Fractured Past (A Talnarin Novel Book 1)

by D. E. Chapman

  I make it to the cliff face at a much slower pace. With the night still silent—not even chirping or rustling in the forest—I relax and settle in for the night.

  I ponder over my decision to give the children food. What I just did could turn out terribly. If the villagers find the stash before the children finish, they could get hurt—or worse. I push those thoughts from my mind. It won’t do any good to dwell on what might happen.

  Besides, I had no other options. I hate leaving them, there but what other choice do I have? I can’t take them with me. I can hardly care for myself out here. How would I be able to care for two starving children. There was nothing more I could do for them.

  Perhaps there will come a day when I can come back for them. When I am better off, I can come back and bring them to another home where someone will care for them as they should. Maybe if I tell someone in Joult, they can send a small group to collect the children. I can only hope that they survive until then.

  Chapter 8

  The sun slowly makes its trek into the sky as I finish packing the blanket away. I nibble on a small piece of gran as I map out my journey to Joult. With good time, I should make it there in five days’ time. However, knowing me and my recent pace, I can count on the journey lasting eight days instead.

  Breakfast finished, I shoulder my pack and weapon and move towards the stream. I decided to cover my tracks in case my presence was noticed after all. I didn’t need to be caught unaware by vengeful townspeople. As my booted feet make contact with the stream, I’m thankful for warm and solid shoes to keep my feet dry. Wet socks would make this unpleasant journey far less comfortable.

  I travel up the stream for about an hour before I climb out. Deciding I covered my trail sufficiently, I pull out my map and survey my location. I estimate my position on the map and pick my path. I head northeast as my thoughts wander.

  The weather is getting cooler and within four or five months, snow will fall. I need to secure my survival before then, though I’m not sure how. I’ll need a place to hide in when the weather turns. I could start searching now and narrow something down in the next couple months.

  A cave would work, if it’s large enough to build a fire. Securing wood and stocking up is essential as well. For extra warmth, I could make a fur coat or blanket from my hunts. I would need to hone my hunting skills and I suppose the best solution to that is practice. I can start with smaller game and try my skill with that. I can also try savaging the surrounding area for berries and such to stock up on. I’d make it work, somehow.

  If only I had listened to the Elders. I wouldn’t be here in the first place. I wouldn’t need to worry about anything. Now, I’m out here all alone in a world unfamiliar to me.

  Never wander past the borders, for those who venture out never return. It is why the stories of the Elders were told in the first place, or so they used to say. According to them, many years ago, there were humans who craved the adventures similar to my own, and unlike me, had the freedom to pursue those dreams. One by one, those adventurers failed to return on schedule. Sixty years ago, the village leaders established the borders. Our ancestors claimed that it was to protect us all. The never specified what it was they were protecting us from. I doubt they even knew.

  The Elders always said that to be curious of Them was to sentence you to a fate worse than death. The Elders even claimed that They would steal you away into the night and you would never be heard from again. The Elders had a terrible habitat of frightening you into submission with their outlandish stories and tales. Most of the Elders stories were rubbish with not enough details to make for a credible retelling of the past, and as a result, I had never put much stalk into those stories. Nobody had ever witnessed a kidnapping, and other villagers later came forth to declare witness of the ‘stolen’ villagers passing over the boundaries. They also claimed the villagers were in a trance, but honestly? Nobody knew. Everything was just speculation.

  Now, I know better. The stories were true. Perhaps the Elders never really understood everything they spoke, but they spoke truths. They did steal villagers away in the night. They are dangerous. They possessed those they took. And now, it’s too late to heed their words. It’s far too late.

  It’s ironic. All I wanted growing up was to go on adventure, experience the thrill of my life. To leave the village and see the world at last. And now here I am, under circumstances I never anticipated. All I dream about now is my home. How unfortunate that I realized the moment it was too late, the only thing I ever needed was my family. Now, I can’t even have that. If only I had stayed home that night.

  I stare at the wood beam ceiling and wait until the last of the noise fades from my ears before slowly start counting to a hundred and twenty. One, two, three, four… one hundred and nineteen, one hundred and twenty. It’s time. I need to calm down, I’ve gone over this plan a million times before. I’m fine, everything will be fine. Take a deep breath and focus, Alanna.

  I pull the blankets back from my body and sit upright. Glancing around my bare room, I see the small window to my right covered in a thick black curtain. Sitting along the wooden wall to the left of the window is my one bookshelf stacked to the brim with my cherished collection of books. My treasure has been accumulated over the span of my twenty-two years. I’m the only one in the family with this many books that has still found time to read them twice.

  On the connecting wall is my large wooden, antique dresser that has been passed down our family line for generations. Although it currently sits in my room, it is no more mine than the house I reside in. When I am forced to take a husband, his house shall become mine and all I will be allowed to take are my books and clothes to remind me of my old life.

  There are two doors on the wall to my right. The door to the left leads to the hallway while the one of the right holds my small collection of shoes and jackets.

  I take a small breath and cross over to closet of the small room. I reach in to grab the small pack as quietly as I’m able. Inside are my favorite combat boots, a spare set of clothes, a flashlight, two canisters of water, and enough dried meat and cheese to last two days. While I plan to arrive back home tomorrow night, it’s always better to have extra rations than not enough. I’ll be grabbing my bow and quiver from the bushes I had hidden it earlier this afternoon. After going through my mental checklist, I take one more look around my meager room before slipping out my door, to the right, and down the hall.

  Careful of my steps and the creaks in the floorboards, I slink past the bathroom on the right. I move away from my sister’s room on the left, my brother’s room next to hers. As I enter the living room, I turn and take a quick look down the hall to the room my parents occupy. Whispering my goodbyes, I make my way through the kitchen on the left, out the side door, and into the backyard. I swing my pack over my shoulder and pull my boots from my bag. I purposely kept them off as to not make more noise than necessary. I tie the laces.

  Pausing briefly to assure myself that no one followed me, I take a cursory glance around the yard. I resume my stealthy pace and walk straight back to the fence line surrounding my parent’s property. I reach into the brush to snag my bow and quiver. After securing my weapon, I open the gate and wince. The gate is older than I am and squeaks with every pull. I suck in a breath and continue on my mission to freedom. Luckily, the gate opens up to the forest directly. I can make a swift dash past the tree line which marks the boundary line of our small village. Once through, I will no longer have to worry about getting dragged back to the village since no one will dare pursue me past the boundary line.

  I am so close I can almost taste my freedom. In my haste, I push the gate with more force than necessary and it slams closed with a bang. Mentally cursing myself, I sprint the last fifty paces and force myself through the thicket along the tree line. I skid to a stop and look back. My eyes take in the view of my family’s small one story log cabin.

  I did it. I really did it.


  I expected to feel excitement and ecstasy for making it as far as I did, but I don’t. I’m nervous. What if something happens? What if this is a mistake? I shouldn’t be doing this. This is ridiculous. I don’t have anything to prove to the villagers. They don’t have to know I came this far. I can still turn back. It’s not too late… but this is what I wanted, wasn’t it? This is all I have thought about for the past month. I’m finally going on that journey I’ve always dreamed of. It’s only until tomorrow night and then I’ll be back. I can do this. I’m just letting the nerves talk.

  It’s fine. I’m fine. I will do this. I have to do this.

  Mind made up, I turned once more. I slip my flashlight from the side pocket of my bag and turn it on. The tree canopy is thicker than I had anticipated and dims the light from the moon and stars. All I can see in the darkness of the night is the narrow path the light from my flashlight makes. Even though the thick night air presses down on me, I shake off the feeling and focus. I had gone over my plan to freedom so many times, but actually experiencing it is a vastly different thing. I take a few deep breaths before panic sets in.

  I take a few tentative steps forward before the feeling completely abates. My breath is steady and my steps sure. The nerves have finally dissipated and in their wake, stands the long-anticipated excitement. A smile creeps along my face as the giddiness escalates. I feel like jumping for joy and skipping across the uneven terrain in the dark, knowing full well it would only end with my faceplant in the dirt. Instead, I resign myself to calm steps forward. I know my first order of business is to find a place to rest until the morning sun. Ideally, I would find the perfect abandoned cave to lie in, but a close second is a tall tree to perch on.

  And how short lived that excitement was. I was so fucking stupid and naïve and I paid a hefty price for it.

  If only He didn’t exist. If They didn’t exist. My life would still be normal, I would still be normal. They are the reason I’m here. It’s not just my stupidity that got me here. They did too. This is also Their fault. They did this to me.

  My anger swells inside my chest. My vision narrows and my brows furrow. My hands clench and my breathing labors. Angry tears threaten to fall as I stare at nothing. My mind is on a loop, the endless aggression and frustration directed at myself and at Them.

  I fight to control the surge of emotion. I manage to stuff the memories and thoughts deep after long, tense moments. The emotion lingers at the surface, ready to overtake me if I let it. I force the tears away and focus on steadying my breath. I breathe in slowly and count to five. I hold it for three counts before exhaling with seven. I repeat this process for several long minutes before I’m successful. My heart slows and my rational thought returns. I can’t let that happen again. I can’t let the emotions overcome me like that.

  I need to learn control.

  Chapter 9

  I resume my pace and focus my thoughts on different things. I need to hone my survival skills and stealth. I’m still no expert with the bow; I need more practice. For hunting, I’ll need to be stealthy so I don’t frighten away the prey. I’ll need to learn to scavenge, too; I can’t afford poisonous berries again.

  The problem is, I never needed these skills, and I don’t have anyone to teach me now. I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t teach myself. Stealing isn’t an option—the overwhelming guilt since I saw those starving children will be too much to bare a second time.

  Distant chatter stirs me from my thoughts, and I grind to a halt. Confused, I crouch behind a nearby dol tree and pull out my map. As I thought, the nearest village is several days out; there must be a camp of travelers set up nearby. There’s no harm in observing from a distance, so I quietly move in the direction of the noise. Making sure to keep to the shadows of the evening sun, I stick myself behind a tree as I soon see the source of the bustle.

  The herd of capalts are grazing just beyond the tents. The loyal creatures don’t need to be secured. The giant scaled beast with leathery wings and saber teeth are known to be gentle and loyal to their keepers. There are eight makeshift tents, just some cloth thrown over the lower limbs of the dol trees. I pause and recount the number of tents: eight. I can only see five people. My heart threatens to jump out of my chest; there are three more people, likely patrolling the surrounding area.

  Laughter fills the air, yet warning bells go off inside my head. I peek my head out from behind the tree to get a better look. All five are wearing uniforms, and they each carry a weapon. One male has two thin swords attached to his hips, another has a large sword strapped across his back, the third male carries two daggers on his hips, and the two females carry bows across their backs.

  The weapons are no surprise, but the unique features are. The blood drains from my face as I finally notice the odd eye color of these people. Their ears are long and pointed, just like mine. Like a tidal wave, the panic sets in. With the panic comes the rage. As if in a daze my bow is suddenly in my hands. I aim at Them, my hands shaking uncontrollably. My breathing is labored and my heart is pounding. The blood is rushing in my ears, making near impossible to hear anything beyond my own heart.

  They need to die. They did this. This is all Their fault. I need to hurt them. They need to die. How could they do this to me? I will end them. They won’t expect it but I’ll do it. A burning heat expands inside my chest. The need for revenge is all consuming. It feeds the thing inside my chest. My hands are on fire. I look down, expecting to see sweating, red hands. Instead they glow like embers from a fire.

  The panic builds higher. I watch in terror as the glow in my hand flares brighter. This can’t be happening. It’s just another bad dream. I’m hallucinating, that’s all. Nothing more. Sweat pours from my flesh and tears leak from my eyes. The glow slowly expands past my wrists as my panic and terror soar to new heights. I need to control it. I need to stop this. I’ve seen this once before. I couldn’t control it then. I don’t know if I can control it now. I thought that time was just a fluke, a freak accident. I need stop it. It can’t be like that time. Not again.

  How long have I been here? How long have they kept me attached to the machines? How much longer will I be? I don’t feel the pain from it anymore. The male adjusts some buttons and wires, and the female pours that awful glowing liquid in a vial. They will stick me over and over with that needle. Before, I could feel the fire course through my veins. Before, I could feel the acid seep into my pores and corrode my insides. Before, I could feel my throat close as my scream try to be heard. Before, I could feel the tears burning a path down my face. Before, I could feel my mind close in on itself as the agony takes control. Before. I could feel my sanity slowly chip away, bit by bit.

  Now, I feel blessed emptiness. Now, I feel no pain. Now, I feel my mind wander to someplace good. Now, I feel nothing. They finally broke me. I don’t feel anything anymore, nothing but anger remains. And hate. Why did it come to this? It wasn’t supposed to end like that? I was supposed to go home. They lied to me. It’s a game to Them. One They intend to win. One They did win. When it was just me, I could take it. Whatever They did to me, I survived it. But this time They went too far. Nothing will ever be the same again. They did this. They did this to me. They did this to them. They need to pay. They need to suffer. They need to die. All of Them. I’ll kill Them. One way or another I will burn Them. Like They burned me. I’ll watch as Their pretty and perfect skin boils and bursts.

  Almost as if it’s egging me on, a burning expands inside my chest. I will it to grow. I feed it my hate. I feed it my anger. I feed it all the pain I have endured. It’s so warm inside. It warms my dead heart and brings it back to life. I relish in the rage. I urge it forward and coax it closer to the surface. I feel a cruel and malicious smile etch its way across my face. I think I laugh but I can’t be certain. I no longer hear the outside world. All my ears hear is the roar of the fire building in my body. It seems to take control of me. I welcome it. Again, I urge it closer and closer. Let it cons
ume me. Let it burn everything down in its rage.

  I watch in sick amusement as the male and female’s eyes grow wide in alarm. I watch in twisted delight as they slowly back away. Like I’m the monster. Like I’m the awful creature in Hellvian. Now I know I laugh. I distantly feel my body shake uncontrollably. I distantly feel the tears of joy make their way down my face. I distantly feel the fire on my exposed flesh. But it doesn’t burn. No, it skates across my skin like a long-lost friend. In response, I feed it more rage and pain. I give it a treat for the comfort its presence gives me.

  Suddenly I’m standing. I’m no longer strapped down. It puzzles me but I don’t stop. I stalk to the two in the room. They backed themselves in the corner, far from the door. So very stupid. I eye them like prey. I can almost smell their terror. My cruel smile expands. The female starts to glow purple and I laugh. Before I can blink, silver flames engulf her frame. How small she looks now. No longer looking over me. No longer hurting me. She is nothing. She will burn until there’s nothing but ashes in her wake. Her screams fill the air. The sound is like music to my ears. The man’s face is terrified. He looks like he’s in pain too. That angers me. What does he know of pain? He knows nothing. Nothing like the pain they inflicted on me.

  But he will know. He will burn and burn. In seconds the man is alight. Just like the other. He screams the loudest. That only brings a giggle out of my throat. To think, he was the one who enjoyed inflicting pain the most. He is the one who tolerates it the least. A deep twisted sense of satisfaction rolls through me at the sight of them burning. The smell of melting flesh should be repulsive. The sound of their scream should be grating. But it’s not. I enjoy it. The heat inside wiggles with joy. I feed it more. I need it strong. It chases away all the bad things. It makes me feel.