The Elder Origins
Authors: Bre Faucheux
Dedication
To my mom and dad, who believed in my writing long before I did.
PROLOGUE
Fall 1346
Eastern Coast of Future North America
Two miles from the Atlantic Coast
Native American Vam-pyr-ei-ak Tribe
Smoke stirred through the elderly man’s hands
. He manipulated it with his every movement. It seeped inside of his tall black deer skinned tent, blending with the night air surrounding it. The two men inside held their eyes shut, communicating with the life inside the surrounding forest. The smoke and mist before them mingled with the fire and seemed to penetrate each breath Kuruk took. He breathed it in, embracing the visions it gave him.
His people revered him for this purpose. As chief he was expected to care for their
well-being, which was why he only trusted his son with what he was planning. Kuruk’s thoughts regarded the distant future, not the present. His long years amongst his people gave him the authority to make decisions that no one else could or would question. The “Elders” as he and his son were called, were respected and feared. Their habits were unnatural, and yet they were created from the Earth. They took from life, but preserved the lives of others.
Kuruk opened his eyes and gazed upon his son.
“Is it still so,” asked He Lush Ka. “Do you still sense the white men approaching?”
Kuruk did not immediately respond. He sighed a deep breath and allowed the mist to dwindle into nothing. The fire remained, but the fumes went upwards towards the opening of the tepee. He no longer braided it through his hands.
“You know what you must tell our people,” said Kuruk. “They are to know only what we want them to. No more.”
“Yes, father. They are to know that the white men are coming, and our future must not be determined by their greed. They will pillage our lands and bring an onslaught of disease.”
“Which we know is true,” his father said.
“But not the whole truth.”
“Indeed,” said Kuruk, now looking at his son with full confidence in his choice of action. “They will come, but this small group to approach next spring, they are not of the larger oncoming. Our people must
not
know that. Otherwise, our future will only be determined by darkness. Now repeat it to me again. I need to know that you understand completely.”
Kuruk stopped to look at his son. His confidence in his son’s ability to keep silent on the matter was unwavering. But he needed to hear him say it once more.
“This small group of white men is approaching our lands to seek refuge. But a larger group that cannot be stopped will come in time. Our people are to believe that this smaller gathering of white men is of the larger coming,” said He Lush Ka.
“And what must be done of them?”
“They must turn on their own. Only if we destroy the white men will our future be protected,” said He Lush Ka.
“We must consider the well-being of our people in the future, and not only in the present. Do you understand that many of our people will die in this pursuit?” asked Kuruk.
“Yes, I do.”
“And you understand that it
is for the better?” Kuruk took his son’s hand, allowing him to penetrate his emotions through touch. He trusted in his son’s silence, and there were no secrets between them. Their guiding words had kept their people safe for generations. And now their words were destined to become the decline of many of their own people. But the understanding was mutual. Sacrifice a few, and perhaps save many.
He Lush Ka stood and left the tall enclosure. He beckoned for those outside waiting to approach. Their warriors were ready for what was to come without knowing what they
were truly preparing for. The Elders only meditated for such long periods when a critical decision was being made.
“There is no need for your weapons, men. At least not yet,” he said to them. “But there is a danger we must speak of. My father and I have sensed a future that we must stop before it consumes us all. Do you remember the stories my father told as you grew int
o men? The stories of how your Elders, including myself, came into being?”
They nodded. Others began to look onward, and He Lush Ka made certain that his voice could be heard by all.
“There are people coming to our lands who must suffer the same fate.”
“They are to become Elders
?” one asked.
He Lush Ka stopped and looked at the man solemnly, then spoke. “They are to become a reflection of what happens to men who take life in the pursuit of surviving it.”
1
Winter 1347
English Coast
The height of the Hundred Year War between France and England
Madison was awoken by a coarse smell permeating the air around her. The screams quickly followed. But they were faint, as if they were a distance away. Reaching for her cloth shoes, she quickly placed them on and thrust herself from bed. Jamison was not in the bed directly across from her. Her brother was not even in the cottage. She cried his name but heard no response. Madison touched the handle of the door. It was warm. She had grown used to everything her hands touched being ice cold by this time of year.
Chaos ensued when she emerged from the small confines of her home. Fire was nearly everywhere. Her cottage had not yet been touched by it, but it was only a matter of moments.
“Jamison!” she cried. Lifting her long night dress from the knee, she ran forward and cried his name again. She was only greeted by people yelling all around her. Two children ran passed her. She turned around and saw several people running for the woods nearby. Men grabbed their small children in their arms, their wives in tow beside them.
Madison loo
ked forward again. She saw the cause immediately. There were men on horseback. Their armor gleamed from the light of the fire, giving them a nearly demonic appearance. The people who had just emerged from their cottages as she had were slain with swords before they knew what was happening. These men were everywhere with torches, throwing them on every home they could find. Madison had heard that the battles were growing closer, but she never imagined that they would be so bold as to attack villagers nearby. Jamison told her that war was meant for the battlefield, and that armies should never engage in war upon townships and the innocent. Regardless of whether it was noble to keep the fighting from the local towns, these men were not men of honor.
Madison watched, completely frozen in place. People she had known her entire life were either running or laying upon the ground bleeding. She had never seen so much blood. A few bodies had caught fire. She began to cough from the fumes and looked all around, still unable to move her legs. Her cottage was now on fire behind her. The wood and clay cracked and crumbled before her eyes.
She wanted to cry out for Jamison again, but feared that these men would spot her. Her eyes began to seethe. She covered them and nearly buckled from the lack of air. Her lungs burned from inside her.
Before her hands could reach the ground beneath her, a sharp pain struck her shoulder. Jamison grabbed her arm and threw her backward. He was nearly dragging her before she picked up her feet and began to run. He led her to one of the cottages that had seen the least of the fire. It was the stables. He took her inside and went for his
horse. The porcelain white creature had nearly broken the rope that tied her to the side bar of the stables. She reached for the roof with her hooves and made an awful sound in panic. Jamison reached for the ropes and pulled her down. The horse showed a slight hint of calm when she saw Jamison. He quickly untied her and leapt upon her back. Madison still could not move unless forced. Jamison reached down, grabbed for her below the waist and brought her upon the horse behind him. He forced her to wrap her arms around him and held them there for a moment, making sure that she was securely attached. As tight as she had gripped him on their past rides, she never held on as tight as she did now.
Jamison yelled at the horse, and led her out the back of the stable. Not even seconds after they had left, it too caught fire. Madison shut her eyes to everything around her. The sounds were enough to create a stain on her memory. Jamison made the horse run faster than he had ever pushed her. But the animal recognized the urgency was immediate. Madison knew it had been aching to run since before Jamison had reached her. The wooded trail he and Madison had ridden through so many times was abandoned. People had scattered everywhere else and the men on horses ran after them. Only Jamison knew these woods well enough to run through them in the dark completely unbothered. Men from behind shouted in French, or at least Madison had thought it was French. She had heard the language before, but it was unknown to her. She had no preconceived judgments of the people until this moment. She had been told to hate them by everyone. Only Jamison had told her not to hold such sentiments against an entire people, and that it was only the armies that fought amongst each other that deserved such blame. She wondered if he still thought so now.
Madison’s eyes quickly began to throb from holding them shut so tightly. She opened them only to see Jamison’s tunic, her head lodged deep into his back. She lifted it long enough to see the distance they had travelled. They were coasting the seashore. Jamison ran the horse on its sands, making it through the mile of thick woods quicker than he ever had.
The horse suddenly stalled, crying out in disbelief that his master wanted to go farther. Madison only saw for a second what was before them when the horse went onto his hind legs, refusing to push forward. Dozens of wooden ships grazed the sea in the distance. There were men scattered everywhere along the beach only hundreds of feet away. More men in armor clamored on their horses on the beach’s rocky sands. They were heading in their direction. Jamison doubted that they had been seen, but these were not men that would see the distinction between those from a local township, and those wearing enemy armor.
“Allez,” a man yelled repeatedly in the distance. “Allez, vite!”
The more the man in front yelled, the more men gathered behind him and rode their horses onward.
Jamison tightened the reigns of his horse and led her backwards. He had no idea which direction was the right way to go. He took the horse to the left and ran her into the woods once more. He had only ever known the trail back to the village, but this time he led her off the path and directly into the woods where they had never ventured.
Madison heard the men coming from behind. Now they had been spotted. Jamison had no notion of where these thick woods would lead, but he knew that they were the only available option.
Horses came closer from behind. Jamison led them rightward, trying to throw them off their trail. Even though he could hardly see anywhere but a few feet in front of him, the horse seemed to know what lay ahead. She leapt over heights of fallen trees that Jamison did not know her capable of reaching. Madison could hear the men from behind being told something, but could not make sense of it. She only hoped that the horses from behind were too cowardly to make such leaps.
When they reached the edge of the woods, a light greeted them. It was their neighboring village only a short distance away. Jamison often went there to trade, but had no idea that these woods would lead there. He plowed the path near the cottages, yelling for the men who were not even out of their beds yet. His voice attracted attention quickly and men emerged with their wives behind them, still in their night gowns and caps as Madison was. Her auburn hair trailed down the length of her back now, loosened by the horse’s fast pace.
“Awaken, all of you!” Jamison yelled.
The to
wn’s priest emerged from his lodgings. Jamison had known him many years, but he looked at him as though he were a strange intruder.
“What is the meaning of this,” the priest said hastily, seeing Madison gripping his back as tight as she could. The horror on her face and her disheveled hair spoke volumes.
“They are here. The French burned our village to the ground. We lost them in the woods, but they will find this place, I assure you,” said Jamison, his voice reaching heights that even startled Madison. Normally calm and composed, Jamison’s voice now scorched her ears, demanding everyone’s attention. More people came out of their cottages and stared at him.
“Leave, all of you! Now! They destroyed our home, they will come for yours next. They already have the lands west and south
of here. Head north. Take your children and run.”
“This war is between the gentility, not us,” said a man from behind. “The lords can take care of their own affairs.”
“In a matter of moments, sir, it will become your affair,” said Jamison. He took the horse’s reigns tighter in his hands and thrust her forward.
Madison saw
only open space. They were headed toward a valley. Herds of sheep that had bedded down for the night began to stir as the sound of hooves approached them.
It was a long time before Jamison slowed the horse and allowed her a break. He took Madison’s hands and broke them free from his waist. He slowly descended and took her into his arms. He did not let her go when she reached the ground. Holding her close, he felt her heart racing from under her garments.
There was nothing for him to say, no comforting words to give her. He only held her. That was all he could do. Their new reality was not yet realized; only the knowledge that their home was gone.
Madison knew no haven they created for themselves would ever feel safe again.
