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Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A Chapter by Devian

The night was cold and bitter, the wind like shards of ice that could pierce through flesh and bone and even chill the soul deep within, and the hard blanket of snow falling from the sky above did nothing for the improvement of the temperature.  For those that were safe behind the walls of their homes, snug underneath their cotton and wool covers, it was still chilly and damp, but for the wandering stranger, walking through the dark of the night from one place to another, it was almost deadly.  For this reason, all of the citizens of the land of Eltross knew better than to be caught off guard in the middle of the winter nights, far from home.

So when the stranger stumbled into, and fell onto the floor of, a tavern on the edge of the small town of Idol, his entire body and face covered with thick furs�"they were more than likely deer, later said one of the locals�"and his only visible features his eyes and nose; the eight men present at the tavern assumed he must be either a fool or a stranger.  When asked his name, he only looked over the snow covered furs that covered his face and uttering a bone-shaking cough before his whole body shivered.

“Get this man a jug of brandy,” one of the hunched, older gentlemen exclaimed as he bent down over the stranger, “this man is chilled to the bone!”

All of the talking and murmuring among the patrons had turned into whispers as they each looked on at the stranger as the barkeeper brought a jug of brandy and slowly peeled off the furs from around the man’s mouth to deliver the healing liquid.  A slight gasp ensued as it was revealed that his lips were blue, whether naturally or from the cold they could not say, but the mere fact was very unusual.  The barkeeper held up the man’s head and gently had him drink the brandy.

“This should warm your spirit,” the barkeeper�"a tall round man with a thick mustache and a long red scar across his left eye�"replied in a deep voice.

“Does anyone know who this man is,” asked the old man, who was currently holding the stranger’s gloved hands, “I’ve lived here forty-two years and have never seen him before.”

“I heard that some prisoners escaped the king’s dungeons and were last seen in town,” one of the younger men across the room offered.

“No,” contradicted another, “that was in Vince, the next town over, you drunken fool.”

“How long does it take to walk from there to here, Royce?” snapped the first.

“It doesn’t matter,” replied the barkeeper, before the two young men could start bickering, “it is our duty as fellow men to help this stranger in any way, whether he be one of Them or a murderer.”

The whispering grew at that, for although most They were good, no one in Idol wanted one around to take the chance that it might be a rogue member with evil in mind and heart, and a murderer was just as bad.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” the old man said, “we don’t know who this man is or where he came from, so before we pass judgment we need to get him to where he can talk and let us know, himself, if he is someone to fear or not.”

Everyone seemed to settle down at that, and the old man turned to the barkeeper, “Charles, I know you have that extra room upstairs that’s been empty for nearly twenty years due to that old b*****d that hung himself in there,” the barkeeper nodded, so the old man continued, “if you wouldn’t mind, we should take this man up there and let him rest in a decent cot for the night.”

Charles nodded, “My sentiments exactly.”

With that the two men, and one of the other young patrons, carried the nearly frozen stranger upstairs and put him on the cot, covering him with the quilts and making sure that the room’s shutters were tight and locked so no cold could seep through.

“That should do him for the night,” Charles said as they covered him and turned toward the door.

“And tomorrow he should be in a better condition to explain who he is, and what was passing through that damned mind of his while he decided to walk through the middle of the night,” the old man retorted as they closed and locked the door behind them.

“If he doesn’t kill the lot of us first,” the younger man said as he galloped down the stairs.

Charles and the old man just stopped and looked at each other, wondering, briefly and at the same time, if they had made the right choice in not throwing the man back out in the cold to die.

Later that night after all of the drunken patrons had stumbled out the door to go to their homes, the old man had remained in the tavern with Charles to talk about the stranger upstairs, hopefully asleep, in the cot.

“Did you see his lips?” Charles said after he had poured them both large glasses of mead and they had settled across from each other at one of the tables, “I swear by all the gods that something is strange about that man.”

“Are you concerned about what the men were saying, that he might be one of Them, or an escaped prisoner of the king?” the old man asked, taking a sip of his mead.

“I would be lying something heavy if I said that the worry hasn’t crossed my mind, Ivan,” Charles said, rubbing his eyes, “I only pray if he is one or the other that he be a murderer and I can kill him with justice, and he’s not one Them.”

“They are not all that bad,” Ivan said, “remember I have lived a long time, and only have seen and heard of four of Them turning to the dark arts in all my eighty-four years of life.”

“That’s not what concerns me, my old friend,” the other responded, “it’s the rule about Them that bothers me, it is. You know just as well as I that if anyone saves the life of one of Them, intentionally or unintentionally that individual has the authority by the king to claim the town as a controlled area under Them.”

“You know that rule is only an appreciation shown by Them, a thank you, as it were,” Ivan said, matter-of-factly, “they only do that to protect the town and the person responsible for such kindness.”

“Yes, well, I have heard tale of this so-called ‘kindness’ that They offer, and it does nothing but put the said towns under strict order,” Charles retorted, “and I would much rather any single one of Them give me the finger than a thank you any day.”

“Well,” the old man said, looking at the ceiling above them, fancying that he could see the man asleep, “we won’t know anything until morning, if ever it gets here.  So we had might as well put our questions and worries to rest, as well as ourselves, until then.”

“I suppose your right,” the other muttered, twirling a ring on his middle finger for a few seconds before looking up, “but still, Ivan, I kid you not; something about that man makes my hair stand on end and my skin crawl, it ain’t natural it ain’t.  I’ve had a lot of feelings in my days, and they usually hit right on the head of the nail.  To have this feeling and just ignore it makes me feel as if there’s a storm coming and I can’t close my shutters fast enough before I’m blown away.”

“All will be well, Charles,” the old man said, placing a gentle hand on the other man’s shoulder, “you just need some sleep, it’s been a busy day, with all the snow and such, you just need to rest on it, don’t fret.  Do you think I’ve lived so long making rash decisions?”

Charles shook his head, “I guess not, old man, I guess not.”

“Well then,” Ivan said, standing and stretching his hunched back, “lock the door behind me, I’m headed home.”

“Do you need some help getting there?” the barkeeper asked.

“I should hope not,” Ivan chuckled, “I’ve lived in the same house for nearly half a century, if I can’t find my way home by now then the snow put me to sleep and death take me, because otherwise I’m not worth a damn.”

Charles grinned at that and walked his old friend out the door.  Ivan turned suddenly and faced his friend.

“You know, Charles, you might be right, there might be something to worry about for the rest of the night, but try to let your mind be at ease, if you can.  There is no sense in worrying about what the future might bring, that turns sane men into mad men, and there are enough of those in the world, we don’t need anymore.”

Charles opened his mouth to say something, but Ivan turned away and began walking through the blanket of snow, and Charles watched him until his silhouette faded into the dark whiteness, and for the life of him the barkeeper could not remember what he was going to say.  With a shrug he closed and locked the door behind him, blowing out all the candles and making his way tiredly upstairs.  As he passed by the room where the stranger slept, he stood at the door, his hands in the pockets of his breeches, his mind racing and silent at the same time.  He truly did not know what to think of the stranger, who had made the evening event something for the town to gossip about for the next two weeks.

All that he knew was that his gut, deep down in the depths of his bowels he had a strange feeling, a feeling that something was going to happen, something that would change, not just his life, but the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands, maybe everyone.  He just could not decide if it was a good or a bad thing, and, as tired as he was at the moment, he didn’t want to wonder about it any longer.

“Good night, stranger, sleep well, and come morning, you have a lot of questions to answer,” he muttered under his breath before turning and walking to his bedroom.  He locked the door to his room that night, for the first time in twenty years.



© 2012 Devian


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Reviews

Thank you so much wolfhilde, i appreciate your review. i hope you like the next two as well


Posted 12 Years Ago


I like your first chapter very much! Nice way to start your story.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on January 5, 2012
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Author

Devian
Devian

AL



About
I am just your average 22 year old fantasy writer, although I can write in many more genres than fantasy, it is my passion. And, as any writer or poet knows, you must live in your passion. more..

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