Author's Note: I've been intending to write this for God knows how long, and the other day I got a Composition Book (SO COOL)… and I thought, "Hey, I'll write Ferek's Story." So I began.
Ever wonder what had happened to Ferek? The boy who was always twitching, and it mentioned that he'd been in the Hall of Nightmares before? I certainly did. So I devised this fanfic… voila—Ferek's story.
This is pretty short—it has three chapters total. Enjoy. .
Disclaimer: Not mine. Nope. Except Tari and Ikarik.
Ferek's Story -Word of a Sayre- Chapter One Sweet Dreams
She was cold.
Her skin was clammy and wet, her unkempt hair clinging to her pale face as her breath came in short, shivering gasps. Blankets were piled atop her shivering form and her eyes were shut against the pain of Chill.
And beside the bed in a tiny chair, a boy of about ten watched helplessly. He had messy brown hair and bright blue eyes and wore something that looked like a pillowcase or a ratty sheet. Eyes bright with tears, Ferek stared at his sister, the last pieces of hope in his mind slowly beginning to crack and shatter.
Only a few days before, Tari had been healthy as ever, parading the Underfolk levels with her usual spunk and optimistic attitude. She lived alone with her little brother Ferek in a small room in the Lower Halls, which was perfectly fine for them. Ever since their parents had died, Tari and Ferek were very close, working together to continue their life as they were happy with it. Ferek never questioned his position as an Underfolk, because Tari never complained and always seemed content.
But two days ago, Ferek had returned to their shelter from his working position to find Tari unconscious on the floor, her skin colder than ice.
Now she lay before him on the small bed. Tari hadn't opened her eyes since Ferek had found her, and the self-appointed Caretaker of the Underfolk, Ikarik, had said that Tari was struck with Chill. This disease was rare, and as most diseases classified as such, it was consequently deadly. Chill had originated in Aenir and been carried by Spiritshadows into the Castle. This disease froze a person from the inside out, as though by strange Aeniran magic, and there was only one known cure.
The cure was a simple idea that had just happened to work. It was the blood of a Cavernmouth, for the beast's blood always boils but does not burn a human. If one with Chill drinks the blood, the freezing cold inside them melts, and they become well once more.
However, because the disease was so rare and because Cavernmouth's blood was difficult to obtain, the medicine was produced in extremely short supply… and kept exclusively for the Chosen.
Ikarik had gone to the Caretaker of the Chosen that morning to ask for the antidote, but had been sent away with a scorning and mild beating. According to the Chosen, a mere Underfolk was perfectly expendable and unworthy of the hard-to-obtain cure. Ikarik had returned, bruised, and by the look in his eye Ferek knew exactly what had happened. He had secretly expected it, after all.
"I'm sorry, Ferek," Ikarik had said upon his return, a mournful look on his pallid face. "Your sister will die without a vial of that medicine."
Ferek was beyond tears then, and just nodded in trembling shock. Finally, those shards of hope inside him were reduced to dust.
Tari was going to die.
He knelt by the side of her bed and cried fitfully, "What am I supposed to do, Tari?"
Ferek buried his face in the cold sheets, shaking all over, begging his sister's cold form to suddenly sit up, ruffle his hair playfully, and ask, "Whatcha cryin' for, little brother?"
But all that came was the soft prodding of something at Ferek's cheek.
Looking up from the blankets, Ferek's watery eyes focused on a winged black creature that had perched upon the bed near Tari's arm. It was Rornir, Tari's ever-faithful crow companion. Tari had found him with a broken wing in the Underfolk levels one day, most likely abandoned by some careless Chosen. She'd nursed him back to health, and ever since, the bird hadn't left her side, almost like a Spiritshadow.
"Rornir," Ferek muttered, swatting at the bird, who squawked and jumped back, fluttering his wings in annoyance. "Go away… she won't wake up."
Rornir impatiently flapped his wings again, and Ferek propped himself up on his elbows to look at the bird. His beady eyes peered back at Ferek, and the boy saw in the bird the same pressing sadness that he felt. In despair he stroked Rornir's feathers, crying, "I'm sorry… I can't do anything…"
The crow was still looking at him, and then squawked and pushed his head against Ferek's arm, as if willing him to get up.
And it was then that he was struck with an idea.
Ferek realized that if the Chosen would not give them the antidote, they could still take it…
He could steal it.
Leaping to his feet from his position beside the bed, Ferek felt his excitement grow. He knew where the Caretaker's Hall on the Red Level was—he'd worked there a few times before (well, cleaned it, but that was beside the point). There was rarely anyone there, and it would be easy to slip in, find the vial, and come back before anyone questioned a young Underfolk in the halls…
Hands trembling in anticipation and nervousness, Ferek gave Rornir a pat on the head and darted out the door.
As he left, Ikarik came into the room and witnessed the boy's departure. It didn't take the old man long to figure out where Ferek was going, and he sighed sadly, knowing that it was almost futile.
Tari would be dead within an hour, and if Ferek did not make great haste, he would be too late.
The halls and chambers of the Underfolk levels were rather empty late in the day. Most workers were heading home, or else working on the higher Towers of the Castle. Ferek inconspicuously made his way to the Red Stairs, which led into the lower chambers of the Red Level.
The stairs were bright and very majestic compared to the Underfolk levels, and still Ferek was intimidated. He'd never been beyond the Underfolk levels without Tari, and he worried that anyone who saw him would be suspicious, and…
Briskly shaking his head, Ferek shrugged off the thoughts and charged up the stairs. He need not bear qualms—the Caretaker's Hall was very close to the stairs, for Red was not an extremely large level.
Ferek slowed and turned the corner into a wide corridor, lavishly decorated with an assortment of red things. For the second-lowest level of the Castle, it was still impressive, and Ferek snorted to imagine what Violet was like.
He wanted desperately to run as fast as he could to the Caretaker's Hall, for all his thoughts were of his sister and how little time she may have. But Ferek couldn't look suspicious, and he restrained to a quick-paced walk.
The corridor opened up to a wide chamber with several doors on its four walls. These led out to most of the Chosen of the Red Level's homes, but the one directly across from Ferek was the entrance to the Caretaker's Hall, labeled with a makeshift wooden plank with "Medicine" painted across it in red letters.
Ferek crossed the chamber quickly, footsteps echoing. A Chosen passed through another door, but did not spare a glance. The red-robed man held his nose in the air and 'harrumphed' as he strode past. Not that Ferek minded; he was glad he went unobserved.
The hallway he entered was narrower and less decorative, and Ferek found himself more prone to getting lost in this bland scenery than before…
But before despair took hold of him, Ferek burst into a small room lit by a little Sunstone on the ceiling. The room's walls, however, couldn't be seen—they were hidden completely by shelves chock-full of vials, bottles, and jars, all filled with liquid or pills.
By some strange, smiling luck, Ferek had ended up exactly where he needed to be—in a medicine storage room.
In a flash he was at the base of the nearest shelf, searching frantically for something that he expected to be red in color, or else labeled as a cure for Chill…
There were bottles and pills in all different shapes, colors, and sizes, but as Ferek searched they all looked the same. He was only focused on finding the cure, but it was nowhere in sight.
Ferek moved to the second shelf and began pushing the bottles aside and searching. Still nothing. Heart pounding in his chest, Ferek turned to the last shelf.
And there he found great relief, for sitting there was a small vial of red, bubbling liquid labeled "Chill". At the sight of it, Ferek felt tears prick his eyes—it was alright; he'd found the Cavernmouth's blood and Tari would be okay…
With trembling hands he grabbed the vial, holding it close for a moment, as though it were his sister herself. It was warm and comforting, and with a trembling sigh of relief, Ferek turned to leave.
He hadn't noticed the Chosen's shadow darken the doorway as he'd searched the shelves. He hadn't heard the man's low growl as his eyes narrowed and his lips curled back in a snarl.
And now, too late, Ferek saw him—the Caretaker of the Chosen, draped in red robes, an angry scowl across his thin face. "What are you doing here, boy?"
All the relief and hope Ferek had found was drained away and replaced by terrible fear. "I-I… please, sir—it's for my sister… she's…"
"Underfolk have no need for Chosen medicines. If your sister is dying then let her—you can take over her work. Underfolk aren't allowed here when not assigned work, and that in itself is worthy of severe punishment."
Ferek was on his knees, submissive and begging. "She needs it… for Chill…"
As he spoke the Caretaker pulled out a Sunstone, holding it out in front of him. Ferek gasped and rolled to the side, narrowly missing a Red Ray of Destruction.
A barrage of bottles and medicines fell from the shelves and pelted Ferek's back as he struggled to get up in the clearing smoke. Staggering slightly, he ran past the Caretaker and into the hall, with the vial clutched tightly in his small hand.
He didn't get far. The Caretaker stepped out of the storage room, grinning in satisfaction, and shot another Red Ray down the hall. Ferek ran blindly and looked back just for a moment to greet the Ray, which hit him in the shoulder and sent him sprawling to the floor.
The boy screamed at the blossoming pain as his skin was seared and his clothing burned, curling up on the floor to fight it. Ferek tried to scramble to his feet, but the Caretaker was upon him and struck him viciously across the head.
Crying out weakly again, Ferek felt dizzy after the blow grazed his temple. The world began to spin and fade around him.
"Defiance of the Chosen Authority, as well as larceny," the Caretaker was saying, though Ferek was too dazed to hear. "Fashnek will like this…"
Ferek lost consciousness then, one last thought crossing his mind…
I'm sorry, Tari…
A sensation of cold all over his body brought Ferek back to his senses. At first he thought his eyes weren't working correctly, but he slowly realized that they had indeed focused, and he was simply surrounded by darkness.
He got to his hands and knees, nauseated by the violent, stinging pain of the burn spreading across his back and shoulder. Grimacing, he glanced around, but saw nothing.
Suddenly, a light flashed all around him, and Ferek shielded his eyes with his arm. When his eyes adjusted, he looked around cautiously.
He was sitting inside what seemed to be a glass sphere lined with tiny Sunstones, which had lit up and caused the brilliant flash. Strange machinery was rooted to the bottom of the sphere.
Ferek's realization of where he was came quickly and filled him with terror. He'd only heard stories of the place and seen pictures in history books that told of criminals… he'd never expected to end up there himself…
It was the Hall of Nightmares.
"So, you're awake now."
At the voice, Ferek gasped and jumped backwards, pressing his neck and shoulder against the cold glass and ignoring the pain of his burn. From the darkness outside the sphere stepped a creature so repulsive and terrifying that Ferek had to fight to keep from being sick.
It was a man for the most part, though his skin was pale and tinted a splotchy green and his eyes were beady, sinking into his skull like olives. His teeth were small and rotten, and the canines shone in the dim light, sharper than natural.
It was the other half that made Ferek sick, for that half was basically missing. Where the man's arm should have been, a pincer-shaped arm of Shadow protruded. His shoulder and a great portion of his midsection including part of his leg were also completely formed of what Ferek realized to be the man's Spiritshadow.
It was Fashnek, the Master of Nightmares.
He hobbled closer until his face was nearly pressed against the glass, squinting down at the trembling boy like a predator inspecting his prey. Ferek could see torn flesh and strange movements of blood and internal organs where his skin met shadow, and he tried not to look, cowering back.
Fashnek's mouth pulled back into a sick grin, and suddenly a sort of hissing sound filed the inside of the globe. Ferek became aware that air was leaking in through tiny holes at his feet, and it smelled sweet and almost relaxing. Still, Ferek knew of its evil intentions and tried not to breathe.
Regardless, he soon began to feel dizzy and tired, collapsing to his hands and knees again. Above him, Fashnek gave a low, dry laugh.
"It's futile, boy. Sweet dreams."
Darkness slowly began to cloud Ferek's mind once more, and with a cry he fell forward in a slump against the cold bottom of the sphere.
But before he went completely unconscious, he heard Fashnek's last, cold words.
"Your sister is dead."
Author's Note: Eek, my introductory chapters aren't always too great. ; It gets better, though. D I love Ferek. Review, please!