The Branded - Short Story Part 2
Fenn stood rooted in place, too terrified to move and unsure whether the hag’s magic still held him. His heart pounded in his chest and his head reeled. Thoughts bombarded him one after the other. One stood out amongst the rest.
Why me?
“There is no special reason, child. You are simply the descendent who was born when all aligned according to my plans.”
Fenn stumbled back at the hag’s words. Relieved that her magic no longer held him, but horrified that she had known what he was thinking. The hag’s crooked smile deepened and her black eyes gleamed with amusement in the dim light. She turned away from him and hobbled towards a crude cabinet wedged between a pair of shelves pressed up against a wall. Fenn’s eyes trailed after her, soaking in the macabre assortment of antiquities she has collected over the years.
He took a hesitant step back. Perhaps he could slip away while she was distracted?
“There’s no escape until I’m done with you, child.”
She pulled open the cabinet doors and rummaged amongst its shelves, muttering under her breath as she went.
Fenn did not listen to her ramblings. He wanted to have as little to do with her as possible.
The hag turned from the cabinet clutching a small wooden box in her grasp and returned to Fenn.
“The trinkets within will aid you in your task.”
The box rose from her hands and drifted across to Fenn’s open arms. Curious about its contents, he peered inside. A gold ring, medallion, and bracelet, all bearing the eye, stared back. Perplexed, he looked at the hag.
“How are these trinkets going to be of any help to me? I’m more likely to be robbed and killed just by wearing them!”
“They’re not just mundane trinkets, child! I infused each one with my magic.”
Fenn looked back down at the box, trying to come to terms with the revelation.
“Magic…”
The hag’s crooked smile broadened. She licked her lips in delight. She knew she had Fenn’s full attention.
“Yes, magic, child, and they’re yours.” She rubbed her hands.
“What kind of magic? What can they do?”
The hag cackled. “That is not for me to say. Each is unique and will serve a single purpose. In time, each will reveal itself to you.”
Fenn looked up from the sack, doubtful of her claims.
“How can I trust you?”
The hag’s features hardened and a cold, menacing glint crept into her eyes.
“I do not require your trust!” She spat. “You are here to serve a purpose, and those trinkets are the tools you shall use.”
She took a step towards Fenn.
“Do not think to believe that you can question me. I hold the life and prosperity of your lineage. Of those gone and still to come, including you and your parents!”
She took another step closer; her form seeming to grow larger, while the light in the hovel diminished. Fenn could not stop himself from cowering before her.
“Now, obey!”
Pain assaulted Fenn’s body as invisible whips lashed at him. He fell to his knees and bowed his head. The brand burned like hot embers, and his mind screamed in agony. Tears rolled down his face. Emotions roared within him unrestrained. Fear and hatred towards the one who reduced him to such a pitiful state, and anger at himself for being unable to resist her command. To withstand the assault.
Through clenched teeth, he said, “I will obey.”
The pain ceased instantly, but his body still trembled in shock.
“Good. Continue to do so and you will never experience that again.”
She gestured for him to rise, and he did so.
“What would you have me do?”
She smiled.
“You are to seek something that was taken from me. Once found, you are to bring it back to me, no matter the cost.”
Questions arose in Fenn’s mind, but he pushed them back down, terrified of what the hag might do should he voice them. Instead, he nodded.
“It will be done.”
The door to the outside swung open, revealing the night’s gloom.
“You have until the next full moon to complete your task.”
Fenn grunted and stepped out the door.
The hag left him with one last command. “Do not fail me, child.”
With that, the door slammed shut behind him. When he turned around, the hovel had vanished and in its place stood his home.
Fenn, trying his best to stay calm and composed, walked across the yard before stopping in front of the door.
What am I going to tell them? I don’t even know what I’m searching for or where to begin.
He shook his head. He knew what had to be done. His grip tightened on the handle, as did his resolve, and he entered the kitchen.
His mother sat at the table, distraught, while his father paced back and forth. Both turned as the door opened, revealing their son. His mother leapt to her feet and rushed over to embrace him. His father remained where he stood, his face stern.
“We were worried sick, Fenn,” his mother said, while she cradled his face in her hands. “Where have you been?”
His father sniffed and said, “You better have a good explanation, son.”
Fenn glanced between them and felt his resolve crumble.
Tears stained his cheeks as he said, “I… I’ve been chosen.”
The blood drained from his parents’ faces.
“What do you mean, Fenn?” His mother asked.
Fenn looked at her.
“She called me.”
His parents stared at him in shocked silence.
“I… I have to leave tomorrow. I have little time.”
His mother broke down in tears as she held him tight. His father left the kitchen only to return moments later, holding a package wrapped in leather.
“Here,” he said, holding out the package. “This is yours now.”
His mother broke away, and Fenn took the package. He unwrapped it, revealing a sheathed sword.
“She was mine during the border wars.”
Fenn drew the sword from its sheath. The blade gleamed in the lantern glow.
“It’s still sharp.”
“Aigh, I’ve kept her well-looked after over the years. Now, I don’t know what that hag’s got you doing, but that sword will help.”
“Thank you, Da’.”
He sheathed the blade.
His mother placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s get some food in you, and then you need rest. You look exhausted.”
Fenn discovered he was famished, and after stuffing himself with what would be his last home-cooked meal for some time, he wished his parent good night.
Sleep took him, and with it came dreams. Dreams of a city that he had only heard of from visiting peddlers, the city of Bantis, and he felt the city calling him.
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