The Last Light in Avalon: Chapter 1

The Last Light in Avalon





Chapter One



I stopped counting how many years it's been since I've seen the sunlight, or the snow, or anything outside of this prison at all. I suppose I've gotten used to the cold, and the musty smell that lingers here all the time. My thoughts often wander. I used to lay here and imagine what it would be like to walk upon the fresh soil again, but I seem to have forgotten how the dirt feels on my bare feet. This place was once a kingdom, flourishing with gossiping townsfolk, greedy merchants, and rulers with egos the size of the damn place itself. I'm actually quite surprised that I can at least remember that. There are few things I do remember. My job... if I can remember correctly, was serving as a knight of the lord. The lord was a very generous man, he paid his men well, made sure we were fed, and gave us the best armor and weaponry a man could imagine. He always seemed to put his people before himself, and fought for them for them until his last dying breathe. I feel as though he died right before my feet, but that's one of the many foggy memories I have.

There was once a voice here, perhaps in a cell somewhere near me, but he kept getting quieter until one day, there was nothing. This man wasn't much of a saint, in fact, he was quite the opposite. A trickster of sorts, as I would call it. Stealing money from the rich using smart, but unlawful sales tactics. Myself being a man of honor, and law, I found this to be very taunting. I would argue with him for hours on end, but somewhere along the way, we would just laugh about how silly our disagreements were. After being locked away in a jail cell for so long, one starts to appreciate the smaller things in life. Having someone to talk to, regardless of who it is, was definitely one of the best things to happen to me down here. I truly do miss the conversations we would have. It's probably been twelve years or so, if my math is right, since I stopped hearing his voice. Although, these twelve years feel like a short nap compared to the eternal nightmare I've been enduring.

Rats scurried across the floor, and the walls made their daily creaking, but today there was something else. A cough. A very faint cough at that, but I know for certain it was there.

"Aye mate," a voice called out, it was old and raspy, "didn't think I was gone forever, did ya? I'll tell you one thing, can't be rid of me that quick."

"Ye old bastard, 'the hell did you go?"

He cleared his throat again, this time sounding more sickly than before. A shuffling sound came from the cell next to me, and after all these years I finally figured out which one he had been in. "Don't really know to be honest, I just kind of fell asleep, and didn't wake again until now." The coughing continued to persist, sounding as though he was going to keel over and die any second. It was fairly obvious that this was the same man as before, but something was very different about him.

"Are you certain? We were friends for what seemed to be a lifetime, I can tell when you're distressed. I know no man who can sleep for twelve years." There was something wrong with him, but I just couldn't figure out what.

He spoke once again, but only after another sickly fit of coughing, "'ave I ever told you my name?" This was a question that I never could have imagined being asked. In a way it was somewhat frightening. "I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't even remember yours. I had the nerve to burn my into my skin though, don't have much meaning anymore really, but at least I know it."

Burning his name into his own flesh? "I always knew you to be a little crazy." I gave out a small laugh, and found myself smiling for the first time in years. The enjoyment of the little talks me and my mysterious friend shared was returning. "Go on then, your name?"

"Ah yes, my name indeed. They call me, by birth, Eugene, Eugene Solomon. Make your jokes, I think it's a rather nice name."

"No jokes from me friend, just envy. There's days that I wish I could remember my own name. No pleasure comes from not knowing yourself." Part of me wishes that I would have had the idea of burning 'my identity' into my skin. It's irritating not remembering who you are, or anything about your life for that matter.

"Envy? Nay. Nay I say. You mustn't feel envy friend. Our names are names of people that no longer live. Eugene died countless years ago." Both me and him fell into silence. Am I no longer the same person anymore?

"If I'm not to be who I was, then who I am now?" These words echoed through the small jail, and were met by nothing but deathly silence. This, I felt, was a question that he could not provide an answer for. Perhaps this was a question that only I could make an answer for.

Thirty, maybe forty minutes passed, but not a single word was spoken from either of us. Sometimes words leave open wounds, and these wounds needed time to mend. Mayhap I will take a rest, hopefully by the time I awake, my friend... Eugene, will still be about.

* * * *

After sleeping for what seemed to have been a few hours, the only thing on my mind was making sure Eugene was still awake, or even alive. I rubbed my eyes, yawned, and stretched my arms out wide. Once I was fully awake, I focused on the task at hand. "Eu... Eugene? Are you still there?" Waiting for a response was almost worst than meeting the sharp end of a sword. Sometimes I feel like I am growing an unhealthy dependency on having someone to speak to, someone to keep me sane.

"Aye, I'm still 'ere. I apologize for earlier, sometimes I just wander off I s'ppose." This time I could sense his honesty. After knowing someone for as long as I've known Eugene, you can tell when they're lying, and when they're not. Even though he was telling the truth this time, there was still something strange in his voice, aside from his new found sickness. "When I was gone, for those twelve long years..." I was quite surprised that he brought this up on his own, I thought I would eventually have to pry it from him.

"There's something you 'aven't told me, isn't there?" My question unfortunately brought another moments silence. "Eugene?"

"Yes, yes, I'm still here. Oh dear, it's almost inevitable not to wander off again, my age has surely gotten the best of me." Again, his words arose my own thoughts. Eugene was not old in any way the last time I had heard from him, those twelve long years ago. Those twelve years would usually suffice for an answer to that, but one does not age in Avalon, not anymore. When the kingdom fell, and the everlasting darkness fell upon its grounds, a magical field was erected around it as well; thus, preventing anyone inside from aging, or from dying of any natural cause at all.

"Eugene, what ever do you mean, your age? Surely you did not age whilst beyond the walls of this wretched place." Hopefully I have not stepped across any boundaries with my questioning. I have my suspicions that he hadn't expected me to remember such things.

"Your memory stands stronger than I had known, which brings me to an impass. There's no use in hiding my previous whereabouts." Eugene finally broke silence in regards to his secrets; although, it seemed like he was disappointed in doing so. "As you know, I used to be a merchant of sorts. I would travel the land, far and wide, and sell magical items to foolish and desperate travelers. Some of these items actually possessed magical powers of sorts. One of those few items was a gem, that upon saying certain incantations, would teleport you out of a bad situation."

Everything started to make sense, but it was still a mystery to me why he had come back to this awful place if he had a way out. "But Eugene, why would you come back here?" I laughed, almost thinking it was comical that one would choose to come back to a place like this. "This place, this hell, is something unimaginable to those who 'aven't set foot upon its grounds. So tell me, Eugene, why?"

"Why? Must you require an answer to every question?" He seemed agitated, which led him into another violent cough, this one lasting merely five whole minutes. "Very well, I might as well give you the satisfaction of knowledge. Before I do, I 'ave a question for you. What am I? What do you see me as, knowing my past of course."

Eugene's question puzzled me. He may have been what some would call a criminal. To me though, through these years of rotting away in a jail cell, he's truly shown me his inner self. Not who he appears to be to his dim-witted customers, but who he appears to be to himself. "I see you as a man. A man that did what he knows best to make a fair living for himself," Almost leaving it at that, I took a pause, but then found myself continuing my answer, "and I see you as a true friend, without you, I would surely have lost my mind by now. This place does things to you, and before your reappearance, I feared that my lust for death, and my curiosity for a life after death, would have led me to a quite sinful deed."

"I wonder what ever would keep a man from ending his own life, after enduring... such mental pain, and such lonesome. It surely boggles my mind. I knew from the moment I met you though, that you were a strong soul," He sighed, almost breaking into a cough again, but held it back this time, as if eager to say something else, "which is exactly what made me come back to this place. I am not as strong as you, and without your lingering company all those years, I most definitely would have made the choice that you yourself cannot make. As happy, and hopeful as it makes me that you're still here, it also saddens me."

"Why is that?"

"Because, I would never wish this upon my worst enemies, not in a thousand life times. Nevertheless, there is a more important reason I came back to you." This caught my attention above all else, I knew there was something more to his reasoning for coming back. "I suppose I'll just get to it then, I brought something back with me, something that will get us out of these cells."

These words rang through my head over and over as I tried to determine if I had really heard what was just said. The thought of ever escaping from here was unbelievable. The only thing I could do was sit there and think, but the problem was, I didn't know what to think about. I stopped thinking about escaping years ago, and now that the thought is back, I have no knowledge of what is even on the other side of this door. All those years ago someone threw me in here, in a room with no windows, and no light.

"I assume the thought of leaving your new home seems quite unreal, but it's true. I can get you out of here, get us out of here. In fact, it could happen within the next five minutes if you'd like."

No words seemed to be able to escape. There was just silence, and out of nowhere, a sence of fear. I was once a brave man who could stand up and face any danger that was to be thrown at me. That just wasn't the case anymore, my practically lifeless hands haven't even touched the cold steel of a sword since my imprisonment. These arms are now weaker, and my mind more vulnerable, so how am I supposed to face the unspeakable horrors that await me?

A rattling came from outside of my cell. Is this Eugene, or has someone come to end my suffering. Either way, I'm not sure I'm ready for that door to be open for the first time. The sound continued for awhile, someone must be fiddling with the lock, which leads me to believe it's Eugene on the other side after all. This is really happening, I'm going to stand up, and walk, for the first time in many years. It's almost like a baby, learning to walk for the first time.

The lock on the door finally stopped rattling, and the door itself finally opened. Someone walked in, and considering I've never actually seen Eugene, it most likely was him. The darkness consumed him, until he walked closer to me and into my view. There stood a ragged looking man. He was wearing a thick, brown robe, which was in suprisingly good condition. Dirt covered his face, and was mixed in with his long curly red hair. I can't say this is how I pictured him to look, but he had a smirk on his face, one that showed he was of merchant blood. He drew closer to me, I couldn't help but back up in caution.

"Easy there fella, I assure you that I'm the same person that's resided in the cell next to you for all these years." Eugene studied my worn out body, looking up and down, and side to side. "I got to say, you look like you've been through hell. I s'ppose that's to be expected. We've no time for chatter though, not at the moment at least." He came up to me, and put his hands on my shoulders. Before speaking again he looked next to me at a pile of iron armor on the floor, "You may be weak from sitting around all these years, but I 'ave a feeling you'll need that armor."

Eugene stepped outside of my cell and gave me a minute to dress myself. While getting ready, I had a flashback, bringing me back to what seemed to be the knights barracks. I stood there, in front of a large mirror, fully dressed in my armor. It was much shinnier and sharp than it is now. This must have been when I first joined the Knights Order. A memory that, until now, was lost in the corridors of my mind. Taking heed to Eugenes words, I snapped out of my trance, took a deep breath, and joined him outside of the cell. There he stood, my mind was still shaken from actually seeing a living person.

"This... this is all very strange. I never imagined myself being on this side of my cell. I surely thought that I would meet my demise inside on that cold cobblestone floor." I said, my voice being very shaky.

"Indeed, the same thought crossed my mind as well, until I realized I still had my magical gem with me," he chuckled, his sly smirk still on his face, "but as I've said, regardless of your questions and concerns, we have no time to spare. This place is foul with the stench of evil, and we need be careful on our feet." As he finished talking he turned towards an open wooden door, the only door in the room that wasn't a cell. "I think it's safe to assume that that door would be a good place to start, eh?" Eugene snickered, revealing his sarcastic personality.

"Have you even any idea of where we are? This place is not what it used to be, and even though I've most likely been down here in my time, my memory of this kingdom had faded." I stared intently at Eugene, with the same look of concern and fear that's stricken my face for countless years. "I shan't let my paranoia get the best of me, but it's only common sense to proceed with caution."

"Common sense, eh?" He shook his head, and walked back over to me. "You've been locked in that damned cell for countless decades, and look at you, you should be dead, you should be wrinkled, but you're not. 'aven't you been itching for a good fight? After resting your sword for all those years, I think it's time for you to pick one back up, and get it a little bloody, don't ya think?" His attention wandered from me, and he started pacing around the room, searching for something. "Ah yes, right here, it ain't much, but it should suffice for now." Yet again walking back over to me, he held a rusted broadsword, one of which had scrapes and pieces of iron chipped from it.

Without saying anything, I grabbed the broadsword from him and studied it carefully. It wasn't much of a weapon, even before its previous owner took poor care of it. This sword wasn't made from my kingdom, for there was no possibility that our blacksmiths would make such an inferior weapon. Despite the poor condition of the weapon, it seems as though I have no option but to make it work for now. I didn't want to admit to Eugene that he was right, but there was something refreshing about holding the leather covered handle of this blade. Taking a minute to adjust to the weapon, I turned from Eugene, and let out a few good swings. One of my favorite things about handling a blade was that, if you listen carefully, you could hear the iron slicing through the wind. Most people don't pay enough attention to the small details, but that's what makes the small things much more magnificent.

"A'right, I see you and your mistress have had time to catch up, but I needn't say how precious our time is again. I 'ave no idea what lies beyond those doors, but I can imagine that you would rather die fighting for your life, as compared to dying a pathetic, cold death in that cell." He raised his eyebrows at me, and waited for me to join him, and be on our way.