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Chapter 1


The Two Brothers


A hushed silence fell over the woods. The usual chill of nightfall, carried by a gentle breeze flowed through Albern’s thick, brown hair as he watched the evening light fade away to darkness.

"Pleasant place to meet," said a man, leaning against a tree, sharpening his dagger with a rock.

Albern slid his sword from out of its scabbard, admiring its beauty. He held it up against the moonlight, four symbols pressed down upon his eyes, their meaning unknown.

"The winds whisper worrying words from the east," he warned, sheathing his sword and turning his attention to the man.

"The people of the trees have spoken of hearing a vilanchi’s cry".

The man’s face hardened, ceasing sharpening of his blade. The cloak he wore danced to the wind.

"Vilanchi’s are a myth," assured the man. "You should not believe a single word those tree people speak. Funny folk they are, probably heard a fire wolf’s mating call for all they know, certainly has an eerie sound to it."

Albern moved towards the man, watching him waste his words on an irrelevant argument.

"I’m just saying, Albern," he continued. "Those freaks drink sap from trees and smoke crushed up leaves. I’m not belie-“

Albern cut the man off. “Mother wouldn’t have appreciated your foul words towards the people of the trees. I remember telling you she used to help educate them. I’m sure she still would be too if she...” He stopped himself.

"She wouldn’t have believed in a stupid myth," said the man quickly, claiming victory. He pushed his long hair away from his eyes.

“Your hair was better shorter.” Said Albern, trying to change the subject.

“Mother wouldn’t have appreciated your judgemental words towards your brother’s appearance.” He replied, grinning.

The two brother’s eyes met, they both smiled. "It’s been awhile, Aurol," said Albern, gazing up at his brother’s face, it seemed tired.

"It’s good to see you, brother," Aurol replied. "So what was so urgent?"

Albern pulled a piece of crumpled parchment from his pocket, handing it to him.

Aurol unfolded it carefully and read it:

Dear Albern, sorry to trouble you, but there have been reports of a Vilanchi lurking around the Wouldering Woods. Search the woods will you, disprove the suspicions. The last thing we want is a Vilanchi causing terror to the town-folk. Good luck and best wishes. Mr Flutwere.

Aurol frowned, handing Albern back the piece of parchment.

"Don’t waste your time," he said, looking down at Albern. "I’m not helping you search for a children’s tale, I’m sorry."

"Vilanchi’s are dangerous creatures, Aurol," said Albern, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "We must not brush off the possibility that there is one lurking about. Though the chances are low, there is still always a chance that the people of the trees were right in what they heard. We must be sure, that is all."

"The Tree-folk are mad!” pleaded Aurol. "If they’re so worried, why don’t they move from the Wouldering Woods?"

"They did, Aurol," said Albern, standing as tall as he could, yet only reaching Aurol’s shoulders. "They moved from the Watering Creek up to Treetop, they are very sure in what they heard, and I’m sure they can tell the difference between a fire wolfs mating call and that of a Vilanchi, they aren’t as dim-witted as you make them out to be."

Silence struck them both.

Aurol sighed, flicking his fingers. A tremendous fire flamed up in front of them, lighting up where they stood and further beyond.

"The nights are becoming darker, Albern," said Aurol, his eyes following the embers up into the black sky. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Albern stood beside his brother; gazing into the fire, watching it dance. “I’m the beast hunter, Aurol. It is what I must do."

Albern sat down on a log next to the fire. Aurol joined him.


The fire had turned to ash by the time the two brothers had finished telling tales of their time apart. The flames that once lit up the small area of the woods in which they sat had all but gone. Leaving darkness to take its place.

"We must be going", said Aurol getting to his feet. "The creatures that lurk these woods aren’t as welcoming as those further south."

Albern gazed up into the night sky, realising how far the moon had drifted.

"Our stories got the better of us", he chuckled, feeling the chill battling with the warmth the fire had provided. "There is an Inn a few bridges up, we will seek comfort and warmth there tonight."

Albern longed a good feed and an ale to throw it down with. He told himself he wouldn’t find comfort until he had reached the Wouldering Woods and met with his brother, for the Vilanchi’s were quick moving creatures and it was only a matter of time, if they were out there, until they made contact with folk of the town.

"Grab your belongings, Aurol", instructed Albern, "These roads are lurking with odd folk; desperate odd folk. We must stick together."

"I’ve had my fair share of encounters, Albern," said Aurol, slicing his dagger through the night air. "They know not to mess with me."

"I’m sure they’ll run away in fear at the sight of you," said Albern with a touch of sarcasm.

Aurol brushed it off.


The Bloodstone Inn stood alone along the road. Its many windows displaying the warm, friendly glow of the fire. Two horses were out the front, one was drinking water from a bucket while the other was staring into one of the windows, not happy about being left out in the cold.

Albern stroked its mane as he walked through the gate, admiring its softness.

Albern entered the Inn first, their presence being stated by a little bell on the door, ringing its usual warning. Unfamiliar eyes gazed up at them both, Aurol recognised only some; pulling his hood further over his face, his past flooding back to him.

Aurol had spent many long nights in Inns like this one, blurring his past with ale after ale, though never completely erasing it.

Aurol walked to the farthest away table from the others, the voices in his head telling him to run. Aurol had become quite accustomed to running, though it was mostly from the truth. The truth scared Aurol, knowing what he knew.

"Two of the best", said Albern to the Innkeeper, "and I’ll try one of your lamb roasts, too."

"Two silvers, five copper", demanded the Innkeeper; holding out his hand, his gaze would be considered unsettling to some.

"Of course," said Albern, rummaging through his pockets.

He handed over three silvers, "keep the difference" he muttered, turning to find Aurol.

Make it stop, make it stop!’ the voices plagued Aurol’s mind. He held his hands over his face, flashes of bright light, lighting up the inside of his eyelids. He could still remember what he had done. The voices didn’t let him forget. Fragments of the scroll were still in his pocket, afraid of what might happen if he ever touched them again, knowing what happened to his wife. Her voice still screaming in his ears, ’Make it stop, Aurol! Make it stop!’ He wished the same.

"There you are, Aurol," said Albern with a hint of relief in his voice. "Thought you were sharing stories with the town-folk over there for second."

Aurol took his hands from his face, noticing how wet they were. He wiped them quickly on his pants.

 "Are you ok, Brother?" asked Albern, Aurol could see him looking at his face.

"Fine," he lied, just tired. He knew Albern didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t going to give him the truth.

"Two of the best", said the Innkeeper, slamming down two ales onto the wooden table, half of the drink leaving the jugs. "As you requested".

"And my lamb roast?" asked Albern.

"Coming," spat back the Innkeeper, walking away.

Albern chuckled. "Our presence doesn’t seem to be welcomed." He said, lifting his mug.

Aurol gave an agreeing nod as he took a sip from his mug. He had forgotten what finely made ale tasted like.

"That’s the stuff," said Albern, slamming his mug back down on the table, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, leaving a trail of froth.

Aurol finished his sip, placing his ale gently in front of him.

"You beast hunters are such pigs when it comes to eating and drinking," said Aurol, staring at Albern’s empty mug.

"Your lamb," said the Innkeeper, placing it in front of Albern. 

"I don’t see your problem," said Albern with a mouthful of lamb. "We are simply fast eaters and drinkers, unlike you wizard’s, you all eat and drink so slow. It’s really quite painful to watch." The odd piece of lamb leaving his mouth.

"We eat to saviour and drink to enjoy, though I must admit we can get carried away sometimes. Mostly in the amount we drink, not the speed," replied Aurol, taking off his cloak, for the fire was burning magnificently.

Aurol realised his mistake straight away.

He flicked his cloak back on to cover his face, hoping no one saw, but it was too late.

Men began to rise around them, the Innkeeper stepped out back.

"Funny to see you here." Muttered a man closest to the fire, unsheathing his sword from his belt.

Aurol kept quiet, kicking Albern in the shin.

"What was tha-," Albern’s reaction was cut short, he noticed what was wrong straight away.

"What did you do, Aurol?" whispered Albern sharply, reaching for his sword from under the table.

"Later," snapped Aurol, placing his hand on his belt, feeling his dagger.

"What are we to do?" asked Albern desperately.

"Stay still," replied Aurol, reaching for the bits of scroll in his pocket. "Don’t move a muscle or we’ll all be dead."

Albern glanced at Aurol, unsure in what he meant. "What do you mean we’ll all be dead?" whispered Albern sharply.

"Do as I say, Albern." Replied his brother. Aurol counted five men, all of whom were stepping closer by the second.

Albern readied his sword. "We have to do something, Aurol," begged Albern, "We can’t just do nothing".

Aurol didn’t reply.

One of the men ran at them, then all went quiet.


Albern picked himself up from the ground, his hands in excruciating pain. His sword lay flat on the ground, the markings engraved into the sword glowing a bright orange.

"Aurol!" cried Albern, "Are you ok?". He looked around, unable to see anything within the darkness. All the flesh had been melted from his hands, he fell to the ground in pain. "Aurol!" he cried for a second time," tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. "Please don’t be dead."

He heard movement around him. "Stay back!", he screamed, reaching for his sword, touching the handle. "Argggg!" the handle burning what was left of his hand. The movement turned into a faint voice.

"Albern?" the voice whispered, "Where are you?".

"Aurol?" cried Albern, looking around him. "Is that you?".

The voice disappeared, Albern was thrown back into panic. He tried to pick himself up from the ground, but the pain was too much.

"Albern?" The voice broke the silence again. "Where are you?"

Albern looked around again. "I’m over here, Aurol!" Albern saw a figure walking towards him. "Aurol?"

The figure broke the darkness, Aurol’s face was covered in ash, he held a staff out in front of him, a blue crystal was illuminating out the top of it.

"There you are, Albern." said Aurol in relief.

"I thought you were dead, Brother," replied Albern, looking at his brother’s face, not a hint of fear on it. "What did you do, Aurol?" asked Albern, looking around at the devastation.

"I didn’t do anything," replied Aurol, looking over at the sword lying flat on the ground. He had questions he wanted answered, though now was not the time.

Aurol began to wrap Albern’s hands up with some cloth.


The warmth of the Inn had vanished. The fire had been extinguished. Six bodies lay dead on the floor, including the Innkeeper.

"We must be going, Albern," said Aurol, helping his brother to his feet. "These men have families; we have no business being here no more."

Albern was in shock. The pain he was feeling was beyond all he had felt before.

"It was the sword that burnt my hand, Aurol," assured Albern, watching it lay innocently on the ground. "It was as hot as dragon’s breath, the symbols engraved into it were glowing orange. I have no idea what it means".

Aurol believed his brothers words, for even he didn’t know what it meant, though he was concerned it wasn’t anything good. "We will take the horses, Albern." Said Aurol, looking out the window. The two horses were still there. "I’ll carry the sword until it cools. Come now, Albern, we must hurry."


The two brothers left the Inn, the little bell on the door screaming their exit, yet no one heard. The night air was crisp and lonely. They both untied the horses from the fence, hoping they would stay calm.

"We will ride to Saint Melen," instructed Aurol, helping Albern mount his horse. "We must speak with Uncle Woodley."

Albern agreed silently, he felt the parchment rub against his leg; he knew what he must do, but he wasn’t going to argue with his brother, he was too weak.

"Saint Melen is a one-day ride away," said Aurol, mounting his own horse. “We must ride quickly.”

The two horses galloped down the lonely road, as quickly as they could.


Next Chapter: Chapter 2