Stillborn 1 - The Dark Kingdom: Chapter 8

 

8.

A young boy was sitting alone in the middle of a large room, knocking on the stone tile with his black-clawed finger, drifting deep in his thoughts. Small candles were burning on a delicate table made from polished iron, casting dim light across the room, creating deep shadows in the corners. The candles provided all the light he needed, for in Everdeep the light was often unnecessary, even unwanted, as all the Arathans were able to sense thermal light. The red Shine of Tel'Andril seemed bright as the sun in their eyes; the millenniums they had dwelled beneath the surface had changed them into true creatures of the dark.

The boy, however, was only partially an Arathan, but his other half did not need the light either. The natural might of a Gargoyle drove darkness away from his eyes, and only his dimly glowing pupils betrayed him when he was using that might, often without realizing what he was doing.

”I have told you several times not to do that, Aniceth,” Merina's cold voice carried from the door along with an impatient sigh.

”I'm sorry, Aunt Merina!” Aniceth cried anxiously, truly regretting his mistake. Aunt Merina called it cheating, and cheating was not allowed in the House Bel'Derian.

Merina walked by the boy with swift, determined steps, and without a warning she slapped him hard in the face.

”I'm tired of telling you over and over again. Perhaps you need a lashing to remind you about the price of disobedience,” she hissed at the boy's ear.

”No, Aunt Merina,” Aniceth cried out in panic, ”I promise I will never do it again!” The old scabs were still itching on his back, reminding him about the pain.

Merina slapped him in the face again, this time even harder. The sudden violence made the boy's uncontrollable Gargoyle side to naturally react against the threat, and suddenly his eyes were flaming dangerously. Merina knew exactly what the crimson glow meant, and in fact it was the reaction she was purposely trying to provoke. A cruel smile flickered on her lips as she picked up the whip from her belt. Nobody should be fooled by her sigh, for she truly enjoyed of what she was going to do next.

”Come on then, boy. Sooner or later you will have to learn how to control yourself better than this. But until then, you are going to suffer dearly every time you raise your hand against me.”

Aniceth stood no chance against Merina, his physical limitations simply caused him too great of an disadvantage. The Gargoyle in him, however, refused to give up before he was either dead or unconscious. Grinning maliciously, Merina approached the defiant boy, eagerly anticipating to see blood running down on his back once more, to hear him whimper helplessly on the floor like a dirty, disobidient slave, while she would continue beating him until all the cries of pain had ceased.

Sometimes she ordered her servant slaves, Shanna or Brend, to do the lashing while she watched. Shanna did not really care, being actually quite entertained by the boy's suffering, but Brend was different. He had been a warrior in his life before slavery, and he saw great potential in Aniceth. It made him feel disgusted when he had to carry out his master's order, batter a boy who was nowhere near strong enough to defend himself yet.

As the time slipped by, it began to take longer and longer to defeat Aniceth. He was exceptionally tough for being only seven seasons old. Merina would have to come up with some new methods soon or the black Gargoyle claws would tear her apart. She had sworn to herself that if such situation would ever come even close, she would kill the boy without hesitation. So far it had been very amusing for her, but eventually Aniceth would have to pay for his uncontrolled instincts with his life.

Fully aware of Garaz's return in three years, Merina was convinced that he would see the failure of his experiment. Aniceth had been a pleasant toy for her, but now he was becoming too dangerous to be kept around. The mystic would have to agree with her and end this circus by slaying the boy.

Beaten badly this time, Aniceth was barely able to move. It took him days to get back on his feet again after suffering from bleeding lacerations on his back, and all the bruises and wounds from punches and kicks he had received. He cried hopelessly when he was finally forced out of his bed, the chores were not getting done while he was recovering, so finally Merina came to his room and dragged him out of his bed by pulling him across the floor from his hair. Having difficulties to walk, he began his chores in hopes to avoid any further punishments, hiding his tears from his ruthless mistress.

Aniceth did not want this, but every time he was provoked with a threat of violence, something terrible happened. Fully aware of what he was doing during his fury, but without a way for him to stop it. There was this horrid beast somewhere within, and it seemed that fear and panic made it to appear. Feeling scared and confused every time he saw Merina, so terrified of her that he was barely able to speak properly. Primitive fear like that was able to wake the beast by itself, Merina's provocations made it worse.

 

* * *

 

When Aniceth turned ten seasons old, Garaz the Blind kept his promise and returned to Gelendras. The boy had no clue who this man was, and after they had been formally introduced his sudden presence was still a mystery for him. What he did notice rather quickly was that Merina's behavior turned to much more tolerant while he was around. Needless to say he was curious when the mystic approached him later and asked him to follow.

Quietly he led Aniceth to a small room where nobody would disturb them. There the blind man asked the child to sit down on one of the chairs, while he leaned against the window frame, gathering his thoughts for a while before he finally turned his white eyes at the boy,, who found himself very nervous in the presence of this man.

”You don't know me, Aniceth,” Garaz said, smiling lightly. ”You don't know me, but I know you probably better than anyone else in this city. Does that make any sense to you?”

Aniceth shook his head confusedly. ”No, magister, I am sorry,” he added quickly as he remembered that Garaz could not see his gestures.

”Do not be sorry, my dear boy. A day will come when you do not have to apologize yourself anymore.” The old mystic sneered quietly, confusing the boy even further, raising some concerns in his mind.

Usually unclear situations like this led into a beating, and he had worked really hard to make Merina happy, so he could possibly spend his birthday in peace and quiet, but now he was afraid that this old man was going to ruin his plans.

Garaz could not see, but he sensed a change in the boy. He sensed great confusion and fear inside of his heart. Somehow he had to find a way to assure the boy about his intentions before he could have a rational conversation with him.

”Do not fear, Aniceth,” he said softly. ”I am not here to cause you any problems. I am here to give you some answers, something you have well deserved.”

Aniceth's eyes were still suspicious, but also a little curious. ”I would appreciate that very much, magister,” he said shortly, waiting for the mystic to continue.

Garaz seemed amused. ”You may call me Garaz. I am sure that we will become good friends over the years. Now, let me tell you about your past as I am sure you are curious to know who you really are, and why you are here in Gelendras, for this is not the city where you were born.”

Aniceth was still leery and cautious as all promising beginnings had turned into tormenting pain throughout his early years. A few friendly words alone would not make him trust this man, but he listened carefully, for what the mystic promised to reveal to him sounded extremely intriguing.

”I never knew your father, but your mother was a good friend of mine. She was one of the most talented young mystics in the academy. When I met her, she told me that your father had died in a battle against the Darfin invaders at the borders of our kingdom. Your father was dead, but before he died, he gave the gift of life to your mother. Unfortunately, your birth was very difficult, and it ended up costing your mother's life. I knew she wanted you to be safe before anything else, and so I took you and brought you here.. We realized very early that there was something special about you, some kind of power that pulsates from within you, and I believe this beast comes from your father's side. There is a reason to assume that your father was not really an Arathan. In fact, it is very likely that there is Gargoyle blood running in your veins.”

Garaz wanted to reveal as much information as he thought it would be safe for a boy of that age, but he could never tell the entire truth. The longer he had time to learn how to control himself, the better warrior he would become.

”Can you help me to get rid of this beast?” Aniceth asked hopefully, seemingly ignoring the details about his father.

”I am afraid not. After all, it is in your blood,” Garaz said smiling, ”but do not think of it as a misfortune, for this beast gives you an unimaginable power, Aniceth. A great strength that no one else can ever have. Treasure it, practice it, and one day you will learn how to master it. I can assure you that one day you will be the most respected and beloved defender of our kingdom with your great power. One day you will be a celebrated hero of this realm.”

”So far it has only gotten me into trouble,” Aniceth said with a moody voice, remembering all the humiliating punishments he had been through.

”In time you will learn, Aniceth, I promise you that. Together we can find a way to control it. I have been told that in a way you already know this.”

”What do you mean?” Aniceth asked quietly.

”I have heard that this beast stays away for as long as you stay calm and keep your thoughts focused, or have I been misinformed?”

Aniceth sighed. ”No, no you have not. Sometimes it just happens, like when I am really scared.”

”So fear triggers the beast to come forth as well, not just provocative violence,” Garaz wondered. ”That is most interesting.”

”So when can you help me?” Aniceth asked inconsolably.

”You are still too young for me to really help you,” Garaz said, but laid his hand on Aniceth's shoulder as a sign of encouragement. The boy hanged his head, feeling disappointed, but he kept his frustration to himself. His gesture, however, was not ignored by the mystic.

”Ten years ago, when I brought you here, I made sure that you would have private teachers here to help you before you enter Sindh'Morrow, the school for gifted warriors.”

”Private teachers?” Aniceth sounded suspicious again. Whatever plans this mystic had for him could not be any worse than the endless chores under Merina's ever-watchful eyes.

”Your closest slaves, Aniceth,” the mystic revealed. ”Shanna has some knowledge of the secret language and Brend is an old war veteran himself. He fought against the Weavers at the border, but unfortunately, he did something that got him sentenced to enslavement for a minor treason.”

”What did he do to deserve that?”

Garaz chuckled amusedly, deepening Aniceth's confusion.

”You are very curious, young boy, and I am sure such quality will serve you well on your path to greatness, but why not ask that question from Brend himself? Perhaps he decides to unveil his tale for you.”

Aniceth felt embarrassed. He had gone too far with his silly questions, and he was most surprised that the mystic did not remind him about it immediately.

”I am deeply sorry, magister,” he said humbly, waiting for a punishment that never came.

Garaz stopped laughing, but a slight smile remained on his lips.

”Merina has been successful in teaching you discipline, and that will be your most valuable skill ever, so embrace it, Aniceth. I can promise you that it will save your life more than once.”

”I will, magister,” the boy replied firmly. He hated it, but even Aniceth had to admit there was truth in the mystic's words.

An awkward silence took over the room. The mystic seemed to have fallen somewhere deep into his thoughts, lightly snapping the table with his finger. Then he finally spoke again, breaking the silence.

”He was charged for a treason because he showed fear in battle.”

Aniceth was lost once again. ”I do not understand,” he said carefully.

”Brend,” Garaz replied, ”he proved to be a coward in the battle, or that was the official excuse for his enslavement.”

The elder mystic sighed deeply. ” Alright then, may this tale be your reward for the lessons you have mastered so far,” he said, bringing an eager, excited smile on the boy's face.

”What happened?” Aniceth dared to ask, curious about the story. He had always felt there was something special about Brend, for he was the only one who clearly disliked the punishments Merina ordered him to execute.

”His patrol was killed in the dungeons near the Weaver territory, and Brend was the only one who managed to escape. His mistake was the survival. He should have faced the enemy even though there was absolutely no hope for winning the battle, but a good warrior is supposed to die only to fulfill the old code of the Sin'Garath: Never leave the battlefield before your enemy is dead, not even the most desperate one. It is an awful waste of life, but I am not the one to judge our code, Aniceth. It is what it has been for centuries, the code that has helped us to build the foundations of our kingdom here in Everdeep.”

Unable to believe what he had just heard, Aniceth kept his mouth shut, for he knew that further questions could get him in trouble. Stunned by the fact that Brend had not done anything to deserve his fate, the tale was the first lesson for him about the twisted ways this society worked.

”I will have to leave now and return to Arakhnest,” the mystic said. ”We will meet again on your twentieth birthday, then I will tell you more. Learn how to control your anger and your fear, for that is the path to control the beast. It can either serve you or destroy you, so use it! Conquer and subjugate this essence, and it will help you to vanquish all obstacles in your way.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, Garaz walked out leaving Aniceth alone with his thoughts.

He would have a lot to think about.

Aniceth was not sure how much time he spent there just looking out the window and thinking about everything the mystic had said. He knew he should have asked more details about his father, but what would it matter in the end? According to Garaz's words, his father was long gone, and so was his mother. For a moment the boy felt himself completely alone in this dark world that he was afraid his heart would be crushed by the weight of nearly unbearable despair, but somehow he forced himself to stand up. The words of the old mystic had brought him sorrow, but also hope, for the future as a warrior and a respected protector of the kingdom sounded something that was worth fighting for.

The mystic had told him that his father had been, at least partially, a Gargoyle, which bothered him a little. Why would anyone with their sanity intact be purposely seeking company of such beast? Aniceth had no answer, and he had not felt comfortable enough to make a number out of it. Besides, the odds for a truthful answer seemed rather thin, for despite his young age, Aniceth had learned a thing or two about the Arathans and their vague perception of truth and honor.

Unsure if the mystic's presence had anything to do with it, but that night no one disturbed him. It was his first truly free night for as long as he was able to remember, and it felt like a welcome breath of fresh air as he wandered back toward his own room.