"The second afternoon of the fourth month of the thirteenth year of Lord Shehëk Magt's Rule, Record Seven One Five
A farmer was brought in to the Lord of Skavia's judgement room for failure to fulfil his contractual duty to supply the house of Grundä with a year's worth of wheat. In the judgement room his argument was that Ala had howled storms down on his farm, destroying anything of worth. Soldiers were sent to inspect the lands he claimed to own, but found a ruinous, desolate, and abandoned plot upon inspection. All the soldiers agreed that a man could not have lived on this land for at least a hundred years. For his deception of the house of Grundä were given three lashes, for his failure to supply the house of Grundä with the agreed amount of wheat, was given Twelve lashes, one for each month, and the monetary value of twenty gold coins indebted to the Grundä family along with his imprisonment until the debt is repaid."
~ Court records, present day
Erdil
It was so cold, that even the ice giants had to be hiding in their secret caves from the ever falling snow and darned wind, but Emeline braved it without complaint. This wasn't as bad as she'd expected. Oft times she told herself not to cry over leaving her beloved parents, or weep about traveling through the icy weather with the warrior. A thousand times she swore she would not cry out in fear of the darkness and the night, but she cried every day. Only a little. After all, father was not there to see the tears he would have ridiculed roll down her cheeks.
The dawn was her hope when the darkness seemed too close at hand. The sun's rays would touch her back, melting the ice in her bones and making her feel normal again. In the dark of the night, the cool weather and pitch black air would play tricks on her mind. Behind her, her tracks would not show up in the snow, but when she looked back as the sun rose, there would be tracks.
She knew it was silly, but she felt as though the shadows in the night were alive, hunting her, eating her footsteps and her frosty breath. It was ridiculous. Emeline shook her head. Impossible. Her stoic father had always been quick to quench her superstitions.
Still, she had the gnawing sensation that something was awry. 'Why are we traveling at night, Avétk? It's... It's ominous. The shadows are eating my steps!' The last sentence sounded childish even to her ears, but she didn't care.
'There are worse things than shadows waiting for you in Träumenil, I'm told. Remember that bog you were sinking in to?'
Avétk's steady march through the dark night and the icy snow continued without even a pause, his breaths puffing in the air before him. Hers were not puffing. She felt even more afraid as soon as she noticed. Something was very wrong!
'You're gonna have to face these fears of yours, Em. Erdil's a tough plane. There's no place for a lost little girl. No safety either, if you're going alone. Lucky you got me. Some o' your kind got nobody to help them.' Avétk kept walking as he spoke.
'What do you mean, my kind?' Emeline asked. 'Aren't we all human, besides for the Immortals and the Fathers?' She threw her fur and cape off of her auburn hair, shaking it loose. It might have been cold, but sometimes her coat and furs felt as though they trapped her. Suffocated her. She dragged her cold fingers through her hair with her left hand. Ah, yes. That felt better.
'Now that there's a loaded question.' He sniggered. 'For a start, there's all kinds 'a humans. Maybe your kind is the little lost girl kind.'
She rolled her eyes at his obvious, mischievous peering, knowing he was attempting to provoke her.
'But I meant you young, naïve folk, you important people with prophecies and all that.' Gosh, she didn't think of herself as important, but the idea was warm like a little flame on a winter night.
'As for whether we are all humans, I've wondered about that too.' He looked back up the road in a musing sort of way. 'There are tales and myths, you know. About other things that aren't human.'
Curiosity surfaced and began eating at her reasonability, but she fought it. Father forbade tales like these at home. Before a minute had passed, the question she could no longer contain burst from her mouth. 'What tales? Can you tell me some of the myths?'
Why was she so eager to hear these stories, was it because father had forbade them? Maybe it was her superstitious nature getting the better of her. 'Please,' she added as an afterthought.
'Well, let's see.' Avétk tapped his chin. 'I've heard tales of Asrai and Ala - weather and water demons. They're said to materialize from the clouds and the ocean. The air demon Ala causes these almighty storms that destroy whole towns in a huff.'
Their boots crunched and thudded through the snow.
'Asrai sends monstrous, huge waves and floods to the folk living on the coast. Some Wise Men claim they've seen the demons, that they're horrendous. Sharp teeth and all...'
Emeline shivered and Avétk paused to glance at her with a laugh in his eyes. 'But I doubt It.'
'I've heard of Äbädä, forest spirit, famed for being kinder than the water and storm demons. Some say Äbädä is a luscious woman, with green eyes so hypnotizing they can suck out your soul. They say she's kind to humble travellers, but will curse a wicked man. They say-'
'But, Avétk, do you believe any of these stories? Are they only myths?' Something deep inside her stirred, like a long-buried dragon bursting through layers of cold rock.
Avétk sighed. 'I know some legends and myths that are true. I'm not too sure about these demons and spirits though.'
In the silence that followed Emeline heard the breeze whispering and something in the deepest part of her roiling along with it.
When Avétk spoke again, it was with that edge of mystery and intrigue that all great story tellers seem to have. 'Once there was a boy child, who lived in a tiny village on the edge of the Gruwoud.' Fathers, she loved that special lilt in his voice.
'He was young and happy, with bright blue eyes.' Avétk tapped the corner of his own eyes with a smile.
Emeline imagined the little boy and decided he should have chubby cheeks and squishy arms. Cute!
'One day he got lost in the forest. A dark curse came upon him and giving him severe bodily pain. Fathers, it was damn horrid what happened to the boy, hours and hours in the depth of the shadowy forest with nothing but the unending pain and confusion as company. When the little boy returned home, his eyes were black as death.'
Avétk slowed his walk to a stroll, and his face held some secret she could not figure out.
'And yes, death followed him, for since that day he never lost a fight. It was his curse, and his triumph. So evil was the curse, that he killed his own best friend while they were playing.'
Emeline's image of a little ruddy cheeked boy could not fit in with the image she now saw in her mind's eye. A sharp boned, demonic child, whose evil, shrill laughter rang through the darkness, while he stabbed and stabbed his closest friend.
'The villagers recognized the dark curse and banished the boy. The boy insisted that he hadn't meant to kill his friend, and that they'd only been play-acting at a fight. The villagers refused to hear his excuses, knowing the dark curse that had settled on him, so the boy and his mother left the village. The boy became known as a heartless, merciless fighter who never lost. A killer who destroyed anyone in his path.'
Emeline couldn't decide whether she felt pity for the boy, or fury at him for what he had allowed himself to become, and she had the sneaking suspicion she'd heard of this boy before.
'Wherever he went, people feared him, and death loved him.' A pregnant silence followed, and Emeline was almost too wary to ask, but her curiosity was too strong. 'How do you know the legend is true?' She had the sinking feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.
A reluctant look from Avétk followed. 'I...' His shoulders slumped then, and it seemed to her that a huge load of grief was heaped on his shoulders. 'I'm the boy, Em. It was me.'
Emeline's guts twisted into a knot. Whether with compassion or revulsion, she wasn't sure. Probably both. Of course, the Blackblood Cleaver. Even she had heard the whispered conversations about the warrior who could not die, who killed all without mercy. The cursed on who brought blackest death wherever he went.
Avétk turned his face away and stomped on further. She could tell he did not want to talk anymore, and his shoulders were tensed as if he expected her to scream or run. It was probably very hard for him. Emeline knew that she should be a bit more horrified, but she found it hard to be. All she kept thinking was that she had met a legend, she had found a myth that was true.
Oh, she realised she'd stopped walking and jogged after Avétk.
'Avétk!'
He looked away and continued walking, his jaw clenched.
'Please. I'm not upset. Please tell me about the curse. Was it a shadow? Was it... Äbädä?' Her voice held slight awe of the name, and she couldn't help it.
He shook his head, still avoiding eye contact with her. Emeline sighed an exasperated, frustrated huff of air, wracking her brain for a way to get through to him. Mulling over her options, she stumbled upon the perfect solution.
'Avétk, would you like to hear a story? It's a legend about the Donkerwoud near my village.' Fathers, she hoped it would work. He grunted, and she took that to be a yes.
'A long time ago, but some say it's not that long ago really...' No, that didn't sound right. Telling stories was not exactly a strong point in her books. Okay, so it was more of a weak point, a very weak point. Fine, so she sucked at it if she was being honest. Her focus often waned, and her facts often muddled.
'Well, anyway, a time ago, the Donkerwoud was lovely. It was green, with stunning flowers of every kind and shape. Fairies lived in the vast variety of flowers that were scattered through the trees and plants. It was almost magical in its beauty.' she gazed up at the stars as she spoke and remembered Aunt Beth's face. 'Not like it is now.'
'It's said that an Immortal from Götteril, or was it two Immortals, defied the Fathers. They came to Erdil to spread havoc and fulfil their every desire. Some say that the Immortals lay with humans and conceived children. People say they acted out a variety perversions, but opinions on the matter differ.'
A scratching noise sounded from somewhere in the darkness and for a brief moment Emeline's heart thumped louder in her chest. Fathers! She swallowed.
'Nobody knows how the Immortals managed to escape the attention of the Fathers in order to leave Götteril, or how it was that they could move between the planes of existence.'
She looked at Avétk and saw that he now wore an expression of curiosity, eyes eager for more of the tale. 'Do you want me to finish the story?' she asked, even though she knew that he did.
'Mhmm,' he mumbled, and looked away. A giggle bubbled from her. This warrior was so stubborn, but she could see through him. If he was the Blackblood Cleaver, then people had it wrong; Avétk was not so terrifying as all that.
'The Fathers realized what the Immortals were up to. They found them in the Donkerwoud, and an epic battle followed. Nobody knows what happened to the Immortals. My aunt told me that the woods were cursed to be in shadow.' Emeline nodded. 'That is until a brave warrior came and lifted the curse.' Or had it been it a sorcerer? Damn, she couldn't remember.
'I can't remember the other details.' Even though she knew it was dramatic, she pouted. 'I think I missed a bit.' Had she failed in her attempt? It felt like she had, because despondence nipped at her brief spout of courage.
Avétk's huge arm circled around her shoulders, and Emeline felt comforted. 'That was a great story, Em,' he said, looking into her eyes. She felt a blush raise to her cheeks at the unexpected praise, and she smiled.
'Thanks.'
Avétk smiled too, and looked off down the road the way a king looks at his armies. 'I think that one's also got some truth to it. Heard it told in many places. It's got that ring to it I reckon.' Avétk had an expression she couldn't read.
'Yeah, I guess it does.' She shrugged, and they continued down the dark road side by side.
PS
Is there something you suck at? Man up and share it with us. I think the one thing I suck at is sport (I know, that's a big thing - a very broad sectrum, but still) The other is probably knowing when to keep quiet.
© Joy Cronjé 2015