Thunk.
Goes the sound of my elderly comrade, waking me up from my only slumber of the last three days, with nothing but a bottle of lager – a wont, I suppose, taken from his father. We have been on foot for most of our journey, but now that I have my rear sat on something solid, I couldn’t be blamed for drifting off. I grudgingly adjusted my head towards my companion, eyes still wearily half-closed.
“Sir, may I request that you refrain from hitting me on the head too much? I would not want ending up old and senile like you are.”
“Hush, lad,” said he. “We are at our destination. Get on your feet! We don’t want our patrons waiting.” He chuckled slightly, as he left his bottle on the carriage unbeknownst to its owner, and had his sight set on the village before us. “It has been quite some time, indeed.”
He is Hans Rapad, my senior and comrade; an official of the Knightage, and an old friend of the King’s. Although I am not very fond of the man – as he is unbrushed, and an alcoholic – he is one reliable ally.
As we made our way through the woods, and towards the village gate, we met with one of the guards who seemed to have been waiting for us.
“Are you Hans of the Knightage?” asked the stern guard.
“Yes, I am,” the man introduced, “and this is my apprentice, Desmond Orlo. We were sent here by the King himself to investigate the shipwreck, if I am not mistaken?”
“Yes,” the guard replied. “The chief has been expecting you. Please follow me; I shall take you to him immediately.”
We passed the gates, and were welcomed hospitably by the villagers. Curious children came following, one after the other, presenting crafts and fruits of various kinds. The scene was quaint, and peaceful; it seemed as though nothing was out of the ordinary. I was still unsure of our objective, honestly; I wasn’t briefed and was only asked to come along. Even if he did, perhaps, I would not have been interested -- I had nothing in mind but the thought of sleep. Bags were hanging around my eyes; I was sure I had frightened some kids away – not that I liked them to begin with.
The guard, Erik – as he introduced himself – directed us into to the largest cabin in town. The wooden foundation beamed of age; its floors creaked audibly with our each step, which panicked crows into flight. The door led to a rather small lounge where we were to wait for the chief.
“I will be informing the chief of your arrival,” said Erik. “So please have a seat and make yourselves at home.”
On the cabin walls, framed rather elegantly in mahogany, were pictures of which I presumed to be people of importance. One frame, however, was crooked, unkempt and was kept a fair distance from the others. It was a portrait of an austere man, with dark eyes, and a grim glare. It didn’t take long for Hans to notice that it had piqued my interest, as placed his hand on my shoulder. “That is Drake, me boy,” he claimed.
“Well, you seem to know a lot” I sighed. I could see his smirk grow wider as he observed the intensifying curiosity behind my raised brows.
“I won’t tell you much,” said he, “but I will tell you the special bit. You see, me boy, he was born and raised in this very village, but disappeared years later in search of something beyond him – power!”
Before he could continue, his monologue was cut short by the chief’s arrival. The chief was short and rather reticent, and old as anyone would expect; however, he was wise and competent, I’ve been told. Followed behind him were the guard and another man clothed in robe. We held our heads down in courtesy as my senior introduced ourselves.
“I am Hans Rapad of the Knightage,” said he. “And this here is my apprentice Desmond. We were sent here by the King himself to be of service to the village.”
“And I am Gilligan,” responded the chief. “I have been expecting your group, but might I suggest we discuss this over a cup of coffee, Hans? Your journey must have been long and exhausting.”
“We’ll graciously accept your offer, chief.”
“Brillant,” the chief chuckled. “But before we do so, let me introduce these men who will keep you company for your quest’s duration, young Desmond. This is priest Mojr; he will be your medic.” The man in robe stepped in.
“Hey!” he went, all happy and giddy. “Nice ta meet ya! Name’s Mojir, an Academy novice. You must be Desmond.”
“Yes, Desmond, one of the Knightage,” I said, as we shook on it.
A reticent kid comes in from the next room, with a welcoming expression. “And this,” the chief introduced, “is Urielle, a crescentia. He shall be your spiritual protector.”
“Spiritual protector?” I asked. “Could there anything beyond physical means around the delta?”
“There could be, indeed,” said the chief. “We don’t know very much about the shipwreck, and that is why you are here to investigate. It’s best, I believe, to be safe and sure.” I nodded in agreement.
“I am Urielle of the Shadow union,” introduced the little one, as he bowed his head in courtesy. “It is great to meet your acquaintance, gentlemen.” He seemed to be quite posh for a youngster. I grabbed his hand and shook on it, “Desmond, of the Knightage.”
“OHHH~!” yelled Mojr. “You are so adorable!”
The smile on Urielle’s face seemed very uncomfortable as Mojr leapt at him for hug, lifting him up a few feet in the air. “Uhm, yes, sir, nice to meet you.”
“Ain’t he just adorable, Desmond?!” I had no proper response, but a nod.
“Mojr’s the name; great to meet you!” said my companion, excitedly, as he set Urielle down and furiously shook his hands. The boy had no choice but to give him a friendly grin.
“You three seem to be in good spirits already!” interjected Hans. “Why don’t y’all pack and snack whilst the chief here and I go over the details of the investigation? It’ll be a great opportunity to acquaint with each other better as well.”
“Right on it, sir!” said the priest. Quite the energetic one, he is. Hans would love him. Awful news for me though; seems I won’t be getting any rest at all with him around. Mojr busted out the front door without concern to the officials we just had with us.
“Let’s go, chumps!” said he, and we followed along.
It took us about half an hour to pack, and another to snack. All the while we had little conversations of the time we had learning the ins-and-outs of our differing unions. Although I did not have much to say, it was a very interesting hour indeed.
Apparently, Mojr – like myself – never knew his parents, and was taken in by the Academy when he was found right outside the gates of Prontera. He said his “bright blue eyes, and glinting blonde hair” made the veterans believe he’ll be one charming priest. I bet they thought he’d be good at preaching as well with so much to say.
Urielle – or Urie –, on the other hand, had always been a taciturn child. He was brought up to be as well-mannered as possible. Owing a great deal to his carers, he thought, it’d be a deed out of gratitude to do as he is told. He spoke in courtesy more often than not, and had this aura of higher class compared to us orphans. His hair was of chestnut hue, so were his eyes. His skin was pale like most noels, and had a tinge of purple. Mojr said that Urie reminded him of milk chocolate.
“Lads,” muttered Hans as he entered our petite cabin. “Have you prepared to go on your trek?”
“We have,” I responded. “Is there anything else we need to know before heading?”
“Activity there is benign,” said he. “Just be safe.”
“I’m here, what’s there to be worried about?” Mojr confidently interjected, and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Your boy Des here is safe with me, sir.”They both shared a hearty laugh before Hans set us on our way.
The dusk was falling quick. We had set trail up west and will be meeting with some locals to guide us through. There would be wild and hostile creatures along the way.
We have met with Rink, a local travelling vendor from the village. He hikes about gathering loots and materials for people seeking the abundant and healthy produce of the delta. He briefed us on certain creatures we'd probably meet. The adorable, stem-footed gerbils were not to be messed with. Our group was told to traverse the trails through the woods rather than walk through the shore, since the sands were rife with human-sized mollusks, and cannibalistic seals which wore the skins of their prey for armour. Even the most endearing creature we'll come across, he said, we should be wary of.
It took us about an hour to reach the end of our trail. Urie led us through -- channeling the supposed ominous arua emitted from the shipwreck. We moved south towards the shore, opposite the bride leading to the next village. Mandageru's were in sight, and so was the well-known, gigantic tree of the delta. We could see the shipwreck form its sillhoutte before the waning moon. Seeing the actual thing gave a slight chill to my spine.
"We're here, gentlemen" alerted Urie, as we proceeded towards the dock, where piles of bones and shells of hermits lay, and distracted critters came to feast on. As we all step foot into the wreckage, we collectively cover our noses in revolt.
"Man alive," uttered Mojr. "It's bloody putrid in here, isn't it? Dark, too." He waved his mace to produce light.
"Indeed," said I. "There are no dead bodies in sight though, besides those we've seen outside. The stench must've seeped into the rotten wood." One by one, we walked in deeper, cautiously. We didn't know what could be hiding here.
"There is no doubt that the black aura comes from here," says Urie, "It's dense, and along with this stench, almost suffocating." -- a strange notion I thought, since the wreckage was quite wide, and empty. There was nothing much to see within the musty wreck in its current state besides tattered cloth, rusted metal, and decaying wood. The night was unsound, so it didn't take us long to decide to carry it out by daybreak, when the dark aura hopefully won't be too strong to distract.
As we went our way out the crummy patch, Mojr made the least confident comment he's ever made since our meeting: "This area does not feel safe at all." His voice shook in the slightest; I could’ve sworn he lost the glimmer in his eyes that moment.
A certain distance from the wreckage was an abandoned cabin we were told to set camp into. Even the cabin seemed strange – it blended too well with the dead trees surrounding. There were three rooms; each had one small bed and a drawer beside. This should be enough; we’d be gone by tomorrow anyway. And as we lay in our respective places, we bid each other well nights. Finally my long-awaited sleep has finally come.
***
Thunk. Thunk. THUNK.
I was woken up by slow heavy pounding somewhere. I was still drowsy, but I noticed it was quite silent still, so I figured everyone was still in their beds, sleeping. Thunk. Thunk. It kept going. I stood up from under the covers, lit the lamp on my bedside table, and took a knife from the drawer. The area seemed darker tonight.
I snooped around, and could hear the pounding get louder, but from the direction I wasn't expecting. It was coming from the back of the cabin. I was baffled. Thunk. Thunk. It sounded strangely synchronised. But really, I thought. Who could be this drunk to be visiting an old, abandoned cabin at this god-forsaken hour?
Thunk... Thunk... Ever so slowly the hammering fades, but still fell heavily onto the wall. Every pound was now synched with my heartbeat. It made me hesitant to open door, but I reached for it anyway. I grasped the knob firmly, and pushed it open.
Nothing. Thunk. Nothing but wind bursting onto my face that cold night. Until I turned my head, and there -- thunk -- I saw, staring into my soul -- thunk -- hanging from a noose tied to a tree, swung my already lifeless ally... Urie. His eyes were wide-open... and pitch black, and so was the fluid that ran down from them.
I couldn't move then. My sight narrowed as vertigo struck. A million thoughts were rushing into my head. Was the lack of sleep making me hallucinate? Until reality hit me, I had to put Urie down. I must. "Mojr!" I yelled for my friend. "Mojr!" No response.
I was in panic. He was so high up; his waist was at eye level. I had to hold his body still as the wind kept pushing him onto the wall. I did what I could and climbed up the tree, onto the sturdy branch where the noose was tied. I closed my eyes and sliced through the rope. I heard my friend's corpse fall hard on the ground, as I dismounted. I grabbed him, and carried his petite body inside the cabin whilst yelling for my companion, "Mojr!" I laid Urie down and ran to Mojr's room.
His room was completely dark and empty. No sign of him anywhere. His clothes and luggage were gone, and his bed was made. Nothing in there but a book laid on his bedside table -- it was his bible. I picked it up only to find its pages ripped and loose and have fallen to the ground. The text on each pages were scribbled and washed-out as though it was splattered black ink.
Despite my disarray, I trekked out to return to the village as soon as possible, hauing what's left of my friend. I have no words to explain what happened. I felt so weak and useless not to have protected my allies. Deaths happen, but only to the old. My friend was younger than the rest of us, and has now died in odd and unknown circumstances.
I broke the peace in the village when I arrived -- sweating and panting. I saw Hans horrified face when he came to me. We took Urie to the village medic with the slightest hope. But… They could not bring Urie back; his soul was "gone,” he said.
I thought for a moment that maybe… if I had just ran out the door immediately as I heard the pounding, would Urie still have been alive right now? It crossed my mind how he could have been pleading for help whilst the rope was choking the life out of him, yet none came to his aid, not even I, his protector. This piercing headache… I need to sleep.
Hans came, handing me a page from the bible Mojr left. On it, scrawled in black, was the word: Drake.