The Eight of Image. (Complete Edition 1)

     
THE EIGHT OF IMAGE 1
                                                   
The Undecided End 

PROLOGUE

DONG!
The loud clanking of a large bell broke through the cool air of the moonlit night, carrying its sound wide across the rocky terrain beneath it. There was an electrified tension in the air, despite the night being so cold.
        It might have been the hundreds of feet and hooves that thundered loudly all over the ground, searching. It might have been the voices shouting orders left and right over the entire din.
It might have been the cloaked figure that huddled beneath some boulders that had caved uncomfortably over him, unseen by all. Nearby, a sharp voice barked out orders into the night.
             
              “Soldier! What’s your report?”
              “The intruder is still around here, sir. Some of our wounded soldiers say he is a 6th year”.
                “6th year fighter?! Crap! This isn’t some training routine! We lieutenants are 4th years; the higher ups should know we are inadequate for this mission! Where are they anyway?”
                “They are having an emergency meeting at this very moment, sir”.
                “M-Meeting?! By thunder! King Bandor’s son has been abducted and they have the time for meetings?! What’s really going on here?!”
                “Sir…, I hear King Bandor is dead…”

The cloaked figure shifted slightly in his hiding place close by, it wasn’t because of his awkward position between the rocks.
                 
                  “Watch your mouth, soldier!”
                  “Sorry sir, it’s just…I passed by the meeting room on my way here. I wouldn’t joke with something this serious”.
                  “Dead…it can’t be, not King Bandor. I hope dearly that you are wrong… Though it’s no reason for us to lose focus. We must find the intruder and retrieve the king’s son, a lot depends on it! Relay the info on the intruder to all the soldiers”.
                    “Yes sir!”

The sound of hooves galloping on the ground could be heard; it faded into the clamor of the night.
The cloaked figure shifted again as he heard the sound of running feet approaching.
                     
                      “What is it this time?” the lieutenant muttered.
                      “Captain Molder is on his way here to help with the mission, sir”.
                      “Finally, some sensible thinking from above…”

The cloaked figure shifted uncomforttably once again, Molder…? Got to move.
At that moment a searching soldier jumped into the cloaked figure’s sight and looked him straight in the eyes from his hiding spot. For an instant, time froze…
                        “I’ve found him! I’ve found the intrud”-
        In that split second the cloaked figure had lunged out of his hiding spot and directly in front of the soldier. His raised leg drove straight into the soldier’s belly.
        The soldier grunted and fell to the ground, “…fast”.
The cloaked figure spun round to face the two soldiers that had been talking.
One was already in midair towards the cloaked figure, bringing a broad sword in his hands down.
          The cloaked figure’s leg found the attacking soldier's ribs first. The soldier hit the ground, out cold.
Swift running feet sounded behind him.
          The lieutenant! The cloaked figure thought and spun around, ducking in the process. A sword shot close past his cheek and cleft his hood off his head. In the light of the moon, the lieutenant found himself staring into the face of a man. Then they locked eyes.
                          “Y-Your eyes…!” the lieutenant stuttered, losing his composure in overwhelming shock.
        The cloaked man looked away even as he delivered two solid punches to the lieutenant’s chest. The soldier dropped to the ground.
        The cloaked man stumbled back, his eyes tightly shut as if to keep something in. No, please not now…     
                                                                      *                 
The storm raged with unmistakable anger as lightning flashed across the dark sky with a blinding glare. Thunder echoed boldly. But what stood at the edge of the woods across the street was of a different picture.
        A cloaked man huddled a baby close to his chest, wanting to make sure that the pouring rain had no contact with the child.
        He had a hood completely covering his head, save for the few strands of brown hair that hung beyond the rim of his hood. He looked down at the baby sleeping in his arms and felt a mix of emotion stir through him, fear was one of them.
          Within a few hours he had changed the life and destiny of the child, not to mention his own. He looked up across the wet street towards the houses in front of him; their lights illuminating their backyards.
          His concealed eyes focused on the one in front of him and he nodded slightly to himself. The lights within the house were off, indicating that its occupants were asleep.
            The young man took a step out of the shadows that the trees had cast, glancing along the road as he did. There was no one in sight on the light flooded street.
      He quickened his steps as he moved directly into the light cast by the street lamps, his eyes darting in all directions. In a few seconds he was across the street, making sure the baby was alright.
        Then for a moment he froze and then turned his head towards the woods behind him. In the light of the street lamp, his now visible brown eyes stared steadily at the unmoving trees. The young man sighed in relief and turned back to the house before him.
                He took a deep breath and stepped onto the doorway, fear washed over him without warning. His hand reached for the doorbell reluctantly, a few inches away it pulled back. He felt his knees buckle violently and his breath shallow. Within himself he felt his heart as if it were been torn in two.
          The man looked down at the child in his arms with tears welling in his eyes; guilt had filled him without measure. The tears could not be held for any longer, they trailed down his cheeks freely.
          “I’m sorry, so sorry,” he sobbed, “Please forgive me”.
He ran his fingers lightly over the baby’s peaceful face. His shuddering continued for a while, showing his inability to calm the emotional turmoil within him.
              He suddenly stood straight and faced the door before him with a deep breath. He rang the doorbell twice and waited. It’s all going to end here, he thought.
              Within himself he knew that was a lie. Nothing would end here; in fact he knew this would only delay what was to come. The sound of footsteps got to his ears. There was now no going back.

CHAPTER ONE (THE FIELD TRIP)

The rain had left it’s presence behind that Monday morning, wetting the grass and leaving a distinctive cold blanket in the atmosphere. It was one thing Mark Stedman really didn’t like when he stepped out of the house on his way to school; he was a boy with an average height, clear blue eyes and dark brown hair. Not too skinny or chubby, he looked as any sixteen year old would.
          He stopped in front of the porch stairs and looked around; the morning really looked wet before him.
              “Take care, honey,” a female voice said from inside the house.
Mark sighed. “Mum, I’m sixteen,” he said as he went down the steps.
              “That’s why you should take care,” Mrs. Kathy Stedman replied heartily.
          Mark crossed the lawn, wondering why adults acted the way they did. He gave up as he reached the low wooden gate of the fence around his house. He stepped unto the sidewalk and looked around, the bus hadn’t arrived yet. Just then the unmistakable purr reached his ears; he turned to see the bus curve around the corner and towards him. It stopped in front of him and opened its door with a gentle hiss.
            He was onboard the partially full bus in a few seconds trying to find a seat, he found one four rows away from the driver. He sat down with a sigh and wiped the dew off the window by him.
              “Hi Mark,” a voice said. Mark turned to see Tom Harvey, his best friend, drop into the seat beside his.
              “I didn’t see you on the bus,” Mark said in pure surprise.
              “Well, I just saw you,” Tom replied with a smile.
Mark turned and looked outside the window, “I can’t believe today’s a Monday”.
            “Have to agree with you there,” Tom said adjusting the bag on his lap, “Mondays aren’t supposed to be wet”.
A moment of silence passed between the two friends as the bus began moving again.
              “Umm, Mark…,” Tom began with a hint of uncertainty.
              “What is it?” Mark replied without turning from the window.
              “Do you think she’ll… notice me today?” Tom’s voice was very low.
              “She?” Mark mumbled as he turned to face his friend. “Who’s ‘she’?”
              “You know …..Annie,” Tom replied in a hurried tone.
Mark nodded slightly as he recalled the girl in their class called Annie. She was a girl with long braided black hair and clear blue eyes, small nose and unmistakable beautiful dimples when laughing.
Mark found himself laughing softly, “You still have a crush on her-,”
                “Not so loud,” Tom hushed with a quick glance around. “So…, do you think she will?”
The presence of laughter seeped away from Mark as he wondered on how to answer; in truth he didn’t have an answer.
                “Why?” he finally asked, “Why are you so expectant for something that might never happen?”
                  “Well,” Tom began, his eyes lowering to his laps with a dreamy expression played on his face, “I guess it’s all I can do, hope and believe”.
          Mark turned back to the window. “Sorry Tom, I honestly don’t know what to tell you,” he murmured.
          Tom stared at his friend for a while and realized that Mark had never been the optimistic type. Never willing to look forward to something, to anticipate. In that was a person who didn’t want to get hurt and disappointed, to feel the burn of frustration and helplessness.
              “Some day, I hope you will,” was Tom’s reply.
Just as Mark was about to turn from the window again, his eyes caught something at the edge of the woods, across the street from his house. It made him look back.
                “Tom, take a look at this,” he said moving closer to the window to get a better view. Beyond the first line of trees was an old man dressed in strange clothing, clothing that looked a century older than its occupant. His steps were weary and slow as if exhausted from a long trip; dragging squarely on the leaf covered ground. In his hand was a small tattered pouch.
      Mark and Tom watched silently as the bus pulled away from the strange scene, the man was now a distant shadow among the trees.
              “What was that?” Tom asked, confused.
              “I have no idea,” Mark said. The very thought of it sent his hair standing on end. “And I don’t think I want to know,” he added after an afterthought. He closed his eyes and lay against the seat trying to forget what he had just seen……and heard. It stayed with him all the way to the school.
          The school bell rang noisely throughout the corridor as lessons began, students rushed into their seats as Mr. Walton entered the class. The science teacher looked around the class, totally ignoring the disturbance as students moved into their seats.
              “How are my students this morning?” he asked with a wide smile. The smile was not returned.
              “What are you? Blind?” a voice piped anonymously.
              “I can see”, Mr. Walton murmured under his breath and winced as he glanced at the dull faces that stared back at him. Strangely, the smile reappeared on his face.
              “I’ve got an answer to that”, he said, moving towards the board.
            A moment of intense silence was held as the teacher enjoyed the build up of anxiety in his students.
              “Not another pop quiz,” someone muttered.
              “I planned a little field trip to the woods. We’re going there to study the plants and animals native to these places”, he said, the smile on his face widening.
          There was a sudden uproar of joy as students leapt off their chairs in joy, balled sheets of paper zooming in every direction.
              “Quiet!” Mr. Walton hissed in a pleading tone, raising his hands up for silence, “There’s a bus waiting outside on the courtyard. I want you all to silently get into the bus and wait for me, silently,” he continued.
          The students filed out of the classroom and through the long corridor that led to the courtyard outside. They rushed into the bus as if it was all they could do to live, the noise produced was inevitable.
        Mark and Tom took seats at the very end of the bus, unconsciously trying to avoid the noisemaking. “Look who’s in,” Tom said, staring at the doorway of the bus. Mark looked up and regretted ever doing so, the very confident figure standing in the doorway of the bus turned out to be no other than his worst enemy; Slick Evers.
          As strange as it felt, Mark never understood why he hadn’t been able to get along with Slick. At least he had never tried to spoil things between them, it just happened casually. From the very first day they met.
        Slick dropped into a seat two rows away from Mark and Tom.
      “Honestly I was thinking he would miss school today,” Mark murmured just loud enough for Tom to hear. His friend grinned, “Well, that makes two of us”.
        “Is that how students define the word ‘silently’,” Mr. Walton said as he climbed into the bus. There was a sudden hush that swept through the entire bus as the teacher took his place beside the driver’s seat.
        Seconds later the middle aged driver climbed into his seat and started the engine.     
        “Are we ready to go?” Mr. Walton asked, the chorus of ‘yes’ from the students was as loud as the engine of the bus as it revved to life.
        They pulled slowly onto the road and headed for the woods ahead. It was the only place actually inhabited by plants and trees for kilometers in this large estate of buildings. 
          There had being the reports of the sighting of wild animals within. Mrs. Greta; an old lady staying a couple of houses away from Mark’s place claimed she had seen a wolf one morning.
          Mark didn’t believe her just like many other people, but the thought of such a claim being true made Mark feel cold, even colder now that he was about to enter the woods.
          “We’re here,” the teacher said opening the door seconds before the bus actually stopped. Mark blinked. The ride had been too quick. He stared at the trees even as he made his way among the other students to the door; the trees seemed to stare back at him.
          He stepped out into mild sunshine with a crushing urge to stretch; Tom stepped out behind him and took a deep breath.
        This was just another Monday of many countless others, a thought Mark received well into his mind.
          He was content with this and as a matter of fact content with anything else each day had to bring, as long as he didn’t have to expect anything. One could die just out of that.
        But this Monday was…different, its invincible hands stretched far back into the past to bring forth what had been waiting patiently for this day. It had been delayed years back. But then, what could a few souls do against destiny that was well defined beyond physical intervention, it would claim its right of power, irrespective of situation and event.
      Mark would never have believed in such things or even pondered about them, but yet they remained true. As true as the strange creatures that watched Mark from the shadow of the woods, observing his every move and breathes. These were creatures that were sent to do him as much harm as death itself.