Chapter 1 - Title unknown currently

This would be my first attempt at any long piece of writing, so bare with me. I've not actually finished this first paragraph. In all honesty, the feedback I receive (if any) will determine whether I carry on writing this. Read as much or as little as you like, and I hope it's not to poor (P.s I've lost the format during submission, so my paragraphing is likely to be off etc so i apologise)

It covered the walls. It covered the floor.  The blood covered Caleb as his boyish, blood-covered arms cradled his sister’s minute body as he lay besides the hearth of their wooden cabin which had always seemed so large to Caleb until now, where it seemed to suffocate him in a stifling embrace. He glanced over at his mother’s lifeless corpse, the blood still trickling slowly from the gash in her neck; resembling a demonic smile, taunting his nightmarish situation. He’d tried so hard to add pressure to the wound like his father had taught him all those years before, prior to him leaving  the family all alone, but to no avail. Caleb had managed to calm his sister down eventually, who suddenly twitched during her undisturbed dreams; existing in a world that was blissfully unaware of the helpless future that now lay ahead of them. He couldn’t bring up his sister, provide for her, hell he couldn’t even provide for himself; and how could he be expected to? He was only a child of 10 summers himself, but he refused to abandon her! A life of thievery and corruption flashed before Caleb’s eyes, his imagination creating images of himself being clapped in irons, his baby sister crying helplessly before the noose creeps over his neck and the floor is released with a snap.

 As the candles ate the last of the wax and the room was plunged into shadows, hopelessness plagued Caleb’s mind, leaving him staring, dazed, into the darkness of the cold winter night, praying he could fall into the euphoric world of madness; yet still frequently checking Lily’s breathing, worried that she, too, would leave him completely alone and afraid. The sound of hoofs striking frozen ground dragged Caleb back to reality, his terror causing him to stumble towards a dark corner of the room in a feeble attempt to conceal himself and Lily as fresh images of demonic invaders with blood dripping blades emerged from the depths of his imagination. Raised voices caused Caleb to shuffle deeper into the shadows, as the heated conversation drew closer and faces emerged from the dark.

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Rufus Kirkwood, a Decanus of the 10^th, of the Elarian Legion, dismounted with practiced ease; his muscular build landing lightly on the solid ground, almost unnaturally so for someone of his stature. At the age of 28 summers, commanding the tent party of 8 men gathered around him wasn’t the greatest achievement, but he was not about to pass up an opportunity to prove himself as a leader. After all he was still young enough fight for the promotion to optio, if not higher.

 ‘Swords at the ready boys, the threat may not be over; but it will be when we’re finished here’, warned Kirkwood confidently, trying to mask the apprehension in his voice for his men’s sake. ‘Grayson, scout ahead’. Legionnaire Grayson obeyed without question, moving quickly towards the unhinged door with his sword drawn. ‘Roderick and Channing, check the back but stay in earshot. Jarvis, Kerwin, guard the horses. Rest of you with me’.       

‘You’re gonna’ wanna’ take a look sir, this is going to require a lot of paperwork’, muttered Grayson, holding down the rising bile that came unbidden to his throat.Heart sinking, Kirkwood approached the door, reeling back as a sudden wave of dried blood and putrid flesh struck his nostrils like a blow to the face; causing him to flinch. Inside the doorway was an image from hell itself, with furniture strewn around the room as if a summer storm had struck. The outline of a body lay close to an upturned table towards back of the 1 roomed hut, with pots and pans scattered in close proximity. The stone fire place, on the left wall of the hut, that would have once cooked a meal for the owners, had now caved in on itself; leaving ash and debris in its wake. One of the men threw up behind him, probably Aiken, thought Kirkwood, he always was a soft one.

Numbly, the dark haired Decanus stepped towards the body. ‘Woman, middle-aged. Bruises to the right arm and chin. Skin and blood underneath the nails of both hands. Throat cleanly cut. This one gave up a fight, she did, and the assailants were definitely not amateurs.’ Reported Kirkwood to his men, feeling the anger emanate from the bodies of the 3 men he commanded in the room.

‘Who could do such a thing?’ spat the baby faced Lowell, one of Kirkwoods youngest and untested legionnaires, as he flipped back one of the 3 straw mattresses that had been overturned.

‘Ahh the innocence of youth. One day, Lowell, you’ll lose your faith in humanity and realise  that there’s some sick, sadistic bastards in this world’ chuckled Luther, the oldest of the tent party and Kirkwood’s unofficial second in command who came in at 32 summers, but spoke like a man 10 years his senior. Luther was tried and tested, and had seen a lot in his service to the Elarian people; and would have been promoted too if he wasn’t so narrow-minded considered Kirkwood. ‘And I can see why she was so feisty’ continued Luther, nodding in the direction of the darkest corner of the room, next to a small set of grubby drawers. Kirkwood followed his gaze, but with the moon shining through a window on the back wall, the darkness remained impenetrable.

A small whimper escaped the shadows, quiet enough to be passed as a whistle of the wind if it wasn’t for the deathly silence that enveloped the room. As his eyes adjusted, Rufus Kirkwood began to identify the silhouette of a young child, holding a small bundle. His heart sank, ‘A child? Great, just what we need.’ Snapped Kirkwood.

‘Make that two sir’ Grayson added from over his shoulder,’ that small bundle you see in the kids arms, well that’s looks to be another one’, as he walked over to the huddled child. ‘Cmon lad, we won’t hurt you’. The boy shuffled deeper into the darkness.

‘Move over Grayson’, Luther snapped as he strode towards,’ get here you little runt’ and backhanded the traumatised child across the face; who’s back hit the floor, head banging against a tattered upturned set of draws which lay near the boys hiding place. The baby in the young child’s grasp let out a cry of distress, a sound that seemed impossible from such small lungs.

                ‘I think that’s enough from you soldier’, interrupted Kirkwood, pushing Luther towards the door, ‘I think you’re better suited with animals, go check on Jarvin and kerwin’.  Kirkwood picked up the baby from the unconscious orphans grasp, passing him gently to Aiken, who had only recently stopped regurgitating his evening meal. ‘You’re the closest thing we have to a women Aiken. This one’s your responsibility until I say otherwise, see I don’t regret my decision’, ordered Decanus Kirkwood, his tall stature towering over Aiken.

                ‘Y-y-yes sir’ Aiken muttered pitifully, rushing towards the door as he struggled to hold another surge of vomit down as a fresh wave of the putrid stench, that could only be described as death, hit his nostrils.

                ‘Since you were the last person that the young lad saw before that big black bastard palmed him across his face, Grayson, he’s your responsibility until my superiors tell me what to do with him’, stated Kirkwood. Grayson noted, lifting the undernourished boy onto his shoulder effortlessly. ‘Now let’s get the fuck out of here, the stinks giving me a headache.’

                Kirkwood took one last glance around at the blood covered room, turned his back and stepped into fresh air.

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                Pain throbbed through Caleb’s head, seeming like a beating drum in rhythm with his heartbeat.  He lay in a dream state, basking in the sun’s warmth as it shone down onto his exposed back. Opening his eyes a fraction, Caleb quickly winced as the sun seared his eye’s like hot coals; causing him to flinch. A mumble of pain escaped his parched lips, which cracked and split under the strain; drops of blood sprouting from the fractures. Gradually, Caleb became aware of the bouncing motion which rocked his body. In his confusion, the dark haired youth forced his eyes open and raise his stiff neck; resulting in stars that flashed before his eyes from the sharp movement of stiff joints.  The sight of the surrounding men, armed to the teeth, riding horses similar to the one he was attached to shattered his blissful ignorance and the memories of the nightmare, fear for his sister, and fear for the bleak future that lay before them both struck him like a tsunami wave; washing him back into the drowning depths of unconsciousness, where his pain and misery was nothing but a distant memory.

Reluctantly, Caleb returned to reality. There was no rocking motion of riding on horseback anymore, this time he lay on the hard, compact earth. Light flickered from a fire that burnt not so far away from where the young Elarian lay. Battling the strain of cramped muscles, misery and the throbbing head caused the angry black man had struck him, Caleb inched towards the flames; eager to lose himself in the warm recesses of the flames.

                ‘Have the nightmares started yet lad?’. The gruff voice dragged Caleb from the haunting memories that swirled around his mind like the smoke which bellowed from the crackling embers. Caleb sluggishly looked up, noticing the bulky figure silhouetted against the dark on the opposite side of the fire.

                ‘It’s alright boy, I’m one of the lads that found you in that hell hole you called a home’, muttered the man. Clearing his throat, he continued ‘I mean… sorry, life in the legion sapped my ability to sugar coat words. Names Rufus, Rufus Kirkwood’. Silence followed. ‘I assume your parents taught you manners boy’, Kirkwood snapped like a man bred for command, ‘who would you be?’.

                Slowly, Caleb’s eyes became accustomed to the contrast of light and began to notice some of the figures features. His jet black hair hung limply at shoulder length, with a strip of leather that held the fringe and sweat away from his eyes. The fire flashed shadows across the strangers face, illuminating shallow lines that were slowly becoming wrinkles on his young but aging face. Freckles lightly scattered his sun beaten face, almost covered with the thick bristle that lined his chiselled jaw.  The stamp of a man born into hard campaigns.

                Caleb opened his mouth with all intention to reply, but only a pathetic squeak escaped his parched throat. He’s only a kid Decanus, give him a break’ another man muttered, as he approached the fire; dumping the small deer that he carried over his shoulders, the arrow that downed it still sticking from its chest. ‘Here, wet your throat’ he directed towards Caleb, as he threw him a waterskin.

Until now, Caleb hadn’t considered the needs of his body. At the sight of the waterskin, his body screamed out for hydration, and he guzzled the water down thirstily; lapping some down his chest.  ‘The earth’s not going to run out of water kid’ chuckled the new member of the trio, ‘careful or you’ll be the one trekking to the nearest stream to fill it up’.  Embarrassed, Caleb handed the waterskin back to the original owner.

‘Tha-thank you’, Caleb mumbled meekly; down casting his eyes to stare back into the fire, nervously.

Seeing the shyness unfold Kirkwood said ,‘Enough chat Grayson, skin the bloody thing and get it on the fire, the boy will be hungry!’ . Grayson unsheathed his knife that hung from his belt, and began removing the skin in preparation to eat.

              ‘Screw the boy, i’m hungry!’, a voice echoed from the darkness. Seemingly from nowhere, a  dark-skinned giant encroached through the bushes to Caleb’s right, and shuffled him along. ‘elders first kid’. In the light, Caleb got a chance to see the speakers face and realised it was the man from the previous night, that had caused the large swelling around his eye. In a sudden flash of anger, Caleb screamed, lunging towards the black giant, releasing the pent up emotions of his dead mother by launching blow after blow into the older man’s face; his small, childish fists bouncing pathetically off the giant’s face, causing nothing but an eruption of spit to spray from his mouth as he burst with laughter. 

              ‘Well he’s a spirited little bastard, I’ll give him that’ chuckled the humoured giant, pushing Caleb like a leaf in a breeze. Stumbling backwards, Caleb tripped over a fallen log blocking his path; causing him to land rough on his backside. ‘Think I may have to teach you how to throw a real punch lad. Can’t leave a little girl like you in the mitts of those born and bred city rats.’

               Growling in unkempt anger, Caleb struggled to rise; colour rising quickly to his cheeks. Kirkwood kicked his arms from under him, causing him to land roughly back onto the frozen ground. ‘Enough Luther, or it won’t be just the little lad flat on his arse.’ Regardless of the sheer size of the huge black man they called Luther, there was a fear in the dark mans eyes. No, not fear Caleb realised; respect, or perhaps admiration for their Decanus. ‘ Now piss off and find us some more firewood, you sick son of a bitch’.

As if waking from a dream, Caleb’s heart lurched into his mouth. ‘Where’s my sister!?’ Caleb jumped up in an instant, all thoughts of hunger and pain removed from his mind. ‘Where is Lily!’.

‘Calm down lad,’ Grayson’s hand rested on as he muttered softly. ‘She’s safe’.

Shrugging off the callused hand, Caleb started towards Kirkwood. ‘Where’s my sister, what have you done with her!’.

              Kirkwood took a step towards him, looking deep into Caleb’s eyes; which burnt with hatred. ‘She’s in the safest place for her son, we took her to the Monastery ‘s orphanage. She’ll be safe there, away from hunger and pain. They’ll look after her’. His words we not phrased softly as most would, more assertively; instilling confidence into whomever heard. Anger, again, threatened to overwhelm his emotions. Struggling to think properly, Caleb spluttered ‘You bastard, she’s my sister. I kept her safe that night, and I can do it again’.

‘Not with those punches you threw before boy’ Luther retorted, causing Grayson and Kirkwood to glare venomously into the black man’s eyes. ‘And that aint another insult. Your sister is better off in that orphanage. You’ll struggle to look after yourself; let alone another little’un’.

           Decanus Kirkwood knelt down to Caleb’s height, and looked into his eyes. ‘As much as I hate to admit it lad, the big brute speaks sense ‘, causing a smug look to grow on Luther’s face. For an instant, Caleb spotted pain deep within the Decanus’ face; buried, hidden from the men he commanded. A deep howl, in the distance, shattered the moment shared; Kirkwood’s eyes returning to the cold eyes of a man born into a life of violence. In that instant, the remaining men of Kirkwood’s company emerged from various sides of the camp.

           ‘A pack of wolves have caught our scent sir’, a tall young man, no more then 20, spluttered in excitement. ‘I’ve tried leading them away, but they’re heading towards us’. Kirkwood glanced up, noticing the thirst in his eyes. ‘Good work Jarvis, you’ll grow into a decent tracker yet! Okay lads, let’s move out. Aiken, you stay at the camp with the lad. On second thoughts, you too Grayson; keep an ear open.’ Turning towards Caleb, ‘It’ll be difficult lad, but get some sleep. We’ve got a long few days ahead of us before we’re back to the Elarian barracks.’ With that, Kirkwood’s other 6 men fell in flawlessly behind him as he led them through the undergrowth and out into the unrelenting darkness.

           Aiken sat down by the fire, as Caleb wandered back to his make shift sleeping pallet. ‘Well.. that went well’ Aiken chuckled awkwardly, obviously shaken up by the prospect of an encounter with wolves; or anything hostile for that matter. Grayson raised an eyebrow, and glanced towards Caleb sarcastically, creating a smirk upon the young boys face for the first time since they’d met, before rolling over in his pallet. ‘You’re first watch Aiken, wake me when its time. Try get some sleep lad, it won’t come easy but you’re going to need it’.

Noticing the expression of sheer horror, on Aikens face, at the thought of being alone in the darkness, Caleb looked deep into the fire an instant longer before laying down and closing his eyes; not quite up to turning his back on the fire and his current company incase, like his mother, father and now sister, they left him alone and helpless.

          Blood. Sweat. Tears. Onwards Caleb ran. The forest streamed by, dark silhouettes of tree’s flashing past in the haunting darkness. Held tight in his protective grasp, Caleb gripped the small bundle of his baby sister tighter; knowing nothing but the need to run, to escape, to survive. A stray branch slashed his face as he ran on, droplets of blood dripping slowly onto Lily’s uncovered face.  Looking round, Caleb noticed the bare trees; devoid of any life or colour. This was an evil place, he could sense it. Whoops of excitement and snapping branches followed the young Elarian, taunting him as he ran. Time passed slowly, and Caleb’s body began to slow under the strain; the escape becoming more difficult. Roots from the lifeless trees rose up from the ground, threatening to drag him down into a deathly embrace.

              The hunters drew closer, not just the branches snapping but whole tree’s crumbling under the path of the unrelenting horror that closed on him. Hopelessness overwhelmed Caleb and looking down deep into his sisters innocent blue eyes he said ‘I’m so sorry little one’  his voice breaking with emotion. Tears sprouted, dropping pitifully onto the cloth surrounding the one he had sworn to protect. ‘I’m so sorry that you’ll never have the chance to grow. To live.  To love. I’m so sorry that I can’t save you. I’m so sorry for everything little Lily.’.  Haunting cackles echoed through the trees, the merciless pursuers taunting his every move. ‘But I can give you my love. My life’. The demons emerged from the unremitting darkness, their figures surrounding the  two children. Their blood-red eyes glaring down, humourless smiles revealing blood stained canines.

                 In defiance, Caleb forced himself to meet their demonic gaze. A shiver crept up his spine, causing realisation to dawn slowly that he had sunk to his waist. During the decision of where to make his final stand, Mother Nature had done exactly what he had feared most. The earth had begun to swallow him whole. Panic besieged his senses, fear showing, unchecked, in his childish eyes. The cloaked demons howled louder, sensing his peril. As Caleb struggled against the ever the looming doomed fate, he sank quicker. Holding his sister above his head, he screamed curses at his tormenters. The mud has reached his shoulders now, and his arms ached as he attempted to save his innocent sister from a meeting with death. Caleb looked up for one last glance at his only surviving relative, and shuddered in horror, as his infant sister’s laughter joined the throng of howls. But not with the chuckle of a new born child, no, more a mournful cackle that escaped the throats of demons whom existed in the void of the most horrific nightmares.

‘You couldn’t protect me’, droned Lily, in an emotionless voice. ‘You as good as killed me’. The dried blood and mud on her petite face giving off a demonic façade.

                ‘No Lily, I couldn’t!’ Tears streamed down Caleb’s face, was now caked in muck. The mud rose quicker. ‘I tried!’. Mud spilled his mouth, and a shrill high-pitched voice rang in his ears before it crept higher and engulfed him into the depths of the earth.