Chapter Three
“You’re talking about the night Ma and Pa died, aren’t you?” Said Gryffin quietly.
“I am, and I have to tell you that I have not always answered your questions truthfully in the past, although I have never told you any outright lies. You know that they were killed in a house fire. You have always assumed that the fire was accidental and I encouraged you to believe that, but the truth is, Gryff, that we weren’t orphaned by some cruel whim of The Blind god,” unconsciously Dylan placed his hand against his heart, palm to chest, to ask protection of Ostarna, goddess of the six-Tribes from the attentions of Dio, the blind god of fate, eldest and most mysterious of the gods that watched over the lands, “ but by things much crueller. A band of Dokkaebi, probably out of the hills to the east, must have stumbled upon us when they were out to cause some mischief or other.”
Gryffin was visibly stunned at the revelation. Dokkaebi were evil, hateful creatures about the size of men whose green hued skin was covered in a thick pelt of brown hair except for on their faces which were dominated by inhuman yellow eyes, a wide flat nose and a large mouth full of sharp teeth that suggested a carnivorous diet. He had never seen one but from an early age all had heard tales of their cruelty. Gryffin shuddered at what they had planned for his family on that night, so long ago. “But I didn’t think there were any monsters in those hills? I thought they were safe?”
“There aren’t now, or not to my knowledge. After this band swept westward and destroyed a handful of isolated farmsteads, the Ard-Mal, Amren, although he was only the Mal of the Aedua at the time, raised a large warband and scoured the hills. They slew as many of their evil kind as they could find. I don’t doubt that some escaped, but I think that they ran further to the east to safer lands rather than risk the fury of the Aedua. At any rate, if any do still remain, they have kept their heads low for the last fourteen years.”
It seemed to Gryffin as though his brother reciting a story about strangers rather than their own past so unemotional had his tone become.
“Anyway,” continued Dougal, “I was just turned fourteen at the time and had just been given my weapons that Spring at the Night of Fires. We heard their inhuman howls filling the evening as they spotted our farmhouse. Pa just had time to bar the windows and doors before they started hammering on them with their crude axes and swords. I think that, if they had attacked silently, they would have been on us before we could get to our weapons and we would have been slaughtered in moments. Thanks to their noisy approach, Pa and I were able to stop them from entering, even managing to bloody a few! Yet no matter how many we cut or stabbed, there were always more pulling at the door or shutters. Eventually they got frustrated and tired of the game. One of the brighter ones pulled the others away and set a flame to the door. I’m not sure if they wanted to watch and listen to us burn or whether they were just hoping for the heat and the smoke to drive us out. Either way, I remember the smoke starting to build and the heat beginning to blister my skin. I was looking at Pa, hoping that the goddess had given him some inspiration as to what we should do. All I could see was a hopeless choice between burning alive or going out to certain slaughter.” He shifted in his seat, the heat from those distant memories making him uncomfortable.
“Callum claims that he was just out for a ride on his horse in the pleasant late summer evening and had had to slow down due to the fading light. The glow of our house burning drew him to us and, by the goddess, I had never been so pleased to see someone in my entire life! There were at least thirty Dokkaebi swarming around our home, yet he never hesitated, not for second. Down he rode, into the heart of them, his fiery sword slashing on either side of him cleaving their vile breasts apart. As soon as we heard their shrieks of terror, Pa and I ran out to lend him our strength, but I swear to you that he needed none. To me, he was like a god come down to earth. He glowed with an inner fire giving him aura of strength and power that seemed to diminish the foes around him. And his face ….. such fury focussed on his foes. I would rather have faced all the Dokkaebi alone and weaponless than stand against him and that terrible gaze. The contempt with which he cut them down and the ease with which he parried and blocked their childishly primitive thrusts and slashes soon disheartened them. Their harsh war cries turned to shrieks of fear as he cut down any that dare face him. Then, just like that, they turned and ran – what was left of their warband fleeing into the darkness pursued by their flame wielding nemesis. Suddenly, we were plunged into an eerie silence where seconds before we had been in a world of screams and shouts and the clash of weapons. The harsh sound of our breathing sounded loud in our ears quickly to be replaced by the quieter but much more sinister spitting and crackling sound of flames. We turned to see the house burning much more fiercely than when we had left it. We both ran back inside to find you and Ma. I came out clutching my little brother, both of us singed but otherwise unhurt.” He reached out and squeezed Gryffin’s arm. Although his mouth smiled gently, his eyes spoke of such deep pain that Gryffin found it hard to hold his gaze. Dougal finished his story. “Pa never came out again, although he did find Ma. I stood and looked at the burning building for what seemed like an eternity, clutching you to my chest while I watched the house burn. Eventually Callun came back, almost smiling as he stooped to wipe his blade clean on the rough cloth that one of the Dokkaebi wore. He asked if everyone was ok and where Ma and Pa were. I just nodded towards the burning building. His look of incomprehension quickly faded to be replaced by a feeling of guilt so crushing that all he could only verbalise it with a wounded howl of despair. All he would say was “I’m sorry, Dougal, I’m so sorry. I could have saved them.” I just looked at him and told him there was nothing he could have done. Looking back, it’s odd: I had just lost both my parents and was watching my home burn to the ground and there I was trying to comfort a passer-by who was almost a stranger to me. “I could have saved them.” He said again quietly. He pointed his sword towards the flames. His body seemed to glow again with some hidden fire and the flames eating at the wooden beams of the house started to shrink and twist into themselves. Callun’s body was shaking with the effort but, second by second, the flames disappeared until all that was left was the smoking, charred remains of our home. Exhausted by the effort of his eldritch contest, he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Then he raised himself unsteadily to his feet and went inside the still smouldering building. Moments later Callun returned to tell me that he had found them both and that they had met their end in each other’s arms. We buried them as we found them: together.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Dougal started to relax; the worst of the tail now told. He turned to look at his brother again and continued his narrative. “Even though I tried to stop him, Callun swore an oath. He swore that he would never again allow those that he had the power to help die because of his own desire for glory and more specifically that he would never allow anything to hurt our family again. He said that he had failed us once, but he would not do so again. Our friendship started that night - he was only a year or two older than me at sixteen summers and as news of the night’s events became known the those who held power, so did his rise through the ranks of the warband. Amren ordered that the rest of the Dokkaebi were hunted down, Callun always at the head of the hunters, and that the events of the night were kept quiet.”
“Oh, Dougal.” Sniffed Gryffin. “I’m sorry that I made you relive such a horrible night. If I’d have known I would have never asked.”
“You have the right to know the full story.” Dougal said. “You will be a man soon and there should be no secrets between us. Now that you know, how do you feel?”
“I’m not sure.” Gryffin admitted. “It all happened such a long time ago that it feels like you are telling me someone else’s story, not my own. I’ve so few memories of Ma and Pa that, in truth, you and Bronty are the only family I’ve ever known.” He fell quiet for a while as he tried to organise his thoughts. Dougal did nothing to rush him.
“They stole them from me, didn’t they?” He finally said, “They stole all the memories that I should have had and all those that I would still be making. They took them all when they burned down the house and killed our parents. They had no right to do that to us, did they Dougal. They had no right whatsoever.” Gryffin gave his brother a cold half smile. “I think that I will need to think this over. I have mourned the memory of my parents for years and have come to accept their absence from my live. I will not mourn them again. Yet I think that if I ever get a Dokkaebi trained down the length of an arrow, I would not miss. I cannot mourn them, but I will surely avenge them. Does that sound stupid?”
“No, it doesn’t sound stupid.” Dougal reassured him. “But for you it is revenge for two phantoms of what should have been, whereas for me it is something more real. To me it seems as though it was all yesterday - the screams of battle, the silence, the smell of woodsmoke. I am sure that it is the same for Callun as well, although we do not speak of it openly anymore. He still feels the guilt of not being there to help us and I feel an unpayable debt for being there to save my life and yours.” He lapsed into silence for a while. “It is funny, is it not, how the same event can cause such a variety of emotions in different people. I think the sense of failure he felt that night has made him a better man and a better Eron than he may otherwise have been. It has taught him the limitations of power and that there is sometimes a price to be paid for its misuse. He has a great future in the Six-tribes, whether he desires it or not.” Dougal shrugged his shoulders, then changed the topic of conversation to try and lighten the mood. Between the two of them they tried to think of all the alterations that they would have to make to the cabin as the baby began to grow older. Soon laughter rolled out across the fields as they turned their homely cabin into a palace fit for the new addition to the family.
