by Cale Madison
Prologue
This is a tale of courage and valor - how far a man will go for the woman he loves. War and famine spreads throughout our desolate world, burning and maiming everything in its wake, spawning horrid, nefarious monsters that feast on the dead and prey on the living. This is the story of the trials and tribulations of my friend who found himself tied to the various fates of some unpleasant characters and thrown into a world which he had never known, outside of his village boundaries. Across the sea, the great city of Ataman has declared war on rival factions in their pursuit of precious silver, ravaging neighboring lands for their imports and land to breach on. North of Ataman lies the province of Tuskan, home to bountiful vineyards and tied to an age-old alliance with the elves of Avenwood. The Southern Isles, known also as the Badlands, a ravenous chain of islands that knows no law or order fights as well, for the claim of property and the greed of coin.
In our world, sorcery and magic are used for healing or in the dark arts of mysticism and necrophagy. Terrifying beasts roam the lands in the dark, preying on unfortunate souls who stray too far from their homes at night - vampires, witches, ghouls and dragons, all co-existing together to serve as rationale to keep us from venturing past our fences. Our story begins in a place without such creatures, in a small harbor village called Mercia, where adventures are few and far between for those not seeking them. I came across this young man on his quest to save the woman he loves, learned of his plights and quandaries while accompanying him upon the adventure of a lifetime. His name is Caine Mercer and this is his story.
- Petri Callogahn
CHAPTER 1
WISHFUL THINKING
I could see the pain in her eyes. That desperate longing for life. She craves the love we once had, before the sickness wormed it’s way into her brain. All I can see is my dying wife, clinging to her last breath. I knelt down beside her bed, looked deep into her fading eyes, then planted a gentle kiss onto her forehead.
“I will see you smile before the day is over.” I reassured.
Aketa was her name. The most beautiful creature in the world; she was my kindred spirit. With her flowing, blonde hair and a single glance from her eyes, she would have any man on their knees, pleading for her attention. The way she walked: sophisticated and confident. The way she talked: boasting without spite, whole-heartedly and full of life. A man’s character is measured in the strength he lends to fight for his family when all hope is lost; this and the love I have for Aketa, I know to be absolute.
I could never forget the night that we met. This was five years ago - both of us were coming of age and had accepted invitations to Taryn Hallow, our mutual friend’s wedding party. We had never met, nor did we even know of each-other’s existence. Somehow, by some stroke of luck, our paths crossed. Aketa was laughing amongst her friends by a fountain, reminiscing of past memories and such when I approached her. I wish I could tell you that I swept her off of her feet with my grace and charm, but I was in no such state of mind. In my drunken stupidity from one too many bottles of wine, I collapsed into the fountain behind her, soaking her and her friends in cold water.
“Such grace, my friend. You must be a catch with the ladies.” Aketa laughed as she pulled me from the fountain. Her company had shrieked from the sudden splash and vanished into the celebrating wedding party, leaving us alone momentarily.
“Only the ones willing to catch me.” I answered her. I could feel a surge of confidence arising from the alcohol as it began to poison my motives and dull my senses. As thankful as I was that my brain was functioning at the capacity to create coherent sentences, I could not see past this wonderful being before me. She had this beautiful, glowing aura around her, as if all the light in the party was being drawn towards us. When she smiled, instantaneously it brought the same to my face. This was something indescribable; something I had never felt before, and have never felt since. I instantly wanted to learn of her history, her future and her present state of life.
“I’m Aketa. What do they call you?” she asked me.
“Caine...”
“Just...Caine?”
“Oh, right, Mercer. Caine Mercer.” I replied, nearly slapping myself for the nervous stupidity. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had left me right then.
“Strong name.” she said with a smile. I could feel this powerful, invisible connection between us from that moment on. I became addicted at the first sight of her. We strolled throughout the wedding ceremony, partaking in the evening games, singing with drunken charlatans and learning intricate details about each other. As the night progressed, we enjoyed watching fire-swallowers and jesters alike, making utter fools of themselves as they burned their throats, merrymaking alongside us.
“Let’s hope you dance as well as you fall into fountains, my friend.” I remember her whispering into my ear. Her warm breath sent a chill down my spine.
“I’ll have you know, I can be as spry as a peacock, given the appropriate amount of wine and beautiful ladies.” I laughed, my drunken confidence breaking the surface on a brief occasion. The music was as beautiful and rhythmic as her voice; she moved with such grace and elegance, each step bounding off the grass without effort. There were no proper words to describe her. When she spoke, everything in the world became silent and when she stood before me, I saw nothing else.
“We should find a more quiet place to talk,” she said to me as we danced, “I can barely hear myself think here.”
“What?!” I drunkenly shouted, smiling, “Did you say something? We should find a better place to talk, I think. This is no place for a conversation.”
She led me out of the wedding party into a secluded orchard behind the tents. We walked among the trees, learning about each other - our fondest memories, our loves and hates and everything in between. This girl was perfect; I clung to every word she said, eagerly awaiting the next sentence to learn more.
“Is Aketa a family name? I don’t know any Aketa’s in Mercia.”
“My grandmother named me, after her favorite gardener, if you’d believe such a thing. That’s funny because I know a great many Caine’s.” she replied.
“None like me, I presume.”
“Is that so?”
“How many Caine’s could fall head-first into a fountain, drunk off his ass, only to have the fairest lady in the land accompany him to dance thereafter - shortly leading him into an orchard to talk in private? I must say, as far as all other Caine’s are concerned, I must be the best at it.” I answered.
“You must be the best.” she agreed, laughing.
“Tell me this - what is something you wish to do before you grow too old to do it? Your most treasured wish for your future?”
Aketa paused for a moment, racking her thoughts for the appropriate answer.
“I want to travel to different corners of the world, to see the dragons of the Southern Isles, the direwolves of the North - to hear the songs of the sirens on Orion’s beaches would be fantastic.”
“So you wish to travel?”
“Yes, absolutely. I don’t want to grow too old before I have seen further beyond Mercian trees. That thought scares me to death.” she replied.
“What do your parents think of this plan?”
“Father wishes for me to study at a pristine university in Ataman. In his eyes, reputation and respect could not be traded for a pure, fulfilled soul.” she answered.
“And your mother?”
“Passed a few winters ago.”
“I’m sorry.” I replied, retreating my curiosity in this moment of vulnerability.
“You know, I never understood why people feel the need to apolo
gize when addressing the dead,” she said, “as if their ghosts would take any offense. I’ve coped with tragedy before, sir. See this?”
Aketa presented me with a necklace, bearing a silver pendant broken down the middle, creating two equal halves with a heart engraved in the center. She then placed it into my hands and said, “This is all I understand.”
“A broken necklace?”
“My grandmother told me that the man I should someday marry will bear one of the halves. A memento to last a lifetime,” she said, “crazy old woman.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Relationships are not as she remembers. Nothing lasts forever.”
“You think so? Truly?”
Aketa shook her head and I realized how she thought. The moonlight bounded off of the hedges around us, reflecting against the pond across from us to leave just enough visibility to see her beauty.
“They tell me love is unconditional, unchanging but it’s really a mere figment of our wildest fantasies. I’ve never felt the sparks between two hands,” she said, locking her fingers with mine, “it’s only a touch. Nothing more.”
“Well, you are a downer because I definitely felt something.” I replied.
“You did?”
“Oh, yes.” I laughed.
I moved her tiny fingers in between mine and rubbed her hand with my free left as she proceeded to ask, “What is love to you, Caine Mercer?”
“I’ve never known.” I answered, truthfully.
“I’ll tell you what love is. Love is a stranger in the night, one who comes bearing gifts with a knife concealed in his belt. Colorful promises with a darker motive...something warned of but never learned until too late.”
“Then why let the stranger into your home in the first place?”
“That’s the lesson I once learned the hard way,” Aketa replied, “trusted the fire and burned myself. Children have a better understanding than I.”
“What happened?”
“He came from a noble family, a rich one. I was young...very, very young and stupid. He promised me everything a young girl ever wanted with a large house on a hillside, some fat dogs, servant’s quarters with twenty maids and property to be signed in our name. Gave him years of commitment and when the time came to marry, he abandoned me for my closest friend.”
“You loved this boy?”
“I loved the idea, the thought of having someone to care for at night. Someone who would say they loved me forever. Believing that and hearing it are completely different. To answer your question...no, I did not love that boy.”
She paused after saying this, as if realizing something. I placed one of the necklace halves into her soft hands, closed them, then her eyes met mine. In this moment...this one moment, it felt as if time stopped moving around us. The birds fell silent, the breeze ceased to sway the trees and garden bushes around us and, in this one moment, I knew that I was falling deeply, madly in love with this woman. We stood there in the dark for several moments, allowing the silence to speak the words we could not say.
“Aketa,” I announced, breaking the tension, “Out of respect for you and all women like you, I can not allow you to live another second doubting love. I shall keep this half as a token of my unwavering faith to this cause. On the day you believe in it, I will return it to you.”
I hoped, in those few moments before she replied, my attempt at romance would not come off as too strong. Fortunately, her mouth appeared to be forming a smile.
“Should that day come, sir, you needn’t return it.”
I looked into her eyes, stopping her as we walked and said, “Aketa, you’re by far the most interesting person I’ve ever met. I don’t agree with some of your logic but, in time, you will come to terms with reality. This is something I would rather not let slip by, if you feel the same.”
She smiled and I smiled back.
Wherever this woman would go, I would be sure to follow. I wanted to protect her, guide her, accompany her through this difficult journey of life and make her laugh for the remainder of our days. I believe that these golden moments are merely a brief candlelight in the darkest of shadows, soon to be snuffed out. I live by this principle, which allowed me to fall harder and even deeper in love with this woman named Aketa.
Neither of us knew what would come of this but in a way, I had always known. Aketa was my treasure; my perfect woman. We would marry in the following months and live happily for the next five years. These were the happiest days of my life.
Intimate walks along the beaches and hikes through the mountain trails became routine for us. Star-crossed, we were young lovers with a burning fire of passion between us. This fire never cooled, engulfing everything in its path. We planned for children but we wanted to wait until the right time to reveal itself; she was always the more thoughtful planner while I was the lesser, more spontaneous half. I spent the spring and winter hunting in the woods, trading pelts in the town for enough coin to get by; we spent the summers laying in the shade of our favorite oak tree with its arms reaching to the heavens. Money had no value to us in our youth, only serving as a distraction from more time with each other. She had no imperfections, only strengths to my weaknesses. I would find myself smiling throughout each day with no explanation other than waking up next to her.
Aketa was perfect - the absolute epitome of perfection.
Alas, there are always darker days. Some deal with the devil made once upon a time crept its way into our perfect world. There would no longer be romantic walks along the shore or midnight walks in the forest. Aketa fell deathly sick in the late of last spring, starting with the fevers, cold sweats and sleepless nights, then came the harkening noises, as she described.
The first quality to fade was her skin; the soft, warm glow of her lovely cheeks would become hollow and pale, deteriorating as her condition worsened. Following her skin would be her eyes. Her alluring, blue eyes, once filled with wonderment and an everlasting curiosity were now a misty shade of grey. After her eyes began to lose their shine, Aketa’s body declined, causing her to stay bedridden while I hunted in the forest. I noticed these peculiarities, saddening me in the most powerful way. On a nightly basis, she would scream and wail about beetles inside of her head; vicious, biting sounds like maggots crawling through her skull. I fell into a deep depression, feeling a sense of helplessness in her struggle to survive. All I could do was watch as she cried out in agony. I prayed and I prayed but nobody ever answered.
Aketa would lay awake, moaning for hours on end, pleading for the Gods to kill the endless pain. I had never felt so alone until that singular moment when all hope was lost. Food ceased to taste the same, music in the market sounded dull and lifeless and the once hot, spring wind felt unfamiliar. In one week, it seemed that our entire existence was about to collapse; all of our dreams for the future, for each-other, was coming to an end and there was nothing we could do to change it. We tell those we love that we will fight to keep them safe, but what can be done when death is knocking at your doorstep and you cannot escape?
Rumors reached my ears of a magical being, a Djinn, that dwelled in the caves south of us; one that was even fabled to cheat death. I knew very little of these creatures. The only confirmed information I was given was that a Djinn requires something in exchange for its services, granting a singular wish. I could care less what he’d ask of me; I only longed to save my wife.
Taryn, my oldest friend from childhood and a proud tailor in the village of Mercia, informed me of where to find him. He spoke of folk tales claiming if you perform a specific ritual in the darkest, most formidable part of the forest, he shall appear. I packed enough for a two days’ venture and set out to save the love of my life. As I left, she grabbed my wrist and looked into my eyes; a haunting yet hopeful stare. I leaned down, pressing my forehead against hers, whispering, “I will see you smile again before the day is over. I promise.”
The house became smaller and smaller as I traveled further south. The
trails through the forest brought me to dead-ends and dark mountain passes with my only motivation awaiting me in a soft bed at home. The skies were clouded, casting haunting shadows along the path laid ahead. I walked until my feet were sore; my ankles bled from poor footwear, but I did not care.
“Where are you…” I whispered to myself as I walked, glancing behind me constantly. High above, tree branches lashed out from the canopy as if the woods were begging for me to leave. I walked through many clearings but a part of me knew that this Djinn had to dwell in an even darker, more sinister place.
I could recall a cave in these woods. On hunting trips as a child, my father always scolded me for venturing near it. I never questioned his reasoning why. I simply avoided considering the options - monsters that lived inside or perhaps some kind of evil spirit?
Glistening streams flowed elegantly between the Mercian hills, lush groves concealed inscrutable monstrosities that dared for a passing traveler to explore. My trembling hands gripped my water carton tightly, it serving as my only protection against sinister elements in the wilderness. I could hear rustling in the trees - slight movements of squirrels as they leapt across branches and dove headfirst into thickets; my anxiety peaked with a hundred fatal possibilities of what else was lurking in the darkness of the swamps and marshes.
A vast stretch of moors, known by Mercians as Basset’s Bog, teemed with unnerving creatures that dwelled beneath the mucky surface. My path into the forest brought me alongside this tenebrous swab of land; my father had always warned me about straying too far from the main road and the dire consequences. He told me stories about native monsters that could petrify a man with one look upon their hideous faces, some even possessing the ability to mimic the voices of tormented children, in order to lead lone wanderers astray.
I overheard the horrid sounds before I ever saw them. Huddled beneath lifeless trees were bony figures, ripping apart the carcass of a long dead stag. I shuddered as five or six hairless ghouls gnawed and chewed into the rotting flesh, howling and hissing in a frightening manner. Their pearl-white, beady eyes flashed in the light of the sun and darted across the trees as they searched for signs of intruders in their bog. I remained silent, choosing my steps carefully as to not draw any unwanted attention.