Chronicles of Allannia: King Netacari

Splitting Up

I dragged my finger tip in the dust on the board, every stroke ironically making my stomach groan in pain as images of poorly drawn food came into view. Bread, wine, meat, and cheese danced from the wood before my eyes, taunting me mercilessly. I hastily threw the board back to its place where more dust could gather on it hoping that the dust would erase the food as time faded the pains of hunger. When did I eat last? Drink? I licked my lips and swore that it was not my tongue but a cat's that rubbed against my chapped skin. I could taste the slight hint of blood on my tongue.

I looked at my legs, my weak, pathetic, useless legs and began pounding my fists into them. Not that it did much good, the old medicine woman did not hold back the truth. They would never feel anything again. I could never walk again. Never run, never jump, never ride, nothing. I was rendered useless thanks to them. My fists slowed and eventually stopped as the memory played in my mind. I lost count of how often it did and the questions of 'what if' echoed along with it.

I pulled my eyes away from my legs. Behind the smoky haze in the house, I could barely make out the silhouette of my father. Spinning, spinning, always spinning at the wheel with the flax tow he gathered...or more like destroyed for. Our home was quickly losing any kind of comfortable sitting. Even the bed seemed less fluffy, although I'm sure that it's mostly caused by my sitting here day after day.

"Father," my words could barely make it out past a whisper, the smallest vibration of them tickling my throat and caused me to cough for air. "Water."

I could hear the spinning wheel come to a stop and the shuffling of my father's feet. The clanking of a ladle to a pot told me my father went out at some point to gather snow. Slowly, he became clearer as he drew closer to me, bowl in hand. I gratefully took the bowl and began to sip at the snow water. It was still warm going down and soothed the aches from the coughing.

"Do you need something to eat, son?" My father took the bowl from my outstretched hand. His hand was so pale and thin, his veins popped out of it like a hill on the horizon. I could remember when that hand was thick and strong. "I might be able to scrounge up something."

I nodded, "Please. Where's mother? She wasn't here when I awoke."

"She left just before dawn to the king's castle." He sifted through one basket after another. The only thing greeting him was emptiness and dirt.

He sank to the floor, his shoulders slumped and stared blankly at the empty baskets with vacant and dreary eyes. He shook his head, shaking himself out of a trance, in a soft voice said, "Going to see if there's any food from the shed."

I could only stare at him, too weak to move or speak. I watched as he slowly got up, stumbled a bit, and made his way out the door. I tried to go back to sleep to conserve whatever energy I had left. The sound of the door creaking open roused me from sleep as my father walked in. I guess I only slept a few minutes at the most, maybe more. He looked at me with those same sad dreary eyes as he had with the baskets.

"All we have left is a potato for the hamlet," sighing and looking down at the ground. "I brought home our slice, the others took their portions." He looked up at me with a small smile. "This means we'll live through tonight," and made his way to the fire to try and warm it up a bit. The only thing I could do was stare at him, the snow water only quenched my thirst and eased my empty belly, but did nothing for my lack of energy.

After warming it up a bit he brought me a potato slice, I reached up slowly to grab it and began eating it while father began eating the other slice. It was very bitter, hard, and still quite cold but my body seemed to rejoice in this small moment of happiness. Glancing over at my father he had already finished it and slowly made his way back to spinning.

It wasn't long before several knocks came to the door. My father once again got up and made his way weakly to the door. It was one of the neighbors, Niclas, and his wife, Wyn. My father greeted and gestured them inside. They sat on the floor looking just as weak but quickly began talking.

Wyn looked at me with eyes of pity and asked, "How are you holding up?"

Gaining the strength to speak, I replied hoarsely, "I'm here."

Wyn nodded and turned her attention to father, "We bring bad news I'm afraid, Cedric."

"When isn't it bad news?" He chuckled softly.

They both looked a little uneasy. Niclas sighed, "Osian was raided by bandits. Apparently they failed to meet their protection taxes, few of the villagers were spared but the church was destroyed and the priest killed. The bandits ransacked what they could of value to collect payment. There are no more villages in this kingdom now. I'm afraid our little hamlet will be next to fall. Already the many other hamlets have turned into nothing but half burned homes and dead fields. I say we relocate to the next hamlet, it's about a half a day's ride and I hear they have more supplies. In this winter we could all die soon if we're not raided before then. We're just not safe here."

"I'm sorry but it's not worth the risk, what if they're also wiped out, we'd die. We're established here right now. You can go on if you want." My father shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What would you do if we did? We depend on each other, you'd die here alone." Wyn pleaded.

"The Scurlock's will still be here, we'll have them"

"They've agreed to come with us." She argued while Niclas shook his head in his hand in displeasure.

"What will we do with Netacari? My boy will die out there in the cold, he's weaker than any of us." My father gestured towards me.

They both let out a sigh and stood up, "We're going, with or without you. We all agree we'll die here if we can't pay this moon's taxes. We at least hope have better luck over there. We'd like for you to come with us but if you choose not to we'll have no choice but to leave you behind. Please come with us."

"I just can't, it's too risky, my boy may not survive the trip and we don't even know much about the other hamlet. How do you know they're not pillaged already or burned to the ground?"

"We don't, but we know this hamlet's going to cease to exist soon along with everyone in it."

Father gave off a long sigh, "This is one of few hamlets near a black dome, you'd be leaving what is assumed to be a token of luck."

"Come now Cedric, nobody knows what the black domes are but they surely aren't any kind of good luck! If anything they're a token of bad luck. I didn't think you still bought into all that superstition." Niclas laughed.

"I wish everyone good luck then, I'm going to have to decline but we'll do our best here, we'll hold on. Go on, I'm sure there's a large pot of food just waitin' over there for you cooked up by a most skillful cook."

"Good luck then my friend, hope we see each other again." Niclas sighed and gripped my father's arm in farewell as Wyn made her way towards me. She took off her scarf and wrapped it around my neck before giving me a small hug. As the door closed behind them, a heavy lump formed deep in my belly. Something told me, this would be the last I'd see of them.