Forgotten

By Fritzy

Hin, the mysterious girl from the small town of Ashes, has been having dreams of a murderer. Lot, the mysterious prince of the city Metta, has been having these same dreams. The only link between the two is a man named Step who never truly seems to be as he appears Hin has to journey to the city to uncover the secret of these dreams and the man named Step. And she must do so before everything is Forgotten...

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468558968

Fritzy

Fritzy wrote this book to tell the dream she had had since her seventh year in school. The idea was originally from a game she programmed, but became so much more than that. Fritzy is a fan of classic film and never wants her imagination to dwindle.

Book preview

Prologue

A dark mist clouded the dreary roads of Ashes. Rain cried from the heavens adding to each sad moment. Then, a long parade of people clothed in the white linens of mourning walked down the cobbled road. In a beautifully arranged coffin, adorned with patterns of lavenders, a young woman lay at rest. Her raven hair was laid out with flowers scattered among it. A peaceful smile surrounded her pale skin.

The caravan of people reached their long awaited destination. A deep grave was dug for the beautiful woman. Each person hummed a tranquil song, letting the departure come more easily. The body was lowered slowly, each moment a memory of the great things she had done and the many struggles she had overcome. The grave was covered and a stone set to mark the resting place of a grand hero. Hin: allow your rest here be as peaceful as mine is there, the stone cryptically read.

The crowd left, drying their tears, but the sky continued to weep. A single person remained, staring at the spot where the woman was buried. His face was covered—either to block the rain or to conceal a secret—with a dark hood. A dark red eye glared passionately at the grave stone. "I have beaten you. And as for you"—he turned to a stone marker next to the one of the woman’s—"I have beaten you twice." His lips curled into a wicked smile while spitting these words.

He lifted his dark hood to gaze once more upon the ones he killed. An evil face stared grotesquely as the rain washed away his smirk. White hair, tainted with death, fell in disarray as the howling wind screamed through the foggy, dark night. He spat on the grave and the disturbing image the man showed on his face quickly twisted into a more calming manner. Once again, he lifted his hood to conceal his wicked features. He began to laugh sinisterly then slowly turned away from the grave, and vanished.

CHAPTER 1

A Stormy Day

Who are you? a young woman asked, trying to grasp at the blackness surrounding her. A low murmuring could be heard around her: like thousands of whispering voices urging her to move forward. Slowly she walked, directionless, fearing what she would find when the voices told her to stop.

She was naked and appeared formless among the obscurity. She was standing in nothingness. The low buzzing of voices echoed in the emptiness; their piercing tone was almost deafening. All around was murkiness: a deep mist barely visible. The woman was cold and felt very alone. The voices began to get louder and more painful to listen to. Go to him. It is only a little farther. He is waiting for you. She covered her ears. The monotonous shouts did not relent. She began to run, trying to escape their torturous demands. Then everything went silent.

The air was so cold. The woman looked around trying to understand what had happened. Again she asked, Who are you? She was afraid. She stood waiting for the dream to end.

Why, you do not know? a shadowy voice answered, sneering. It was not at all pleasant to hear this voice. It was a cold, low, ominous sound. It continued to ring in her head growing more intense as she thought about it. She felt as though she had heard it before, though she could not remember where. The woman looked around trying to find the origin of it. It continued: I am the All-Knowing, the Mighty; I am the one who intends to release an uncontrollable evil unto this world. The deep, evil voice made the woman shudder. He paused, watching the poor woman looking around helplessly and then sardonically snickered, You dare to ask me who I am… ?

The woman felt as though she would begin to cry but kept herself from doing so by biting her lip. She jumped suddenly as thousands of cold, twisted hands broke through the endless ground. They began to wrap their gaunt, grey fingers around her body but she began to run from their freezing grasp. She did not know why she had begun to run or how far she was. She ran until it became too cold to feel her legs or move them. Even then she kept running until she knew the voice of the Murderer and the gnarled hands could not find her. She eventually sat down and closed her eyes and wished for it to all be over. The thousands of voices began again with their insidious words but soon they were inaudible to the woman holding back her tears. Her sobs and thoughts overpowered the noise of the voices. She did not know what to do, how to escape it all.

Long moments passed as she waited for the maniacal intonations to cease. She opened her eyes as the voices miraculously became quieter and quieter. Soon all was still and all was silent. The ringing voices in her head vanished completely. She stood and looked around unsure of what had happened, unsure if all was safe. An image stood before her: a silhouette of a person yet she could not perceive the features of the person. It was a strange sight, though it felt warm. It felt to her like hope, like she was not alone.

The blurred image was indistinguishable. She walked nearer to it and stared at the strange image, circling around it, taking note of each and every detail, in wonderment. It seemed to her as though it were only the shadow of a person. She reached out her hand to touch it but the image was not tangible. Her hand fell through the silhouette and then back by her side. However, she was, after a long moment of staring, able to see its face. It was a face so familiar to her. She knew she had seen it before somewhere. Then it dawned on her; it was the face of…

Hin, are you all right? said a familiar voice. She jumped up, startled at being awoken so abruptly. The image she had seen in her dream, the face on the silhouette was forgotten to her. She could recall every dark and frightening moment, but that face she had forgotten. I’m sorry to have startled you, Hin. She was not scared of this voice that spoke to her now that she was awake. It was calming and soothed the woman. When it spoke she felt safe.

The woman awoke in the familiar room which she almost always woke to. Its presence was warming after her terrible nightmare. The very familiar surroundings made her feel as though she were in her own home. The soft bed in the spare room of the large house she recognized so well sat beneath her and the familiar sunlight flooded the room and a familiar man sat at her bedside, concerned.

Step, she began, still catching up from her daunting dream, I had this dream—she was white in the face and sweat poured from it—about a man who intends to destroy the world. She calmed her rapid tone. She had not a clue what she was even saying. Her mind raced. Several moments were spent trying to recollect the dream’s forbidding sequences. When the woman had fully relayed the dream she had calmed down immensely. She was able to say in a very composed manner, It was only a dream. She sighed and forced a smile feeling that is was so much more than a dream. Everything was so real about it; she felt cold and that fingers grasping at her ankles and the foreboding voice of the Murderer filling her with fright. Then she looked up at the man and insisted, But it is not the first time I’ve had this dream.

Step left the woman’s bedside and paced the floor. His calm grey eyes never left her sight. I know, he said. She gazed at him with adoration—although he seemed as though he was completely oblivious to this. His dark features made him so mysterious. His black hair fell neatly down his back. He was very handsome in Hin’s eyes—though other people might not have thought so. Every part of his face was perfectly arranged as to not show a single fault. One could never tell when he was smiling or not. He always had a blank expression for every occasion. Everyone in the town knew that Hin was in love with him, all except Step himself. A long silk robe adorned his body, giving him a mystical appearance. The deep purples seemed to change to a blue when the light showed upon the robe.

After long moments of useless pacing and time wasting Step ceased and sat in a dark oak chair carved with patterns of vines. He always sat in that chair. Hin knew that it was his favourite chair. She knew everything about him, she thought. She knew that when he sat in the chair he never wanted to be disturbed, and she had learned that the hard way.

She decided to gaze at the nearly bare walls while Step ordered the silence with the use of his furniture. Only one picture hung in the entire room: a painting of a person looking into a mirror. A rather odd picture, Hin had always thought. She could not tell whether it was a depressing image or a happy one. The mood that the picture portrayed always depended on mood of Step.

Despite the room being so empty it was never unpleasant to be there. Hin had thought the room very enjoyable and somewhat cheerful. She could feel warmth from a fire burning in the grate downstairs. The small window that overlooked the town allowed sun to come in and fill the bare walls with light. Below the window Step sat in the decorative chair. He, however, was what made the room complete.

Step, Hin said accidentally, regrettably breaking the peaceful silence of the day. His cold eyes stared out the window. In my dream I saw a face. It was hardly a face, but I recognized it, she stuttered, deploring that she had interrupted him. She looked at him to make sure he was listening. I know I have seen the face before. I just know I have.

Step stared for several minutes more as if thinking. This silence was uncomfortable. Hin shifted her position several times, wondering about her dream and if she had angered Step. Then he turned to face her, though he did not speak. Hin was frozen. She muttered so softly, as though he wanted her to say to him, But every time I wake up I am unable to recall who the face is of. Suddenly Step’s eyes opened wide. He stood up and glared at her angrily. He insolently gestured for Hin to get out of his house and then he proceeded to sit in the chair again and stare blankly out the window. Hin was almost forced to obey. She stood up abruptly and marched out of the room. She did not protest at all but made a point of being upset as she paraded down the stairs in a choir of stampings. All she could do was wonder what it was that she had said that upset Step so, replaying the brief conversation over in her mind trying to remember if she perhaps said something offensive—besides interrupting Step while he sat in his chair. After she dejectedly left the bedroom in tears and exited the house she took a deep breath and calmed herself. He had never treated her so harshly before.

Short buildings—no more than two stories—were scattered randomly among the overgrown grass. Trees were also spread among the woodland town in various spots. Hin could barely tell one house from the next as she travelled through the maze of the town, uphill and downhill, yet she always knew Step’s house. His house was different. It was the largest and no one except Hin ever dared to go near it. It was near the front of the town by the large gate. However, she could not always find her own home.

Small food markets were placed near the gate of the town across from where Step’s house lay. Because the markets were so near his house, people quickly bought what they went out for and returned home with haste. The smell of fresh fruit filled the morning air, though it mixed with the smell of dead animal meat which was not at all pleasant.

Many people were bustling about the town, either on errands or just out for a walk. The small town was always quite noisy. Several men could be heard cutting down trees and felled trees could be seen along the town’s dirt path. However, not many men were about the town on this day. Many were out on their horses—for the stables were empty—hunting for wolves for their pelts or smaller animals for their meat. Several people always seemed to be gathered around the brick fountain near the large oak tree.

The fountain had always been a landmark in Ashes—as well as the tree. No one seemed to remember the fountain ever being built, but they remember that it had only arrived in the town no more than a decade ago. The shady tree, however, had always been there in the town. Hin remembered it since she was little. It was always full of life no matter what season it was, giving endless spring to the town. Stories were told that when the Great Tree dies the town will fall into ruin. Hin could not help but believe these superstitious stories. She was always considered odd by everyone save for Step.

An unusually rainy day filled the small town of Ashes with a lot of disorder. Ashes was a town that never rained, naturally. People were rushing to shade their crops from the rain while others ran to take cover from becoming drenched. Shop owners shaded their crates of food or closed their shop altogether. One woman was running around madly trying to lead her chickens into their pen. Small children splashed in puddles while mothers scolded them. People rushed into their homes and waited for the rain to stop. One girl paused and looked up at Hin. Her face was barely visible in the downpour, but soaking blonde tresses gave the girl a distinct appearance. Hin, however, had never seen this girl before.

Do you live with that man? the girl asked pointing up at the window Step was looking out of.

No, Hin replied rather confused and taken back by the odd question. She continued to talk without thinking, but he is a very dear friend. The young girl gave Hin a visible smirk. Then she said scathingly,

I bet he is… Her voice trailed off as the rain fell harder. Then the girl vanished. For several moments Hin stood in the spot where the girl stood and looked back at where she had run off. She stared vacantly wondering who the girl was and what she meant. The rain had completely soaked her dress and began fading the vibrant blue to a pallid cerulean.

Then a bright flash of lightning disrupted Hin’s trance. She began walking away from Step’s house, looking to find somewhere else to try to remain dry. People scurried to their homes and soon the entire town was empty of people for the exception of Hin. She had not even noticed that the bare paths were completely devoid of people. Looking around she saw a large blurred man urging her to come into a building. Without thinking she complied.

After making her entry she found that she was in the tavern. She had never been in there before, but always saw many of the village folk making their way into the tavern and filing out inebriated or punchy from previously being inebriated. The entire room smelled of sweet smoke, perhaps too sweet. Hin instantly felt nauseous as she inhaled the putrid fumes. A fire burning mismatched timber stood at the far end of the room adding inviting warmth, but also adding a viler stench. Every round, grime coated table was completely full. It seemed that everyone had taken refuge in the bar, waiting until the rain subsided.

The greasy, unshaven man that led Hin in the tavern walked her through the crowds of people. They walked past some of the most revolting people, though none were as hideous as the man who was guiding her. His uneven russet beard and small squinting eyes made him the most repulsive man Hin had ever seen. Deep wrinkles crowded his tightly shrivelled face giving him the appearance of having no eyes. He gave her a putrefied grin exposing his decayed and missing—what Hin thought to be—teeth and sat her at a table with a couple of other people. She looked around the table at a large woman who seemed drunk beyond reason. The woman gave a dissatisfied gesticulation and swore loudly at the sight of Hin, then left the table and slogged her way to the bar counter to sit. Her overly wide hips knocked several people out of their chairs as she made her way to the counter.

Hin stared at the other person at the table. He had his head resting down on the table, a patched brown hood hiding his face. Hin thought he was asleep. Then he spoke, his head still down on the table, Who did you see? His voice was somewhat forbidding. Hin was taken aback, hardly understanding the question; it took her a moment to notice that it was he who was talking.

All she was able to mutter was, What?

Who did you see? the person repeated, his voice steadily began to become demanding. Hin thought it strange that no one else in the entire tavern had noticed this man’s peculiar behaviour. In your dream; the face, he said looking up slightly to reveal his dark, glowing red eyes. He urged her to answer. Hin froze at his cold gaze. Who did you see, girl?

She could only stare. How do you know about… ? she managed to say, stammering. She slowly backed away from the table, almost falling out of her chair. The glare in the man’s eyes was so terrifying she could stand it no longer. She stood, almost disrupting the peace of the surrounding tables. She glared just as coldly back at the man but it did not encumber his concentration. Then she started for the door.

The person called back to her, scornfully, Do not go in the rain. Many bad things happen when one goes in the rain. He began a despicable laugh. Hin gave no notice to this and continued to storm her way towards the door. Many people stared at her as she stood in the doorway for a moment, tears filling her eyes. She wanted her bad dreams to end. She did not want to be reminded of them. The last words she heard him say were, Once you enter the rain, you will never leave…

The rain fell heavy on her head again as she re-entered the dreary day. She looked at the sky and pondered what to do. She could no longer go to Step’s house at the moment—at least until he got over whatever made him angry—and she could not possibly find her own house among the tree-filled town. She continued to look at the rain and cleared her face of even more tears.

Hin knew this unusual weather pattern was caused by Dice, the Master of Weather—or at least that is what he called himself. His small hut was on the Far East side of town, deep into the forest. A small trudge through the mud led her right to the door of the isolated little hut. The tiny brown shack sat idly among the forest’s numerous trees. Large rather dead pumpkins formed a short pathway to the entrance. The logs that appeared to be barely holding the hut together were full of mildew, decaying bark, and various insects unknown to Hin. She did not bother knocking for she knew the old wizard was too senile to answer the door himself. Upon entry, she saw a small desk filled with parchment and a clumsy wizard fumbling with a small orb.

My dear Dice, Hin began in a very helpful manner, you are making Ashes flood again.

Oh, Hin, I did not hear you come in. The old wizard stopped shuffling around with the orb and looked up, squinting. The slow, crackled voice of the wizard made Hin feel very welcome in the small hut. Deep wrinkles outlined the ebullient features of his aged face. He has a large, pointy, wrinkled nose. His creased smile was modest and simple. Small squinting eyes seemed to barely see past the wrinkles in his broad smile. Please, please, take a seat. You are soaking wet; allow me to get you a blanket.

Hin kindly did as instructed and sat uncomfortably in a broken hand-made chair. Dice left the room for a brief moment. She took this time to get a better view of the small house. Maps of distant lands were scattered along the walls. Shelves of books were crumbling with age. Magical devices were scattered around randomly. A shelf of phials was precariously balanced along one of the walls. And anything that did not fit on the wall was scattered along the floor of the hut. The entire room was in disarray. It seemed worse than the outside of the hut. The windows were clouded, and dust coated every inch of the room. The small cabin looked exactly as it had the last time Hin visited. But one thing was amiss: Dice’s apprentice was nowhere to be seen. In such a small cabin, it was quite easy to notice his obvious absence.

Dice came back with a worn, brown blanket. It was far from comfortable and, in Hin’s eyes, was far from even being a blanket. To top it all off it not very warm either. Dark, unexplained stains coated the patched blanket and the smell of rotting fibres filled the room with its presence. Hin kindly accepted it despite all this and wrapped it around her shoulders, knowing she would have to take an extensive bath after touching the decaying thing.

Where is your apprentice? she asked kindly, positioning herself more comfortably on the chair. Dice attempted to change the topic by offering Hin a cup of warm tea, or at least it looked like tea. She quickly declined. Hin had learned—the painful way—never to accept anything of the wizard’s that could possibly be a potion or some sort of concoction. Dice withdrew that grimy grey cup, set it on a broken hand-made table, and decided that he would be forced to answer Hin’s question.

Oh, East, he’s with our visitors. The wizard went back to his orb. A couple of men from Metta travelled here. Apparently they were messengers of the prince asking for my aid in some such matter or something. The old man rambled on, Did you ever hear about the prince? There is a story about how the prince himself cheated death… Dice’s story went on for what seemed like hours. Hin had unfortunately lost interest and became lost in the many maps sprawled across the walls. Occasionally she nodded when Dice seemed to be talking about an interesting part. . . . so they were very injured after their journey and East is tending to their wounds. They had problems in the forest with the… he paused and gave a slight smile, Well, that’s beside the point. Apparently, they came here on important business and they thought I could use my magic to help. Hin looked at the old man respectfully as he continued his almost absurd story. It seems that, the prince there’s been havin’ some strange dreams—

Strange dreams, Hin interrupted, suddenly beginning to listen more focussed on what Dice was actual saying. I too have been having strange dreams recently. Dreams about a Destroyer. A Murderer—

She was interrupted by East. He barged in the room rather clumsily and soaking wet. Two men accompanied him, both being the ones from Metta. They stood like soldiers, very proper, except for the fact that they were dripping wet and dressed as commoners. It appeared to Hin that East had finally managed to perfect the healing spells Dice was teaching him. East walked to the back of the hut and left the room without a word, knowing that he was no longer needed at the moment. Hin fell silent and tried to fix her position in the wobbly chair. Dice turned away from Hin and now faced the men. His expression became more serious and he looked like a truly powerful mage, his long grey beard seemed straighter and his eyes narrowed and became more powerful, his voice deepened and became more sombre. Chills filled Hin’s body at the drastic change in the old man’s behaviour. Never before had she seen him this way.

She was almost forced to turn away from the wizard. Averting her attention from Dice, she decided to look at the men from Metta instead. She had heard a lot of stories about Metta—and not only the ones Dice told: many stories of the people and the beautiful houses and buildings, she heard the rumours of strange creatures that travelled from distant lands living in the castle, and all about the prince. She had always known the prince to be very mysterious. Stories were told how the prince has travelled to different lands outside of their land of Shed. She could not even comprehend leaving Shed, or what other worlds or places were out there. She could recall never even setting foot outside of the town of Ashes. In her daze, she imagined how wonderful it would be to meet the prince. The fact that he had been having the same dreams as her filled her with wonder. A loud thunderbolt soon woke Hin from her reverie with a shock.

She began once again taking notice of the two travellers. They seemed so out of place to be messengers from the prince. One of the men had long red hair that waved as it fell. His green eyes faced directly into the cold grey eyes of the wizard. He seemed to be the leader of the two men for he kept his attention constantly on the wizard and his gaze did not stray to the peculiar and tempting objects about the room. As Hin studied him harder, it seemed that something about him was amiss but she just could not place what.

The other man had short black hair and almost black eyes. He had a pointed nose and a look about him that Hin did not like. At first glance, he could easily be said to be a hobbledehoy. He did however seem to be the older of the two men though Hin could not tell for sure. The man was slightly taller than the other but shrunk behind him as though he were fearful of the bumbling old wizard. He avoided making direct contact with Dice and instead turned his gaze to a tall stack of volumes. The titles of most of the books had faded away but he kept his gaze upon them, hoping that Dice would not notice his distraction.

Before either of the two men could say anything, Dice sternly blurted out, You will take this woman with you to Metta. There she will meet with King Alshun. Bring her there safely. He spoke differently, not in his normal jovial tone but a powerful booming voice that was distant to Hin. She had never known the wizard to be authoritative and now she barely recognized the old man.

The two men froze. They did not even notice Hin in the room until Dice pointed her out. She was frail and not suited at all for a week-long journey. The man with the red hair stuttered, Sir, with all respect, this woman cannot travel to Metta. It took us a week to reach Ashes—he paused for a moment looking at the ground for an instant but then returning his gaze towards the wizard—without horses. You see sir; our only reason for coming was to discuss the prince’s—

He was cut off by a loud thunder bolt from outside. He shuddered and decided it best not to finish his sentence. The rain became harder and was hitting the window of the hut like thunder. That is the reason I am sending this girl with you! Dice snapped. You have come here to seek my aid and wisdom, and here I give it to you. You will take the woman to Metta, and you will see that she is unharmed. The prince is seeking help because of the nightmarish dreams he has; this woman here has them the same. The help he seeks lies with Hin alone.

The men looked at Hin, who by this time had sunk so low in the chair with embarrassment, covering her face in the blanket, there was little to nothing of her to even see, and then back at the wizard. Without thinking or question, both men complied by bowing and quickly left the dark little hut and entered the storm again. Dice resumed his kindly ways and turned to Hin, orb in hand.

Now Hin, he started, and then looked out the window at the rain. She sat upright in the chair again and but the blanket back down on her lap. The journey ahead is not going to be an easy one and you may have to give some things up to continue on the path. But never be led astray by wickedness or power. Your dreams are an illusion of something neither you nor I understand. It is no mere coincidence that you are having the same dreams as the prince. You must confront the one you cherish most to help the one you despise.

A sudden image of Step came into her mind. What did Dice mean? She quickly purged her mind of such thoughts, knowing that the wizard was a bit strange and very old and loved to talk whether it made any sense or not. She stood up and stared at Dice with her big blue, luminous eyes. He turned around, a bright smile upon his face. A sudden rush of joy blocked any vision of danger and sadness in Hin’s mind. She ran to the old man and embraced him. She tried to bid the wizard farewell but the words would not form upon her lips. Her throat became dry, tears trickling down her cheeks. She was leaving Ashes, leaving to embark an inevitable journey to a far off city. She left the small hut and ventured into the rain. She slowly walked back towards Step’s house but stopped to smile when she heard an old wizard fumbling with a magical orb.

CHAPTER 2

The Forest

Hin awoke the next morning in her own home, though she was not entirely sure how she had arrived there. She sat in her uncomfortable, wooden bed for a few moments recollecting the events of yesterday. Everything seemed almost unreal. The trip to Dice’s hut and the meeting of those two men seemed almost like dreams to her. However, once again, last night she had the same nightmarish dream she had had the night before and before that and so on. She stood formless again in the blackness and the Murderer spoke to her saying the same words and the dream ended in her seeing the face of that shadowlike figure.

The day was still in its infancy so Hin was certainly in no hurry to get herself ready for the trip to Metta. No sunlight came through the one tiny window on the far—but not too far—side of her house, yet no light ever came through the window because a large tree blocked the view of everything and behind that tree was the wooden fence that encircled the small town so the only view Hin had, if any view at all, was that of the trees in the forest beyond Ashes. But Hin assumed, despite the darkness in her own home, that the time of day was still very early though she was not entirely unsure.

She dragged her body out of the bed still half-asleep and in pain from lying on the wooden frame only covered in a thin straw mattress which was falling apart and perhaps older than she was. Taking only three large steps she was on the other side of her house and began her morning routine. Her mess of black hair was brushed as best she could running her fingers through it as though it would help and she washed her face with a ratty cloth which was filthy and did not do much on her pale skin but apply a layer of grime. She dressed into her faded attire which faded ever