Post by TheNewBreed on Jul 23, 2017 23:59:41 GMT -5
Origins of the Oracle Stone: Chapter 1
As the first rays of sunlight soar over the horizon and a rooster crows nearby to signify the beginning of a brand new day, Adavan rolls over on his straw pallet beneath the rough cotton cover stretched across the wooden frame and tied at each corner. His short, dusty, pale yellow hair was like straw as well, jutting from his head in all directions and at odd angles. He stared indignantly at the small window in the wooden wall nearby covered by a single smoky glass pane. He hated the dawn so much... as it stole him away from his dreams of adventure and a life he felt he could not wait to begin in earnest. How he longed to remain there in the land of dreams forever... but there was plenty of work to be done.
There was always work to be done.
“Hurry, Adavan. There is lots to do today, son. Your father is already at the smithy and wants to see you before you go to the stable this morning, so get up, and let's get moving.” his mother calls from the other room.
The smell of sausages, corn cakes, and cherry wood smoke drifts on the morning air luring him from his bed as he pulls his breeches closed and slides into his thin cotton smock. As he groggily stumbles through the curtain in his doorway into the main room of their home, his sister hands him a bundle of cloth rolled over and over itself, and a plate piled with sausage and corn cakes.
“Thank you, Gabriella. Thank you, Mother,” he says as he pecks his mother on the cheek, and takes another cloth from a hook on the wall.
“Don't forget to stop at the weaver's and check if your sister's dress for the festival will be done today. Let your father know if it will, and I can stop there on my way back from the Smithy this afternoon, alright?” his mother asks him as she washes the pots from breakfast in the basin near the stove.
“Yes, Mother. I will, right after I check with the carpenter about the beams for the new pulley system. Birch told me yesterday his father said the lumber would be ready today. Father and I are supposed to build the last part of the framing near the forge when I am done at the Stables today. If everything goes well it should be ready to use by tomorrow.” he tells her softly as he loads his plate of food into the cloth and rolls it up with a small wheel of cheese, loading both bundles into a sack and slinging it over his shoulder.
“OK, good. Well, don't wait then. Go on. Get yourself off to work, Adavan. We have much to do today and you're putting us behind.” Gabriella says with a wry smile and a good natured chuckled at her brother. She knew what kind of work being a stable-boy for Master Grint could be. He was kind and fair, but the labor of it all was torturous, if not downright disgusting, to her at least.
To find oneself knee deep in horse shit nearly every day for years was a nightmare for her... and occasionally, Adavan would torture her with the tales of it just for fun.
As Adavan left home that day, his head danced with fantastic images of adventures and a whole new world out there... one he would someday explore. A world of magic and monsters, and of honor and courage. That world was nothing like this town. It was nothing like the rural life of a day in and day out toil to eat and survive.
His father had done very well for their family and could have easily afforded a much nicer house than the one they had lived in his entire life. Instead, he had spent most of what he earned to build and outfit the smithy and find and procure the best metals to be had. His father's skill was art at it's finest, and merchants would come from around the world to order custom work from him.
It was an easy trade when he thought about it... a fancy house with piles of lavish possessions or worldwide renown at a skill he was passionate about.
His family had a nice enough home, and they ate well.
They were respected by the townsfolk, and his father ran an honest business.
They were happy.
He had opportunity and hope, and the chance to realize his dreams... if he could just survive the internship with Grint and learn enough from his father in his spare time to craft his own armor and sword.
He still hadn't quite figure out how to actually BECOME a squire yet... but one day... when he had... he would become a knight like the legends tell about, and children would hear of his heroic deeds in their night-tales to inspire the dreams of adventures in a whole new generation of knightly aspiration.
Adavan passed by the Carpenter's and saw his friend, the son of Yulan the Carpenter, Birch, out in front of the lumber yard helping to load a cart of planks. He had confirmed the lumber would be ready in the afternoon and Adavan continued onward on his journey. He was happy that the day's plans had so far gone smoothly.
His father would be pleased everything was in order for later.
The new pulley system would help his father do even more work than before and would take care of a lot of the heaviest parts of his craft. His father would be able to move large amounts of ore and ingots around the shop without help and would be able to smelt more efficiently than ever before. The work had been wearing on him for some time now and Adavan would not be there forever to help with the smithy. As the years had passed, the work grew ever more tiresome and his father had devised this pulley system to help with that. It had taken nearly a month to build the framing and the hardware for it all. Tonight, they would finally be able to finish it up and get the system in working order by tomorrow.
It was going to be a very long day.
As Adavan made his way towards the center of town, he passed several houses built close together and several stores of various sorts. He waved at the Baker as he passed the mill and smelled some of the wonderful flowers on display in a fairly upscale boutique that had recently opened after a fairly profitable trade deal had been brokered with his father.
As it were, a well to do noble had seen a sword crafted by his father at court last fall and had made the journey all the way from the capitol to see him. After a few days that the Lord had been in town, he had commissioned the Smithy for the armament of his men at arms and had even asked him to come live somewhere far away in a big house. His father had happily complied to the arrangement of the crafting of armor and weapons for the Lord, but in his own smithy, right here, at home. He had explained it quite easily enough, too.
He told the Lord simply... he had spent his entire life honing his craft right here, in his own smithy, where he had spent his whole existence. If one sword was good enough to make him come all the way out there to hire him, it was good enough to keep coming out to pick up all of the other things he wanted him to make from the town where he had spent his entire life becoming that good at what he had decided to do with himself.
The Lord complied, agreed, and hired him on the spot.
Now... all he had to do was help his father get the pulley system installed and in working order and he would be able to meet the order with time to spare. With any luck, by next year, his father will have men from all over the world looking to apprentice with him and the smithy will become the cornerstone for their small town to truly flourish into a trading hub.
If nothing else, Lord Penderthal will surely be earning some renown for having a craftsman of his father's caliber living in his lands and it definitely gains Adavan some footing to finally realize his dreams of becoming a squire... and then a knight.
As Adavan walked merrily along the road into town, his mind swam with wild dreams of his future and of the glorious things he would do with his life as a knight. The possibilities before him were amazing and wonderful and he wanted so badly to just rush off and be a part of them right now!
Patience...
He had to wait... until the right time... when he had finally finished all of his training and had become not only a master horseman, but at least a passable blacksmith... then... then the world would be opened to him, and his future could truly begin!
Before long, Adavan had come to the Weaver's.
It was a sturdy two-story stone crafted home. The shop was downstairs and Birch's father had made the most beautiful display windows for the front. They were framed in a dark cherry wood and extended from the front of the shop on stilts. As Adavan approached the door, he looked up into the display window and there, putting some fresh flowers on the lapel of a fine blue silk suit, was Emma.
His feet faltered and failed to move.
His mouth suddenly grew dry.
He forgot to breathe.
Then... he realized she was looking right at him.
Her mouth lifted in a friendly smile and he panicked.
Frozen in the moment... unable to think... suddenly wondering if he had been struck dumb.
He had no idea what he should do, or should not do for that matter.
It was as if his entire life had never existed and he was a new born babe... and then, finally, he could control his limbs again!
Without a moment wasted, he darted under the bright blue awning and into the shop trying desperately to untie his innards from the knots they had become as he made a swift beeline for the counter to avoid Emma near the front of the shop.
Fortunately, Emma's mother, one of the finest weavers around, was behind the counter working on an embroidery in a small wooden ring. The golden threads of a giant eagle sparkled and shone on the purest of white silks. Adavan knew this piece was for the Royal Court. He recognized the mark of the crown anywhere.
“Good morn, ma'am. I hope you are well?” he inquired politely.
“Oh, yes my boy... quite well today I think! We have a lot of that to thank your father for, I should say,” she replied with a chipper tone and a broad smile.
“Well, we are all just happy that others are benefiting from the attention of my father's new contract. We hope the increase in business and travel here will help everyone who has been here really make their mark and finally make their dreams come true. We have a great group of craftsmen and artists here and it feels good to finally feel like it wasn't just for nothing.” he says, his words full of hope and humility in equal shares.
“No... what your father's done for us is bigger than all that, but that's kind of you to say, anyhow. Did your mum send you round to make sure about your sister's dress, or did you come by to see Emma today?” she asks knowingly, putting Adavan on the spot as Emma makes her way from the front of the shop through the stands and towards the counter.
“Um... no... I mean yes... I mean... yes I came to make sure about the dress. Will it be done today?” he stammers as his face flushes red and his vision blurs.
“Awwww... yes, deary, the dress is ready. Tell your mum to come round and get it whenever she can,” she says as Emma rounds the counter and disappears into the back room.
“Yes, ma'am... I will. Thank you.” he stammers again before rushing towards the door and flying into the street where he can finally breathe again... and directly into someone walking on the road.
Fruits and loaves of bread go rolling across the road as a basket of food tumble to the ground and an aging woman in a purple shawl and woolen dress slumps to the ground in a heap
“OH NO! I am so sorry!” Adavan exclaims as he rushes to her aid.
He helps her to her feet swiftly and gathers the basket of food as quickly as he can, apologizing profusely about his blunder.
“Adavan. It's fine. I am alright. I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine.” she answers him as he realizes who she is.
“Widow Murlane... I'm terribly sorry for knocking you over. Let me carry these home for you. It's the least I can do.” he apologizes again.
“You have other things to do than walking me to my house. Go... hurry to your father and off to Grint's. I can make due on my own.” she says gruffly.
“Ma'am... I would be saddened if you did not allow me to help you home. My father does not expect me yet and my master will understand the delay, if, in fact, there even is one. Please allow me to do this?” he pleaded solemnly.
“Well... I can hardly refuse you now, can I?” she says as she places her arm into his own and turns towards the center of town.
“I happen to know her mother and father would approve of the union... if you were to approach it, that is.” she says slyly as they walk away from the Weaver's.
“I... um... what? What do you mean by that?” he stammers, surprised by the stark nature in which she spoke about his adoration for Emma and embarrassed that it was commonly known how he found himself dumbstruck in her presence.
“If you were to find the spine son, they would have you as part of their family proudly. Any young girl of betrothal age would be plainly daft to turn down your offer after the windfall of our town at the hands of your father... and you blithely wander through life completely oblivious to your status and renown,” she says to him incredulously, almost in awe of his naivety.
“I don't understand what my father's recent dealings have to do with a parents desire to agree to betrothal. That seems a ridiculous thing to influence the happiness of their daughters, and furthermore...” he started to say completely caught off guard at the very idea of his father's business being anything other than a boon for his town and for his family before the widow shushes him sharply and cuts him off.
“Adavan, you are too young of spirit yet to fathom the precipice you stand upon in this moment. There will come a day when this fantastic image of your future that you have playing whimsical melodies upon your mind is no more and when that day comes and your dreams are no longer the thing at the forefront of your desires, you will see the truth of the future you only dream about. The days of childish adoration and fantastic ideas of things you know nothing about are soon to come to an end... and how you go about dealing with your future from that point on will determine just who it is you are destined to become. Nothing you do today will matter then and you will either choose to rise and meet adversity with honor and courage... or you will fall into cowardice and destroy the dreams you have always believed were your destiny.” the widow tells him as she stops and turns to face him with a piercing glare that cut right to his soul.
“Heed my words Adavan, for they may be the very thing that spurs you to find your destiny in the moment of your greatest test. Fate has a strange way of pulling the strings of our lives and you should be wary of the outcome of hasty decisions. Hurry along now boy. Your father's waiting for his breakfast, and I'm sure the longer you tarry the more chores Grint will add to your list.” she says to the dumbstruck boy over her shoulder as she makes her way up the stairs to her home along the road to town.
Adavan stands there, in the middle of the road, staring blankly at the door to the widows home contemplating the words she spoke so intensely as they kept playing through his mind.
“Nothing you do today will matter then and you will either choose to rise and meet adversity with honor and courage... or you will fall into cowardice and destroy the dreams you have always believed were your destiny.” she had said mysteriously...
“Heed my words Adavan... for they may be the very thing that spurs you to find your destiny in the moment of your greatest test...” Her voice echoed in his mind with each word so filled with foreboding and ominousness.
“Boy! Get out of the way! Are you daft?” a voice yelled at him and startled him back to the world around him.
Adavan spun around just before a mule-drawn cart came through the center of the road into town, narrowly missing him as he awkwardly dove to the side of the road and tumbled into the woman's yard in a heap.
Adavan shook his head side to side and tried to regain his bearings. The man driving the mule with a small leather tether attached to a long stick was cursing at him under his breath as he continued along his way towards the markets at the town center.
Adavan was still reeling from the conversation he had just had with the widow and was not entirely sure that he even understood half of what she had said to him, and was definitely confused about the betrothal thing and why his father had anything to do with it in the first place. They were not a special family and were surely not nobility even six or seven generations removed by any stretch of the imagination.
While his family name was respected here and more recently, farther abroad than it had used to, it still didn't make any sense to him as to what she meant by it all.
Adavan slowly picked himself up from the widow's modest lawn and brushed himself off. He gathered his sack and made way for the town center, finally, with his chores for the morning commute across the town finished.
As he made his way across the square beyond the multi-colored market stalls while vendors set up for the morning of business, he heard a loud crashing noise through the open doors of the forge.
“Blast it all! It's no use even trying to get this right until the pulleys are in place! I'm just wasting iron and time with this!” he father's voice rang out harshly, obviously frustrated with the work at hand.
Adavan slid to a stop in the center of the massive oak doors standing wide open into the heart of the forge. His father was hoisting iron chunks out of the smelter with a sort of gaffing pole he had designed for the task. As they hit the floor, he poured a bucket of water from a trough nearby over each one of them as they sizzled and smoked. He tossed the gaff aside and began gathering them into a crucible for remelting with a stout iron shovel as Adavan cleared his throat from the doorway.
“What's the matter, Father?” he asked inquisitively. His hunger to know more and more about his father's trade was steadfast, and his father appreciated his interest very much.
“This iron is amazing and it will make the finest swords I have ever produced for the Lord and my commission... but I have to get the fires hotter. This ore is special, Adavan...” he says to his son as he carefully inspects a large chunk of the ore from a crate on his workbench. “... and isn't just made up of iron. The ore itself is nearly half titanium, and if I can forge the ingots from these ores... well... the Court has never seen a blade as fine as the one I could make from this. No sword would stand against the blades I plan to make. The Lord's armies would cut through the lines of his enemies with ease... and he would earn great renown and power within the Royal Court. The tales of my swords would travel around the world and others would come then, to make this town of ours a center of commerce and trade. Now... if we can just get this pulley system finished tonight and the new bellows will work tomorrow, I can finally get started on my work.” he explains to his son who is listening intently to every word.
“As soon as I finish at Grint's, I'll come back here straight away so we can get that finished. Birch told me the lumber was ready and they would bring it over today. I'm sure he would come help and so would his dad if we asked them.” Adavan said a little sheepishly.
“No. We can do the work ourselves. No need to bother them late into the night. They have their own affairs to tend to before the festival, just like we do. Besides... the work will be easy enough for us to finish on our own.” he says matter of factly, not liking to ask for help if the need isn't there.
“I know. I just...” Adavan starts before his Father interrupts.
“Not another word about it. The work will be easy enough for us to do when you are done tonight at the stables. Best not to bother them about it. Understood?” he asks directly in the tone that Adavan understood all too well. His Father meant what he said.
“Yes, sir. I brought breakfast...” Adavan was quick to change the subject as he unrolled his sack of food onto the workbench wanting to change his Father's mood as quickly as possible.
“Ah! Now that's a good lad, there. Did you speak to the weaver on your way here this morning?” he asked as they gathered their share of the sack and began to tear into the cheeses and loaves of bread.
“I did.” Adavan manages between chewing. “The dress is ready, so when Mother comes back from the square today she should stop by and pick it up.” he finishes explaining after swallowing a mouthful of cheese.
“Good. Good. Your sister will be very happy to hear that. You should be running along and get off to Grint's. You know how he feels about you being late.” his Father reminds him as he wanders towards the forge studying a diagram he had drawn planning out the bellows and the pulleys he was to install later that day.
Adavan gathered his loaf of bread and what was left of the cheese wheel and hugged his Father quickly before he left to head out to the stables. The sun was hot that day as it climbed into the sky above, and the work was arduous and miserable at times... but eventually, as the sun began to fall from the sky, Adavan finished with his daily chores and the list Master Grint had added for his lateness. He wished Grint and his wife a good night and headed back towards the smithy where he would spend several more hours late into the night finishing the construction on the pulley system before his day would finally be done.
He followed a line of townsfolk into the center of town from all corners of the surrounding lands where they headed home after their toiling day had come to an end. As they wound their way into the town proper and towards the town square, Adavan saw a strange man standing by the roadside beside a cart. He had never seen this man before and while there had been recent newcomers and visitors from far away lands, there was something about THIS man that drew his attention like no other person he had ever met.
The man was lean and fairly tall but was wearing a woven hat that covered his face as Adavan made his way closer and closer. His robes were brown, and obviously well traveled. Beneath them, he had on a rich blue tunic that had faded over a long lifetime of hard use but still held true to it's strong, deep hue. Adavan thought to himself that while his clothes were well worn and faded from time, once, they must have been very fine clothes indeed.
It was odd to him that a farmer hocking wares roadside here, just outside of town, would be dressed in clothes that once would have cost a farmers wages for ten years with no droughts and every penny of his bumper crop for the same span.
As he studied him closer, even more things seemed very out of place about the man and his cart.
At his hip, hidden mostly by a brightly colored scarf slung around his waist as a belt, snuck the quickest peek of a jeweled pommel so intricately crafted that it must have been hand made by a master smith. Adavan knew his blades... and he knew THAT was no farmer's knife.
He watched the man intently as the line of townsfolk passed him by and Adavan moved along with the crowd. Just as he drew near to passing the man, his face lifted and he looked directly into Adavan's eyes.
His eyes were pale blue and striking, like round sheets of ice lit from within by the morning sun. The stare was intense and overwhelming and it felt like a force slamming into his chest as he could feel this man's thoughts poking into his mind... sharp barbs of energy arcing to and fro and finally latching onto his mind as images flashed before his eyes of his memories from the last few days.
After what seemed like an eternity, Adavan could see clearly again as the man's stare continued to bore into his very soul, wanting nothing more than to look away but unable to avert his gaze from the man.
“Go home and forget that you were rudely staring at me, whelp.” the strange words echoed in his mind in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
After a moment, Adavan realized he was walking along the road again and turned to look at the man again... but he was gone.
The cart, the donkey, and the icy-eyed man had vanished as if they were never there.
Adavan looked down the road towards town and then back again, his wonderment at the disappearing act growing with each time he turned his head.
His mind raced with the possibilities. Fanciful images of adventure sprouted in his mind and from there, Adavan was lost to the world of his whimsical mindscape.
Eventually, Adavan reached the smithy and after several long hours of work, the pulley system and the new bellows were fully installed and functional. He and his father cleaned up the shop and closed the doors down for the night before heading home.
The day had been a very long one, but all night, Adavan's mind had swam with fantastic ideas about the man with icy eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about the terror and exhilaration of it all. It lit his mind on fire and it spread to every corner of his fantasies by the time the work was finally done for the day.
He should have been exhausted, but instead, his mind was moving a mile a minute.
As he turned to follow his father across the square towards home, there, in front of the Inn across the way, stood the man with the icy eyes and now, he was not alone. Huddle with him was what Adavan truly believed to be just a legend prior to this moment and a giant of a stony skinned man.
Astonished, Adavan froze in his tracks and just stared at the trio of odd characters just standing in the town square. He had never before seen anything like it and he wasn't the only one taking more than a moment to process the sight before him.
Adavan had heard tales of the Cat-folk of the Eastern Forests, but he had serious doubts about their validity... until now.
The pointed ears standing up from the sides of the tan and gray mottled fur of the leather armored cat folk were tufted with long strands of hair, and a tail tipped with white twitched side to side sticking out from the backside of the armored breaches. The sight of the creature thought to be merely a story aside, their companion was equally as astonishing.
He stood nearly seven and a half feet tall, his gray skin mottled and taut across his massive frame. His features were rigid angles, nearly chiseled it seemed from this distance, from living stone. Draped across his broad shoulders and clasped in the front with a massive golden emblem of Pelor, the Lord of Light, was a road weary tabard of the Order of the Light, and immediately, Adavan knew that this giant from some other realm was a Radiant Servant of Pelor.
He had learned about the Order from a knight who had visited not many months ago.
He sat in the Inn listening to the tales of the old knight for nearly the entire evening. They were all fascinating and filled his mind with new adventures for weeks after the knight had left.
One of his favorites the Knight had told was about the Order of Light, and how their purpose was to drive away the legions of undead and the foul demons and devils from other worlds and to protect mankind from the vile forces of evil at work across the far reaches of the planes.
He would recognize that emblem anywhere.
Intrigued beyond control, Adavan stood there staring once more at the icy-eyed man and his exotic companions from lands he had never imagined even existed.
“Adavan! Come on, son. Mind your own business and let's get going towards home. I'm hungry, and tomorrow is another long day for the both of us.” his Father remarks to him gruffly, reminding him of his manners and snapping him back to reality once more.
The entire trip home, Adavan marched along in silence. His mind sprang to life with millions of ideas after seeing the truly amazing sights that he had seen in his town tonight. During dinner, he barely ate a bite, his mind occupied with imaginings of wondrous varieties. Finally, even when he went to bed, sleep would not find him for the adventures playing out in his brain even after the day he had and the work that had been done.
Eventually, restlessness won him over and curiosity drove him from his bed. He tossed on a clean woolen tunic and leather breeches and crept silently through the door and out into the night unheard and unseen.
Adavan's heart raced as he made his way swiftly down the darkened road into town. His mind was scattered in a million different directions, and honestly, he had no idea what he thought he was doing. What? Was he just going to just walk into the Inn in the middle of the night and see if they were in the commons room? Was he going to inquire with the Innkeeper as to the man's guests? He had no idea what he even expected... but he couldn't just lay there while his mind concocted untold stories about these adventurers who he may never see again after tonight.
He just couldn't do it.
Finally, after the journey along the darkened road into town, Adavan approached the Inn trying his best to be inconspicuous... in the town's square... in the middle of the night... outside of the Inn... just minding his own business, of course.
As he approached the Inn, he stood on his tiptoes and peered over the edge of the windows into the commons room. There, sitting at a table was the icy eyed man and a shirtless man covered in a riot of colorful pictures and scenes etched into his skin in a diagram of scenery and animal and symbols of stylized runes and magic inscriptions.
As he turned to head towards the doors of the inn, there before him, silently snarling at him, stands a massive, shaggy-maned dire lion, his yellow eyes fixed on his own and his legs coiled to spring at the slightest hint of movement by his prey.
In a panic, Adavan backs away a step, slowly, holding his hands up in front of him, then another, before running into something solid behind him.
Slowly, keeping the ferocious massive cat in his sights, Adavan turns his head to see what obstacle blocks his path.
As the taunt mottled gray skin and the worn tabard of Pelor come into view, Adavan cranes his neck to look way up at the massive giant behind him, nearly forgetting about the lion poised to pounce at any moment in his sheer terror.
“I wouldn't move if I were you... He looks hungry.” says the giant Servant of the Lord of Light, his voice like stones grinding against one another as he forms the words slowly.
The moment is far too much for Adavan as he slumps to the ground, fainted straight away.
* * *
“I think he's waking up...” the gravely voice of the giant Pelorite drifts to his ears.
Adavan's mind is groggy and scattered. He hears the words, but he doesn't understand them. His mind grasps in vain to put them into some semblance of meaning, but the fog of his recent unconsciousness envelopes his thoughts as he tries to shake the cobwebs and see his surroundings.
“So it seems, he is indeed.” comes the fluid voice of the roadside trader, no longer gruff, but guarded and pensive.
“Who sent you?” the voice of the trader says bluntly, with an authority and confidence of a man who is used to having his questions answered when he asks them.
Adavan groans as he tries to roll over onto his side and pry his eyes open to take in what is happening.
“I said, WHO SENT YOU?” the man's voice boomed in his head as electricity crawled up his spine and lit across his mind like wildfire. The sensation was nothing like Adavan had ever felt before, both exhilarating and excruciating at the same time
Adavan screams out in pain as the electricity crackles across his spongy pink mind and then fades away as Adavan sucks in giant gulps of air and pants as he sputters upon the ground.
“WHO ARE YOU???” the man screams in his mind as the stabbing jolts of electricity arc across his mind once more, his back clenching tightly arching him up off the ground violently, convulsing with the force of the shock.
“My name is Adavan! Please... don't kill me! No one sent me! Please?” Adavan finally shouts at them as the pain subsides and he can open his eyes and see the ragtag group assembled around him.
Terror tears through him and he trembles beneath the weight of it. The massive Servant of Pelor is off to the left, his tabard dingy and worn from years on the road. To the right is the tattooed man from the Inn, and nearby is a man in a brown and green mottled cloak with his hood drawn low over his face. Then, from either side, the low rumble of the growling sends shivers down his spine as he can feel the dire lions breath on his neck. Hot and heavy, stinking of rot and carrion, the fetid stench of it makes his stomach flip and the fear of the lions makes his bladder give way as he soils himself.
The tears well up in his eyes and the man from the roadside cart takes a long step closer and crouches low to get in his face and peer into his very soul. Adavan feels as though he is being judged by the Gods so intense is the man's stare as the first of the tears finally break free and race down his cheeks in a suicidal dive from his chin His lip quivers in the torch-fire and he thinks at any moment, he might actually be dead.
“Why were you watching us at the Inn tonight, boy?” the voice in his head echoes and booms, demanding answers without hesitation.
“I just wanted to see you... That was all! I couldn't sleep thinking about you... and... and I snuck out of th...” he stammers before the man with the icy eyes waves his hand across Adavan's face and the boy falls back against the ground, snoring softly in an instant.
* * *
It was hard to tell if it was the smell of smoke or the thunderous boom that woke him first... but Adavan found himself laying sprawled unceremoniously across the hard ground of the forest near his town. The acrid air burned his nose and he soon began coughing violently as he looked around to find the source of the smoke.
There, in the direction of town and through the trees, was a bright red and yellow glow, flickering and dancing in the darkness beyond. Adavan knew, his limbs frozen in place as his mind screamed to move.
The horror of it just wouldn't register and he denied it to himself. He tried to somehow logic out another explanation, but deep down he knew.
“No...” he whispered to himself, alone in the darkened wood.
Finally, his body moving of its own volition as the shock of it all still clouds his thoughts, he leaps to his feet and races towards town as fast as his leg will carry him.
Thud...
Thud...
Thud...
His feet hit the dirt hard and fast, his arms churning at his sides as he goes. His breath comes swiftly, but still, he presses on and flies through the dark towards the horizon of trees before him. After what seems like an eternity, Adavan comes to the ridge line overlooking the town and freezes right there in mid stride as he takes in the carnage below.
The flames danced high above the thatched roof houses and stonework buildings of the craftsmen near the town square. The Inn had been demolished and chunks of its timber framing stuck out at odd angles like the skeleton of some massive beast that had been ripped apart and left to drown in its own blood.
The air catches in his throat as he gasps for breath, winded after the sprint and he collapses on the ridge there, looking out over the valley below. All around the rubble that was once town square dances a ring of grotesque little man-like creatures with leathery wings and curved, gleaming claws at the tip of each sinewy finger. Their feral eyes and slavering, toothy maws are wide in evil grins as their long forked tongues dart to and fro.
Hovering above the town, held aloft by massive bony framed wings stretched wide with creaking skin as they flap slowly high above, is a giant bony and charred skinned monster with glowing red eyes streaming flames from the sides as if pouring hellfire itself from the Abyss. It's horned jaws worked open and closed as thick strings of corrosive spittle seeped between dagger-like teeth and fell upon the ground, bubbling and steaming as it melted anything it touched away as if it never were. It's massive horns grew from its forehead and curled around in wide spirals until they tapered to blackened, razor sharp tips.
“Where are you, Lightbringer! The Dark Lord of the Brothers wants your head, and I mean to give it to him!” it bellows above the town as the words grind and tumble awkwardly from its demonic mouth.
From the corner of his eye, a flash of movement catches Adavan's attention and as he turns, he sees Birch with his father and two of the other townspeople sneak around a building heading towards the edge of town and the safety of the forest beyond.
In a moment, Adavan was off, skirting through the treeline and down the ridge overlooking the town. Running as fast as he could, he moved around the forest perimeter headed towards his friend and the townsfolk with him hoping to intercept them before they made it too far away. He needed to know if they had seen his family... and he hoped they were still alive.
He wasn't going to leave without them if he could help it, and the Gods help those twisted abominations of hellfire if he couldn't.
“Lightbringer! This is your last chance to come out and face your fate... or others will pay for your insolence with their lives! My Dark Lord commands your head... now come out here and give it to me, vermin!” the coarsely grating words fall gracelessly from the toothy maw high above the town, echoing hollowly off of the rubble of stone and wood below.
Adavan slowed and turned his shoulders towards the town to see what was happening, and in the moment... he wished he hadn't.
As he looked out over the valley, he saw the behemoth monster hovering above what was left of the town... and then he saw the monster grin the vilest, most malicious grin he had ever seen before it raised its arms up over its head and began to conjure what appeared to be a pinpoint of reddish light floating between his massive, clawed fingers.
“I warned you, Lightbringer! Their blood is on your hands!” the demon bellows once more before the red pinpoint of light blossomed between its palms and swirls into being at his command. The fiery cloud of shadow and flames undulates in its grasp, swirling and writhing inside of the sphere floating within the monster's barbed talons. With a thunderous roar, the beast hurls the ball of darkness and flame towards the edge of the town square as it crackles and hisses along its course. The sphere whizzes past the rubble of the first buildings and weaves its way through the debris-riddled streets before streaking through an alleyway and blowing three wood and thatch houses right off of their foundations. Splinters and smoldering bits of hay explode outwards in all directions as a body flies through the air and smashes into a nearby tree, snapping the man's back on impact as his body wraps around the trunk backward and he slumps to the ground in a heap.
All too swiftly, Adavan realizes that the body was Birch's father, the Carpenter.
A guttural, primal cry of anguish rips through the night as Birch screams out from the rubble of the blast.
Adavan, no longer concerned with hiding in the woods while these monsters destroy his town and kill his friends, breaks from the tree line and heads directly towards the blast, hoping that Birch was still able to flee. Tears streak down his face as he races across the distance between the forest and the edge of the town, anger and fury interlaced with sorrow and fear pour through his entire body as the adrenaline drives him forward long after he should have collapsed.
So focused on getting to Birch was Adavan that he didn't notice the small pack of demons rounding the remains of a house on the edge of town before it was too late. Before he knew it, the monsters had surrounded him as their eyes glint red and yellow in the firelight and the slobbering jaws drip thick ropes of vile saliva onto the ground as they close in on him.
“...you will either choose to rise and meet adversity with honor and courage... or you will fall into cowardice and destroy the dreams you have always believed were your destiny.” the words of the widow float through his mind as he looks around him and realizes his danger.
In the flash of an instant, the tear-filled eyes of the boy Adavan was just hours ago glaze over, he blinks slowly once, twice, then a third time, and as his eyes open that third time, no longer are they the bloodshot eyes of a terrified child... but steely and filled with rage.
Adavan crouches low and draws a long boot knife from the soft leather boot of his right foot and rises to his feet once more, almost regally, his sudden bearing and resolve shocking even to himself as he stares down the monster to his right, then his left as he instinctively salutes them by bringing the hilt to his forehead before lunging to his left and plunging the blade in through the hollow above the beasts collar and into the muscular base of its neck.
With a twist of the long knife deep inside the creature's neck, Adavan kicks the monster away as it gurgles and gushes it's steaming putrid blood into the ground at his feet before turning to his right and diving headlong towards the next one.
In a frenzy of slashes and gore, Adavan slices into the monsters surging all around him and one after another, the pack of feral minions falls before his rage. Before long, the sounds of battle have drawn more attention and another wave of demons begins their surge into the alleyway nearby and towards him, but Adavan sees them coming and with a hop over a low wall and short sprint across a field, is off once more in the direction of his friend not far away from the debris of the terrifying ordeal his town had endured this night.
“Birch! Birch! Where are you?” he screams into the pile of broken homes and what amounts to little more than gravel piles and splintered wood now.
“Adavan?” the voice of Birch floats over a pile of rocks and a large roof beam weakly, but enough for Adavan to hear him and scramble over the pile, to see Birch there, pinned under the other end of the roof beam with blood draining from his ears and nose and mouth in crimson rivers. One of his legs in mangled beneath the beam, and deep, dark red blood pools beneath him.
“Birch! I'm coming!” he shouts at him over the noise of the fire of the ranks of demonic troops flooding into the town from the forest.
“Too late for all that now, Adavan,” Birch says sarcastically as he smiles up at him, the dark red of the blood washed across his teeth as a bubble wells up from his lips and bursts in a spray of crimson droplets as he chuckles to himself.
“Way to go out, huh, Adavan? At least it would make a great story if there were a bard around to see it!” he gurgles as he drips blood onto his chest and the pool below him gets bigger by the moment.
“Stop it,” Adavan admonishes him”... right now you just shut up and help me get this beam off of you!” he screams at him, angry that he could joke about his own death like that, and struggle to keep it together himself.
“Awwww buddy... don't worry about me. I'm not going to make it. I know...” he starts before Adavan grabs him by the face and pulls his gaze to his own.
“I am not going to let you die here, so you just shut up and help me!” he yells.
Birch smiles at him with his blood stained teeth gleaming in the firelight.
“I think they might have something to say about that.” he says to him as he points over his shoulder.
Adavan looks over his shoulder and sees the pack of demons making their way across the field not far from them, their eyes gleaming at them, hungry and vile.
Birch grabs Adavan long dagger from his grasp and shoves him towards the town.
“Go you fool... find your family. I'll hold em off as long as I can to buy you some time, but it won't be much!” he says to his boyhood friend.
“No, Birch! I'm going to get you out of here! You're the fool if you think otherwise!” he shouts at him as he tries to shove the beam free to no avail.
“Adavan... you can't move it! I'm not going to make it out, but you still can! Go! Now! Before it's too late!” he shouts back, pleading with him to just save himself.
“Birch... I...” Adavan starts before Birch holds his hand up to his mouth to shut him up.
“Just go. I love you, Brother, but you have to go... NOW!” he says again as he shoves him once more towards the town.
“I love you too, Birch. I'm sorry I...” he blubbers, his resolve failing as he watches his friends life ebb slowly away.
“Will you just get the hell out of here! I can't be a hero if you don't go so I can save you, alright? Get your family to safety, and then make these bastards pay for what they did here. Don't let me die in vain!” he says as Adavan finally turns to leave.
He looks back over his shoulder once, as he reaches a low wall on the other side of the ruined estate.
“Come on you ugly little beholder treats! I got your damned fate right over here!” Birch shouts taunting the demons out of their path towards Adavan and shifting their interest to him for the moment.
“I will, Brother. I will avenge us all!” Adavan whispers to himself as he hops the wall and disappears into the night.
* * *
As Adavan cautiously picked his way through the ruined streets of the town he had called home his entire life, the acrid smoke billowed through the darkness as the flickering orange glow licked at the night sky and cast frightening shadows into the darkened woods beyond the village. The boy crept through alleyways lined with rubble and splinters of wood, partially blasted buildings dotting the roadway on either side between the massive craters of the explosive fires of the demon hordes that had filled the night with terrified screams and the stink of the countless cremated bodies intermingled with sulfur and brimstone in a sickening haze that hung in the air and burned in his nostrils.
What in all the God's names is happening? Did that man and his companions do this? Why are all of these monsters destroying our town?
Adavan continues on across the blasted plots of land and piles of debris pock marking the remains of the town that had once been the homes of the men and women he had known all of his life. He took care not to fall in the detritus and to keep a keen eye out for more of those monstrous things roaming about looking for survivors. He pressed on as swiftly as he could for the caution he took and wanted desperately to make it to his home before the demons did.
He hoped he could anyway.
He hoped his family had at least gotten to safety and that he could find them, alive and well.
He didn't know what he would do without them... or what he would do to avenge them.
Finally, as Adavan came around a ruined farm house that used to be his neighbor's, he saw the house... or what was left of it.
The upper story had collapsed entirely onto the bottom floor. Stones and shards of shattered beams lay scattered about what used to be his front yard, now scorched and blackened in the aftermath of what had happened here.
Then, he noticed him.
His father lay at the foot of the stairs into the house. His chest had been flayed open brutally, and one of his arms was mangled and bleeding profusely. Streaks of crimson ran down his face from his nose and mouth, and bubbles of blood formed domes on his lips as he opened and closed his mouth before popping in a gory sprinkle of red flecks across his marred and filthy face.
Nearby, lay his sword... the jeweled hilt and pommel caked in mud and grime and the once gleaming blade was black and sooty.
Adavan rushed across the debris filled space between them and knelt hurriedly at his side.
“Father... hang on Father! I'm going to get you some help. I need to find mother and Gabriella and we need to get into the forest. You have t...” he pleaded before his Father finally put his feeble, shaking hand up to his stuttering, frantic lips to quiet him.
“You have to... have to run, my son. You have to... to get away.” he sputters and gurgles around the words as the blood trickles down his chin and onto his chest.
“NO! I will not run. I will get mother and Gab...” he protests adamantly before his Father again places his weakening fingers up to his mouth.
“No Adavan... you must... must run. Save... save...” he struggles to finish before he gurgles his last few words and falls limp in Adavan's arms.
“FATHER!!!” Adavan screams as he shakes his father by the shoulders rapidly. Panic stricken, he cries out to his Father.
“Father... no...” he whispers to himself as he slumps there on his steps holding his Father's ravaged body in his lap as the tears stream down his face openly.
Then, as he clutches at his Father, sobbing uncontrollably, the tinkling of chains can be heard from inside what remained of their home. A moment later, the door frame and heavy wooden door explode in a shower of splinters raining down on the boy and his Father.
There, standing in the splintered doorway stands a monster wrapped head to toe in a slithering, writhing mass of living chains. Links and bits of razor sharp metal intertwined around the creature's body as it slithered across his frame like snakes in a breeding pit as its visage cracks open in a vicious and bloodthirsty smile revealing it's maw of jagged pointy teeth.
“Ah... and here I thought I was all out of toys at this end of town.” the creature's voice rose in delight with the sound of tinkling coins and shards of iron.
As the monster stepped through the doorway, Adavan rolled away from his Father's body and grasped the hilt of his Father's blade firmly in his hand. The boy rolled through and sprang to his feet, anger and rage building inside of him as he held firm the sword of his Father and he brings the hilt to his forehead in the direction of his Father at the foot of the stairs not far away.
“This is for my family!” Adavan shouts at the chain wrapped thing as it chuckled at him in a metallic chortle that sounds almost like a bowl of razor blades being swirled around and around.
As Adavan set his foot to lunge towards the metallic nightmare, from his right and left suddenly springs blade tipped chains bristling with spikes plunging towards him swiftly. Adavan ducks backward under the first and parries the second with hardly a moment to spare, before spinning towards the first serpent-like chain striking it a solid blow as it redirects itself in mid air and turns to come around on him again.
As his Father's blade collides with the demonic chain, a loud booming clap, like thunder, fills the air, and the jewels in the hilt flash a bright white from deep within before the brilliance flashes up the blade in a bright pulse and shatters the metal as links of the chain fly off in all directions.
“Well, well, well! What do we have here?” the demon chuckles the metallic laugh again as he takes two more steps slowly away from the house and makes his way down the staircase towards him.
“Whelp... you dare to threaten me with Holy Radiance? I have cut down Knights who are far better than you in every way, and today will be no different! I may enjoy the taste of you more, though... I always did prefer the feisty ones... but die you shall!” the demons words ring of clinking coins and steel bits shaken inside a bag.
“No demon... today it will be you will face your mortality,” Adavan growls at it calmly as he grits his teeth and raises the sword back to his forehead in salute. As he touches the gem of the crossguard to his forehead, a cascade of bright white light spills forth from within it and pours down over the boy, glowing brighter and brighter as if he were surrounded by puffy white clouds as the sun breaks over the horizon to begin a new day.
“Today... is the day we take a stand against you, foul kyton. Today is the Dawn of a brighter way... not the coming of the Darkness!” a disembodied voice boomed from within Adavan that was not his own.
The boy's eyes fog over and coalesced into a swirling cloudy mass lit from within by the light of a thousand suns as his skin cracks and breaks apart, a shining golden form beneath emerging as the chunks of his former self melt away into the air and a new Adavan emerges, perfect and terrible in its presence. The very sky above parts then, as the sun shines down through the darkness of the night and the acrid smog of the burning town floats all around.
There, in the center of the cylinder of glittering sunlight, stands a golden avatar of the God Pelor himself. Adavan, in his most glorious form, filled with the power of the God of Light with a blade of pure white energy in his hand and the essence of a Deity of pure light and love flowing through him like a spigot with no barrier to slow it down leveled his gaze at the demon.
Adavan raises the sword above his head then, whirling it in the air with one hand as the glowing light turns into a pulse of pure energy throbbing all around him with each wide swing of the blade.
As the very air around him crackles with pulsing white light and streaks of electricity swirling past, Adavan levels the blade towards the chain wrapped demon as it stars at him in horror, realizing its fate, just as Adavan had promised.
The sword pulses once more, and then a beam of light shoots out from the blade tip and tears through the kyton as if he wasn't even there. The rending of the chains echoes inside the typhoon of power that has engulfed them, and the snapping of the links of the chains sends metal shrapnel flying off in all directions as the demon is torn asunder and destroyed by the power of the God of Light.
As the last remnants of the chain monster are ripped apart and vanish into oblivion by the bright white light and the screams of the creature have died down, the pulsing light grows fainter and fainter before blinking out entirely and leaving Adavan slumped in a heap on the ground next to his father, the raw power of a true God having ravaged his body and left him spent entirely.
* * *
As the first rays of sunlight soar over the horizon and a rooster crows nearby to signify the beginning of a brand new day, Adavan rolls over on his straw pallet beneath the rough cotton cover stretched across the wooden frame and tied at each corner. His short, dusty, pale yellow hair was like straw as well, jutting from his head in all directions and at odd angles. He stared indignantly at the small window in the wooden wall nearby covered by a single smoky glass pane. He hated the dawn so much... as it stole him away from his dreams of adventure and a life he felt he could not wait to begin in earnest. How he longed to remain there in the land of dreams forever... but there was plenty of work to be done.
There was always work to be done.
“Hurry, Adavan. There is lots to do today, son. Your father is already at the smithy and wants to see you before you go to the stable this morning, so get up, and let's get moving.” his mother calls from the other room.
The smell of sausages, corn cakes, and cherry wood smoke drifts on the morning air luring him from his bed as he pulls his breeches closed and slides into his thin cotton smock. As he groggily stumbles through the curtain in his doorway into the main room of their home, his sister hands him a bundle of cloth rolled over and over itself, and a plate piled with sausage and corn cakes.
“Thank you, Gabriella. Thank you, Mother,” he says as he pecks his mother on the cheek, and takes another cloth from a hook on the wall.
“Don't forget to stop at the weaver's and check if your sister's dress for the festival will be done today. Let your father know if it will, and I can stop there on my way back from the Smithy this afternoon, alright?” his mother asks him as she washes the pots from breakfast in the basin near the stove.
“Yes, Mother. I will, right after I check with the carpenter about the beams for the new pulley system. Birch told me yesterday his father said the lumber would be ready today. Father and I are supposed to build the last part of the framing near the forge when I am done at the Stables today. If everything goes well it should be ready to use by tomorrow.” he tells her softly as he loads his plate of food into the cloth and rolls it up with a small wheel of cheese, loading both bundles into a sack and slinging it over his shoulder.
“OK, good. Well, don't wait then. Go on. Get yourself off to work, Adavan. We have much to do today and you're putting us behind.” Gabriella says with a wry smile and a good natured chuckled at her brother. She knew what kind of work being a stable-boy for Master Grint could be. He was kind and fair, but the labor of it all was torturous, if not downright disgusting, to her at least.
To find oneself knee deep in horse shit nearly every day for years was a nightmare for her... and occasionally, Adavan would torture her with the tales of it just for fun.
As Adavan left home that day, his head danced with fantastic images of adventures and a whole new world out there... one he would someday explore. A world of magic and monsters, and of honor and courage. That world was nothing like this town. It was nothing like the rural life of a day in and day out toil to eat and survive.
His father had done very well for their family and could have easily afforded a much nicer house than the one they had lived in his entire life. Instead, he had spent most of what he earned to build and outfit the smithy and find and procure the best metals to be had. His father's skill was art at it's finest, and merchants would come from around the world to order custom work from him.
It was an easy trade when he thought about it... a fancy house with piles of lavish possessions or worldwide renown at a skill he was passionate about.
His family had a nice enough home, and they ate well.
They were respected by the townsfolk, and his father ran an honest business.
They were happy.
He had opportunity and hope, and the chance to realize his dreams... if he could just survive the internship with Grint and learn enough from his father in his spare time to craft his own armor and sword.
He still hadn't quite figure out how to actually BECOME a squire yet... but one day... when he had... he would become a knight like the legends tell about, and children would hear of his heroic deeds in their night-tales to inspire the dreams of adventures in a whole new generation of knightly aspiration.
Adavan passed by the Carpenter's and saw his friend, the son of Yulan the Carpenter, Birch, out in front of the lumber yard helping to load a cart of planks. He had confirmed the lumber would be ready in the afternoon and Adavan continued onward on his journey. He was happy that the day's plans had so far gone smoothly.
His father would be pleased everything was in order for later.
The new pulley system would help his father do even more work than before and would take care of a lot of the heaviest parts of his craft. His father would be able to move large amounts of ore and ingots around the shop without help and would be able to smelt more efficiently than ever before. The work had been wearing on him for some time now and Adavan would not be there forever to help with the smithy. As the years had passed, the work grew ever more tiresome and his father had devised this pulley system to help with that. It had taken nearly a month to build the framing and the hardware for it all. Tonight, they would finally be able to finish it up and get the system in working order by tomorrow.
It was going to be a very long day.
As Adavan made his way towards the center of town, he passed several houses built close together and several stores of various sorts. He waved at the Baker as he passed the mill and smelled some of the wonderful flowers on display in a fairly upscale boutique that had recently opened after a fairly profitable trade deal had been brokered with his father.
As it were, a well to do noble had seen a sword crafted by his father at court last fall and had made the journey all the way from the capitol to see him. After a few days that the Lord had been in town, he had commissioned the Smithy for the armament of his men at arms and had even asked him to come live somewhere far away in a big house. His father had happily complied to the arrangement of the crafting of armor and weapons for the Lord, but in his own smithy, right here, at home. He had explained it quite easily enough, too.
He told the Lord simply... he had spent his entire life honing his craft right here, in his own smithy, where he had spent his whole existence. If one sword was good enough to make him come all the way out there to hire him, it was good enough to keep coming out to pick up all of the other things he wanted him to make from the town where he had spent his entire life becoming that good at what he had decided to do with himself.
The Lord complied, agreed, and hired him on the spot.
Now... all he had to do was help his father get the pulley system installed and in working order and he would be able to meet the order with time to spare. With any luck, by next year, his father will have men from all over the world looking to apprentice with him and the smithy will become the cornerstone for their small town to truly flourish into a trading hub.
If nothing else, Lord Penderthal will surely be earning some renown for having a craftsman of his father's caliber living in his lands and it definitely gains Adavan some footing to finally realize his dreams of becoming a squire... and then a knight.
As Adavan walked merrily along the road into town, his mind swam with wild dreams of his future and of the glorious things he would do with his life as a knight. The possibilities before him were amazing and wonderful and he wanted so badly to just rush off and be a part of them right now!
Patience...
He had to wait... until the right time... when he had finally finished all of his training and had become not only a master horseman, but at least a passable blacksmith... then... then the world would be opened to him, and his future could truly begin!
Before long, Adavan had come to the Weaver's.
It was a sturdy two-story stone crafted home. The shop was downstairs and Birch's father had made the most beautiful display windows for the front. They were framed in a dark cherry wood and extended from the front of the shop on stilts. As Adavan approached the door, he looked up into the display window and there, putting some fresh flowers on the lapel of a fine blue silk suit, was Emma.
His feet faltered and failed to move.
His mouth suddenly grew dry.
He forgot to breathe.
Then... he realized she was looking right at him.
Her mouth lifted in a friendly smile and he panicked.
Frozen in the moment... unable to think... suddenly wondering if he had been struck dumb.
He had no idea what he should do, or should not do for that matter.
It was as if his entire life had never existed and he was a new born babe... and then, finally, he could control his limbs again!
Without a moment wasted, he darted under the bright blue awning and into the shop trying desperately to untie his innards from the knots they had become as he made a swift beeline for the counter to avoid Emma near the front of the shop.
Fortunately, Emma's mother, one of the finest weavers around, was behind the counter working on an embroidery in a small wooden ring. The golden threads of a giant eagle sparkled and shone on the purest of white silks. Adavan knew this piece was for the Royal Court. He recognized the mark of the crown anywhere.
“Good morn, ma'am. I hope you are well?” he inquired politely.
“Oh, yes my boy... quite well today I think! We have a lot of that to thank your father for, I should say,” she replied with a chipper tone and a broad smile.
“Well, we are all just happy that others are benefiting from the attention of my father's new contract. We hope the increase in business and travel here will help everyone who has been here really make their mark and finally make their dreams come true. We have a great group of craftsmen and artists here and it feels good to finally feel like it wasn't just for nothing.” he says, his words full of hope and humility in equal shares.
“No... what your father's done for us is bigger than all that, but that's kind of you to say, anyhow. Did your mum send you round to make sure about your sister's dress, or did you come by to see Emma today?” she asks knowingly, putting Adavan on the spot as Emma makes her way from the front of the shop through the stands and towards the counter.
“Um... no... I mean yes... I mean... yes I came to make sure about the dress. Will it be done today?” he stammers as his face flushes red and his vision blurs.
“Awwww... yes, deary, the dress is ready. Tell your mum to come round and get it whenever she can,” she says as Emma rounds the counter and disappears into the back room.
“Yes, ma'am... I will. Thank you.” he stammers again before rushing towards the door and flying into the street where he can finally breathe again... and directly into someone walking on the road.
Fruits and loaves of bread go rolling across the road as a basket of food tumble to the ground and an aging woman in a purple shawl and woolen dress slumps to the ground in a heap
“OH NO! I am so sorry!” Adavan exclaims as he rushes to her aid.
He helps her to her feet swiftly and gathers the basket of food as quickly as he can, apologizing profusely about his blunder.
“Adavan. It's fine. I am alright. I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine.” she answers him as he realizes who she is.
“Widow Murlane... I'm terribly sorry for knocking you over. Let me carry these home for you. It's the least I can do.” he apologizes again.
“You have other things to do than walking me to my house. Go... hurry to your father and off to Grint's. I can make due on my own.” she says gruffly.
“Ma'am... I would be saddened if you did not allow me to help you home. My father does not expect me yet and my master will understand the delay, if, in fact, there even is one. Please allow me to do this?” he pleaded solemnly.
“Well... I can hardly refuse you now, can I?” she says as she places her arm into his own and turns towards the center of town.
“I happen to know her mother and father would approve of the union... if you were to approach it, that is.” she says slyly as they walk away from the Weaver's.
“I... um... what? What do you mean by that?” he stammers, surprised by the stark nature in which she spoke about his adoration for Emma and embarrassed that it was commonly known how he found himself dumbstruck in her presence.
“If you were to find the spine son, they would have you as part of their family proudly. Any young girl of betrothal age would be plainly daft to turn down your offer after the windfall of our town at the hands of your father... and you blithely wander through life completely oblivious to your status and renown,” she says to him incredulously, almost in awe of his naivety.
“I don't understand what my father's recent dealings have to do with a parents desire to agree to betrothal. That seems a ridiculous thing to influence the happiness of their daughters, and furthermore...” he started to say completely caught off guard at the very idea of his father's business being anything other than a boon for his town and for his family before the widow shushes him sharply and cuts him off.
“Adavan, you are too young of spirit yet to fathom the precipice you stand upon in this moment. There will come a day when this fantastic image of your future that you have playing whimsical melodies upon your mind is no more and when that day comes and your dreams are no longer the thing at the forefront of your desires, you will see the truth of the future you only dream about. The days of childish adoration and fantastic ideas of things you know nothing about are soon to come to an end... and how you go about dealing with your future from that point on will determine just who it is you are destined to become. Nothing you do today will matter then and you will either choose to rise and meet adversity with honor and courage... or you will fall into cowardice and destroy the dreams you have always believed were your destiny.” the widow tells him as she stops and turns to face him with a piercing glare that cut right to his soul.
“Heed my words Adavan, for they may be the very thing that spurs you to find your destiny in the moment of your greatest test. Fate has a strange way of pulling the strings of our lives and you should be wary of the outcome of hasty decisions. Hurry along now boy. Your father's waiting for his breakfast, and I'm sure the longer you tarry the more chores Grint will add to your list.” she says to the dumbstruck boy over her shoulder as she makes her way up the stairs to her home along the road to town.
Adavan stands there, in the middle of the road, staring blankly at the door to the widows home contemplating the words she spoke so intensely as they kept playing through his mind.
“Nothing you do today will matter then and you will either choose to rise and meet adversity with honor and courage... or you will fall into cowardice and destroy the dreams you have always believed were your destiny.” she had said mysteriously...
“Heed my words Adavan... for they may be the very thing that spurs you to find your destiny in the moment of your greatest test...” Her voice echoed in his mind with each word so filled with foreboding and ominousness.
“Boy! Get out of the way! Are you daft?” a voice yelled at him and startled him back to the world around him.
Adavan spun around just before a mule-drawn cart came through the center of the road into town, narrowly missing him as he awkwardly dove to the side of the road and tumbled into the woman's yard in a heap.
Adavan shook his head side to side and tried to regain his bearings. The man driving the mule with a small leather tether attached to a long stick was cursing at him under his breath as he continued along his way towards the markets at the town center.
Adavan was still reeling from the conversation he had just had with the widow and was not entirely sure that he even understood half of what she had said to him, and was definitely confused about the betrothal thing and why his father had anything to do with it in the first place. They were not a special family and were surely not nobility even six or seven generations removed by any stretch of the imagination.
While his family name was respected here and more recently, farther abroad than it had used to, it still didn't make any sense to him as to what she meant by it all.
Adavan slowly picked himself up from the widow's modest lawn and brushed himself off. He gathered his sack and made way for the town center, finally, with his chores for the morning commute across the town finished.
As he made his way across the square beyond the multi-colored market stalls while vendors set up for the morning of business, he heard a loud crashing noise through the open doors of the forge.
“Blast it all! It's no use even trying to get this right until the pulleys are in place! I'm just wasting iron and time with this!” he father's voice rang out harshly, obviously frustrated with the work at hand.
Adavan slid to a stop in the center of the massive oak doors standing wide open into the heart of the forge. His father was hoisting iron chunks out of the smelter with a sort of gaffing pole he had designed for the task. As they hit the floor, he poured a bucket of water from a trough nearby over each one of them as they sizzled and smoked. He tossed the gaff aside and began gathering them into a crucible for remelting with a stout iron shovel as Adavan cleared his throat from the doorway.
“What's the matter, Father?” he asked inquisitively. His hunger to know more and more about his father's trade was steadfast, and his father appreciated his interest very much.
“This iron is amazing and it will make the finest swords I have ever produced for the Lord and my commission... but I have to get the fires hotter. This ore is special, Adavan...” he says to his son as he carefully inspects a large chunk of the ore from a crate on his workbench. “... and isn't just made up of iron. The ore itself is nearly half titanium, and if I can forge the ingots from these ores... well... the Court has never seen a blade as fine as the one I could make from this. No sword would stand against the blades I plan to make. The Lord's armies would cut through the lines of his enemies with ease... and he would earn great renown and power within the Royal Court. The tales of my swords would travel around the world and others would come then, to make this town of ours a center of commerce and trade. Now... if we can just get this pulley system finished tonight and the new bellows will work tomorrow, I can finally get started on my work.” he explains to his son who is listening intently to every word.
“As soon as I finish at Grint's, I'll come back here straight away so we can get that finished. Birch told me the lumber was ready and they would bring it over today. I'm sure he would come help and so would his dad if we asked them.” Adavan said a little sheepishly.
“No. We can do the work ourselves. No need to bother them late into the night. They have their own affairs to tend to before the festival, just like we do. Besides... the work will be easy enough for us to finish on our own.” he says matter of factly, not liking to ask for help if the need isn't there.
“I know. I just...” Adavan starts before his Father interrupts.
“Not another word about it. The work will be easy enough for us to do when you are done tonight at the stables. Best not to bother them about it. Understood?” he asks directly in the tone that Adavan understood all too well. His Father meant what he said.
“Yes, sir. I brought breakfast...” Adavan was quick to change the subject as he unrolled his sack of food onto the workbench wanting to change his Father's mood as quickly as possible.
“Ah! Now that's a good lad, there. Did you speak to the weaver on your way here this morning?” he asked as they gathered their share of the sack and began to tear into the cheeses and loaves of bread.
“I did.” Adavan manages between chewing. “The dress is ready, so when Mother comes back from the square today she should stop by and pick it up.” he finishes explaining after swallowing a mouthful of cheese.
“Good. Good. Your sister will be very happy to hear that. You should be running along and get off to Grint's. You know how he feels about you being late.” his Father reminds him as he wanders towards the forge studying a diagram he had drawn planning out the bellows and the pulleys he was to install later that day.
Adavan gathered his loaf of bread and what was left of the cheese wheel and hugged his Father quickly before he left to head out to the stables. The sun was hot that day as it climbed into the sky above, and the work was arduous and miserable at times... but eventually, as the sun began to fall from the sky, Adavan finished with his daily chores and the list Master Grint had added for his lateness. He wished Grint and his wife a good night and headed back towards the smithy where he would spend several more hours late into the night finishing the construction on the pulley system before his day would finally be done.
He followed a line of townsfolk into the center of town from all corners of the surrounding lands where they headed home after their toiling day had come to an end. As they wound their way into the town proper and towards the town square, Adavan saw a strange man standing by the roadside beside a cart. He had never seen this man before and while there had been recent newcomers and visitors from far away lands, there was something about THIS man that drew his attention like no other person he had ever met.
The man was lean and fairly tall but was wearing a woven hat that covered his face as Adavan made his way closer and closer. His robes were brown, and obviously well traveled. Beneath them, he had on a rich blue tunic that had faded over a long lifetime of hard use but still held true to it's strong, deep hue. Adavan thought to himself that while his clothes were well worn and faded from time, once, they must have been very fine clothes indeed.
It was odd to him that a farmer hocking wares roadside here, just outside of town, would be dressed in clothes that once would have cost a farmers wages for ten years with no droughts and every penny of his bumper crop for the same span.
As he studied him closer, even more things seemed very out of place about the man and his cart.
At his hip, hidden mostly by a brightly colored scarf slung around his waist as a belt, snuck the quickest peek of a jeweled pommel so intricately crafted that it must have been hand made by a master smith. Adavan knew his blades... and he knew THAT was no farmer's knife.
He watched the man intently as the line of townsfolk passed him by and Adavan moved along with the crowd. Just as he drew near to passing the man, his face lifted and he looked directly into Adavan's eyes.
His eyes were pale blue and striking, like round sheets of ice lit from within by the morning sun. The stare was intense and overwhelming and it felt like a force slamming into his chest as he could feel this man's thoughts poking into his mind... sharp barbs of energy arcing to and fro and finally latching onto his mind as images flashed before his eyes of his memories from the last few days.
After what seemed like an eternity, Adavan could see clearly again as the man's stare continued to bore into his very soul, wanting nothing more than to look away but unable to avert his gaze from the man.
“Go home and forget that you were rudely staring at me, whelp.” the strange words echoed in his mind in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
After a moment, Adavan realized he was walking along the road again and turned to look at the man again... but he was gone.
The cart, the donkey, and the icy-eyed man had vanished as if they were never there.
Adavan looked down the road towards town and then back again, his wonderment at the disappearing act growing with each time he turned his head.
His mind raced with the possibilities. Fanciful images of adventure sprouted in his mind and from there, Adavan was lost to the world of his whimsical mindscape.
Eventually, Adavan reached the smithy and after several long hours of work, the pulley system and the new bellows were fully installed and functional. He and his father cleaned up the shop and closed the doors down for the night before heading home.
The day had been a very long one, but all night, Adavan's mind had swam with fantastic ideas about the man with icy eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about the terror and exhilaration of it all. It lit his mind on fire and it spread to every corner of his fantasies by the time the work was finally done for the day.
He should have been exhausted, but instead, his mind was moving a mile a minute.
As he turned to follow his father across the square towards home, there, in front of the Inn across the way, stood the man with the icy eyes and now, he was not alone. Huddle with him was what Adavan truly believed to be just a legend prior to this moment and a giant of a stony skinned man.
Astonished, Adavan froze in his tracks and just stared at the trio of odd characters just standing in the town square. He had never before seen anything like it and he wasn't the only one taking more than a moment to process the sight before him.
Adavan had heard tales of the Cat-folk of the Eastern Forests, but he had serious doubts about their validity... until now.
The pointed ears standing up from the sides of the tan and gray mottled fur of the leather armored cat folk were tufted with long strands of hair, and a tail tipped with white twitched side to side sticking out from the backside of the armored breaches. The sight of the creature thought to be merely a story aside, their companion was equally as astonishing.
He stood nearly seven and a half feet tall, his gray skin mottled and taut across his massive frame. His features were rigid angles, nearly chiseled it seemed from this distance, from living stone. Draped across his broad shoulders and clasped in the front with a massive golden emblem of Pelor, the Lord of Light, was a road weary tabard of the Order of the Light, and immediately, Adavan knew that this giant from some other realm was a Radiant Servant of Pelor.
He had learned about the Order from a knight who had visited not many months ago.
He sat in the Inn listening to the tales of the old knight for nearly the entire evening. They were all fascinating and filled his mind with new adventures for weeks after the knight had left.
One of his favorites the Knight had told was about the Order of Light, and how their purpose was to drive away the legions of undead and the foul demons and devils from other worlds and to protect mankind from the vile forces of evil at work across the far reaches of the planes.
He would recognize that emblem anywhere.
Intrigued beyond control, Adavan stood there staring once more at the icy-eyed man and his exotic companions from lands he had never imagined even existed.
“Adavan! Come on, son. Mind your own business and let's get going towards home. I'm hungry, and tomorrow is another long day for the both of us.” his Father remarks to him gruffly, reminding him of his manners and snapping him back to reality once more.
The entire trip home, Adavan marched along in silence. His mind sprang to life with millions of ideas after seeing the truly amazing sights that he had seen in his town tonight. During dinner, he barely ate a bite, his mind occupied with imaginings of wondrous varieties. Finally, even when he went to bed, sleep would not find him for the adventures playing out in his brain even after the day he had and the work that had been done.
Eventually, restlessness won him over and curiosity drove him from his bed. He tossed on a clean woolen tunic and leather breeches and crept silently through the door and out into the night unheard and unseen.
Adavan's heart raced as he made his way swiftly down the darkened road into town. His mind was scattered in a million different directions, and honestly, he had no idea what he thought he was doing. What? Was he just going to just walk into the Inn in the middle of the night and see if they were in the commons room? Was he going to inquire with the Innkeeper as to the man's guests? He had no idea what he even expected... but he couldn't just lay there while his mind concocted untold stories about these adventurers who he may never see again after tonight.
He just couldn't do it.
Finally, after the journey along the darkened road into town, Adavan approached the Inn trying his best to be inconspicuous... in the town's square... in the middle of the night... outside of the Inn... just minding his own business, of course.
As he approached the Inn, he stood on his tiptoes and peered over the edge of the windows into the commons room. There, sitting at a table was the icy eyed man and a shirtless man covered in a riot of colorful pictures and scenes etched into his skin in a diagram of scenery and animal and symbols of stylized runes and magic inscriptions.
As he turned to head towards the doors of the inn, there before him, silently snarling at him, stands a massive, shaggy-maned dire lion, his yellow eyes fixed on his own and his legs coiled to spring at the slightest hint of movement by his prey.
In a panic, Adavan backs away a step, slowly, holding his hands up in front of him, then another, before running into something solid behind him.
Slowly, keeping the ferocious massive cat in his sights, Adavan turns his head to see what obstacle blocks his path.
As the taunt mottled gray skin and the worn tabard of Pelor come into view, Adavan cranes his neck to look way up at the massive giant behind him, nearly forgetting about the lion poised to pounce at any moment in his sheer terror.
“I wouldn't move if I were you... He looks hungry.” says the giant Servant of the Lord of Light, his voice like stones grinding against one another as he forms the words slowly.
The moment is far too much for Adavan as he slumps to the ground, fainted straight away.
* * *
“I think he's waking up...” the gravely voice of the giant Pelorite drifts to his ears.
Adavan's mind is groggy and scattered. He hears the words, but he doesn't understand them. His mind grasps in vain to put them into some semblance of meaning, but the fog of his recent unconsciousness envelopes his thoughts as he tries to shake the cobwebs and see his surroundings.
“So it seems, he is indeed.” comes the fluid voice of the roadside trader, no longer gruff, but guarded and pensive.
“Who sent you?” the voice of the trader says bluntly, with an authority and confidence of a man who is used to having his questions answered when he asks them.
Adavan groans as he tries to roll over onto his side and pry his eyes open to take in what is happening.
“I said, WHO SENT YOU?” the man's voice boomed in his head as electricity crawled up his spine and lit across his mind like wildfire. The sensation was nothing like Adavan had ever felt before, both exhilarating and excruciating at the same time
Adavan screams out in pain as the electricity crackles across his spongy pink mind and then fades away as Adavan sucks in giant gulps of air and pants as he sputters upon the ground.
“WHO ARE YOU???” the man screams in his mind as the stabbing jolts of electricity arc across his mind once more, his back clenching tightly arching him up off the ground violently, convulsing with the force of the shock.
“My name is Adavan! Please... don't kill me! No one sent me! Please?” Adavan finally shouts at them as the pain subsides and he can open his eyes and see the ragtag group assembled around him.
Terror tears through him and he trembles beneath the weight of it. The massive Servant of Pelor is off to the left, his tabard dingy and worn from years on the road. To the right is the tattooed man from the Inn, and nearby is a man in a brown and green mottled cloak with his hood drawn low over his face. Then, from either side, the low rumble of the growling sends shivers down his spine as he can feel the dire lions breath on his neck. Hot and heavy, stinking of rot and carrion, the fetid stench of it makes his stomach flip and the fear of the lions makes his bladder give way as he soils himself.
The tears well up in his eyes and the man from the roadside cart takes a long step closer and crouches low to get in his face and peer into his very soul. Adavan feels as though he is being judged by the Gods so intense is the man's stare as the first of the tears finally break free and race down his cheeks in a suicidal dive from his chin His lip quivers in the torch-fire and he thinks at any moment, he might actually be dead.
“Why were you watching us at the Inn tonight, boy?” the voice in his head echoes and booms, demanding answers without hesitation.
“I just wanted to see you... That was all! I couldn't sleep thinking about you... and... and I snuck out of th...” he stammers before the man with the icy eyes waves his hand across Adavan's face and the boy falls back against the ground, snoring softly in an instant.
* * *
It was hard to tell if it was the smell of smoke or the thunderous boom that woke him first... but Adavan found himself laying sprawled unceremoniously across the hard ground of the forest near his town. The acrid air burned his nose and he soon began coughing violently as he looked around to find the source of the smoke.
There, in the direction of town and through the trees, was a bright red and yellow glow, flickering and dancing in the darkness beyond. Adavan knew, his limbs frozen in place as his mind screamed to move.
The horror of it just wouldn't register and he denied it to himself. He tried to somehow logic out another explanation, but deep down he knew.
“No...” he whispered to himself, alone in the darkened wood.
Finally, his body moving of its own volition as the shock of it all still clouds his thoughts, he leaps to his feet and races towards town as fast as his leg will carry him.
Thud...
Thud...
Thud...
His feet hit the dirt hard and fast, his arms churning at his sides as he goes. His breath comes swiftly, but still, he presses on and flies through the dark towards the horizon of trees before him. After what seems like an eternity, Adavan comes to the ridge line overlooking the town and freezes right there in mid stride as he takes in the carnage below.
The flames danced high above the thatched roof houses and stonework buildings of the craftsmen near the town square. The Inn had been demolished and chunks of its timber framing stuck out at odd angles like the skeleton of some massive beast that had been ripped apart and left to drown in its own blood.
The air catches in his throat as he gasps for breath, winded after the sprint and he collapses on the ridge there, looking out over the valley below. All around the rubble that was once town square dances a ring of grotesque little man-like creatures with leathery wings and curved, gleaming claws at the tip of each sinewy finger. Their feral eyes and slavering, toothy maws are wide in evil grins as their long forked tongues dart to and fro.
Hovering above the town, held aloft by massive bony framed wings stretched wide with creaking skin as they flap slowly high above, is a giant bony and charred skinned monster with glowing red eyes streaming flames from the sides as if pouring hellfire itself from the Abyss. It's horned jaws worked open and closed as thick strings of corrosive spittle seeped between dagger-like teeth and fell upon the ground, bubbling and steaming as it melted anything it touched away as if it never were. It's massive horns grew from its forehead and curled around in wide spirals until they tapered to blackened, razor sharp tips.
“Where are you, Lightbringer! The Dark Lord of the Brothers wants your head, and I mean to give it to him!” it bellows above the town as the words grind and tumble awkwardly from its demonic mouth.
From the corner of his eye, a flash of movement catches Adavan's attention and as he turns, he sees Birch with his father and two of the other townspeople sneak around a building heading towards the edge of town and the safety of the forest beyond.
In a moment, Adavan was off, skirting through the treeline and down the ridge overlooking the town. Running as fast as he could, he moved around the forest perimeter headed towards his friend and the townsfolk with him hoping to intercept them before they made it too far away. He needed to know if they had seen his family... and he hoped they were still alive.
He wasn't going to leave without them if he could help it, and the Gods help those twisted abominations of hellfire if he couldn't.
“Lightbringer! This is your last chance to come out and face your fate... or others will pay for your insolence with their lives! My Dark Lord commands your head... now come out here and give it to me, vermin!” the coarsely grating words fall gracelessly from the toothy maw high above the town, echoing hollowly off of the rubble of stone and wood below.
Adavan slowed and turned his shoulders towards the town to see what was happening, and in the moment... he wished he hadn't.
As he looked out over the valley, he saw the behemoth monster hovering above what was left of the town... and then he saw the monster grin the vilest, most malicious grin he had ever seen before it raised its arms up over its head and began to conjure what appeared to be a pinpoint of reddish light floating between his massive, clawed fingers.
“I warned you, Lightbringer! Their blood is on your hands!” the demon bellows once more before the red pinpoint of light blossomed between its palms and swirls into being at his command. The fiery cloud of shadow and flames undulates in its grasp, swirling and writhing inside of the sphere floating within the monster's barbed talons. With a thunderous roar, the beast hurls the ball of darkness and flame towards the edge of the town square as it crackles and hisses along its course. The sphere whizzes past the rubble of the first buildings and weaves its way through the debris-riddled streets before streaking through an alleyway and blowing three wood and thatch houses right off of their foundations. Splinters and smoldering bits of hay explode outwards in all directions as a body flies through the air and smashes into a nearby tree, snapping the man's back on impact as his body wraps around the trunk backward and he slumps to the ground in a heap.
All too swiftly, Adavan realizes that the body was Birch's father, the Carpenter.
A guttural, primal cry of anguish rips through the night as Birch screams out from the rubble of the blast.
Adavan, no longer concerned with hiding in the woods while these monsters destroy his town and kill his friends, breaks from the tree line and heads directly towards the blast, hoping that Birch was still able to flee. Tears streak down his face as he races across the distance between the forest and the edge of the town, anger and fury interlaced with sorrow and fear pour through his entire body as the adrenaline drives him forward long after he should have collapsed.
So focused on getting to Birch was Adavan that he didn't notice the small pack of demons rounding the remains of a house on the edge of town before it was too late. Before he knew it, the monsters had surrounded him as their eyes glint red and yellow in the firelight and the slobbering jaws drip thick ropes of vile saliva onto the ground as they close in on him.
“...you will either choose to rise and meet adversity with honor and courage... or you will fall into cowardice and destroy the dreams you have always believed were your destiny.” the words of the widow float through his mind as he looks around him and realizes his danger.
In the flash of an instant, the tear-filled eyes of the boy Adavan was just hours ago glaze over, he blinks slowly once, twice, then a third time, and as his eyes open that third time, no longer are they the bloodshot eyes of a terrified child... but steely and filled with rage.
Adavan crouches low and draws a long boot knife from the soft leather boot of his right foot and rises to his feet once more, almost regally, his sudden bearing and resolve shocking even to himself as he stares down the monster to his right, then his left as he instinctively salutes them by bringing the hilt to his forehead before lunging to his left and plunging the blade in through the hollow above the beasts collar and into the muscular base of its neck.
With a twist of the long knife deep inside the creature's neck, Adavan kicks the monster away as it gurgles and gushes it's steaming putrid blood into the ground at his feet before turning to his right and diving headlong towards the next one.
In a frenzy of slashes and gore, Adavan slices into the monsters surging all around him and one after another, the pack of feral minions falls before his rage. Before long, the sounds of battle have drawn more attention and another wave of demons begins their surge into the alleyway nearby and towards him, but Adavan sees them coming and with a hop over a low wall and short sprint across a field, is off once more in the direction of his friend not far away from the debris of the terrifying ordeal his town had endured this night.
“Birch! Birch! Where are you?” he screams into the pile of broken homes and what amounts to little more than gravel piles and splintered wood now.
“Adavan?” the voice of Birch floats over a pile of rocks and a large roof beam weakly, but enough for Adavan to hear him and scramble over the pile, to see Birch there, pinned under the other end of the roof beam with blood draining from his ears and nose and mouth in crimson rivers. One of his legs in mangled beneath the beam, and deep, dark red blood pools beneath him.
“Birch! I'm coming!” he shouts at him over the noise of the fire of the ranks of demonic troops flooding into the town from the forest.
“Too late for all that now, Adavan,” Birch says sarcastically as he smiles up at him, the dark red of the blood washed across his teeth as a bubble wells up from his lips and bursts in a spray of crimson droplets as he chuckles to himself.
“Way to go out, huh, Adavan? At least it would make a great story if there were a bard around to see it!” he gurgles as he drips blood onto his chest and the pool below him gets bigger by the moment.
“Stop it,” Adavan admonishes him”... right now you just shut up and help me get this beam off of you!” he screams at him, angry that he could joke about his own death like that, and struggle to keep it together himself.
“Awwww buddy... don't worry about me. I'm not going to make it. I know...” he starts before Adavan grabs him by the face and pulls his gaze to his own.
“I am not going to let you die here, so you just shut up and help me!” he yells.
Birch smiles at him with his blood stained teeth gleaming in the firelight.
“I think they might have something to say about that.” he says to him as he points over his shoulder.
Adavan looks over his shoulder and sees the pack of demons making their way across the field not far from them, their eyes gleaming at them, hungry and vile.
Birch grabs Adavan long dagger from his grasp and shoves him towards the town.
“Go you fool... find your family. I'll hold em off as long as I can to buy you some time, but it won't be much!” he says to his boyhood friend.
“No, Birch! I'm going to get you out of here! You're the fool if you think otherwise!” he shouts at him as he tries to shove the beam free to no avail.
“Adavan... you can't move it! I'm not going to make it out, but you still can! Go! Now! Before it's too late!” he shouts back, pleading with him to just save himself.
“Birch... I...” Adavan starts before Birch holds his hand up to his mouth to shut him up.
“Just go. I love you, Brother, but you have to go... NOW!” he says again as he shoves him once more towards the town.
“I love you too, Birch. I'm sorry I...” he blubbers, his resolve failing as he watches his friends life ebb slowly away.
“Will you just get the hell out of here! I can't be a hero if you don't go so I can save you, alright? Get your family to safety, and then make these bastards pay for what they did here. Don't let me die in vain!” he says as Adavan finally turns to leave.
He looks back over his shoulder once, as he reaches a low wall on the other side of the ruined estate.
“Come on you ugly little beholder treats! I got your damned fate right over here!” Birch shouts taunting the demons out of their path towards Adavan and shifting their interest to him for the moment.
“I will, Brother. I will avenge us all!” Adavan whispers to himself as he hops the wall and disappears into the night.
* * *
As Adavan cautiously picked his way through the ruined streets of the town he had called home his entire life, the acrid smoke billowed through the darkness as the flickering orange glow licked at the night sky and cast frightening shadows into the darkened woods beyond the village. The boy crept through alleyways lined with rubble and splinters of wood, partially blasted buildings dotting the roadway on either side between the massive craters of the explosive fires of the demon hordes that had filled the night with terrified screams and the stink of the countless cremated bodies intermingled with sulfur and brimstone in a sickening haze that hung in the air and burned in his nostrils.
What in all the God's names is happening? Did that man and his companions do this? Why are all of these monsters destroying our town?
Adavan continues on across the blasted plots of land and piles of debris pock marking the remains of the town that had once been the homes of the men and women he had known all of his life. He took care not to fall in the detritus and to keep a keen eye out for more of those monstrous things roaming about looking for survivors. He pressed on as swiftly as he could for the caution he took and wanted desperately to make it to his home before the demons did.
He hoped he could anyway.
He hoped his family had at least gotten to safety and that he could find them, alive and well.
He didn't know what he would do without them... or what he would do to avenge them.
Finally, as Adavan came around a ruined farm house that used to be his neighbor's, he saw the house... or what was left of it.
The upper story had collapsed entirely onto the bottom floor. Stones and shards of shattered beams lay scattered about what used to be his front yard, now scorched and blackened in the aftermath of what had happened here.
Then, he noticed him.
His father lay at the foot of the stairs into the house. His chest had been flayed open brutally, and one of his arms was mangled and bleeding profusely. Streaks of crimson ran down his face from his nose and mouth, and bubbles of blood formed domes on his lips as he opened and closed his mouth before popping in a gory sprinkle of red flecks across his marred and filthy face.
Nearby, lay his sword... the jeweled hilt and pommel caked in mud and grime and the once gleaming blade was black and sooty.
Adavan rushed across the debris filled space between them and knelt hurriedly at his side.
“Father... hang on Father! I'm going to get you some help. I need to find mother and Gabriella and we need to get into the forest. You have t...” he pleaded before his Father finally put his feeble, shaking hand up to his stuttering, frantic lips to quiet him.
“You have to... have to run, my son. You have to... to get away.” he sputters and gurgles around the words as the blood trickles down his chin and onto his chest.
“NO! I will not run. I will get mother and Gab...” he protests adamantly before his Father again places his weakening fingers up to his mouth.
“No Adavan... you must... must run. Save... save...” he struggles to finish before he gurgles his last few words and falls limp in Adavan's arms.
“FATHER!!!” Adavan screams as he shakes his father by the shoulders rapidly. Panic stricken, he cries out to his Father.
“Father... no...” he whispers to himself as he slumps there on his steps holding his Father's ravaged body in his lap as the tears stream down his face openly.
Then, as he clutches at his Father, sobbing uncontrollably, the tinkling of chains can be heard from inside what remained of their home. A moment later, the door frame and heavy wooden door explode in a shower of splinters raining down on the boy and his Father.
There, standing in the splintered doorway stands a monster wrapped head to toe in a slithering, writhing mass of living chains. Links and bits of razor sharp metal intertwined around the creature's body as it slithered across his frame like snakes in a breeding pit as its visage cracks open in a vicious and bloodthirsty smile revealing it's maw of jagged pointy teeth.
“Ah... and here I thought I was all out of toys at this end of town.” the creature's voice rose in delight with the sound of tinkling coins and shards of iron.
As the monster stepped through the doorway, Adavan rolled away from his Father's body and grasped the hilt of his Father's blade firmly in his hand. The boy rolled through and sprang to his feet, anger and rage building inside of him as he held firm the sword of his Father and he brings the hilt to his forehead in the direction of his Father at the foot of the stairs not far away.
“This is for my family!” Adavan shouts at the chain wrapped thing as it chuckled at him in a metallic chortle that sounds almost like a bowl of razor blades being swirled around and around.
As Adavan set his foot to lunge towards the metallic nightmare, from his right and left suddenly springs blade tipped chains bristling with spikes plunging towards him swiftly. Adavan ducks backward under the first and parries the second with hardly a moment to spare, before spinning towards the first serpent-like chain striking it a solid blow as it redirects itself in mid air and turns to come around on him again.
As his Father's blade collides with the demonic chain, a loud booming clap, like thunder, fills the air, and the jewels in the hilt flash a bright white from deep within before the brilliance flashes up the blade in a bright pulse and shatters the metal as links of the chain fly off in all directions.
“Well, well, well! What do we have here?” the demon chuckles the metallic laugh again as he takes two more steps slowly away from the house and makes his way down the staircase towards him.
“Whelp... you dare to threaten me with Holy Radiance? I have cut down Knights who are far better than you in every way, and today will be no different! I may enjoy the taste of you more, though... I always did prefer the feisty ones... but die you shall!” the demons words ring of clinking coins and steel bits shaken inside a bag.
“No demon... today it will be you will face your mortality,” Adavan growls at it calmly as he grits his teeth and raises the sword back to his forehead in salute. As he touches the gem of the crossguard to his forehead, a cascade of bright white light spills forth from within it and pours down over the boy, glowing brighter and brighter as if he were surrounded by puffy white clouds as the sun breaks over the horizon to begin a new day.
“Today... is the day we take a stand against you, foul kyton. Today is the Dawn of a brighter way... not the coming of the Darkness!” a disembodied voice boomed from within Adavan that was not his own.
The boy's eyes fog over and coalesced into a swirling cloudy mass lit from within by the light of a thousand suns as his skin cracks and breaks apart, a shining golden form beneath emerging as the chunks of his former self melt away into the air and a new Adavan emerges, perfect and terrible in its presence. The very sky above parts then, as the sun shines down through the darkness of the night and the acrid smog of the burning town floats all around.
There, in the center of the cylinder of glittering sunlight, stands a golden avatar of the God Pelor himself. Adavan, in his most glorious form, filled with the power of the God of Light with a blade of pure white energy in his hand and the essence of a Deity of pure light and love flowing through him like a spigot with no barrier to slow it down leveled his gaze at the demon.
Adavan raises the sword above his head then, whirling it in the air with one hand as the glowing light turns into a pulse of pure energy throbbing all around him with each wide swing of the blade.
As the very air around him crackles with pulsing white light and streaks of electricity swirling past, Adavan levels the blade towards the chain wrapped demon as it stars at him in horror, realizing its fate, just as Adavan had promised.
The sword pulses once more, and then a beam of light shoots out from the blade tip and tears through the kyton as if he wasn't even there. The rending of the chains echoes inside the typhoon of power that has engulfed them, and the snapping of the links of the chains sends metal shrapnel flying off in all directions as the demon is torn asunder and destroyed by the power of the God of Light.
As the last remnants of the chain monster are ripped apart and vanish into oblivion by the bright white light and the screams of the creature have died down, the pulsing light grows fainter and fainter before blinking out entirely and leaving Adavan slumped in a heap on the ground next to his father, the raw power of a true God having ravaged his body and left him spent entirely.
* * *