It Starts With A Melody

"All the evils in this world start with a melody." Barhed Joe woke up with a scream. The voice in his head was as real as it was mysterious. "Who? Where?" He struggled to catch his breath, clutching his chest. His room was dark. There should have been complete silence, but an open window let the wind rush in frantically, slamming the shutters furiously. Barhed made to close them. When his gaze fell outside the window, something in the night landscape of Brauso disturbed him. Black waves crashed against the wooden dock, thin vessels swayed with the wind as night birds fluttered nervously in agitated circles. But in the midst of this restlessness of nature, Barhed could hear the faint imprint of a melody in the air. It was the sound of a violin, and it was coming from the waves. By the time Barhed focused, the sound was drowned out. He closed the windows and drank some water from a pitcher by the fireplace. Such noise had certainly woken Ian up.

"Did you hear that?" Barhed said, entering the young man's room, but he saw his empty bed. "Ian?"

His son was missing. His bow was there, next to the quiver of arrows, but his long knife was missing. He searched the house and the yard and then began to wander around Brauso, looking for signs. The dark tower with its huge bell on top loomed before him, the harbor behind it was empty, and not a candle could be seen behind the windows of the houses. Brauso was a very small settlement to the west of Ayaton. Few residents chose to stay on that side of the island. It was low to the ground and very close to the peninsula they used to call the Cell, which everyone now called the kingdom of Orkandus. But in the old days, when Nedel gathered his dead armies under his giant cloak in the dead land of the Cell, many times his minions would slip away, walk the depths of the sea, and cross over. The tower in front, called the Stone Dragon, had been built as a first line of defense against such raids. But this reputation and history of Brauso had the effect of moving the majority of the island's inhabitants to the eastern part, onto the cliff.

Barhed had a terrible feeling. The voice he had heard in his head was unfamiliar and female. They had nothing to do with any violin; he and his son were hunters. They had spent all day in the woods, and Barhed knew both he and Ian were completely exhausted. There was no way Ian should have had the energy to leave in the middle of the night. Unless something horrible had happened.

Anxiety carved his belly and set his insides on fire. He gathered up his bow and sword, grabbed a sack of basic supplies and herbs, and began tracking. It was easy to track Ian's trail. The tracks were fresh and led clearly into the woods. Barhed looked at the tall trees of Spiritwood, took a deep breath, and ran into the darkness.

Ian's trail suddenly disappeared a few yards away. It was like the forest had swallowed him up. Something like that was unheard of. Barhed began to confuse things in his head. Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe the dream had shaken him. Something was definitely going on, something unnatural, but he wasn't thinking clearly. There was also a strange smell in the air, like something was burning. On his tongue, it tasted metallic and bitter. Barhed was a man of nature; the stories he had heard outside of it were limited, or rather, uninteresting. However, even if he had no tracks to follow, he had to search the forest, and the forest was vast. Hours later, he found himself going in circles. He was tired, and dawn was not far off. In his desperation, he kept going as long as his strength still held out. A little further on, he found a dead wolf. He knelt beside it; the creature had recently died, a cut in its belly was clearly responsible for its death. He looked left and right to avoid being caught off guard. He searched the ground and found tracks; they were tangled and quite a few. People had been through here. The trail, however, was not so clear. There was something like a crawl on one side, and on other pairs of tracks, there were other odd details. Barhed was too tired to think; he followed them blindly. He spotted blood pits near the tracks, which made it easier to orient himself. He continued on the same path until he came to an abrupt halt. There was something beyond the trees, behind a cluster of rocks. It was still. Barhed arched his back and drew his knife. "Ian?" he said softly, but he knew what was in front of him was something else. He saw a man with his back turned, holding a bloody, rusty pick in his right hand. His hand was odd, his skin had turned a dark blue color. When Barhed got a little closer, he noticed that some bits of flesh were missing, and his black, dirty hair was missing a large lock, exposing his skull. The rain began to fall heavily on the leaves, the silence of the night broken as if the great Sentinel had tuned in to what Barhed was seeing. A bolt of lightning tore the air, and at the same time, the creature turned towards him. Its face was half flesh and half bone. Its steps were strange and quick. Barred panicked.

The creature picked up the axe and brought it down with surprising dexterity towards Barhed, who narrowly deflected the blow and leaned backward, almost falling to the ground. The second strike hit him in the shoulder, gouging his skin and sending a spray of blood from a wound that, thankfully, wasn't too deep. Barhed screamed and took measured steps backward. The creature continued to chase him; Barhed's breaths were rapid, and he felt himself losing his balance. In a moment of desperation, he charged with his sword. He knew how to fight—the blow was aimed at the creature's sternum. The blade struck flesh and bone, but the creature swung the axe away and seemed to fight back with renewed conviction. The axe caught Barhed in the ribs, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. Barhed cried out and pressed his hand against the metal. The creature came closer, and Barred looked into its vacant eyes. An insect emerged from one of the creature's orifices, and horror overwhelmed him as he felt his insides churn. He managed to disengage from the weapon and fled east with what strength he had left. He didn't think he would make it to the main town of Ayaton, but he had nothing left to lose now.

Barhed arrived at the settlement around noon. His clothes were plastered to his body with blood and sweat. The stabs in his ribs and shoulder were agonizing, but the fear inside him was worse than all the pain. He was running a fever, and his eyes were watery. All the shapes he could see were losing their colors, and the corners seemed to blur, indicating that he had little time left before he collapsed, either unconscious or dead. Despite his age, his body was still hardened, and he managed to summon some remaining stamina. Two figures rushed toward him, leaving their fishpoles on the ground. The last sensation he felt was hands grabbing his elbows.

"Call the healer," Taros said, clearing a table in the tavern with a swift motion and placing Barhed on it.

"You're all right, Barhed."

"Tom, we need water and something to clean him up."

The few people present at the tavern assisted the fishermen in tending to Barhed. When the healer arrived, he cleaned the wounds, stitched the flesh, and applied a poultice to cover them. Barhed was comforted by the scent of the herbs and their coolness on his injuries. His color started to return a bit.

"Thank you, Alas," he said weakly.

"Don't talk," Alas replied. "Save your strength for now, and everything will be fine. We've managed to avoid infection."

"Ian," Barhed chanted.

"He's not here. Should I send for him?"

Barhed tried to get up, but two people stopped him.

"I have to find him, Alas. He's in danger."

Barhed's eyes were wet. Alas had never seen him like this before.

"Is he missing? Has something happened?"

Barhed didn't have much strength, but Alas could tell something was seriously wrong.

"Get me a stretcher and help me carry him!" Alas commanded. "You'll tell me everything in a moment."

"Nastal... Get Nastal," Barhed said weakly before losing consciousness. The men, along with Alas, carried Barhed to the healer's hut.

That evening, a heavy thunderstorm battered Ayaton. The thunder booms made Alas's roof creak. The fire burned brightly, and Nastal sat by the fireplace sipping a tea infused with healing herbs. Another cup had been prepared for Barhed.

"Slowly now," Nastal said softly as Barred began to wake.

"Nastal. Where am I? Ian..."

"You're in Alas's hut, my friend. Your injuries were not too severe, and Alas did an excellent job. But you must be careful—you are no longer a young man. Now tell me, what is the matter with Ian?"

"Damned if I know, Nastal," Barhed said, sitting up, his stitches pulling at him. "I woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone. He wouldn't leave without warning."

"Is it possible that the young man had an evening meeting? Young people do strange things."

"Nastal, we live in Brauso. At night, even the wolves avoid going out. There was something else."

"Something else?"

"Yes. In the forest, the creature I fought—the one that gave me these wounds—was like a skeleton. Its flesh had rotted away."

"It's certainly not the first time we've seen something like that in our area."

"No, it isn't. But this creature had power, Nastal. It wasn't just a mere undead. By sheer luck, I escaped. It was incredibly fast and strong."

"Do you think Ian encountered something similar?"

"Gods, I hope not! I can't be sure, but I won't rest until I find out. However, there's something else."

"Something else?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure how to explain it."

Nastal began to feel a familiar burning in his stomach. He sensed that something he knew was coming.

"There's something evil surrounding Brauso, Nastal. I don't know what it is or where it came from. I can feel it in my bones. It scares me, for Ian... for all of us."

As Barred spoke these words, his voice cracked. Nastal closed his eyes as his own fears were confirmed.

"You feel it too, then?"

Barhed frowned.

"Do you know what it is?"

"No, but I feel it too. For a long time now—perhaps even longer. You're right, Barhed. Something is happening on our island, and our queen is missing, at least for a while longer. Until then, it's up to me to investigate. Maybe it's time to finally get started."

Barhed attempted to stand, but his head felt light.

"I'll help you too. I want to assemble a team. I need to find Ian, Nastal. I can't delay any longer."

"If you leave now, you won't even make it out of the city."

"I'm not staying," Barhed insisted, and disobedience was already evident in his gaze.

"I would never ask you to stay, my friend. But you must rest first. It will also give me the time I need. Perhaps that is the will of the gods."