Prowling in the Night
Elzalore tossed and moaned in his sleep.
He was young again, maybe 14. He was a starving boy during the siege, trapped behind the duke's walls for months while the enemy outside stopped any chance of relief.
He had been roaming the streets at night, mad with hunger. He had become a senseless animal, driven only by the need to survive. He was a scrawny, dirty, growling thing.
He prowled the empty shopping district, just one of many places he checked each night. He looked under baskets and found human skulls gleaming white in the torchlight. He looked under stacks of bloody rugs and found bones.
Finally, he reached a distant part of the market. Somehow, he knew this was off limits. Dangerous.
He stopped, tense and coiled like a cat deciding to leap. Maybe there was food back there. Had he ever looked? No. Or had he? He wasn’t sure.
He heard a small noise behind a stall. Was someone there ahead of him? Was someone taking his food?
That was enough. He rushed forward, hands out, ready to grasp and tear. Ready to kill for his food.
He was blinded by a flash of blue light that snapped his eyes shut. He clawed at the empty air, trying to feel the enemy before him. But there was nothing.
The brightness behind his eyelids faded; he blinked past purple spots and gasped.
He saw a banquet in front of him, a candlelit table set with steaming meat, pies, butter, and soft white bread - the kind the duke ate.
“Welcome, my friend,” a voice said. At the head of the table, a blue flame flickered like a thin veil of gauze. A man’s shape emerged and vanished as the strange fire danced around him. “I have been waiting for you to find me.”
Elzalore felt saliva running down his chin. He was so unbelievably hungry.
“Make me a promise, and you may eat your fill.”
Elzalore nodded even as a secret, small voice screamed a warning in his mind.
The man leaned forward, elbows on the table, his face fully emerging from the flames. “In two nights, the moon will be new. In the darkness, you will unlock the back gate near Aunt Matilda’s cottage. When you are finished, you will light this candle.”
The man tossed a blue candle to Elzalore. He tried to catch it, but it swooped left and landed in his vest pocket.
“To these things you freely agree, yes?”
“Yes,” Elzalore rasped. The stranger nodded and leaned back, submerging in the flames.
And Elzalore woke up full of an old man’s regrets.
He prowled the empty shopping district, just one of many places he checked each night. He looked under baskets and found human skulls gleaming white in the torchlight. He looked under stacks of bloody rugs and found bones.
Finally, he reached a distant part of the market. Somehow, he knew this was off limits. Dangerous.
He stopped, tense and coiled like a cat deciding to leap. Maybe there was food back there. Had he ever looked? No. Or had he? He wasn’t sure.
He heard a small noise behind a stall. Was someone there ahead of him? Was someone taking his food?
That was enough. He rushed forward, hands out, ready to grasp and tear. Ready to kill for his food.
He was blinded by a flash of blue light that snapped his eyes shut. He clawed at the empty air, trying to feel the enemy before him. But there was nothing.
The brightness behind his eyelids faded; he blinked past purple spots and gasped.
He saw a banquet in front of him, a candlelit table set with steaming meat, pies, butter, and soft white bread - the kind the duke ate.
“Welcome, my friend,” a voice said. At the head of the table, a blue flame flickered like a thin veil of gauze. A man’s shape emerged and vanished as the strange fire danced around him. “I have been waiting for you to find me.”
Elzalore felt saliva running down his chin. He was so unbelievably hungry.
“Make me a promise, and you may eat your fill.”
Elzalore nodded even as a secret, small voice screamed a warning in his mind.
The man leaned forward, elbows on the table, his face fully emerging from the flames. “In two nights, the moon will be new. In the darkness, you will unlock the back gate near Aunt Matilda’s cottage. When you are finished, you will light this candle.”
The man tossed a blue candle to Elzalore. He tried to catch it, but it swooped left and landed in his vest pocket.
“To these things you freely agree, yes?”
“Yes,” Elzalore rasped. The stranger nodded and leaned back, submerging in the flames.
And Elzalore woke up full of an old man’s regrets.
///
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