The Hero's Fall

A Story by Tim Edwards

A beginning

Prologue Part I
The Master of Time

   It was the evening of the 48th of Deneth, the time of Leaving; the last of the night. The shadow of the pale lady, Kynthaes, had left for another year. The time for ripening fields and easy living was almost upon us. In a dark corner of a very dark manor, a boy is staring. Staring out through a window at the bleak night surrounding the mountainous region in which he lived. He was a suitably pitiable boy in the eyes of most Hierosians, his mongrel appearance quite unmistakably strewn upon him. No one’s disdain was forthright or bold enough to actively shun the child, for his father had claimed him for his own, but they whispered behind closed doors and cupped hands.

   Lightning splintered the night followed moments later by rolling thunder, ambling across the heavens like a meandering tumbleweed. The rain had been perpetually pouring for two weeks now, as it did every Leaving. The weather always took funny turns during the last season and this year was no exception. Missives from many of the outlying villages had reported the loss of stores due to storms and tornadoes. The boy’s father was not pleased.

   A second streak of lightning flicked across the sky, ruining the boys vision for a few seconds. After recovering from the light shock, he noticed a lone figure standing near the edge of the forest for the first time. He stared at the shadowy being, trying to find a semblance of recognition. As if by prescience, the man looked up into the 4th story window. Staring as deeply back at the boy as the boy was at him. Even through the proverbial wall of weather, the boy could see him smiling. The whites of the man’s teeth and eyes were a stark contrast to the mottled grey and black of the night surrounding him. After a few seconds consideration, the man ambled back to the enveloping shadows of the forest.

   A feeling of longing filled the boy’s heart for the moments in between the man’s disappearance another ear-splitting boom. The boy reeled from the sound and fell back from his perch in his observatory. The boom was not the characteristic sound defining thunder, but that of a powerful force expelling itself upon the timbers of a door. The boy stumbled to the door of his suites, opened it, and lead himself down the adjoining stares to the front room. His manservant, always dutifully nearby, reached the foyer first and proceeded to pull the front entrance open. The boy could hear a slight whisper of a voice and proceeded to quickly and quietly move closer to the door, as to not attract unwanted attention. He peeked around a corner to get a better view of the stranger behind the doors. He had seen those eyes before, they were unmistakably the eyes of the figure near the forest.

   “May I ask as to the reason and intended recipient of this late night intrusion, sir?” asked the manservant.

   The man presented a warm smile and answered back, “I am presently looking for Monsieur Raziel, the heir to the house.” Raziel leaned further around the corner, not wanting the manservant or stranger to espy his presence, but also wanting a better view. The man’s smiling broadened as his eyes casually flicked towards Raziel.

   “I do apologize, sir, but considering the hour, the unfamiliarity of your visage, and the lack of an appointment of any kind, I’m afraid I must turn you away. There is an inn a quarter mile or so down the road, awaiting guests like yourself. If you wish, you are more than welcome to try again tomorrow, perhaps at a more reasonable time.”

   “I quite understand, good man. I have merely been traveling the past few days and had wished this business over with. Please accept my apologies and regards on behalf of your masters.” The stranger, with an unfaltering smile, donned his oilskin hood and bade goodbye. The servant closed the front door and walked back towards the servant’s hall, no doubt setting the other servants to tasks before retiring himself.

   The boy, taking care not to be seen, climbed the stairs back to his observatory slowly. He was glumly opening the door when an odd wind rustled past. Upon entering the smells of rain and soaked garments filled his nostrils. He took notice of a oilskin cloak hanging from a coat hook near the hearth. It surely had not been there before, he thought as he walked over to it. He grasped the sleeve of the cloak between his fingers, rolling it between them. Raziel jumped as a voice loomed behind him.

   “Ah, Raziel, my boy. You have been a staple in my visions of what is to come and is good to finally see you in the flesh, rather than obscure thoughts and dreams. How are you?”

   Raziel swiveled in place to stare at the stranger in his observatory. The man looked different now, with his cloak off his shoulders. He stood near the window in which their eyes had first met. He wore what seemed to be a jester’s motley, strewn with dark crimson and black. Instead of the usual diamond shaped pattern found on most, His were like intricately interwoven patterns of circles inlaid with hexagons. Inside of the hexagons were a dozen more interconnected circles. The shapes seemed to move on their own accord, spinning and weaving into one another.

   The man turned to face Raziel and with a flourish of his canestaff, he smiled. His ivory teeth shown with utter brilliance against the contrast of his olive complexion and if not for the wrinkles that made his amber eyes glow, the smile would have been seen as leering or threatening. He took a couple steps forward and knelt upon the floor.

   "I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but from what I have gleaned of the future's portents tomorrow was, unfortunately, not soon enough." he said, "I have come to offer my services, discreetly of course, to you my lord. I will not be back tomorrow, nor for the next several years in fact, that is how it must be, but I urge you to listen and take heed of my words, for they will have much bearing on the years to come, and the roles you must play." The man tilted his head up to stare into Raziel's dumbfounded expression, "May I get up now, my lord? After centuries, these joints give me hell."

   "Oh! of.. of course! Please, do stand!" Raziel said, gathering together what remained of his wit. "The contents of your words so far have been obscure, but... intriguing. What information do you have for me?"

   The man stood, switching his view from Raziel to the fireplace, and began to walk towards it. For a few moments he just stared into the flames as if they were conversing in telepathic tones. A slight grin came to his face again and with that he spoke, "We must go somewhere far away and the experience may frighten you. Please be assured that you will come to no physical harm, although I cannot say whether the psychological imprint will be negative or positive."

   "I'm not so sure that I'm interested in that sir," Raziel said, matter-of-factly. "In fact, I am quite sure that I don't want any part in any sort of psychological imprint."

   The man's chuckle vibrated the air around Raziel. After its passing the man became quite somber and with a expression of deepest remorse, he spoke again, "Unfortunately, from what I have seen neither of us has much choice in this, considering the consequences... Look, my boy, if I could spare you this I would, in fact, I would trade a great many things to have this business done. The simple fact is that you are the only damned person in this forsaken country of yours to be in a position and willing, eventually, to do what needs to be done." He sat down in the wingback chair next to the fireplace and cupped his hand upon his face. In the firelight eons were placed upon his brow that had not existed earlier. "I have
searched the time-matrices thoroughly, If there was any other way, I would.."

   "I think I understand," Raziel said, smirking, "At least tell me your name, before we begin this."

   The man stood and looked at Raziel, a grin slowly spreading. He extended his canestaff towards Raziel, who grasped just below the stellated dodecahedron placed upon the top. "I? I am Kaleth, of Kynthaes." and with that, everything went black.

© 2014 Tim Edwards

Author's Note

Always interested in feedback, especially the constructive variety! :)

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Featured Review

David Jae

This is well-written and engaging, gripping the reader from the first word.

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Your descriptions are subtle and powerful, with an ecomony of language that conjures rich images with no wasted words. The subtle depths of the world you create flow from the page, establishing the details of the society and people without exposition. Your characters are well-thought out and powerful, deeply engaging.

If there is a criticism, it is that some of your dialogue is a little stilted and you might want to read them out to yourself. But, this is a minor point.

Ganbare