A Tale of Two Brothers (Reference Title Only, it's going to change soon.)


The night was cold outside. Inside the house was warm and peaceful, a seeming far step from what lay just through the walls. Inside their room, the two boys slept, their father and mother looking over their inert forms. The Father looks at the Mother.

“You know it’s time for me to leave. The Call grows.”

The Mother said no words to the Father. Her quiet, hard silence gave all the response the Father would ever get. After trying further, unsuccessfully, to coax words from his wife, the Father slowly moved down the hallway. He looked with longing back at his wife. She never looked back at him, her gaze resting somewhere over her sleeping children. The Father knew how close she was to crying, and longed to go back, to comfort her, to stay with her, to let her have this one night where the desires of her and the family outweighed those of the Call. He turned back down the hallway. Such niceties were never to be had for one such as him.

Down the stairs he walked, his hand sliding down the ornate banister as he went. Looking about, he saw all the familiar scenes of their home. Though built well and speaking a little of wealth, it was rather modest for them. Not that old, its design was strong and large, yet cosy. The furnishings reflected this same homely quality. Oak chairs with inbuilt cushions, the table-top shining with a thick coating of varnish, with just a few small intricacies in their design to make them look pleasant, they were uncommon among the poor perhaps, but not so hard to come by. The portraits of his family and paintings of scenery hung about the room. Getting the portraits commissioned had been such a pain, the Father remembered fondly. The fuss that the children made for the painter didn’t make things easier either. He came to the door. Sturdy, but plain, it was an unmarked portal, leading from his slightly embellished and comfortable house, to the outside. The man took a deep breath. He stepped through the door and seemed to be sucked into the abyss of the world outside the walls of his confine. So quickly has the man gone that the door has been left open. It shut by itself, sealing the inside from the night once more.

                                                               *


The Mother finally breaks down where she was standing. Collapsing into her boys’ room, she half crawled, half stumbled back out into the hallway, and into her bedroom. With an effort, she heaved her body into bed, shuddering with grief. Her husband was gone once again. This was the last they would ever see of each other.

Spending the better part of an hour harshly sobbing, the Mother eventually started recovering. A strong woman, she would never usually allow herself to weep so much, but the feeling she had of losing her husband was more keen this night then it ever was before. Her sorrow not quite smothered by her crying into the bed, she forced her thoughts back onto her children. Only five years old, the youngest was definitely a bright one. Strong and quick, he was a nice child, though too observant for his own good in this family. The eldest, who was seven years old, had strength. Growing up quickly, he was an ambitious child, which seemed a trait all too common in their extended family. Suddenly, her sullen musings were broken.

Noises started coming from the darkness. The windows of her room rattled about wildly and the Mother glanced up. There was no way of seeing far out into the gloom so the Mother sees nothing outside. Her unease builds at the shifting window though. The rattling continued upon other openings of the house. Too purposeful to be the wind, window after window shook. There was a thump upon the back door. The doors were usually locked when the family was inside.

All has happened too fast for the mother to have done much more than leap out of her bed. She moved quickly down the hallway, trying to secure the house. It was too late though. With a few more shaken windows along the side of the house, the noise outside ended up at the front door. The front door the Father had not locked behind him. Smoothly, the door’s mechanisms clicked, allowing access without complaint. Opening silently, the cold night air spilled in with the intruder. This cold air was all the Mother had time to feel as she reached the bottom of the steps. Her eyes widened, as in the instant she found the intruder, her throat was torn out. She had no chance of making a sound, as she fell to the floor, her lifeblood pooling upon the fine wooden planks she once walked so often.

The intruder brought back its lips. The wild smile it now sported, it held, as it made the first step onto the stairs. A rare creak of wood issued from where the intruder walked. Its smile dropped. It spun around, just in time to meet in mid-air the monster that has leaped the few metres from the doorway to the stairs. The intruder had been expecting the monster to return after the children were dealt with. This didn’t stop the intruder from bringing up claws to try skewer the flying beast. The wordless snarls as the two creatures met were filled with malice. The plain door closed without incident behind them, once again closing the bridge between inside and outside.

The beast grabbed the claw offered for it. Still in mid-air with insane speed, the monster bent the intruder’s arm ninety degrees between the elbow and the wrist. Bone broke with a crisp, loud snap, and the monster collided with the intruder. Both tried to bite each other, but the force of the monster’s leap let it rip into its opponent’s shoulder, making the arm that was broken even more useless. The intruder kicked the monster off it, parts of its flesh came off with it but that was expected. Around them, the room started to fade black and light grew in the eyes of the dark being as it stared at the monster. The monster, still moving quickly, landed before charging in again with its fist swinging. The intruder scratched across the fist as it stepped aside, off the staircase, over where the dead woman lay. With a longing gaze at the dead body as it did so, the monster rushed the intruder once again. Light built to a blinding state in the eyes of the intruder, and released as twin beams of energy at the monster. Carving downward, the beams of light separated the offending arm of the monster from its body at the shoulder. The arm continued with its momentum though, the grisly object thudding into the intruder’s chest with such force as to have sunk into its body. With more distinct shrieks of fury and a roar of loss from the two, they streaked towards one another, once again closing in a deadly flurry of movement.

Cuts and tears were scored by both, but with a reach around manoeuvre of its one arm, the monster grappled with the intruder, lifting the dark one into the air. With incredible strength, the terrible creature threw the intruder into the far wall, near the ceiling. Broken, the dark one bounced off the wall with lethal force. Before the light in its eyes could go out though, it let out one final dual-stream of light at the monster, dying with this last attack before it could hit the floor. Though weaker than last time, the light still carved deep into the chest of the monster. The victor watched in pain as its foe fell and stilled upon the floor before falling to its knees, coughing out blood. The gore coming out of the many wounds of the beast showed to all that it did not have long left for this world. Crawling over to the cooling body of the Mother on its one remaining arm and two knees, the monster shook with strain. Gripping her ruined throat in its mouth, the terrible creature made a final effort. Lifting itself back onto its feet, the corpse carried in its maw, it staggered over to a small bock in the corner of the room. On it was the most rare and expensive device in the house, the telephone. The severed mess that was once the monster carefully dropped the body and picked up the receiver. The phone never rang, and could only link to one other telephone. The line opened and the monster spoke in a deep, thrumming voice.

“It is done. The time has come.”

Whatever reply might have come, the monster was spending too much of its effort on leaning on the wall with its remaining arm to try listen to the receiver. With a gurgle and a look at the ceiling, the monster fell. Turning its head, the last thing it saw before death took it were the still eyes of the Mother…

                                                                  *

The youngest boy opened his eyes suddenly. No sounds were to be heard in the house. All was as well as could be expected.

The weather was warm and pleasant, a fine summer day that he had spent napping upstairs. Ten years had past since the murder of his mother and the disappearance of his father, but still things never did seem right in Liam's life. After getting changed, he moved down the hallway and down the stairs. The noises of his steps seemed to echo dully within the house. The house was not the muffling sorrow of a house of neglect, but no warmth ever came from the house now. Moving over the stains upon the floorboards, Liam went out the front door to greet the world.

Being afternoon, his brother, Brendan, and his grandmother, Janice, were already outside. Enjoying the day, in their own strange way. Brendan smirked as he came near.

"Oh, you're up now? But it's nearly night again! Why don't you just go back to bed now and try for tomorrow?"

Liam smiled at this. While his brother aimed for insult, his knavish way was the norm, and they had a brotherly camaraderie despite their differences. Such was never so with his grandmother.

"Look, he’s up and moving about like he hasn't wasted the day! Such a great show of maturity from the Boy. He misses any chance of following the day's events before coming out at day's end to grace us with his presence. Not that it wasn't expected..."

Liam frowned at his Grandmother's words. Her name for him was The Boy. Only being fifteen, there was technically nothing wrong with her continuing use of the name but it was said in a way that ground upon Liam’s patience. Scowling at his grandmother was his only method of defence. Disrespect would just earn more sarcasm and disapproval from her.

Taking a seat next to his brother he remained mute. Brendan, having fallen silent at his grandmother's words, regained his churlish grin.

"So were you planning on doing anything with the rest of the day?"

Liam looked out across the street that wound around their house and into the trees. It was a clear walk from their part of the village to the dense forest. Looking back upon the small village, which could be seen through the sparse housing that made it, he saw little activity.

"No. The market is the same as always and night will be coming far too early for a walk in the forest. I might just work upon my studies again."

Upon hearing him speak, Janice glared at Liam disdainfully. She was never fond of the effort Liam put into his studies, though it was obvious he was bright. It may have been her own will that both of the boys be tutored, but she did not hold the younger sibling's achievements in high regard. Liam shrugged at his grandmother's reaction. There wasn't much he could do to impress her if she didn't respect him. She seldom showed respect, but for when he had done something with physical results, and never praised him upon it. Spending a moment more in the sun with what passed for close company, Liam got up. Almost as an automatic response to it, his grandmother spoke her old admonishment almost in a monotone.

"Off to read your books again? Make sure you don't leave the library in a mess like you did last time."

Liam grunted in reply. It was a tradition, and the two worked in this fashion as if by rote. He made off towards the house. Brendan called out,

"Hey, just a second brother. I'll join you. I've probably fallen far enough behind in my studies by now."

Liam glanced back at his brother as he got out of his chair. Janice's mild surprise showed a little on her face, but she had no words for Brendan. Brendan was the one Janice showed respect to, it was rare that Brendan would work on his studies with his brother, but it wasn't unheard of. Brendan often did more physical things, but despite his shirking of his studies, he still did passably well. The two brothers walked into the house together, dipping into the eerie shadow of the house interior that never reached out of the door.

                                                                  *

Making their way through the living room and around to a door near the back of the house, they entered the library. Despite being rather modest, as a study room it exceeded its purposes. Arrayed around them were books of all sorts, their parents had been hopeful in the education of the children. Taking out his writing tools, Liam started setting up to write out the necessary work his tutor had left him, but Brendan took a casual seat upon the large desk and waved him down. Liam sat, a little wary, his brother's smile had gone missing again.

"...You know, she doesn't have the right to say those things. We all just put value on different things. She knows that if you really wanted to build things, or go hunting, you would and do it well. She just doesn't like it when you... don't."

Liam smiled. He had long ago come to terms with his grandmother's disposition in dealing with him. He and his brother had had such talks long ago, and now it just seemed a part of his life. There shouldn't have been any need for his brother to talk about this again.

"It's fine, I'm used to it now. If it's to do with you and-"

"No. You know I hold little love for our dear grandmother either, despite her more tolerant stance with me. She is just a rather cold woman, I suppose."

Brendan's eyes were distant, but his words were still directed entirely at Liam. He seldom voiced his own feelings on their grandmother, but Liam already knew what his brother felt about her. Despite their differences, the two were close, after all. Something was on Brendan's mind and he was moving towards it slowly after he made a few familiar passes of discourse. Liam continued with the talk, waiting for the real issue to surface.

"I suppose. Have any events of importance transpired while I was wasting the morning?"

"Nothing special. The village is quiet, the forest is rather empty around here after the Great Hunt went through it, and the days are warm. I'm having as many quiet days as you recently."

"Does this mean you've actually caught up with your studies?"

"Hardly, I'm still a bit behind. You know that I didn't come in here with you to study though. I'll get to the point."

Liam listened a bit more intently now, dropping the pen he was fiddling about with since the start of the short conversation. Brendan wasn't one to be too indirect in bringing forth his thoughts, but the speed in which he felt it was time to bring whatever it was forth was rather quick regardless. It must have been getting to him. Waiting for a couple of breaths, Liam prompted him.

"Yes?"

"Very well. You remember the night our parent's died."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes?"

"I can still remember it clearly. Ten years, and it still comes to the front of my mind regularly."

"I had the dream again this morning."

"I had it too. We did nothing. We hid underneath the blankets when we woke up to crashing. We didn't come out until Grandmother came into the bedroom. The bodies were gone, we never even saw them dead. All we have left of our parents are stains on the living room floor. We didn't even move."

"What could we have done? We were too small, we were right to be afraid. We've been over this before, it wasn't our fault our parents died."

Brendan laughed harshly. It echoed off of the walls of the study. Brendan turned his eyes to Liam. They weren't slightly sad, though he had sounded such. It was a flinty, conspiratorial gaze that Brendan met his brother's eyes with.

"It's not their deaths, we grew used to their absence and our loss. What makes it all the more terrible is the stories we've been told about it."

"You mean Father's disappearance in fighting off the Intruder?"

"Yes, that, amongst other things. A few less visible stains in the living room show that Father fought in the house before taking the fight outside. No blood was ever found outside. Our Mother apparently was struck at the foot of the stairs and moved herself with her last effort to the direct transmission telephone to call Grandmother. The stains tell strange stories there, of unwarranted pools of blood and markings. Especially that handprint on the wall near the phone doesn't look like it could ever have been Mother's, despite how indistinct it might be."

Liam's eyes widened a little. They had discussed such things before, but never before had Brendan been so passionate or direct in his talking about the matter. Brendan continued, not getting any more reaction from his sibling.

"You and I both know tracking. I'm certain you have seen it too. There is no way that Father or the Intruder left the house while fighting. It is unlikely Mother was able to get up from that place at the foot of the stairs. The story about the phone had always been suspicious, Grandmother recalls it slightly different every time. There was more to the cleanup then we were ever told, and the events of that night were certainly different. Even the stains have been rubbed raw, as if to delete them from our eyes."

Liam nodded thoughtfully. There were even more discrepancies between the evidence of that night and the tale they were told then his brother was highlighting. He had always thought of such himself, but if his brother was bringing it up, he had a plan of action. This put a different spin upon their talk then they had ever had before. Liam frowned slightly.

"...So what do we do about it then?"

Brendan smiled for a second. A terrible smile that dropped away quickly.

"They could only have been buried out in the forest. There is little chance of going out there and digging up bodies during daylight hours. We go out during the night and search."

"What!? That's madness! Not only do we have little to no hope of finding them, especially during the night, but there are reasons the forest is not to be entered while it is dark!"

Liam's outburst was sudden, but the village had a strong warning to all of it's inhabitants of the dangers of venturing into the trees when the sun wasn't shining. There were reasons, even Janice was wary of the forest and could only see good sense in avoiding it at night.

"Grandmother must have done it. It can't be that bad. As for the searching... I've been having these... feelings recently. Don't ask me how, but we'll be able to find them, if we only take the risk and go out."

Liam racked his mind quickly for ways around his brother's rash plan. Very little applicable or more viable options came up. It seemed his brother's plan was idiocy, but idiocy was the best option.

"Can't we... just bring this to Grandmother? We can get the information out of Grandmother, make certain of the resting place of our parents if nothing else."

Brendan laughed harshly again, but this time it was a little longer and had a little more warmth to it.

"She lies and lies. She is a cold woman and has been hiding the truth for a decade. She makes it clear in so many ways that she has hidden depths to her character, as much of a crone as she may be. Asking her would be by far more idiotic than my plan. Aren't you meant to be the smart one?"

Liam stared at Brendan for a long time. Minutes passed by with Liam making no more movement than to shake his head slowly and look about before locking eyes with his brother again. Finally, he sighed and nodded. Brendan did not smile. The elder sibling went to to other side of the room, the distant look coming back to him as he fetched his writing tools. Setting up for work near his brother on the desk, Brendan finally spoke vaguely in a way that fit his look.

"So it begins..."