Amardoth: Reaching Enlightenment

By Elias Axel Reid and Szilvia Szabo

Thomas is a normal farm boy, until one day his life is completely changed when soldiers kidnap him. This puts him on the path to enlightenment. He doesn't know that this path will include many challenges and hardships, but also friendships and happiness. One day, he meets a mysterious old man who becomes his mentor, showing him realms beyond the Earth, magical crystals, and a world that is beyond human perception. But life isn't easy – darkness is descending upon the planet. Thomas must decide what is more important to him; the path to enlightenment, or saving the people of earth from certain extinction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781447628972

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Elias Axel Reid

Amardoth

Reaching Enlightenment

Elias Axel Reid

Amardoth – Reaching Enlightenment

Copyright © 2023 Elias Axel Reid

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please write to the author.

Contact: [e-mail]

Cover design and illustration by Szilvia Szabo

Proofread by Katherine Moore

ISBN 978-1-4476-2897-2

Imprint: Lulu.com

Contents

The beginning

The learning

The separation

The change

The dark times

‘The story doesn’t end after death, it continues...’

The beginning

My earliest memories are of warm summer days working in the fields with my father and older brother. It was the summer of 1516, and I was six years old. My father was a farmer, and thought that his sons should also work in agriculture, as he saw great potential for both of us. This meant that we had to help him on the farm. I can still hear his shouting, burned into my memory.

‘Thomas, hold this! Bring it here to me!’

‘Work hard for everything, and it will be yours!’

To be honest, I didn’t like working on the farm – I really didn’t. It was difficult and exhausting, but I had no choice. I was just a little boy. If I said no to my father or grimaced, I would immediately get a slap on the head.

‘Learn and be smarter!’ he would say in a stern, but fatherly way. ‘My father taught me, and now I’m teaching you. Concentrate!’

My father had a lot of physical strength. He was bald, 5’7, and wore all of his clothing for as long as he possibly could. As a result, he mainly sported torn shirts and tatty boots. In general, he was very strict. He would only spend money on things that were completely necessary, and saved every denarius he could. We weren’t allowed to disagree with him, and if we did, he would beat us. If he told us to do something, we had to do it. I tried, but my attention often wandered, meaning I was generally not that useful for him. But I had to be there and try, one way or another.

Even as a six-year-old, I didn’t want to be a farmer. When I looked at my father, I saw a completely exhausted, burnt-out person who only lived to work. I didn’t want to be like that, and thought that there was much more to being a farmer than spending ten hours a day in the fields. A sensitive soul, I enjoyed talking to the animals and being in nature, while almost everyone around me seemed to be farming and raising livestock because they couldn’t do anything else.

We had a medium-sized farm that was about nine miles from the nearest town. Although I didn’t like working in the fields, I loved being on the farm – I just loved everything there. There were times when I would spend hours playing with the animals, and other times when I would just lay under a tree and watch the clouds go by. I always had the feeling that they were talking to and loving me. Not in a human language, of course, but through feelings that arose within me.

Horses were my favourite. I loved to ride, and felt the most comfortable around them. We had three horses, and I considered one of the mares to be my best friend. I always started and ended my day with her, and would exercise, feed and water her in the mornings and evenings. With the help of the horses, we would travel to market and church. Of course, we also used them for harvest. I really loved harvest, because afterwards we had a big party! We would make a bonfire and sing and dance around it (often very awkwardly), giving thanks for the harvested crops. At the time, of course, I didn’t really understand what this meant.

Our farm was located in the Blue Valley, in the Kingdom of Amardoth – a beautiful place. I can remember the smell of flowers blossoming in spring, the chirping of birds, and the taste of fresh strawberries and water from the brook. The land was surrounded by mountains, and a gentle stream flowed beside it. It was an impressive sight.

Our family house was located on the farm. It was neat, and surrounded by plum and apple trees. Although it only had a kitchen, two bedrooms and a chamber, we filled it with life. My father was proud of what he had created – everything was the result of his hard work. My mother was the exact opposite of my father, an angel of tenderness. My father was very masculine, while my mother was very feminine. They complemented each other perfectly.

The next three years were uneventful – and then, everything changed. I had just turned ten when my life made a 180-degree turn.

It was two or three o’clock in the morning when our three guard dogs started barking loudly in the garden.

‘Get out! Go away!’ they said.

My father jumped out of bed, lit a candle, put on his jacket and grabbed his rifle. My sister and I ran to our mother, frightened.

‘What’s wrong, mother? I’m scared,’ said my sister.

‘Who are they telling to go away?’ I asked.

My mother tried to console us.

‘It’s alright, it’s probably just a fox or a bear near the house. Sleep peacefully.’

But we could see from her expression that we were not safe. She gently caressed our faces, trying to comfort us. I fell asleep again almost instantly.

Soon, we heard shouting from outside. Half awake, I couldn’t tell what was going on, but my mother heard the words clear as day.

‘Give us your money and animals right now!’

She pulled my younger sister and I from our bed, beckoning to my older sister and brother who had been asleep on the floor. We were crying and shaking with fear, and could see that our mother was scared, too. She sent my older sister to hide in the attic, instructing her not to come down until the soldiers were gone, even if she heard something. Then, she pushed my little sister and I into a closet.

Suddenly, we heard gunshots from outside. Although my father had cooperated and led them into the barn, the intruders had shot him three times in the head, killing him instantly. It was hard for him to hand over the property he’d worked so hard for, but he’d done it for his family.

Then, the soldiers began to approach the house.

‘Open the door!’

They pounded on it with their fists, as we waited quietly. A few seconds later, the door crashed to the floor of the hallway as they kicked it down. Upon entering, the soldiers immediately spotted my mother and older brother.

‘Money? Food?’ they demanded.

My mother was crying, but handed over our family fortune (just a small purse) without hesitation. When one of the soldiers inspected it, he muttered, displeased.

Two of the other soldiers dragged my brother outside, pushing and taunting him as they went. My brother was 14, but the top of his head only reached their shoulders. He begged them to let him see our mother, insisting that he needed to go back inside. The two soldiers began to discuss this with one another.

‘Shall we take him?’ one said.

‘He’s too old, he can’t learn much,’ replied the other.

Finally, the soldiers addressed my brother.

‘Your mother doesn’t have time to deal with you, you dog. She’s having fun now,’ they said, pushing him back and forth between them. Then, they pointed down at my father’s corpse and shot two bullets into my brother’s chest. His lifeless body fell face down on the ground.

My mother heard the gunshots from inside and knew exactly what had happened. She screamed.

‘My little son, no!’

She turned to a soldier, frantically crying.

‘What happened to my son? Is he alive?’

The soldier looked at her.

‘He’s dead now. Do you want to meet him?’

With that, he tore off her nightdress. My mother resisted, so he slapped her hard enough that she lost consciousness, blood dripping from her mouth. He took off his trousers and threw himself down on top of her. Then, he raped her. When he had finished raping her, 12 other soldiers did the same. When they were done, one of them slit her throat.

‘We don’t need a bastard,’ he said, simply.

After this, they ransacked our little house for anything of value, opening everything and looking everywhere. When they found something they liked, they took it for themselves. One of them went to the attic and found my older sister, who had been crying softly, and was now sobbing hysterically.

‘Leave me alone, let me go!’

He dragged her downstairs and threw her to the ground next to my mother’s still warm body. When he began to tear off her nightclothes, the other soldiers joined in to do the same. After raping her, they decided to also slit her throat, but she was squirming and kicking too much for them to do it.

‘Please don’t!’ she screamed, but they pretended not to hear, pinning her down more forcefully. Then, they slit my sister’s throat.

My little sister cried out for her.

‘Magda! Magda!’

One of the soldiers marched over and, with great force, opened the small closet we were hiding in. My mother had tried to hide us by covering us with clothes, but he quickly pulled them off. My little sister peed her trousers with fear. When they pulled us from the closet, they laughed at her, which made her cry more. One of the soldiers, annoyed by her wailing, hit her face so hard that one of her teeth fell out and her mouth began to bleed. Now scared and in pain, of course, she cried even more. The soldier grabbed her and smashed her head against the wall, then dropped her body next to my mother and sister.

‘We are finished,’ he said.

I was frozen by what I saw; the lifeless body of my mother and sisters on the floor, everything covered with blood. I could smell death in the room. The whole thing looked like a nightmare, but unfortunately, it was very real. Hatred and revenge flooded my body. My veins turned black, and I began to scream.

The force of it knocked the soldiers unconscious, all except for one. While the rest of them fell to the ground, he lunged, grabbing me and shoving me under his armpit. He carried me outside, and this was when I got my second shock – I saw my father and brother lying on the ground. This image will be burned into my memory for life. I screamed and cried for them, hoping it would bring them back.

‘Let me go!’ I screamed. ‘I want to leave. I want to go to my father!’

The soldier muttered something I didn’t understand. I imagine it was something along the lines of shut up and watch your house burn, as he then lifted a torch and threw it onto the thatched roof of my home. He watched it set alight without blinking. His comrades came staggering out, coughing, barely escaping the blaze.

At this, I sobbed, so he knocked me unconscious and he threw me on a cart.

‘Take him to the king and put him with the others. He’s a wizard, don’t hurt him.’

A few hours later

I was half asleep and could hear the wheels of the cart turning, when an old man with a long white beard and hair appeared before me.

‘Thomas,’ he whispered. ‘Find me, find me!’

I attempted to focus on the apparition against the bright white light that surrounded him. I couldn’t understand how this was possible. Am I dead? Am I in heaven? Is that why everything is so bright?

‘Who are you?’ I implored him. ‘Where do you want me to go? Where are you?’

The old man with the beard didn’t answer, only smiled, before disappearing.

‘You will know the way!’

A woman with untidy hair, torn clothes and a dirty face crawled towards me.

‘Boy, who are you talking to? Are you alright?’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I have a bit of a headache, but I’m alive. Where is the old man who spoke to me?’

‘No old man here,’ the woman said. ‘You must have dreamed it.’

But he had looked as real as her. I had no idea who he was, and had never seen him before. I concluded that I must have been dreaming, or maybe I was in shock from what had happened. I looked around at the others on the cart. There were six of us – four kids, me, and the woman. Definitely no old man.

On my left sat Peter, who I learned was 11 years old. He was a thin, sickly-looking boy with a pale face and blonde hair. Next to him was David, who was 12 years old, with longer brown hair. David didn’t speak much, just watched and listened. Sat in front of me was Anna, the woman’s daughter, who looked about 10 years old. She had long black hair, big brown eyes, and freckles on her face. Like the woman, the children’s clothes were torn and dirty. When I looked at all of them, I saw in their faces that they had been through hard things. We all stared at each other.

‘You, boy. What’s your name and what happened to you?’ asked Anna’s mother.

Still not feeling safe and missing my parents, I didn’t feel like answering, so I pretended as though I hadn’t heard her and watched the trees as they passed. She asked again.

‘We won’t harm you, you can speak. What is your name and what happened to you?’

‘My name is Thomas, and my family was killed by the soldiers. Now, I don’t know what will happen to me. I just want to go home,’ I replied in a trembling voice.

‘You can never really go home, because your family is with the angels in heaven,’ she said, leaning in to hug me. She smelled of urine and excrement, which I wasn’t used to, as my mother had always taught us to be clean and take care of our appearance. Despite the smell, I enjoyed it, because it was like my mom’s hug. I really missed my mom’s hug.

She said we would be on the road to the royal palace for another month and would not get much food. The soldiers had killed Peter and David’s family, and Anna’s father too. She thought that they must have some kind of use for us, which is why they had let us live. It seemed very likely that we would be sold as slaves to the royal court.

Anna looked up at me. ‘We should be glad we are alive,’ she said.

I really had no idea what being a ‘slave’ meant, but after seeing how the soldiers had treated us and our families, I didn’t hold out much hope. Suddenly, I went from being a child to an adult.

As they walked alongside the cart, we tried to eavesdrop on the soldiers and find out who they were, and what they were going to do with us. We also started talking more and more amongst ourselves, getting to know one another. David told us that he was interested in farming. He spent a lot of time in the fields with his father and grandfather, and last year they had harvested a lot. Peter said he wanted to be a soldier when he was older. He wanted to become a real knight, like the crusaders used to be. Later, he wanted to join the king’s army.

When