The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1)

by Brennan C. Adams

  The corner of Aramar’s mouth twitched up nervously, and he knelt to bind the carcass to the branch.

  “Next you’ll tell me we’re in one of those horror stories you loved to listen to as a kid,” he said with a small laugh.

  “If we were, you’d be the first of us to die,” Raimie replied, still scanning the forest for any movement.

  “Why me?!”

  “You’re older and wiser, and you’re my father. That means you die early so I have the motivation to seek revenge on whatever monster killed you,” Raimie explained. “Besides everyone knows the kid survives.”

  “That doesn’t mean…”

  “And I’d have to be the main character, especially after this Shadowsteal nonsense. In other words, if I’m going to die, it won’t be until after every avenue of escape has been exhausted and I’ve fought to the bitter end. I think I’d get the worse fate in that scenario.”

  “Would you stop talking about such grim things and help me?!” Aramar squeaked, tightening the knot with more force than was required.

  Raimie smiled pleasantly at his father and knelt to assist. Once they were finished trussing the carcass, the two lifted the load in tandem, resting it upon one shoulder each, and started home. As they passed the traps set earlier, Raimie checked if any had sprung, and if one had snared prey, they took a small break to gather the captured animal’s remains.

  Once they emerged from the woods, they had a grand total of one deer, three squirrels, and one rabbit. They left their trussed up trophy leaning against the shed and brought the smaller carcasses inside to gut, skin, and clean. It was bloody work, but to Raimie, it was comforting.

  When he was a boy, he’d help his mother do this exact chore while his father was out completing others. His mother would wrap her hazelnut hair into a tight bun on the back of her head and don a thick apron before beginning. When he was old enough to handle a knife, she’d have him help, and the two of them would laugh and talk. His mother would sing for him, and she’d tell him stories. Once the chore was complete, she’d pull off the apron, thoroughly wash her hands, and only then come to kiss her son on the forehead.

  “I love you, my beautiful boy,” she’d say every time.

  It was one of the few good memories of her that he had.

  That was why now, as he cut the head off of the rabbit’s body, Raimie sang under his breath with a small smile.

  “That singing of yours is one of the most disturbing habits you have. I know why you do it, but it’s not any less unnerving. I sometimes wondered about your mother’s sanity too,” Aramar said, interrupting his recollections.

  “Should I stop?” Raimie asked defensively.

  “No, please don’t! It’s one of the rare occasions when I can see Samantha in you.”

  Raimie blushed and resumed his work on the rabbit carcass he’d been skinning. After a few minutes of awkward silence, a song was on his lips again. By the time Aramar and Raimie had dressed the four smaller bodies, the sun was grazing the horizon.

  “You start dinner preparations, and I’ll put the traps away and store our big prize somewhere other critters won’t get to it overnight,” Raimie said while washing up. “I doubt we’ll have enough light to dress it this evening.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to cook? I might accidentally burn the house down,” Aramar teased.

  Raimie glared at his father and marched out the door. Once he reached the shed, he rolled his shoulders and prepared to drag his burden to a more secure location for the night. They were lucky winter was dying, leaving its cold temperatures behind; otherwise, all of this meat might spoil before it could be salted tomorrow.

  As he bent over, Eledis briskly strode past on the path between the family’s two homes. Raimie crouched and followed the old man’s stride into the larger house with his gaze. It wasn’t that he was avoiding his grandfather per se, more delaying the inevitable conversation about his decision. He wanted to have the words that would avoid that crushing look of disappointment he was certain to receive before the confrontation took place.

  Once he was sure he wouldn’t be spotted, Raimie grabbed the trussed up animal and dragged it toward the cellar. He carefully opened the hatch and dropped the carcass with a soft thud to the dirt floor. Lightly springing after it, he released one of the knots binding the meat to the wood.

  “His mind is made up?” he barely made out through the floorboards above.

  Even with the voice muffled, Raimie recognized Eledis’ timbre and tone. He paused in his task, tilting his head to squint up. The old man’s feet were planted next to chair legs, and Aramar’s shadow splayed away from the stove.

  The sizzle of the pan covered his father’s reply, and Raimie snuck across the dirt floor to stand halfway between the two men, hoping for a better chance to catch their words. He was gleefully guilty over the chance to eavesdrop on an unguarded conversation between Eledis and his father. Maybe he could learn more secrets before they could surprise him. More barely audible syllables floated down.

  “And there’s no way to convince him otherwise?”

  “No, Eledis, and honestly, I don’t think you should try. If you force him to follow, Raimie will fight you, heart and soul. You’ll have to deal with escape attempts, possible sabotage, and most importantly, that damned surliness he gets when he’s upset. In the long run, it might be better to let nature run its course. We both know it’ll lead him where you want him eventually.”

  “Prophecies do have a way of forcing their targets to their foretold conclusion. But don’t pretend you’re neutral about this. He’s your son, Aramar!”

  “Well, of course I have a side! My side is whatever’s best for Raimie, but you have to agree that my reasoning’s sound too.”

  “Yes, yes, you and your son with your reasoning. Reason has a way of getting trampled when magic gets involved. Speaking of which, you’ll be staying as protection I’m guessing.”

  “I’d stay regardless of whether he needs protection or not, but I’m hoping that finding your damn sword hasn’t alerted our enemy to his presence. I’d rather not fight whatever nasty servant might be sent after him.”

  “You’re naïve if you don’t think he’ll need protection, Aramar, but that doesn’t come as a surprise to me. Can’t you hear the ringing?”

  A chair scraped back, and Eledis’ huff drifted through the cracks.

  “I want you to stay. I’ll head to Allanovian first thing and endure the Esela’s disdain for a day or two to ensure you two won’t need saving. After that, I’ll be moving on.”

  “I’m not staying because you want it,” Aramar muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, aren’t you staying for dinner?”

  Raimie never heard his grandfather’s response. He struggled to swallow the fist in his throat, trembling with rage. He was trapped, helpless against his family’s acceptance of the certainty of his own destiny. Gasping little hiccups, he held back a roar at his impotence.

  In the far corner of the cellar where he’d found the sword that had precipitated this calamity, a dark figure crackled into existence, fading in and out just as the silhouette of light had earlier. It buzzed with a low roar Raimie could only describe as the noise the world would make if it was torn asunder. He forgot to breathe.

  The figure took a step forward, and Raimie squeaked noisily just as his father took his pan off of the heat source above, effectively ending its sizzling.

  “Did you hear something?” Eledis asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  The two voices rumbled and intertwined above him once again, and Raimie gushed the retained air from his lungs, never taking his eyes from the anomaly. The figure stopped at the sound of the other’s voices, flickered two or three times in rapid succession, and disappeared.

  Raimie’s legs nearly gave out from the sudden alleviation of fear and tension. What was happening to him? He’d thought the first figure might be a fluke or a trick of his ima
gination, but two? He couldn’t believe that was simply his mind deceiving him. Something was severely wrong.

  He could share with Eledis or his father, maybe ask for advice, but after the conversation he’d overheard, he wasn’t comfortable with that idea. What would he do when they accused him of insanity? Awkwardly retract his confession?

  Frustration briefly threatened to overwhelm him. What do you do with a problem that can’t be solved or shared when worrying about it is a waste of time?

  And just like that, he relegated the issue to another portion of his mind, there to be analyzed and agonized over when he had the spare time or energy. Temporarily ignoring the problem wouldn’t be easy to do, but if he could make a conscious decision to focus elsewhere any time the apprehension crawled to the surface, Raimie thought he could accomplish just that. Until there was some way to effectively solve the possible break in his brain, at least.

  Shuddering imperceptibly, Raimie crept to the cellar’s entrance, gingerly climbing the ladder to bang the hatch open and closed. He leaped off of the top rung and landed as heavily as he could.

  Hoping that would be enough to hide the fact that he’d been eavesdropping, Raimie dragged the deer corpse further into the cellar, finished unstrapping it from the branch, and threw a rope over one of the rafters. He bound one end of the rope to the hind legs of the deer and used the opposite end to haul the carcass into the air. After tying the rope off, he slid his palms against one another vigorously, dust puffing from them like smoke.

  He rested his hands on his hips to catch his breath and determine how the information he’d overheard might change what he’d planned to tell Eledis. In the end, it wouldn’t make a difference.

  So the rest of the family believed his destiny was already planned for him, so what? He’d make his decisions and stick by them. If events conspired to force him away from the path he’d chosen, he’d deal with them then. Mind made up, Raimie headed outside.

  He slammed the kitchen door open. Eledis broke off midsentence, mouth hanging open, while Aramar simply looked amused. Raimie ignored the two of them, clomped over to the stove, and made his choices for dinner. He brought the plate to the table and plopped into the last remaining chair.

  “Isn’t it time to eat?” he asked.

  The other men scrambled to serve their plates, muttering snide comments about appropriate supper times and his efforts to break doors off of hinges. As they slunk back to the table, Raimie analyzed for evidence that they knew he’d overheard their conversation. While his father wouldn’t meet his gaze, Eledis acted no more differently than he had that morning handing out his ultimatum. Raimie took note, enjoying his meal while the other two members of the family arranged themselves around the table.

  “Have you given more thought to what you’ll do come morning?” Eledis asked.

  “I expect I’ll be rising much earlier than I’d intended in order to see you off, and then I’ll head back to bed,” Raimie replied.

  Despite Aramar’s advice, Eledis would argue with him now. It wasn’t in his nature to give up so easily, so Raimie prepared for the onslaught.

  “I’m proud of you, Raimie,” Eledis said. “Most men would allow their family members to rule their lives, but you’re choosing loyalty to yourself and logic. I hope that will keep you alive longer than the rest of us at this table tonight.”

  The fork stopped midway to Raimie’s mouth.

  “It’s not that I don’t love you, or this family,” he replied when he found his voice. “If you asked me to go with you and we had the smallest smidgen of a chance at success, I would do it in a heartbeat, come pain, hardship, or death. There isn’t a chance in hell, however, that we’d accomplish our purpose. I don’t want to die without reason.

  “Having said that, is there any way I can change your mind? I don’t want to lose my grandfather to an impossible goal either.”

  “I’m an old man,” Eledis answered. “This may be my last opportunity to make things right, to participate in something greater than myself, to save those who are suffering. I doubt very much that there’s a single thing you could say or do to convince me to spend the rest of my days living in ignominy in these woods.”

  “I suppose that’s settled then,” Raimie said, finishing the conversation and dropping the family into an awkward silence.

  Forks scraped against plates, delivering slightly scorched meat into mouths.

  “It’s funny that you think you’ll be allowed to go back to bed tomorrow morning,” Aramar said with forced joviality. “I think it’s only appropriate that you dress my kill since you botched shooting it in the first place.”

  “How is that fair?!” Raimie complained just as Eledis spoke.

  “Botched the shot?”

  “Oh, it’s quite a fascinating story. You see, our Raimie over here had the perfect shot, but at the last second, he flinched.”

  “You’re joking, right?” followed by “That’s not what happened!”

  The unease hovering over the table faded, still vibrantly present in the background but resolutely ignored by the men. As supper continued, following the routine prescribed for as long as he could remember, Raimie struggled to keep the sense of loss from affecting his designated role. When the evening inexorably drew to a close, he could taste the relief.

  The door swung shut after Eledis, and Raimie’s breath hitched for a brief moment. Even Aramar, who typically held nothing but hostility and disdain for his father, seemed upset by the old man’s departure. Their old normal was soon to disappear, and a new one would have to take its place. To avoid confronting these new complexities, Raimie covered the distance to his bedroom in a flash.

  “Good night, dad,” he said, pausing at the door.

  “Good night, son,” Aramar replied.

  With the door closed, the darkness painted his bedroom pitch black. Navigating to his bed from memory, Raimie peeled clothes off frantically. He perched on the mattress’s edge, leaning his elbows on his knees with his palms cradling his forehead.

  After tomorrow morning, Raimie would never see his grandfather again. The books and cottage would stay behind, a mausoleum without the old man’s presence to breathe life into it. All because of a stupid sword he’d found. He should never have confronted his father about it. Maybe if he’d left well enough alone, life wouldn’t have changed, but no, he had to figure out the mystery.

  Raimie huffed and opened his eyes, ready to collapse into the sheets and hopefully fall asleep quickly. Dreams would provide a nice escape.

  The illumination blazing in the room seared his open orbs, blinding them after the brief stint in the dark. He squinted to filter the stream through his eyelashes and instantly turned to stone. One figure each of light and dark stood on either side of him, leaning over with hands on knees and heads cocked inquisitively.

  A slit appeared in their heads which opened and closed, buzzing pushing forth in spurts. They remained silent for a moment, as if waiting for a response, and then the light hummed a bit more. The dark straightened, crossed its arms, and hissed toward the light. Before Raimie could fully follow the proceedings, loud buzzing crackled in the air between the two anomalies punctuated by an occasional screech and whine. The dark figure’s hissing won out over any other sound, and it jerked forward, throwing its fist into the other’s face. The light raised its hand to block at the last second, and when their appendages collided, the figures burst apart with a pop, leaving Raimie alone in the natural darkness of night.

  His heart pulsed loudly in his ears.. In a fugue, Raimie crawled into the center of the bed, tucked his arms and legs into a tight ball, and tried not to hyperventilate. Hours passed, and when he could hold the weariness back no longer, he tumbled out of his bulbous pile of limbs. His head hit the pillow, and his arms splayed out to either side, their weight pulling on his shoulder joints. He closed his eyes and prayed for dreams to come. He didn’t sleep a wink.

  When the Sun’s rays crested the horizon, he welcomed his f
ather’s knock on the door.

  “I’m awake,” he answered, his voice like gravel.

  The exhaustion made his morning routine much more difficult, but he completed it anyway.. Dressing quickly, he dragged his tired body through the door and out of the house.

  Eledis and Aramar waited beside the road. His grandfather hadn’t taken the time to wash or shave. Instead, it looked as if he’d spent it piling as many books into his knapsack as it could fit without bursting the seams. He carried a cane to assist with his hike, and a wide-brimmed hat sat atop his unruly white hair to keep the sun off of his face. Lastly, he carried Shadowsteal in a sheath on his belt. The hilt had been wrapped so as to avoid attracting attention.

  “You look horrible!” the old man exclaimed. “Did you lose that much sleep over me?”

  “I slept fine,” Raimie snapped through his glare, a yawn punctuating the last syllable.

  “Whatever you say,” Aramar chuckled.

  “I see you’re bringing Shadowsteal with you,” Raimie loudly interrupted in an attempt to change the subject.

  “I thought it might prove useful even without its rightful bearer. Unless you’d like it back?”

  “Oh no, you take that thing with you, and good riddance!”

  Eledis gripped the wrapped hilt.

  “Thank you for your generosity!” he exclaimed.

  “Don’t mention it,” Raimie mumbled before continuing more confidently. “Are you absolutely certain you want to do this?”

  “Right now, yes, but who knows? Maybe I’ll realize my mistake halfway down the road. Maybe I won’t find passage to my ultimate destination, forcing my return, but maybe I’ll somehow destroy Doldimar and send for the two of you so that I can rub my success in your face,” Eledis laughed at that image. “This is not necessarily goodbye forever. But if it is…”

  His grandfather gathered him in a hug, resting a stubbly chin on top of his head.

  “Thank you. I’m proud of you, and I love you.”

  Raimie balled his hands in fistfuls of Eledis’ tunic underneath the knapsack and squeezed. A few tears fell off of his eyelashes to soak into his grandfather’s clothes, but he wouldn’t allow any other display of sorrow with others watching. He blinked rapidly to clear any leftover moisture from his eyes and stepped away.