Night Son - Chapter 2

His burning and watering eyes drifted away from his hands to the victim's white throat. There were bruises around the neck, as well as two sets of bleeding puncture marks where the jugular once throbbed with life. His gaze drifted upwards away from the neck and to the person's face. New tears flowed down from his bloodshot eyes as he looked at the frozen white face and a sob escaped his throat. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound passed his lips except another choked cry. He bowed his upper body forwards so that his head was resting on the once lovely ivory floor. His shoulders shook and trembled with his broken sobs, and his tears mixed with the puddle of blood. Again he opened his mouth to say something, and he managed to whisper the words in a strained and weak voice.

“I am sorry...”

As he continued to sob, the haze that was his mind suddenly lifted. His sobs quieted and though the tears finally stopped, he narrowed his eyes. He lifted his head and glared past the body and to the window. The ghastly white light invited itself into the otherwise dark room, and it pooled around him and the body. He glared at the velvet tapestry that was the sky, and at the moon. He gritted his blood stained teeth in anger. His hands clenched tightly. He suddenly threw back his head and screamed. His mouth opened so wide that he feared that his jaw would snap, but he did not care. He let loose his mounting sorrow and rage out in that single scream. He screamed till he could no longer feel his throat and vocal cords, and again sobs raked his body.

So engrossed he was in his sorrow and rage that he almost did not hear the laughter. His sobs nearly drowned out the dreadful noise, but once more he lifted his head and listened. He looked around, but he was the only one breathing in that suddenly horrid room. The laugher continued, and he realized that it was not a physical noise, but a noise inside his head. He clamped his hands over his pointed ears and dipped his head a third time. He curled into a tight ball, trying to shut that cruel laughter out. Still it persisted. The laughter rose, the dreadful noise filling his head and causing his ears to ache.

“Why do you taunt me so?!” he demanded, not realizing that he was screaming the words aloud. “Leave me be!”

There was no answer except the continuing laughter.

Tears rimmed his eyes, but no sound escaped his throat. “I am going insane. I am going insane,” he kept repeating to himself over and over. He came to believe that he was loosing his sanity for the laughter continued. As quickly as the laughter came, it left. There was nothing except his frantically beating heart from the blood he had consumed, his labored gasps, and his strained sobs.

Replacing the laughter came a feather-like lightness. It was as if a heavy burden had been removed from his shoulders. He felt his weary limbs relax and his head clear slightly. He looked up and of course saw nothing. But he felt, he knew, that he was being watched by something. With the sudden lightness came weariness. Whatever had left him had seemed to drain his very energy and soul and left him exhausted. Weary, he collapsed beside the corpse and fell into unconsciousness…

~

Lael bolted upright in his bed with a startled gasp. He looked around at his surroundings, and, seeing where he was, relaxed. He plopped back down on the bed he had been renting with a heavy sigh, and he drew his arm against his sickly pale forehead. For many years dreams had haunted his sleep, and never had he found rest. Every morning was the same, and he long ago had grown weary of the routine.

Staring up at the ceiling, at the rafters arching up above his head, Lael fought to keep the nightmare from crossing his mind. At the edges of his mind, however, he knew it was lying there, waiting for him to drop his guard so that it could close in to taunt him some more. He fought for his heavy eyes to remain open. He reluctantly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed that he had rented the night before. Rotating his head from side to side, Lael ridded himself of the ache that had been there.

As he stretched his neck, he looked around at his surroundings, his face an expressionless white mask. The attic, where the last available bed had been, was very neat and tidy. The only window was facing east, so the light filtered feebly through the woolen curtain. He could see dust and tiny insects dancing in the pale golden shafts of sunlight, and he could see their dark shadows floating in the pool on the polished mahogany floor. Lael could hear underneath him the other patrons breakfasting silently, and a harp was slowly playing to greet the new day. He listened closely, closing his eyes as he surrendered himself to the harp's gentle breathing.

He, though, did not stay to listen to the music for long.

Lael forced himself to stand, forced himself to cloth himself. He pulled on his soft velvet clothe boots, boots most commonly worn by elves. His fingerless gloves, only reaching just past his wrists, were the next to come on. He slowly pulled his long-sleeved black shirt on and over his head, wincing and grimacing at the dull ache in his back. The ache he had for many years that would not leave. Finally he pinned on his light traveling cloak, which he pulled the hood on to hide himself from the patrons below. The cloak, black on the inside and light brown complete with darker speckles on the outside, resembled the little hawk that he had been named after. The tavern and inn keeper was holding onto his weapons for they were not permitted. He knew he would receive his weapons back once he left after his morning meal.

Lael looked around the little bed, searching to see if he had forgotten anything. He tucked in the twisted sheets carefully, checking the surrounding area for something that he might have forgotten. Seeing that there was no further reason for being there, Lael walked silently and softly to the stairs that led to the rooms below. He looked slightly over his shoulder, his sharp swift mind taking note of the room in case he would have to return for any reason.

Walking lightly down the stairs, with his cloak wrapped around him like a silk blanket, he looked up to see the dimly lit hallway yawning in front of him. On both his sides, right across from each other, were the doors leading to the other patrons' quarters. He did not so much as glance at them as he walked past them towards the other end of the hall, and towards the door that led further down into the main room. He heard nothing except for the soft chewing, and the haunting melody of the harp. Again he found himself sinking from reality as the harp whispered lovingly and delicately in his keen ears, his tense muscles relaxing. The nurturing sound sent warmth throughout his body, easing his body into the benevolent warm bed and embracing him in a glorious blanket of harmony and peace. So focused was he in the tender music that he did not see the other patron walking out of his room.

“Watch where yer goin', ye crazy elf!” the other patron bellowed in a loud heavily accented voice. The patron was an older man with goose gray eyes, and he had the temper of a goose.

Lael did not say anything. He merely glanced up, allowing some of the dim lighting to light his face and reveal his set narrow jaw, his stern mouth, and his narrowed eyes. His white face bore no emotion, nor his intent eyes. He made no move to speak, or attack. He merely stood his ground. He remained silent, and watched carefully with focused, narrowed eyes.

The patron shifted his gaze away from Lael's stare, muttering an apology under his breath. Lael could see that the man before him was growing increasingly uncomfortable with his presence. Without saying a word Lael walked past the older man, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye before he averted his gaze once more. He felt the man's stare boring into the center of his back, which in turn made his muscles tense once more in caution.

His sharp ears caught a few whispered words from the older man, and then he heard the shuffling as the patron followed him, giving him a wide berth. Lael felt nothing. He felt no anger, no sorrow, and no glee. He felt nothing except for bitter coldness that had always accompanied him. He hugged his cloak tighter, as if trying to fend off the cold that lingered. It did not help, no matter how hard he wrapped the soft material around him. He knew he could never warm himself.

Lael walked down the second set of stairs, and into the comforting arms of the tavern below. It was surprisingly quiet, despite it being a tavern. The other patrons, families and merchants and travelers, sat at their tables and ate silently. The windows were drawn, revealing the amber colored stained-glass windows. The light flooded the room in brilliant yellow and became pools of molten gold on the polished mahogany floor. The rafters were gently curved arches, and carved into them were runes speaking of peace and harmony and music, and little images of forest creatures and ivy graced and accented the runes. In the far corner were the harp player, a flute player, and a violin player. The harpist was slowly plucking the strings on her instrument, the violinist was softly adding his violin into the atmosphere, and the flute gently and perfectly flitted into the melody. The harpist looked up at Lael when she felt his gaze on her, and she smiled warmly before she turned her attention back to the music.

Lael smiled faintly back, but the smile died as quickly as it was born. He seated himself at the end of the bar, away from the light and in the darkest corner. The tavern owner, a tall and slender raenen with auburn hair, approached him.

“Well, if it is not the silnen from the night before,” the sun elf said happily as she stared at Lael. “Did you sleep well?”

Lael shook his head slowly, avoiding the raenen's hazel eyes. “Unfortunately no. I did not sleep well at all,” he said lowly, the nightmare flitting across his mind briefly before it settled back in its dark corner.

The raenen frowned, her full lips pursing slightly. She listened to his slightly accented voice, to the soft eerie tone. “I am sorry about that. Maybe something to eat will wake you,” she said. “What can I get you this fine morning, sir?”

Lael lifted his head and looked past the raenen, looking at the listed food and drink behind her. He scanned quickly, and he found nothing that caught his attention and interest. “I will just have some water, a bowl of fruit, and some pork. Non salted,” he said finally after a few minutes of staring at the list before he bowed his head again.

The raenen looked at Lael in slight confusion. “You do know that pork not salted will taste bland,” she said as length, slowly as she wrote the list of food on a piece of parchment.

Lael shrugged and remained silent.

The sun elf did not press the matter further when he did not reply, and she turned around so that her back was to him. “If I may ask, how come you are wearing a black long-sleeved shirt in the middle of summer?” the raenen asked, looking over her shoulder to look at him as she placed the water he had asked for next to his hand.

Lael looked at the long-sleeved black shirt he always wore dully. He shrugged once more, and again said nothing. He knew the material he wore was light and soft to the eye, but black still attracted sunlight like moths to a flame. He knew he raised a few eyebrows when he walked in the other night just from the clothes that were on his back.

The raenen frowned and bit her lower lip at his continued silence. She turned back around to continue working on Lael's meal, and he saw her shake her head slowly as she worked. “Well, I will not poke my nose any further. Your business and customs are your own,” she said as length without turning.

Lael said nothing. He took the cup of water in his hand and he swirled the liquid slowly around. He stared at it blankly, stared at the little white speck of foam in the center before he tipped it to his mouth. He swallowed with difficulty, the water tasting foul on his dry tongue. Yet he did not complain. He knew the water was pure and clean as crystal. He downed the drink swiftly, though. He wanted to rid the water so that he did not prolong the cramping pain in his stomach.

Grimacing inwardly he pushed the cup away. He folded his arms on the counter in front of him, and he studied the wood grain in the mahogany wood. The music in the background became a dull low murmur, eventually turning into a buzz that he ignored completely. The soft din of the other patrons faded into nothingness as well as his mind writhed when the nightmare resurfaced to torment him. His hidden eyes screwed shut and his mouth turned into a silent snarl as he fought the evil dream back to its dark depths.

All that was able to distract him was the music from the small group. He focused on the enchanting music, focused on the flitting flute, the sighing violin and the lyrical harp. He steadied his breathing with a soft sigh. He relaxed his eyes, his muscles, and his scarred heart. The music gently enticed him across a carpet of wildflowers to a serene woodland of whispering streams and the sweet voices of nature.

The music took him back to the woodland of his birth, the Silcres Forest. The moon was slowly flying in the velvet diamond encrusted tapestry, lighting the silver and emerald trees with its soft pale light. The very breath of the forest itself seemed to caress the harp's golden strings as the music guided him to the village that he had called home. A fresh, star-dappled village was filled with the sweet songs of birds and the softness of a hidden stream that surrounded and relaxed, that captured the scent of flowers, and carried the tenderness of the wind and all the joys of nature. The lyrical pulse drew him deeper into the world he had called home all those years ago until he could almost feel each blade of grass beneath his feet, till he could almost taste the morning dew, and till he almost became a part of the natural realm of the woodland.

The music abruptly came to an end, and Lael was swiftly sent back in reality. Eyes wide and alert, he listened to the applause of the other patrons. Letting out a deep sigh, he rested his sharp narrow chin on his arms. He stared blankly ahead as he tried to ignore the dull ache that was his heart. A plate with a few slices of ham and a small bowl of fruit were placed in front him, and he wearily raised his head.

“Wish to have another cup of water?” The sun elf asked, her golden features seeming to glow in the morning sun.

Lael slowly shook his head. “No. No thank you,” he said. He looked at his plate, his stomach cramping at the mere sight of the food before him.

“Are you alright, sir?” asked the raenen as she tried to peer up his hood. She was answered with a bowed head as he tried to avoid her gaze. All she could see was the chest-length raven black hair that cascaded out of his hood like a midnight waterfall.

“Just…thinking…” came the blunt reply. Lael picked up a fork and speared a red piece of fruit. He stared at it as if it was poisonous, but he raised it to his mouth nonetheless. He chewed silently, his tongue drowning in a taste of foulness and venom. Yet he continued to eat his meager meal despite his thrashing stomach. He knew he would regret eating the food later.

The sun elf did not say anything. She straightened herself as she looked down at the hunched black and brown figure before her. She turned her head when she heard another patron seat himself at the bar, and she approached him with a warm greeting and smile.

Nibbling on the pork, Lael glanced at the other patron with the corner of his sharp eyes. He stopped chewing immediately and he looked back down at his plate. It was the gray eyed man whom he met on his way downstairs. He prayed silently to whatever deity not to be noticed. Unfortunately, no deity was listening to his prayers.

The goose-eyed man glanced over at Lael and beckoned the raenen closer. “That elf thar is nothin' but trouble,” he whispered. “Just right before I came down, he bumped inta me on purpose. I tried teh tell `im I'm sorry, but he walked away like he didn't hear me. I want somethin' done. I won't tolerate such rudeness.”

The raenen nodded in understanding, though she knew deep down that her other guest would never do such things. Then again, she also knew that quiet folk were the most unpredictable. She turned to Lael with her mouth open to speak. Nothing came out for she saw an empty chair where he had been. She saw the half-eaten pork and the gold left to pay for the meal. She heard the creak of a door, and she whirled her head in the direction of the sound. As she saw the door close, she caught a glimpse of a brown speckled cloak. She then turned her attention to the closet where she kept her guests' weapons. She saw the door gently swaying back and forth of the closet where she had kept Lael's weapons for the night. She jogged over, her golden face turning into a dull yellow as she neared the closest. She peered inside and saw nothing except for the keys which opened the door. He had taken his weapons and left.

“That boy ain't normal, let me tell ye,” the goose-eyed man huffed as he sipped his mead. “Son of a demon if ye ask me.”

The raenen shot a cold murderous stare at the older man before she returned to the bar after she grabbed the keys. She knew then he was not normal. She kept the keys on her at all times, and she did not even notice that her strange dark guest stole them.