Following Blindly

Mercedes Lackey "Heralds of Valdemar" FanFiction

-Chapter One-

It wasn't unusual to not be able to locate Ashlen, he often disappeared when company was expected. If not to avoid odd looks and the fondling of relatives it was to avoid the noise. Shelen didn't even bother looking for his twin anymore, he'd come out of hiding when it was convenient for him like always. The slender young man of seventeen covered the distance from the great hall to the south door in a few moments, his long athletic legs covering a great deal of distance in a short time. As the heavy wooden south wing door swung open and the sunlight hit Shelens dark brown hair it shimmered an odd golden-red color. The thin mustache on his upper lip was kept neatly trimmed as was his short cropped auburn hair. To the despair of his mother he had never worn his hair long like his brother; he saw no reason to fuss over it. The length of his hair had no effect on his devilish good looks however; he was very popular with the serfs and massive number of cousins that populated his family's Barony on the western edge of the kingdom of Valdemar.

The Hethlight Barony was ages old and its large, castle like, main house stood three stories over its residents. With the large a jointed stable and arms store house, twelve-foot stone wall that surrounded the majority of the main house and a good sized parcel of farming land, it was fully equipped to function under a long siege. The sturdily built gate that was closed every night, open only to those who could prove themselves guests of Barony, was open now. Shelen often went for long rides along the open trails that branched off the main road into the hilly lands to the east or the deep woods to the west of his home but today he was on his way to the guard tower, not the stable. Reports of roving bandits had reached his father's ears and he was to help lead some men out and see if they could pinpoint the whereabouts of the marauding thieves' camp. As his father's heir it was only decent to make his presence known and respected before his had to take his father's place.

The sound of raised voices caught his ears and he groaned to himself as he changed his course to find, and if necessary, call a halt to the source of dispute. He rounded the corner of one the many buildings that lined the main way to manor to find a slew of cousins arguing in the alley between the blacksmiths and grain store house.

"What's the trouble?" He asked in a commanding tone

The loud prattle stopped as if choked out by fire and each of the cousins suddenly looked nervously at him but none of them had the courage to reveal their argument. Shelens sharp ears picked out a muffled whimper over the day to day noises of the holding. He pushed aside the wall of cousins and immediately removed his jacket. He handed it to the young servant girl cowering in the corner, her tunic ripped and her skirt crumpled around her ankles.

"Are you alright?" he asked, noting that her bloomer were still secure around her hips. She nodded as she gathered herself. "Go." he said to her flatly, he felt her rise shakily and whisk herself off and back to the servants' quarters behind him as he rounded on the cousins.

Reaching out, he closed his fingers around the wood of some long handled tool that had lost its head. They blabbered, and whined, and pleaded that they had meant no harm but he gave them each a sturdy thrashing with the broken tool and sent them all off to the weapons' master with their tails between their legs. It was necessary, though he wasn't proud of the fact, to discipline some of the more rambunctious foster-children from time to time. He leaned the now dented pole against the wall from which he'd taken it and looked upward as a quick shadow crossed the gap in-between the buildings, blocking out the sunlight for but a moment. The short glimpse of long black hair whipping around in the wind was the first and probably last he would see of his twin that day, if he was lucky.

The tales of the connection between twins didn't seam to apply to his twin and himself, at least not any more. He could remember faintly a time when he was much closer to his brother but they had grown further and further apart in recent year till they were no longer alike in anything way but their faces. They bickered and argued whenever the situation presented itself. Shelen usually won, his brother was much more docile than he was, more likely to be found with a book than a practice sword, and during the midst of some arguments he would often just stop talking, sit in his chair or stand defensively with his arms crossed and give his brother a schooled face until he too stopped talking and walked away angry.

Shelen continued to on his way and was greeted by two of the guards as he entered the makeshift office on the first floor of the tower; he greeted each warmly before briefing all of the gathered volunteers on the situation at hand.


The wind was warm today, a sure sign that summer was starting to replace spring, under the trees of the forest however the suns warmth did not reach Ashlens skin. He lay under a familiar old tree in the center of a grove deep within the confines of the forest. It was to this place that he retreated when relatives or other busy bodied guests like his great-aunt came to visit. She would be arriving from Haven today and he had no interest in letting her ogle over him as she'd done for years, he didn't want her pity. He'd sleep in the stable if he had to but he refused to be her excuse to prattle on and on. He rolled over on his side yawing sleepily, the soft twitting of birds lolling him into a peaceful state.

He was unaware that he'd fallen asleep until he twitched awake with a sneeze. He sat up and stretched his long arms before brushing the dead leaves that littered the forest floor out of his hair. He started to rise when he realized what it was that had woke him, not the sneeze but the utter silence of the forest. The birds had stopped their chattering in the treetops. Only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind could be heard and the uneasy feeling in his stomach weighed heavy in his gut. Something was very wrong, but what?

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

Ashlen whirled to face the sound of the unfamiliar voice, backing away from it instinctively as he did so. The sound of feet shuffling closer in the deadfall had him twitching in every direction. He was surrounded.

"Looks like a Hethlighter." chimed in another voice on the right which he noted had a very rough accent.

A heavy, gloved hand came to rest on his shoulder and he jumped away from it only to fall into more rough, grabby hands of the same type.

"Jumpy little git isn't he Brent?"

"Aye, that he is."

With his hands now trapped painfully behind him he couldn't get himself away. One of his assailants wrenched his arm at a painful angle and with a sharp cry he sank to his knees to relieve the pressure lest his arm break.

"At a boy, just behave yourself and we might let you go without too much trouble."

There were a few echoed snickers all around him and he didn't like the sound them at all. He wriggled and twisted his arms and shoulders but to no avail, he only got his arm wrenched painfully again.

"What do we do with him boss?"

"Take him back to camp, he won't have to wait to long."

"Right."

Ashlen felt the coarse fibers of a rope wrap around his wrists and ankles. The close proximity of his assailants made him want to retch, they smelled horrible; like they hadn't washed in weeks and had walked though a spoiled marsh.

"Derik, pass me your bandana. I need a blind fold." said the one who'd tied his hands and feet.

"Na, I dont think you'll need one." It was the voice of the boss from in front of him now, Ashlen could smell the barbarians' acidic breath as his hand griped Ashlen's chin. "This one's blind."


Shelen rubbed his temple absently mindedly as he waited with a large ground of guards outside the stables for their mounts. His black dyed riding leathers and light armor were a welcome weight on his shoulders. His bay gelding was led out first. Its matching black tack was well polished as was the copper that adorned its saddle. It threw it long black mane and liked its tail with a flashy grace. A vain creature that found pride in its well groomed self. He mounted up with a grin, adjusting his sword and waited till his small garrison was mounted behind him then with a wave of his hand he lead them out the gate three abreast. He felt and looked every bit the commander of this mission that his father had entrusted to him.

A few of the surf children and the younger fosterling waved at them as they left, shouting greeting and fare-the-wells as if they were soldiers going off to win glory in war. They broke into two groups of nine. The first group was lead by the assistant arms master; a man named Hern, and headed east to look over the plains. Shelen took his group into the woods to the west. He rubbed his temple again, the bright sunlight seemed to be giving him a headache, and he mumbled a curse under his breath as he scanned the woods. He looked down and noticed a fresh, bare footprint in the soft earth between two roots. There was only one person who would have dared trod these woods barefoot, and that was Ashlen. He grumbled to himself before urging his bay forward and he continued to look about for other signs of movement. His men began to branch out in a search pattern, putting enough space between themselves that they could each search their piece without interfering in another mans line of vision. Most of them were obviously nerviouse; even the townsfolk and surfs only went as far as they had to into these woods for wood and no further.

It was whispered that this forest was cursed, much like the famous Forest of Sorrows in the north without the obvious benevolence. There were people who went missing in these woods, though now with the knowledge that there were bandits present it made more sense to blame a man instead of a monster. A shiver went down his spine when unseasonably cold gust of wind whipped over the trail he was following. The further he went into the woods he worse the chill became and the worse his headache got. The light was strained now, fighting though the thick leaves of the canopy in only a few places leaving the wooded area beneath with a shadowed, eerie feel.

His flashy bay suddenly stopped suddenly, flinging his elegant head up, ears twitching and alert, snorting softly in anticipation for something in the shadows of the trees. It pawed the soft ground and tried to turn around on the narrow track. Shelen yanked it head around and spurred it forward but the gelding refused to go. It reared and pawed at the air, whining shrilly before give three hard bucks and taking off down the trail back towards home. Shelen coughed up a few mouthfuls of dirt and leaves as he struggled to get up and dust the wounded pride from his breaches. He cursed the stupid creature and wished that he had taken his mothers sorrel mare instead. Nothing was broken but he would surely have a few bruises later. The throbbing in his head was more insistent now than ever and he couldn't help but put a hand to his forehead. His instincts were screaming a cry of warning at him but so was the pounding in his head, though a different kind of warning, one he didn't understand. He forced himself to draw his sword with his free hand as he backed up against a tree, leaning on it heavily as he held the sword out in a defensive position.

"Come out, I know your there." He called into the shadows

He had hoped that he would be ignored, that there really was nothing there, and that his horse had just spooked because of a squirrel but his was sorely disappointed when three well built men emerged from the shadows. Damn all his luck. He shouted a warning to whomever of his group was nearest but got no reply, he hopped that they hadn't been ambushed that surly there had to be at least one of them left!

"Ho ho, here's a familiar face, you don't suppose their related eh?"

"Ye, could be. Let's take a closer look shall we?"

He forced the hand on his forehead to join the other on the hilt of his sword. He gave the well crafted blade and artful swing and sent one of the bandits to his death quickly. He warned the other two with a glare but he couldn't bluff these opponents the way he did his younger cousins. They had years of experience on him and slaying the first of them was more than likely just the last of his luck turning tail on him. One of the remaining bandits disarmed him while the other sent him flying backward with the blunt of his sword. He choked on the air in his lungs and struggled to get to his feet. A thick fingered hand tangled itself in his short hair and jerked his head up out of the dirt.

"Yea, definitely related."

"Let go of me." he growled as he struggled under the firm hands of his captors as they pulled his arms back behind him and tied them tightly with a short length of rough rope. The bandits only laughed at his weak attempts to free himself. With each passing moment his headache became worse and worse and he was losing strength to it.

:Shelen!:

His head felt like it was going to split as his own name echoed in his head with painful ferocity, he let out a whimper as he was casually thrown over the shoulder of one bandit and then his vision blurred, going in and out of focused like a wounded man who'd lost too much blood. After a few painful moments he slipped out of consciousness and had the gut retching feeling of falling. When he dared to open his eyes again he could see nothing, everything was black and desolately empty but he could hear, oh he could hear. The sound of heart-wrenching sobs and the unmistakable echoes of sexual grunts rang in his ears loudly but even then it was as if they were being heard though a filter. The sounds he heard made him want to cry, he wanted to shout for them to stop but his voice was silent, trapped in his throat by the darkness that surrounded him.

He was jolted back to himself with a gasp for air as he hit the hard packed dirt floor of a well established tent. It had obviously been there for at least a few months, if not half a year. He took it all in quickly; he knew he wouldn't have much time to do so. The feet of his captors moved to block his view and one heavily booted foot swung out and caught him in the chest, sending him rolling several feet across the span of the large tents floor.

"You lot are still at it?" he hear one say as he tried to blink the dirt out of his eyes and reclaimed his lost breath, grunting as he felt his ribs pop, that kick to the chest had cracked at least one.

"Just finished up, feels real good you sure you don't wana have a go?"

"Na, I'll hold it."

"Your loss."

Shelen wriggled back further and managed to get into a sitting position against a stack of ill crafted crates, no doubt filled with stolen goods. He watched forgotten, if only momentarily, as the bandits who'd dragged him here were joined by another pair who were covered with sweat as if they'd been doing something strenuous. His eyes backtracked to the spot from which they'd come and made a strangled gagging sound that brought the attention of the four thieves to him, but he didn't care. There in the corner, tucked away in the shadows, was a crumpled, shaking, and pale form he would recognize anywhere. He was curled tightly in a ball sobbing silently, his blind eyes staring out at nothing. His body was covered in bruises, salt and blood. His gray-green silk tunic was laying in pieces around his scoured shoulders and nearby lay the scraps of his soft leather breeches.

"Ashlen." He choked out, his eyes narrowing with tears

His brother didn't answer; he didn't even twitch in acknowledgment. He only lay there racked with sobs. The bandits had of course taken note of the whole situation and the smatter ones pieced together more than the others. The bellowing laughs of the men faded out as Shelens world narrowed to his brother. He understood now, that long interlude where he felt as though he was watching through a window. He'd connected with his brother, seen what he saw and heard what he heard. It was a sensation he'd never felt before. That pounding in his head must have been Ashlen desperately reaching for help, and he was so closed off that he had thought it was only the strong sunlight giving him headaches. He felt sick with worry and hungry with anger. He wanted revenge for his brother.


Ashlen was trembling with pain and fear and with the force of the tears that he shed silently in his dark world. His mind was blank from shock and numb from the helplessness. He'd fought back desperately when he realized what their intentions were, the gruff sounding men, but two grown, battle trained men against a lanky youth of only seventeen was far from an even match in hand to hand combat. He had reached for help, call desperately for it. He had even call for his brother with whom he had long ago lost the feeling of relation or kinship with, but no one came. He had been utterly alone thought the whole ordeal except for a few fleeting moments when he felt as if someone else was there, watching, crying, and wishing then could do more but those moments had been brief. He was alone again now, utterly and hopelessly alone and hurting. He was so tired... he just wanted to die.

He wasn't the vengeful sort, the thought of revenge never even whispered across his mind but despite that he felt it swelling in the back of his mind. As if though a vale he felt hatred and anger. It was pushing him back toward consciousness though, back toward the working center of his mind, this foreign anger. He felt the oddest tingling sensations in his head, the feeling of water that had been seeping though a crack suddenly pushing harder against its confines and pulsing out at greater and stronger intervals until the crack started to widen under the pressure. It hurt a lot but he held it, knowing somehow that it was dangerous for these foreign feelings to be mixing with this water.

He could feel others now, other slow seeping streams being forced into stronger rivers, followed by more pain as they too broke free. It was too much; everything hurt and his will was decaying beneath the weight of his foul memories and pain. So he let it go, let go of all of the rising waters in one violent throw. He felt some of backlash through his mind, crashing against the remainders of his fear, and then blacked out with its passing.


Shelen was burning with hatred now, so much that he didn't even care if the four bandits were now coming toward him; in fact he wanted them to. He wanted them closer so he could hurt them, so he could cause them pain, so he could KILL THEM.

Ashlen suddenly let out a deafening inhuman screech and fire roared throughout the tent in an instant. All four of the Bandits dropped instantly and from the screams outside the tent it was evident that it was not just them that had suddenly been enveloped in the hot white flames. Shelen was safe only because when the fire rippled towards he felt a blinding white hot pain in his head. Now from his direction swept a waft of gale force winds, thrusting the flames away and towards the men who had just appeared in the door of the burning tent. His watched at the bandits danced within the flames that enveloped them then fell completely away as he lost consciousness, sinking down to the dirt floor and falling into himself.

-End Chapter 1-

(Special Thanks to Fjedka for giving me some much needed editorial feedback and thank you to all you other read and reviewers! You are this stories life blood. If I dont get reviews then I don't write chapters. Whats the point if no one reads them right? Please keep reading and reviewing. You are all much appreciated! -WWC)