Novel Lachryma: The Lord of The Unreachable Tower & The Child Walking The Bleak Path

Synopsis:
Lachryma: The Lord of The Unreachable Tower & The Child Walking The Bleak Path is an epic saga featuring many fantasy and catastrophic elements, including towering beasts, terrific mounts, forbidden dungeon, overpowered artifacts, orcs, elves, humans, armies and so forth.

Behold all these through the eyes of this indomitable child, Chronoth.

Genre: High Fantasy, Adventure, Action, Drama, Medieval, Survival
Content Warning: Gore

Table of Contents:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

 

PROLOGUE


I knew you would come and read this. And I have no regret writing this for you, even doing so will have me sentenced to death. I have no regret, even they would be so kind as what they claimed, that they will not kill me but drive me to insanity by stabbing my every organ and healing them and stabbing them to blood again. That they will make me suffer the gruesome pain eternally.

I still remember how they treated my kidneys and lungs last time. That the repeatedly excruciating pain induced by them almost shattered my very last piece of humanity. Death would be a relief for me. But I have no regret now, do not be afraid, please.., my dearest one, even the world seems hopeless.

You must remember you must not give up your last hope. Even everything seems hopeless now, you must not give up the last hope. You must not give up the hope which keeps you alive.

I must go now. Before they found out what I did, I must go. I must go and meet him. To meet he-who-shall-not-be-awakened. I knew I would probably not survive. It’s absurd to think that I could even stand a chance in that mortiferous realm. But I have no regret, even if I die right at the door of The Unreachable Tower, I have no regret.

Know this and remember this always, that I love you.



From

The one who always cares for you and willingly die for you

Your father

Kronosh

 

Chapter 1


“Faster, Chron!” Misha shouted, waving at her brother while bouncing up and down in excitement.

Golden rays sloped down in the wood, striping its countless leaves and trunks.

“Why are you so slow?” She continued, pouting her lips. “Slow sleepy brother. Slow slow sloooooooowwww.”

“Watch your steps, Misha,” Chronoth replied with a worried tone. “Stop running please.”

“Yeah and why would I?” Misha grinned, turning twice, gently stopped and challenged him with her clear intelligent eyes.

“You’re gonna get yourself another trip if you’re not careful,” Chronoth sighed, visibly anxious while warning his sister. “Don’t be too hasty, Misha.”

Chronoth knew it was understandable though, since she was two years younger than him.

“And you’re worried about that? A few bruises? Do you think I am a fancy little girl spoiled by some sort of wealthy parents?” Misha pouted, both hands clutching her waist with an upset look.

A soft light embraced her, brightening up her round pretty face.

No but I want to protect you, my sister. You should not be hurt anymore. Chronoth forcefully swallowed those words back into his throat, inevitably suffering a rebellious cough.

“It’s always wiser for us to move with caution, Misha,” he continued slowly, clearing his voice. “Especially in such a place. Remember, peace is always the ally of the cautious, but danger the predator of the hasty.”

“Yet opportunities always befriend the swiftest,” Misha snorted, rolling her eyes. “And fresh food for the early, not the late, don’t you agree dear brother?” Misha grinned, slowly shaking her index finger at Chronoth who was at the moment suffering from a loss of words.

“You do have a cavern of wise words, Chron,” Misha continued, giving her brother a wide cheeky smile. “But no lecturing today, ya? If we do not hurry, we’ll miss out a lof of fun exploring the hidden part of this wood! So be quick! Quick. Quiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick or I will never come out with you anymore. Never never never.” She gave him another pretentious pout.

“Whatever you said...,” Chronoth smiled, knowing that he really had to hurry up this time. Not coming out with him anymore? No joke. Misha might really mean it this time, for this was about the 50th time she had said the same thing. She might have finally lived up to her words, who knows?

“Look, Chron!” Misha suddenly gasped, eyes wide staring at something.

She seemed extremely curious.

“What is it?” Chronoth couldn’t help but become a little worried, the last time she had said this was when she discovered something unforgettable. Some sort of peculiar mushrooms, with bizarre caps looking like many types of frilly fancy shellfish. She said they looked incredibly cute. And harmless. Without even a chance to dissuade her she already had him carry a large bunch of them back home. Back to Mum, as part of their dinner’s ingredients. And their mum, a knowledgeable and educational lady, happily obliged her without a thought.

But to Chron’s surprise, those mushrooms were wonderfully delicious. He had never tasted something so delectable before. It was soft, juicy, overflowing with a seafoodlike flavour.

And it almost killed them three. Yes, three dead bodies found in their house next day --- if their stomachs were not strong enough to expel those toxics by giving them a one-whole-day punishment. Literally one whole day, three moaning individuals crawling back and forth in the house, begging for mercy.

“Over here, Chron!” Misha snapped him back to reality while waving at him, quietly urging him to come closer.

“What?” Chronoth raised one of his eyebrows, fully suspicious of what she was up to.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Misha reproved, placing one finger on her mouth. “Stupid, don’t make a sound!” she hissed.

Without further ado, Chronoth carefully advanced and moved to Misha’s side, slowly crouching down next to her. She seemed really excited. With caution she slowly directed Chronoth’s gaze towards somewhere ahead of them. There, on a place not faraway, in fact quite nearby, was a lush beautiful clearing. On that green clearing sat a yellow thing. A heavy thing. A ginormous thing.

A fascinating bird. It was like a giant version of a chick. Only that its head was much chubbier. It seemed sleeping, or taking a lazy rest in this peaceful place. A shaft of morning ray seemed to welcome its presence, gilding many of its feathers into gentle glows.

“Why is it so fat?” Misha tried to stifle a laugh, curious of its shockingly overgrown size.

“It might have a large appetite,” Chronoth guessed in awe. “Or maybe a sweet beak? It must have eaten a lot of sweet berries, grapes, honey or tall, extravagant cakes,” he smiled, making Misha giggle. The cute obese bird seemed to amuse Chronoth as well.

“Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrk!” Suddenly the bird made a sound, squawking aloud while flapping its wings.

A movement making both of them jerk. It seemed to reprove them for ridiculing its uncommon size. But the motion vanished as sudden as how it came. Soon the bird restored itself to the initial pose, its chubby head half-sinking back to its chest. Dozing and snoring again. It seemed to thoroughly enjoy itself in the shaft of golden sunshine amidst the ragged shadows. As though nothing had happened. Happy and lazy to care about a thing of this world.

The two, of course, wondered at its sudden noise but soon chuckled again as they noticed the bird slowly melted back to its chubby form. Chronoth was, in fact, more amazed than Misha at this unexpected encounter. For he knew what the bird was. It was Bumble Wind. A fable tale bird thought to be mythical. He had no idea why this creature would suddenly appear in this little wood.

“Do you think Mum would like to meet him?” Misha turned at Chronoth, eyes gleaming with excitement. Obviously brewing up some sort of mischievious idea.

“Of course she would,” Chronoth said without a doubt, slightly scratching his cheek. Mum would not like to meet him. Mum would love to meet him. He had no idea what mischief would these two females up to. Not that the creature seemed harmful, though.

Till now Chronoth still couldn’t figure out why Mum seemed more like a girl than a grown woman. Although she had aged over 35, she would obliged Misha whenever she came up with a silly or impish idea. The two were like a shenanigans team, always bringing troubles to the village but also laughters and cackles to the young and old.

“Let’s finish picking the herbs and return to Mum the soonest possible we can, shall we?” Misha smiled with glinting eyes, clearly unable to wait to see the expression of Mum and what silly idea she would come up with after witnessing this chubby bird.

Chronoth sighed. “Sure, let’s –“

“What are you two looking at?” Suddenly a voice rattled them from behind.

It was not loud but a little too abrupt. Yet Chronoth and Misha did not feel overly scared. For they seemed to recognize the voice. Granular, sandy and familiar.

Chronoth whirled back to make sure it was the very person he assumed. And indeed it was. No doubt about it. Their kind and broad-built neighbour, Mr. Frank. He had come to the wood as well.

He stood tall, peering at them who were lying prone about ten feet ahead. Misha rejoiced at the sight of him. She quickly got up, brushed away her dirt, and scuttled over to meet him.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Mr. Frank! Don’t make a sound! Hush but riddle time! Do you know what did we see and –”

She stopped halfway, suddenly shocked. Confused.

Bewildered.

“Get away from him, Misha!” Chronoth shouted in a sudden great fear, springing to his feet and rushing over to Misha’s side, all the while hoping not to startle the giant bird behind. As soon as Misha had noticed, he had noticed too.

“Chro.., Chronoth…,” Mr. Frank stuttered, slowly approaching them.

Something was not right. Somethig was really, really not right.

His expression. His movement. His face.., the colour of his face. Something was wrong.

“Misha.., your.., your brother was right.., don’t.., don’t get near to me..,” he smiled in a very unpleasant way.

Upon finishing his words, he abruptly slumped, sprawling to the ground. In the process stirring up leaves and dried flowers. Branches quivered, shedding some fresh foliage down to the little quake.

And it was revealed. Something was stuck on his back. Something dreadful. Something unforgiving. It was a large hatchet. Heavy and glittery. The horrendous weapon had buried itself deep into his back. Drawing up blood like a small spring.

It was not like any hatchet they had seen before. It seemed much, much larger than usual. Blood pooled out from his back, slowly spidering to his front at the moment.

Upon seeing his wound, Chronoth immediately darted, flying to his side and subsequently kneeling down to get hold of him.

“Stay.., stay awake Mr. Frank! What.., what had happened?” he shook him in a gentler manner, unknowing what to do. For his mind was abruptly blank. The wound seemed too severe. Too deep. Too terrific. Too much blood.

Too much blood.

“Tho.., those monsters. They.., they had come for us.., run.., Chronoth.., run.., please..,” Mr. Frank clutched his arms, trembling and speaking strugglefully. His lungs whistling in a horrible way due to the shortness of breath.

“We.., we will not abandon you..,” Chronoth said in a crumbling certainty. Part of his clothes were dyed red. Hot, crinkled and sticky. His two hands full of blood. Warm and waxy. It was like a dream.

Mr. Frank was laughing and chatting with them this morning. He had even made a cheeky remark on Chronoth, making Misha giggle and Chronoth blush before the two left their village for the wood.

“Foo.., fool….,” Frank spoke on.”Ru... Run back to the village pl.., please, Chro.., Chronoth, an.., and.., and alert them..,” he stammered, begging Chronoth’s desperately. Blood constantly pooling out from his mouth, slowly streaming through his cheeks. “Ig….. Ignore me, r.., run…, ple.., please…., run…...”

Frank did not care about himself. He never cared about himself. He always thought about others first. Another reason stopping Chronoth from leaving him to death. Although Frank had a very tall and intimidating body, he was in reality unreservedly kind. He loved spending time with the poor. And he always worked extra hard to provide for his family. To make sure they didn’t starve by submerging himself in all the labour and toil. Whenever children had a problem, he was always there to help, to laugh and even lament with them. Children loved him, too.

“Sta.., stay awake please Mr. Frank..,” Chronoth knew what to do. He knew he had to rush back to the village and alert all the villagers at once for whatever danger told by Frank. But he could not just leave, this could be this man last moment. He admired this man. Frank had treated Misha so well, so well that Misha always felt comfortable to make fun of him. They were like Father and daughter. Of all adults apart from Mum, Misha found him most affable.

And she was now holding Frank as well, clothes and hands profusely dyed red by his blood. She stuttered in a desperate voice, telling him not to give up. Tears rolling down her blood-smeared cheeks touched by Frank.

“Ru…... Run..., Misha..., an.., and.., thank you fo…, for bringing so much joy to my kids…, pl…, please tell my wife an.., and my children th.., that…., I…, I love them.., I.., I re.., real.…, really love them….., I wish I..., I could…..” Without finishing his words, his hands suddenly plunged, crashing down to the reddened grass. Misha cried aloud.

Chronoth immediately dragged his sister away and tried to assure her that Frank might have just fallen unconscious due to blood lost. Although that might really be the case, he certainly could not hold much longer. Misha soon sprinted after her brother, darting through the wood. Whizzes, gusts and swift snaps of twigs. Chronoth knew time was running out. He must get back to the village now. He must seek medical help for Frank, even if the hope was too bleak.

And if Frank did not survive, he must alert the villagers. So his sacrifice was not in vain.

Chronoth still remembered well of what Frank had told him.

Horribly well.

“Those…, those things.., they…, they are coming for us……, th..., they…, they are coming…..…”

 

Chapter 2


“Misha follow me close please! We’re gonna fly out of this wood!” Chronoth cried over his shoulder, to Misha who was at the moment having a hard time catching up his speed.

While running and leaping, Chronoth tried to unravel his confused mind. Mr. Frank was certainly assaulted by some sort of monsters. And they carried weapons. Proving those things were quite intelligent. They had certainly come in groups or pairs. And with preparation.

Far more dangerous than huge hungry beasts.

It might be too late. Their village might have already been assailed. A horrible vision suddenly bloomed fiery in his mind. Houses blazing. Villagers being stabbed. Children caged and carried away. Fodders combusting. Roofs furiously ablaze. And more adults being butchered by axes. Viciously hacked into pieces. Widows screaming. And burning, burning, and ---

“Chron watch out!” Misha yelled, warning him in a sudden cold of fear. And Chronoth instantly shot left, dodging a stooping branch full of sharp twigs --- something capable of slashing open his throat if he did not dodge on that last moment.

With gratitude and fear he focused back on the obstacles appearing in his view. He knew Mr. Frank had certainly come to them with his great steed, judging of how he was wounded yet still able to escape those monsters. Yet his horse might have already abandoned him, as he was seen alone when approaching them two. Certainly the hope to ride his fast steed back to the village was already gone.

But everything was not in vain. As there was still one horse left. The one waiting for them from where they had entered the wood. Their slower, far younger but loyal mount.

As the trees grew less and less, they saw something ahead of them. And there it was, their unfailing hope. Their faithful friend. Their horse, Tucker. As soon as Tucker saw them, he neighed long and happy, sneezing impatiently for them to come over. To Chronoth’s relief, there was not a sight of lofty black smoke when they were out into the vast grassland. There was not a sight of monsters. Nor was there any sight of dangerous threats or disturbing scenes.

Everything seemed fine. But Chronoth knew he must not let his guard down. This could be a thin ice of peace before the raging storm. He must hurry. Without further ado he hopped onto the horse, helping Misha up. And off they galloped, racing with the strong screaming winds and all the way back to their village.

Back to Stone Hearth.



* * *



Someone waitng outside of the village pointed at Misha and Chronoth as he saw the two emerging from the waving green field.

“It’s Chronoth and Misha! Call others! Somebody get their mum! Patrick and William, where are you?” the villager, Russell, gave a booming shout, alerting others behind him while trying to get some adults to come over and help.

“Mr. Russell! Ignore us we are fine!” Chronoth shouted as he approached. “But please alert all the villagers at once! Please do now! Danger is coming! We must act now or doom will be upon us!” He immediately leapt down from the horse as it came to a stop, while letting others to gently help Misha dismount.

“Calm down Chronoth! Someone get medicine men! They were wounded!” Russell cried out to the rest, terrified by his and Misha’s blood-dyed clothes.

“We’re fine we’re not hurt! The blood is not ours! It’s..., it’s Mr. Frank’s!” Chronoth replied desperately, trying to suppress his sorrow bursting all the way up with great force. “He sacrificed himself to alert us! He was lying near Herb Haven, inside the wood! Please send someone to help him! He.., he might have lost his life.., but ple…, please!” Chronoth clutched Russell’s arms. Trembling and desperate.

“Patrick and William, on to your horses! To Herb Haven now!” Russell cried, asking help from his fellow neighbours. He was like a chief of the village. “Bring a medicine man with you please! Frank is in grave injury! Hurry away and save him! We are counting on you!” Without another word Patrick and William sprang onto their horses, helping another man up and immediately darted, galloping away with fading thuds.

“Mr. Russell please alert all the villagers now!” Chronoth said aloud, regiving the warning entrusted by Frank. “Now or everything would be in vain! Some sort of monsters are coming towards us! Some sort of intelligent beasts! We must get help or everything would be too late!”

“Be calm, Chronoth,” Russell replied in worries, letting others guide Tucker back to his real owner. Back to George, who’s always happy to lend Chronoth his dear horse, as though it was theirs.

“We have received similar news,” Russell continued, leading Chronoth and Misha to the centre of Stone Hearth, of where their mother was on her way to meet them. “But we fear.., we fear things might be too late.” Russell said in great distress. “They came fast. We could not believe it was them. They have betrayed us. They have fooled us. They have betrayed the promised peace….”

Chronoth blinked, “They..? You know them? Who.., who are you talk—”

“Misha, Chron!” a worried yet familiar voice suddenly called out on them, grabbing all of their attention.

“Mommy!” Misha immediately responded, rushing towards the source of the voice.

It was indeed their mum, Rachel. A ginger-haired and young looking lady. Though already in her 30’s, she seemed to be in her 25.

“Mommy we’re looking for you! Are you all right?” Misha said in concern, hugging her mum.

“I am all right of course! Dear! Are you both hurt?” Rachel, giving Misha a deep hug in return, turned to Chronoth, asking in worries.

The same worries she had for Misha.

“Mum we’re all right,” Chronoth replied in guilt. “The blood is not ours…, it’s from Frank. It’s…, it’s all his blood,” he continued in a far greater remorse. He hoped...., he truly hoped the blood was not Frank’s.

But his.

He himself’s.

It should be his.

Frank should not have suffered such a harrowing assault. Unlike him, Frank was a good man.

“Frank? Dear! How was he? Was he badly wounded?” Rachel said in concern.

“Do not worry, Rachel,” Russell interrupted, knowing to recount the details again might be too much for the children. “We have sent help. William and Patrick are on their way. Frank is a strong man, he would not die easily. Have trust in him Rachel,” he continued in a firm voice.

“Of course I would!” Rachel replied at once. “Frank is never weak, he must have survived., wouldn’t he..?”

“M.., Mr. Russell, ma.., may I speak to his family?” Chronoth gently interrupted and asked in distress.

“You.., you sure...., Chronoth?” ..….May I know why…?” Russell replied, unconsciously blinking his eyes. It was not easy for a teen like him to speak with the grieving.

“Yes..., Mr. Frank has entrusted Misha and me some words,” Chronoth said firmly. “We need to tell them.”

“You may.., if that was your wish. I have no reason to stop you,” Russell replied in wonder, somehow surprised by his bravery. “News was being sent to his family. You may talk with them soon..”

“Thank you….”

The centre of the village soon grew into a clamour, people debating and talking aloud of what might happen to their homes. The fear of facing the unknown terrified them. Yet to their surprise, the answer soon came. The revelation. The breaking dawn.

“En... Enemies incoming! Or…. Orc…. Orcccs!!” A desperate, booming cry suddenly alarmed all of them. It was Sam, the news bearer and amateur scout of their village. He bolted in from outside of the village, running and panting in a breath-killing haste.

“Orcccs!! Orcs are coming!!” same news suddenly erupted from different parts of Stone Hearth, birthed by other desperate voices. Other similar scouts. “Orcs are coming! Flee! Flee!” Soon the village disintergrated into chaos, people bolting and shouting, women hugging their children with despairing howls and husbands urging their families to escape. Some desperately armed themselves with farming tools. Hoes, sickles, rusted rakes or whatever things they could find.

“There was nowhere to flee!” Sam suddenly cried with all his might, booming skywards and drowning out all other noises. He seemed too desperate to warn others. He seemed unstable. Thoroughly crushed by despair. “We have.., we have been beleaguered! We have been beleaguered! They have surrounded us! The army…, the army has surrounded us!”

“Peter and Eugene were no more!” other scouts cried aloud. “They.., they were caught.., they were caught and being dissected to pieces alive…. Blood.., blood spraying out of all their body parts!” One of them involuntarily broke down, lamenting for his comrades.

“Why is the reinforcement not coming yet?” The scout, Joe, questioned in disbelief and extreme anger. “Why is the king not sending out his armies? There was not a sight or news of his armies! Why? We have been so loyal to the kingdom! We… We have been paying them tax! We have been paying so much tax! Why…, why did they choose to abandon us..?”

Many cowered in terror when they heard the reinforcements were not being sent, others breaking down in tears and screams.

Their last hope suddenly no more. They had been deceived. Exploited, wrung dried and deserted.

“It.., it was true,” Rachel suddenly mumbled, remembering something terrifying.

Something more terrifying than orcs.

“Mo... Mommy.., wh.., what was true?” Misha heard the faint words, growing even more worried.

“It.., it was all true..,” Rachel seemed not noticing Misha’s word, mumbling to herself in extreme fear. “Wh…., why? It.., it should have passed. I.., I have been so observative..,” she said, trembling. “I have been so alert..., wh.., why?” Her pupils dilated, as though she couldn’t hear others speaking to her.

“The orcs would betray the peace..,” she continued in a daze, trembling while speaking incoherently to others. “And they would beleaguer us.., and they would slaughter us.., and the kingdom would forsake us.., an.., and.., and we are the first place to be invaded..,” she stuttered out what was at the moment troubling her mind.

“It’s.., it’s all true...,” she spoke in an uncontrollable dread. “They are coming.”

“Th.., they? Mu… Mum.., did you mean the orcs?” Chronoth asked in bafflement, trying to understand what his mum had just murmured.

“No.., orcs are but nothing to them,” Rachel shook her head. “Orcs are but small and insignificant to them. They are the devourers of continents..…. They are destruction,” Rachel said. “It had begun. They are coming. Those things are coming. Ru.., run.., Chronoth and Misha.., they.., they are coming.”

“What.., what are coming.., Mum?” Misha asked in a freezing fear. This was not the mum she knew.

“The things,” Rachel replied. “It has begun to happen. They cannot be stopped. Those things cannot be stopped. Run.., Chron.., take Misha.., and run..,” she said. “We could not escape, but you can. I trust in you, Chron. You can escape. You must escape. With Misha.”

Rachel knew she must let them go now. She couldn’t be selfish. They must go now. They must leave. Only.., only that she couldn’t control her emotion. She might not see them again.

No. She would certainly not see them again.

“Lis.., listen..,” Rachel clutched Chronoth’s left shoulder and Misha’s right. “There.., there is something I must tell you two,” she stammered slowly, trying hard to keep her voice clear and in control. “I.., I am sorry I have been furious at both of you in several occasions, but please understand.., please.., listen.., please..,” she paused, gazing at them with full affection as though she was taking her last few breaths.

“I love you two, Chronoth and Misha..., I truly love you both,” she continued, eyes gleaming with heavy moisture. “You two were like the greatest treasure gifted by God. And I thank God I have you. I thank God that you two have come into my life. Words cannot describe how much I love you..., and I wish..., I wish I could be with you two always...…, I truly wish so....,” she said truthfully, a tear rolling down her dust-smeared cheeks.

“Mu.., mum.., wh.., why are you saying this all of a sudden?” Misha interrupted, unable to hold back her tears. She felt love but also fear from her mum. An unexplainable fear. A deep fear.

The fear of losing each other.

“Misha.., come here.., please,” Rachel asked her daughter to come closer, soon giving her a deep hug.

“I have said it and would say it again,” she tried her best to smile at her, unable to stop her rattling heart. “I love you, Misha. You are like a little imp but also the best daughter I could ever have,” she said. “And I cherish you. I could never let you suffer again. Never. Even with the sacrifice of my own life.”

“Mo.., mommy..,” Misha stared at Rachel, touched but immensely troubled.

“Chron..,” Rachel released Misha, turning to Chronoth. “I have always been so unfair. Always showing more love to your sister. But know this.…., please.., that I love you as much as I love Misha. Forgive me Chron.., forgive me for not giving you the love you deserve.....”

You are the best mother I could have ever had. I am the one who should ask for forgiveness. Not you. Mum. Not you…

Chronoth did not say what he uttered aloud mentally. “M.., mum.., stop talking like this,” he said other words instead, unable to pour out what was at the moment speaking deep inside his heart. “There’s still time. Let us ru…., ru…, r….”

“Calm down! All of you!” The village chief, Alexandrov, finally came into the centre of Stone Hearth and boomed, inundating the voices of all the villagers. He was at the moment not only speaking to the three, but others as well. In an effort to rally every villager. “Fear not and panic not! Be strong, my dear Stone Hearthians! Listen to my words! Be courageous. Be brave! We are not cowards but warriors! We are not awaiting the slaughter but the slaughterers! Remember, we are not the timid but the terror! Do not forget how many challenges we have faced and crushed and conquered and this is but another stepping stone for us to triumph over!”

“Be fearless!” Alexandrov continued, currently standing about 12 feet away from Rachel. “Be ready and grab whatever weapons you could find! Orcs are coming to take our homes and children and wives! Are we going to let them take whatever they want?”

“No!” Many villagers cried aloud, valour and fury gradually awakened by their chief.

“Are we going to kneel here and let them slaughter us like sheep?”

“No!”

“Aye! Be valiant and grab your weapons now!” Alexandrov thundered. “We shall show them what we truly are! We shall show them no mercy! We shall skin them! We shall kill them! And kill them! And kill them! And –”

A ground-shaking blast.

The earth shuddered. It was a projectile hurled by an outlandish catapult. Hurled by the faraway orcs.

And it exploded right in the centre of the village.

Right on Alexandrov.

And he’s gone. Bursting into blood and bones.

The impact was so great that it blasted away Chron, Misha, Rachel and others listening near to the chief, at the same time shattering several standing right next to him.

Chronoth suddenly felt afloat on the ground. He felt his arms and feet abruptly gone. He felt the sky turning above him. And he felt deaf, seeing others shouting tearfully but not hearing a word from them.

Without a long halt, others projectiles swooped in, explosing across the village. The ground shook, villagers running and screaming in extreme terror. Chronoth tried his best to crawl to his feet, fighting against the stubborn numbness and spinning surroundings.

Dust fogging the houses. Smokes pillaring up. Little flames bellowing and spitting. Soon a sound like whistling wind began to enter Chronoth’s ears and unclog his canals and before long his hearing was fortunately revived. With all his might he clung to a timber support and slowly got back to his feet, panting and staggering. To his relief, he found Misha leaning against him, clutching his arm and puffing in fear.

But something abruptly captured his full attention. Something tall. Something unnerving. As soon as a storm of dust gave way ahead of Chronoth --- revealing something great like sliding curtains --- the figure appeared. He stood unmatched. Untouchable. And Chronoth knew who he was. Their worst enemy. Their worst nightmare.

Orc.

Great, towering and muscular.

With two short tusks jutting up from his mouth.

The orc warrior slowly advanced, moving his gaze and before long spotted Chronoth and Misha. Without paying the slightest attention to others, he trudged towards the two, slowly rising his massive double-axe. To Chronoth’s horror, he was not targeting the adults around him. But them two. The orcs wanted to kill children first.

Their priority. Murdering children first.

The matte-green orc had only one eye, the other marred. Blind. Crossed by a short scar on his savage face. Chronoth and Misha froze. They knew they had to run. They had to. Now or never. But the gleaming eye seemed to petrify them, having them rooted deep to the ground.

But something happened on that moment. Something horrific. The orc could suddenly move no more. To the orc’s surprise, he found himself suddenly unable to walk forwards.

Someone was clutching him. With two arms. Not a muscular man. Not a brave hero. Not a strong soldier.

But a female.

A mother.

Rachel.

Rachel had hurled herself and locked the orc in with her two arms, using all her strength.

“Run! Two of you!” she cried, urging them to flee.

“Mommy!” Misha cried in horror, clasping Chronoth hard, who was at the moment stunned by what he saw.

“Run! Now! Run! Please!” she begged aloud, knowing this couldn’t last long.

The orc seemed unbothered, continued walking forwards while dragging Rachel, yet quite surprised by how his speed was greatly slowed down by her. A great strength. An unexplainable strength. Feeling a little annoyed, he reached his hand to another weapon handy to be used if he wanted to get rid of an opponent too close to him. And he drew the weapon out.

A sharp, broad, gleaming dagger. And all of a sudden he stabbed Rachel.

Hard.

Deep and hard.

And blood.

Blood spreading out.

 

Chapter 3


Chronoth and Misha screamed, hearts exploding in dread.

Despite the fatal blow, despite the agonizing pain, despite the dripping blood, Rachel did not let go. She would not let go. She would never ever let go. Despite it all.

“Chron.., Misha.., for.., forgive me…,” she smiled, enduring the insane pain. Smiling… Pure, and without hatred. “Run.., be cheerful…, sta.., stay alive.…”

The orc soon grew exasperated. He suddenly cocked his dagger, rejabbing it into her abdomen. Chronoth bellowed in tears, screaming and running at the cold-blooded orc while Misha did about the same. But the two of them were suddenly lifted up by something. To their surprise, they were abruptly carried away by a force. The force of arms.

Four arms. It was George, the horse owner and his long-time friend, Lewis.

“Le… Let me go! Let me go!” Chronoth and Misha struggled, crying aloud, yelling at the two adults to release them.

But George and Lewis did not comply. Despite their hitting and kicking, the two men continued running, bearing them along the way. They hurtled down the main dirt path, passing many villagers who were at the moment battling with countless orc warriors while eruptions of blood and horrific screams bursting out without cessation.

Soon the four reached the place with the sight of a familiar mount, Tucker, their brave loyal horse. He was at the moment reined by a long rope, neighing and rearing up at the sight of them.

George promptly calmed his horse and set Chronoth and Misha on the saddled top, urging them to fly. But the two did not obey, struggling to get down and rushed back to their mum.

And a slap.

A strong sudden slap on Chronoth’s cheek stupefied Misha. George regretted, he had exerted the force too hard, which seemingly making the boy’s nose bleed. Still, he yelled at Chronoth.

“Calm down Chron! Your mum.., your mum is no more!” he cried, heart jabbed with extreme pain. “But your sister is! So protect her! Protect her and run!”

Chronoth stared at him, unable yet slowly forced to accept the fact.

“Run and do not look back!” George cried. “The village is surrounded! But I trust you can cut through the siege! You never failed me! And I know you won’t! Tucker is your horse now! He is yours from now on! So stay alive, two of you! Fly and stay alive!”

Heart hewn, Chronoth immediately turned away. Pulling the rein he skilfully smacked it on Tucker, releasing the horse into a flying long bolt. While sprinting like a wind Chronoth and Misha turned back, watching George and Lewis as a large orc abruptly leapt out, felling the surprised George with his huge double-axe and subsequently wrestling with Lewis.

Blood spraying with despairing cries.

With full speed Tucker flew, thundering across the green field. Yet it seemed humans were not the only ones aided by mount. Orcs, too, had their own.

And their mounts were not slow either.

Shigaq. It was how they named the beast. A large, muscular, wolf-like mount. Armed with curved exposed fangs.

And the departure of the two siblings did not escape the eyes of an orc rider, who was also alerted by a loud croak of his pillion partner. With fury he smacked his shigaq. And the beast abruptly leapt into a sprint, pursuing after them. It barked unnaturally louder than its size, like monsters bellowing, making Chronoth and Misha tremor from time to time.

Despite the overwhelming terror, Chronoth did not let himself crushed by fear, without looking back he focused on things emerging ahead. Heavy, flashing, gloomy sky and swirling grass. He would not look back. He would never look back, let alone to his flanks, even the orc rider might have already run abreast with him.

For Chronoth knew something far deadlier was appearing.

Something far more horrendous.

Their dead end.

The impermeable siege.

And it came, slowly rising up from the field horizon. Limitlessly wide wall of orc armies. Heavily armed troops of foot-soldiers. Dreadful axes ranging from different lengths to different sizes and different shapes. Mounts of muscular shigaqs bearing their masters while snarling with countless fangs.

It was despair.

Or it seemed so. All of a sudden something chaotic occurred on a spot of the beleaguerment. Far ahead of Chronoth. And he immediately peered at it.

Confusion and cries. A great panic had erupted from an army of orcs. Shigaqs abruptly attacking each other and orcs being thrown down or furiously engaging in brutal slashing. It seemed a great dispute had suddenly broken out in that particular troop, slowly opening up a gap while radiating its influence to other battalions. Without the slightest hesitation Chronoth steered Tucker towards it. He knew it was his only chance. Failed, they died. Killed under the cascade of endless axes.

While darting forwards, Chronoth seemed too desperate and too focused — that he did not immediately notice a hatchet was being hurled towards him.

A spinning hatchet.

And blood.

Chronoth yelped in pain as he dodged on that last moment, unable to fully avoid the projectile that flew past his arm while drawing out strings of blood. Misha cried in fear. But Chronoth did not stop, with great endurance he hurried forward, diving desperately towards the widening rift.

More hatchets came flying. He crouched low, steering Tucker skillfully left and sometimes right with all the horse-riding art he’d learnt. The projectiles swerved past him in many directions. Some he dodged fully, others a close shave, and a few bearing his blood. But he did not give up.

And he entered the wide opening. As he thought they could escape while riding all the way through the great confusion, a huge orc standing on a few corpses abruptly noticed him. And with a terrific spin he swung his massive axe at Chronoth. Exactly like how a person cut down a tree with one powerful stroke.

And the great axe did not strike air.

It managed to cut through.

Misha cried in terror. The axe had cut through strings of her hair. Chronoth had crouched once again on that critical moment. He had hurled himself flat on Tucker’s back, dragging Misha down and miraculously saving them both.

“Are you alright Misha!?” Chronoth cried in fear.

“I.., I’m fine.., Chron..,” Misha stuttered with a great effort.

And they went through, leaving the wide siege behind. But as soon as they escaped, Six orcs riding on the three shigaqs noticed them and immediately prompted their mounts into a great sprint. They knew they must not let anyone escape. Not even a child. No.., especially child. Children must be killed. Not even one shall survive. All must be killed.

The monstrous barking behind rattled the two siblings but also alerted them of the unsettled danger. Without looking back Chronoth immediately drove Tucker to an insane speed, galloping like a loosed arrow divng down the gusty green field.

While shigaqs were extremely wild and aggressive, they did not run as fast as horses. Something proved to be somewhat advantageous for Chronoth. Yet these shigaqs were being specially trained by orcs to endure a lengthy race, a feat that Tucker did not have.

While glancing around for human aids, Chronoth suddenly spotted something. It was not humans or orcs but a great stone ruin, looming ginormous from the faraway grass. Chronoth knew what it was. The Dead Gate. There were quite a number of them, scattered throughout the vast land. No one knew exactly what they were built for.

Ancient mystery stonework. All looked about the same, towering up like a majestic stone gate yet with its middle being empty, allowing a rank of 10 horsemen to pass through.

But to Chronoth’s disbelief, this gate looked different. Not its design nor its material but its function. It was suddenly working. All of a sudden this colossal thing was working like a portal. Blinding brightness suddenly came into existence, spreading like lightning to the stone pillars flanking its opening.

Winds rushed, flowing into the horrific light ahead of Chronoth.

Although the air currents were not overly strong as to the point of sucking them in, Chronoth voluntarily steered Tucker towards the gate. Not that he was brave or reckless. But he had no choice. Tucker was still too young.., he knew, they might not be able to outrun the well-trained shigaqs chasing behind for long. And entering the portal seemed to be the only choice now.

And within moments the stone gate drew close to them, its brightness screeching and thundering, making Misha and Chronoth’s ears pressured with pain. Closing his eyes Chronoth rode all the way in, preparing for the worst. The great light voraciously devoured them. And they were abruptly gone.

Vanished. Nowhere to be found. The orcs got stupefied of what they witnessed, unsure on whether to follow the two siblings in.

To Chronoth and Misha’s surprise, they were suddenly galloping in another grassland. Abruptly out from a different lofty stone gate looming up behind Tucker. It seemed they had escaped. But Chronoth did not give way to the slightest relief. In growing worries he prompted Tucker to race on. He felt a great apprehension. And that worry did not prove unfounded.

The pursuing orcs soon rushed out from the stone gate in a brightening flash, racing after them at once. The orcs well-remembered what their chief had told them. Children must not escape. If not, they paid for them.

Life for life. Head for head.

Yet something came to the aid of Chronoth. Far ahead of Tucker. A long rank of sinister dark trees. And suddenly Chronoth knew where he was. He realized they were still on the same continent, only at a different place. For he recognized these sinister trees well. The line of trees was in fact not only some plants but the front part of a great mysterious forest.

Mortal Eater, the deadly forbidden forest.

Whoever ventured into it was never seen again. Lost. Forever lost and gone. Many said mysterious creatures guarded the wood, feeding on the brains of people who dared to enter. And also the eyeless humanoid monster, ripping apart the limbs of any trespasser with its four skinny arms while he was still alive. Before it gouged out his eyes and everything in his throat.

Despite the fatal danger, Chronoth rode towards the wood. For he could now sense the emerging fatigue of Tucker. The young horse had begun to grow weary. Intruding into the wood seemed as the only way to deter the pursuers. Misha seemed to understand what he was about to do. She leaned hard against his back, afraid but supporting his decision.

Without slowing down his speed Chronoth rode forwards.

Venturing into the ominous wood under the great gloomy sky.

 

Chapter 4


“Watch out, Chron!” Misha cried in a sudden fear, clinging to Chronoth’s back hard.

Immediately many large trees came ramming at his eyes. In great fear he steered Tucker with all his skill, dodging the surging trunks with hazardous veers. The orcs behind soon rode in as well, yet with an overwhelming regret. They knew where they were. They dreaded this place, having received a lot of frightful news about its peril.

As Chronoth thought he was able to get rid of the pursuers behind with their growing distance, an immeasurable crannied trunk abruptly crashed at him. Too close. Too sudden. Too swift.

Nowhere to dodge. Tucker reared up on the last second, saving the two siblings while hurling them down to the bed of leaves. Heart thumping extremely fast, Chronoth helped Misha up and suddenly made up his mind. He knew he had to let Tucker go. A ruthless decision. But horses were not supposed to run in wild woods. Especially not this one.

Tucker refused, not wanitng to part with his dearest friend whom he had bonded with for so long. But to no avail. He whined in sorrow and cantered away after Chronoth gave him a swift yet firm order to leave.

No time for a proper farewell. Chronoth felt a sharp pang of guilt. He knew Tucker might not survive without a caring owner. A devastating consequence for such a faithful and loyal mount. But there was no choice. He knew between the life of Tucker and Misha, he could only choose one.

The orcs behind immediately dismounted as well when they saw the faraway siblings flee on foot. For the trees had also proved to be a great hindrance for their shigaqs. Not letting them to sprint with ease.

While darting in frigid fear, Chronoth and Misha noticed something strange appearing on the ground. Something inexplicable. Extremely small yet glimmering. Not one but many. A line — A string of them, extremely subtle yet glittering like stars, leading a way towards somewhere further in.

“Should we follow these.., Chron?” Misha asked in wonder, curious yet dreadful of where it might lead to.

“I.., I don’t know.., Misha.., b.., but it seems we have no choice.., urgh!” Chronoth suddenly gasped, blood trickling to the ground.

“You are still bleeding, Chron!” Misha cried, shocked by his undried wounds hurt by those deadly hatchets.

“I.., I’m alright.., Misha. But it seems the blood would leave a trail for the orcs to follow us….., I.., I’m sorry..,” Chronoth said in regret, trying to communicate with Misha while sprinting with her.

“Stop saying like this.., Chron!” Misha reproved. “You have done your best. Far more than what you are able to do! W.., we would escape, Chron! Let.., let’s follow these glitters on the ground, shall me…?” she said in worries, running abreast with Chronoth.

Chronoth nodded, focusing on what was coming ahead. But he knew what Misha thought. He knew they would be caught up by the orcs sooner or later. They could not escape, due to the faint trail left by his blood. The orcs were no fools, and they seemed to have a keen sense of smell.

The glitters seemed to be their only hope now. It might lead them into a place resided by the inhabitants of this wood. A hidden settlement. A gleaming path laid by those dwellers for their own orientation. But.., this could also be a false assumption, a false reckoning that could lead them into somewhere deathlier. Even far deathlier than orcs.

“Stay with me.., Chron! Don’t give up!” Misha said aloud, shocked by Chronoth who at the moment almost suddenly lost his footing and fell tumbling to the ground due to a subtle faintness creeping into his head.

“Don… Don’t worry,” Chronoth replied in constant pants. “I.., I’m alright.., Misha. Please focus ahead.”

And before long they had come to the end of the gleams. It was a spacious green clearing. With something in the middle of it. Something majestic. An ancient, pillared, vine-infested ruin.

It was built without a roof, or it seemed to be so. For its very top shelter might have already been chiselled away by ages of merciless weather. Chronoth and Misha rushed to the centre of the damaged structure, evading its exposed grand interior along the way. For something had captured their attention. There was something in the middle of the ruin.

One sculptureful fountain with a stone podium guarding its front.

The flat face of the podium was engraved with an incomprehensible text. Strange and mysterious words. A lost language. Chronoth and Misha stared into it in despair, unknowing what aid they would get in this desolate ruin. Misha immediately pulled away her gaze and looked around, uninterested in those enigmatic words.

“Bro.., broken stars…,” Chronoth said, all of a sudden reading the text. Much to the astonishment of Misha.

He was even more terrified by himself. He had never learnt this language before. But words just flowed out of his mouth when he stared into the text. As though he’d known them for a long time.

“Broken stars in the sea of hands,” he continued reading, petrified and unable to control his mind.

“High winds in the goblet of stone,”

“Red streams on the highlands of white,”

“Torrents in the valleys of deep,”

“In. Oh, The Chosen,”

“Your hand, in. In to the Fairy Fountain.”

“Chron!” Misha said aloud, waking him back into reality right when he finished decrypting the text. Right when the orcs appeared.

They stood there, grinning hideously while brandishing their axes outside the ruin. Whatever it was, wherever they were, the two siblings must run now.

But to Chronoth’s despair, he went limp, suddenly half-collapsing to the stone ground. He could stand no more. He felt weary. Dizzy. Worn out. Blood trickling down his wounds onto the mossy floor. With all his remaining strength he crawled towards the great fountain while aided by Misha, whose cheeks were at the moment moistured by uncontrollable tears. There was only one thing in Chronoth’s muddled mind now. Only one thing.

“….Your hand, in. In to the Fairy Fountain.”

The last and only sentence he could still remember from everything he had decrypted.

“Don… Don’t die.., Chron….., please… Don’t leave me…., please..,” Misha pleaded her brother in tears, helping and holding him tight on a heart hewn by despair.

Chronoth smiled at her, trying his best to ease her sorrow. He knew he would not survive. He was losing blood. They would die together today. But he wished Misha would live. He wished she could escape. He wished she could get away and live happily ever after. Without him.

Living with someone she truly loved and be happy ever after.

Without surrendering himself easily to death Chronoth continued crawling towards the grand fountain. It seemed inexplicably gentle and welcoming now. As though it was calling on Chronoth to come over. The six hulking orcs seemed amused by this scene, cackling aloud and even cheering behind them. They started clapping and dancing and urging them to move faster.

Move faster! They cackled in their own language. Crawl faster! Crawl away from us! Faster! We are behind you! They capered and pirouetted and ridiculed them.

A few even laid their eyes on Misha, entertained by how she stubbornly helped Chronoth to craw along and was sobbing truthfully for him. They wanted to take her. To humiliate her before taking her life. They would wait for her dear brother to die first. And then they would begin. Enjoying this little girl and later dissecting her.

Within moments the centre of the fountain was exposed before Chronoth’s eyes. Exquisitely carved and etched with a hand-width gap in the middle of it. Slowly losing his consciousness yet grasping on the last sentence in his mind and with the desperate desire to protect Misha, Chronoth hauled himself over, slipping his hand in.

Deep. Burying almost the entirety of his arm into the tight opening.