The hunt of the king, p.26
The Hunt of the King, page 26
part #1 of Symphony of Madness Saga Series
But, as the years glided by, Sinod started getting used to this new type of life and, with time, he even learned to revel in the solitude he was forced to embrace. He still wanted to talk to people, of course, to establish relationships, and to take joy in the social activities of the town. But he soon started thinking that perhaps people like him were always meant to be alone.
The Hunt of the King had represented a sudden and dramatic change to his lifestyle and, although it had brought more tragedies than anything else, Sinod had enjoyed the fact that the knights he met and talked to were not aware of his past—with the exception of Sir Gerhard, who had been kind and wise enough to dismiss the incident as something that would not define his life.
But, in spite of everything, he was convinced the knights still looked at him as a simple squire: The servant of Sir Larson, and an inferior to all of them. Sinod did not give much relevance to it, but he constantly wondered whether someone would someday look at him as the Littians used to do before the incident—as a boy full of dreams and hopes, whose greatest desire was to become a knight.
And then there was Samuel Jurgersen, the kid he had just found stranded in the middle of the forest. The boy knew nothing of his past, nothing of the man he used to be, and nothing of the things he had done. He solely knew what his eyes showed him. The kid was like an empty piece of parchment, waiting for Sinod to draw over it the image he had always wanted to portray of himself. In a strange way, Samuel was his chance to start a grand new life… a life strayed from a past he no longer wanted to remember, and a future that glistened clearer with every passing day. Let go of the past and the future, his father had told him. Focus on the present. And, for the first time since he had heard those wise and valuable words, he felt the task was far from being impossible.
They walked for less than an hour that night. Sinod decided to stop and rest after seeing the boy starting to gasp uncontrollably. In a rush, he built a bonfire with the kindling he had collected and cooked up the last pieces of rabbit he had. Samuel saw the meat as someone who had spent his whole life eating plants, and when the food was finally ready, he devoured it with great enthusiasm. The boy also received gladly some green berries Sinod had found earlier that morning. It was surprising to see a boy whose suit of armor was probably worth more than his entire house eating as a starving kid, not even caring to peel the sour skins of the berries as he swallowed them whole. But while his appetite was cute and peculiar, it was not what wound up causing the greatest impression on Sinod about Samuel. Every now and then, whenever he took pauses from eating, those green eyes of his would set upon him, and within them glittered this balmy feeling, this hint of admiration and gratitude he could not have expected to ever loom again directed toward him. Sinod could not help smiling at this small gesture, for it was something he had not discerned in human eyes for many years.
“I haven’t eaten something like this in days,” he said as he put more berries in his mouth, his expression full of satisfaction. “I just found some gray fruits in a bush… and they tasted horribly.”
“How long have you been in the forest?” asked Sinod.
“Five days,” answered Samuel casually. “The guards brought me with the eyes covered, and they left me unconscious in the middle of a glade.”
“That seems rather harsh,” said Sinod, hardly believing the words.
“It’s tradition,” replied Samuel, once again using a casual tone that left Sinod both bewildered and disturbed. “Every son of a nobleman and every boy who wishes to become a knight must go through this test.”
“And you want to be a knight?” asked Sinod.
“Of course I do,” he said almost mechanically. “My father is a knight and my brother is a knight… Everything I want is to be as great as them.”
Sinod beamed. The small kid reminded him so much of himself when he was his age—a boy full of dreams and wishes whose only desire was to be as great as those he admired. They continued talking until, all of a sudden, Samuel started coughing and gasping, almost as if he had been running for a long time.
“Are you all right?” asked Sinod, his voice tinged with concern.
“Yes,” the boy said among coughs. “I’ll be fine… I’ve always been like this… It happens every now and then… but it passes… eventually.”
Sinod stood by his side as Samuel kept coughing and struggling to breathe. And only once his problems vanished, almost five minutes after they had started, did they resume their conversation.
“I find it surprising that you still do these tests,” said Sinod, “especially after everything that happened in the forest during the hunt.”
“Well,” the boy voiced hesitantly, “the test hadn’t been done in a while. But my father told me that I was of a special lineage… that I belonged to a family that goes back to the days of the first men of the continent, of the Conquerors of Midten themselves. He told me that if there was anybody who could prove the people that the forest was still safe for carrying out this test, it would be me.”
Cruel, thought Sinod, a grand woe and disappointment invading him. But as well clever. If Samuel managed to escape the forest, he would become a hero—the first person to conquer the Forest of the Spirits after the arrival of the black beast. That would surely give him the courage and will necessary for pursuing the life of a knight. But if Samuel did not make it out alive, his father would only lose a sickly kid who was not even the first in his line of succession. It was cruel, but Sir Larson had shown him long ago the harsh reality of the laws of life and nature.
And, the more time he spent with Samuel, the more Sinod thought that Lord Ludvig Jurgersen probably believed the second outcome would happen. Samuel was slow, clumsy, and slothful, getting tired after less than an hour of walking, and not embarrassed to demonstrate his taste for naps. Quite soon, their march turned into a crawl, one wherein Sinod felt they were advancing less than a mile a day, but also one he needed to embrace if he was to keep Samuel’s ailments at bay. After all, Lord Ludvig might have sent his fragile son to perish in the forest, but now that Sinod had crossed his path, he would do everything within his power to make sure the boy arrived home safely. It was a toilsome, even vexatious new quest upon his shoulders. However, it was also the right thing to do.
But, just like he had his flaws, the boy also had some interesting aptitudes. Samuel was sharp and receptive, and perhaps one of the best learners Sinod had ever seen. The kid learned how to select firewood, build bonfires, climb trees, and collect fruits—everything just by watching him. Sinod also noticed that the glitter of admiration in his eyes had started growing. And it increased even further the day wherein Sinod, vexed by the slowness of their march, opted to carry Samuel and start running with the boy on top of his back.
“Are you sure you’re not a knight?” Samuel asked him one evening.
“Fairly sure,” he answered, remembering some of the words Sir Larson had told him the last time he saw him.
“Well… you look like one.”
“Thanks… but I don’t think so.”
“You look better than one, actually. More than half the knights I know spend their days just carrying spears on top of the walls of Myrr,” said Samuel.
“That doesn’t mean they don’t know how to do other things,” replied Sinod, “like hunting or fighting.”
“What good does knowledge do if you don’t apply it?”
Sinod could not find an answer to that.
“They are just War Knights,” Samuel continued, “and the war ended a long time ago. They have no point in comparison to the Academy Knights.”
“Academy?” Sinod had never heard of such a word.
“It’s a training place for knights… It’s located in Vittarn… My father and my brother both went to that place, and now… now I’ll be able to go too.”
Neither Sir Larson nor any knight he had hitherto met had ever mentioned a place for knights to train. The whole idea seemed rather far-fetched. How could knights accomplish the feats and exploits that would earn them their titles if they were confined in a training center? It was a riveting inquiry, yet also one that did not remain within his head for long, swiftly withering away before the problems brought by his continuous stay in the Forest of the Spirits.
The days kept passing by and, though they had increased the speed of their march, there were still no signs of Myrr. Sinod could not deny, however, that his stay in the Forest of the Spirits had turned more enjoyable. During the months he had spent walking alone through the forest, he had only spoken to himself—and the occasional mystical voice—but now he had Samuel, who turned out to be an affable company and a fantastic storyteller.
The boy had talked to him about Myrr and his family with great enthusiasm, and he had also mentioned the tournaments that were held in Vittarn during the summer. He would always avoid mentioning anything related to the forest or the hunt, though. And, as he discovered soon enough, not everything was joy in the mind of the child. Sometimes, Sinod noticed he would wake up in the middle of the night, his face full of sweat and his body shaking, probably after undergoing some terrifying nightmare. And multiple other times, Sinod could almost see the effects of paranoia taking over Samuel, as he started looking at every side with a tinge of fear in his expression, perhaps searching for some invisible eyes staring at him from the dark corners of the forest.
The spirits of the forest have started playing with his mind, Sinod thought as he started wondering whether Samuel knew about the wandering spirits or he just thought of them as part of childhood fairytales. Should he tell him about them? He contemplated the idea for a long time until he reached the conclusion that it would be better that he kept the secret for himself. We’re still far away from Myrr, he thought, and the worst thing that can happen is that he falls into desperation.
There were some moments, though, when the boy would regain his regular good spirits. One day, as they were walking over the riverbank, he told him that he needed to improve his looks before they arrived in Myrr. Sinod glimpsed his reflection in the water and noticed that his black hair had reached his waist and his beard and moustache had turned bushy and coarse, his face shyly cleaving its path through a bush of onyx leaves. No wonder he confused me with a wild man of the forest, Sinod thought with a teasing smile.
Using one of Samuel’s knives, he shaved his facial hair as best as he could, and then he sheared his hair until the shoulder line. Sinod also noticed that his clothes, including the fur Sir Gerhard had given him, were scorched and shabby. But Samuel told him he could get him a better outfit before going into the city.
One week had passed since his encounter with the boy, and there were still no signs of the ending of the forest. Sinod’s impatience had grown to unbearable levels and he had started thinking that perhaps, during his absence, the trees had somehow taken over Midten. But it was then when, in a blink and without prior notice, the trees turned higher, their branches lower, and the darkness deeper. “I think we took the wrong road,” muttered Samuel when he saw the day abruptly turning into night due to the thickness of the trees. But Sinod did not answer his words. All he did was smile and put Samuel back on the ground.
“We’ll march slowly and cautiously through this area,” Sinod said almost as a whisper, as if trying to hide his words from unwelcome ears. “The Forest of the Spirits is deceitful… and it’ll surely won’t let us escape from it with ease.”
But the forest did not set him any traps. Neither it threw spells over him nor did it drag him into atrocious nightmares. The forest remained calm as they went across it, and Sinod felt exactly the same as he had felt since his encounter with the red sword in the underground chamber. A warm sensation apace started suffusing his body, a feeling of triumph and freedom, streams of solace and rapture now nourishing his soul. Into a world of dreams fulfilled this sensation elevated him, a land estranged from cruelty and madness, a region flooded with purpose and meaning. So beautiful this world looked, so miraculous, so sumptuous… So beautiful this world was… And yet… And yet that ravishing and winsome beauty did not last… Such beauty shattered as glass when he realized into this world he had ventured alone… when he realized that with him had not come Samuel.
The boy’s face had become now a haven for sweat, drops falling as rain upon an undergrowth that seemed to covet to crawl up his body and bind him as a pig above a raging fire. And his body shivered so much that the very leaves, the very branches, the very trunks of the trees were shuddering, consumed by agony, but seeking as well to inspire dread upon those who saw them. And from his mouth solely gasps now flowed, desperate gasps in which no air existed, violent gasps in which, under the darkness, just a pale white mist flew, just a cold white mist…
“Samuel?” asked Sinod, his voice edgy. “Samuel… are you —?”
“It’s the wild men, aren’t they? They’re watching us from the trees.”
Samuel’s eyes had drifted out of focus, the green almost indiscernible as the pupils searched far and high for things only they could see, his tone now a feeble whisper, absent of hope and joy and will and purpose… absent even of life…
“They’re not wild men,” said Sinod. “Listen to me, I —”
They are spirits.
The words flowed from his mouth, the voice mournful and anguished, three words, however, that from his mind had not flourished.
“Spirits?” asked the boy, consumed by panic.
They walk through the forest as wandering spirits, guised as white mist, looking, always looking for souls to drag into their world of madness.
Now, the words seemed to come out from the forest itself.
Terrified, Sinod rushed toward Samuel, seeing on his way how the boy fell to his knees and started shaking without the tiniest restraint.
“Samuel… Samuel… Look at me!” Sinod shook him while holding his hand. “Look at me! You must not yield to fear… They feed with fear and desperation… with our most terrible memories and our deepest dreads.”
The boy looked at him, his eyes consumed by terror.
“They couldn’t break me, Samuel,” Sinod voiced. “And they couldn’t break your brother… and they couldn’t break your father either… and they will not break you… They’re pathetic and miserable.” Sinod could sense the atmosphere heating up, as if the spirits were responding to those insults. “They’re weak and dastardly. They used that foul black beast to annihilate the knights because they couldn’t do it themselves.” Sinod spoke as if suddenly understanding everything that had happened in the forest. “But the beast is not here… nor it will be. We’re safe, Samuel… and we’re so close now… so close to the end.”
“They’re dragging me, Sinod,” the boy said, a red gleam shining in his eyes. “They’re dragging me away.”
“No!” shouted Sinod, shaking Samuel violently now. “No, they’re not… No, they won’t… They… You must hold on, Samuel… We’re so close now… We’re so close to the end… You must hold on!”
“I… I can feel them… I can feel them… I can feel them…”
The white mist came, and into the boy’s insides went, through a mouth that it shattered, through ears that it smoldered, through eyes that it stripped of every tone of green. The white mist came, ruthless and voracious, yet carrying that foul and wretched disease of madness, yet embracing those harrowing and excruciating purposes… The white mist came… It came again… Only that now it was not for him… Only that now it was not for Sinod…
“Samuel! Samuel! Samuel! Samuel! Samuel! Samuel!”
But his words were futile. Samuel’s face had turned pale and his hands cold. The enthusiasm he had expressed when they first met had vanished in the wind, replaced by an irrepressible despair. And his eyes—his eyes shone as intensely as Sir Larson’s eyes had shone in the glade where he found his death. Sinod pressed his hands with all his strength, trying to bring the heat back to his body, but his attempts were unsuccessful… He was gone… Samuel Jurgersen was gone… The spirits of the forest had taken him.
“Damn you!” Sinod could give no credit to his eyes. They had been so close. “Damn you!” Within his heart grew a colossal regret, an overwhelming grief, but above all a devastating anger. “Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!”
It exploded. Everything within him, every desire for vengeance, every ounce of hatred he had been concealing, every dose of pain and rage and bitterness and ire and loathing and grudge and fury… It all exploded…
“Damn you! Damn all of you! You… You damn things… You… You couldn’t break me… You couldn’t… So now… now you go after an innocent child … now you attempt to drag a young weak soul into your bloody world of shadows. You are… You are… You are cowards… You’re nothing but filthy cowards!”
The air became abruptly sultry, and his sight began navigating realms of fog, and the darkness rose to transform the trees into columns of smoke. But to all of this Sinod could solely react in a simple manner: To all this, to all these tricks he had already seen, to the anger and fury of the spirits of the forest he had already been witness of, he had already triumphed over, he could only smile.
“Come for me! I’m still not out of the forest! I’m still within your reach!”
The mist rose. As a wave ireful and hungry, it rose into the far sky and then tried to collapse into him, tried to drown him and suffocate him. But this was another trick of the spirits that he had seen. He knew exactly what he had to do.
Still holding Samuel’s wintry hand, Sinod unsheathed the red sword he had been hiding under his robes since his encounter with the boy. The weapon shone as a torch in the darkness, as a lonely fire in a wasteland, as an abandoned star in a sea of emptiness. The mist that had come in unrestrained rage suddenly halted, and, as everything around started acquiring a shade of crimson, in apparent pain and agony, as if stricken into the very heart, could do nothing but recoil, the spirits within fleeing from the scene, defeated by the intense glow of the sword.
Almost instantly, Sinod recovered all use of his senses whereas the forest returned to its normal form. He did not care about that, however. After all, Samuel was more important at that instant. The boy remained on his knees, his eyes lost yet open, his body as cold as ice. Quite soon, however, air started venturing into his lungs again, and color returned to his pale skin. But soon as well the boy collapsed into the ground, out of strength after an event Sinod could not have foreseen, after another direful demonstration of the might of the spirits of the forest. Choosing not to risk anything, Sinod lifted the boy and carried him away, all the while repeating in his head: We’re close… We’re close… And he’s alive… Samuel is alive… That’s all that matters… He’ll get better once we get out of this dreadful place…
