Sunday, May 23, 2010


Standing in the courtyard of the trading post, listening to Oleg speak of their problems with the bandits, had stirred something in the boy that the woodling had not seen in a long long time. Granted there was some rage, still to be expected considering the boy’s upbringing but there was also that sense of determination and steely will that the woodling knew ran through the boy’s core. He would need it for the work that was to be done. Killing had a way of wearing on the soul and it still remained to be seen if the boy’s could be salvaged.

In front of his new companions the boy wore the mask of a stoic warrior. The boy so resembled his father at times, the woodling thought to himself. But, at night, alone in the dark the dreams had come and the frightened animal which had nearly consumed the child years before reared it’s cowardly head once more...

No one had noticed Jonah slip away, already the boy was a master of stealth his small stature and years of “training” by his grandfather had taught him to move silently and invisibly. Soon his “other” talents would begin to manifest as well, for better, or far more probably, for worst. Slipping past his companions was an easy feat for the child and the woodling waited at the gate for his young ward to arrive...

“So just like that eh? Leavin’ in the middle of the night? Leavin’ the lady and the others to their fate?” The woodling shook his head in anger, though he felt nothing but sorrow in his heart.

“Frederick!” the boy almost collapsed in fright, his fear turning to dark anger, “you scared me!”

“I scared you!!!” the woodling chastised, “I scared you! I am the one makin’ ya run of like a daft coward am I? Tail tucked between yer legs like a yeller dawg!! If only your father could see ya now!”

“My father left me!” the boy sobbed, nearly breaking the woodling’s heart... “with HIM!!!” He was weeping now, fear and shame racking his frail body. “I can’t do it Frederick...” the boy’s eyes lit up... as he looked at the woodling.... “You can Frederick... like before.... make me sleep...”

The woodling’s heart grew icy... to feel alive again!!! To breathe the sweet air, to fight as a warrior!! To wield the sleeping giant in the boy as it should be wielded!! The woodling calmed himself, he couldn’t do it again. He didn’t know if he would be able to let it all go. “No... my Lord... it is not my place. You must learn... you must fight.”

“Please Frederick!!! I will learn.. I will! I just can’t... not now.. not yet... please this will be the last time I swear!” The boy was nearly frantic awash in panic.

In the end it was the love of the boy which won him over, at least that’s what Frederick tried to tell himself. “Then sleep my young Prince, and once it is all over I shall awaken you.”

Frederick stood there in the night clasping onto the dead form of Rickers, his heart full of relief, before he collapsed onto the ground, convulsing. Foam started to come from his mouth, his hands wailed frantically at his sides clawing at creatures only he could see. Then stillness and quiet until the boy picked himself slowly off the ground. Picking up the rat in his hands, petting it soothingly laughter began to come from the boy... joyful, maniacal laughter... not the laughter of a boy ... but rather reminiscent of a demon.

The creature walked back to where the boy had risen and slipped back into bed, closing its eyes, drinking in the sensations of life, waiting for the morning where it would wash the ground from whence it came with the blood of the living.

It could hardly wait.

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