again. He had comforted himself with the wishful thinking of his father’s return. His father wouldn’t forget him. The wooden fish pendant David had made for his father was gone from its usual place on the bed stand. This had surely meant his father had taken it with him and still loved him, right? Surely.
At the time he encountered his first wolf, he had just turned seven. His father had taken him to the Central Peace Havens, where his unfortunate uncle had had his house, possessions and all, mysteriously blown away by an abnormally large gust of wind.
The uncle was now slowly building up his fortune again after resettling in Aarchen, but still hadn’t enough money for food. It seemed like bad luck always befell people who tried to settle in the Central Peace Havens. Because of that fact, it was called Witch’s Canyon. While David’s father was fishing at a stream in Witch’s Canyon, David was playing at Grandeur Chasm, which was close by the stream.
The chasm was shockingly bright and stunning. He was astonished at the myriad of colors and was examining each small rock, each twisted crevice. It was a golden brown and red, a pavilion of shining, fiery colors, and as David was examining the phenomenon, he had heard a kind of curious wailing coming from the chasm. He looked down and spotted a young white wolf. It was standing on a small ledge that separated it from the abyss below. It wailed and howled. To David, for some reason, it sounded like a plea for help. He had gotten his father’s spare fishing basket, looped it with some fishing string, and lowered it down to the wolf. For some reason, he couldn’t leave. The wolf didn’t want to climb in at first, but the ledge started to crumble. It jumped into the basket just in time. With much difficulty, David had hauled the heavy wolf up.
It got out of the basket and growled at David. Or at least he thought it was growling at him, until he saw a dark black shadow behind him. The wolf had gnashed its teeth together, dashing at the bush behind David. The shadow then had disappeared. At that moment, the wolf seemed to have nodded its head to David. He was shocked, not only by its obvious intelligence, but because of its frighteningly beautiful ice blue, starry eyes; noble, yet wild. David had seen packs of wolves howling outside his home, but their eyes were amber and weren’t so brilliant like flames. This wolf’s eyes looked nothing like a wolf’s at all.
With that memory of the blue eyes boring into his, he woke. He then remembered with a rush of all that had happened that night. The radiant sun peeping from the horizon seemed to shine out happiness, joy, and glee onto the harsh landscape. The very sun itself seemed to mock his pain. His eyes were red and puffy from the night before. He didn’t even know he had fallen asleep. He didn’t know how he could have with so many people dying. He took one last look at his old home, and remembered what his mother told him: find his father.
He took a deep breath and started to walk away from the ruin, but took a final look. The inn’s red paint had been scraped off and the wood beneath was now black. The mound of carcasses was in front of the horrible scene- the work of the Illia. They were all dead. And none had been spared. But why? David thought. How could so brave a man have fallen to the enemy? He knew in his heart that even if one were brave and skilled, death would claim him eventually.
He started to trudge along at a glacial speed along a road, his heart heavy. He had no plan. He felt empty. He felt like there was nothing good in the world. How could he feel anything when so many people lay dead there on the road? Why was he allowed to live? Why couldn’t they have killed him and save him the task of finding his father? Was Chris, his dear best friend, dead? Everything was gone! Nothing was there anymore. Those ashes felt like his old life. There was nothing left. There was no home to which he could return. He had to find his father in order to find his mother. Couldn’t it have been different?!
An eagle broke through the horizon line, breaking the monotony of the bleak, empty sky. A long, drawn out screech tore through his eardrums, and reminded him of a pang of all he had lost. Chris used to constantly ramble on and on, daydreaming of the day he'd be free, like any eagle. A boyish voice seemed to echo in his mind:
"Can't wait to get out of this village and go see the capital! I hear the wares of the entire Yura come through Oppol! Those merchants passing by told me of the magical silk of the Wolf Clan elves, the shimmering jewels of the Menelay's mines, the fruits and sparkling rivers of far off lands! When I am old enough, I'm going to bid farewell to this place! I'll be free!"
He kept trudging along the road. Jagged stones tore at his feet. The Aarchen kingdom’s plains were so barren that if it weren’t for the snow, there’d be no water for miles. Sand was everywhere underneath the layer of winter frost and ice. Death was too. With no notice whatsoever, the boy fell down on the sand and writhed in agony, like a fish taken from water. His face burned with tears.
"Chris! Chris!" he yelled. Screams were torn from his throat as he yelled the names of all those who had left him behind. "Why?! Why did you do this, gods?!" He hunched up in a ball in the sand and snow, babbling and sobbing, whispering apologies none of the dead would ever hear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While he had stared at the faces of the dead, he had vowed he wouldn’t ever kill. Oh. The killings. He could have done something, he should have! By why didn’t he? The ground felt hard at his knees as he did what he could to honor the dead. He felt as though he should say something as he knelt there. But no words came out. With shaking knees and trembling lips, the boy got up and left.
He remembered the paralyzing fear that gripped his stomach. He was a coward. But he could at least stop this.
Then he had to start walking again.
For hours, guilt gnawed at the teenager’s insides like a living creature. It consumed him with grief. What if his mother didn’t make it out alive? What was the last thing he had said to her? It wasn’t even a promise that he’d love her forever. It was only a command for her to keep on her blanket.
David continued to trudge along the path that seemed too long, in the weather that was too cold, in the weather that seemed too fair- all mocking his loss.
But what was the point to get angry? He should be planning.
He supposed he could go the Oppol, the capital, but he knew his father wouldn’t be there, and no guard of the palace would let him in for food. They were no charity case. In their feudal society, peasants were of the least importance. He continued to walk towards the Haleth Forest. It was eight miles away. It would take a quarter of the day, but there was food there. Edible fruits were abundant. He could make a slingshot and hunt game. Hunting was different from killing, he reasoned.
And after the Haleth Forest, he could find work as a player. The players with their music and performing traveled far and wide. He could always ask after a Mr. Villehein. But if no one liked his flute playing, then he would be forced to steal. Before the inn was made, he had stolen food for him and his mother. It had been years since he had picked a pocket, but after a little practice, he would be alright. Then, he could find a wagon to ride in and travel. Dunlen was the next Aarchen village after all. It was a popular trading place for goods and gossip.
It was then that he heard a whinny.
The Officer’s Alphian horse lay in the middle of the road, a deep gash in his side. David rushed to it. Just because so many died the previous night, didn't mean that the horse would too. At least this was something he could do to help. At least he was good...for something. He found that inside the horse’s saddle was a bag of herbs. David tended the wound, taking some of the herbs to form a poultice to relieve the horse of the pain, and to stop infection. Chris’s mother was good with medicine and had taught him how to fight infection when he had cuts on his legs from climbing trees. Chris probably didn’t even make it out of the massacre. Tears welled up in his tears. There was nothing to go back to now.
“So…what exactly happened back there?” the horse whinnied. David wished he could have said he was surprised, but he was far more shocked. Not only was the horse surprisingly recovered already to start speaking, but the voice sounded so human.
“Well…um…I-” David began. The voice had caused him to freeze, including his vocal cords. He decided to tell the story from the top. After he was able to get over the fact that horses could sound so human, he began his story. Afterwards, there was a long silence.
After a time the horse spoke. “My master has always been good to me. He mixed goodies into my oats, along with some potions to grow wings and always took care of me. I hope he’s alright. After something hit me, I kind of lost consciousness….”
“I’m sorry.” David couldn’t go on. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I’m sorry for everything! It was stoppable, but then- Almost everyone’s dead!” he fell onto his knees and sobbed, and started babbling, the previous night's trauma was all too clear. “And I couldn’t do anything! I don’t know if how many escaped!” The endless, senseless rambling that morning took over him again as the burned, charred faces of the dead grinned back at him.
“It’s not your fault. How old are you?” David saw the horse’s tears flow down his long nose.
“Thirteen.”
“That’s the year pages finish their training. Even they still can’t defeat one of the Illia. Bravery will come to you.” His animal eyes were sad.
“No it won’t. It never will.”
“What is your name?”
“It’s David,”
“I’m Starlight,” the horse bowed his head to eat some grass.
“They all died while I hid.” To David’s surprise, Starlight trotted over to him.
“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything. I wager you’ve been allowed to live- by will of the gods. And my officer…probably was not. We need to get over things. But there is hope!”
“The gods?!”
“Yes. It means that you have a purpose in life.”
“What?”
“How should I know? I’m not a celestial being!” Starlight snapped. "But you cannot give up. Do you see me giving up?! In the midst of the battle, my master told me to run a message to Aarchen, saying how the Illia were back. He-he never bothered to mention he wouldn’t live out the night. But perhaps he’s alive. There’s still hope.” There was a determination in that horse's eyes that proved the stallion refused to acknowledge the death of his master.
David saw through his tears and perceived the sunlight. What would mother have said to him? To be strong. To hope. But there was none. What was the point? What would she have done? He thought. He knew. He had to stand up and be strong. After he had completed his quest, the officer wouldn’t have died in vain. “I need to find him.” A steel resolve hardened in his stomach.
“Hmm?” Starlight asked.
“Did you know Officer Harold?” At this, Starlight looked even more sad.
“Officer Harold? Of course! He was the life of every victory party we ever had. I can’t believe he wanted to usurp the throne…I always thought he was rather decent and all, never kicking his horse, you know…” Starlight’s sentence wandered off.
“Oh,” David said slowly, “I was just wondering…”
“You would never believe the training we warhorses have to go through,” Starlight changed topic. David could tell that the stallion had no wish to think of his officer. David could see that he was trying to be brave.
“What kind of training did you learn?”
“Oh,” Starlight shook his tail, and took solace in the temporary release of pain of talking to a stranger of trivial matters. “We learned to thrash out at our opponents, how to carry your master off the battle field. Our whole regime of Alphian horses were then given and distributed to all the important officials.” Here Starlight smiled sadly. “I was given to the most important official. I had dreams of being the best.”
“Sounds interesting,” David said, being polite. Really, it wasn’t interesting at all to someone who was only concerned with nature.
“Yes, when we were colts, we were starting to learn the basics. All of us had to have that wing-making potion every morning so we could grow wings.
“I was so excited at my first battle. My master fought bravely, and I assisted him in any way I could. And-"
Here the horse broke off his own sentence, and David hesitantly extended his arm towards the horse and draped his arm around the horse’s neck. They sat quietly, both drawing on each other’s strength.
"At that time," the horse’s voice quivered as he tried to regain his focus and control. "Harold was the Kan’s top officer. He could fight like a madman. I have to admit,” Starlight paused. “when he fought, I was pretty frightened. He had this kind of look in his eye…but…maybe it was a trick of the light.” But Starlight didn’t seem convinced of his own words.
“Do you think you’ll be able to walk?” David asked, eyeing the deep gash on the stallion’s side.
“I’ll be fine.” They started limping along. After a while, Starlight asked, “Where are you going to go?”
“I have to look for my father. He’s….well….well…” David said. He knew there would eventually be the time for truth. He wondered if his mother ever escaped the Lenain.
“Hmm…” Starlight mumbled. He didn’t seem to know what to say either. What was there to say when both had lost loved ones?
“Do you see that?” Starlight asked faintly.
“See what?” David replied. Suddenly, Starlight’s black eyes yielded the image of the officer’s face to David’s, and David could perceive the face getting farther and farther away, shrinking as it got smaller and smaller.
The eyes soon filled with exuberance and strength, as well as a twinkle of the horse’s smile.
David had seen this before in his mother’s eyes. He shook his head sadly. This was no way to deal with the pain. The horse had locked away his pain deep within himself, and refused to let out all emotion now. In fact, the horse seemed to come to life after this. David silently disapproved.
“It’s time to rest! I’m bone tired, and I think that this noble warhorse deserves plenty better than to keep trekking on mile after mile!”
David smiled. It was no easy task to lose loved ones, and soon, the horse would not be able to keep the pain at bay much longer. “Well, my dear “noble steed,” where do you suppose we rest?” David asked, humoring him.
“Well, my jolly, good fellow,” Starlight replied, his voice an exact imitation of Robert, “right here.” He gestured to the clearing they were standing in.
“Right here?”
“Well, there’s a cottage, but I don’t think it’s safe.”
“Where?” asked a completely stunned David.
“Over there, of course,” said Starlight, exasperated.
“I don’t see it.”
“Really? Is this some sort of fatigue resulting from an empty stomach?” Starlight asked.
“No, I think you’re just tired.”
“I think there’s a cottage over there.”
“That’s not possible. There hasn’t been a single structure in miles! Why would anyone want to build their home in the
middle of nowhere? I think that’s just plain silly. Who in their right mind would do that?”
“A loony. Obviously,” said Starlight. David started following the eager Starlight who was heading toward an empty clearing.
“Where is it? Is it close by?” David asked, peering from behind some branches.
“Come on,” Starlight beckoned. The horse went up to what looked like empty space, and knocked. At Starlight’s touch, bursts of color rushed from the place Starlight had knocked, and a whole little cottage appeared, with a cute thatched
roof, and a quaint little garden. The door’s sides were ablaze with colorful rays of lights; pink, orange, gold, and white. There was a sign next to the door that said: Welcome.
David rushed forward.
“There’s bound to be food in this house.” He said, unable to contain his excitement.
“But we can’t just help ourselves to people’s food!” That’s-” Starlight protested.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” David asked.
“Yes, but-”
“Then come on! This house’s owner is obviously friendly.”
On the sign by the door, the myriad of shining colors shone brightly, that for a moment, David couldn’t see the words on the little wooden sign. When the lights subsided, David saw the words now etched in the wood: Help yourself to anything you want.
“Do you hear that?” Starlight asked.
“Hear what?” David replied. He was greatly puzzled. Horse ears were able to pick up sounds better than humans’. Then, as if the devil were stroking his spine, he felt his heart stop. He slowly turned around as he heard the soft padding of paws on the dry ground. He hardly dared breathe. He steeled himself, and turned around.
Nightshade Chronicles by Phoenix is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
