The Land: Forging (Chaos Seeds Book 2)

by Aleron Kong

  “There you are! Thought I might have hit you too hard, little guy! Now Sion,” the sprite’s eyes widened. “Yes I know your name. Kurian here was much more cooperative than you were. He told us your name, about the Hearth Tree, AND he told us something else. It was your idea to come and try to steal the results of our hard earned labor.” Kurian was staring at Sion, tears running down his face. His eyes silently begged for his friend’s forgiveness. Sion tried to communicate with his facial expressions that there was no need to even ask. It was clear that the men had been abusive.

  Now that makes you the leader,” Broyin said. “The boss! The shot caller! Him that lays down the law!” The man laughed. “Now as one boss to another, let me take this opportunity to teach you something. It is important for a boss to consider all of the angles. You need to expect the unexpected. You didn’t expect the spiked spider to be in that crate, which is why Kurian here was paralyzed, which is why Rall was able to slam his truncheon into your face. Do you understand?” Broyin looked at Sion’s angry face and smiled.

  “Good! I’m glad you’re listening! Now the next thing you need to know as a boss, is that it is important to keep your men happy. My man Tic over here…,” Broyin indicated one of the other men. “Wave to Sion, Tic. That’s nice. As my mam used to say, good manners cost nothing, but bad manners might cost you your balls. Now where was I? Oh yes! As I was saying, Tic here wanted another show tonight. Earlier, I said no, because I thought it might be wasteful. These animals we caught are precious cargo. BUT!” Broyin walked back over to Sion and stooped down. His voice lowered and his smile turned evil, “We have more options now, don’t we?”

  Standing quickly, the man clapped his hands together, walking back over to Sion’s friend. His voice was magnanimous once again, “Now the next thing I want you to learn isn’t a boss to boss lesson. It’s more of a man to boy type of lesson.” He picked Kurian up by the throat, and removed his gag. The boy struggled to breathe, but still couldn’t catch his breath in with Broyin’s hand tight on his neck. “This lesson is called: ‘If you make a mistake, sometimes others pay the price’,” and with that, he dragged Kurian across the camp, and dumped him into the crevasse.

  There was a moment of stillness, as if The Land itself was taking notice of the atrocity being committed. Then there was a low growl. After that, the night filled with screams. Four of the men ran over with torches to watch the show, hooting and hollering. Not Broyin though. He just stared at Sion the whole time, that evil smile on his face. He watched the sprite struggling to get free, screaming against his gag, threatening muffled curses with one breath and tearfully begging for his friend’s life the next. Through it all Broyin just watched, unmoved and still smiling. Through it all, Kurian screamed Sion’s name, begging his friend to save him.

  The razorling wasn’t starving anymore, so it didn’t rush. Kurian didn’t stop screaming for a full hour. At least that is the way it seemed to Sion. It was hard to tell though. He reached his emotional limit before it was done, like a rag completely rung of water. Though Sion didn’t have the word for it at the time, he later realized he had fallen into a glassy eyed form of shock. Blessedly, the pleading screams of his best friend being eaten alive stopped searing his soul after a time.

  After the Kurian was dead, Broyin came up to him and started talking again. None of it registered to Sion, but several hard slaps later, he was forcefully brought back from the stupor he had retreated to.

  “Stay with me boy,” the man said. The pleasant tone was still in his voice. “It’s time for your final lesson. Are you ready? Good!” He loosened Sion’s gag again. Then he picked the boy up by the throat, holding a torch in the other hand, “Now pay attention because this is the last thing you will ever learn. No one messes w- Gak!” Broyin’s hand loosened its tight hold on the young sprite’s neck.

  Sion looked at him confused, and realized Broyin’s last words had cut off because of the arrival of the arrow that was now protruding through his neck.

  Broyin’s grip slackened further, and they fell apart. Blue streaks struck the other four men in quick succession. Barely any of the men had time to do more than start begging for mercy before a second, then a third volley hit, claiming their lives. The only one left alive was Broyin. Face stuck in a half snarl, half bloody grin, he reached his hand towards Sion’s face. In the flickering light of the dropped torch, Sion could see a small tattoo at the juncture of the man’s index and middle finger. It was a hexagon, with three circles in the center. He couldn’t look away from that small tattoo, while the killer’s hand grew steadily larger in his vision. Sion still felt fear, but more than that he felt a hate that would fester in his soul for many years to come. Past Broyin, he saw a sprite warrior walk up with her weapon raised.

  Sion screamed, “Nooo!”

  Her blade plunged down, and Broyin’s hand fell limp to the ground. His eyes stayed open staring at Sion and at eternity. His mouth kept that same insane bloody rictus. In the days and years following the incident, the story came up from time to time. Some mused that Sion had screamed ‘No’ because he was begging for the man’s life despite what the human had done. Others wondered if he was mad with grief, and had thought the sprite warrior was coming to kill him and not Broyin. He never told anyone that he screamed ‘No’ for one simple reason. He had been hoping the razorling was still hungry.

  CHAPTER 24

  Sion’s mind was back in the present day. The weight of what he had just lived through caused his shoulders to droop, and tears fell down his face. He curled up onto the floor of the tunnel. Alone he wept for remembered pain and forgotten guilt.

  Behind him, there was still only a blank wall. In front of him, was a tangle of roots. They writhed across the entire shaft, stopping any possibility of forward movement. The random motions steadied into the form of an expressive face. He would not have been able to see anything if not for the moss attached to the roots. They gave off a soft green illumination. It was more than enough for him to see his immediate surroundings, but the end of the tunnel disappeared into darkness.

  “Why did Kurian die,” the face asked in a rich, deep voice. The words echoed quietly, fading into a distant rumble. As it spoke, some of the words of the surrounding the banded door appeared in front of him. The glowing blue letters hung in midair:

  The passage of birth is the loss of the womb. The safety of illusion is shattered by the truth of pain. Any being would be crushed, to carry the world on his shoulders. Know thy limitations to transcend them.

  Sion didn’t answer at first. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, he thought over and over.

  “Why did Kurian die,” the voice repeated.

  “What do you want me to say,” Sion asked in a quiet voice.

  “Why did Kurian die?”

  “I don’t know! I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he cried out.

  The face just stared at him, and he heard a forest lark.

  “Sion! Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you I was coming too!”

  Not again! Not again, he thought over and over. Sion’s spirit struggled and fought, but had no more control this iteration of memory than he had the last. He was forced to watch his long lost friend through young eyes again. He relived their halcyon days spent in search of adventure. He sat through the horrors that can come from men’s dark desires. He felt hate again take root in his soul at the agonizing death of innocent Kurian.

  He was back in the tunnel. The blue words hung in front of him.

  “Why did Kurian die?”

  Sion looked up, his tears making streaks in the dirt that caked his face. “I killed him,” he screamed in anger. “My best friend is dead because of me! Is that what you want to hear?”

  The face took on a regretful expression. A forest lark sang. Sion’s eyes grew wide in panic. He raised his hand in protest and entreaty, a shout on his lips. Suddenly though, he was in a forest.

  “Sion! Why didn’t you wa
it for me? I told you I was coming too.”

  “Don’t take so long next time, Kurry,” Sion said laughing. “I heard the hunters say they had seen the humans at the boundary of the territory. Are you ready?”

  Sion’s spirit began to fray as he had to sit through this cruel farce yet again. As he sat vigil over his younger self for a third time, he wondered if he was losing his mind. Was that the point of this latest test? Was it actually a trap meant to wear down the mind and spirit of anyone who dared to try and conquer this dungeon?

  Broyin’s hand fell limp into the dirt, a bloody sneer on his face.

  A deep voice asked, “Why did Kurian die?”

  Sion could barely summon the strength to reply. He knew that he had to try though. Opening and closing his mouth to moisten it, he spoke, “I’ll give you anything you want. Just tell me what to say,” Sion cried softly. “Please! Please just stop!” He tried to put strength into his last words, but it came off as exactly what it was, begging.

  The face stared at him, blue words hovering in the air. Was that a sympathetic expression on its face?

  He smelled decaying leaves. Mud hit the back of his neck. They found a slain deer. Kurian screamed his name, until the sounds he was making turned into wet burbles, which then turned into nothing.

  “Why did Kurian die?”

  Sion’s shoulders slumped, defeated. Did repeating that painful day cause measurable damage to him, or did he feel like this just because of the strain of what he was going? In either case, he had nothing left. Sometime during the last cycle of events he had soiled his real body. Even that didn’t merit an emotional reaction, though. He had lived through Kurian’s death four times, five if you counted the time it had originally happened in real life. The second time had not been easier. The third time was just as wretched, but the fourth removed any hope he had of escape. He felt the emotions just deeply as he had all of those years ago. Kurian’s screams tore at his soul just as painfully, every time.

  “I can’t tell you, but one should have to endure this,” Sion breathed. He didn’t even bother looking at the face. He knew that nothing would stop this so he quietly asked, “Please just let me die.”

  A bird called.

  Sion waited to hear Kurian speak. He thought about an eternity trapped, reliving the worst day of his life in an endless loop. Then he decided to not play this sick game anymore. He couldn’t control what his younger body would do, but he could control how it affected him. If he had to spend time with his best childhood friend, then he would enjoy the experience as much as possible.

  “Sion! Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you I was coming too.”

  Sion finally let himself feel joy at seeing his old friend.

  “It’s good to see you Kurry,” he said with a smile.

  What?!? That wasn’t what he had said! After reliving the events four times in a row, he knew every word, every nuance and inflection. That was definitely NOT what he had said!

  “Okayyy,” Kurian said with a confused expression. “I just saw you an hour ago.”

  Sion lost his focus, confused by what was happening.

  “Don’t take so long next time, Kurry,” his younger self said laughing. “I heard the hunters say they had seen the humans at the boundary of the territory. Are you ready?”

  Kurian looked doubtful, “Yeah. Of course, I am! But maybe we should go tomorrow or the next day. Elder Yamin is making sprangle berry pie today, and-”

  Sion committed to the moment again, “You might be right.” He paused a moment, “I think that I have to go, but you could stay.” He gave a small laugh, “Maybe just save me a slice of pie.”

  Sion didn’t know what was happening, but maybe, just maybe he could save his friend this time.

  Kurian stared at him for a moment, confused that his friend was being so gracious, but also delighted that for once, he might avoid being caught in one of Sion’s hair brained schemes. After thinking it over, though, he just gave Sion a roguish smile, “Naw. Her pie isn’t that great anyway! Let’s go see some humans, haha.”

  Sion’s spirit took a back seat again, and events unfolded the way they always had. As the two boys were walking, Sion wondered how he had forgotten what a troublemaker Kurian had been. At least half of the trouble the two boys had gotten into had been because of something Kurian himself had come up with. Mentally shaking his head, he held true to his decision to stay in the moment. He laughed with his friend, telling funny stories and lame jokes. Unlike the last four times he had relived these days, Sion’s spirit fully committed to sharing the joy of his younger self. He didn’t let the events he knew were coming tomorrow, ruin his proverbial today.

  The two boys came upon the human camp and had to listen to the badger’s violent death. Sion just felt sympathy for his younger self and friend. He stood witness with them as they waited for the men to fall asleep. They ran from the camp, and his younger self grabbed the other sprite.

  “Stop Kurian!”

  “What,” his friend hissed back. “Why? We need to get away from here!”

  Every other time, Sion’s spirit had tried to force his younger self’s body into actions that would have been unnatural at that age. Sion decided not to make the same mistake again. He thought he finally understood.

  This time, he immersed his spirit in the moment. He embraced the feeling of fear that was making his younger self’s heart hammer almost audibly. He admitted to himself that he was ashamed that he had just sat by while that badger had been tortured. By surrendering to the pull of events, he found the strength to change them slightly.

  “I feel horrible about what those men are doing,” young Sion said.

  “I do too,” Kurian said panting.

  “I can’t just let it happen. I’m going to sneak back and try to free the animals.” Sion paused, “Those men need to be stopped, though. Maybe you should run back to the Hearth Tree, and alert the warriors.” Sion’s spirit held its virtual breath. Was he really about to save his friend?

  Kurian’s face was torn with indecision. He looked in the direction of the sprite community and then looked back towards the humans’ encampment. He was clearly wrestling with what he should do, but then his face firmed. He looked Sion directly in the eye.

  “No,” Kurian said, shaking his head. “I was feeling the same way. Honestly, if you hadn’t said something, I was probably going to speak up in a few minutes. Like the Hearth Mother always says, it is our duty to protect the forest and its creatures. I’m going back with you.”

  “You don’t have to,” young Sion said. His spirit was silently pleading for Kurian to just keep walking away. He literally couldn’t say any more though.

  “Of course I do,” Kurian said with his rakish grin. “We meet every danger together til death. Or have you forgotten the oath we swore under the Hearth Tree?”

  Sion’s spirit reeled with shock. He had forgotten! There was no oath more serious for their people. Years before the events Sion’s spirit was being forced to relive, the two boys had drawn blood from their fingers and mixed it with the dirt beneath the Hearth Tree. Then they had sworn eternal friendship and allegiance, with the earnestness that only children can produce. Their mothers had tanned their hides when they found out they were making oaths at such a young age, but it hadn’t deterred them. THAT was why Kurian always followed Sion on his adventures, and why Sion did the same when the situation was reversed.

  The two boys started walking towards the camp. The following events played out as scripted. They were still captured. Kurian was still tortured before death, and hate still wormed its way into Sion’s young heart. A hate that would ultimately lead him to let a good man be eaten alive while he stood by and did nothing. The outcome had not changed. For the first time, though, Sion realized that maybe changing history wasn’t the point of… whatever this was. Perhaps the point was to change who he was in the present.

  “Why did Kurian die?”

  Si
on was laying on the floor of the tunnel. He couldn’t seem to scrounge up the will to move. Or maybe he lacked the strength. The distinction didn’t seem important right now. His lips were sore, and when he ran his tongue over them, they felt like dried meat. When he first tried to respond, only a squeak came out. The face made of roots seemed to understand that he was trying, and didn’t repeat itself. It merely waited. Sion was in a daze and nothing seemed quite real. He became aware that both his health and stamina bars were perilously low. There was an icon that looked like a pile of salt next to each of them.

  He mustered the strength to drink one of the healing potions Richter had given him. He barely had any rise in his health bar. The portion of the bars that weren’t filled with color weren’t just empty. They looked greyed out like nothing could fill them. When he examined the pile of salt icon, he learned what it meant. He was dehydrated. He was literally dying of thirst. Sion knew he wouldn’t survive another cycle of memories, but he accepted that.

  Even though he was still impossibly weak, he tried to sit himself up. That did not work out well. When he regained consciousness, he realized that he must have passed out from the strain. After that, he decided that he could give his answer lying down. He raised his head slightly and saw that the face was still looking at him. The health potion had at least served to moisten his mouth.

  “Why did Kurian die,” Sion repeated. “He died because he and I were too dumb to listen to our elders. He died because we put ourselves in a dangerous situation. And he died, because we were unlucky enough to stumble across evil men. My best friend died because of who I was, and because of who he was, and because sometimes things just fall apart. It doesn’t matter why he died. What matters is that I will remember him.” He mustered his remaining strength for what could be his last words. “So you do whatever you need to do. It does, not, matter, why my friend died. It matters how he lived.”