Roots - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: A Sight

They resumed their conversation about whether a bee sting or a dragon beetle bite stung worse, debating the swelling versus the bruise and the tingling versus the burn. Muren remained neutral, backing up Lena then Alana, switching back and forth as to keep him in both favor.
“Lena, you’ve never even been stung by one!”
“Well neither have you!”
“Girls, girls, I’m sure you’ve both been stung.”
As Aldon hid in his room, a wet cloth wiping the blood from his smeared face, he ignored the new pain of old betrayal. They chatted endlessly about unimportant matters no matter how miniscule and prattled on and on, the very sight of Aldon wiped from their minds. Muren sat in his chair, laughing heartily at every sour joke they made and smiling unrelentingly at every remark and story. His every thought was wrapped around his precious daughters at each moment and had hardly recognized the beat-up-lookin’-boy at the door.
The sisters in kind literally hadn’t recognized Aldon as he had grown several inches since their departure and had cut his hair to jaw level. Alas, they were dim-witted girls and having no thought process higher than what was happening at the moment, kept their “papaw” happy with chit-chat.
Aldon however, knew the boy all too well and had to try to forget him. No matter how hard he tried though the boy continued to haunt him. He saw him in his room staring back at him with that same hate ridden expression. He saw the boy scowling at him like he had just struck his mother. And he did hate this boy. And the boy hated him in kind. He hated himself for being himself. For as long as he had existed he hated himself for what he was. He knew deep inside he would never belong and had to give up trying, but his mind was never set. He had no future path in mind nor a place to go. He had nothing. All he could be thankful for was that he had had nothing to lose when he fell.
He watched the boy smiling at him, his perfect white teeth and flowing hair. Smooth angular features and eyes as green as the fields he worked. High cheekbones and thin almost feline features, pale skin like a cold, heartless statue.
He watched the boy’s fist fly at him.
The mirror shattered into a thousand sparkling diamonds, fluttering into space. The boy’s face fell as it disappeared piece by piece into oblivion. The shards splintered and twirled in the air as they fell slowly, so slowly, Aldon thought. He watched his tiny reflection in every star and grimaced as he struggled to come to terms with the boy.
With himself.
He paused then and listened, expecting the conversation gone as they would come to inspect the commotion. But no one came. No one entered his room. No one saw him on his knees, face in his hands, surrounded by a graveyard of glass. No one saw how quickly he had dropped from his high to scorning himself for living.
He threw his hands up and roared at the top of his lungs, throat straining and neck quivering with the force in which he bellowed. But nothing came out. He fell back, lying in the glass, stunned. He searched with his eyes but found himself petrified, unable to move. He glanced around the room and found nothing. His limbs were stricken dumb and his mind fogged. He was slowly growing tired and more tired and didn’t know why. He knew he was on the floor but felt as if he were moving.
Aldon struggled against the immense weight of his droopy eyelids and managed to pry them open at last.
A man was carrying him.
A tall, thin man with flowing white hair and flawless skin, sharp angular features and piercing green eyes. His face was decidedly cat like and as skin as pale as paper, even whiter than Aldon believed himself to be. The man walked as if he was standing still but Aldon saw everything behind them moving quickly. He looked back to the man’s features and marveled at how magnificent he looked. He was like him.
The mysterious man looked at him then and smiled. Aldon tried to smile back but didn’t know if he managed to. He was still frozen within himself. It was then the man changed. His features and face remained the same but at the same time completely different. His eyes had become wild, frenzied and burning with such intensity Aldon had to look away. His face was twisted into the most horrible scowl he had ever seen, wrinkled over his nose and brow, his lips pulled back and white teeth bared. The man seemed far away then, Aldon suddenly on the ground several yards away and watched as the man dropped his sword and vanished among a terrible storm of lightning and wind. Aldon felt himself being batted around by the gales and terrified of the bolts and ominous clouds above. Then the ground beneath him exploded into a wave of dirt and grass, small tendrils of electricity jumping to and fro within it.
* * *
Aldon sat up immediately, gasping and covered in sweat. His face was torn in anguish and a cry broke through his clenched teeth. He was still lying in the glass, the wooden floor of his room beneath him. Aldon rubbed his hands quickly all around him to put out the fire and suddenly leapt to his feet. He had numerous cuts about him and his knuckles were busted, several slivers of glass imbedded in them. He ripped his clothes off, his slim frame littered with pieces of glass that fell to the floor as he healed, he pretended to not notice, and pulled on a new pair of black trousers and green tunic. He laced his padded leather boots and made sure they were secure before stepping outside.
It all seemed so real, like I could have been there.
He entered the room and watched in silence as the girls and Muren took no notice of him and continued to talk in an endless drone that Aldon ignored angrily. He cared not when the rolls were gone and the milk he had just squeezed free and cleaned was drank. He ignored his shirts now tattered and stained appearance and the absence of his wood chip. He cleared his mind of such things and left out the front door, passing his family without a word.
He walked quickly outside and realized it was nearly dusk. He cursed and ran up the path, moving as fast as he could. He ran up the hill from his home, quick and silent, determined. He threw his head down against the wind as he peaked the hill and ran into something. He stumbled backward from the force in which he hit the unmoving object.
“Careful there, fellow.” A familiar bass murmured. “Never know where you might end up if you don’t watch where your feet carry you.” He said as he pulled Aldon to his feet. Aldon dropped his eyes embarrassed and changed the subject quickly.
“What’re you doing here?” He said a little too fast and hoped he didn’t come off rude. He had always like Garenford.
“Oh just coming to say hello to your sisters. Never hurts to be polite you know.”
“No, but being around them for too long will.”
Garenford laughed then and clasped Aldon’s shoulder as he brought him down the hill beside him. They walked together and talked as old friends often do. Their age difference had never seemed to bother the old man and Aldon had soon gotten over it as child. They reached the bottom of the hill and strolled across the yard slowly.
“So, if I may,” Garenford began, “Where is it you were off to in such a rush?” His eyebrows rose in curiosity and his mouth twisted downward. Aldon sucked in a breath and decided to tell him.
He’s been right about everything so far.
“I was going to fight someone.”
“Why?” Garenford mused.
Aldon recounted to him everything that had passed between him and the boy, but decided to leave out his encounter with himself. He finished after several minutes and concluded without resolution of his problems.
Garenford pondered this after a short while and sat down in a wooden chair on the front porch. He stretched his long legs out and ruffled his long cloak; Aldon sat across from him and scratched his head. Several shards of glass fell from his hair.
“Why is it you are not wearing your hat?” He asked shortly. Aldon just realized this as well and had to guess of his hat’s whereabouts.
“I guess I lost it in the fight.” He said sheepishly and dropped his head to the table. Garenford chuckled lowly and lit his pipe. He puffed on it in deep thought without a word for several minutes. Nearly a half hour had passed and still not a word had been spoken. It was clear night now and the crickets chirped loudly in unison and the wind whistled around the struts of the house’s roof. The sky was pitch black and not a single star shone through; the moon hidden now behind the veil of darkness. It had been a long time since the land had seen a night this impenetrable and it bothered Garenford greatly.
“Dark deeds pass tonight. You should take care to avoid such matters until the moon is full. Goodnight.” Aldon looked up to see Garenford was already gone, nowhere to be seen.
“Wait, you didn’t help me yet!” He cried out into the night. Whether it was the dark that hid the old one or he had truly disappeared, is not important. Regardless of either option, Garenford didn’t reply and Aldon was left to his lonesome with only more questions.
Dark deeds? What is that old coot talking about? And when have I ever been involved in such matters?
Aldon sullenly returned to his room and ignored the blank expressions as he passed. He shut his door behind him and locked it swiftly, knowing he would be responsible for something once they were gone. He thought back to Garenford’s words and grew irritated at he realized it was merely a distraction to keep him from fighting the boy. He remembered also that Garenford had come with a purpose.
Humph, didn’t even come in.
Aldon undressed slowly and lay in bed, pulling his blanket over him and covering his head. He cowered against the dark thoughts of today and instead tried to focus on what he had seen.
That man. He was different but the same. He was just like me, an..
He couldn’t say the word and instead gripped his long, pointed ears and fell into a troubled sleep. He dreamed of a great battle between creatures he had only heard of and men in shining armor. He imagined the black blood loosed by sword and ax and heard the humming of arrows volleying on their ranks. Cries and roars battled one another among the fields of death and carnage. Fire cracked and bones crunched on the great wasted plains and the smell of burning flesh hung heavy in the air like smoke.
He saw the man again, atop a cliff in magnificent armor like dragon scale, and couldn’t help but yearn for such an experience. His sword flashed and a creature fell dead at his feet, always the same. But Aldon felt something, a change. Some shift in a force he could not explain. He looked about and saw a woman, a beautiful woman just like the man, who cried and vanished behind him like a wisp of smoke. The man turned to where she had been only a second before and dropped his sword.
Then the mountain exploded and engulfed the armies in flames and rock.