The Twelve

Chapter 1

Legends once said that there once were Twelve who roamed the Kingdoms. Among all the heroes and heroines, the Twelve were the most special. This very Legend was never written. Not in books, or scrolls, or even papers. No, this Legend was dreamt; dreamt by those who wished to know.

The times of war are still on us. The keeper of this secret lives somewhere, hidden.

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Jake POV

"Hurry, hurry!" Gran Ma hissed, as I push this dreadfully heavy chest with all my might into our tenth shelter for the day.

"Can't we just abandon this stupid chest?" I groaned, pulling the thorny bush to block our entrance.

"Aiiiii......this fool!" she hissed, hitting me on the head with her stick.

"Throw that chest away and you'll see. "She glared at me.

Gran Ma and I have been hiding like this for the past two years. We have nothing with us. No money or belongings. Just the clothes we wear and this bloody old chest. You would think that a tiny chest large enough for a person to carry is light wouldn't you? But no, this empty chest is actually as heavy as an ancient elephant. Not that I know how heavy an ancient elephant is... I'm just exaggerating a tiny bit.

We're in a life and death situation and she cares more for this chest than me, her only grandson! Heck, even if the whole kingdom falls and we get trapped in a fire, she'll make me save her chest first!

She banged her stick on my head again.

"Be alert, you fool!" she whispered even more softly.

The ground shook for the umpteenth time again as soldiers march through this village.

My stomach squeezed again as I silently groan. Two years in war certainly changed many things. Including what you eat. Being too busy fleeing from the last village, Gran Ma and I haven't eaten a normal meal for three days....

"Hungry..." I whimpered to myself. Sitting in the corner as Gran Ma watched the thorny bush warily, I kept my complaints to myself.

Gran Ma was never so harsh before the war. In fact, I think I took on the war better than her. At least I kept my sense of humour. Dad and Mum went to the frontline and we lost all contact. Our neighbors fled at the first notice and our district was filled with soldiers instead. Business was good then, they came to our bar to have drinks while we get news about the war from them. But everything changed soon after. Being the furthest from the castle and the nearest to the border, it was no surprise when our empty--- well, almost empty----- district took the first blow; and the worst, in my opinion. Our house was set on fire but Gran Ma, my insane Gran Ma, dashed in and came out with this ancient chest that ---bloody hell---- I never saw in my entire life with her. We hid in our bomb shelter and I have since then, become the person in-charge of that chest. The only good it has is when we need to smash doors or sit on it.

"Sir! No villagers here, Sir!" someone shouted right outside our poor shelter of a hut. Gran Ma crouched down low in front of me (and the chest), protective with her frail-looking wooden stick.

"Set tents and get cooking." Another voice ordered. The footsteps went away.

This is bad. We just took shelter here and those bastards march in to camp! What are we going to do! I stare at Gran Ma in panic. She shook her head and put a finger to her lips as she sat down beside me. Her tired eyes seem to catch something interesting and her eyes widened for a moment. After a few seconds, she turned her gaze on me and it lingered for a moment or two before they shoot straight at the door again; where they stayed for quite some time.