Adalbert

This is just a piece of a chapter. Want to know what you guys think.

Adalbert was a walking bundle of nerves. He was maneuvering stiffly, gripping the handle of his bag so tightly his knuckles were white�" almost as white as his face. He stuck out of the crowd like a sore thumb�" no, worse. He was surrounded by adolescent boys and strong men, some with the bulk of a gruf. They were massive, scarred, and hardened warriors.

Adalbert was a scrawny boy of no more than fourteen years. The worst roughhousing he had ever experienced was when his grandfather would tousle his hair in his youth. He was tall for his age, true, but he was like a stick amongst logs. His face expressed nothing less than sheer terror.

“He won’t last a day in the field,” he heard someone mutter behind him.

This comment actually calmed the boy. He wasn't going to go in the field. He was joining the war like the rest of them, true, but not into battle. He preferred to help in the safety of a highly guarded room. It took all of his courage just to board the ship here. A recurring nightmare he had while he was aboard the ship was of the generals not believing his story and putting him in battle. It’d always end in dark green elves and pale men gnawing on his bones and washing him down with ick’s milk. He had always wished the dream would end before that.

The real reason he was here was to use his wits. Adalbert was a child prodigy. He would have preferred to spend his life as an artist, but a lot had changed in his life. He was forced to use his talents in strategy for the war.

He inhaled deeply through his nose. Remember why you’re here, he thought; and, before his courage had any time to leave him, he ran through the large marble double doors.

The building, called Righteousness of Aigna, is both a recruit center and a command center. It’s where all large decisions of war are made. Soldiers and Generals lived here for the most part, but during actual battle, they would camp in the dark forest behind the building and cross what was once a border to the west side of Aigna. Only certain Generals, usually old or cowardly, did not join them in battle.

And there it was: The reception desk. It was right in front of him. All he had to do was tell them who he was, and they would accept him. All his nightmares were just whims of fantasy. He was only a few steps away from everything he had been preparing for. Just a few steps and he would be on his way.

Adalbert waited for a moment, and then cursed himself. Unreasonable fear had locked his legs in place. He couldn't move.

He had gone through this before, several times. He had done this constantly at home with his grandfather and sister when he would go gruf watching with them. Grufs, of course, were humanoid beasts that acted like buffalo and deer. They were peaceful herbivores, but they were alarmingly large. People in the east, also known as the Good Ones, had never hunted them. Those on the west�" the Dark Ones�" however, were known for hunting grufs and drinking the milk of their females, who were referred to as icks. The Good Ones saw this behavior as barbaric and would commonly refer to it when speaking against them.

To the ignorant, grufs were terrifying creatures. They walked on all four, but stood erect often, for what seemed like no good reason. They looked like giants, powerful enough to kill a little child with ease. Poor Adalbert’s legs would commonly lock up, and he would be stuck there until his grandfather or sister came to get him.

More recently, though, when he had gone to libraries and markets, his legs would freeze the same way around strangers. As he grew older, he realized that he couldn't always depend on his family for help. He had taught himself some techniques to make him mobile again. They were simple ones, such as taking deep breaths or counting to ten. He decided to do both.

Once he was done with that, he attempted moving again. Pressure remained on his chest, and his legs were still about as responsive as a paraplegics’. He cursed himself again, becoming disturbingly conscious of those moving about him, staring at him oddly, making him feel worse.

He shut his eyes and attempted to picture himself in a happier place. He found himself in front of his grandfather’s home on Bright Aigna Islands. His grandfather and sister were waiting for him out front. All he had to do was walk forward, and he would be home.

Adalbert’s feet began to move, almost unexpectedly. When they did, though, Adalbert was shaken from his dream and became alarmingly aware of where he was. His body reacted a similar way to when his legs froze, only now, he couldn't stop walking; at least, not until he got to the desk, which seemed to take an age to get to.

“Soldiers sign up at the back,” a large, bulky man told him. His skin was dark, and he had a massive scar across a white eye.

Adalbert attempted to talk to him. He truly did. But instead, to his horror, he could only muster a high pitched squeal. He sounded pathetic.

The large man raised a hairless eyebrow. “You sure you want to join the war? There are things on the field much scarier than little ol' me.” He chuckled.

“My name,” Adalbert whined, relieved that at least there were actual words being produced by his mouth, “my name is Adalbert Cuinn Ecgbeorht. I did not come to fight.” The statement itself would have been something to be proud of, had his voice not have been shaking and cracking as he spoke. He felt as if he was going to faint from the effort.

The large man seemed confused for a moment, and then laughed. “That much was obvious. Imagine the likes of you, out on the field, attempting to pick up a sword twice your weight as a Dark One charges after you!”

The large man continued laughing. Adalbert grimaced with fear, though it looked oddly like the crazed grin of a madman. When the man’s roaring laughter died down, he took a look at the terrified boy (he had stopped grin-grimacing), and decided to take pity on him.

“If you did not come here to fight,” he began slowly, “Why did you come here?”

Adalbert imagined him laughing again after telling him, dismissing him as a stupid boy and sending him back home.

After the thought of going back home, Adalbert found an odd, defensive strength in him; one that had appeared only recently and wasn't typical of him at all. It was a feeling that told him to stand his ground. I have to do this, he thought.

“I came to be a general,” he said, his voice steady and confident for the first time since leaving the islands.

The large man started. The boy�"man�"person�"in front of him had just turned from a helpless kitten into a defensive war dog in a matter of seconds. Regardless, the boy was chasing fantasies.

“Being a general is a grown-up duty, child,” he said. “Join those who are fighting, or be on your way.”

“This is my way,” Adalbert urged on. He took papers from his bag and plopped them on the table. “I am a prodigy. I could prove useful.”

The large man examined the papers. His name quickly caught his attention, even though it slipped by him only moments earlier.

“You're an Ecgbeorht?” The man asked. “As in, Adalmar Ecgbeorht?”

“The very same,” Adalbert said. “I’m his grandson. There’s a note personally from him on the bottom of all that.” His voice lost its demanding edge at the end of the sentence. Adalbert’s odd nobility was fading, and he was returning to his old, modest self again.

The large man found the note. After a few moments, he said, “Follow me.”

Author's Note

Tell me EVERYTHING that's wrong.