((All right, well, this one is a little hard to explain. At any rate, I and a friend of mine have created an entire plotline for the next generation of Elenium/Tamuli characters. This is the rather early roots of one of our bad guys, Keiman. For those of you who remember way back when Annias tried to legitimize Lycheas by claiming Arissa was married to the last Duke of Osten and someone mentioned the current duke was a bit of a gambling drunkard? BING! Yesh, he is our Duke here. And there's a long story to Martel's return, maybe I'll get around to writing it someday.))

He had to hide.

"Sarlis, please, stop!" She was screaming again. Oh, please, don't let her cry, he thought. Stop her from screaming- I hate it when she screams! Three-year-old eyes shut tightly against tears. Please don't cry, he pleaded. I hate it when she cries.

"Shut your mouth, woman!" The yells carried down to the young boy's room through the hall, assaulting the poor toddler's ears. The boy felt the sobs of fear beginning, and he sank further down in his corner, clapping his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown out that horrible noise. "I'll kill you!"

"Sarlis, the boy!" There was a loud slap, and the boy drew a sharp breath. Her crying intensified, and he could hear the whimper of fear in her voice. "Please, Sarlis… please, I beg of you!"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" There was another slap. "Who the hell do you think I am!" His words were slurred, and the little boy knew his father was drunk again. The Duke of Osten was always drunk: his son could not honestly know of any time he had not seen the duke inebriated. Drunk, or gambling.

"No, I didn't, I swear-"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" A thud came from down the hall, and finally the small child could take it no longer.

He fled out of his room, shooting down the hall on short, stubby legs. Wailing and sobbing with fear, he launched himself into his mother's arms, crying out the phrase over and over again. "Mommy, don't let him hurt you anymore, Mommy please, please, don't let him do it, it hurts to hear you cry, please don't cry Mommy…"

Despite her considerable bruises and a nasty black eye, the Duchess of Osten held her son close, kissing the top of his head. "Shh," she whispered, rocking him gently. "Shh, it's all right... Sarlis!"

The little boy screamed as he felt rough hands pull him roughly from his mother's arms, and the child kicked and shrieked, reaching for the only safety he knew. "No! Mommy! Mommy, please!"

"Sarlis!" The duchess stumbled to her feet, reaching out for her son. Her eyes were bloodshot and full of tears, and by now her black eye had swollen shut. "Sarlis, don't take my son away from me, please!"

"Quiet, whore!" The duke tossed his son away roughly, sending the helpless boy to roll into the wall, landing in a frightened, sobbing little heap. "Quit your crying!" A sharp pain exploded in the boy's side, but the child did not cry out, only continued to sniffle and gasp as he tried to control the flow of tears. "Men don't cry, you baby! Stand up and look your old man in the eye!"

"Sarlis, he's three years old!"

The little one looked up fearfully at his father, only to be met with a blow to his head that made him crash to his side. Stars danced in the child's eyes, and he whimpered as he curled up into a ball. Don't let him hit me again, he prayed. Please, let him stop it. Let him stop hurting Mommy and I.

The Duke picked him up roughly, strong hands encircling his son's throat. The boy's eyes widened in shock and fear, and futilely he struggled against the grip. "I'll kill you, you little brat," his father promised, squeezing tightly. "You son of a whoring bitch, Ill kill you!"

The stars returned to the boy's eyes, and his entire world went red, then dark. The world then started to die, and his kicking and fighting lessened. I'm sorry, Mommy, he thought. I'm sorry he hurts you because he hates me.

Suddenly the vice around the boy's neck disappeared, and the child fell to the floor with a crash. He opened his eyes hazily to see his mother clinging on the back of the drunken duke, her face tear-streaked and anguished. The little one felt a sense of cold in his chest: he knew his mother had attacked his father to keep him from killing the boy.
What happened next seemed to take a second and eternity at the same time. In an instant, he saw the end of the wine bottle shatter, then saw the jagged edges swing back and connect with his mother's face. The duchess of Sarlis let out a cry and toppled from the duke's back, sliding onto the floor with heavy gasps. The duke was upon her in a moment, yelling and stabbing repeatedly with the glass.

Blood… The blood was everywhere. The bottle came down and down, spraying drops of his mother's life everywhere. The boy's face lost all color, and all he could do was stare at the scene before him. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the duke staggered to his feet and tossed the bottle away. Stumbling, the duke made his way to the doorway, passing his son without a word.

As soon as he discerned the environment to be clear, the boy crawled over to his mother's body, eyes round as saucers. She was covered in blood- oh, God, it was everywhere. He reached a trembling finger out to touch her hair, her beautiful blonde hair that he had missed out on. "Mama?" Oh, please, he thought, don't take her from me. Don't take away the only person that loves me. Don't leave me alone with him. Hot tears formed in his eyes. Please, oh please, oh please, oh please… "Mama, take me with you," he whispered brokenly.

Her brown eyes, his own brown eyes, stared blankly at the ceiling, fixed on her place in the stars. The boy tried shaking her, hoping that she'd answer him again. "Mama, please, I love you, I'm sorry.. I'm sorry he hurts you, Mama…" The child's words dissolved into an unintelligible babble, pouring out of his mouth as the pool of blood on the floor widened. The small one held her head in his arms, rocking back and forth. "Don't leave me with him, Mama!" The boy shook, his voice dropping to a barely audible volume. "He'll kill me."

"Then how would you like to come with me?" A heavy footfall resounded through the room, and the boy jumped, whirling around fearfully. A man stood there, tall and grim-looking, with pure white hair and a hard smile. He extended a hand towards the small boy. "Come now, boy- I'll take you away from here. I'll be your father."

The child stared at him, the words shaking as they left his mouth. "I... I can't leave Mama… Mama… Mama loves me…"

"Mama's dead, son," the white-haired man said. "Come now… you must have a name…"

The boy shook his head in terror. "Mama used… Mama used to call me "love"… and… and he doesn't care…"

The white-haired stranger studied the boy a moment, weighing this all in his mind. Then he spoke, his words persuasive and coaxing. "How about… How about Keiman?"
The little boy stared at him, unsure of what to do or say.

"Look, kid, do you want to stay here? Do you want to stay with your father?"

The young one shook his head fervently. Martel smiled faintly, reaching his hand out farther. "Then take my hand."

The boy took one last look at his beloved mother, shuddered, and lay one final kiss on her cheek, murmuring the words "I love you." Then, with a deep breath, the boy walked over and put his tiny hand in that of the white-haired stranger.