FARHAYVEN: VENGEANCE Page 3

  “You fought with this sword during the Third Liberation War 20 years ago, didn’t you? That’s when the king granted you this piece of land, didn’t he? He granted it to you for your bravery in that war, am I right, granddad?” said Lance as he turned back to give the sword another longing stare.

  “Yes, that’s right. But there’ll be no war stories for you tonight, young Lance, for war is an evil undertaking that should not be glorified but to be conducted purely out of the necessity of self-protection; and it would be unwise of me to encourage a war mongering nature in you,” stressed the old man.

  “Yes, granddad,” surrendered Lance, though secretly he imagined wielding his grandfather’s sword and heading into a glorious battle, leading an army of thousands. ‘Recavian Lance Arman!’ thought Lance to himself and he decided that he liked the sound of it.

  The darkness of night had blanketed this simple farm. Lance’s father headed toward the tool shed, holding a few farming tools in both his hands. Dirt, soil and sweat covered both his face and body. He felt tired, but somewhat satisfied with a good day’s work. But most importantly, he felt a great emptiness in his stomach and the smell of his wife’s cooking seemed to have turned it into a gigantic void. He was tempted to just drop all the tools he was carrying and go straight to dinner. But what kind of an example would he be setting for his son? He steadied himself and forced his way through the mud toward the little wooden shed. He felt that being a husband was not easy and being a father was so much more difficult. There were so many things for him to think of and to worry about. But on the positive side, since the drought was gone, soon he would have crops to harvest. Then maybe he could raise enough money to send Lance to school in Greentown. Yes, he needed to make sure that his son got a good education! He felt stupid to have wasted so much money on gambling in the past, but no more! No more! Every single coin that he could save was going to Lance’s and Tulip’s education.

  Silence takes hold of this simple farm. An eerie feeling begins to take control of Lance’s father. A sudden fluttering sound in the distant darkness behind him draws his attention. He turns around, but sees nothing. Except for the sickle he was carrying, he drops all the other farming equipment and quickens his pace to the house. Another fluttering sound breaks the eerie silence, this time from above. Looking up, he sees nothing but the gentle sparkling of the stars. Yet something is not right! He feels it in his inner core. Though the night is cool, beads of sweat begins to appear throughout his body. His quickened pace buries his feet deep into the mud with each step.

  Slash! He feels it, the searing sharp pain across his back. It is so intense it brings him to his knees. His mouth opens wide, but no voice can be heard. Then he sees it, the face of his doom. It is a demon’s face, shaped like that of a large praying mantis. Its two bulging blood-red eyes and its slim, triangular jaw brings so much paralysing fear to the man that it overshadows the pain in his back. The black slit in the middle of its forehead begins to open. It starts to glow dark red and the man begins to feel pain of a different kind. It is the pain of a million burning needles constantly stabbing every nerve in his body. He loses his senses. Now he sees nothing, hears nothing, tastes nothing and smells nothing; nothing but the consuming pain that is penetrating deep into his very own soul. Then it stops. And there is nothing. Everything is a total void. Not a single sight, sound, taste, smell, or feeling exists. There is no breath. There is no heartbeat. There is no life.

  The door of the house swings open ever so gently. A cold draft sweeps into the living room, prompting the old man to get up and walk towards the door to shut it so that it does not trigger his rheumatism. He freezes as he comes face to face with the evil insect-like face of the demon. The old man stares at it disbelievingly, taking in all of its unnatural features. It looks like a human-sized praying mantis, except for its torso, which looks human. It has a pair of huge, strong arms which seems human-like at the upper torso but changes gradually towards the end into long, multi segmented, spiked forelegs. Extending from its lower torso are two pairs of long, spiked, insect-like legs. Its stomach extends to the back and is shaped like the abdomen of a praying mantis. Its skin is hard and green in colour and features many pores from which slime oozes out. The demon’s eyes looked the most unnatural of all its features. The pair of bulging, blood-red, oval shaped eyes radiates the aura of pure evil.

  The old man begins to tremble at the sight of this unnatural creature, despite his many experiences in battles and wars. The demon stabs the old man in the right shoulder with its left foreleg. The old man draws in a soft and tortured breath as a sharp pain overcomes his senses. Blood sprays out from the wound. A loud and fearful scream breaks the silence, courtesy of Lance’s sister, Tulip. She is horrified by what she has just seen. Lance grabs his grandfather’s sword. Taking a deep breath, he draws the sword from its scabbard, runs to the demon’s left flank and cuts down on the demon’s unnatural left foreleg. The foreleg is severed, and the old man collapses to the ground with it still impaled in him. As Lance raises the sword overhead to cut down on the demon’s head, the demon’s arm stump grows back almost instantaneously, and the demon slaps Lance hard across the face with it. Lance goes crashing into the wall from the strength of the slap.

  Lance’s mother emerges from the kitchen with a cleaver. A black slit forms on the demon’s forehead and it discharges a Dark Orb straight into her right shoulder. She screams in pain as the orb bursts through her body and then she falls helplessly to the ground. Tulip’s screams go silent. Her mouth is opened but no voice can be heard. There are just tears and the feeling of shock. The demon then picks up the little girl and stares at her straight in the eye. The black slit on its forehead begins to glow dark red. A flow of pure, bright light emanates from her eyes and flows steadily into this evil feature on the demon’s forehead. Lance regains his composure only to see the demon draining the soul from his sister’s body, but before he can do anything, he feels a force pushing him towards the nearest window. He turns around to see that it is his grandfather. Although bleeding profusely, the old man gives one hard final shove and pushes Lance out the window. Lance lands hard on his side on the outside of the window.

  “Run! Run away! ” commands the old man.

  “But granddad! I …,” Lance has just gotten up when his grandfather’s punch crashes into his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground unconscious.

  The old man grabs his sword off the floor with his left hand.

  “Leave my granddaughter alone, you evil defilement of nature!” shouts the old man, his body swaying from side to side; revealing his severely weakened condition.

  “Or what? As if you can make me, hah! You and that little toothpick of yours! Your time is over, old man. When I kill you I’ll be doing you a great service,” ridicules the demon.

  With a sudden burst of energy, the old man dashes toward the demon and swings his sword horizontally, cutting across the demon’s eyes. An eerie and monstrous scream vibrates throughout the entire house as the demon writhes in pain. Pulling his sword upwards for a follow up attack, the old man cuts down diagonally and slices off a portion of the demon’s jaw. The demon stumbles backwards while screaming out in agony. The old man steadies himself, and then charges in to stab at the demon’s heart, but suddenly, he stiffens as a Dark Orb slams into his own heart. He collapses backwards to the ground, his sword still held firmly in his grasp. A single tear drips from one of his eyes.

  Lance’s mother sits on the floor. Her right shoulder bleeds profusely. She cries, not due to the pain, but due to sorrow, loss and hopelessness. The demon approaches her and offers her a gentle smile. She almost welcomes it. She nods her head and composes herself. The demon bends down and drains her soul of its energy. There is no scream. There is no resistance. There is no hope. She is gone.

  At first there was the sense of dryness in his mouth and the throat. Then came the pain in his jaw. After that came the heavy sinking feeling in his heart. Lance wished that it was all a
nightmare, just a horrible imagination of the mind. But he knew that it was all real. The stench of rot was proof that it was real. Slowly, he opened his eyes. His vision was a blur as tears had welled up in his eyes. As the tears flowed steadily in streams down his cheeks, his vision cleared.

  He picked himself up slowly and took a good look around. The sun was now directly overhead and the weather was warm, as opposed to the feeling in his heart. He walked into the building that was once his happy home, but knew instantly what to expect. The sight of his sister, whose eyes were white and sunken, was the first to stab his heart. Her skin was shrivelled like an old lady. Dried blood had congealed at an open wound around her neck. The demon had apparently drunk her blood after it had drained her soul. Lying next to his sister was his grandfather, stiffened and still clutching his sword. He knew his grandfather went down fighting as a piece of the evilness that had attacked them the night before was lying on the floor beside him. The body of his mother sat stiffly a few paces away, the expression of sorrow and despair carved permanently on her shrivelled face.

  Lance turned around and headed out to the field. He had not bothered to hope. Actually, he had not dared to hope. But he wanted to be sure. He needed to be sure! He had not gone more than a few paces before his suspicion was confirmed. The corpse of his father was being feasted on by a few vultures. They had pecked his eyes out and the rest of his lifeless body was full of rips and cuts. Flies were swarming all over the body and the first of the maggots were joining in the feast. There was not much for Lance to do now except the obvious.

  Lance went back into the house and gathered what little belongings he had, which included a small pot, two loafs of bread, some clothes, a few coins and a hunter’s knife, and bundled them into a large piece of red cloth. He chose this colour to remind him of the blood that had been spilt the night before, so that he would never forget the horrendous fate that had befallen his family. Tying the cloth neatly at both ends with a length of thick rope and slinging it across his left shoulder, he proceeded to retrieve the sword from his dead grandfather’s right hand. It took Lance a tremendous effort to overcome the stiffened fingers that held the sword. Then he sheathed the sword in its scabbard and tucked the scabbard on the belt on his waist. He then picked up the severed arm of the demon and bundled it with another cloth, this one of the colour green, and bundling it, slung it over his right shoulder. Stepping outside the house, he went straight to the tool shed. There he took a wooden bucket and poured oil into it from a large earthen jug. He then dipped a wooden torch into the bucket of oil. Then he took the bucket of oil, the torch and also a flint rod. He went back into his house, and with a final glance at the bodies of his dead family, poured oil all over them. He then struck the flint rod with his hunter’s knife and ignited the torch; and with it, set fired to the oil. Columns of thick black smoke rose to the ceiling as the flames spread all over the dead bodies. The flames spread to engulf the entire house. But Lance was not concerned. This house meant nothing to him anymore, except to remind him of the extreme hollowness in his heart.

  Lance took the oil bucket and the torch, and went out to the field where his father lay. The buffalo grazed the grass lazily as it usually did. A gentle breeze blew, but it did not console him. The vultures flew off as he approached. He poured the remnants of the oil that was in the bucket onto his father’s body. The flies swarmed around him. He then set his father’s oil-soaked body alight. As the cleansing flames roared into existence, the flies abandoned the hollow shell that was once his father. He stood there for hours, watching his father’s body burn to ashes. The sun was setting west of this simple farm, unaffected by the events of the night before. Lance did not know what to do next. His eyes were already dry, his tears totally drained. And there he stood, staring into the ashes. But one thing Lance did decide upon. He vowed for vengeance!

  Many had gathered at Greentown’s town hall in the early morning of the 15th Day of First Month of Wet Season. The townsfolk sat themselves in rows of chairs and divided these rows into two columns positioned on either side of an aisle. The aisle extended from the main entrance of the building to a slightly raised platform at the opposite end where the mayor and the town council members were seated. The growing noise of chatter was only matched by the increasing heat and stuffiness.

  The town mayor, a man of the age 60, decided that it was time to start the meeting. He cleared his throat and spoke.

  “Order! Order! This meeting will now come into session! As you all know and are aware of, our town is now facing the problem of demon attacks,” he said.

  “Problem!? Problem!? This, sir, isn’t a problem; it’s a catastrophe!” objected one of the citizens from the crowd.

  The crowd began their loud chatter once again.

  “Order! Order! All right then, our town is now facing the catastrophe of demon attacks. Are you satisfied!?” conceded the mayor.

  The citizen nodded his head in satisfaction. The crowd clapped their hands in support of him.

  The mayor shook his head. He had wanted to tone the problem down, so as to not create fear and panic. But it seemed his fellow citizens wanted the truth, instead of comfort. As such, he decided to give it to them.

  “Three families have been attacked so far, namely the Arman family of Sunbless Village, the Dalner family of Creekpass Village and the Wallen family who resides right here in our town. According to our investigations, these attacks are from one demon alone. The town council and I have been discussing the issue for several days but we were unable to come up with a suitable solution, hence the purpose of this meeting. I now open this discussion to the floor,” he continued.

  “I say we fight it! We could form a group to patrol the town and the villages; and when we come in contact with it, we find a way to bait it, trap it and kill it,” said a man from the crowd.

  “Easier said than done. Demons aren’t like animals. They’re far more intelligent and many a hundred times more deadlier. Fighting demons isn’t our speciality. Most of us are just simple farmers or traders. We’re not soldiers nor are we warriors. What do we know about fighting demons?” objected another.

  “What do you intend to do then? Wait and do nothing while this demon devours us for its breakfast, lunch and dinner? Or maybe you prefer to be its supper!?” retorted the first man angrily.

  The crowd broke into a loud uproar. Some were pointing fingers at either the first or second man and made accusations at them.

  The mayor shouted for order. He had to do so many times just to be heard. It was a while before the crowd finally settled down. But finally, they did.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. All I’m saying is that we should leave this type of work to the experts. There are Elementhars who can kill this demon for us. They are specially trained for this task and therefore are able to perform it better than any of us possibly could,” explained the second man.

  “There’s no need for forming a fighting mob or hiring Elementhars, for that matter. As I come from a very influential bloodline and have relatives all over the kingdom, I can tell you for certain this demon will be gone within a week. As with the experience of most of my relatives, demons don’t stay in a certain place for long. They’re normally just passing through. They’ll stay a week or two at best, and then they’ll leave,” said a well-dressed council member, of the age 40.

  The crowd burst out in loud chatter once again. A large number of them shook their head in disagreement.

  The mayor turned to look at the council member.

  “Councilman Sellon, are you absolutely sure of this?” questioned the mayor.

  “Absolutely, Mayor Conell! Without a doubt! I’d even stake my reputation on it!” replied Councilman Sellon.

  “That’s insane!” exclaimed both the first and second man in harmony.

  “How many of us will be killed before it moves along?” questioned the first man.

  “Whose family will die next? And whose family will die after that? How ma
ny families will be slaughtered before this creature finally decides to move along!?” added the second man.

  The crowd clapped their hands loudly, clearly showing their support for the last two speakers.

  Councilman Sellon stood up and spoke out loud.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of Greentown, consider this for a moment. If we try to fight this demon ourselves, who knows how many of us will be hurt or killed? 20, or maybe 30 of us? And if we hire Elementhars, it might provoke the demon to stay longer and kill all of us as punishment, which would be even worse! My way, as you can clearly see, is the best option! At most two more families would be sacrificed, but what are two families over the wellbeing, indeed the very survival of the entire town? I, Tide Sellon, hereby stake my honour and reputation that these demon attacks will cease within one week from now without us doing anything about it,” he insisted.

  The crowd, except for the first and second man, seemed to nod their heads in agreement. Even Mayor Conell gave a gentle nod in silent agreement. A little smile of satisfaction showed on Councilman Sellon’s face.

  A young man, of the age 13, stood up and approached the platform. He threw a bundle on the mayor’s table. The bundle was wrapped in green cloth. Everyone became silent. The mayor opened the bundle and found a demon’s severed arm, much to everyone’s horror. The young man then spoke in a loud voice.