Chapter II

The innkeeper son


Poverty and disorder spread inevitable thought the kingdom by imposition of laws and rules that turned half of the population into slaves. Only the same half that had been slave before in history. If the majority of tyranny acts started to be an apology to attract ancient enemies, in that time, became a common act. Alliances and betrayals. Rumors and myths never became so fashionable.
One of the heroes was brutally murderer in one of the rooms. Keen knew him as the miller, a tormented but kind man, which family had deserted him, for he lost every possession in game and vice in the nearest cities. He had not had a single heroic thing in him, at all; Keen could not imagine that some day that man had been a true hero. At least not a hero as he understood. In a certain way, Keen agreed with the storyteller, there were no heroes left. How villainous they had been. By turning their back to a needed king, let Evar face his death by his own people’s hand, so they too deserved to die.
He kept that thought to him. The twins face by his feet hunted him every night they also wanted revenge. What motivation could the storyteller had started by killing his friends if Soren did not even know them?
Keen stood up from his bed, the room, darkened by a moonless night brought some pacifying silence.
The old professor Morlar. The twin’s father. The children whose lives harvested in that unfortunate night… They actually have been the only children murdered. With all the commotion, he did not paid attention to all around him. He became blind as soon as he saw Gellie lying dead on the floor. The flowers fragility crushed. He did not have to raise his eyes to the corner of the room, he was certain to find her, staring in her pale tone, begging him to avenge her. Whatever he knew the visions of the twins over him while he slept were not only a fruit of his imagination, he could not refrain from shiver. He lighted a candle to scare away the images, but in that instant he saw them both, sited by his bed, hollowed eyes dark and despair.
The hot candle fell on his skin and the candle on the floor. He ignored the pain from the bruise. He stood there quietly, only his heart beating fast and heavy breathing in the darkest night, when he heard the bed cracking, steps towards the door, and the door closing when it did not moved at all.
Keen stood motionless. His imagination was beyond the limit, it was worse during isonomy, when nightmares come true. The door opened slowly, squeaked until light from the corridor shown completely. There was no draught able to open his closed door. He walked to close it but the door closed again with force, by his side was Esian´s face.
Keen hold his breath, left the room in a hurry and tripped at the stairs. He did not intend to return upstairs right away. He would not speak of nightmares or visions to his father, for it would upset him, especially if he told him he could see the twins since that night.
If the storyteller’s aim was Soren, why did he murder the twins also? There were no warriors by that time in the village, no one to stand against him. He remembered his courage at the time. He had hit him, for sure, but for some reason survived when his friends did not. Gellie showed again, this time, at the top of the stairs, even in the light. She crouched to hold her knees. Keen ran down the stairs where he had been seating to conquer some peace.
He crossed the room; he needed to breathe some icy fresh air that night. He was dizzy, so dizzy that he did not foresee his father was not alone.
Even when he closed his eyes, he could see them.
His body was feverish with resolution. He was the only one to reply the attack; even as a seven-year-old boy, he had plenty of determination, more than any man from that village did. Ten years later, there was not only a single word about the assassin or any kind of retaliation.
The king’s troops spread through the kingdom harvesting every man or woman able to make a stand against the capital laws. Fear turned the villages into deserts until the kingdom frontiers.
As time went by, Keen could not forget, nor the twin’s ghost made it easier. Silence over the matter became unbearable to him.
No one would talk about the happening, it was like the children and even Soren never existed. If only they could see them as he could. Keen opened his eyes and quickly closed the window shutter as he seen Esian´s hand reaching out to him.
His father punished him badly every time he mentioned the twins name, and even more if he asked what really happened that night, because when he woke up, his mind was something between the storyteller’s tale and the real facts. As if, the story was the same. As for the teachers behaviors it only had one explanation. Resolution had awakened the heroes by killing their children. However, the twin’s father never took that feeling. Morlar never awakened a thing in him beside dullness.
“What are you doing?” Keen jumped. His heart could not stand for more anxiety in that night.
“I can’t sleep!”
“Go to your room! Sleep will come sooner than you think!
Keen stared at the sitting man by the table, leaning over another empty glass.
Resolution had never had anything to do with that drunken man; on the contrary, it grew in a child, inside his chest, all those years, corroding his soul. Sometimes was so unbearable just to remember. That evening, rage and vengeance filled with resolution searched the village but did not find its target, because Keen took it all to him. Wrath lived within every since the children’s death.
“Don’t you have practice in the morning?” he nodded, pale, suet came down his face when he saw Gellie embrace the man by the table, the teachers expression became more sorrowfully, as if he couldn’t bare the girl’s touch.
There was so much light in that room, how could he still imagine them with such strength. Was he going mad?
“Don’t you hear me boy?”
Since that day he gave himself to sword training, even when his father forbidden it, even when no one offered to teach him, he started to learn by himself. He wanted to chase the assassin as soon as he woke up that day, with a wood sword in hand, strength and the will of a true hero; he thought that was enough to take him down. Was he the enemy, king or demon, as those who devour the warriors at the boundary and the gravel woods, leaving only dirty feather by its passing. He would take a stand against any single one.
He remembered being the only seven years old child to make a move when no one did. His mind wondered. Why was he still alive? The answer tormented him every night with tumults dreams. He survived because he was no hero’s son, for not damaging enough his enemy, for being so ordinary as any one of the villagers that survived, for being not a true hero.
“Keen!” his father was mad. He squeezed his face to get his attention from the trance, his voice sounded deep but concerned. “You’re frozen. It’s like you saw a ghost. Aren´t you feeling ok? Go as your mother to
“don’t have to wake her! It was only a nightmare!” he looked the other way not to face his father. “And I aint a kid anymore!”
It took ten years to Keen convince him self that he was a man able to take his revenge the way thought. He was yearning for that moment year after year. Time had come.
There was not a single trace of that night’s tragedy at the inn, but Keen could still fell the blood stench near the fireplace. By the evenings, that place was taken by Damne Morlar. Every night the teacher sat peacefully by the fire with preys as his companion. Usually when the room was already empty, his father kept him company as well.
Keen could not understand how he could let that crime go by. He had a theory, though. Cowardice! That was the only reason that could justify such dullness act, bigger than his desire to avenge his murdered children.
Keen swept the floor trying to hear the conversation. He had to do something, anything that did not make him look; he did not wish to see the twins all over their father.
The alarm echoed. The broom fell on the floor. It was the alarm from the tower over the well in the middle of the square. The watching man from the highest tree urged to let the message though with a second blow, than silence. It was time to ignore the senses. Keen covered his ears, closed firmly his eyes because his father did not had the time to close every window. They did it for their sanity, while the creatures could pass through the village with no interest in them, or as a locust plague. There was no way to tell. If so, nothing would remain. However, the teacher did not reacted at all.
The inn shook, as a flight of mad birds flew through the tight streets against the walls. Windows and shuts vibrated. The sound became unbearable, like snake’s tail scales driven them insane. Keen shrugged. There would be much more to sweep on the floor in a second and out side, if he had the courage to lurk, the bloody curdle feathers.
He was not yet the man he wished to show. Nor did he have the strength of a value warrior. He thought of himself as a brave man, and he would face the first to doubt that certainty, but to say the truth even his currently teacher gave up any hope to see a progress in his sword skills.
Resolution, as the storyteller spoken of, had no reason to come for him. He had nothing precious, or so he thought. Nor did he have any value to fear loosing. No flaws, but his enemies were not aware of his existence at all. However, his choice was to take his vengeance. He felt chosen by destiny to fulfill that mission. Years gone by and he still kept his determination to win, to become such a hero able to reach his enemy, and fulfill his vow. As for the storyteller, he would chase him to infinitive and beyond.
Silence.
The creatures had crossed the village away from the inn.
“Finish your chores and go upstairs, its late. You don’t seem to well” the innkeeper smoothed Keen`s face with concern when he looked at Damne, the twins were gone. Maybe the fear from the Strangers made his mind come back to reality for instance.
“I always thought time would make me understand him a little better but”
Keen saw the way his father looked at the professor, since he had came to town with his children he could never had a pacifying conversation with no one beside his father they had some strange friendship.
They called him the professor, for he had a school build with his own hands, few parents allowed their children to waste their time with books. Keen even visited the polished wood building for a few times, he had the time of his life, the studying part been not as pleasurable as skinning his knees in no end of fun with his friends. Since their death, school ended.
Damne became harder to deal than usually.
His father looked at him, not with disregard, but with compassion.
The innkeeper swept the table and filled the jar before him at the same moment that made Keen a sign to go upstairs that instant. The man was worn-out, he was mere a shadow of this own memory. Of course, Vangard made a mistake when he murdered his sons, that man was nothing. He could not have been a hero.
“Go on! Up you go…”
“Why does he stay there staring at the floor? Can he still see the bloodstains? I can’t accept such behavior dad, its morbid and
“You should be thankful. He pays enough to keep the business going. After the incident no one dare to climb the stairs anymore, as much as coming over to. He saved us back there. With time people stopped thinking this was a damned house.”
“Danmed all right! Saved us?” he growled like the dog that used to follow him over the back yard. “The man stays every night, why does he need to remember if he doesn’t have the intention to take the action about it?”
“Leave him alone. If he hovers back, there it’s because he didn’t see his children die! That’s why. Now go!” The innkeeper thrust him forward to the stairs. It was closing time; however, it was that man’s gold that kept the business going so well, that was the reason for their politeness and no way would they drive him away from his memories.
Keen felt annoyed, what was the reason for such reverence? He looked back and saw his father lower his head in a subtle bow before the professor. He was not teaching anymore, he was always drunk. If he was really a true hero… but that man was nothing, resolution was wrong about him. There was no memory whatsoever of a heroic exploit from him, not even when he found the vandalized school building by the road at the end of the village.
“Stop that nonsense father, he doesn’t deserve it,” he returned down stairs but his father expression turn him in to stone.
“That’s enough!! Go away right now! I won’t say it again, climb those damned stairs and don’t leave until morning, or you’ll never see a real sword in your entire life!”
Keen run upstairs but did it against his will.
“Is it closing time already? You are closing this den every day sooner and sooner.”
“There’s no one to attend for hours, it should be morning soon. Today was a bad day, that’s all.”
“Am I not a good costumer? Will you not serve me?”
“I will always serve you my” Damne silenced him with a reproving stare. “I will serve you Morlar.
Keen could not understand what they were saying but his father was standing expecting some reaction from the professor that reached for his glassed and drank a taste towards him.
“Well then, I am a costumer. Are you trying to run away from your work? Never saw you as a lazy man. You are old. We all are… but I am still here, and my glass is empty, what are you waiting for? Bring one for you too.”
“It’s getting late.”
“That’s good. Bring the bottle also. It will become sooner in a few hours, its almost dawning – he moved his hand in circles as he was thinking, “and the younglings shall be full of dreams and hope.” His speech was slow with sorrow. “That is an angry boy you have upstairs. Do not now if you are lucky or not.”
“He didn’t mean to offend you; the truth is that he doesn’t now what he’s saying. Don’t mention him, he’s a fool.”
“He´s just a boy. That is all there is to say. Mine would be his age by now, maybe my sweet Gellie could be his wife and together they would run this joint, better than you do.”
Keen shivered by hearing the girl’s name. He wanted to come closer to listen better. He thought he could leave thought the back door, go around the building and sit under the window.
“What doubts hunt you? Speak your mind once for all.”
The innkeeper made a gesture to ask for permission and sited by his side, he filled the glasses before he started, that moment Keen went around the stairs, no noise made, sweat down his face for he did not wish to make a sound or his father would kill him. Damne followed him with some amusement as he drank at one gulp.
“Sore was the last one to perish. And he died in my house.”
“Do not mention that. Heroes died, one by one. Hunted. Do not forget that, but do not talk about that matter either.”
“If they all are death, I do not now, but if he believes it so, it means that there were man that died in place of the true heroes, who knows how many, which survived or not with another name. Keen is alive, he was two steps away from his sword and he did not touch the boy. I just… forgot the reason for all of this.”
“There is no reason. Don’t worry about your family, you’re not a part of this story. You were out of town by that time. Your name wasn’t mention on the records for the man to be hunted, there were still a few month before you took Evar´s honors as his young knight. Theoretically, you were not one of us when this began. Forget this matter and pour me more wine.”
“Its been ten years since Vangard started the hunt of
“After the massacre, Vangard impaled the man that betrayed me, and started the hunt for seven man and their families, those who claimed heroes in our places made it by their own accord, by some stupidity that even I can’t understand, maybe by fame, glory. Today they are corpses, like my children.”
“How did we let him take the throne?”
“That is an easy answer. We run away!” he drank again with just one gulp and turned his head to the window. Keen arrived. “The king was dead a man on his own can’t make the difference at all.”
“I heard you say the opposite one day… We were great, almost divine, and you left all behind, as if those deaths didn’t meant a thing. I don’t now if I could be in your place if Keen had been”
“You think of me as a coward.”
“No, my lord.”
“It was not a question.”
“No!” Keen peeped, if the dog wasn’t barking by his eyes he could had understood any word. He cursed. He could listen better by the stairs than over there. He ignored the dirty feather by the Stranger’s passing, grabbed the stick from the dogs mouth and thrown it far away. “I’ve tried to think of you as a coward, but I can’t. Damned you, Damne! Don’t you ever think what might be happening at the White Chapel?”
“I thought we had decided that the capital was no longer our problem when we obeyed to run away,” he emptied the glass in to his mouth as if it was water.
Keen heard his father laugh it was a strange thing to hear. Beside it had made the professor gave up the drinking for an instance.
“Damned you, Damne! You did never hear that expression again, did you. It was damned famous between your kin, friends, it suited you pretty well. It was somewhat catchy. Damed you, Damne.” The innkeeper strike his hands on the table, Keen had already saw his father get mad, but that time his eyes were demonic. “I didn’t mention it to bring the past over again, but the moment just asked for it, the king was only the only man capable of undoing that stubbornness of yours.”
Damne moved his head toward the window for a moment, in a slow motion opened the window and breathed the fresh air. Keen hunkered down, hands over his mouth, that way he could hear every single word also. The dog ran pathetically happy towards him, Keen was in shock. Shook his head, the more he did it the faster the dog ran with his happy tail.
“I know the reason that turned you in to this, and to speak the openly, my lord, it makes my guts twist as if you were not worthy being call a man. Even in shadow you are still more legendary that you ever could wish for.”
“Don’t wish. Only foolish women wish. Girlish dreams that never come true.”
“I guess that makes me a girl, and a very ugly one.”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll buy you a dress tomorrow at the market when I’ll choose between rotten apples those that can still been eaten. Send that boy of yours to me, I have seen him practice with Daile, that idiot doesn’t know what he is doing, he will ruin the lad.” Damne looked to Keen, smiled, and stepped away before he could see him.
The boy choked the dog’s barking and looked up. No one had seen him he was safe. He returned to his room unable to fall asleep. He practically did not ear a thing about the conversation but he understood they had some kind of secret between them. However, the professor last request was still echoing in his mind and he did not sound so drunk after all. Why was he so happy about that?
“I don’t think he will accept that.”
“He will. I bet he will.”

“Why life is so dull?”
“I don’t understand you tedious, your majesty, after all you have conquered? Don’t the slaves please you?” There was no emotion on his face; it was like talking to a walking statue. The man obeyed his orders and questioned the king without any feeling attachment. “Do you wish for me to remove those nasty ill-omened demons from the front yard? They are infecting the palace. Rotting everything, they touch. There are feathers and blood everywhere and”
“Why there are no more heroes? There is nothing heroic capable of walking through the front gate to challenge me? Why my enemies decided to ignore me? How many years since he passed away? After him there was no one else to defy me, if only time could turn back, I would do it a different way.”
“You would spare his life, your majesty?”
“I would kill him with my bare hands. May be today they would be singing my name and not his. Evar, Evar, Evar here, Draquemar there! I thought if I let them kill each other I would be a hero for both tribes. However, they still mention their former king as a god over the land. It’s my throne now. They own me respect. Where are they now? The heroes? They are taking so long…”
“They tried, your majesty, pass the gate, I mean…” the commander closed the window, luxury glass from the South. He covered it with the heavy velvet curtain. He hated those creatures of whitish eyes; they made him forget his humanity.
“Yes? And what happened?
“You slaughter them, your majesty.”
“Oh, yes, it was… no one survived. They ate them, didn’t they?”
“Tomorrow will be a better day.”
The commander stood by his side. The room was empty. The valets made every possible not to approach the king. They feared him and his bad temper. That made Droiel the quietest place in the kingdom. A tower in ruins, northward away from the capital, in the middle of the destruction.
“As the day before and the day that follows. They are all the same. People fear me, pay me, and obey me. Children cry, scream. Life is so dull…”
“Do you wish for a woman, my lord?”
“No woman… bring me a boy.”
The commander stepped down one stair to look him sited at the throne, he wished to the face of such an awkward request.
“Did you say a boy?”
“I don’t want the boy for what you’re thinking! His name is Keen” the king smiled, “he is older by now, I forgot him, I made him a promise.”
“Who is this boy?”
“The responsible for this scar” showed his left hand.
“Survived?”
“He did.” The king stood up from the throne to stretch his arms while he walked towards the fruit table.
“You were very merciful that day. It was a bad day, don’t say…”
“At the time his death wasn’t my goal. Nevertheless, his life became… I anticipated this day, when there were no more enemy to vanquish, so I let him live” he choose some grapes. “I knew this day would come, in this room, I would be bored to death, with nothing more to conquer, or defeat. I just made my own challenge, that’s all.”
“Are you certain he still lives? Poverty spread all over the kingdom till the vast blue, and you left those creatures running free little as survive of small towns, hunger killed many, so did the plague.”
“I always spread death, made man beg, cry, shout, die… but this one, was the first I made live. I wonder what he had become, how his life has been wonderful with my name printed on his nightmares. He is almost like a son.”
“I see… Where do you wish me to hunt this boy?
“In the Broken Crown forest” he smiled again. “Or should I get him myself?”
“No, my lord. Stay. You would die of tedious for the journey that awaits me; there is no more danger in any road all over the kingdom. Not for you at least. You shall have a better time if you stay, I am sure of it” he bowed before leaving.
The commander left the room and his instinct made him hold his breath. The old woman felt about all the walls of the corridor and she was a step of touching him. She sniffed him. Venian did not move, nor when she touched his chest and made her hands slide until his belly, than she felt his manhood. If she were not blind, she would know his emotionless face did not jerk at all, however she could sense the disgust that he felt by her mere existence and laughed.
“Do you wish the company of my demons to your journey?”
“Not at all!” he walked slowly away from her with some difficulty because her hands were all over him.