TEEN: Darkness before Dawn (3)

[Marcat]

This a new story I've been working on for sometime. It took me sometime to get a plotline and characters worked out. Now I do plan on making a sequel depending on my status at the time and how much feedback I get. I'll cross that bridge when I get there though.

The idea sorta hit me while playing Black Version a while ago. I'm not sure if anyone has done this yet, but I'm sure that its plot and characters will set it apart. I ask that anyone reading this to have the patience to follow this story through.

Its been a long time since I've written again, so bear with me please. So, without further ado, I present to you... the prologue!
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Darkness Before Dawn

Prologue
Book One: Nightfall
Chapter One: Malin
Chapter Two: Discoveries
Chapter Three: Not Worthy of Mercy
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Prologue

“Emolga, use Electro ball!” A young boy called to his pokemon, he pointed at another pokemon at the other side of the battlefield.

The boy was eleven and was fairly tall for his age. He was dressed casually; he wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a green shirt. His hair was jet black, and his eyes were a deep shade of blue, shining like the sea. Like the sea, the boy’s eyes were mysterious; as if they were hiding untold secrets in those ominous depths of blue. The jeans were ripped and torn at the ends and had faded grass stains all over it, at his belt hung three pokeballs. All of this was evidence of a pokemon trainer and one who had experience at that.

At his order, the electric squirrel pokemon charged a ball of electricity and hurled it at its foe, a Scraggy. The ball of electricity collided with the Scraggy which simply fell to the ground in a heap, unable to withstand the power of the attack.

“I believe I win,” The trainer declared, a victorious smirk on his face.

The other trainer returned his pokemon. “That was a good battle,” He stepped forward to hand the victor his winnings. “Here, this is yours.”

The boy counted his money quickly, a gleeful look in his eyes, “Nice doin’ business with ya!” He turned and began to walk away, his Emolga gliding alongside him.

Route 4 in Unova turned out to be an uneventful road for him. Throughout his thirty- minute walk, all he encountered were wild pokemon. This was a problem for the trainer; he needed to battle trainers not just for the experience, but to secure himself a meal. Every trainer he met was another sucker that meant more money for him. The way things were going, it seems he would have to settle for Pokemon Center food…again. Sure, it was free, but it tasted plain horrible.

He was contemplating his disgusting fate when an odd sound reached his ears. He turned quickly, expecting to see a pokemon. Yet all he found was an old man groaning as he tossed and turned on a bench.

The man looked a like a dead tree. He was tall and thin, his arms and legs were gnarled beyond belief, and they looked so brittle that he feared they would break at the slightest touch. Tufts of white hair grew on his head, the wrinkles on his face made it look like he was shedding skin. He was dressed in rags that covered him like a blanket. Snoring could be heard from the man as he tried to find comfort on the bench.

The boy noticed what vaguely resembled a hat lying beside the old man, turned upside down. It was obvious the man was homeless and poor. So taking pity on his helpless form, the boy slowly approached him and dropped some change into the hat. He dropped just enough to buy him a cheap meal.

The boy was just about to continue his trek when a hand shot out and grabbed his right arm. He yelped in surprise and tried to pull away but failed; the hand was gripping his like a vice. He turned to stare into the eyes of the old man who was now completely awake.

“Who are you?! What is your name?!”The man growled at the boy.

Panic enveloped the boy; he tugged at his arm harder while speaking behind clenched teeth. “Simon! Now let me go!”

“Hmph, Simon, why did you disturb my rest?” The man demanded.

“I-I thought you were poor! I only wanted to give you some money.” He said quickly.

The man paused, releasing Simon’s arm. Simon backed away from him, rubbing his arm. “You thought I was poor?” The man said thoughtfully.

“Yes!”

The man paused again, as if he was trying to swallow the fact. Then, without warning, he burst into laughter, rolling around on the bench and clutching his sides. His laughter was so loud; it filled the forest and caused some Pidoves to fly away in fear.

Simon stared at the man in confusion. “What’s so funny?!” He demanded.

Upon hearing Simon’s words the man began to calm down, though he spoke in between fits of giggles. “I’m sorry, forgive me.” He said. “It’s just that…that hat fell off while I was sleeping and you thought I was begging.”

Simon glared at the old shriveled man; he was beginning to regret giving up his much needed money to him, “Whatever, later old man.” For the third time that day, he turned to leave, and for the second time that day, he was stopped.

“Wait!” The man called. “I can’t let you go. You have stained my honor by giving me money like a common beggar.”

Simon turned at him, “What?” He said in disbelief.

“I have to pay you back. Something in exchange for the money you gave me.” The man said.

“Uh…” Simon doubted that he had anything he wanted, and doubted that he any food on him either.

“I see that you are perplexed.” The man said. “I do have a talent for telling stories. Let me tell you one.”

Simon was desperate to get away from the weird old man, so he was more than happy to spend a minute listening to a stupid story and be rid of him. He slowly approached him and sat down on the bench. Taking this as a sign to begin, the man cleared his throat.

“Let me tell you of a time before most legends came into being, a story so old that it has fallen into darkness and obscurity, forgotten by all but me. There was once a time when Pokemon and man once clashed against each other on the field of a battle. They were known as monsters at that time and were feared and hunted. Their powers mystified Man and fearing what they couldn’t understand, they hunted them down. Pokemon were hunted to near extinction until, out of nowhere, they began to organize themselves and fight back.”

“Though Pokemon burned the human’s lands, ate their crops and killed any of their kind they would encounter, Man would not fade away. For Man’s adaptability and resourcefulness would always keep them from going extinct. Yet despite that, Man still remained unable to defeat the powerful Pokemon. The war raged for generations, and any hopes of peace were dashed. To keep the hatred of Pokemon still burning in Man’s heart, High Priests would preach to them about the ‘monsters’ and warned them from ever keeping one alive. The High Priests were spiritual leaders and were followed blindly; no one dared question their reason.”

“Yet there was one man who overcame that war. His name was Malin, a human who fought the humans alongside the pokemon. Malin was the first ever ‘monster tamer’, the first of a long line of them. He indirectly managed to stop the war and bring a reign of peace to the land of Unova. That is my story. “

Simon stared at the man in disinterest. This “story” sounded more like a long winded lie. With a few murmured words of thanks, he got up and left. The old man watched him go; an inhuman smile was on his face. Once Simon had left the area, he got up and surrounded himself with a veil of light.

Once the light had faded away, his new form was revealed, a tall blue stag with big yellow horns adorning its head. A big tuft fur covered its neck and its shoulder blades seemed to elongate and become something like fins. Its eyes were calm and foreboding, like the sea before a storm. It spoke in a composed voice, like every word was purposefully chosen and weighed; one couldn’t help but be intimidated by it.

“Foolish boy; cannot recognize history even when it stares him in the face.” He said to himself. “As usual, humans only recall what pleases them.”

It turned to the forest. “I will find your heir, young one, the one with the power to bring peace again.” The stag galloped into the undergrowth.

 

[Kwame120]

Re: Darkness before Dawn

Great! Quite interesting, delves straight into the plot and has good humour. Making me laugh is very rare. I look forward to reading the rest. Smiley face.

 

[Marcat]

Re: Darkness before Dawn

Thanks, I hope to get the first chapter up soon.

 

[Safe]

Re: Darkness before Dawn

I read this the moment I got home, on the phone.

So I guess the prologue has little to do with the storyline, but I can see how the plot's going to fold.

Just one question, what was that pokemon you described at the end?

 

[Safe]

Re: Darkness before Dawn

I read this the moment I got home, on the phone.

So I guess the prologue has little to do with the storyline, but I can see how the plot's going to fold.

Just one question, what was that pokemon you described at the end?

 

[Flaze]

Re: Darkness before Dawn

Seems like an interesting idea, I assume the stag at the end is oen of the Three Musketeers right?

 

[Marcat]

Re: Darkness before Dawn

Correct! Cobalion to be exact. They'll be part of the story later on.
Thanks for reading.

 

[Flaze]

Re: Darkness before Dawn

I was reading the entries for them and I realized that the story was about the Three Musketeers.

 

[Marcat]

Re: Darkness before Dawn

I was reading the entries for them and I realized that the story was about the Three Musketeers.

Not exactly, the Three Musketeers will appear in the story and have a part to play in it, but the story will not revolve around them as main characters.

Now, the story will be divided into three parts call "Books". The length of each book depends on the events that take place in it. May I present the first chapter from Book One. Its crucial that whoever reading this to refer to prologue if they get stuck, since it gives a general explanation to the setting and plot.

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Book One: Nightfall

Chapter One: Malin

Night was beginning to fall in the village; heavy rain pounded the houses and flooded the streets, making it difficult to walk. Everyone was in their houses, seeking refuge by a fire. It was remarkable how such houses made of wood and mud could withstand such downpour.
The village was small; the houses were few and roughly built. The only house that was made of stone belonged to the Duke. The mansion stood at the edge of the village overlooking it all. Looking at it would give you a sense of grandeur and royalty. It defied belief that this desolate, gloomy place would later become Nimbasa City.

In the mansion, a young twelve year old boy was running through the corridors, hurrying to reach the person who was calling to him now. At first glance, the boy seemed very frail. He was small and pale; as if every physical attribute from a regular boy had been miniaturized. All around his body, skin clung to bone; it protruded from under his skin at the shoulders, arms and legs. His long jet black hair was untidy and stuck out in odd angles all around his head. He was dressed in rags that resembled a shirt and trousers.

The most striking feature of him was the eyes. They were an intimidating piercing blue, but when looking into them, it seemed there was something hidden in them, almost as if this small, weak boy had untold strength. Not the mundane strength to preform physical feats, but the strength of heart. Ever since his birth, people would stare into his eyes like a dream before they even uttered a word to him. This made the boy feel uncomfortable, so in an attempt to hide them, he would always look down into the ground when spoken to. As a side effect, it also gave people the impression that he was submissive, so he was always treated with the least degree of respect, if any.

He panted as his legs struggled to get him to his destination, the boy ran through the corridors and down into the dungeons where he stopped abruptly at the kitchens.

“You called, Sir?” He said hastily, making an effort to keep his eyes to the ground.

The cook eyed him. He was a middle aged man in his early fifties. He was short and fat with arms that resembled meat sacks. His face was pudgy and eyes that seemed to have burrowed into his skull. He was wearing regular trousers and shirt both made of rags. The only thing that distinguished him from any other peasant was the apron. By some sort miracle, he had managed wrap it around his huge waist.

Without warning, the cook hit the boy on the head with the ladle in his hand. There was a look of fierce satisfaction on his face as he watched the boy cringe, holding his head in pain. “What have I told you about answering quickly, Malin?”

The boy named Malin flinched. “Sorry sir…”

“Quiet! You will not utter a nary word when I address you, boy!” The cook yelled back. “Now, I want you to take this soup straight to the Duke in his room. If I find that you spilled a single drop then, so help me, I’ll tan your hide. Understood?!”

“Yes, sir.”

The cook ladled the soup into a large bowl and set in on a tray. With the utmost dexterity, he handed the tray to Malin. “Off with you now.”

Tray in hand, Malin hurried off again. Within minutes, he arrived at the Duke’s room. With difficulty, Malin managed to knock the door. A muffled “come in” came in response, so he opened the door and entered the room. The room, of course, was much larger and grander than any of the other rooms in the mansion, and sitting upright in the bed was the Duke himself. He wore his red sleeping robe as he watched Malin enter the room.

The Duke of Nimbasa had all the features of a gentleman. His blonde hair was perfectly combed to the side, his blue eyes, though not as striking as Malin’s, were intimidating. His mouth was frozen in a constant frown. He was handsome, in a stern sort of manner.

But what the Duke lacked was the manners of a gentleman. Like his features, he was tough, stern and most of all, ruthless. He never accepted any misbehavior, and any deviation from routine or normal behavior was usually rewarded with a lashing. On more than one occasion, villagers would be caught and sent to the stockades for reasons that bordered the illogical. Unsurprisingly, the people of Nimbasa village disliked him, and made a point to avoid him at all costs. His reputation in the village was little better than your common thief.

As always, Malin kept his eyes to the tray. “I brought the Duke his soup to cure his illness.” Malin said quickly.

Malin only caught glimpses of the Duke throw the bed sheets and take the tray. “Yes. Well, it’s about time.” The duke said in annoyance. “I was beginning to think that you would never arrive.”

“Forgive me, sir.” Malin said quietly.

The Duke grunted. Malin then ceased his chance to leave, shuffling out of the room and into the corridors. He was beginning to feel hungry and so, he went to the storage room to find something to eat.

Within a few minutes, Malin was on the floor of the storage room, tearing into a piece of bread and a small piece of cheese. He could only take that amount of food so no one would notice any missing. On more than one occasion, he had been caught stealing food, and the consequences were painful. Malin’s back still itched from the last beating he gotten for being caught in the act.

Suddenly, a loud creaking sound echoed in the room. Malin jumped in surprise and hurried to conceal his stolen food and hide behind sack of potatoes. The sound of small footsteps resounded in the room and a voice whispered into the gloomy darkness.

“Malin?” The voice whispered urgently. “Malin, are you there?”

Malin let out a sigh of relief. He came out of his hiding place to lay eyes on his friend. “I’m right here, Alistair.” He said.

The boy named Alistair frowned. He was a fourteen year old boy. He was much taller than Malin and built much sturdier. His body was muscular from the physical chores he was tasked with every day; his arms were large and strong, veins bulged every time he moved them. His face was very handsome; his long hair was brown and wavy, his eyes were the color of honey and his face lit up every time he smiled.

“Didn’t I warn you about stealing food again?” Alistair said, putting his hands at his hips. “Didn’t you learn anything from your past experience?”

Malin looked him straight in the eye; there was a mischievous look in them. “I learned that if I’m going to survive under the ‘care’ of the Duke, then I have to steal and not get caught while I’m at it.”

Alistair sighed; there was simply no convincing Malin once he put his mind to it. Alistair was probably the only one in the entire village that actually understood Malin. He was also the only one to look Malin in the eye and the only one to not be hypnotized by them.

“You should be more grateful to the Duke,” Alistair said. “Be thankful rather than stealing from him.”

Malin dropped his gaze, his fists clenched. In truth, Malin was known as the Duke’s ‘son’. Malin was an orphan; his father had died in a battle against the Monsters and his mother gave her life to give birth to him. The village took pity at the small form of Malin at the time. So the Duke, in an attempt to mend his reputation, took him in as a son. Of course, as soon as Malin entered the Duke’s premises, he was nothing more than a servant. When he stepped out, he was known as the Duke’s son.

“What is there to be thankful for? I’m nothing more than a servant.” Malin growled. “Nothing more.”

Alistair gave him a pained look and ruffled Malin’s hair in a brotherly manner. “Stay here; I’ll go get some more food.” He said as he walked away. “Bread and cheese does not make for a good meal for two.”

After a few minutes, Malin and Alistair were both sitting on the cold hard floor of the storage room, eating bread, cheese, and minced meat and drinking milk. They enjoyed their feast while they still could, because as soon as they stepped out of their sanctuary, a harsh cruel world awaited them.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

 

[Flaze]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (1)

Malin was the name of the old man was it not? so we'll get a view at his past and what happened to him. That seems great though then I wonder how old he really is and how he could be that old.

Your description in this chapter about the duke and how it felt to live in the mansion were really good and detailed, not just that but it answered a lot of questions that could've been kept going had you not explained that. Also I want to see more about life in the past and about the war.

 

[Kwame120]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (1)

Hm, that's interesting. Immediately strays away from the themes of the first chapter, but does that in a brilliant way. Quite like the language used and writing skills, as well as an interesting plots that's engaging from the start. I look forward to chapter 2.

 

[Safe]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (1)

Great chapter, your description was flawless and reading it was easy, I didn't feel I had to reread some parts to understand.

Nice job on the characters too, your characterization was great, despite it being the first chapter I could easily distinguish them.

 

[Kantomasta]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (1)

Just read the first too chapters and I have to say I think they are great. Your description is really good and I am interested to find out what happens. Definately reading.

 

[Marcat]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (1)

Droppin' by to check out your comments and answer some of them. Btw, the next chapter will probably be due tomorrow or early after tomorrow (My local time).

Malin was the name of the old man was it not? so we'll get a view at his past and what happened to him. That seems great though then I wonder how old he really is and how he could be that old.

Your description in this chapter about the duke and how it felt to live in the mansion were really good and detailed, not just that but it answered a lot of questions that could've been kept going had you not explained that. Also I want to see more about life in the past and about the war.

-Well, not really. Malin was mentioned in the old man's story. The old man was actually Cobalion in disguise who was searching for "The one to bring peace again." Aka, Hilbert/Hilda. But thats beside the point. Since the prologue doesn't have anything to do with the main story plot-wise. You'll see what I mean later on in the story.
-Thank you. There's alot of things to explain and its easy to forget something. If I forget to explain a detail or something than that could lead to plot-holes, something I don't want (Duh). The next chapter will address those exact points, too.

Hm, that's interesting. Immediately strays away from the themes of the first chapter, but does that in a brilliant way. Quite like the language used and writing skills, as well as an interesting plots that's engaging from the start. I look forward to chapter 2.

Thanks! I hope you continue to read my work.

Great chapter, your description was flawless and reading it was easy, I didn't feel I had to reread some parts to understand.

Nice job on the characters too, your characterization was great, despite it being the first chapter I could easily distinguish them.

Thanks, Rem. Description was a little hard to nail, so its nice to know that I've done well with it.

Just read the first too chapters and I have to say I think they are great. Your description is really good and I am interested to find out what happens. Definately reading.

Thanks for reading!

 

[Heartz]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (1)

Great writing. You definetly have a skill with it. Descriptions, dialogue and characters all flow and weave together perfectly. Can't wait to read the rest! Keep up the great work!

 

[Marcat]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (1)

Okay... so it took a little bit longer for me to finish the chapter than I intially expected.
Anyway, If you read this and you want to follow the story, than I can add you to a tagging list every chapter. That way, you can be automatically notified whenever a new chapter comes up, so if you're interested let me know.
Fingers crossed, I hope this chapter turns out okay...
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Chapter Two: Discoveries

“Malin, Malin wake up!” A vague voice called. Malin could feel himself being shaken none too lightly. “Malin wake up, blast it!”

After being shaken a couple more times, Malin managed to get into an upright sitting position. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and looked up at Alistair who had been shaking him awake. He looked around, trying to get a bearing of where he was.

It seemed he had fallen asleep on the storage room floor after eating all that food last night. It also seemed as if Alistair had also covered him with a blanket after he had dozed off.

Alistair smiled. “You sleep like rock, I hope you know.”

Malin didn’t answer; he tried to stand up and stopped when an aching pain spilt his back and neck. He grunted and sat back down, rubbing his neck.

Alistair laughed. “That would be my doing; I forgot to wake you so you could go to your real bed.”

Malin’s eyebrows furrowed. Alistair was always acting like he was his responsibility. “Don’t be a fool. This is not your doing.” He said. “Besides, my real bed is no better than this one.”

Malin’s ‘real bed’ was actually a mound of leftover cloth and rags piled next to the stove in the kitchen. The Duke hadn’t been kind enough to give him his own room like a real son, so he was forced to collect anything remotely soft from the mansion and pile them in a way to resemble a bed. Even though it was much more comfortable than sleeping on hard floor, it still caused aches and pains that constantly crippled his activity in the morning, albeit a little less extreme than the pain he felt now.

“Fair enough,” Alistair conceded. “Once the pain subsides, I need you to accompany me in the gardens today. The Duke requests us that was plant some more trees for him today and I need some help to finish this task.” Alistair then left the storage room quickly, leaving Malin to deal with the pain that was traveling up his back and neck.

It took ten minutes of continuous rubbing until Malin was able to stand up again. Without even taking the time to wash his face, he left the room and headed straight to the gardens. The Duke’s gardens were well known for its beauty and the diversity of the plants it contained. Plants were arranged into groups based on their location. Local vegetation was at the forefront of the garden while the rarer trees were tucked away from the public eye.

Money that would’ve been better spent on maintaining the village was used to buy rare and delicate trees. The garden was so big, that it required a whole day’s worth of labor just to maintain it. The Duke of Nimbasa placed especial care to the garden; anyone who dared to harm any tree was dealt with severely. Despite this, Malin always had the urge to destroy every plant he saw as soon as he entered the garden. Not because he hated the plants, but to get some sort of revenge against the Duke for his mistreatment all these years.

This feeling did not change when he stepped outside this time, too. Malin walked among the trees, a look of boredom on his face. Had it been anyone but Malin, they would’ve been awed by the rich green color of the leaves, or the deep red and blue of the flowers that littered the ground. They would’ve stopped to listen to the rustle of the leaves as the breeze caressed them or the soft gurgle of water from a creek that flowed nearby. They would’ve been enticed by the smell of crushed pine and roses. Anyone would have been amazed, anyone but Malin.

He walked up to Alistair, who was busy digging a hole for another tree, he was already sweaty and panting from the heat and labor. A piece of his shirt was ripped off and wrapped around hands to keep them from getting blisters. He noticed Malin and smiled, gesturing to him to come help him. Within moments, Malin and Alistair were both in the hole together, digging the hole for a tree.

But there was something bothering Malin; usually there was a gardener to do all this work. It was his job to maintain the garden, water the plants, and plant trees. Yet here they were, digging a hole while the gardener was nowhere to be found.

“Alistair?” Malin said in a breathless voice.

Alistair paused from his digging, he turned to Malin. “Yes?” He said expectantly.

“Where’s the gardener?” Malin asked. “Isn’t his job to do this work?”

Alistair didn’t reply. He stabbed his shovel into the ground and leaned on it, there was a brooding look on his face; as if he was deciding the best way to explain it to him. Finally he spoke; he spoke slowly, as if he was trying to choose the right words. “He was conscripted.” He said. “He was sent to fight the Monsters.”

Malin’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

Malin was uneducated, even at a time where knowledge was scarce, Malin was clueless. But like every human being at that time, he knew there was a current war raging between the Monsters and Humans and it’s been like that for generations.

The Monsters were feared; they were used as threats to make unruly children behave or scare them. Rewards were offered to those who bring back the head of a monster and those who did were honored and respected. Most of all, Malin knew that those who go to war, usually never come back; his father being one of them. What pained Malin, however, was how Alistair spoke of the gardener as if he was already dead.

Alistair gave Malin a patronizing look. “I’m not the one to tell you this, Malin.” He said quietly.

“That may be true, but you’re the only one.” Malin replied.

Alistair sighed, running a hand through his long brown hair. “Let me see.” He said to himself. “Where do I start?”

“Well, you know that for as long as humanity can recall, we’ve been at war with the Monsters. We’ve fought and battled them, and yet, not matter how many we kill, they return even stronger and fiercer than before. Oddly enough, this war was never a real concern until recently; the Monsters are said to fight back in organized groups. Almost as if they are organized and have leadership.”

Malin pondered Alistair’s words; he heard about these Monsters all the time yet he didn’t know exactly what they were. “What are these ‘Monsters’ exactly?” Malin asked.

Alistair sighed; it was obvious he didn’t want to talk about this. “No one knows exactly what they are or what they are capable of; they’re so many stories about them from veteran soldiers to drunkards. Some say that they can spit fire, others say they are taller than castles, while some say that they are nothing more than frightened innocent creatures.”

“And what do you make of these stories, Alistair?” Malin said.

“I do not make anything of these stories, Malin, because that’s what they are, stories. It isn’t of our concern to waste neither time nor thought on such fabricated stories.” Alistair said in a firm tone.

“But what if we could tame one? Maybe we could-“ Malin began, but Alistair cut him off with a glare.

Alistair returned to digging the hole, his body language making it evident that he wasn’t going to talk anymore.

It took another two hours before Malin and Alistair finished their work in the garden. By the time they were finished, they were both sweaty and exhausted. They returned to the castle, and began to make their way into the kitchens to find something to eat. Much to Malin’s displeasure, the head cook stood in their way.

“Begone with you two rats!” The cook yelled as soon as he saw them, waving his meaty arms, “You will not find food here!”

Malin’s head bowed, but Alistair stepped forward, smiling at the cook. “Come now Waylon, surely you must have something for us to eat?” He said in a diplomatic tone.

The cook snorted. “I would not feed you even if you were starving at my feet.” He said. “You two are nothing more than a burden to The Duke and myself. Strutting in this castle and barely doing any work at all. You belong on the streets! Scavenge your food like the rat you are!”

At this, Malin’s fists clenched, he grounded his teeth together in anger. This time a fierce light was in Alistair’s eyes as he advanced on the cook.

“Now, now, Waylon.” He said menacingly as he approached the cook like a cat cornering a mouse. “Are you sure that that is where you stand? Because I would hate to have to tell the Duke of how you steal from his store of finest wine to take home, or the fact that you ruined one of the Duke’s prized flowers. I would hate to see what would happen to you then, Waylon.” Alistair was face to face with the cook at this point, looking him straight into the eye, there was a maniacal look in Alistair’s eyes.

The cook began to stammer and stutter. He licked his lips, and twisted his apron into knots. “I-I-I… How did you…When did you…Fine.” The cook retreated into the kitchen, when he returned, his arms were laden with two small jars of jam and honey, a few loafs of bread along with a small container of minced meat. He handed them to Alistair. “Now off with you two, I need to finish the Duke’s main course.”

They both took their spoils and headed outside to eat them, sitting under the shade of the trees. They smeared the bread with the jam and honey and ate it ravenously. It didn’t take long for the starving boys to finish their meal, after eating all they could muster; they sat back against the trees and rested.

“Alistair?” Malin said.

“Hm?” Alistair’s voice came from behind the tree, where he was laying on the ground, picking his teeth with a twig.

“How did you manage to blackmail the cook into surrendering the food?”

Alistair smirked from behind the tree. “You survive by stealing food, right?” He replied. “I survive by overcoming the weak-hearted.”

Malin fell silent; he began to wonder where Alistair came from anyway. Every time Malin asked him, he would avoid the question, so Malin gave up after a while. It seemed that Alistair didn’t want anyone to know where he came from. All Malin knew was that he arrived at the castle doors one day and asked for a place to stay, in exchange he became a slave. Alistair was given any job that the servants wouldn’t do, and was barely fed at all. Yet despite that, he knew many servants and even some people from the village who kept him well informed on the current ongoings. Malin looked up to Alistair as a brother more than anything, proof that he too can overcome life’s difficulties.

A long span of silence followed; until it was broken by the voice of a maid calling Alistair from inside, telling him to go fetch some water from the well.

Alistair stood up and began dusting himself. Malin, who was beginning to doze off, stood up quickly, and gave Alistair a quizzical look. Alistair saw him and smiled, “You wish to accompany me?” He asked. “The well is in the forest, can come with me?”

Malin nodded enthusiastically.

Before leaving, the other servants gave them three water containers. They were metallic and fashioned into cylinders; they were tied to their backs so they could haul them back to the castle once they were filled. As soon as they were ready, the two boys left the castle and went into the village.

Nimbasa Village wasn’t very large nor was it very small, most of the houses were closely built and a single path cut through the village and ended at the Duke’s castle. Shops and stalls were scattered amidst the village and crowded the path, the shop owners would yell prices and offer their goods to the passerby.

Among the stalls, story-tellers and old men would stand on a roughly built platforms and recount tales and stories to those who listened. Even though these stories were mostly lies, it was still amusing to listen to them when you have naught else to do. Malin knew this because he had a habit of listening to their stories whenever the chance presented itself; he loved to hear the tales of the Monsters and how they overcame them in epic battles.

Malin and Alistair walked through the bustling crowds; Malin couldn’t help but stare at anything that caught his eye, from freshly caught fish to trinkets. It was as if his eyes couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of so many people and activity. It wasn’t until Alistair pulled him by the collar that Malin snapped out of his trance.

Alistair gave him a hard look. “Don’t stray about, many lose their way here.”

Malin nodded slowly.

At that moment, five men entered the village. One of them wore a cloak emblazoned with the royal coat of arms while the others wore combat armor. The men stood in the middle of the square, “BY ORDERS OF THE HIGH PRIEST!” One of the armored men announced in a loud booming voice.

At those words, the whole village fell silent. The story-tellers stopped in mid-sentence, the merchants stopped yelling prices, the men stopped haggling and mothers forgot their children. Everyone had their eyes on the group of men that had just arrived.

The cloaked man scanned the crowd, a look of satisfaction on his face. “We bear orders from his Highness himself! Our benevolent and wise ruler has issued his orders and we carry them with us.” The cloaked man yelled to the crowd. “The war against the monsters is nearing its end, but we need the all the help we can get to rid the land of these abominations! Our High Priest has devoted himself to cleansing this land from the monsters since the day he took charge of the nation and the time when they cease to exist draws near! ”

“I’m sure all of you know the threat of the monsters that looms closer every passing day. They stalk our houses, threaten our children and pose a danger to the very balance of nature! Should they remain unchecked, they will kill us all and destroy all that we worked so hard to achieve. Nay, they must be stopped!” The man gave a sweeping look at the crowd, as if he was looking at every person individually.

“’What must we do?’ you may ask? Our Highness’ orders are that every family must yield one man to join the army. Eternal glory and honor awaits those who join our efforts in ridding us of this plague. I repeat, every family must yield one man before three day pass.” The man fell silent and with a quick gesture, the small group turned and left, exiting the village through the gates.

As soon as they left, the people began to talk amongst each other. Most of them had worried looks, others were on the verge of tears. Mothers knew that either their son or husband would be leaving to join the war, and they probably won’t come back.

Alistair had a horrified look on his face. “This is very bad…” He voiced and began walking away very quickly.

Malin ran after him, staring at Alistair in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This is very bad,” Alistair repeated again. “This means the war has taken a turn for the worse, they need expendable forces. Forces they can bear to lose.”

Malin’s eyes widened. “Th-They wouldn’t do that, right?” He sputtered as he tried to keep up with Alistair.

“Oh, they would.” Alistair said firmly. “They need forces that can be expended; so they wouldn’t have to risk endangering their trained army. An army they’ve spent a fortune on training, feeding and maintaining.”

It shocked Malin at just how well Alistair knew the matters of war, but he didn’t attempt to give voice to his comment, mostly because he was too tired at the time. Malin hadn’t noticed that he had been jogging to keep up with Alistair’s abnormally fast pace and they had already arrived at the well.

They filled the containers and strapped them to their backs again. The two boys were just about to leave, when a loud rustling sound caught their attention, Malin and Alistair froze, they looked around for the source of the noise. Their eyes fell upon a small bush that was shaking and emitting the same rustling sound they heard before. Alistair stepped forward, keeping his eyes trained on the bush.

“Stay behind me, Malin.” He cautioned. “We don’t know what it is.” He picked up a heavy looking branch and hefted it at his side.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

 

[Kantomasta]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (2)

Great chapter, I have a feeling where this is going. And, could you add me to that tag list please? This Fic is interesting, and i I definately want to see more.

 

[Flaze]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (2)

Seems like things are getting good, now I'm curious about Alistair, maybe he has some kind of past that has to deal with the monsters. On Malin's side I wonder if he'll join the war of maybe the Duke'll just throw him for the recruiters to take him.

 

[Safe]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (2)

wow the really good, as usual your description was great.

Can't wait to see what happens next. I can tell that your pacing is a bit rushed right now, as to get to the core story.

 

[Marcat]

Re: Darkness before Dawn (2)

Hey guys, new chapter up and running. Now as mentioned before, you wanna be tagged? Lemme know and I'll tag ya. Otherwise, I'll stay outta your hair. If you don't mention anything, I won't tag ya.

Not really sure how much is left for the first "book" I'm guessing around 4-5 chapters maybe more. Depends on how much a chapter can take for what I have planned. :3

@KantoMasta ;

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Chapter Three: Not Worthy of Mercy

Alistair stared at the bush, a look of anticipation in his eyes. Malin stood behind him, a look of fear evident on his face. Alistair hefted the branch he had picked up earlier; ready to attack whatever was lurking in the ominous shaking bush.

Suddenly, the shaking stopped and the rustling sound came to an end. Alistair’s shoulders slacked, he threw the branch aside. Malin let out a sigh of relief.

“Maybe it was just the win-“ Alistair began but stopped abruptly; a small purple creature began to emerge from the bush.

It was a feline creature about the size of an average cat. Its head was large and its eyes were a deep green. Violet markings extended from its eyes and towards it ears, which were tufted at the end. It had a long tail that vaguely resembled a scythe. The creature itself was mostly purple in coloration with the exception of its neck, shoulders and hind paws, which were white. This small, feline would later be known as a Purrloin.

Yet, there seems like there was something amiss with the small creature. When a normal creature would flee at the mere sight of humans at that time, this one didn’t seem to notice them at all. The Purrloin was panting, it’s tongue lolled out of it mouth. The cat could barely remain upright; it was shivering uncontrollably.

“It’s dehydrated,” Alistair mused. His voice was sharp and devoid of any emotion.

Malin’s fear did ease at Alistair’s statement. “What is it?”

Alistair frowned. “I do not know. It must be monster, no doubt.” He said. “No sense in killing it, it’ll die soon enough.”

“‘No sense in killing it?’” Malin echoed angrily. “We should help the poor creature! Let it have some of our water, we can always refill it afterwards.”

“No.”

“What? But look at the state of the poor thing!” Malin yelled at Alistair.

“I said no.” Alistair growled. “And I will not allow you to take from the water. In case, you had fallen deaf during the announcement in the village, we are in a state of war. Its brethren are surely nearby and they would not hesitate to kill the both of us. ” Yet despite his words, there was a certain edge to his voice, as if Alistair didn’t even believe what he said.

Malin stared him with his striking blue eyes. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Like so many people before him, Alistair faltered at the sight of Malin’s eyes, but he quickly composed himself. “Be that as it may, I won’t help it and neither will you!”

Malin didn’t understand Alistair’s loathing for the little creature, but he pushed away those thoughts as he headed to the well. The well was a hand dug, six meter shaft of dirt that lead straight to the coveted water below, it raised from the ground at two metres in height and had a roughly built roof to keep anything from falling in. The well also had a simple wooden beam attached, along with a rope and bucket to haul the water up. The well was a vital source of water for Nimbasa Village and was probably the only source for it. Malin looked at the Purrloin, which was still shaking and shuddering.

“Don’t worry,” He whispered to it.

Ignoring Alistair’s angry cries, Malin took off his shoes. He peered into the well, hoping to find courage in the murky, dark depths of it. All he found was a deep dark abyss with water at its base, the sounds of dripping filling the entire shaft with its echoes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered hearing a story about a man who had fallen and died in a well; a story to warn children from climbing down them. A story he was going to disregard.

Steeling himself, Malin clutched one of the shoes he had taken off and grabbed onto the rope used for lowering the bucket. Once he gathered his wits, he stepped over the wall of the well and lowered himself down. Climbing down the well was a dangerous and difficult task; the walls were slick and slippery, hindering his progress and the well itself was very deep. Malin was halfway down the well when he heard Alistair shout at him from above.

“Malin, come back here!” He shouted. “You can’t risk your life for a damned Monster!”

Malin didn’t answer, he simply continued his descent. He slipped twice, grazing his arms against the shaft, but Malin managed to grit his teeth and continue his descent.

After a few minutes, he managed to reach the water below. Using the shoe as a container, he scooped some water with the shoe and began hauling himself up. As it would seem, climbing up the well was harder than climbing down, not to mention the fact that he had to make sure he wouldn’t spill any water he was bringing back.

Luckily, Malin managed to climb back up without spilling much of the water. Alistair, who had been silently watching his progress in the well the whole time, helped to pull him out. Behind the furious glare he was giving Malin, there was a faint look of relief.

Without even stopping to catch his breath, Malin walked towards the thirsty feline and offered it the shoe full of water. It was hesitant at first, but after sensing the water, it quickly began drinking it, lapping it up quickly. Within seconds, all of the water in the shoe was gone.

The Purrloin’s condition had improved drastically after drinking the water, it no longer shuddered and its tongue was no longer lolling. It still seemed tired and hungry but no longer apparently dying. Malin was happy that he done some good for it. Alistair wasn’t.

“Come on.” He said gruffly as he walked away. “Let’s go.”

Malin followed him, taking one final look at the poor creature before putting on his wet shoe and leaving. The two boys walked back to the castle in silence. Alistair obviously did not approve of Malin’s actions at the well, and Malin didn’t have the heart to inquire about his hatred for the Purrloin. It wasn’t until they arrived at the castle gates that Alistair even said a word.

“If they ask you why we were late, it was because of the announcement at the village,” Alistair murmured to him. “There was a big commotion and we got lost.”

“Do you think it’ll be alright?” Malin asked. “The Monster, that is.”

Alistair grunted. “You only delayed its death, prolonged its suffering.”

Malin’s head bowed; he felt guilty for helping the Purrloin. Maybe if he had killed it then, it wouldn’t be suffering any longer.

Any other thoughts were cut off when the castle doors opened, allowing the boys access inside. They delivered the containers to the servants and headed off to the gardens to rest. Malin dipped his feet in a creek that ran straight through the garden while Alistair sat on a rock nearby, staring at the horizon. Off to the west, the sun was setting, bathing the entire landscape in its rich orange color. Alistair sat there, framed by the light, his brown hair and the dirty rags that made his clothing being tugged by the wind. Sitting there, he didn’t look like the slave he was; he looked like a young hopeful boy trying to find solace in the setting sun.

Malin sat there as the stream caressed his sore feet. A contended sigh escaped his lips as he sat there letting all the pain and fear drift away with the soft current. He would’ve sat there for hours, if a small purring sound hadn’t woken him from his trance.

Alistair got up hurriedly, looking around wildly. “What was that?”

Malin was dumbfounded. “Right there.” He said simply, pointing at the source of the noise.

Alistair turned to lay eyes on a creature, the same Purrloin Malin had saved before. Almost like a little boy, it shyly padded its way through the undergrowth. Sitting at the creek’s edge, it greedily lapped up the water, just like before.

The two boys stared at it in shock. “Is that the same one?” Alistair asked; the loathing that had existed before had vanished from his voice.

“I-I believe so,” Malin said. “The same Monster. It must have followed us after we left.”

Meanwhile, the Purrloin had had its fill of the water. It walked up to Malin’s side and sat next to him, gazing up at him with its deep green eyes, an expectant look was in them. Malin simply stared back it.

They sat there staring at each other, as if they were searching for some elusive truth in each other’s eyes.

Alistair sighed, “Come along, and bring that flea-bitten creature with you.”

Malin ripped his eyes away from the feline to give Alistair a questioning look. “Why?”

“Well, you can’t have that thing running about the castle, can you?” Alistair growled. “Hide it.”

Alistair walked off, leaving Malin to jog after him, the cat hot on his heels. He led them to a small grove, tucked away in the corner of the castle, away from all the precious trees of the garden and from prying eye.

“This is a spot where nobody comes.” Alistair explained. “The duke hasn’t planted anything here yet, and probably never will. As you can see, the soil isn’t fertile enough to sustain anything save local bush and grass.”

While speaking, Alistair pulled out a loaf of bread he had been saving and threw it to the cat. The Purrloin attacked the bread with the savagery of a predator, ripping into it and swallowing massive mouthfuls. Alistair watched it eat with a look of pure loathing on his face.

“Why are you doing this?” Malin asked suspiciously.

Alistair didn’t look at him, “Because I don’t want you to be whipped because you were caught smuggling animals into the castle, much less Monsters.”

“Malin, do you know the penalty for seeing a Monster and not killing it? Death by hanging.” Alistair said in an emotionless voice. “Not only did you refuse to walk away from it, but you helped it. And I don’t care what matter of creature it is, I won’t live to see my friend die.”

Malin remained silent. The two boys watched the Monster run and play in its small sanctuary, mixed feelings stirring in them.

END OF CHAPTER THREE