Chapter 11: Anon

         A pulsing light faded in and out before Shenk’s eyes, revealing only short glimpses of his surroundings. He squinted and fought to focus through the bright purple glow that invaded and burned his eyes. He sat in a barren space, devoid of walls, objects, or people. The only thing he could see was a stretch of absolute nothingness. He felt his breathing deepen and his heart pound against his chest, but he could hear neither nor sense even the faintest sound.

         What is this strange feeling? Is this death?

         He could barely hear his own thoughts as he searched for anything away from this emptiness. Fear’s cold grasp began to choke him of life’s giving breath. Shenk fought for control over his body, but the shifting light faded away. In that moment of darkness Shenk felt as though his conscious mind had been ripped from his body.

         That’s when he saw the orc charging toward him, breaking through the veil of darkness that surrounded him on all sides. The beast’s eyes were wide with hunger–hunger for the thrill of the kill. In that moment Shenk smelled the fowl odor pouring off its skin. He heard its cry of battle, a guttural snarl that echoed and shook through every part of his body. He could feel every muscle in his own body tense all at once, and he clutched the handle of his axe in both hands. The wave came over him like the fiery breath from a dragon's gullet, engulfing him in an instant of raw emotion. His entire body felt as if he had been driven headfirst into a pool of smoking lava. He felt his body move, but a cloud of red mist shadowed his vision.

         As quickly as the feelings came to him, his mind once again fell into darkness. The same cold hands pulled at his very soul, trying to rend him to pieces. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

         A single drop of sweat rolled from his brow and off his cheek, cascading downward and landing on the mangled body of the orc assailant. Blood flowed onto the cold ground, pooling beside the prone corpse. The same scarlet liquid oozed down the blade of his axe.

         Shenk’s awareness flickered like the shimmering light, but every flash away from the darkness revealed another mangled body. With each bright glimmer, a spark of life was extinguished. Body after body, face by face, the images before him made the pull of the chilling hands that much stronger. The final thing he could discern was his own body plummeting downward. Every muscle in his body gave way to a crushing agony coursing through his body, mind, and soul.

         Help me . . .

         “He’s waking up,” echoed a voice from beyond. Shenk felt his consciousness strengthen and lift away from the cold claws and their chilling stranglehold. He forced open his eyes and was relieved to find more than nothingness. A blur of colors swirled in front of him, colors and forms he could not make out. He closed his eyes and groaned at the soreness that spread through his muscles.

         “You’re telling me that you’ve been traveling around with this orc?” Shenk heard a different voice say, one that was unfamiliar to him.

         “If it were not for his support, we would not be alive,” another voice spoke. He recognized this voice as belonging to Prescott.

         “I’m sorry if I seem a little weary, but I just got done dealing with more orcs than I’d ever like to see in one place. Come to think of it, he looks much different from any orc I’ve ever seen. He has features that are vaguely . . . human,” the unknown voice spoke again.

         “Mah blood is only part orc,” Shenk mumbled and stirred. He opened his eyes again and looked up at the two. The colors began to solidify into an image of a half-elf and a stout dwarf. He looked at Prescott first, whose concerned frown made him uncomfortable. He turned his attention to Grom and felt even more uneasy. The travel-worn dwarf cast a very unfriendly look toward his direction. “Mah mother was human, a poor peasant woman from a small town. A bunch of orcs came and destroyed it a long time ago. They took mah mother as a slave. The leader of that group of soldiers was mah father. He raped mah mother and kept her captive until I was born. They kept using her and never took good care of her. She was too weak and died while giving birth. I was raised as part of the orc clan, but I was made fun of and beaten up for being part human. I couldn’t take the same punishment every day, so I escaped into the night and never returned to them again. I’m an outcast and a coward to them, and I hate them for what they did to mah mother.”

         “Shenk, you should remain resting. You put yourself through a terrible ordeal last night,” Prescott said.

         “I’m all right, Prescott. Mah body aches, but mah strength has returned to me,” Shenk insisted.

         “If that’s the case then you better be ready for a long walk,” Grom said, turning away from the bed and making his way out of the room.

         “Is he always that way?” Shenk asked, looking back up at Prescott.

         “He has been under a lot of stress, much like yourself,” Prescott said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to Shenk, “Tell me what happened back there, Shenk. What happened to you when we were driving back the orc forces?”

         Shenk did not respond at first. His head dropped, and he crossed his hands over his chest to keep himself from shaking. He opened his mouth to explain but closed it again and bit his lip.

         “Shenk,” Prescott whispered, reaching forward and touching his hands.

         “I can’t explain to you what happened. I lost control of mah body. I remember seeing the orcs killing the wild elves, but something happened after that. All I can remember is the killing blows that cut the orcs to pieces. I remember the dark elf and him retreating with the rest of the orcs. That was the last thing I saw before everything went all black,” Shenk explained, not raising his head for fear of Prescott’s reaction.

         Prescott removed his hand from Shenk’s and pulled himself to his feet. Shenk gathered the courage to lift his head and saw Prescott standing over him with his hand extended.

         “Come on, friend. We have a journey to make, and we are not going to leave one of our friends behind,” Prescott said.

         A small smile crept across Shenk’s face, and he nodded. Reaching his hand up to Prescott, he pulled himself from the bed and went about gathering his things.

         As the two made their preparations, Grom descended the staircase and marched toward the fire, where he saw Isac and Cloey both sitting close by. As he neared, he noticed that the two shouted back and forth in yet another argument.

         “You’re such a jerk!” Cloey screamed at him. Grom saw her stern face and decided it best to stay a ways back.

         “All I’m saying is that I’ve seen prettier women before. Little girls aren’t really my type anyway,” Isac sputtered.

         “You say that like you’d actually have a chance with me. I’d have absolutely nothing to do with a greasy-haired drunk! I want a man who is going to pamper my each and every need. I want someone who is sensitive yet strong and rugged. I’m looking for someone who understands how to make a real woman like myself happy,” Cloey said, lifting her nose into the air and trying to speak in her most refined voice.

         “You’re living in a dream world,” Grom interjected.

         “Hmph!” Cloey scowled and jumped up from the ground, “I’m going to find this Shenk guy. I haven’t met him yet. Maybe he’ll be the gorgeous, hunky man of my dreams! Anyone is better than you two!”

         Grom wanted to explain to her exactly who Shenk was but stopped himself, thinking it would be more amusing for her to find out on her own. Cloey scurried to her feet away from them and strode toward the tree in which Shenk and Prescott resided. Grom chuckled as he watched her walk, waggling her little hips in a sad attempt at being sexy.

         “Wait until she sees him,” Isac snickered, pulling himself to his feet. He stepped over next to Grom, and the two turned their attention to the tree-top structure. They watched Cloey hop up the stairs, almost tripping a few times in her excitement. As she slipped into the door, Grom held up his hand, raising three fingers. Every second he lowered one; when he reached zero they heard the high-pitched scream and watched her charge out and stumble down the stairs. Laughter overtook the dwarf and half-elf as they watched her scamper at full speed down the steps and back toward them. As she neared, Isac fell onto the ground, laughing and grabbing his sides. Grom did his best to try and cover up his laughter, but the twisted look of both horror and anger was too much for him to handle.

         “Yeah, laugh it up you guys! That was just hilarious!” Cloey said out of bitter spite. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them both. Grom managed to stifle his laughter, but Isac continued to roll about in his fit. Cloey sighed and turned her back to them, and as she did, she looked up to see Prescott and Shenk walking toward them.

         “Aww, Miss Cloey! Why did ya run off like that? Ya came bursting in yelling that ya were lookin’ for love, and then ya ran away screaming,” Shenk said, his face drooped in confusion.

         “Well, I . . . errr,” Cloey stammered, looking down at the ground to try and hide the cherry color of her cheeks.

         “Would you please show a little maturity, brother?” Prescott said to Isac, who was doing his best to try and compose himself. Prescott’s comment helped to stop the laughter, and Isac rose to his feet and brushed the dust off of his clothing.

         “Do you know the way to Anon, Prescott?” Grom asked to return their focus on the journey ahead of them.

         “The town we must travel to is a several day journey to the west of here. If we set out now and keep a good pace, we might be able to make it there in two or three days,” Prescott answered.

         “Then we better get going,” Grom said.

         Grom gave each of his four companions a quick glance and made his way off toward the west and away from the village. Prescott followed beside him, but he looked over his shoulder one last time to give the Sacred Oak a final glance. Cloey looked up at Shenk and Isac and darted off after her other two companions. Shenk threw an inquisitive look toward Isac, but he merely shrugged and followed behind.

                   *          *          *

         The five journeyed on through the day, following Prescott’s lead. As the sun began to make its own journey across the sky, Grom turned his head to the north. He saw the land crawl down a long hill that led into an open valley. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared forward into the bare grounds as if some ghost lingered before his eyes.

         “What is it?” Isac asked, stepping up beside the stunned dwarf.

         “Where did they go?” Cloey asked, stopping to stare down in the same direction that Grom faced.

         “What in the world are you guys talking about?” Isac asked, waving a hand back and forth in front of Grom’s face.

         “The army of orcs,” Grom said.

         “What army? I don’t see anything,” Isac said, sighing and tapping his foot against the ground.

         “There’s nothing left but a barren landscape. Where did it all go?” Grom asked aloud to himself. His eyes moved back and forth over the land, seeing nothing more than a broken down wall. The tents that once lined the grounds beyond the wooden gates were nowhere to be seen, and the bonfire that raged at the center of it all was extinguished. Groups of huddled figures rested among the left-over debris of the wall.

         “Where could they have all gone in only one night?” Cloey asked, turning her head up to Grom. Cloey found Grom no longer standing there, making his way down the hill and toward the fallen encampment.

         Grom jogged down the hill and came upon the strewn-about remains of the wall. He bent down and looked through the debris, realizing then that most of the wall had either been burned down or broken into small pieces. As he sifted through one of the many piles, something shimmered from underneath and caught his eye. He moved over to it and grasped the piece of wood, letting out a deep grunt as he tried to lift it. Shenk came over and placed his massive hands under the piece of wall. Together they were able to lift and push it aside.

         The rays of the setting sun reflected off the blade of an axe. The crushed body of an orc rested beside the axe. Its face was mangled and caked red with blood, frozen in a horrifying open-mouthed scream. Grom shook his head and stood up. Cloey stepped beside him and folded her hands in front of her.

         “I guess we won’t be worrying about Klakk,” Grom said, recognizing the orc that had tortured him while he was their prisoner. Cloey remained quiet next to him, lowering her head toward the ground.

         “A battle was fought here,” Prescott said, walking toward them. He knelt to the ground and ran his hands along the soil, closing his eyes and falling into a strange trance.

         “It doesn’t take a druid to realize that one,” Isac said, sneering at his brother’s methods, “So the orcs Grom ran into were wiped out. Why are we standing around here all quiet and not celebrating?”

         “Because it doesn’t make any sense. Who would oppose this size of a force and come out on top?” Grom asked.

         “We certainly aren’t going to find anything out by standing around here. If you haven’t noticed, it’s going to get dark soon. The faster we get to this Anon place, the better chance of us getting a cozy room at an inn for the night,” Isac said.

         “My brother is right. We should not be wasting time, Grom,” Prescott said, breaking from his trance and standing after his inspection of the surrounding area.

         Isac and Prescott both turned and strode away from the scene. Shenk looked somewhat concerned but followed as well, leaving Grom and Cloey standing alone.

         “Do you think it was because I stole the amulet? Those orcs looked angry at one another,” Cloey asked, raising her head to look up at Grom.

         “I don’t know, Cloey. The time may come when we find out, but it won’t be right now,” Grom said and turned away from her. She gave the dead body one last look before running after Grom.

                   *          *          *

         The remainder of the journey rushed by in silence. They stopped for two nights to rest, but they managed little sleep. At the first sight of light, Prescott ushered them to gather their things and continue on. On the third day of traveling they came upon a cobblestone road. They stopped at the edge of the forest and watched a line of horse-drawn carts clamber by and head toward the walls of a distant city.

         “I’m guessing that’s the city of Anon,” Isac said, scratching the side of his face.

         “Yes, though I must admit that I have not been here in many years. I know very little about the city or its rulers,” Prescott said.

         “Then let’s go find out,” Grom said.

         They walked along the side of the road, keeping out of the way of the busy traffic that passed to and from the city. As they ventured closer to their destination, they could see the wall made of sturdy rock and stone stretched around the town. Grom recognized the stone as being the same rock mined from the mountain in which he left behind to explore the great wide world. He marveled at its height and width, knowing that even an entire army wouldn’t be able to put a dent in the wall. The sprawling barrier reminded him of his home deep within the mountains, which to him was a welcome memory after all he had been through.

         “How did the orcs manage to break through the defenses?” Cloey asked, craning her neck to look all the way to the top.

         “The walls look perty strong,” Shenk added.

         “I want to know how we’ll get in past all these carts,” Isac said, scratching his head with the end of his staff.

         The front gates to the town were opened to allow for the flow of carts to make their way inside and out. Prescott led the group up to the doors and began looking around for anyone. They soon saw two guards standing at the gate, both human and decked out in full resplendent armor with swords hanging at their sides. One took a step toward them and held out his hand, which brought the group to a halt. The guard’s hand fell to the grip of his sword, and his eyes narrowed from behind the slits of his helm.

         “What a strange group of travelers you are. What is your business here in Anon?” the guard asked, shifting his glance from each of them. He stopped and stared at Shenk, who stood near the back of the group but towered over them all in height.

         “We have come to speak with the Council of Five Elders,” Prescott answered.

         “Upon what business?” the guard continued. His attention remained transfixed upon the lumbering and silent half-orc.

         “We have pressing matters that must be brought to their attention. We bring information about the recent attacks by the orcs,” Prescott said. Noticing the guard’s preoccupation with his companion, he cleared his throat and took a single step forward.

         The guard ceased his inspection of Shenk and glanced at Prescott. He paused for a moment and surveyed the strangers one final time before stepping to the side. “You may enter our town, but be warned that we will not tolerate any mischief or treachery of any kind. Follow the road into the center of town. The Temple of Helena lies beyond the garden.”

         “Thank you,” Prescott said, bowing his head out of respect.

         The guard kept a close eye on them as they passed through the gates and into the town. Shenk turned his head and saw the menacing look on the man’s face, causing him to turn back at once.

         They walked down the path crowded with carts and people to come upon a city filled with winding streets and multistory houses. There was a certain ambience that seemed similar in ways to Oneria, but the city of Anon was far more vast and populated. They traveled with some difficulty along the road toward an even more populated part of town, leaving the residential portion behind and finding a district full of trade.

         “Anon is one of the most populous towns in all of Feldos,” Prescott began to explain, “The rulers of the town are five elder priests, each of them elven-blooded. There was a rumor that one of the five rulers recently resigned his position to allow a younger member to step up. However, I have not heard anything confirmed for sure.”

         “Oh yeah?” Grom asked, but his uttered words came out in a shaken tone. Every muscle in his body tensed in reaction to being thrust into such a crowded area.

         “Many merchants travel here from all over Feldos and beyond to sell their wares. They even voyage from as far as Falconcrest and Sagarian to make a substantial profit,” Prescott continued, ducking around a stopped cart filled with numerous crates of unknown goods.

         “Remember what the guard said about any mischief,” Grom said, turning to Cloey. As he turned, he stopped in his tracks and threw up his hands. “We’ve lost the damn girl, already!”

         “Miss Cloey’s gone?” Shenk asked, his lips curling into a frown.

         “Maybe my prayers have been answered and she wandered off for good,” Isac mumbled to himself.

         “You forget that she has the amulet,” Grom said with a sigh.

         “How about you and Shenk go and find her while we talk to the elves,” Prescott suggested.

         “Why can’t I go with?” Isac asked, raising his voice.

         “Because I would like you to accompany me to meet with the elders. Grom and Shenk can handle finding Cloey,” Prescott said, eyeing his brother.

         “I thought you and Miss Cloey didn’t get along,” Shenk said, scrunching up his face and scratching the end of his freckled nose.

         “It has nothing to do with that!” Isac shouted, “I’d rather wander the town and do a bit of sightseeing than have to listen to my brother gab with a bunch of old men.”

         “Come on, brother,” Prescott said. Isac recognized the tone in his voice. He knew Prescott was a man of great patience, but even now it was wearing thin. Isac’s head slouched in defeat, and he followed his brother through the crowd and out of sight.

         “I think Isac’s worried about Miss Cloey,” Shenk said to Grom.

         “You have a lot to learn about those two,” Grom said and threw back his head in a long, hard laugh. He patted Shenk on the back and strolled off in search of the halfling. Shenk stood there confused for a moment and then followed after him.

         The Izula brothers maneuvered through the busy streets, squeezing between carts and groups of vendors and customers. They traveled farther away from the crowded center of town and came upon a far less populated roadway. Continuing on a ways, they encountered a truly beautiful garden filled with flowers of all colors and sizes. The road came to an end, leaving only the vast garden before them. Both brothers wandered forth, slowing their pace to marvel at the lively sunflowers, blooming marigolds, and fragrant daffodils. Prescott’s eyes darted from flower to flower, and he reached out to touch the petals and stems of each one. Though still marveled by the vast array of colors, Isac seemed much less enthused. He cleared his throat to gain the attention of his older brother. Realizing the futility of his attempts, he walked over and grabbed him by the ear, giving it a hard tug.

         “Can we just get this over with?” Isac asked with an anxious twitching of his nostrils. He let go of his brother and began stomping his feet impatiently.

         Prescott’s eyes narrowed, and he rubbed the tip of his ear. Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, he continued on through the garden without so much as a word. As they moved farther along, they noticed the white stone walls of the temple breaking through the vast array of colors. Near the end of the garden stood a tall golden statue wearing chiseled, flowing robes and polychromatic gemstones adorning her neck. A pair of emeralds shimmered in the sunlight as if she were keeping watch on both Isac and Prescott as they stepped toward the front doors of the temple. Guards stood at the tall double door entrance, and they stepped forward at the sight of the half-elf brothers.

         “State your business,” one of the guards spoke to them.

         “We have business with the Five Elders,” Prescott answered, bowing his head out of respect.

         “Follow me into the main hall. I will announce that they have visitors,” the guard said, turning and raising his hands toward the doors. Without touching them, the doors pushed forward and creaked open.

         “I want a magically opening door,” Isac mumbled to himself. Prescott ignored his brother and followed the guard inside.

         The guard led them into a spacious living quarters. A fireplace stood across the room, acting as a gathering place on cold nights. A table and chairs rested to the left of the fireplace, each tall-backed chair unoccupied. Isac eyed the tapestries that hung throughout the room, colorful reds and golds that accentuated the warmth of the room.

         “Quite the lavish temple,” Isac said, his voice echoing off the walls.

         “This must be some sort of living area. The temple itself lies beyond these rooms,” Prescott explained to his brother.

         Isac stepped toward the fireplace and ran a finger along the mantle. There was not a speck of dust to be found. He reached out and lifted a smooth porcelain figurine resting above the fireplace. The figure was crafted into the shape of two young elven boys standing hand in hand, unpainted smiles on their rounded faces.

         “Please don’t break anything, brother,” Prescott warned his younger brother, who refused to replace the figure and pulled it to his chest with a resenting frown.

         “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Isac and Prescott,” a voice echoed from the staircase to the right of the door. Isac and Prescott turned their heads at the same time, and both brother’s eyes widened. The figurine slipped from Isac’s hands and crashed to the ground. Tiny porcelain fragments shattered at his feet.

         “What are you doing here?” Isac asked. His voice trembled like he had just seen and heard a ghost.

         “Father?” Prescott uttered. His stunned words resounded through the hall, echoing the same stunned shock of his younger brother.

         A tall elf descended the staircase, followed by the trailing white robes that fell over his slender frame. Golden hair ran down his back in a tight braid, and two thin strands rested at shoulder length in front of his pointed ears. His eyes shimmered like the gleaming scales of a golden dragon; there was something menacing about the way they regarded the room. He took slow steps down the staircase and strode over to his sons, stopping in front of Prescott and placing a hand on his shoulder.

         “It is good to see you, son!” Prescott’s father said, a smile gleaming on his face.

         “You are the newly appointed Elder that I heard about? How could I not have heard that it was you?” Prescott asked, a slight smile crossing his own lips.

         “I’m sure you have been busy with your training out in the wild. And what is this I see? You are carrying your brother along with you. Isac, how long has it been since you and I have seen one another?” his father inquired, turning toward him.

         “I don’t remember. How long has it been since you threw me out of training without a single care?” Isac snapped back at him. His eyes narrowed, and he looked at his father with complete disgust.

         “Please, Isac, I hope that you didn’t come this far to cry to me like when you were a child. Are you really still holding that over my head?” his father asked. He kept a calm and level-headed tone, but his eyes told a different story.

         “I’m just supposed to forget about what happened? I forgot, I’m nothing but a failure in your eyes, father! Perhaps I shouldn’t even be in your presence. All I am to you is an eyesore,” Isac said, turning away from his father.

         “What is going on down here? What seems to be the problem, Vander?” another voice rang from the stairs. Prescott turned his head to see an elderly elf make his way down the stairs. Elves were known for their extended years of life, but even they, graceful as they appeared, were not immune to the wearing hands of time. Many elves that reached the last days of their extended lives spent their time in peaceful harmony. This was not the case for the elf that stepped toward them. His once bronze hair was now alabaster, but it still had the smooth sheen of the rest of his kin. However, even his gentle smile and deep blues could not bring comfort to the tension pervading the room.

         “It is nothing, Ivalice,” Vander Izula replied, throwing a gaze of harsh contempt toward his younger son, “It is only the words of an ungrateful son. A child whose only talents are drinking and ruining everything I provided for him.”

         Isac ignored the insult and walked toward the doors, which were thrown to either side before he could demand them to be opened. A guard entered, followed by Grom and Shenk.

         “She’s gone!” Grom shouted, grabbing Isac’s shoulder.

         “What is the meaning of all this?” Ivalice demanded with a raised voice.

         “There’s no time to explain! They have Cloey and the amulet! Come on!” Grom shouted again, tugging at Isac’s shoulder.

         Isac’s face fell in horror for a moment. With a nod, he turned his head to his brother, “Let’s go, Prescott.”

         Prescott gave his father one last look before striding over to his companions. They all made a hasty exit from the room, except for Isac, who stopped and turned back to the two elves.

         “I’ll show you my worth, father!” Isac shouted in defiance. He turned and ran after his friends.

         Ivalice looked up to Vander, but he remained silent and steadfast. The only sound heard in the hall was the echo of doors slamming shut once more. Vander walked over to the fireplace and lifted the remnants of the figurine. One of the elven children’s heads was cracked. He sighed and placed the broken boys back above the fire.

ID: 931681   (Rated: 13+) Chapter 12: Mysterious Clues  Clues are left behind after Cloey's abduction. Where will they lead the heroes? by The Lemon