CHRONICLE

BOOK TWO: CORREN

PART FOUR: REBIRTH

Chapter Twenty-Four:

What The Villagers Found

Present Day

"Please, let's begin," said the priest, preparing his notes. He gestured to the ancient man before him. "Where would you like to begin?"

Corren shifted in his seat. "Hmm, there's a question. Where should I begin. Well, why not when it all started?"

The priest looked up. "That is usually when all stories start, the beginning. Are you referring to Castle Arrenvale?"

Corren nodded. "That was the night I was blessed by the gods, I'm told. My entire family died that night- save aunt Lydia, apparently- but I lived. I spent a long night and day after under those rocks, wondering if I would be trapped there forever. I still hate small spaces to this day."

"I don't blame you," replied the priest, chuckling.

"But then a search party came, and that's where I'd say my life really began..."

"He's so small," someone exclaimed, amidst cries of both joy and anguish.

"Just a boy... You're sure he's the only one?"

"Careful- Gently, now. He's terribly bruised. There. Take him to the healer- he'll know what to do."

Corren was afraid to open his eyes.

Air moved past his legs- he could feel that he was free of the stone- but he was afraid that if he opened his eyes, it would all vanish again like the other fever dreams he'd had. Then he would be back underneath layers of rock and mortar and dust, with no voice to cry out and no strength to move.

But now sunlight played against his closed eyelids. Strong hands held him, not hard rock at all. Mustering his courage, he slowly peeled open his stinging eyes, and his heart seized hard.

He was saved.

A man carried him, a man in white robes with hands many times larger than Corren's. Around him were more people, all in broad sweeping robes, all carrying tools and all covered in dust. All of them were strangers, too, but he didn't care right then.

The nightmare was over- no more screaming, no more awful stillness and crushing weight over him, no more listening as the last sobs and cries died down to terrifying silence. He'd listened to his mother sing lullabies to him from under the rubble, but then she started coughing and wheezing, each breath more labored than the last. She tried to keep talking to him, but he could hear in her voice the pain she was pretending wasn't so bad. He heard the hollowness to it when she began to shiver and weaken. It wasn't long before she, too, fell silent, no matter how loudly he cried for her.

The memory hit him with shocking strength. Pain erupted in Corren's heart for what he'd lost, and he shifted, trying to curl up so no one would see his tears. Princes didn't cry. Princes were strong, his father taught him. And now his father was gone.

"Be still, child," said the man holding him. "You are safe now."

But Corren couldn't help it. "Papa," he whispered. "Mama." The tears didn't come because he clenched his eyes shut so hard, but they burned at him. It hurt not to cry, and feel the awful, awful ache eat away at his insides.

He heard the man's breath catch, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded a little funny. "I'm sorry child. They are gone to more peaceful places."

Corren lifted his face and peered at the man, squinting in the sunlight. To his shock, tears ran down the man's face, making clean tracks in the dust. When the man caught his expression, he smiled.

"Do not be afraid to weep, little one," he said. "Even kings can shed tears for what they have lost."

That made something in Corren's chest loosen a little, and his vision blurred as he stopped fighting the pain. He still felt wretched, even as the hot salt tears spilled from his eyes.

Oh, Mama. Mama I'm sorry. I just wish you were back, I wish they never hurt you.

He fell asleep remembering his mother, haunted by her last moments.

"Only one survivor," the man told the healer. "A boy. The prince."

The healer grunted, lifting an old book from the shelf and putting it on the counter, flipping for what he needed. "How badly hurt?" he asked. The man shook his head.

"As far as we can tell, bruised and frightened, but unharmed."

"In body, at least."

The man bowed his head. "Yes. Notch only knows..."

The healer's hand paused on the page, tapping a recipe he'd often used for the very ill, a soup that would warm the insides and stay down for even the sickest patients. His father taught it to him, and he'd written it down. Some called it magic, since it helped so many recover so quickly, but it was just food, and very filling.

"Bring him in," said the healer. "There will be ghosts following him until his mind heals with the rest of him. The only cure for him is good food and rest, and plenty of fresh air."

The man bowed, then left to retrieve the little prince, who was just waking up again after falling asleep in his arms. He thought the boy to be small for his age, and the way he curled up made him seem even smaller. It pricked his heart to see a child acting like that, shying away from everyone and everything.

"Where is this?" the prince asked, his blue eyes glassy. The man crouched before him.

"This is our home," he said. "We are Villagers, and we make our homes out of the wilderness. You are safe here."

Corren didn't believe him. He didn't think he would be safe ever again. But a curious heaviness had stolen over him, as if he were scraped hollow by his tears and something else had crawled in. Something heavy and sluggish and numbing. He barely registered the man helping him to his feet and walking him into a house. When he was lifted onto the counter, Corren just slumped there.

The healer looked back at the boy with a critical eye.

It was going to be a long road to recovery for the prince, he thought. He'd heard the rumors. Not only was this boy orphaned, but it was very likely he was the last of his kind. How would he take to being alone in the world?

No, thought the healer. The boy was not alone, not so long as he had anything to say about it.

He brought a bowl of soup to the prince.

"Eat," he ordered. "It will do you good."

Later that night, the healer sent Corren to another house to sleep, and went back into his own chambers, deep in thought. He would need to meditate on what had happened over the past days.

Notch had come to them, that was certain now. The visitor that came among them was neither human nor villager, and he'd told them exactly what had happened at Castle Arrenvale, even though there were no survivors nor surviving witnesses of what had happened there. The towns and settlements around the castle had been massacred.

Then when they found the prince, he was alive when he should have died. The rocks had fallen upon everyone and crushed all others, but for some reason, the healer was told some of them had moved off the boy. Nothing could explain that.

The end of the world had come upon them, some said. Others held faith, but still feared the coming days, as if each new morning might be their last. The healer was peaceful, calmly accepting each day as a gift, but even he wondered what had become of the world. Humankind was wiped out- all but one.

Clearly, thought the healer, this boy was meant for greater things. His course was clear.

Looking to the diamond sword hanging on the wall, he pondered his reflection on the glittering blue crystal. Yes, it was time to be the warrior again to raise a new hope for the world.

Huntress here.

I finally decided, after bothering myself quite a bit about this, that I couldn't abandon Chronicle unfinished.

So, here's the deal.

Chapters will be short, but consistent. I WILL finish Chronicle, but I make no promises about fleshing out the trilogy as I first planned back when I was in high school.

That said, there's quite an epic from here. Those of you returning veterans know to brace yourselves, because you were warned at the door that this is a tragedy. Newbies, I hope you catch the hint quickly (I mean, if you read this far already, then I suppose you get the point.)

If you get bored here, you can move ahead to the first story I wrote, Huntress's Tale, which is the original of this series. (It's a rewrite of an older fanfic, and hopefully I'll finish that one too once I complete Chronicle.)

Thank you for reading, and I'm glad to be back. Welcome one and all, to the final chapters of Chronicle and the event horizon of the final of the Ender Wars.