FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #5

A boy with a parrot on his shoulder was walking along the railway tracks. His light brown hair and hazel eyes didn’t set him apart in a crowd and there was slightness to his build that made him seem fragile, but he had a wiry strength that came from growing up on the rougher side of town. He had never gone this far before and as his eyes swept back and forth in the dark ravine he began to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. Just as he was beginning to contemplate turning back, his mind drifted back a few hours to the conversation that had spurred him on this journey.

A wave of resolution swept over him and he decided he should keep going. She said it was the only way and he couldn’t stand the thought of failure. Tears began welling up in his eyes as the prospect of defeat crept along the edges of his thoughts. He scrubbed them away with the back of his hand as he told himself he was too old to cry.

Just then the parrot squawked and fluttered a bit, as if to remind the boy to keep going. He wondered why Nona insisted he bring the tiresome creature. They had never been friends; the parrot and the boy, and now its beady, black eyes seemed too intent, too knowledgeable.

As he continued down the rocky path he pushed his fist into his pocket and fingered the talisman his mother had shoved into his hand. He had never seen it before and he wondered where she came about it. A tiny gold chain held a fat disk that had a smooth black stone in its center. There was strange writing all along the edges, and it made his hand warm when he touched it. He thought about what she had said. You will know when to use it.

She had told him what to do with it, but somehow he didn’t think that was what she meant. How would he know if he didn’t even know what it was? He picked his steps carefully as the pathway began to grow steeper. How long had he been walking? It was so dark outside, and his feet began to get sore. The moon reflected off a pool of water and he realized he was thirsty. His throat was so dry after running all that way. He lifted his canteen to his lips and as the last drops barely moistened his lips he realized that he had finished the water he had brought with him.

He stared at the pool of water a moment longer, trying to ignore his thirst. He decided he should keep going. The urgency in Nona’s voice scared him. Nona scared him. She had lived with them for as long as he could remember. Now, thinking about it, he wondered where she came from. Her stooped body made her seem even older than she was, yet there was vitality about her. She always had little phrases she would say that didn’t really make sense to him, and she had a frightening way of muttering to herself much of the time, but his mother seemed to like him.

Thinking of his mother brought a smile to his face. She was so pale, so beautiful. She had been sick as long as he could remember. Too sick to work, so Nona always worked, taking in laundry and mending to keep bread on the table.

The moon was bright in the black night when he saw the building he was searching for. A lone farmhouse, standing proudly, even though it had been abandoned long ago. He looked at it intently for a moment, noting the willow tree bowing in the light summer wind, with a swing, dangling broken from one of its limbs. He stepped through the gate into the front yard, knowing this was the place.

Nona’s words echoed in his mind as he recalled her frantic whispers. Her hand was squeezing his arm so tight it almost brought tears to his eyes. She made him look in her eyes and promise to follow her commands exactly. Her eyes seemed to bore straight to his soul and he licked his dry lips as he quickly agreed to her orders. Now he tried to remember what she said.

She sounded like she was babbling. Most of what she said didn’t even make sense. He knows the way. Who? The parrot? He stood in the doorway for a moment and gripped the medallion with his right hand. He lifted it and held it to his forehead until it began to burn.

“Ela, machen hoven, machen ronan.” He chanted, the way that Nona had told him. He felt silly and wondered what he was supposed to do if this didn’t work. He blinked. Everything seemed like it shifted.

“Ela, machen hoven, machen ronan.”

Blink.

The smell of something he couldn’t quite place wafted to his nostrils. A stale smell like old wood. The entire farmhouse seemed as though he were looking at it cross-eyed. Everything blurred and then righted itself making him feel dizzy. The parrot squawked loudly, distracting him.

“Ela, machen hoven, machen ronan.” He intoned again.

Blink.

He felt as though his head weighed fifty pounds. He could barely hold it upright. What was happening? The parrot shifted and dug his claws into the boy’s shoulders. He struggled to hold the necklace to his forehead as he tried the words again, struggling to focus on the door, as the yard around him seemed as though it was spinning.

“Ela, machen hoven, machen ronan.”

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

 

The boy opened his eyes, squinting against the bright morning sunlight. He shifted his weight to find comfort on the cold earth until he remembered the events that had taken place the evening before. He looked around; realizing that what happened last night must have been a dream. There were trees everywhere, all around him, and he had the feeling that he had stepped into a long forgotten part of the forest. The air was the brisk of early autumn and the leaves were just beginning to change. There was no house in sight, as far as his eyes could see. The realization dawned on him that there was no farmhouse nearby. As he grasped at that thought, he knew it should bother him but he did not know why.

A rustling behind a nearby tree caught his attention. He crouched to the ground, not knowing what to expect, steeling himself for the miserable possibility that a wild animal could emerge and he was absolutely defenseless. Just then, a wizened man, stooped with age stepped from behind the copse. The old man was dressed like a beggar, and his bushy eyebrows almost completely covered his eyes. The boy shrank back, hoping the old man’s eyesight had dimmed with his years, praying his luck would hold out. The man looked straight at the boy, and with a gnarled finger crooked in his direction the man called out, “You, boy! Come here.” The boy hesitated. He had always been raised to do what a grown up said, but surely this was an exception.

“Ableard, come here.” The boy froze where he stood. That wasn’t his name, but he could feel the hackles on the back of his neck rising. Something tugged at the back of his mind as if he was missing something very important but it kept eluding his grasp. With a puzzled look on his face he turned to the man. “Why did you call me that?”
”That is your name, boy. Now come over here.” The boy shook his head slowly, but doubt was beginning to flood his mind. The man seemed so sure, and something kept niggling at the back of his mind.

Suddenly, he realized his parrot was nowhere to be found. He looked around everywhere and began to grow frantic. He ducked behind bushes and searched the lofty branches of the forest trees desperately but saw no sign of the pet. “What are you looking for?” The voice at his elbow made him jump. He hadn’t even seen the old man walk up.

Tears threatened to spill out as he said, “My Nona’s parrot.” Another realization turned his stomach into an icy ball. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be. There was no farmhouse, no railroad tracks, no tree with a tire swing.

“What have you done? Where am I?” The boys voice began to quaver as despair overwhelmed him. Just then a rustling sound caught his attention. He ran toward the noise, ignoring the ancient man’s pleas for him to stay. He rounded a corner to see the backside of a horse. He ducked back behind a bush as the horse’s rider looked around, apparently searching for something. The man pushed on and soon was out of sight. As the lad sat there, mulling over his situation, a strange thing came to his mind. The man on the horse was wearing armor.

He had never seen someone wearing armor before. Maybe he was part of the carnival that was coming to town. They were not supposed to be arriving until next week, but maybe he was here early. Maybe he knew where the railway tracks were.

Just as he began to pursue the path the armored figure had taken a hand caught his sleeve. “You listen to me, young man, you will not run off like that. I am supposed to be taking care of you.” Something about the old man’s beady eyes seemed familiar. The boy felt as though he could not look at them too long without feeling like he should be remembering something that was just out of his grasp, like a feather-light tickle at the back of his mind.

“I don’t even know who you are!” The boy began running in the direction of the horseman. He clutched the medallion in his hand as he ran, tears streaming down his cheeks. This was the last thing that connected him with his mother. He didn’t have any time to waste with the strange old man. His mother was dying.

He thought about her now, her sweet smile bringing an ache to his heart. The thought of life without her would be so bleak. The young boy had no friends and was rarely allowed out of the house. Envisioning spending his days with Nona in that lonely little hovel was more than he could bear. Suddenly, he began to sob. He hid his face in his sleeve and tried to stop but the tears just kept coming. He started as the strange old man patted his back.

“Come with me, son. I will take you where you need to go.” He just stared at the old man. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. As he considered his options, he realized the best looking one was to just go with the old man, as dismal as that seemed. How could he trust this man who was a complete stranger? He was obviously insane and thought the boy was someone else.

As he began to stand up, he wiped the tears from his eyes and strengthened his resolve to get to the bottom of this. The man produced some bread and cheese and suddenly the boy realized he was hungry. He devoured the simple meal as they made their way through the forest. The old man seemed to be looking for something.

“Here we are!” He said to himself. The boy looked around. He didn’t see anything special, it just looked as if they were standing in front of another mound of grass and trees and rocks. The old man brushed away some moss and pushed his staff into a groove in the rock.

What felt like an earthquake suddenly knocked the boy off his feet. He stumbled and fell to the ground. Dusting off his pants, he stared at the side of the mountain in awe. Where there had been nothing before, there was now a cave whose entrance was about three feet across. The old man squeezed inside, with a mumbled “wait here” and was quickly back out in the sunlight. He thrust a package that looked as though it were wrapped in brown leather at the boy.
”Put this on.” He said, gruffly. The boy unfastened the straps to find a bundle of velvet and satin.

“I don’t-“, before he could continue the man cut him off.

“Just do as you’re told.” The boy pulled on the clothes, a little loose in some spots and too tight in others.

“Is this a costume?” He finally asked. The old man frowned at him for a moment.

“You could say that. Just do as you’re told and follow my instructions closely.” They began climbing up a steep hill and the boy struggled to keep up with the old man. The rest of the day they followed streams and animal trails until they reached a wider dirt road, that looked as though it was used frequently.

For two days they followed the trail, stopping only to eat bread and cheese, or perhaps some berries they were lucky enough to find, and sleep on the cold ground. On the third day, the boy spotted five or six horses on the path ahead.

“Look! There are some men over there!” He excitedly told the old man.

“Hush now, lad, and do exactly as I say.” The boy eyed the old man warily, but decided to do as he said.

As the horsemen approached them, the boy noticed they were wearing some sort of armor. He began to grow nervous as they grew nearer, but the old man straightened his back and seemed to carry enough confidence for the both of them.

“Get your medallion ready boy, and when I signal you, place it against your forehead like you did at the old farmhouse.” The boy began to comply, then started as he wondered how the old man had seen him.

“How did you-“

“Quiet, now.”

The horsemen approached and hailed the man and the boy. The old man greeted them in return, and with a slight tremor in his voice said, “Are you believers of the Oracle’s prophecies?”
The soldier in front stiffened in his saddle and roughly put a hand to his heart, “Peace will return to the kingdom when He Who Bears the Mark sits on the throne.” He quoted with fervency.

The old man nodded at the boy. He raised the talisman to his forehead and held it there, just as he had before. For a moment, nothing happened, and then suddenly as though the black stone in the center drew all the sun’s rays to itself at once, it heated to a point that felt as though it were searing the young boy’s forehead and a rainbow of colors filled the air around them. Stunned looks marked each of the soldier’s faces. The boy pulled the medallion away and looked at it. The stone now looked as though it were a very dark purple.

The soldiers stood staring until the one in front dismounted and quickly strode to the boy. He unsheathed his sword and dropped to one knee, holding out the sword in front of him, “I pledge my sword to your service, my king.”

Confused, the boy looked at the old man with unspoken questions in his eyes. The old man, with a twinkle in his eye, said to the soldier, “It will be a tough road ahead, but we will do what we must. Spread the word to your troops that Ableard has returned and will take the throne. Those who speak for him without delay will be welcomed with open arms. Those who hesitate will be taken as traitors.” The soldier stiffly bowed and turned to mount his horse.

“I will carry your message, sir. By your leave.” He mounted and led away his escort. The boy turned to the old man.

“I don’t understand, what’s going on? How do you know so much about me?” The old man smiled a grandfatherly smile, “My family has served the throne for generations. It was only natural that I was chosen as one of the three to accompany you. Your mother and the witch both needed to be there for their own purposes, though nothing turned out as we thought.

“We had been hiding in the Land Beyond since just after you were born. We planned to have the witch take us back when you were old enough, but they followed us. Those who had planned to take over Mierderlaad sent assassins after us. We were not aware that they were following us until it was too late. They poisoned your mother, and the longer she stayed away in the Land Beyond, the worse she fared. We realized we had better act quickly or years of hiding and plotting would be wasted.

“You are the true heir. The pure bloodline has been in hiding for three generations. It is only your return that will bring peace and unite the Three Lands. Men like these soldiers have heard fortellings of your coming. We await your ascension to the throne, Prince Ableard.”

The boy stood there for a moment, shocked. The pieces began falling together. Everybody always said his mother had a funny way of talking. The secrecy that filled their lives. The way Nona and Mother argued about things that didn’t make sense. The only thing he couldn’t place was where the parrot fit in.

As he turned to the old man to ask another question, he realized he recognized those eyes.

back to Contest #5