Proximaspero

Proximaspero

Prologue

         She had only been dead a week by the time the first thief broke in.  I was only six but I had been taking care of myself for two years; since, it was only grandma and I left.  We didn’t have enough money for a doctor, so we knew we only had to wait till she was dead.
         The rest of the family had already passed.  Each one got sick and died inside of two months.  But, grandma held on for five knowing there was no one left to care for me.  When she finally died I didn’t have the strength to carry her outside, so I left her in the bed.
         Then the thieves came.  The first time I tried to hold the door shut, but it was a wasted effort for he just kicked the door in.  He took all the money, dad’s old legion sword, and some other odd trinkets.  There wasn’t much.  I was powerless to stop him.
         The second thief I tried to fight, but he just beat me until I couldn’t get up.  That’s when I found it was easier to just let them come in and take what they wanted.
         I lived like that for several weeks.  I would wake up in the morning, right the furniture that was knocked over, and throw out what was useless.  Then I would go out and tend the small garden that was out back.  Then do the rest of the chores.  At night, I would hide in the corner by the fireplace while the thieves looted the house.
         One night a person came and decided he would steal the house; and in quick work and several beatings I had lost my home.
         I didn’t know where to go.  The people in town weren’t going to help.  I knew no one who would take me in.  So, I grabbed the few possessions I had hidden out back under a wheelbarrow, and I left.  I, Aricin, was and orphan and homeless.


Chapter One



         Drystan had been working in the forge all day.  His son, Drostan had stopped hours ago from exhaustion.  But that was normal.  It had taken years being and apprentice before he himself was able to build up enough muscle to work a forge for a full day.  His son had just started working with him a month ago on his thirteenth birthday.  In that time Drystan could tell his son wouldn’t become a metalworker like him.  Drostan was too impatient and clumsy to learn the skills needed.
         He hated the idea of having to hire an assistant or recruiting another kid to pass his art onto.  But, at fifty-six years old he needed to think towards a retirement in ten years.
         Drystan closed up the shop and headed to the house.  He hadn’t realized how late it was.  The full moon was shining down upon his big house.  The forge made up most of the bulk.  It was a rebuilt barn, constructed to work as a usable place for his profession; and, the actual house was an addition built against one wall of the forge.
         The house consisted of a large kitchen, a cellar, and three small bedrooms, though only two were in use.  Drystan and his son were the only residents; his wife and first son died when an escaped legion dreki attacked the small town of Cadman, little over a decade ago.
         Drystan had taken his time walking to the front door of the house when he heard it.  There was a rustling noise coming from the side of the house.  Unsure as to what he would encounter he grabbed his hunting bow from the tack just inside the door, and crept over to the edge of the house.
         What he noticed first was the big dog roaming along the edge of his garden.  It was a beauty, at three and a half feet tall and about five feet in length it was easily the largest dog he had ever seen.  But, what was even mare spectacular about the dog was its completely white coat.  The dog was headed in the opposite direction of where Drystan was now standing, but not for long.
         Before the dog would have turned around Drystan came out into full view, took his stance, and drew back on the bow.  He moved fast and quiet; but, even so something had alerted the dog to his presence.  Faster than anything Drystan had ever seen, the dog spun around uttering a warning growl.  That’s when Drystan released, aiming for the heart.  He missed his target but still managed to graze the animals flank.  That’s when he noticed the boy getting ready to throw a fist sized rock.
         The next thing Drystan knew he was waking up with one of the worst headaches he had ever had.  The sun was shining down upon him; from its position he could tell it was early morning.  He sat up and looked around.  At the slightest movement of his head he could feel dried blood cracking and fresh blood flowing into the gaps.
         He got up and walked over to the well to clean the flesh wound and bandage it with his handkerchief.  The wound wasn’t serious, but his pride demanded that he retaliate.  He wouldn’t allow himself to be bested by a boy.  He walked back over to pick up his bow that was lying pressed into the soft dirt where he had fallen on it.  He checked his quiver, tossed the few arrows that had snapped, and secured the rest.
         Drystan noticed the blood trail the dog must have left from the wound his arrow had made.  It would make his job easier of finding the boy.  The trail lead towards the forest a mile off passed the field that marked the edge of town.  The direction surprised him.  He would have thought the boy was from town; it would have been easier to extract revenge if he knew the kid’s father.  A confrontation could have been avoided and a sure and swift punishment would have been dealt.
         He followed the trail which became steadily easier to follow as the animal progressively became weaker with blood loss.  Yet, even so when he reached the forest the trail became harder and harder to follow as the dog’s blood lead him under low logs and through heavy brush.  Not to mention, the numerous streams it had crossed, which made Drystan have to search up and down the bank till he found the blood trail again.  The farther Drystan traveled into the woods the denser it became as the large oaks and maples began to grow closer together.
         Finally, Drystan came to an area less dense than the areas around it.  A stream could be heard nearby.  As Drystan came around the corner he saw the dog.  It was lying on its side nearly fifty yards from the stream.  With the light of the afternoon Drystan could see that the dog wasn’t completely white.  There was a thick stripe of black down the center of its face, starting just before its ears running down to the snout.  The dog’s jaws were large enough that they could grasp a grown man’s midsection with ease.  From the way the dog was laying Drystan couldn’t see the wound his shot had made, but the stillness with which it lay suggested that it had died from blood loss.  But to be sure Drystan moved forward warily, even so with the next few steps Drystan heard a loud crash and he felt the ground below him give way.  He fell into a large pit bottomed with a pile of leaves that softened his fall.  Dazzled, he just sat there thinking about his predicament.  Twice he had been bested by a boy; he couldn’t take it.  It truly showed how old age had crept up on him.  Back when he was in the legions this never would have happened.
         “Don’t hold it against yourself.  I’ve been trapping people for nine years.”  Drystan looked up and saw the boy and dog standing at the rim of the deadfall.  The dog was staring at him with a wolfish grin, tongue lolling out, while the boy looked down at him as if this was the most natural thing in the world.  The boy had long wavy brown hair and Drystan could tell from his slight build of a runner and his height that the boy was around sixteen and from the homemade patched leather trousers and vest he wore over his bare chest suggested he came from a poor family.
         “Oh, you are in for the whooping of your life once I get out of here!” Drystan growled.
         “Then, I guess I’ll just leave you there” retorted the boy.  He turned around and started walking away, but the dog just stood there smiling.
         “Come on Esbern, he’ll cool down in a couple of hours” the boy calmly called out to the dog.  At his words the dog turned and lightly barked in the direction the boy had been headed.  “No, he doesn’t need to be guarded, he won’t be going anywhere.”  With that the dog left, there was the sound of splashing from the stream, and then there was no noise but the sound of the wind through the trees.
         Drystan fumed that the boy could treat an elder like this.  No parent would have been so negligent as to allow their kid to romp around willy-nilly causing chaos.
         His anger simmered over the next two hours.  He pulled out the meager jerky he had left in his pouch that he kept for a snack.  He would have prepared better had he thought this escapade would have taken so long.  Being calm allowed him to notice the obvious.  In his rage he had thought the boy had created this elaborate trap just for him; but, from the size, an extensive eight by four feet perimeter and a depth of twelve feet, there was no way the boy had dug this pit in the time since Drystan had been knocked out.  It would have taken a good day and a half with decent tools, then there was also the time it would have taken to choose the location and become familiar to the landscape.  He wondered what could drive a boy to such lengths as to prepare a pit that could fit four people comfortably.
         Drystan had been sitting in the pit for at least six hours and the sun had already gone down.  He was hungry but thirst was what was bothering him most.  He was starting to worry that the boy wasn’t going to comeback tonight.  But just before Drystan was going to start yelling for him the boy was there.
         “So, have you calmed down?” asked the boy in a bored tone.
         “Yes,” replied Drystan reluctantly.
         “Esbern, rope!” called the boy.  The dog pranced promptly over to the boy, the end of a line in his mouth.  It looked up at the boy’s face.  “Go ahead” chuckled the boy with a loving smile on his face.  The dog dropped the end of the rope down into the pit.  Drostan took a hold of the rope and started to pull himself up hand over hand.  It was a wasted effort since the dog bit down onto a portion of the rope and pulled him up and over the rest of the way.
         Drostan was about to get up but the dog growled and prowled forward.
         “Stay still or Esbern will snap your neck without any hesitation,” there was no threat in the boy’s tone just simple truth.  Esbern moved forward to stand over Drystan and began to sniff him.  Drystan didn’t twitch or move a muscle, though his heartbeat definitely sped up.  When Esbern was satisfied he bent down and gave Drystan one big lick across the face.  This startled Drystan into letting out a roar of laughter which allowed him to release all the tension that had built up over the last two days.  It took a couple of minutes but Drystan finally got himself back under control.  The boy reached out a hand to help Drystan up, which he accepted.
         “Esbern says you have a kind heart, and I trust Esbern completely.  You are welcome to stay and dine with us.  You must be hungry,” said the boy as he turned around to lead, managing to put grace into his speech.
         “Oh, quite!” said Drystan as he began to relax.  “Boy, I will still need to talk to your parents; your punishment must be paid for the disrespect you brought upon me.”  The boy stopped in his tracks.
         “What punishment do you seek?” there was no emotion in his voice and he did not turn around.
         “Five lashes with a switch seem fair, boy” stated Drystan, putting emphasis on the number to let the boy know it was not negotiable.
         “Esbern, stay!” commanded the boy still letting no emotion touch his words.  “Old Man, I have a name, it is Aricin, use it.”  The boy headed over to a young green tree, pulled out a hidden dagger from his vest and cut a thin but firm branch three foot long.  Drystan tensed as he was unsure where this was going.  Aricin turned around finally facing Drystan.  He had to take a step back; the boy’s eyes made his blood run cold.  Drystan had thought the boy’s emotionless tone had been a cover for any fear, shame, or sadness toward the punishment he faced; but the boy’s eyes were empty.  There was no emotion, no humanity, no life in those eyes; it was as if he had taken his consciousness and left his body completely.
         Aricin placed the switch in Drystan’s hand, turned back around, and shrugged out of his vest.
         “Take your punishment,” said Aricin, “Do not worry that Esbern will attack you.  He will stay where he is unless I say otherwise.”
         “Boy, this is…” began Drystan.
         “ARICIN, MY NAME IS ARICIN!  And, if you will not take your punishment now, you never will!” there wasn’t anger in his voice, the volume of his speech just rose.  Drystan didn’t know what to do but strike.
         “CRACK!” went the switch across Aricin’s back.  Esbern whined as if he was the one hit, but Aricin made no noise.
         “CRACK!” sounded the switch.  Louder whining from Esbern.  Nothing from Aricin.
         “CRACK!” the switch split the skin.  Aricin didn’t move nor cry.  He stoop silent as a corpse.  But the whining from Esbern was now constant and unceasing.
         “CRACK!” with each hit, Drystan cried inside.  Something wasn’t right.  But he had set the punishment and Aricin was paying it.
         “CRACK!” blood ran in rivulets down Aricin’s back.  Esbern howled and was then silent.  The switch had snapped with the final hit and Drystan dropped the remains.
         “What is your name?” asked Aricin.
         “It is Drystan the blacksmith, Aricin” whispered Drystan.  Aricin turned around, stooped down to pick up his vest, but didn’t put it on.  He stared up at Drystan.  The boy’s emotionless stare was now replaced with a look of sadness and a single tear fell from one of his eyes.
         “Is the punishment paid?” Aricin’s voice did not waver.
         “Yes.  More than paid” again Drystan’s voice was barely audible.  Something about this night was making him uneasy.  The moon had risen in the time the exchange had occurred.  Then it came to him what was out of place was the silence.  The creatures of the night were speechless.  There was no hoot of the owl, the crickets did not play their music, and even the sound of the stream rushing over the rocks had quieted down to a whisper.
         “Come Drystan let us eat and talk.  Esbern lets go home” and with that Aricin lead boldly through the wood with his dog leaning into him on a path only they knew.


Chapter 2



                Aricin barely felt the stripes he had across his back.  Several years ago Aricin had found that he could close his mind from the outside world and travel the vast world of his mind.  In this state he could sift through his memories with vivid detail, plan with a greater awareness, and explore the feelings that drove him.  But he wasn’t just limited to himself.  He could also roam the world around him.  Without moving his physical body, he could travel almost a mile around himself in any direction.  In this state everything he saw shone with vibrant colors and he could feel the life contained in everything from the metal in the dagger he wore to the trees and streams and even in the very air he breathed.
                The best benefit to closing his mind off was that the pain his body endured came to him as a distant sensation.  The first time he had discovered it was when he was nine.  He had traveled along the Atown River to a large city called Isolde.  He had decided to go there when he had seen the large river island across from the city on a map in a tavern he had been trading furs with.  He had thought then that he would be able to live in seclusion away from the madness of civilization.  But, the reality had been all too different.
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                When Aricin actually made it to Isolde it was just past midnight so he made camp in a clump of trees a quarter of a mile from the town’s edge.  In the morning he went into the town to ask around about the island in the cover of finding a place to sell his furs; that had been the only source of income for him.  What he learned from a trading post was that the island was the property of the count and that his manor lay in the direct center of the island.
                  The information hadn’t been what he had hoped for but he didn’t give up.  For the rest of the day he wandered the streets, familiarizing himself with its layout, waiting for the cover of darkness so he could cross over to the island.  Darkness came and he headed back to the camp he had made the night before.  He collected up all his gear and walked over to the river bank.  Once there he made a small raft out of several small logs he cut to length with his small hatchet that he kept handy and a length of rope he used to secure the logs together.  Then he used a second rope to tie the raft to himself.
                The water was cold with a hint of winter’s chill coming on now that fall was almost over with.  The first couple yards were easy but as he got closer to the middle the current drastically picked up until he struggled to just move several feet.  By the time he finally got across from the northern tip when he originally set off.
                Aricin warily grabbed his slightly damp leather bag and swiftly dashed across the distance between the river’s edge and the forest.  He traveled north just within the tree-line with the thought of finding a camp well enough away from the manor.  He had learned from the trader that the manor was located somewhere in the southern tip.  Aricin traveled three miles without seeing any tracks or trails along the beach before he turned inward away from the shore.  It took nearly three hours before he found a suitable site to make camp.  It was on a small rise with thick tree-coverage around a clearing.  At the base of the hill ran a stream that collected into a small spring about fifty yards off.  There were plenty of game trails that lead away from the spring with fresh droppings that showed plenty of use.
                He set up his camp so that it looked toward the south so he would be able to see anyone who came.  His fire pit was dug so that it was behind the thickest cover and he set up a lean-to tent against a thick oak tree using a patched leather tarp he had been using for over a year.  With the camp set up he was able to let himself fall asleep a couple hours before sunrise.
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         Aricin had been living on the Isle of Isolde for six days before he had been discovered.  He had been hunting a large buck when someone came up and grabbed him from behind.  With his attention completely centered on the deer drinking at the stream two miles from his camp; Aricin hadn’t even heard the hunter stalk up behind him.  His assailant was at least six foot five with a wirery build.  But even though the attacker lacked muscle he was still stronger than Aricin’s nine year old self.
         The attacker grabbed him around the midsection trapping Aricin’s right arm against his side but leaving his left free with the attacker’s other arm he held a black dagger to his throat.  Aricin may have been caught unaware but that didn’t slow his reflexes.  He dropped his bow, placed his right foot behind the attacker’s, and with his left hand grasped the wrist that was holding the dagger his throat.
         When Aricin kicked off the tree on his left he had been using for cover while he was hunting, the attacker tripped on Aricin’s right foot.  And, during the fall Aricin used his left hand to hold the attacker’s weapon arm from cutting his throat with he maneuvered his head out from below the razor sharp dagger.  They slammed into the ground Aricin laying on top the attacker.  The fall had winded his assailant but as an extra precaution Aricin slammed his elbow into the other’s stomach assuring him a second to get up, grab his bow, and take off.
         With his lead Aricin was sure he could outdistance his pursuer; no one so far had ever been able to match his speed when traveling in the forest.  With that in mind he ran the two miles back to his camp using several detours over streams trying to confuse any pursuers tracking him.
         When Aricin finally reached the base of the hill that marked the border of his camp, he was so sure he was ahead of any pursuit that he jogged straight into his campsite without even noticing the armed soldiers rummaging through his possessions.
         Aricin went to turn around when a cry went up, “Seize Him!” by a high pitched male voice.  Aricin got no more than a couple yards off before the ground beneath his feet began to shake and thorny black vines suddenly sprouted up from around him reaching out to grab him.  The vines encircled him gripping tightly to his limbs, thorns lacerating every orifice of his skin.
         Aricin struggled to free himself, breaking a vine here or there.  But, for every vine he broke another three would take its place.  Aricin had no choice but to cease his struggle and wait for his captors, or else be crushed.  Even when he relented the vines continued to tighten, squeezing every breath from his constricted body.  His vision began to darken, the view ahead: a gap between the two pines he had passed on his mad dash to his camp.  Then, before he blacked out, the ghostly image of his dead father.  A large burly bear of a man, with a graying beard and hair, his face was construed into an image of fear and he was beckoning for Aricin to flee.  His prominent jaw mouthing for him to run for his life.
         Then there was nothing but the darkness of an abyss before him.
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“Aricin…  ARICIN!”  Aricin came back to himself with Drystan shaking him by the shoulders.
“What?  Sorry I have a lot on my mind, I didn’t hear you.”
“I was just wondering how far we have to go until we get to your house?” asked Drystan while he looked intently at the young boy before him.  There was so much about him that seemed familiar and yet alien to anything he had ever experienced.
“Not far.  Don’t worry we’ll be there shortly.”  Aricin lead their way through dense patches of forest so close together that Drystan had to squeeze between the trees to be able to continue forward.
         But, Aricin’s words were true, for with ten more minutes of hiking through varying patches of forest they arrived at their destination.  Upon sight Drystan stopped in awe.  What he saw before him was no home, the likes of which, Drystan had ever seen before.  But, more like the dream home of a kid with no one but himself to answer to.  A home, that rose twenty feet into the air, and made of limb and leaf.  Everything appeared to be in pristine order with how nature had intended; there was no trash from the meanderings of a child playing around, no broken branches strewing the ground.  There was the beginnings of a garden along the right hand perimeter of the clearing; a large, but not overly so, fire pit centered at the base of a large oak; upon which, sat a tree house larger than any child would build for passing entertainment.  There was a clear running stream along the backside of the oak that played a melody over the softly warn stones.
         “What do you think?” came the soft voice of the nervous youth behind him.  Drystan faltered to respond.  What he was seeing was amazing, but disturbing.  Where were his parents?  What was this kid doing living here on his own in the middle of the woods?  Too many questions to process all at once in the face of this little world all fitting into one small clearing.
         “It’s amazing… how did you do all this?”
         “With a lot of practice and time.  I have moved around a lot in the short amount of years I’ve been around.  This is the longest I have ever lived in one area before though; and I am happy with how it has been turning out.  How about something to eat?  You must be hungry” said Aricin.
         Aricin proceeded forward to the fire side where he already had a spit positioned with a haunch of venison roasting over it...