~A/N~
Here's my first story on Fanfiction.
I'll be updating this story weekly.
This will be a short tale of horror.
Enjoy!
~End A/N~
Day 1
Bright, golden sunbeams touched the windowpane of a humble residence on the outskirts of Baltimare, passing through and falling upon a well-made bed. This bed was also empty, for Midi had yet again fallen asleep at his writing desk. Morning rays and the familiar trill of various songbirds were not sufficient to rouse him, especially after falling asleep only an hour before. He was lost in dreams; dreams where his beloved collections of fable and fantasy tales were braided with reality. Fortunately, the din of city life was distant, and would never wake him. Unfortunately, his nature-nestled home was not always so private, especially when visitors insisted on arriving at hours so early that he hadn't known they existed.
*knock knock knock knock*
Midi was stirred from his deficient sleep, willing just enough energy and coordination to plod over to his front door and pull it open. An armored stallion stood smiling before him, and extended his greetings.
"Good morning. I presume you're Midnight Oil?"
Midi's response was an affirmative grumble. He was especially displeased by the bright gleam of his royal suit, apparently in valiant contest with the sun. 'Who wants to know?'
"Ah, good. I'm Martingale, an old friend of your father's. Worked alongside him for years. But... I'm afraid I must be the bearer of bad news."
Midi, now more fully awake, noticed his change in tone, and felt a steadily growing concern when he realized he hadn't seen his father or written to him in a long time.
"Is something wrong?" he inquired. Martingale sighed sadly.
"Your father has been missing for several days. There isn't much information at this point, but I can tell you what I know. May I come in?"A dormant paranoia surfaced in Midi's thoughts.
"Uhm... Of course, come in."
"I see you've been studying his work," noted Martingale, eyeing a stack of open textbooks. Among them were titles referring to ancient history, philosophy, astronomy, and more.
"He's a well-read guy."
Midi wasn't sure whether he wanted to make small talk in light of the serious situation, but played along for the moment.
"Certainly. Do you think his work has anything to do with why he's missing?"
Sudden and dark memories of recent circumstances struck Martingale, and the soft daylight of the living room seemed to shrink away.
"..I'm not sure."
"Well, what do you actually know?" Midi pressed.
"A week ago, some of the Royal Guards were called to resolve a regional conflict between two or three small settlements near the Badlands. Nothing we'd normally have to handle if it weren't for reports of railroad tracks being regularly blocked by rocks and boulders. Four of us were checking out the area, and the other two spoke with locals while your father and I investigated the rocks."
"He'd rushed back to me, claiming to have come across a significant find, something about... Gahal, he called them. Some ancient culture from the area, he was saying."
Midi recognized the obscure name, referenced only twice in any early records known to historians, and even contemporary sources had but a scant description to offer. Extremely isolated, simple, and tribal, the Gahal had no agriculture, hardly any tools, and never spoke. Their only lasting impression on the natural world was in the form of cryptic depictions of bizarre rituals and oddly carven stones that lay broken in various places.
"He'd come back to focus on our duties, at first. We'd cleared the boulders, and talked to everyone in the area, including the conductor that crossed the tracks every other day, at least until the tracks were too damaged for use. Nothing was amiss at first glance, but we stuck around to see if we could find out where the rocks were coming from." Martingale's emotions anticipated what followed in his recounting of recent events.
"He kept returning to the discovery he made in the hills, using every watch break he could. Whenever he spoke with the rest of us, he had no interest in the situation. I'd catch him sneaking out after we retired for the evening. The last night before we left he actually spent the night in a cave up there, I saw the light of his campfire in the distance. He never returned after that.."
Midi's thoughts were upon himself in a strange way, as if he could see himself going mad from such a desolate landscape with nothing to do for days. 'Of course I'd be up there, studying lost history! Who cares about some boulders..' Midi thought. Martingale continued.
"I searched the caves that day. I searched for hours, and I didn't find anything. I saw the symbols he seemed obsessed with. But those caves were expansive, you could get lost for hours, and I probably would have. In fact I feel great cowardice for leaving at all. I came straight back to Baltimare after delivering a report on both situations in the area, and came straight to you. The Royal Guard will take days to send someone new to search for him. Luckily the mailmare was out at the right time, so I was able to track you down."
Midi felt a sense of determination after knowing that the search area was narrowly greatly, though any excitement from a historical discovery had been suspended by the dire situation.
"We're going to the Badlands."
In Martingale's mind, he had not entirely revealed the horror of what he had seen, but he knew full well that the explanation given to his best friend's son had left no room for any excuse to stop him from searching. There was a very real danger that he was reluctant to face again, and only for his sake would he descend into that labyrinth of absolute darkness.
He shook away his thoughts, standing up to walk towards the door.
"Pack lightly; time to choose only your favorite book. I'll be back tonight. Better catch up on sleep, you'll need it!" Midi was weighing options on which two books would come in handy the most, when he processed what Martingale said.
"Wait, how long is the trip?"
As he was exiting through the front door, he gave a final reply, punctuated by his door.
"The train will have to stop at Appleloosa since the tracks are still damaged. The rest we'll be walking, so… probably four hours!"
As the thought of walking four hours across a rocky landscape was playing throughout his head, Midi promptly fell back asleep at his writing desk. His dreams were beset with uncertainty and unease.