the offspring - chapter 1

7/29/2019 The Offspring - Chapter 1

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On the Hunt

Blustering wind marked his approach. He crept through the brushes tiptoe, leaving

behind only a trail of lightly crushed leaves. For quite some time he had stalked his prey, but

now he had finally cornered it. As he approached his destination, a long-dead hollow oak tree,he became anxious. His steps quickened and broke the occasional branch, but the howling

gust concealed his intent. The sun was already nearing the horizon, for only the tops of the

forest were still drenched in light. Now would be his final chance.

He gripped the lowest branch and felt it. The wet, mossy bark seemed troubling, but

he reassured himself the oak would hold. He lifted himself onto the branch, then seamlessly

onto the second one, finally reaching a cavity overlooking his target. He unfolded the sack on

his back, revealing a simple, yet elegant elm bow. He coursed over the curved wooden

surface, bringing up memories of the past. After a moment of silent lament, he loaded the bow

with a single, red-feathered arrow.

Down below, at the base of another dead oak tree, was the prey, a tiny brown rabbit.

For well over two hours he had been chasing the rabbit, slowly closing in. He had destroyed

all of its burrows in the nearby area, forcing it into the open. Now, when the beast finally felt

secure and ready to make another den, he would strike. The rabbit was digging in-between the

oak's roots, occasionally pausing to check for danger. Several meters above, he steadily pulled

the elm bow's string. He was barely holding the arrow back; it wanted to thirst on the

creature's blood. With a swift motion, he let loose the arrow upon the unsuspecting rabbit.

For a fleeting instant, the furry beast turned its head around towards him, as if

suddenly it was faced with the realization of its impending death. He thought that it had

caught onto his scheme. Perhaps it would pounce forward and dodge the arrow, or even more

shamelessly tilt its head and just let the arrow fly by. The rabbit did neither. Death hit it

straight through the left eye and into the neck. The rabbit jerked to one side then fell silentonto the oak's root.

He leapt from branch to branch with animalistic agility, landing onto the soft leaves

below. He was a callous young lad, fifteen years of age, tall, slender and fair-haired. His

gloomy face had retained the charm of boyhood despite the constant hunts and housework he

had suffered. As he approached the dead rabbit, a strong feeling rose up in his stomach. He

despised death, he couldn't stand it, but he knew it was necessary. With great unease he

removed the arrow from the rabbit, and then folded it in his sack along with the bow.

The sun had descended below the horizon; now only the stars lit the boy's way back

home. He trailed along the familiar path, marked by the occasional broken branch. It was a

half-hour journey through the forest back to the road, then another half-hour back to the

village. He was a sole child, no siblings or family members spare his old sick mother. She hadbeen down with a cold for over a month now, so he'd cook her stew or soup every night. He

was quite adept at hunting with the bow and arrow, but did so only out of necessity. The elm

bow he cherished so deeply belonged to his deceased father, who had died during a village

raid many years back.

The trees slowly gave way to the open grasslands that epitomized Anthar. Soon after

the forest stood behind him, the boy reached the old dirt road he had trodden so many times. A

half-dismantled lantern post marked the beginning of the path, which winded downward

across the field. Much of the land around the village was ripe for cultivation, but the few

farmers in the Torn province instead preferred the northern parts, as they were closer to the

Capital and its richly-paying citizens. Somewhere across this fertile grassland was the

memorial the village erected in remembrance of those who fell during the village raid. He


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would visit it once every week and rest the elm bow at his father's grave. Today was one such

day, but the hunt had dragged on for too long and the boy had to return to his mother.

Far away in the distance the dark-blue silhouette of the Sorn Mountains loomed above

the Antharian heartland. Throughout his life, that mountain range had been his world's

horizon. Sorn divided Anthar like an iron curtain, separating the prestige North from the

destitute South. It marked the end of all he had known and loved. Despite the hardships of hisown life and the poverty of his village, he had a strong sense of fondness and patriotism for

his beloved province Torn. He was obsessed with the idea of bringing honor and prosperity to

his village, restoring the shattered family and filling the raging abyss his father's death left

behind. Of course, those were childish ideals, and he would often remind himself not to stray

off the path life had set out for him.

The flutter of wings broke the wind's howling monotony. Several ravens were whirling

around the boy despite the fearsome gusts. He quivered at the thought that they would assail

him, but after a moment they broke off and flew off towards the village. The boy noted how

empty the road was. Even though it was night, it was common to see the occasional merchant

arriving later than planned. The desolate road struck fear within his heart, a cold loneliness he

hadn't felt for many years. He knew he was alone, yet haunting shadows crept along eachside. He felt his pulse rising, the darkness arousing his instincts. His feet were compelled to

run, and so they did. He hastened his pace, but to no avail. The wailing current was

concealing the shadows, but they were still closing in. The boy raced forward with despair,

dashing across the road like a coursing rabbit. His breath diminished, but his body did not

obey the gasping urge.

Up ahead, a faint light marked the outskirts of Salstream. A small torch had been

placed on the hill overlooking the village to tell weary travelers they'd soon reach their goal.

The village itself was in the lowland that followed, but it was wholly obscured. Each muscle

of his body was screaming with pain. The gust conquered the light just as he reached it, yet

that did not stop him from seeing the grisly sight below.

A cataclysm of rock and stone had devoured everything, as though the ground itself

had risen against his home. Around the edges of the village the wooden palisades had sunken

into the depths, making way for a vast gorge splitting across the entirety of Salstream. The

decrepit houses were torn asunder by this abyss, but more freakish were the beings that

poured out of it. Tides of iron-clad soldiers, dark-faced and fierce, marched forward through

the pathway, closely guarded by a flock of ravens above. Occasionally among their ranks

were standard-bearers, raising black flags emblazoning a triad of twisted scorpions.

Several birds strayed from the host to douse the few remaining lights in the village.

Soon the whole of Salstream was plunged into darkness. The birds did not seem to notice him,

neither did the army. An eerie red haze permeated the chasm, granting the soldiers a demonic

visage. Enveloped by this fiendish aura, the very sight of them was anathema to the boy. Hecrumbled onto his feet; a maelstrom of emotions had overcome him. The nightmarish stories

of the village raid his mother used to frighten him with had manifested before him, more

horrendous than his imagination had ever conceived. He clenched his fists with fury, but the

sheer awe of the outlandish army paralyzed his raging emotions. He was deprived of all

reason to live, yet at the same time this lack was filled with burning rage. He wanted to yell

and scream at the invaders, leap at them, tear the bit to bit.

Tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. A cry of fear, anger and hatred

was gathering up within his throat like a storm, waiting to be unleashed. He opened his mouth

to draw the mighty breath, but was interrupted. A mighty hand grabbed him across the waist

and sent him back on his feet. The boy instinctively tried turning to face his assailant, but a

second hand covered up his mouth and forced his face forward. Warm breath surged into hisear and a coarse voice spoke.


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"Are you with them?" whispered the man, his deep strident voice hinting of his

massive stature. The boy mumbled in denial and shook his head.

"I'll let go of you, but promise me you won't scream!" commanded the man. The boy

nodded, and a moment later the man released his grip. Once free, the child retreated a few

steps back and gazed at the indomitable person before him. Vested in a battered darkish-

brown robe, the tall bulky figure stood resolute. His rough, unshaved face looked down uponhim with sympathy.

"Have they seen you?" asked the man abruptly.

"They're all focused and marching, they couldn't have noticed me."

"No, no, I'm not talking about the soldiers. I'm talking about the ravens!" he said as he

pointed upwards.

The boy scanned the heavens; the flock was still looming above the army, unaware of

his presence.

"I think they did a while ago, but they left me and flew back here. But what's that got

to do with anything?"

"They've seen you, then I'll explain later, but we must get out of here, fast!"

The man beckoned the boy to follow and then together they rushed away from villageback towards the forest. They ran without rest, not on the road, but on the open grassland,

straight towards the forest. Once the brushes that dominated the wood's borders appeared,

they dropped on all fours and crawled their way within the shadowy depths. But they were not

alone; throughout their journey the rasping caws of the ravens tracked them remorselessly.

They couldn't see the flock, but they knew it wasn't far behind. However, once the densely

packed oak trees enveloped them, the birds abandoned their chase.

For another half-hour they went through the forest in silence. Despite its mystery and

remoteness, it gave a sense of security that, although fake, was more than the open grasslands

would offer them. At last, the man found what he was looking for: where the canopy was

thickest, there was a slight clearing near an ancient tree's stump. The ravens wouldn't find

them here; they had finally reached a safe haven. The man lay down on the ground and

propped his back against the trunk. The boy followed and sat beside him. From a pocket in his

robe, the man took out a canteen.

"Want some?" he asked, but the boy shook his head in reply. The man popped open the

canteen's cap and drank eagerly from its refreshing contents.

"I'll save some for later," he said. "How far away is the nearest village?"

"It shouldn't be more than a day's walk away."

"Good, then we can reach it by tomorrow."

"But the invaders, won't they overrun the region?" asked the boy.

"It appeared as though they were passing through, killing all witnesses to cover their

tracks, but why I don't know what to make of all this."For a while the two contemplated on their situation, and then the boy broke the

silence.

"What's your name?"

"They call me Kron, but that's merely an alias from the road. I'm not your average

farmer, you see, I wander these lands and learn whatever I can from whoever I find."

"So you're a hermit?" asked the boy firmly.

"Pilgrim would be more accurate," said Kron. "Hermit is a very distasteful. I'm from

the Capital, you see. I've learned to be precise with my words."

"You hail from across the mountains!" exclaimed the boy.

"Yes. I guess for you village people that's a big thing. But having seen the Capital is

nothing special. What bothers me was that those soldiers were marching north straighttowards it."


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"You think they might attack it?"

"They wouldn't be able to with so few people. They'd hardly make it past the outer

walls. No, those Tenasians are planning something else."

"Tenasians?" wondered the boy.

"Yes, Tenasis is the desert nation west of Anthar. They are a divided people, living in

clans that are constantly fighting. This one in particular is planning something sinister.""Like what?"

"Be damned if I knew. Now tell me, what's your name?"

"Nath."

"Short for Nathan?" asked Kron.

"No, Nathaniel."

"Ah, like the prophet. Your folks must be very religious."

"Yes, they were," replied Nath, bringing up painful memories. By accident Kron had

salted a very deep wound; he rued his mistake as tears sprung from Nath's eyes. Kron looked

shamefully at the ground - indeed talking to people wasn't his specialty.

"Is there life after death, Kron?" asked Nath as he wept.

"Our Lord says there is, so there is.""So they're all waiting for me there, in His realm?"

"They're at a better place, child. Do not mourn them, but rejoice at their reunion with

the Maker."

Kron rose up and headed away from the haven. "I'll gather some sticks and branches;

we'll need to get a fire going. You stay here," said Kron and left Nath to his thoughts. Oh,

what a clamor of emotions were warring over his body. He felt helpless against the rising tides

of anger and hatred, convulsing in painful spasms at the mere thought of the horrors the night

had brought. Every so often he'd imagine the flock cawing somewhere in the distance, only to

turn and hear nothing but the howling wind. After a while Kron returned, bearing wood in his

arms. He carefully piled the branches before the fallen trunk and sat down next to Nath. Kron

clasped his hands together and instantly the pile burst into flame.

"You're a wizard!" yelled out Nath.

"I've come by the odd spell or two, nothing special; just enough for me to get by in the

wild."

Kron kept his palms facing the fire, both to keep himself warm, but also to control its

winding flames. His eyes were focused, reflecting the red light with frightening intent.

"Can you put more wood, make it a little bigger?" asked Nath.

"I could, yes, but we mustn't give away our location. Just come closer if you're that

cold. I'd prefer being safe to raising an inferno."

"So the ravens didn't see you because you're a mage," realized Nath.

"Because I'm a mage?" laughed Kron. "Don't be foolish, it takes wit and cunning tofool an animal, not dazzling spells. I'm also not that good at this whole wizardry thing, either.

I'd probably have given myself away if I'd used it."

"Can you control the fire?"

"Of course, it's mine after all. I could make it dance if I wanted."

"Then make it dance!" cheered Nath.

"What, now? I'm tired now; I've been roaming all day. It takes skill and focus to

manipulate the elements. I'm not saying I can't, though. I'll show you some other time. Now

we should rest, tomorrow's journey won't be light. Don't move for a bit."

Kron stood up and swung both his arms high at the canopy. At an instant, a swirling

gust surged upwards from his palm. Just below the crown of the trees the wind stopped rising

and began tearing off the leaves from the lower branches, leaving the protective canopy aboveintact. Kron then guided the air with fancy motions, covering Nath in a warm sheet of leaves.


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"This should get you through the night," said Kron. "I'll keep the fire going for now,

but at some point it'll die out."

"Won't you cover yourself too?"

"No, I've gotten used to the wilderness. Living in the wild makes you tougher than you

look."

"So you said you were born in the Capital?""Yes. Hush now, we'll talk tomorrow."

Kron turned out to be an easy sleeper and soon he was loudly snoring. Although

annoyed, Nath soon learned to ignore the sound, mesmerized by the glowing night-sky. Ever

since he was little, the sky allured him with its enigmatic impeccability. Salstream's priest had

taught him the many constellations and their history, or had tried. Although the stars were

deeply intriguing, Nath knew little more about them past their names. He knew the scholars

and learned people used them as a measurement for time, but had no idea how. Now that he

thought about it, there was so much he didn't know. Like a sea of darkness, the unknown

enveloped his tiny sphere of knowledge from all sides.How poor a villager's life truly is,

contemplated Nath.

He lamented his loss and wondered about his future. Would he become an outcasthermit like Kron? Would he spend the rest of his miserable life wandering the world,

searching for knowledge? The hole in his heart felt wider than ever. Everything he had known

and loved, all of it was broken and trampled upon by the army. It was that anonymous mass of

soldiers that destroyed his life. Rising warmth ran through his body. The abyss left behind his

dead family was suddenly filled with a fiery desire - vengeance. A sense of purpose

overwhelmed him and he couldn't stop himself from grinning widely. Silently, in his mind,

Nath pledged to extract harsh vengeance on each of those wretches.

Sleep brought Nath and Kron little comfort; to them it was a mere necessity that had to

be satisfied. Deep within the forest they thought themselves free from the threat of the

advancing invaders, who had forgotten to cut such a dangerous loose end. But nothing was

beyond the reach of the flock, certainly not a derelict wizard and his young friend.

At the night's zenith the ravens gathered near the forest's edge. The scent of their prey

was still saturating the air; fear was easy to track. Upon their master's command, the birds

soared further into the woods, followed bellow by the true hunters. As they neared their

quarry, they became crazed, cawing at the blood that was to be spilt.

"Can you hear them," whispered Kron.

"Yes," replied Nath as his pulse escalated out of control.

Both remained motionless, hoping for the flock to pass. A single raven landed on a

branch overlooking their camp. For a moment it stared at them with great interest. Then a

fiendish aura consumed it. Its eyes glowed red and it began cawing and flapping its wings.

Black smog emanated from its feathers as it rose to the skies, summoning the rest of the flock.Distant cries echoed; Nath and Kron were on the run.

"These ravens are possessed," yelled the man as he leapt over the brush. "I can feel

their dark energies. Someone is controlling them."

He drew a hidden dagger from underneath his belt and threw it to Nath.

"Take this! I'll try to protect you, but be ready to fight!"

Kron strode forward tirelessly, but Nath began to fall behind. His breath was gone, his

legs were aching. His vision became clouded and his resolve weakened. He felt deep within

his mind the growing fear of death. He glanced behind to his horror. Through the trees dashed

hooded figures, leaving behind the same black trail as the ravens. Their faces were completely

shrouded, spare their glowing red eyes. Nath's fatigue overcame him and he tripped. His right

leg didn't go up as expected, instead it cramped and he fell on his face. His vision was blurred


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by the grass, leaves and dirt in his face, yet he could still see the vague silhouette of Kron

running away.

He closed his eyes and prayed to the Lord. The cawing of the ravens around him

intensified as the fiends approached. He covered his ears to shield himself from these

maddening cries, but to no effect. The sound only became louder, now accompanied by

indiscernible whispers. At first barely audible, the eerie murmur rose to sharp shrieks.Burning pain ran through his body as one of the fiends grabbed him by the shoulder.

Nath cried out in agony and despair, but there was no one in the lonely forest to hear him.

Kron had fled, the damn coward! He had saved his life while Nath was alone, on the verge of

death. Only now did the grim realization of death descend upon him. What chance did a

simpleton like him stand against the invaders? The joy of his escape from the clutches of the

army merely hours ago was all but lost. Now he knew such an oversight on the enemy's part

was impossible.

For a moment his eyes were blinded by golden light. Another cry of pain emerged, but

this one was not his own. The cawing and shrieks ceased. Nath cleared his eyes from the dirt

and looked ahead, to his amazement. A figure bathed in blazing luminescence stood no more

than several feet away. Bright radiance was emanating from throughout the man's body,except his head, which was marked by black curly symbols that moved across his face. Kron

had not abandoned Nath after all.

Kron stepped forward and motioned the boy to stand behind him. Nath's clamp was

gone, as was the burning pain in his shoulder, and he swiftly jumped over to Kron's side. The

scene was illuminated; all the leaves perfectly reflecting the mage's light, giving it a soothing

green hue. Finally Nath could see his assailants.

There were three of them in total: a fourth one lying motionlessly on the grass. All

were men with glowing red eyes dressed in black robes. Their faces were partly shrouded by

their long hoods. Only the man in the middle had his scarred face uncovered. He appeared to

be their leader and was looking at Kron with murderous intent. His head was bald and covered

in mysterious markings. His hood was in his feet, torn and burnt by the surge of light; his

right sleeve was wholly disintegrated, revealing the seared flesh below. In his hands he held a

short-sword engraved with runes similar to those on his head. After watching Kron with

deadly seriousness for several moments he smiled.

"The exile returns!" laughed the leader. "What, you've come to die for your King? Or

are you saving the boy out of past regrets?"

"My actions are my own. You shouldn't have sided with Tenasis," answered Kron.

The leader laughed again then raised his sword at Kron. The runes on his blade and the

markings on his head glowed red once more. The aura of his eyes intensified. His voice

attained a ghost-like echo as he spoke.

"You should not have come."The leader's blade burst into flame. In his other hand he conjured a swirling ball of

pure darkness. The other two men also raised their burning swords.

"Die!" yelled the man and the forest was his voice. The night became dark; Kron's

bright light dwindled to a dim glimmer. The three wizards descended upon Kron. In his hands

appeared a broadsword made of light.

"Run! Save yourself!" yelled Kron as he braced himself for combat. The whole time

Nath had been standing a few steps behind, watching the unfolding events with interest and

confusion. He felt more like a spectator than a combatant. Kron's cry returned him to reality.

With newfound vigor Nath sprinted away from the battle. His mind was with Kron, for

the hermit was his only hope. He glanced at the sky, but it was pitch black. Even the stars had

faded. The flock was nowhere in sight, it had probably remained to feast on Kron's bones.Kron had sacrificed himself so that Nath could live on. For sure the man wanted to warn the


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Monarchy. That's what Nath had to do. But who would believe a simple farm boy foretelling a

rising threat in the South? Even more, if Kron was defeated, what chance would Nath have

outrunning a flock of ravens and their magic-wielding masters. No, Kron's actions were not

sacrificial, they were a desperate gambit. Either both survived or neither.

From the few maps he had seen of the region Nath loosely knew the direction of the

closest village. It was a small hamlet called Midwell, built near a minor coalfield to act as abase for the miners and carriers. Nath had been there only once, three years ago when he

unsuccessfully tried to sell game to a trader from the Capital. His vague memory of the place

depicted it as a trade haven, which it was to a large extent. Coal was an expensive luxury. The

people from the Capital used it to heat their baths and public pools, while it remained

unnecessary for the poorer southerners. Aspiring merchants would often buy off the coal from

the miners in order to sell it with great profit in the North.

Nath's thoughts drifted away from the pain of the present. He was afraid of the dark

and at that point even the ground was shrouded. His heart was racing to keep his legs moving,

but he had long since stopped running, instead tripping through the thicket. To him not

thinking about Kron's fate was defense against madness. In a desperate attempt to soothe his

mind, he recalled one of the few clear memories he had with his father. It was seven, perhapseight years ago, when his father still harvested the family's acre. Nath was very excited about

helping his father at the time, but after his death he had let the acre grow weedy and

abandoned it in favor of the forest.

A worrying thought ran across Nath's mind and he instinctively went for the sack on

his back. To his dismay, the sack was gone, along with the bow and rabbit inside it. It must

have fallen while he was running away from the ravens, or even earlier, when he met Kron.

He knew there was no chance to find it in the darkness so he clenched the dagger Kron had

given him. Although Nath had killed forest animals many times before, he had done so from

far away with his prized bow. Even then he found killing unpleasant. The thought of

murdering another human with a knife was outright repulsive.

The sudden flash of lightning reminded Nath of his severe predicament. For a split

second he saw the landscape. He was descending down a fairly steep river valley. The trees

around him were old, tall and wide; some were dead and rotting. Most of the soil between the

towering oaks was washed away, leaving below only the slippery bedrock. Almost by the

river banks was a particularly ancient tree, which was partly uprooted. It was slanted halfway

towards the other side, standing tilted over the wide river and its deep unnerving waters.

Another burst of lightning, now accompanied by gentle raindrops, illuminated a wide cavity

hidden below the tree's roots.

What was distant thunder merely an hour ago transformed into a mighty storm. Rain

poured over Nath's tired body, saturating his clothes to further wear him down. Now he was

not only tired, but chilled to the bone. He knew he was close to the hollow, but his legs wereunwilling to move. He could no longer feel his limbs. A few steps before reaching his target,

Nath tripped on a blunt stone and fell onto his knees. With great effort he dragged his body

into the hole. It was quite warm and soft within; the place had likely been a creature's den, but

it was now abandoned. The roots covering it protected Nath from the rain and he could finally

allow his tired muscles to rest. He wanted to ignore the present and forget the past and soon

he surrendered to the blissful magic of slumber.

the offspring - chapter 1

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