Image by Valgerd Kossmann from Pixabay
This story is my response to the first fiction prompt from The Ink Well hive community. The beginning was written by @stormlight24 and sets the scene for an interesting tale of fantasy, magic and mayhem.
I have put their writing in quotation so that you can differentiate between mine, and his work. I hope you enjoy reading...
A Tale of Two Halves
Prompt by @stormlight24
Night fell as I rode into town, the same place where I was taken from so long ago. The calm summer evening awakened memories and emotions that I thought buried deep after the torments I had endured.
I headed straight for the Shining Knight inn, knowing it was the only one in town. After all this time away I felt like a stranger. I couldn’t bear to look down starling street as I rode by quickly, fighting those memories that threatened to break through. That street led to the slum where my house where it all happened. Was it still the same? Some other people probably inhabited it now.
I tied my horse to a tree at the entrance to the inn, and a gruff old man's voice startled me as I filled the horse’s nosebag.
"You’re, alive. I always knew you would come back, Erin ... "
Through the dim light of evening I saw the feeble old man on the porch of the inn leaning on a walking stick. He cried, his sobs shaking his whole body.
''You’ve returned at a terrible time Erin! You should go back from where you came, the city is full of enemy troops. The Milen Empire lost the city years ago.''
''Hey, you there, unbutton your belt and lower the sword to the ground.'' A sharp voice barked from behind him.
“No sudden moves or we’ll stick you full of holes like a pig on market day.”
Continuation by @raj808
I turned slowly arms out wide as the three Caldainians in full plate armor reigned in their warhorses which snorted plumes of hot breath into the cold autumn air.
The slant of these men's eyes indicated they meant business.
"What can I help you with friend," I lowered my arms slowly to undo the clasp of my sword belt.
The lead soldier dropped his spear to my throat in a flash, nicking a tiny spot of blood as it rested against my adam's apple.
"Slowly, friend" he sneered as I unbuckled the belt clasp and my scabbard plopped unceremoniously into the mud.
I felt sick. Gutwrencher the blade that had spilled so much Gretilin blood in defense of the sacred forest lying in the night's slurry. There was nothing to do. Too many of those bastards and that captain would skewer me if I made a move.
The old man looked on. His eyes were rimmed with tears but they held that strange faraway look I'd seen before on the battlefield. Eyes resigned to acts of atrocity.
"Who are you and what is your purpose here in Palamon. Speak quickly man."
I'm just a traveler passing through, I used to live here... in a different time."
Memories of her sweet face hit me like the smell of a summer meadow. Playing 'chase the rat' down these same shit stained streets, I was always the rat and she always caught me. Kissing in the cul de sac behind the bakers and sharing those first fumbled forays beneath each other's clothes. Hot breath, warm flesh, the smell of sweat and that throbbing need in the head.
"I asked you a question man."
The sharp voice shocked me out of my memories.
"What?" I stuttered, unaware of how long I had stood there frozen like a rabbit staring down a snake.
The spear point pressed harder against my throat, forcing me back on my heels.
"I can vouch for him," the old man piped up in a quavering voice. "He is my nephew, I can prove it if you'll just join me in the inn for a pint of ale... on me."
The captain eyed the old man uncertainly before barking a command at one of the troops.
"Hog tie him to the post next to his horse."
My horse looked on as they bound my hands and legs to the stable post. I carefully tested the bonds as they stared down the old man. Useless, if I pulled one way it wrenched my left arm out of its socket, and the other twisted my leg painfully. These assholes knew what they were about.
"Ok old man, lets drink and talk."
The captain sauntered toward the inn before glancing back at me.
Oh, and give our visitor a Caldainian handshake."
A fist flashed in the peripheral of my vision sparking flashes of fire through my temples. Laughter echoed through the blackness and faded into a starry night.
Darkness, slime, the smell of piss and a niggling pain in my big toe coaxed me into consciousness. I opened an eye crusted with blood, the cracked eyelid shooting hot lances of pain through my forehead.
I twitched and the rat darted away into the darkness. 'Chase the rat', I laughed and then retched as my throat rebelled from the bite of the putrid air.
I looked around me. The dank cell was like any other, wet straw matted the floor and a small barred window winked grey in the gloom. My eyes rebelled at the dirty wash of light.
How long had I been out? It must have been a while.
I pushed myself up on my elbows. Every muscle screaming in protest as I staggered toward the window to get my barrings. My bare chest was a chess board of bruises, and the long welt of a flail seemed seared from collar bone to navel.
Fuck, they have really done a number on me. Sick bastards. Beating a man when he's out cold.
I stared out of the window into the cold light of dawn. The city of Palamon stretched out before me. The gilded houses of the merchants quarter marched down cobbled streets like soldiers, while on the other side of the river Ooesse the hovels of Scragrow, Beggarsrift and Cocklegrain street were a brown smear, fading into the distance. The river a battle line with an occasional bridge joining the opposing sides.
This place had always been a tale of two halves. A border town caught between two warring empires. It seemed the Caldainians had won while he had been away from the world.
I stared up at the sky. A thin rain began to fall, quickly building into a torrent. Cupping my hands I stretched out to catch the water - manna from the spirits. Thunder shook the town as black clouds descended, casting their shadows over Palamon like angry giants from ancient fables.
I drank and felt the energy building.
The morning chatter of birds grew silent. A lone squirrel twitched its tail as clouds gathered over the forest.
Shieleth gazed up at the angry clatter of the canopy and leaned against a hoary oak placing one slender hand to her ear to listened to the dryads whispering.
Rain falls,
the hills proclaim
the name of Miraliam
and the goddesses blessed.
Erin Erin, the grass moans,
drink waters inflamed
with Alaman's bones.
The rain's squall
murmurs of gathering rage
and the sky god's fall.
Shieleth had heard enough. The elf gave a sharp whistle.
"Elinair where do you reside in the morning's mellow chorus?" She sprinted through the bracken, weaving through trees that leaned in to watch the elf's mad dash. She mounted an ancient path slick with moss, as sure footed and lithe as a forest panther.
Finally she crested the hill and scanned Greenfolk forest laid out below her. All the trees were still now, not a branch moved and she could hear the dryads weeping just at the edge of hearing.
She let out a loud whistle again and cried with the might of magic drawn from the roots of Greenfolk forest, "Elinair my steed, bare me in the name of Miraliam."
A piercing whinny echoed across the forest as all the leaves in the canopy shivered with the noise of that call.
"Come my friend," Shieleth sighed as she saw the white streak weaving between the trees below.
The unicorn leaped the twenty feet from the foot of the hill to land prancing in front of her and she stepped forward tentatively to stroke its muzzle. "We ride now to aid Erin the blessed guardian of Greenfolk forest."
Elinair dipped its head gently pressing it's horn into Shieleth's hand and with a divine strength swung her up to its back and reared once prancing its hoofs against the soft dew kissed grass of elfstone hill.
"On to the town of men," Shieleth whooped, blood boiling with the thought of battle.
The world around her blurred. The mottled russet of bark flashed by as the whistling wind blew through her hair. Bright green leaves smiled a thousand triumphs in a sudden sunburst from a break in the clouds.
I drank of the water. The thunder building with each swallow and suddenly I knew what to do. The magic's pattern sinking into my mind as the thunder morphed into a heartbeat inside my chest.
Wounds healed, aches fled like a swallow in the first threads of summer's awakening. Power filled me as I continued to drink then spoke the words imparted to me by Alaman lord of the sky.
Roots run deep,
that no stone can keep
from finding the source
the course of all water.
I let the water trickle from my hands down the wall of the keep.
All was shining now in the rapture of the magic's mania. The lord of the sky appeared in one of the clouds smiling down at me as the rain battered my upturned face, washing me clean of the cell's filth. A second incantation came to me then, rising in me as if from my stomach.
Roots follow paths
along crannies and cracks
causing stone's decay
and foundations to fray
until at last man's
blight on the land
is blown away.
The trees at the base of the keep swayed in time with the rhythm of my incantation as I felt the trees meld with me fully. My arms were as wood, solid yet mutable, strong yet flexible.
"Hey, what are you doing scum."
A guard fumbled with the keys to open the cell door, "Shut the hell up... You woke me from my afternoon nap shit for brains. I'm going to flay you alive when I get in there."
I felt my roots flex and watched as they stretched woody fingers from the soil and up the wall of the keep, weaving in and out of cracks, raining mortar with each probe into the stonework.
"What are you doing at the window?" The guard burst into the cell and gawped at this swaying half naked prisoner, who turned to look at him with shining eyes. He swung a club at the base of my neck. It had the same effect as it would have hitting a tree. The club ricocheted back and cracked the guard on the forehead.
He reached for his sword.
I felt the power surge in me and looked back out the window. The roots pulsed through the stone work and I looked to Alaman who was now joined by my blessed mistress Miraliam, goddess of the forests and all things wild. They both nodded.
The guard thrust the sword at my belly. I flexed my muscles and the wall exploded inwards flinging masonry into the cell with a boom that echoed the rolling thunder. I stood immutable like an ancient sycamore, stalwart, calm and unmovable. The guard's sword bending against the teak of my midsection. A huge stone bounced off my chest and bounced into the guard ripping his head from his shoulders. A fountain of blood cascaded from his torso, spinal column writhing back and forth like a decapitated snake. He dropped to the floor.
"Erin," a melodic voice called as I emerged from my trance. I walked to the gaping fissure where the wall of the keep had been. The god and goddesses' faces faded in the cloud as lightening struck the merchant's church of the seven divines setting it aflame in a plume of fire.
Below was the most beautiful woman I have ever known. My soulmate, my Shieleth.
She sat astride the unicorn Elinair. I knew then that the goddess truly had plans this day. Elinair only came from the deeps of the woods in the direst need, and I had only met the mare once before when the Gretilins of Mermerln swamp had amassed to burn the sacred forest of Greenfolk.
"Jump my love."
I walked to the edge and looked down. A final flash of lightening struck the roof of the keep above and I saw the last fading visage of my goddess smiling down at me.
I jumped. The air was soft like a pillow, as a strong wind lifted me outward and down and masonry cascaded all around. I landed softly behind Shieleth and embraced her tightly as the unicorn raced quicksilver through the streets of Palamon.
Shieleth's sword flashed in the mad dash ripping guts open, slashing eyes to blindness. The unicorn weaved and dodged spears with unearthly speed, Shieleth dealing death to any who tried to bar our way.
Suddenly we halted.
An old man sat on the porch of the Shining Knight inn. His eyes were blackened and lip split with a welt across the left side of his face. He stared slack jawed at this vision of legend calmly prancing before him.
"Erin," he stuttered.
"Is that truly you my boy."
I stared at him, this man who seemed familiar, yet completely foreign. Suddenly something surfaced from the deep inky well of memory.
A dark room. My father weeping at a bedside and a swaddled woman, her ivory white face seeming to shine in the gloom of the room. A man's face appeared in my vision, a younger version of this man before me now. He was holding a spinning top urging me to go out into the street to play.
"He is your kin Erin," Shieleth assured me softly touching my arm gently.
A clatter of armor could be heard in the distance and the elf stared with her keen eyes.
"Soldiers approach."
I didn't know what to make of any of this. So long in the forest, so long without any memories other than that of my first love and my father beating me.
"The forest makes you forget Erin. It is the price of the goddesses blessing. Quick, we must be away."
I stared down at this old man, beaten and whipped. Treated like dirt and left to sit in the gutter.
I held out my hand.
"Come uncle. We will go on a journey to a place where there is no pain and the waters of Miraliam heal all sorrow."
He stared up at me.
"A place the Caldainians can't come?" He asked pleadingly.
I laughed as he took my hand and I swung him up behind me.
"We go to Greenfolk forest to visit the elves uncle. A place where dryads dance and the trees protect all who respect Miraliam the earth mother and Alaman the father of the sky. No, the Caldainians can't find you there."
The old man smiled and sighed.
I shed a tear at the sound of that sigh. It echoed all the world's sorrows, finally cast away in a single breath.
The end.
Thank you.
I would like to invite any lovers of poetry and short stories to visit the new hive community I started with @stormlight24 called The Ink Well.
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