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A Question of Lineage I am still in mourning... They tell me I am the lucky one, the survivor. I disagree, and after listening to my tale I hope you will understand why. Luck has never crossed my path, in neither shape nor form. Instead what did cross my path was something worse, something far worse. However - before we go any further, I had better explain something of my family and the events that led up to this. My father is King Haemaland IV, ruler of lands that cover an area of the North West section of the Windbourne Hills. They say he is one of the greatest sovereigns of our time, bringing peace and prosperity to a land ravaged by over two hundred years of war. King Haemaland had three sons -- Harold the eldest, Ulrich, and myself, Cerian. I say 'had', because three months ago, my two elder brothers died. I wasn't there at the time, but they told me Ulrich had killed Harold after a terrible fight, and then died of his own wounds shortly thereafter. This tragedy left my mother the Queen confined to her chambers and my father a mere shadow of his former self. If that wasn't enough, ten nights after this horrific event I was awakened by a noise - my windows were rattling as though a mighty storm raged outside. When I got up to tighten the latch, the rattling stopped immediately. Instead I heard someone knocking on my door. But when I looked, there was no one there. I remember walking the length of the corridor outside, mystified and calling out - until I saw it. Gods, it was the most horrible thing. It looked like a naked man, but made out of gray clay. It was walking straight toward me, staring at me with hungry, piercing eyes. I don't know how I found the strength, or the courage - but I picked up a wall torch, threw it at the beast and started yelling. Needless to say I survived that particular encounter, and that very morning my father assigned a man named Kline with investigating the source of these phenomena. Kline is an Undead Hunter - everyone at the Castle is terrified of him. His scars, coupled with a missing ear, are merely outward signs of a man who has faced death on numerous occasions, and has dealt it out in equal measure. His eyes are like craters: so deep they suck you in and strip away everything, leaving you absolutely nowhere to hide. I was terrified of those eyes - it was two days before I could look him in the face without wanting to turn away and run. But of course I could not run. Inevitably, despite the fact this was not his primary purpose, he became my protector. He was my shield, just as my elder brother Harold was before his death. During a time when my mother and father barely acknowledged my existence -- Kline was all I had. At first, it seemed as though Kline's fearsome countenance had frightened all the monsters away. Then, seven nights later - another nightmare, leaving me without sleep and frightened down to my bones. I had gone to bed at my usual hour and fallen into slumber, only to be awakened in the middle of the night by a frantic whispering in my ear. I remember sitting up, wide awake, my skin prickling. Although I could see no one, it felt as though someone was there nonetheless. It was then I heard the shuffling noise outside. I got out of bed and ran to the door wondering where Kline was. I received my answer as soon as I poked my head out into the corridor. He was standing perfectly still, not far from my door. Like a fool I followed his eyes and saw the hideous creatures shuffling toward us both. There were two of them this time -- ghouls - hideous, rotting and gray. As soon as my nose caught their scent I wanted to scream. "Get back inside, Cerian!" yelled Kline. "And barricade the door!" I wanted to help him, but in the end, like a coward, I slammed the door shut on the horror that lay beyond and jammed a heavy wooden chair against the door handle. From then on, all I could hear was my own blood pounding past my ears, Kline's eerie chanting and their ghastly moans, and although it was probably all over in seconds, it seemed like an eternity to me. The twilight of the following day found us both sitting in an anteroom next to the King's chamber. I was partially in a daze and at the end of my emotional tether, but I also wanted to be brave: Kline had already given my father his report, but no doubt the King wished to see me personally. I had no wish to look weak in front of my father, but as we waited for an audience, I could not help thinking of what I had lost. I loved Harold. He was a strong, kind man who always had time for his little brother no matter what. People said he would have made a great ruler after father died, and I believed them. When I think of him, knowing that he's no longer there, it's like someone is grasping my heart and squeezing the life out of it. I wish it had never happened. I wish I had been there as they fought because I know, deep down in my very soul, that I would have been able to stop them. But now it's too late. I loved Ulrich just as much. Ulrich was different -- quiet and so clever he knew the answer to just about anything. But he was jealous of Harold. I used to tease him about it and distract him. I often found that I could bring him out of whatever black mood he was in, and make him smile. "Ah, little brother," he used to say, "such a welcome torment." Then he'd ruffle my hair and we'd both laugh. For some reason, the loss of Ulrich brings a deeper, more poignant hurt. After an unbearable hour of waiting, the door opened and we both rose in respect as a young lady dressed in black emerged -- it was Harold's widow, Anna. They were married six months ago in grand ceremony, and Harold had brought her to live with us at the Castle. Right now she looked pale and drawn. I had heard rumors that she had been constantly ill since Harold's death, especially in the mornings. We bowed and watched her hurry off down the passageway like a frightened deer. Before I could pass any comment, someone else appeared in the doorway and approached us. It was Mother Jeneveere, the Soulseeker. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. No wonder Anna had looked so frightened. The Soulseeker was a High Priest of Gargul. I had seen her before on numerous occasions over the years, during her visits to the Castle. During that time she had not changed, not one little bit. She still wore the same dispassionate, unlined face, and below that, her trademark pristine white robes. Her eyes as always looked misted over, to the point where, unless she was facing you directly, you couldn't really tell if she was looking at you or not. "Kline," she snapped. "We need to go upstairs. Bring the boy. I want to inspect his rooms." "Wait," I asked, unable to hide my disappointment. "Doesn't my father wish to see me?" She turned her milky eyes toward me. "No, boy -- I wish to see you. Come now, we have no time to waste." I followed dejectedly. One didn't argue with a Soulseeker. Kline's ruined face held a look of concern as we hurried upstairs toward my chambers; that made me feel worse. But why did she want to see me? On all of her previous visits, which amounted to several times a year, she had only ever spoken to my father, or Harold. There had only been one isolated occasion when she had talked to Ulrich. After that, Ulrich had locked himself away and hadn't reappeared for about a week. The Soulseeker knew quite a lot about our family - who our ancestors were, and what had become of them. It had been Mother Jeneveere who introduced Harold to Anna. On one rare occasion, Harold admitted to me that she could see inside his head. He said that she had shown him the past, and maybe the future, too. It had all sounded very odd, and I was happy to be left alone. In my chambers, Kline shut the door. At once I began to feel trapped. The Seeker was examining my windows, and straight afterward she turned and walked right up to me. I flinched before I could stop myself. "I'm not going to bite you, Cerian," she offered, without a trace of a smile. "Now -- Kline tells me you've been hearing things. Is that correct?" My eyes drifted toward the windows. "Yes," I croaked, like a frog. She seemed mildly amused. "Tell me, Cerian. Tell me everything." I cleared my throat and told her all I remembered -- the rattling windows, the knocking on my door, the whispering in my ear. "And who do you think it was?" she asked. "Who? I -- I don't know," I replied. "I never saw anyone. I never gave it much thought." "Hmm..." She reached forward and placed both of her hands on my shoulders. It took me all my strength to stop trembling. "Look at me, Cerian." I did as I was told, and swallowed hard as I saw her eyes turn completely and utterly white. Their pupils disappeared completely. They were like marble -- cold, hard, heartless and inhuman. Now I knew why Ulrich had locked himself away, and why Harold could hardly bear to discuss his meetings with this woman. It seemed that she did nothing, and yet she terrified me. Her voice cut into my head, which I was convinced had turned to stone at her gaze. "I am going to help you remember, Cerian," she said. "You must go beyond what the eyes cannot see." So I stood there, looking at her, lost in that cold stare, until a movement out of the corner of my eye distracted me. Involuntarily I glanced toward the window. The room had abruptly gone dark, but there was someone there, a man in the gloom, reaching for the window latch. The Reverend Mother and Kline had disappeared. I gasped and turned toward my bed. Suddenly I was lying down upon it, and I heard a voice, felt breath on my skin. Something was stirring within me, trying to tell me. Didn't I recognize that voice? The scene changed, and I was standing at the door. I could hear that knock, knock, knock - and I swung the door wide open, only to see -- The light in the room hit my eyes, making them sting. I saw the Seeker and Kline in front of me, their faces distorted in my vision. I was crying, I realized, and shivering violently. "Who was it, Cerian? Cerian!" Someone shook me, and I lashed out, hitting nothing. Shock made me feel cold to the marrow, and the room seemed to spin. "So cold -- freezing..." "Cerian!" The Soulseeker's voice cut me like a whip, forcing me to cry out - "It was Harold! It was my brother, Harold!" I couldn't breathe. I felt as though someone had pushed a knife in my lungs. It had been my dear, eldest brother -- rattling my windows, whispering in my ear, knocking on my door. But it couldn't have been, because Harold was dead! "Gargul's Eye!" barked Kline. "He didn't pass over!" "Apparently not," came the Seeker's terse reply, "and I suspect, neither did the other." I felt Kline supporting me. "Come, lad - you've just seen a ghost, that's all." I felt dizzy and took some deep breaths at Kline's insistence. Slowly, I came back to some sort of normalcy. What nightmare was this? "Kline -- we need to talk. Cerian, leave us." I was outside my own chambers before I knew what was happening. Dismissed by the Soulseeker. I tried to get a grip on my senses, angry that they had pushed me out. How dare they? Not to be outdone, I slipped quietly into the laundry closet next to my outer room. It had vents in the ceiling that let the sound drift through from elsewhere. There, I found I could just about hear what they were saying... "So, we have a ghost, and some ghouls. What do you make of it? Are they connected?" "Oh, without a doubt, Kline. This is a foul mess. What we don't know, is how Ulrich fits into all this." "Maybe someone is sending the ghouls -- to kill Cerian, and Harold is trying to warn him." "That's possible, Kline, but I'll be honest. I think the ghouls have another target." "Oh?" "Yes. This morning I discovered that Harold's widow is in the beginnings of pregnancy. I truly believe Ulrich killed Harold to stop him inheriting their father's throne. The fight must have been desperate, and terrible - emotive enough to throw Harold into the Realm of Shadow, and quite possibly, Ulrich too. Ulrich died. I'm sure that wasn't his intention. Let us say Ulrich somehow discovered Anna's pregnancy, and he's sending the ghouls to kill off Harold's heir -- finish the job, so to speak. Her rooms are not far from Cerian's, on this very same floor." "That's possible, but how would Ulrich do this? We're talking about a lot of power here. Evil power. He was only human, and besides -- wouldn't the crown pass to Cerian now that Harold and Ulrich are dead?" "No -- not unless both Harold and Ulrich died childless. All being well, Anna will give birth to a son. The bloodlines are without exception, carried forward by the eldest living male and his own offspring. That is the way of these kingdoms. As for Ulrich, he was a clever, but very vindictive man. He dabbled in magics far over his head. I strongly suspect he had help. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who wanted to break the lineage of this family. Ulrich on the throne would have spelled disaster for the entire region, and as we all know, disaster can be very profitable for some." A sigh. "If they're both out there, I need to find them, and destroy what they have become." "Indeed you must. This has wiped out generations of work. The more I think on it, the more I believe someone else was manipulating Ulrich. I'm going to summon Brother Marcos. You might have need of him. As for myself, I need to consult Gargul on this entire matter." I had heard enough. I burst out of the laundry closet and through the door to my rooms in a whirlwind of fury, my fists clenched, my nails digging into the flesh on my palms. "No one is going to destroy my brothers! Haven't they suffered enough?" My voice carried a strength I never realized I had. The Seeker turned toward me, her voice like the purr of a cat. Her eyes had returned to their milky state. "He's been listening." "How much did you hear, lad?" asked Kline, accusatory, doing nothing to quell my anger. "I heard everything!" I yelled. Damn them both. The Soulseeker waved her fingers dismissively. "It doesn't matter. Cerian was never a part of this. He was and still is, irrelevant." I felt myself lunging forward toward her, blinded by anger, only to be dragged roughly away by Kline. She actually smiled at me. "He has courage at least," she said. "Control him until I return." Without another word, she left. Kline slammed me down on my own bed so hard that I bounced. "You get a grip on that temper of yours lad, while you still have air to breathe." "While you destroy what's left of my family?" I yelled, "and what did she mean -- irrelevant? I know I failed, Kline! I know I wasn't there to stop them! Is that what she meant? Is it?" I was shouting at the top of my voice. My throat hurt and I was beginning to see spots in front of my eyes. Kline grabbed a chair and placed it nearby; there he sat down and watched me. After an uncomfortable moment of silence -- "Be thankful Cerian, that they choose to ignore you," he said. " Accept that you can build your own future. It was not so for your brother Harold, and I suspect the same went for Ulrich too." I was breathing deliberately, trying to calm myself as Kline continued. "Harold was the heir to a very important throne. I should not tell you of these things, but you must understand, there were many who were pulling his strings, some more powerful than you could ever imagine. You were always free of that, Cerian, and that is what she meant. No one blames you for what happened." "I could have stopped them, Kline -- I know I could." I felt foolish, all choked up with tears in my eyes. My unlikely guardian shrugged. "Maybe you could have, and then again, maybe not. But one thing is for sure, if your brothers have not passed into the Afterlife - this must be rectified. If our worst fears have been realized, that your brother Ulrich resides in the Realm of Shadow by his own will, then I must hunt him down and destroy him. People are meant to die, Cerian. That is the way of things." I felt a lump in my throat. "What about Harold?" Kline was about to answer, when the Soulseeker reentered the room followed by a man with skin so pale, I could almost see through it. "This is Brother Marcos," she announced. "Brother Marcos, this is Cerian." I saw Kline nod once toward this new stranger, and I followed suit. The man simply stared back, impassive, like I had no more relevance than the furniture in the room. This one frightened me more than Kline and Mother Jeneveere put together. He wore drab clothes and a chain around his neck. Hanging from it was some kind of bauble. It looked like a monster's open eye. At his feet, a strange mist gathered. Wisps of it curled and swept amongst the hem of his robes, and if that wasn't enough, I noticed that although both Soulseeker and Undead Hunter cast a distinct shadow on the floor of my room - Brother Marcos cast nothing. I wanted to run from this place. I needed fresh air and space so badly I could scream, but I also needed to know the fate of my brothers. "Why is he here?" I blurted. "What are you going to do?" Mother Jeneveere smiled 'through' me. "Brother Marcos is a Grim. He will assist Kline. We are going to put an end to all this nonsense." A Grim. I had heard the tales, wrapped in mystery, none of them good. Even in death, my brothers were doomed. I looked toward Kline in desperation. "Let me come with you, please!" "Out of the question, Cerian. I can assure you, the place we're going is not for the likes of you." Then I saw the Grim hold out a hand. "Wait. He might help the search." The man's voice was soft, musical -- deceptively light. "He is kin after all, and at this particular moment I cannot see them in the Realm. I sense nothing. Perhaps they will be drawn to him." What could this Grim see? I looked around wildly. All I saw were my own chambers. "If it will help solve this problem, then take him," said Mother Jeneveere in flat monotone, "but please, try not to lose Haemaland's only remaining son." They all looked at one another -- Undead Hunter, Soulseeker, and Grim - a trinity of mystery and gloom. It seemed I was to be used as bait, but I didn't care. Kline began to fire instructions at me, as swift as arrows -- stay close, avoid the rivers of red, bring your sword, stay out of my way... It went on and on. I understood little, but it did not matter. If something terrible was about to happen to Harold and Ulrich, I wanted to be there this time. Finally - "Keep your eyes on me until we arrive. That way you'll be less disoriented," said Kline, and began to sweep a pattern in the air with his left hand. I did as I was told, feeling a sudden drop in temperature. In the periphery of my vision everything seemed to blur and turn gray. Unable to stop myself, I began to look around. We stood in mist. Everything had lost its color and faded, everything except for a slow running stream a few feet away. It glowed with a vivid redness, like blood. I thought I could hear whispers coming from its depths, and without thinking, took a step closer. I felt a hand grip my arm. "No, Cerian. Stay away from that." I was mesmerized. "Kline, what is it?" "That's Woldsblood, carrying dead souls to their final resting place." "Is that what I can hear -- dead souls?" "Not exactly - come, we're wasting time." My room and everything in it had dissolved into something pale and insubstantial. Looking back I saw the outline of two people, but not the details. Kline stepped off on a dark path using a long, sure-footed stride. Having no wish to get lost in this place, I left the Soulseeker and the Grim behind, and followed quickly in Kline's footsteps. So this was the Realm of Shadow -- the Shadowlands. We moved fast. Traces of the living Wold faded quickly, leaving a barren landscape lit by the red glow of streams and rivers that flowed by our feet. Their call made it hard to concentrate. I hated to think what would happen if I fell asleep here. Occasionally we would see shapes in the gloom, and Kline would take another path to avoid them. I had no idea what they were, and I didn't want to know. The further we traveled, the more apprehensive I became. I found myself only half believing what Kline and Mother Jeneveere had told me. After all, it's hard to think of your kin as a ghost or an undead monster. It seemed ridiculous. Maybe they had tricked me. Maybe I hadn't seen Harold at all. Maybe the ghouls were the work of some evil sorcerer. It was difficult to see my brothers in this particular light. A little further on, Kline stopped. There was a vague humanoid shape on the path ahead. The Hunter drew his sword. I did likewise, taking note of how dull my blade looked, as though it was tarnished somehow. The thing came closer, and now I could see it was female. Shredded clothes drifted below a feral face that contained hard and predatory eyes. They glittered like amethysts. I found I couldn't stop looking at her. I felt her hunger, her delight, and above all, her need. Her will was crushing me, destroying my own, but as soon as she became aware of Kline, she backed off and snarled. Kline's voice took on a hard edge. "Well, that's not your brother," he growled. "Step back and keep moving. We don't have time to waste on this one." Slowly, we walked away from the creature. Kline's murderous eyes kept looking toward her. It made me shiver. Then I heard someone chuckling softly in the void to the left of me. I whirled around, looking to see who it was. "Well, well, Kline. It's not like you to let a perfectly healthy undead off the hook like that." In amongst the gray upon gray of our surroundings, I spotted something a little more substantial. It looked just like a shadow, a hint of someone there. I hadn't noticed it before. I certainly recognized the voice. "Very funny, Marcos," answered Kline with a sigh. He slammed his weapon back in its scabbard, and I took his cue to re-sheath my own. I didn't know what to say. This was Brother Marcos? The Grim? Had he been traveling with us all along? I was confused, and so decided at this stage it was better to keep my own council - to listen and learn. I continued silently, walking along with Kline and the strange shadow of Brother Marcos for company. We seemed to wander those paths for hours. Occasionally we would travel across areas that seemed thin, where we could see a glimpse of the living Wold beyond a haze of mist. Places like this were nearly always at the site of a glowing altar, its power pulling and focusing on both planes. The whispers continued in my head, beckoning me toward the red rivers. If I didn't concentrate it began to lull me toward a state of sleep. I had to keep thinking of things to stay awake, and I chose to think of better times, when Harold and Ulrich were alive, when we used to run through the castle playing games. Then, out of the mists - Cerian, beware... "Kline!" I stood perfectly still. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. "What is it, lad?" I spun around, scanning the area. My heart was thumping so fast I thought it would explode. "It's Harold!" I exclaimed. "I heard Harold!" I saw the shadow of Marcos the Grim move a short distance away, but nothing else met my eyes except for the gray of the surrounding land. "He's right. I sense a spirit," said the shadow. Behind us, I saw something approach, and without thinking I began to walk toward it. Kline was beside me in seconds. "Wait!" he snapped. "That -- is no spirit." I saw him then, approaching -- his hands, as always, clasped together in front of him. Part of his robe was torn, and one side of his face seemed distorted, as if cut. He looked thinner too, and in his eyes I saw longing, and something cruel. It was enough to stop me in my tracks. "Ulrich?" He smiled, and for a moment, those hard eyes softened, until they alighted on my companions. "Oh Cerian, you've brought a Grim and an Undead Hunter? Just for me? I'm flattered. I hope my ghouls didn't scare you. They would never have hurt you. You know that don't you?" "Ulrich, what happened? What did you do?" I felt a lump in my throat as I looked upon him. He seemed corrupted somehow, tainted, spoiled. "I'm sorry, little brother. Did we upset you, Harold and I?" He reached out and tried to touch me. Lulled by his words, it suddenly appeared as though nothing was wrong. I knew no fear -- I wanted him to touch me, to embrace me, I wanted him to come alive in my hands. I wanted him to come home. That was when Kline pushed me away so hard I stumbled and fell. A bitter, horrific fight began. Right before my eyes, the Undead Hunter began to destroy my brother Ulrich systematically, and masterfully - spell by spell, blow by blow, piece by piece. I tried to stop him but I couldn't, for Marcos the Grim had fully materialized right behind me, and try as I might, I could not break the grip he had on me. It was merciless, it was cruel - it was absolute. Ulrich's final tortured words burned inside me like a brand on my heart. I would never forget them - "This... will not stop me. Harold will NEVER... be King." When it was over Marcos let me fall to my knees. I felt my soul torn in pieces, and my body wracked and convulsed as tears streamed down my face. I heard Brother Marcos's singsong voice. "Ulrich underestimated you, Kline. Otherwise he would not have come." I wanted to curl up and sleep, and let the red river take me. Although Ulrich had turned into some kind of monster, to see him cut down like that was hard to bear. He was my brother. But there was more to come - Help me, Cerian... The thought drifted through my head, and the horror of what I'd just seen began to fall apart and swirl like autumn leaves caught in the wind. Instead I saw Harold. He looked mortified. Cerian, please... promise me, that you'll protect my child... I nodded, dumfounded, and saw a smile lessen the sadness drawn on his face. I became aware of Brother Marcos standing over me. I couldn't see Harold anymore -- he'd gone, drifted from my sight, but it appeared that the Grim could, for he was staring into the space above my head, and chanting softly. "Your brother has joined the River of Souls, Harold, and so must you. It is over." I felt something - acquiescence or maybe defeat. All of a sudden, I knew they were both gone. Kline helped me to my feet. My legs had turned to jelly. "Are you alright?" he asked. "He -- he told me to look after the baby," I blurted. "Did he now?" The Undead Hunter smiled, a jagged crack in a ruined face. He had a new cut on his cheek, presumably a parting gift from Ulrich. " Well then you must," he continued. "Come, it does not pay to stay in this realm for any longer than necessary." "I will go on ahead," sighed Brother Marcos. He seemed tired, depleted of energy. "The Soulseeker will want to know what happened." "I hope she's satisfied," I muttered as Marcos winked out of sight, and we were left with only his shadow for company. "This has been an unusual time for you," offered Kline as we picked our way back over the dark landscape. "What happened was a terrible, but thankfully rare thing. You must put it behind you, and live your life as I'm sure your brothers wanted you to." His voice was matter of fact, his wrecked face bleeding but impassive; he seemed completely unfazed by what he had done. I nodded, but kept silent. I know he was trying to help, and I didn't blame him for destroying Ulrich. Instead I focused on what my brother had said in his final moments. Those final, defiant words were beginning to manifest as a purpose within me. I had made a promise to Harold, and I would keep it. I would protect my unborn brother with my life. I would study and master the means necessary - I was going to become an Undead Hunter, just like Kline, and if it meant that I had to face Ulrich, or others like him in the future, then so be it. This was my destiny. It was never about luck, and I am still in mourning... |
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