Greetings to my readers,
I am immensely honoured and flattered to receive your reviews, and I hope I'll be able to finish this story by the end of the year. However, I will not be updating this until the last week of November, since I'm currently at my hometown and thus too busy to write anything. So please bear with me, and I'll make sure the wait will be worth it!
Now on to chapter three! (Standard disclaimer apply, unless if Mr.Eddings would give me the copyrights, of course! )
The men in chain-mail shirts and swords and whips were surrounding him, laughing cruelly and toying with him as if he was no more than a harmless mouse. Their scarred faces were twisted and evil, and from all around them there came more laughter and groans. He bravely stood his ground with his dagger in his hands, just as he had seen his father done, but they kept taunting him and closing on him, nearly suffocating him with fear and anger.
Then they were suddenly gone, and he was in the pastures, galloping around on Shan as his parents applauded and his friends cheered. He smiled and waved, and turned his mount to go to them; but now he was running on foot, and his friends were drawing bloody swords on his parents and strong hands were gripping his shoulders. As he struggled to free himself, his friends turned into Murgos and laughingly slashed at his father, and heartlessly tore his mother's clothes off and raped her. And he could only watched helplessly in horror, shock and rage stole his voice and strength.
And then he was lying in a river of dark red liquid which was making him sick, and a large black horse was dragging him by a rope tied to his feet and more laughter sounded everywhere and he could see his parents' bodies thrown at the side... and he screamed their names, again and again.
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Queen Silar gently wiped the sweat away from the small pale face under her hands with a wet cloth as he gradually stopped groaning and writhing in fever and nightmares. The older woman sitting beside her shook her head in grief, tears still coursing down her cheeks. "My poor Hettar," she whispered. "My poor little Hettar."
The queen soaked the cloth in the bowl of water yet again, wrung it, and placed it on the boy's forehead before turning her attention towards the woman. "Do not weep, Aria. He is strong, and the physicians have said that he will live," she said quietly.
"I know, my Queen, but to see him like this, and now an orphan..." Aria gently touched the broken arm, now splintered. "My dear sister and her husband are dead, and now he is alone." Her eyes suddenly glinted fiercely. "Those Murgos will pay for what they did to Sallia and Hadran," she vowed fervently. "Hettar will not likely to forget what befalls his parents. He will make sure that they pay for this, and my clan and his will stand behind him."
"I know, Aria. I know," Silar lay a comforting hand on Aria's arm. The woman had not left Hettar's bedside since Cho-Hag brought the wounded boy into the encampment two days ago and she had recognised him. Yesterday, ten of the king's men had returned from the eastern escarpment with litters bearing the bodies of Hadran and Sallia, and a messenger was dispatched to Hettar's clan to inform them of the sad news. The whole clan of Hettar's mother was currently in mourning as they waited for the boy to regain consciousness.
"And I'm sure Cho-Hag is going to take steps to ensure that this does not happen again," the queen added with an uncommon note of steel in her tone.
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There was light beyond – he could sense it even with his eyes closed. He was lying on something soft and warm, and he sighed in content as he moved his arms to stretch out – but the pain from his right arm stopped him. He gasped in surprise, and suddenly there was a touch, and a quiet, soft voice talking to him. "Hush now, little one. You're not supposed to move yet."
Mother? he thought as he opened his eyes and winced at the sunlight shining directly on his face. He blinked in an effort to see more clearly. "M-mother?" he whispered hoarsely, wondering why his whole body was aching.
There was sadness in the answering voice. "No, Hettar, although I wish she is here." Now he could see the speaker, a woman slightly older than his mother, sitting beside him with a hand on his brows. He frowned, trying to remember where he had seen her before, but the woman added, "Here, drink this." A cup was placed under his lips and an arm guided him into a half-sitting position. He ignored the searing pain in his arm and concentrated on swallowing the bitter liquid from the cup.
The movement exhausted him greatly and he dropped back into the pillows. "Where's mother?" he whispered again. His eyes were already growing heavy with sleep as the hand gently stroked his hair.
"Shh, go back to sleep, my brave child," the woman said, and he plunged back into deep oblivion.
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The next time he awoke, the sun was beginning to set behind the western mountains, and he blinked open his eyes, realising he was not as weary as he was before. There was light enough to see that he was lying on a bed inside an unfamiliar tent underneath a narrow square hole obviously meant to be a window. His right arm was bandaged – in fact, there were bandages on many parts of his body. He pushed himself upright and looked around wildly in panic, wondering where he was and why he was injured so badly and where were his parents?
"Hettar!" the voice sounded alarmed, and the same woman from before, accompanied by a younger, dark-haired, regal woman hastily came to his side. "Shh, it's all right, child, you're safe here," she crooned soothingly as she sat down on the bed and enveloped him in a motherly hug. He did not even realise he was trembling in fear until he saw them.
When she released him, he looked curiously at her, and recognition dawned in his mind. "You're Aunt Aria! My mother's sister!"
She smiled at his words. "Yes, Hettar, I am," she admitted with a note of relief in her voice. "I'm very glad you still remember me, considering we haven't seen each other for over a year." She smoothed down his unruly hair. "How are you feeling now, child? Do you still hurt?"
He started to shake his head, grimaced, then nodded. "My arm hurts a lot, and my legs too. How long have I been asleep?"
"Four days, since my husband brought you here," the dark-haired woman, who was sitting on a chair beside his aunt, answered quietly.
He frowned in disbelief and glanced around the tent in bewilderment. "But why?" he demanded. "What happened to me? And where's my mother and father?" he asked plaintively.
Aria's smile slipped off her face, and she exchanged a look with the other woman. She sighed heavily then, and gazed back sadly into his eyes. "Oh, my Hettar... how am I going to say this?"
There was such a wealth of grief in her voice that his fear returned in full force. "You mean... are they—" he could not finish, as if the fear forced recent memories to surface from the recess of his young mind. His eyes widened as he saw once again the Murgo raiding-party pursuing his family and everything that happened afterwards, and his body began to shake with loss and helplessness and grief as he finally confronted the irrevocable fact that his beloved parents would no longer be with him.
"They're gone... those men killed him..." he whispered numbly, his eyes staring sightlessly towards the stunned women. Aria bit her lips at the simple statement, and sorrowfully reached out to gather the shaking shoulders into her arms. The firm, comforting hug – he would never feel his mother's touch again – was all it took for the child to unleashed his full emotions, and his tears lasted long through the glum evening.
Later, as he haltingly described all that had happened with as much detail as he could provide, he felt a new, overpowering emotion began to emerge inside him – the same emotion that had sustained him at the grasslands. It was hatred for the Murgos who had taken away his parents, and a gnawing need for revenge. That was the turning point which marked the end of his childhood, and beginning of his personal war with the accursed children of Torak One-Eye.
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"He witnessed everything, my husband," Queen Silar reported quietly some time after Hettar had fallen asleep in the company of his aunt. The royal couple was alone in their pavilion, sitting pensively on their bed as she recounted what she had learned to her husband. "I believe he will never be the same boy he used to."
King Cho-Hag nodded, obviously moved by his queen's story. "Things like that tend to change people – and he's still very young. He will not forget this easily."
Silar was silent for a few moments, seemingly pondering over a grave issue. At last she said, "My lord, will you permit me a request?"
Cho-Hag blinked. His wife seldom spoke to him so formally, which meant whatever it was would have to be very important. "You shouldn't have even asked, love," he answered, taking her hands in his.
She smiled briefly. "We've been married for quite some time, haven't we?" she began. He nodded, wondering where she was leading with this.
"And until now, I have been unable to bear you an heir to the throne—"
He cut her off with a vehement shake of his head. "You know it never matters to me. That's certainly not the reason I married you in the first place."
"But it matters to the rest of Algaria," she pointed out quietly. "And you know how the squabble over the throne can last for years. Not only that, people are bound to talk about this before long."
The king's eyes narrowed. "Has someone been saying something about this to you?"
She shook her head calmly. "It's not important. It's just that... I've been giving it some thought recently, and with all that has been happening lately—" she looked down and took a deep breath before continuing, "I have said that Hettar is bereft of his parents."
"Yes," he replied carefully, beginning to see her line of thought.
"He has relatives, for certain, and I believe both clans won't hesitate to claim him as son, as is fitting," she added, contending to gaze into the hearth of fire not far from them. "However, he may not wish to stay with either clan, as he will be reminded even more of his recent losses; or both clans may lay claim to him and refuse to back down from their demands. Either way, it won't be conductive for the child."
He smiled gently then, tugging her chin back to gaze into her beautiful, anxious eyes. "So what you're saying is, we should adopt him instead?"
The dark-haired queen nodded mutely, her eyes giving away her answer. His smile grew wider as he kissed her forehead tenderly. "I could never refuse you anything love, not only because it's very seldom you ask for anything, but also because I see nothing wrong with this. However," he added gravely before she could react, "it's not entirely in our hands to decide. I must first seek permission from both families, as well as from the child himself, before we could do so."
She nodded, content with his agreement. "I understand. And I do hope it will succeed," she said, laying her head on his shoulder with a soft smile gracing her features.
"I hope so too... for our sake as well as for his," he replied quietly as he ran his hand through her hair.
Well, that does seem to be a bit rushed, doesn't it? Next up, Hettar is adopted.
Nightless Vision: Thank you for thinking so. Enjoy this one then.
Silverdancer, silver20, kiwifire451, cyradis, Cydarill, Rhun: Thank you, thank you, thank you!!