Amensol's Shadow: Genesis

##### The first Tale of the Unseen Pillar of the House of Amensol

“Please… help!” The snow fell in large clumps all around the old man and his grandson.  Every tent and makeshift shelter were already filled to capacity.  After a full week of blistering cold, it was all a man could do just to stay alive, let alone having the strength and the resources to provide a proper roof over the head of his family.  Some had been better off than others after the great Collision that brought his kin from Vas Demith to this frozen wasteland.  Everything was chaotic; the struggle for food and cover, the searching for what family may have made it from the homeland, the lack of governance in the wake of the madness.  Even the weather itself had set its mind to bring suffering to the new tenants of what would later be discovered as Terminus, the new earthen home of the humans.

“For Ossari, I have a boy!”  The old man’s words were met not by indifference, but by dismissal and avoidance coupled with regret.  At this time, everyone had to look out for their own households first.  The man stumbled through the deepening snowbanks filling up in between the rough dwellings noticeably put up in haste.

The Collision that brought what survivors there were from their own lands to Terminus had brought the nearby seas to roiling, heating earth and sea with fire and friction.  Anyone catching a glimpse of a shoreline was met with the strangest sight, clouds seeming to rise straight out of the waters and into the heavens.  And in a winter this cold, a warm sea and a chilled air meant a devastating winter for all who lived through it.  There had never been such a catastrophic season of bitter wind, heavy snowfall, and panic.

The old man made his way through the village of sorts with no calls to join in someone else’s respite.  At the edge of the camp, he noticed a cluster of evergreen trees had been shoved out of their earthly homes and laid in heaps of twisted branches and debris.  He cleared a path as best he could, assisting the very young boy with him over the higher obstacles and through the deeper snow piles.  After what seemed like an hour, he managed to clear some space underneath an interlocked canopy of branches that had kept the ground under it as dry as could be expected given the circumstances. The meek bundle of skins and woven cloth he had managed to scavenge was just enough to keep him and the boy from freezing in the dark.  The boy, exhausted and hungry, fell asleep in his lap.

The sun made a welcomed appearance at dawn.  The leader of this disparate bunch of lost souls woke from his tent of finely woven wool and hurried outside to take stock of what new tragedies were awaiting him after the nights intense cold and snow.

“Amensol, I have finished a round of the encampment,” a weathered, thick chested warrior burst out at sight of the leader.  “It seems that as bad as the night was, we are no worse for wear.  No dead have been counted so far, and I believe we have reached everyone.”

“Finally, some good news,” Amensol replied without slowing down.  He looked around, taking note of damage to the dwellings caused by last night’s storm.  “Have we found any new survivors since yesterday morning?”  It seemed each day brought a new man, woman or child who had fought through the elements to finally find like kin.  It had been going on for weeks now.  The largest part of the Human camp had been brought together relatively quickly, being mostly together from the day of The Collision.  Some were not so lucky.

The rugged old warrior continued his report, “No, none that I could tell.  We put out the word but had no takers for registration. If any are still out there, I don’t have hope they will make it to us at all unless this weather improves; if the weather in this Ossari-forsaken place is ever any different.”

“Aye, this indeed is a cursed frost,” Amensol said mostly under his breath.  Amensol had not found his younger brother in the weeks since their arrival, and he had feared the worst from the beginning.  “We need to use this blessing to the fullest.  Gather as many able-bodied men as you can spare from the hunting parties to help gather resources to fortify the shelters.  I will not be beaten by a gentle breeze and a cool spell.  The gods themselves will have to come down and kill me before I give in to these tribulations.”

Amensol’s pace quickened as his tenacity kicked in. So did the pace of his second as the old warrior slid in beside him, meeting his resolve.  An almost unrecognizable grin flashed briefly across his face as he followed beside his leader.

Amensol’s ability to meet the challenges of life as a man meets his enemy on a field of battle was his most endearing quality.  Some men boasted of their accomplishments, or of their might. Some men goaded others with snark or insults. But Amensol bet on his ability to withstand and overcome any adversity set upon him. Men followed him because there was a genuineness about it; his words brought about his actions, not stood in the place of them.  His positivity was not fake or an over-brandishing but felt sincere.  He made the men around him feel they could pull down mountains or raise them up.  The camp’s knowledge of Amensol prior to the Collision, knowledge of anyone, was never remarked on, nor would it have mattered. Kings could become paupers, and vagabonds rulers during such an unsettling time.  Everyone knew it without saying as much.  If it weren’t for the harshness of the first winter on Terminus, the pomposity and lust for power would have likely torn rifts in humans, and countless factions would have devoured each other in the cavity of a lost power structure.  Self-preservation kept most people’s attention enough to keep out any derisiveness.  While most all were worried about today, Amensol was confident of today and planning for what comes after.

A young man came running as best he could through the white powder in the middle of camp. He seemed to Amensol to be happier than the current situation would require.

“Sir, I have news!”

“That’s quite obvious to us,” Amensol shot back, glancing over at his leftenant.  “Speak on, son.”

The young man hesitated for a second, puzzling over whether Amensol was joking or not.  He decided he was so he continued, “So, this may be the best encampment yet.  Down at the end of camp is literally an entire felled forest.  I was thinking it might be due to the Collision and everything.”

“You have the gift of perception, son,” Amensol said, now just enjoying goading him on.

The young scout continued, “Yeah, so there should be enough timber there to keep fires burning for months and to build permanent structures.  Half of them are even already stripped from the destruction!” The scout seemed especially proud to bear this news to his leader.

Amensol motioned with his finger for the boy to come closer.  The old warrior flashed another slight grin, obviously delighting in the conversation as much as Amensol.  Amensol put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and asked,” Son, how many eyes do you have?

The scout shrugged,” Well, two, sir…”

“And how many did you use to find such a treasure," Amensol continued.

“Both, I guess,” he said as if trying to pass a test.

“Well, then,” Amensol said, “Let that be a lesson to you. Never enlist half or less of what you have, lest you have less than half of what you could, more or less.” At this, the quiet warrior burst out in a jolly bark, before retreating back to his stone-faced gaze.

“Um, yes, sir,” the scout said completely confused.

Amensol smiled warmly at him and said,” Please, sir, take me to your two-eyed treasure, since there seems to be too much for just one.”

Down the progressively worn path thru the center of the camp and down the knoll from there, it was, in fact, as the scout had told them.  Amensol sent the scout back up with his companion to begin gathering men for the harvest. As the men left his presence, Amensol began walking down the hill closer to the nest of fallen trees.  As he walked, a solitary beam of sunlight danced off some object buried in the pile of arbor.  Amensol climbed through and over branches to unmask the treasure.  As he approached, his eye spotted a young boy laying in a hollow spot at the bottom of the pile.  Fearing the worst, he slid faster over and under trying to reach the poor boy when he was frozen by a low, gruff voice.

“Stop!”

It was then that Amensol noticed the boy was not alone but was laying on a man covered with brown fur trappings.  His hair was white, his cheeks depressed, and the weary look to his eyes conveyed to Amensol that this man’s turmoil most likely did not begin at the Collision, but had merely followed him here from his previous life in Vas Demith.

“Take no more steps,” the man cried. His eyes peered into Amensol’s. Then Amensol followed the old man’s eyes slowly down and onto the leaf and snow-covered ground at the old man’s feet.  There it was, what appeared to be a white colored adder coiled and irritated by the unwelcome visitors.

“I need you to take the boy,” the old man slowly pointed to a branch in the higher ground around to his left. There was a branch where one could lean over and just reach down far enough to pass the child up.

As Amensol worked his way quietly around to the side, he tried to ease the old man. “So, what’s your name, Uncle?  How long have you and the boy been alone out here?”

The man answered, “We found the encampment last night. We have been wandering for some time now.  My grandson is all I have left. I just need him to survive. Please, be careful. Please.”

“Don’t you worry, Uncle. We will get you both out just fine.  Almost there,” Amensol almost whispered, stepping very purposefully around the slippery bark stripped branches surrounding the small alcove. The white snake seemed uninterested in all but the old man laying at his doorstep. Every slight squeak coming from Amensol’s shoes made the snake flinch ever so slightly. “So, you didn’t tell me your name.”

“I will tell you once we are free. I have no need for your name, Amensol of Vas Demith. I know you well, indeed,” the old man said cryptically. At this he took his gaze off the trouble in front of him and gazed into Amensol. Amensol stopped his progress, froze by the weight of the man’s words. He continued,” Ah, yes, there he is. The real Amensol.  Will we see him again, or no more?”

Amensol remained still, staring at the only man since the Collision who seemed to know, or to care. At that moment, the boy who had been asleep until now began to stir.  The adder raised up higher at the new movement and sound, and bobbed backward slightly.  Seeing the tension raise, Amensol continued his climb around the side of the trees. Once in place, the old man comforted the boy, shushed him, and told him to not move as he was hoisted into the air and into the waiting hands of Amensol.

Amensol grabbed the boy and slowly swung him over the side of the trees and as stealthily as he could, lowered him onto the ground outside and scurried him up the knoll away from danger.  The old man waited patiently with the snake still poised. Amensol made his way back in no time and rejoined the mix from the side of the alcove, back up on the branches.

“Alright, it’s your turn, Uncle.  How should we do this?” Amensol asked. The man was too far below the top branch to be grabbed and hoisted over from the top like the boy. Besides, it would be too slow to get him out without startling the vicious snake.

“All this for nothing. I bet that snake isn’t even venomous,” Amensol retorted. It didn’t seem to lighten the mood as he had hoped.  He needed to get a better look at what the situation was in order to formulate his plan. “Okay, I’m going to climb up to the top here and stand up so I can assess what we need to do here.”

Amensol began climbing, quietly and deliberately. The peeking sun had brought a break in the bitter cold wind this morning and some snow was beginning to melt, making the smoother trunks and branches much slicker. He reached the top of the barrier and set his feet on it. The top branch there was only about 6 feet off the ground, but the old man was sitting in a reclined position and could in no way reach Amensol’s hand for sure if he was leaning over the side. Amensol’s head swam with scenarios, none of them good. He had to keep the mood light while he was figuring this out.

“So, apparently you know me,” Amensol said, hoping to learn the old man’s intentions with the knowledge of his past. “Do I know you?”

“You have no reason to know of me, Master Amensol,” the old man replied. “The boy, on the other hand, has a much different answer.”

Amensol’s face turned to steel. “What is the boy’s name?”

“Oh, we mustn’t call people names, now mustn’t we?” the old man quipped, returning no emotion.

“Sir, what is that boy’s name?” Amensol was turning desperate, his heart racing and pulling his focus from his task at hand.

“I think you might know it, dear Amensol…” the man said, his voice lowering.

“Tell me his name!” Amensol raised his voice, dreading the answer he already knew.

The old man paused, waiting for Amensol to answer himself who the boy was. No answer came. “Very well,” he said.

Just then, a supporting branch slipped just enough under Amensol’s weight to throw him off balance and he slid into the hole with the old man and the serpent.  The old man, focus full on the adder, slid his legs around the side of Amensol’s calves just in time for the uncoiling snake to sink his teeth into his worn flesh. Searing pain washed over his body, and he let out a roar. At that, a rustle in the woods surrounding produced a nest full of the white snakes, drawn by the cry of the old man. Amensol scrambled to try to regain footing from the inside of the hollow, but in his mental frenzy, he could not regain his composure.

The old man, through his suffering, deduced his life was forfeit.  He could feel the poison working its way through him immediately. Amensol had to be saved, there was no other way and he knew it.  He only knew to do things as he was trained…

Amensol suddenly heard the old man’s voice go deep, as if it rumbled in his bones.  The rustling of the snakes was drawing closer and he knew his time had expired. But the rumbling…

The old man let out a cry with a fist to the ground. Time seemed to stop for a second to Amensol. A sensation like the surf sucking you farther in ran over his body. For a moment it seemed to him as if he were floating. He met eyes with the old man in that instant; the old man in a roar, his face distorted with the force of a thundering wind on open seas, his fist seeming to penetrate the ground where he sat. The power of the doomed man was explosive, and as quickly as that moment came, it was gone. Amensol felt the full force of the old man’s spell as his body was thrown into the air, over the branches and three cubits to the outside, away from the incoming danger.

Amensol regained possession of his senses in time to see the onslaught of at least 30 adders rush into the nesting place. However, the force of the old man’s magic had created a flame in the bowels of the wooden cave. As if motivated by the melting snow, the whole nest went up like a tinder box, consuming man and snake alike. And Amensol looked on.

Returning with some laborers, Amensol’s companion rushed to the side of his staggering friend as he watched their future burn.

“By the gods… what happened here, Amensol,” the warrior gasped.  But a moment earlier they were speaking of gathering all the resources of this gifted find, and now nothing would be left. “How did a fire start here, in the midst of all this snow?”

Amensol still looked on. A million thoughts raced through him all at once and none with resolution. A million questions poured over him and none with final answers, only suggestions. After several minutes of watching the flames lick high into the air, he finally was able to force out some words.

“I… found a boy.  In the trees.  I rescued him.” Amensol’s friend stared, still stunned by the shocking, and tragic, turn of events still this early in the morning. The boy was in fact laying up the side of the knoll heading back to camp, in the snow, saying not a word. Amensol continued,” There… were snakes.  A nest.  We can’t…”

“Snakes? In this ferocious winter? And fire? In this snow? If I hadn’t seen this with my own eyes, I’d have said you were mad for sure.”

Amensol slowly was regaining some composure.  He still could not explain all that had happened to his friend.  He still could not explain it all himself.  So many questions still unanswered, but the boy was the key.  He had to quench his suspicions. But all in due time.  Nobody else seemed to be asking any questions that pertained to their old lives, and for now, that was necessary.  Things needed done now, and he needed to bide time until he could get answers from the boy.

“Yes,”Amensol finally spoke up,” snakes, flames, refugee children. It’s a story that will have to wait for now.  This has set us back.”  Amensol turned and faced back toward the camp and his pace slowly gained until he was at least pretending to be as single-minded as he had been earlier that morning. “We can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. The mountains at our doorstep are bringing nothing but misery.  We should head west, try to find some better situations, and hopefully, some other intelligent inhabitants in this Cursed Frost.”

As he passed by the boy, still sitting in the snow where he had left him, he held out his hand for the young child, to help him up.  And the child took it.