Part I
It must've been about 20 years since the sun last shone on Cyria. The False Wars had a big effect on the world, but not many chose to remember it. It had been nightmarish; the visions of death and deformed human bodies haunted many Cyrians for many years. Most of them managed to forget most of those visions, and went on with their lives as normal, whatever normal is considered these days. Some of them, however, could not escape those memories of destruction, and kept them bottled up inside in the forms of hatred, misery, anguish. Their life became dull, painful, a lingering for the end.
Nasur was a musician, unsuccessfully attempting to entertain the patrons of the inn nearest his house. He had no one left still alive from his past, so his music became his only friend and family, keeping him sane for the past twenty years. He was a tall man with dark characteristics, a man you would call handsome under better circumstances but his age and way of life had been quick in making sure no one called him such.
It had been a cold month, but that night was especially cold. Nasur's cabin was located at the edge of the Dark Woods, just outside Cyria. It was made with logs, cut and built by his father a few weeks before he was lost. The cabin did a good job keeping the cold out most of the days, but lately it had been ineffective. Nasur had built a fireplace at the corner of the sitting room, opposite the small kitchen where he only kept his pine flavoured mead. Scattered around the kitchen were plates of half-eaten food, that Ayilia brought once in a while. Nasur didn't know why she cared to bring him food, nor did he care much for it. He was grateful, but on his own way. He only felt bad that the poor girl had to walk over five thousand paces across the city for it, and therefore had never denied her offer or been abrupt to her as he usually was with others trying to be part of his life.
As Nasur was sitting on his divan, preparing his lute for the eve's appearance at the Dancing Hedgehog, he noticed the fire slowly dimming to a pile of ash. He had plenty of time before he had to leave and firewood was neatly piled right outside the cabin's entrance. Cautiously, he put down the lute, put on his wool cloak and leather moccasins, and stepped outside. He approached the door and turned the knob when a sudden thump on the door made him jump. After being stunned for a few heartbeats, he realised that the thump kept repeating. The door, he thought.
"Mr. Ahmer, I have a letter for you.", shouted a raspy childlike voice from outside. Nasur opened the door and saw a Cyrian messenger, no more than fifteen years old, his nose and hands taking a blue hue as Nasur stared at him in surprise.
"Thank you sir. May I ask who it is from?"
"Unknown Mr. Ahmer. Do you wish for me to return it?"
"How would you return it if the sender is unknown?"
The messenger stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, trying to conjure up an answer.
"Never mind that. I'll take the letter. You better hurry up and get back to your post if you don't wish to freeze outside my door. I really wouldn't know what to do with your corpse afterwards."
The messenger, his eyes bulging out of his head as he was trying to decide whether that was an insult or a sign of decency, quickly turned around and ran to his cart, settled on the driver seat and pushed for the horses to take him west towards Cyria, never looking back once.
Nasur spent a total of ten heartbeats staring at the hapless kid, before he turned back inside. Who would sent me a letter. It could be a job somewhere other than the Dancing Hedgehog, that would be a nice change. Nasur peeled off the wax holding the anonymous letter together and unfolded the paper. His expression didn't change much while reading it, but Nasur didn't know what to make of the words written inside.
Bell of the damned, hands pointing north,
you must be there, else I shan't come forth.
He could not think who the author of such a mysterious letter could be. He couldn't recognise the handwriting, nor the wording style. He doesn't remember ever being involved with someone, or at least not when he was sober. Bell of the damned is surely referring to the church by the city graveyard. What must I go do there? Who will be coming forth? A sudden chill rippled through him as he noticed that the door hadn't been shut, and the wind had pushed it ajar, letting all the cold inside. The firewood.
He stepped outside, his thoughts on the letter, its meaning and its unknown author, and turned right to gather his wood basket. He set the basket down and began throwing pieces of firewood into the basket. When the basket was full, he turned towards the door. Suddenly, his feet were in the air, as he felt himself falling back, the weight of the basket dragging him down. He spread his arms, trying to catch himself, throwing the basket to the side and scattering the gathered firewood. He realised he wasn't quick enough as he felt darkness sweep over him, his whole body feeling numb.
Part II
Ayilia was walking in circles around her bedroom. The wind outside kept blowing tiny bits of snow on her window, which had a wonderful view of the city from the fourth floor. The whole room, which was made out of walnut wood, located above the Dancing Hedgehog, was empty but for a large wooden bed covered in white satin linen, and a dresser that held her casual clothing. Although she could afford it, she would never wear the usual coloured silk that the nobility of Cyria did. She enjoyed being part of the nobility but despised the grandiosity that went with it. In her mind, nobility represented humility, intelligence and pride, not arrogance and bluster.
Lately, she had been feeling anxious. She wasn't sure of the truth, but she couldn't pull herself together to find out. When she had heard of Nasur's misfortune, she was unsure whether to believe it or not. There weren't many details in what she had been told, other than Nasur's mental health being in the same condition as before, whatever that meant. She couldn't go around asking people about him. No one knew of her dealings with Nasur. It was improper for a part of the nobility to undertake any contact with the lower classes, especially for the daughter of the most elegant inn that Cyria had to offer.
Suddenly she stopped. She felt panic with a chill of excitement run through her body. It was decided instantly. She quickly packed her most valuable things in a small leather satchel and walked out of her room. Thankfully, it was the only one on the floor. On the left of the hallway were the steps that led to the lower levels. To her right, there was a lone window that led to the outside of the building. She sprinted to the window and opened it. A strong cool wind blew her back a few steps but she tenaciously reached it again. She looked down, swallowed her fear, and stepped out on the decorated wooden beam that encircled the building. She knew that around the corner to the left, there was an escape ladder, mainly used for visiting royalty needing a way to escape the curiosity of the Cyrians or by forbidden lovers looking to escape quickly from the wrath of their spouses.
With her eyes mostly shut, her hands groping her way along the beam, she reached the sharply descending ladder. Stabilising the satchel on her shoulder and looking around to see if anyone was watching, she grabbed hold of the first step she could reach and moved with extra caution to position her feet on the lower steps. Slowly, trying not to make any unnecessary sounds, she climbed down. As she reached the bottom, she jumped on the ground, falling on her bottom, her hands filling with the frozen snow which was not as white as she had expected it to be, compared to the snow that gathered around her windowsill or on the rooftops of the Cyrian buildings.
Across where she was, were the stables of the inn. Her favourite riding horse was inside, Nanni, a well-bred Pinto, a horse that she would greatly miss. She wished she could've taken her along, but there was no room for her in the adventure she was about to overtake. The stables spanned along the length of the building from which she just escaped, leaving a small space that barely fit a cart to pass through. The sun barely shined in this area, and green mould had begun to gather in the corners of the buildings. Suddenly, she heard crunching footsteps closing in towards her from the right.
“Who is it back there?”, yelled a burly voice.
She didn't worry about being discovered. She knew Kombus very well. They had once played together as children behind their neighbouring houses, in the poor districts of Cyria. They had been best friends for most of their childhood until Ayilia's parents had gained the favour of the King, whom gave them the permit to run the Dancing Hedgehog. Her life changed abruptly after that, leaving all of her friends and the environment she had gotten used to behind. That's when she lost all contact with Kombus, until two years ago when she found out that he was the new stable master. Kombus always loved horses, so she was glad that he was there, doing what he enjoyed, her old friend near her once again. She needed someone from her past, to remind her who she was, to confide in him. The old stable master was a great man, had been in the service of the inn for many centuries, but was also too old to keep on. He would also be missed.
“Ayilia! What are you...”
“Be quiet Kombus. Please.”
Kombus frowned.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I don't want to be seen is all.”
“What are you doing?”, he said as he looked at her satchel. “Are you going somewhere?”
“There's... something I have to do. I can't really explain it to you now Kombus. I'm really sorry. I must be going.”
She turned around and starting walking briskly towards the back alley. Kombus looked at her and barely got a word out before she had turned around the corner.
“Can't you tell me at least where you are going? What if something happens to you? How can I contact you?”
She stopped, half-turned her head so that her smile barely showed.
“Don't worry about me Kombus. I will be fine and back here in no time. I promise. Just please, don't tell anyone you saw me. Please?”
He felt anger at first but quickly warmed up to her and promised her that he won't reveal his discovery. Eventually it would be known that she had gone missing. Ayilia was known not to go outside much. Most of the time she would be found in her room scribbling endlessly on pieces of paper, things that no one ever read, so when her parents would ask for her, she would not be found. It wasn't often that her parents asked for her anyway. They had a busy inn to run, and she was too young to help out, so it would be a while before her departure would be noticed.
It must've been about 20 years since the sun last shone on Cyria. The False Wars had a big effect on the world, but not many chose to remember it. It had been nightmarish; the visions of death and deformed human bodies haunted many Cyrians for many years. Most of them managed to forget most of those visions, and went on with their lives as normal, whatever normal is considered these days. Some of them, however, could not escape those memories of destruction, and kept them bottled up inside in the forms of hatred, misery, anguish. Their life became dull, painful, a lingering for the end.
Nasur was a musician, unsuccessfully attempting to entertain the patrons of the inn nearest his house. He had no one left still alive from his past, so his music became his only friend and family, keeping him sane for the past twenty years. He was a tall man with dark characteristics, a man you would call handsome under better circumstances but his age and way of life had been quick in making sure no one called him such.
It had been a cold month, but that night was especially cold. Nasur's cabin was located at the edge of the Dark Woods, just outside Cyria. It was made with logs, cut and built by his father a few weeks before he was lost. The cabin did a good job keeping the cold out most of the days, but lately it had been ineffective. Nasur had built a fireplace at the corner of the sitting room, opposite the small kitchen where he only kept his pine flavoured mead. Scattered around the kitchen were plates of half-eaten food, that Ayilia brought once in a while. Nasur didn't know why she cared to bring him food, nor did he care much for it. He was grateful, but on his own way. He only felt bad that the poor girl had to walk over five thousand paces across the city for it, and therefore had never denied her offer or been abrupt to her as he usually was with others trying to be part of his life.
As Nasur was sitting on his divan, preparing his lute for the eve's appearance at the Dancing Hedgehog, he noticed the fire slowly dimming to a pile of ash. He had plenty of time before he had to leave and firewood was neatly piled right outside the cabin's entrance. Cautiously, he put down the lute, put on his wool cloak and leather moccasins, and stepped outside. He approached the door and turned the knob when a sudden thump on the door made him jump. After being stunned for a few heartbeats, he realised that the thump kept repeating. The door, he thought.
"Mr. Ahmer, I have a letter for you.", shouted a raspy childlike voice from outside. Nasur opened the door and saw a Cyrian messenger, no more than fifteen years old, his nose and hands taking a blue hue as Nasur stared at him in surprise.
"Thank you sir. May I ask who it is from?"
"Unknown Mr. Ahmer. Do you wish for me to return it?"
"How would you return it if the sender is unknown?"
The messenger stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, trying to conjure up an answer.
"Never mind that. I'll take the letter. You better hurry up and get back to your post if you don't wish to freeze outside my door. I really wouldn't know what to do with your corpse afterwards."
The messenger, his eyes bulging out of his head as he was trying to decide whether that was an insult or a sign of decency, quickly turned around and ran to his cart, settled on the driver seat and pushed for the horses to take him west towards Cyria, never looking back once.
Nasur spent a total of ten heartbeats staring at the hapless kid, before he turned back inside. Who would sent me a letter. It could be a job somewhere other than the Dancing Hedgehog, that would be a nice change. Nasur peeled off the wax holding the anonymous letter together and unfolded the paper. His expression didn't change much while reading it, but Nasur didn't know what to make of the words written inside.
Bell of the damned, hands pointing north,
you must be there, else I shan't come forth.
He could not think who the author of such a mysterious letter could be. He couldn't recognise the handwriting, nor the wording style. He doesn't remember ever being involved with someone, or at least not when he was sober. Bell of the damned is surely referring to the church by the city graveyard. What must I go do there? Who will be coming forth? A sudden chill rippled through him as he noticed that the door hadn't been shut, and the wind had pushed it ajar, letting all the cold inside. The firewood.
He stepped outside, his thoughts on the letter, its meaning and its unknown author, and turned right to gather his wood basket. He set the basket down and began throwing pieces of firewood into the basket. When the basket was full, he turned towards the door. Suddenly, his feet were in the air, as he felt himself falling back, the weight of the basket dragging him down. He spread his arms, trying to catch himself, throwing the basket to the side and scattering the gathered firewood. He realised he wasn't quick enough as he felt darkness sweep over him, his whole body feeling numb.
Part II
Ayilia was walking in circles around her bedroom. The wind outside kept blowing tiny bits of snow on her window, which had a wonderful view of the city from the fourth floor. The whole room, which was made out of walnut wood, located above the Dancing Hedgehog, was empty but for a large wooden bed covered in white satin linen, and a dresser that held her casual clothing. Although she could afford it, she would never wear the usual coloured silk that the nobility of Cyria did. She enjoyed being part of the nobility but despised the grandiosity that went with it. In her mind, nobility represented humility, intelligence and pride, not arrogance and bluster.
Lately, she had been feeling anxious. She wasn't sure of the truth, but she couldn't pull herself together to find out. When she had heard of Nasur's misfortune, she was unsure whether to believe it or not. There weren't many details in what she had been told, other than Nasur's mental health being in the same condition as before, whatever that meant. She couldn't go around asking people about him. No one knew of her dealings with Nasur. It was improper for a part of the nobility to undertake any contact with the lower classes, especially for the daughter of the most elegant inn that Cyria had to offer.
Suddenly she stopped. She felt panic with a chill of excitement run through her body. It was decided instantly. She quickly packed her most valuable things in a small leather satchel and walked out of her room. Thankfully, it was the only one on the floor. On the left of the hallway were the steps that led to the lower levels. To her right, there was a lone window that led to the outside of the building. She sprinted to the window and opened it. A strong cool wind blew her back a few steps but she tenaciously reached it again. She looked down, swallowed her fear, and stepped out on the decorated wooden beam that encircled the building. She knew that around the corner to the left, there was an escape ladder, mainly used for visiting royalty needing a way to escape the curiosity of the Cyrians or by forbidden lovers looking to escape quickly from the wrath of their spouses.
With her eyes mostly shut, her hands groping her way along the beam, she reached the sharply descending ladder. Stabilising the satchel on her shoulder and looking around to see if anyone was watching, she grabbed hold of the first step she could reach and moved with extra caution to position her feet on the lower steps. Slowly, trying not to make any unnecessary sounds, she climbed down. As she reached the bottom, she jumped on the ground, falling on her bottom, her hands filling with the frozen snow which was not as white as she had expected it to be, compared to the snow that gathered around her windowsill or on the rooftops of the Cyrian buildings.
Across where she was, were the stables of the inn. Her favourite riding horse was inside, Nanni, a well-bred Pinto, a horse that she would greatly miss. She wished she could've taken her along, but there was no room for her in the adventure she was about to overtake. The stables spanned along the length of the building from which she just escaped, leaving a small space that barely fit a cart to pass through. The sun barely shined in this area, and green mould had begun to gather in the corners of the buildings. Suddenly, she heard crunching footsteps closing in towards her from the right.
“Who is it back there?”, yelled a burly voice.
She didn't worry about being discovered. She knew Kombus very well. They had once played together as children behind their neighbouring houses, in the poor districts of Cyria. They had been best friends for most of their childhood until Ayilia's parents had gained the favour of the King, whom gave them the permit to run the Dancing Hedgehog. Her life changed abruptly after that, leaving all of her friends and the environment she had gotten used to behind. That's when she lost all contact with Kombus, until two years ago when she found out that he was the new stable master. Kombus always loved horses, so she was glad that he was there, doing what he enjoyed, her old friend near her once again. She needed someone from her past, to remind her who she was, to confide in him. The old stable master was a great man, had been in the service of the inn for many centuries, but was also too old to keep on. He would also be missed.
“Ayilia! What are you...”
“Be quiet Kombus. Please.”
Kombus frowned.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I don't want to be seen is all.”
“What are you doing?”, he said as he looked at her satchel. “Are you going somewhere?”
“There's... something I have to do. I can't really explain it to you now Kombus. I'm really sorry. I must be going.”
She turned around and starting walking briskly towards the back alley. Kombus looked at her and barely got a word out before she had turned around the corner.
“Can't you tell me at least where you are going? What if something happens to you? How can I contact you?”
She stopped, half-turned her head so that her smile barely showed.
“Don't worry about me Kombus. I will be fine and back here in no time. I promise. Just please, don't tell anyone you saw me. Please?”
He felt anger at first but quickly warmed up to her and promised her that he won't reveal his discovery. Eventually it would be known that she had gone missing. Ayilia was known not to go outside much. Most of the time she would be found in her room scribbling endlessly on pieces of paper, things that no one ever read, so when her parents would ask for her, she would not be found. It wasn't often that her parents asked for her anyway. They had a busy inn to run, and she was too young to help out, so it would be a while before her departure would be noticed.
