Amorthon Blackwood

Forgotten Memories - Pt. 4

(Slightest hint of torture. Not super descriptive, but you’ve been warned.)

There was something about moonless nights…something about the way the forest stilled, it’s inhabitants seeking safety from the inky blackness that covered the landscape. Eerie, perhaps…maybe unusual, but not as unusual as the fire burning in the lone, barely standing structure. Beside the fire sat a cloaked figure, idly turning a glass bottle between his hands, its contents almost as dark as the night sky. It was only when the door to the structure cracked open that the hands stopped, setting the bottle off to the side. “You’re late.”

Lugon paused, brushing his hands together, not bothering to close the door behind him. Not like the rickety thing managed to block out the night air anyway. “Took a little longer than I thought. Kid put up a fight and your wife was more than a little hysterical.”

“…Hysterical over what?”

“…That the boy’s ‘missing’.”

The cloaked figure shot up, the hood falling away. “MISSING Lugon?! Missing implies that he might wander back!”

The stable hand held up his hands defensively. “Oye. Didn’t pay me to kill anyone. Story is he chased after the foal he’s been spending so much time with, who just ‘happened’ to get out…and he’s off in them black woods somewhere. Might’ve dropped a hint that the older boy let the foal out…what’s his name, Xaithan?”

Darrenar snarled as he raked a hand through his hair. “…And the foal?”

“Sold the mare off last week, and waited a week to take the foal to its new home. No one noticed it was gone till this afternoon…’bout the time the boy ‘disappeared’.”

Darrenar pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not how he’d planned this out. “…And the lynx?”

“Oh…dead. Launched himself at me when he saw me goin’ after the kid.”

“Just where IS Ruidor, since he’s clearly NOT dead?”

“…In the back of my cart, knocked unconscious. Got a nasty knot on the back of his head too. Little bastard is stronger than he looks.”

An irritated sigh was followed by a roll of the taller man’s shoulders. “Little bastard indeed. Go get him. We need to ensure that he can’t wander back. Assuming he makes it through the night that is. We’ll also be doing something to try and make that an…unlikely scenario. Certainly wouldn’t want his brother finding out about this little mishap.”

Darrenar turned to his belongings,  fighting back a growl as he turned, spotting Lugon still by the door. “What Lugon?”

“…What about his mother?”

“What of her?”

“…He’s her ‘little boy’, aye? How exactly ya planning on managing that kinda grief?” The stable hand’s concerned gaze was met with an icy stare.

“She’ll get over it. She can have others.” Lugon shook his head, giving a tired sigh.

“You really are a sick bastard.”

“A sick bastard who is paying you, now go GET the little shit so we can be done with this.”

With a short nod the stable hand disappeared back into the darkness, returning a short time later with the limp form of Ruidor in his arms. “Sit him down, and make sure he’s propped up.”

“…What’re you gonna -”

“Don’t ask questions, just do as I say.”

“…Aye.”

With the boy situated and bound, Darrenar approached, smelling salts in hand. “Up boy.”

Groggy, his vision very fuzzy, and more than a bit nauseous, Ruidor slowly opened his eyes, closing them almost immediately from the light. “My-my head. What’s…Father? I do-”

“Enough. You’re going on a little ‘trip’.”

“…Wh-? Minn’da didn’t mention…”

“She doesn’t know, doesn’t need to know. And soon enough, you won’t know where or who you are either. You see…you’ve been a thorn in my side since the moment of your conception. Bastard that you are. And your mother thought I wouldn’t notice…that I wouldn’t pick up on the subtle differences…or rather the obvious similarities between you and that ass of a brother of yours.”

“…I don’t -” Ruidor’s voice was cut off with a gasp, as Darrenar gripped his throat tightly.

“I didn’t tell you to talk.”

A beat passed, then two before the hand was finally pushed away. “Oye. I ain’t been paid to kill him or watch him get killed. Stop yappin’ and let’s get this over with.” Still taking big, gasping breaths, the boy frantically looked between the two men. One he’d called his father, the other he’d thought was a friend.

“…Fine then.” Darrenar grabbed Ruidor by the hair, grabbing the glass bottle off the table with his free hand. “There’s no mother or big brother to save you this time…and your father -” he practically spat the word, “-I doubt he even knows you exist. Soon enough, chances are good that won’t continue to. Things will be as they should be, as you never should have existed in the first place. He nodded towards the table hand. “Now…if you don’t mind, Lugon.”

The stable hand sighed. “…Sorry kid.” He gripped the boy’s lower jaw, forcing his mouth open long enough for Darrenar to pour the black contents of the bottle into Ruidor’s mouth, and the forcing the boy’s mouth closed once again. Darrenar pinched the boy’s nose, blocking off the only airway left to him, and forcing him to swallow the vile liquid, and it was only then that the grip on his jaw was released.

The edge of his vision started to blur as Ruidor fought to listen, to understand…why.

“Now what?” Darrenar adjusted his cloak, pulling his hood up over his head once again.

“A few rather powerful spells to block his memory and you dump him in the darkest corner of these hell hole woods that you can find. With any luck, he’ll be dead in a day or two.”

“…And what if he ain’t?” An irritated snort.

“Either way, he’s no longer my problem. Not as though I ever wanted him in the first place.”

“…Fine then, what are you gonna tell the wife?”

“The truth…” He gripped Ruidor by the hair, forcing the boy to look up one last time before his eyes rolled back, unconsciousness taking him once again.

“Ruidor is dead.”