Akahsha didn’t stop running until he was back in the town center. He was surrounded by the women and the children who stayed behind. They looked at him; he was covered in blood. Wanda and Winona cried next to him, but Akahsha could only cry tears of his own. He could see
the men as they hit the floor, hear their screams, their pleas of mercy.
On’sr soldier't yass futen killet. On’sr family sas’h killet. Jalu gohluyng die. T't orr'shugg gohluyng shemtor fut destroyet. Jalu gohluyng futcome gi harbinger yi cj uh’e.
The whispers only grew louder, especially outside of the cave. Akahsha could only speak one word. When the villagers asked if he were alright, he could only repeat the word. In his head, no matter how many times the word was something else, he could only think of that word.
Illithids.
The families no longer had a home to go to, and without crops or workers to help sustain, they couldn’t stay. Their husbands and fathers had died, brothers fallen, and many already were sick from the crops. It was almost overnight that everyone but Akahsha left. Even Winona and Wanda tried to take Akahsha with them.
“Akahsha,” Winona was crying. “We’re going to have to go now. Will you come with us?”
Akahsha sat on the steps next to his mother’s headless corpse.
“Illithids.” Akahsha whispered. His eyes stared down at the ground.
“I love you, Akahsha. I won’t ever forget you. I will see you again one day.” Winona hugged him, but he was unresponsive. Wanda laid down a basket of food before Akahsha.
“Come, Winona. We must make it to the next town before nightfall.” Wanda ushered Winona away.
Days passed before Akahsha knew it. He heard words that he’d never even imagined before. Words that the more and more he heard, he could understand. He ate all of the food in the basket, then he travelled until he found food to eat. He would come in and out of hazes, eating food from home that his father and mother had salted and frozen for future use. He would find the food reserves in the shacks of homes. He plundered the tavern’s reserves.
Months passed before Akahsha knew it. He smelled himself at times, and knew he reeked. He could only say one thing.
Illithids.
The words in his mind were becoming clearer.
A year passed before he knew it.
The body of his mother was too rank to keep out in the town square. He buried her in front of their home, next to a board in his father's place. He changed his clothes and washed himself in the river. He could see the mental images of the monsters in the cave, and he worked himself to near exhaustion everyday. He challenged his physical strength. He ate enough to make sure he could support his decision. He picked up heavier and heavier sticks.
Another year would pass in the blink of an eye.
One day, it all made sense to him. He could see the eyes of the mind flayer, the one who he saw before he left. It spoke to him, he could feel. The words made sense now. They were saying the names of those who perished in the caves, repeating their names over and over and over.
Illithids. Grimden. Orgadesh. Ronaldo. Salahkah. Gelmana. Other names he didn’t know, but could hear.
Akahsha broke from his trance screaming in the town center. He was alone in the town. He had been alone for two years, and he looked around at the houses that were not kept up with. He grabbed the short sword his father entrusted him with, and took to the forest path. He went by their cottage. It was still sturdy, but it was just as he saw it last. Akahsha could only assume that in his trance, he cleaned it to his best ability. He put on some furs that his father had put aside for Akahsha. Akahsha made sure that the bandana around his own head was tied tightly. He looked at his family’s home one last time before he went towards the cave. It was frigid, but Akahsha wasn’t scared any longer. He had relived the one day for two years, without even realizing it.
Akahsha entered the cave, and walked until he found his father’s sword. The bodies were still strewn about, but they were skeletons by now. He picked up his father’s sword and looked up. The same mind flayer who killed his father was above him now, looking down at the fourteen year old Akahsha.
“Are you ready to meet your parents in the next life?” The mind flayer said, in the same language that he would come to know as Deep Speech. Akahsha could understand what it was saying now. He smiled and shook his head.
“No.” Akahsha plunged the sword through the mind flayer’s chest. It cried out, and Akahsha dug further in. He pulled the sword from its body and plunged it in again. He did this until it fell to the floor, dead. He stood over it, breathing heavily. He looked up and heard more illithids come. He grabbed the sheath from his father’s corpse, and the necklace that his father had given his mother so long ago. He ran from the caves and didn’t stop until he made it back to town.
There was a silence that lingered over it all, and he looked up to the sky. The snow began to fall. He walked away from Holstenkaft, feeling that he had to leave the home he loved so much behind. It was only kind to him for a short while, before everything was ripped from him.
He noticed that he had gotten taller in the couple of years that he was in a trance. His hair had grown longer. He had a soft face still, but he was stronger due to his mindless training. He couldn’t help but feel that the mind flayer wanted to die, as he spoke to Akahsha, beckoning him for two years.
He travelled until his body couldn’t any longer. He fell against a tree and laid the sword next to himself. The cold overtook his body, and he shivered. There’s only so much that fur can do when you’re alone, and the wilderness was not a kind beast.
Akahsha closed his eyes, feeling as if he failed his parents. He wanted so much to believe that they weren’t gone, and that all of this was just a horrible dream. He urged himself to wake up from this wretched nightmare, and to forget all of the things he’d witnessed. He wanted to see his parents again, in the flesh, hugging him, telling him it’d be alright. That he’d be alright.
Akahsha cried for hours before snapping out of his haze. He could hear the crackle of fire, and by the time he opened his eyes, it was near midnight. Three clothed and armored figures of various wares sat around him. He went to draw his weapon, but recognized that they were all sitting around him with no weapons drawn.
The first man he saw was an older man, with short stature, but thick arms and wide shoulders. He wore battered steel plate armor, his helmet sat next to him, and his white hair was long and tied into a ponytail, and his beard was braided into a tight knot.
The second was a woman dressed in furs and feathers, and she had a quarterstaff made out of a sturdy-looking bone. She had green hair that flowed past her shoulders. She had blue eyes.
The third was also a woman, who had green glowing eyes, strange vine tattoos on her arms and legs, and thick, well-kept black hair. The furs were black as night, and she had a large dagger hanging from her side.
They all had some sort of food, and Akahsha looked at them with hungry eyes. The lady with the black hair looked at him with a bored, tired expression.
“I sure hope you don’t plan on stealing any of our food,” she yawned. “I’d really hate to beat you up before I lay down.” She looked up to the others at the campsite.
The man stood and clanked in his full plate armor. He gave a strong salute.
“My name is Stenson Gardleberry. I am a Knight of the Oldest Order; a Knight of Canterbury.” His eyes reflected the flickering flame. He wasn’t tall, but he looked valiant.
“I’m Ordna!” The woman with green hair jumped up and extended her hand forward. Akahsha took her hand, and she shook it violently. She had a grin on her face that was earnest.
“That’s Quinta!” Ordna said and pointed with her other hand to the woman sitting by the fire.
“Ordna, that’s rude. I was going to introduce myself.” Quinta said and took a sip of some tea.
“Were you, really?” Ordna looked at her with big eyes.
“No.” Quinta replied with a tiny grin. “I’m not one for talking much. Please respect that -”
“Akahsha.” Akahsha spoke aloud.
“Akahsha. You will not get much from me. Ask Stenson or Ordna if you need anything.” Quinta stood up and looked around. She walked towards a tree about twenty feet away and climbed it. When she reached a thick, sturdy branch, she attached a series of ropes that were formed to make a hammock with another similarly sturdy branch.
Akahsha’s gaze was fixated on her, and then Stenson cleared his throat.
“Boy, what are you doing out here by yourself?” The knight asked.
He didn’t know what to say, but he figured the truth would be better than a series of lies. He was never really good at lying.
“My village was slaughtered,” he swallowed. “By Illithids. There’s too many of them for me to kill on my own. My father and mother were killed. More than a dozen men died, too. I couldn’t do anything more for them. I swear, though. I will return to Holstenkaft, and I will kill every illithid there.”
The silence settled for a bit, Stenson and Ordna looked in the fire, letting their emotions settle before they comforted a hurt boy. He was only 14. Ordna stood and sat next to Akahsha. She put her arm around him and hugged him. Akahsha hadn’t felt a hug in a couple of years, and didn’t know how much the warmth of another person could feel so good, and make him feel so sad at the same time. He wanted desperately to cry, but these were strangers. He didn’t want to show weakness in front of them, but it was already so hard to stay strong for himself. He didn’t know what to do, so he started to cry.
When the morning came, Akahsha was covered in a fur blanket. Ordna was leaned against a tree, Quinta was still in her hammock, and Stenson was sitting on a tree stump a ways away from the campsite. Akahsha saw the sky in its light purple stage, where the sun was just at the horizon, and peeking over at the world. He walked over to Stenson, who was sharpening his blade with a whetstone. His sword was an excellent craft; the hilt was silver, and the blade was too. Akahsha had seen a well crafted blade in the sword that his father carried, and now it was the sword that he carried.
The old knight looked up and saw the boy approach. He struck his blade with the whetstone one last time and stood. He turned towards the boy. Stenson hadn’t seen a boy with strong arms like his in these parts before, and wondered what the boy did to keep them as such.
“You said you were alone for sometime?” Stenson spoke and walked towards Akahsha slowly. “How long exactly?”
Akahsha didn’t know the exact days, nor even the exact months. He could only guess that two years had passed during his mental haze, and when those words echoed through his mind. No longer did he hear any whispers, so he knew he was free from that, at least.
“Two years, I suppose.” He admitted.
“Two years all alone? How did you manage to keep yourself fed?” Stenson placed his sword back in his sheath, and used the pommel as an armrest, and placed his other fist under his chin. He looked on with interest.
Akahsha saw flashes of himself scrounging through every house, and doing the least amount of hunting he could, since he wasn’t sure of every intricacy. His father had shown him how to hunt, and his mother showed him how to forage. They had prepared him for being on his own for a long time.
“My parents taught me how to hunt, and whatever I couldn’t find in the homes of the villagers that had left, I found in the wilds. I kept myself strong by working myself until I couldn’t exercise any longer. I swung a short sword at times to keep myself distracted.”
“Distracted from what?” Stenson prodded a little deeper.
“The voices in my head,” Akahsha looked at the ground. “Illithids can put their own thoughts into other people’s minds. I could hear their language of Deep Speech for those two long years, to the point where I could understand it. One day I couldn’t distract myself anymore. I went back, grabbed my father’s sword, and killed the one that had gotten in my head.”
Stenson just watched on with intrigue, and when Akahsha was done he beckoned him over. Akahsha looked up and moved closer. Stenson drew his sword and smirked. Akahsha fumbled for his sword, which was on his back. Stenson quickly entered his range and made a wide slash, but purposefully missed Akahsha and stabbed the blade between the boy’s legs. Akahsha fell onto his behind and looked up with scared eyes at the knight.
“You’re inexperienced with a sword, am I wrong?” Stenson looked him in the eyes, and furrowed his brow.
“You’re not wrong,” Akahsha quickly admitted. “I’ve only used a blade a handful of times. I avenged my father with his own sword, but other than that, I’ve hardly swung it.”
“Very well. I will train you, boy. We are Monster Hunters, Akahsha. We will take you with us, and I will teach you how to properly use your weapon. I hope that you will never have to use it, but I also hope that when the time comes should you need to, that you are prepared.” Stenson sheathed his sword, and extended his hand to him. Akahsha sheepishly reached for his hand, and was grabbed by his forearm and lifted off of the ground. The old knight was surprisingly very strong.
“Let’s go fetch breakfast, my boy.” Stenson beckoned as he walked towards the woods.
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