Faery Island

A Look behind the Veil

Chapter X – A Look behind the Veil

Rick

Rick didn’t sleep, he couldn’t. He was too afraid to close his eyes on something that may or may not even be there. He tossed, he turned, no matter what he could only see those mosquito like pesties and the man’s enormous nose that looked as if it could peck him to death.

His feet touched down on to the wooden floor without even thinking. He knew he couldn’t just sit there and wait, he had to make up his mind, and accept what he has been told. He always felt if he didn’t exactly belong, and now, he has an answer as to why.

He snuck out of the house being as quiet as possible, even though he was the only one there he felt as if someone from his family would pop up out of nowhere and ask where he was going.

The moon shinned down like a silent witness, just watching and leading the way for him as the sand between his toes turned in to leaves and sticks.

He began to jog, trying to use the filmliar actions to lead him to the correct spot. The high, tree arch that he had gone through just earlier that day became visible.

He stopped right outside of it. Unsure, now he studies it. It’s beautiful, he had never given something of nature such beauty and interest but something about it seemed off.

But yet, it drawled him in, willing him to pass through, and he did.

The scene didn’t change much, just a brighter, more vivid version of the land.

“I see you’ve come back.”  

Zelroth walked out in to the moonlight, this time visible for all he is, the pesties swarming around him like bugs attracted to light.

“You called me Ricalos, and a Changling. That means my memories have been blocked or erased, doesn’t it?” Rick’s eyes narrowed. “If I’m really what you say I am, you’d help me get my memories back and my brother and sister.”

Zelroth cocked his head sideways. “And what do I get?”

Rick gritted his teeth. “I get to help you with whatever and I stay, learn about all this.” He waved around.

Zelroth seemed to think it through, the possibilities and then smiled. “Fine, though understand if you ever try to do anything against me there will be consequences. I will be glad to have you back, friend.”  

Rick had to fight now to shiver and cringe away from the man, the faery he reminded himself.

“My memories, can you unlock them or something?” Even as he said it, it sounded ridicouls.

“There is a way, but I can only give you a glimpse.”

Before Rick knew it, Zelroth’s hands pressed against the sides of his head. Dark fog swarmed around him and twisted up his body. “You will remember, Ricalos, you must.”

His head began to spin, Zelroth’s face blurred and his eyes rolled to the back of his skull, the inky fog slinging in to his mind, touching parts that he didn’t know existed.

His vision snapped back, without warning he could see, though he was not in the woods but a dark hallway, black walls and arches curved around to the ceiling, the floor dark brown like harden lava.

“Ricalos!” A filmliar voice shouted, like from a dream. His body responded automatically without his consent. He felt numb and out of control.

Around the corner, a tall, lean young man stomped in to sight. He wore black under clothes and leather like from some kind of medieval show. His shaggy black hair curled around his pointed tan ears, and the most disturbing part was his maddening bright blue eyes and the bluish fog that followed him like a puppy on a leash.

“Yes, my king?”

“What is this?” He shoved a yellow piece of crumbled paper, a painting of an island stood alone in the middle of it, the charcoal sketching of the ocean smeared. He had seen it hundreds times before, but before Damon’s rule of the kingdom.

“It’s your father’s.” Ricalos replied dually, his voice still harsh from shadowy darkness he overcame not long ago.

“I know that,” the king hissed. “It’s the island in the ocean by the High Kingdom, why was my father so interested with the island? I’ve found more of these.”

Ricalos locked his jaw tightly and starred at the man’s ears, avoiding his eyes. “I believe we have some things to discuss. May we do this in private sir?”

The king nodded and clenched his fist around the paper and marched away. Ricalos followed behind silently, going over everything he could remember of his old master. The one that had turned him over to darkness, in to a shadow. He wasn’t like the other Shadows, brainless and blood thirsty. Somehow, with ease he transitioned in to a humanoid form again, one of the first out of the knights.

The Kings study was in disarray. Drawings and scrolls were thrown amidst the place and the large window gave him a view of the moons that hung in the sky.

“What was wrong with my father?” Damon whispered his voice still strong, powerful and harsh.

“He was possessed by Darkness himself. There is Light, and there is Darkness. It’s how all that he did was possible, a new kingdom, and a new race.” Ricalos relied the imagines of his master talking to the shadows in the corner. Violently sketching the island and leaving black smears all of the canvas. His master bleeding from the ears murming to himself.

“And that’s why the blood of the spirit had weakened him? Cause they are something gifted by Light?” Damon shoved the material off his desk as Ricalos answered. “It was in plain sight and we missed the clues in till now.” He shook his head, the muscles in his arm trembling.

A soft knock echoed from the study’s door. A pale, small, light blond head peeked from behind it. He was dressed in light blue night clothes, his eyes like his father’s sleepy and tired.

The king hadn’t noticed his son at the door. “Do you think it’ll come after me too?”

Ricalos looked the boy up and down; the young boy was practically asleep on his feet. A black mark visible underneath the boy’s ear curved under and back. “No.” Ricalos answered.

The boy awoken then by the unfilmliar voice. He looked at Ricalos and then back at Damon. “Dad?”

“Go back to bed, Pyry.”