SwD: Lost tales

Okay, that´s the first one. It´s set before the actual story of SwD and deals with how the SHM lost their mother.


1

“She´s a witch.”

“It´s all her fault!”

Loz tried to ignore the whispered accusations, as well as the suspicious and unfriendly glares as good as he could manage while he stumbled down the village´s dusty main street with his heavy sack of flour and dry vegetables.

The villagers looked ragged, gaunt and tired, but this was really no wonder, if one considered that the harvest had been a failure again.

Biting his lips and staring down on the stony, uneven path winding through the few houses and up to the forest, the boy made his way to the first trees, feeling the stares of the others boring in his back even though he had left the village since almost 15 minutes.

Panting, he heaved the sack with their food from his sour shoulders and let it fall to the ground with a small, white dusty cloud that settled on his rough, dirty linen clothes.

He needed a pause.

Heavily sitting down on a cut tree trunk, Loz wiped away the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and mourned the fact that he hadn´t brought any of the cool, crystal clear water from the little creek that flowed behind their hut.

Trying to soothe his dry throat with his accumulated spit, the boy´s eyes wandered over the landscape lying in front of him. The small ascent provided him with a good view over the sere, brown fields that usually should have been a lushy green and rich, golden yellow.

But now the hot sun was just mercilessly burning down on the mouldy remains of the harvest. A few weeks ago it had been raining nonstop for days and days and the people´s hopes for decent emblements this year had made place for the sickening certainty that the weather wouldn´t be on their good side, again.

From his spot on the edge of the forest Loz could make out the small cemetery and the priest standing there with the mourners. The cleric was occupied every day now, holding the last mass for the deceased.

The miller had mentioned to him earlier that this time it had struck a farmer whose last child had starved just two days ago. Loz assumed that it was Günter, a strong, healthy boy he and his brothers had played with every once in a while. Just like Loz himself he hadn´t exceeded thirteen winters yet.

But then the list of their anyhow few friends had shrunken considerably over the last months anyway and death had become a daily visitor. He was just glad that the Grim Reaper hadn´t knocked on their door yet,which was greatly due to their mother´s profession that earned them enough food even in bad times. And also the forest was providing them with enough to survive.

Sighing, the boy averted his emerald eyes from the view beneath him and stood, heaving the heavy bag on his shoulders again. As soon as he had entered the cool shadows of the forest and felt the soft, mossy grass under his bare feet he felt much better.

Loz didn´t like the village much, which was also due to the fact that the village didn´t like them much. They may have tolerated them and seeked their help, but to say that they were on friendly terms would have been a blatant overstatement. And recently their attitude had become even worse…

No, Loz loved the forest with its calm, patient trees, the rustling of unknown forest dwellers and its old, albeit at the same time somehow fresh smell.

Hopping over a big root and pace becoming quicker, he went his way up on the small path towards their hut. It was already late into the day and he anticipated that maybe his mother had already cooked a soup, because his stomache was growling and reminding him that his last meal had been two days ago. Even though they weren´t hit by the hunger period like the villagers, they had to go to bed with a furious belly frequently, and Loz even more so because he gave most of his food to his skinny younger brothers.

At the thought of Yazoo and Kadaj a tiny smile graced his chapped lips and he walked even faster.

Loz loved his brothers to bits and knowing that the feeling was mutual made his heart feel even warmer. Sure, just like the other children they teased him once in a while and made fun of him, but it wasn´t with ill intend! The others just called him the ‘village idiot’ and hadn´t he been so strong they surely would have done much more than just calling him names.

But his brothers loved him like he was and appreciated his gentleness. And since Kadaj and Yazoo were clever enough there was no need for him to be sagacious too. He had other values -Yazoo, the ever calm and patient, had told him.

Ahead, a small wooden cottage on a clearing came into view, with darkened panels and a mossy roof. From cruxes hung herbs to dry in the rays of mild sunlight that fought their way through the thick forest canopy. The sound of water rushing over slick stones filled the air, coming from the ditch that gaily flowed behind their home.

His brothers were nowhere to be seen though, and Loz also missed the enticing fragrance of his mother´s vegetable soup. Frowning he went into the house, putting the bag on the panels by the door and storing it away to the place where they always put their food.

“’bout time,” came the grumpy voice of his mother from inside. “Ya shan´t gossip with da morons, I told ya.”

A slap to the back of his head made the boy look to the ground in shame, mumbling his apologies, even though it hadn´t been his fault that the miller had trapped him in his monologue.

“Whateva,” his mother snorted, shuffling back to her place by the fire where she squelched herbs to make medicine or whatever it was she always did. Loz didn´t understand and he also didn´t dare to ask. His mother´s mood swings were infamous, and the slim wooden twig always dangling from her hip was too intimidating (and painful) to inflict her possible wrath…

“Ya get evrythin´?” she asked over her shoulder, brows furrowed into a morose expression she was almost always wearing.

Loz nodded, observing how she quickly freed a thin branch from its leaves. “Yeah.”

There was no answer whatsoever, his mother already hunched over her items again and totally blocking him out like she always did when she had what she wanted.

Loz uncomfortably shifted his weight and observed her buckled back and the matted, long hair that fell over her dark, ragged cloths.

“Da villagers…” he licked his lips, as the skeletal fingers stopped moving. “Da villagers said da things bout ya again…”

A disgusted snort could be heard and the fingers continued with their mechanical job.

“Dun waste ya time listening to da guff dey talk. Dey ain´t doin´anythin, yest dun hav da balls for it cos dey need me, da shitbacks!” A gackling sound emerged from the woman´s throat that made fine goosebumps built on Loz´s arms, but he felt relieved nonetheless. If his mother said so it had to be right. After all, even the overlord sought her advice every once in a while, so she had to know.

He didn´t come any further with his thoughts, as suddenly a commotion from the door filled the small room they called their home.

Kadaj eagerly jumped into the house and skidded to halt next to the corner where they stored their food, followed by his older brother.

“Ya have brought food!” the youngest squealed, crouching next to the bag and eager little fingers impatiently fumbling with the ribbon.

“Bugga off!” Instantly the sound of the twig buzzing through the air and connecting with soft flesh made Loz back away.

His mother had thrown herself over the bag in the blink of an eye, glowering at them from behind her filthy hair. Kadaj indignantly sucked at his hurting finger, huffing.

The annoyed gaze was shifted towards the middle brother who stood by the door with his head tilted. “Ya want food ya work foa it! Yest be useful foa once an´get ya brothas out an get me sum mistletoes, will ya!”

Yazoo nodded, gathering his baby brother from the floor, and shooting Loz a look to follow them outside before her mood could get even worse.

Hurriedly they fled the stinking cottage and ran through the woods to their favorite spot; a small clearing with an old, dead oak tree, whose burned branches reached into the high, cloudless sky.

Setting the smallest on a root by the cupped trunk, Yazoo knelt before the crying boy and sighed. “Stop dat, it ain´t hurtin dat much.”

Kadaj shot him a sullen look, sticking out his bottom lip and willing some more tears to streak down his chubby face. “Hurt too! Ain´t ya who got it!”

Loz sat down beside his brothers, looking sympathetic and wincing at the sight of red little fingers, what earned him a dark look from the middle brother as Kadaj felt himself supported and smirked with thriumph.

Giving in and grabbing for the littlest tiny hands to blow over them, Yazoo mentally rolled his eyes, but said “Dere. Blew it all away.”

Kadaj sceptically looked at his fingers, but then just shrugged and started climbing the lightening stroken tree. “So, where ya wanna search for mistletoes?”

Yazoo looked thoughtful for a moment, absently watching his monkey imitating sibling and murmuring “Be careful will ya…”

Loz scratched his head too, but nothing came to mind.

“Can´t go ta da last place, we already gat everything from dere…” Yazoo said, but then he just shrugged. “S growin everywhere, yest let´s walk around an get it.”

The oldest nodded and wanted to just do as Yazoo had suggested, but was held back by the youngest who breathlessly pointed out, hanging upside down from a branch “Ain´t workin, hehe.”

Yazoo lifted an eyebrow, leaning forward to come face to face with his brother. “An why´s dat?”

“Cos,” Kadaj grinned smugly, bumping his nose with his brother´s as he grabbed his head and pulled him closer, laughing “We ain´t hav da sickle.”

Loz frowned as he noticed the truth of Kadaj´s words and threw a helpless look towards Yazoo, who freed his face and, unimpressed, pulled the boy from his branch. “Den sumone has ta get it.”

Silence raigned between them, no one feeling eager to go back to their grumpy mother.

“I ain´t, cos I ain´t big enugh anyways,” Kadaj peeped up suddenly, crossing his little arms over his chest in satisfaction for having found a plausible excuse. It was true, without a stool he wouldn´t reach the item hanging on the wall outside next to the door.

“Uhm… I ain´t as quiet´n silent as ya…” Loz murmured, avoiding eyecontact with Yazoo.

The middle brother didn´t seem too enthusiastic to volunteer either, but eventually he just gave an exasperated snort and turned around, instructing “Dun go away.”

Both his brothers eagerly nodded, Kadaj even having the nerve to wave at him and wishing him good luck.

Ignoring their cheering, Yazoo made his way back to the cottage. Honestly, they were such brats sometimes…

It was always on him to sort out the mess again. Loz was no big help whatsoever and Kadaj was still too small and childish (and far too spoiled, but that was Yazoo´s own fault) to deal with their mother. Even though she was a little more lenient with the youngest than she was with Yazoo or Loz, her patience ran thin just all too quickly and Kadaj´s exuberant, demanding character wasn´t helping matters either. So it was mostly Yazoo who took care of them, since his intuition concerning their mother´s mood swings was also the most accurate.

The now orange lightened clearing came into view, but almost instantly the boy sensed that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

It may have been his honed senses or just the fact that noises came from the shack that shouldn´t have been there. He also could see lots of footprints in the soft forest ground that were neither his nor his brothers and they were far too fresh to be those of any recent visitors.

They were booted, too.

Silently and quick like a shadow, the long haired boy slipped past the trees and bushes, observing his home. Eventually he reached the back of the house, leaning flat against the wet wood and pressing his ear against it. Now the noises distinguished and appeared to be familiar, but quite agitated voices.

“Whaddaya do woman?”

“Didn do nuthin, an now get outta ma house ya stinkin cleric!”

“So you deny that you have sided with the devil and sought his help to bring misery over these good villagers?” came the tight reply of the priest.

A gaggling, snorting laugh was his answer, followed by a not in the slightest bit amused snort. “Ya nuts or what? Ya thing I dun hav otha things ta do?! If ya so eaga ta know why dun ja go back ta ya church an ask ya friggin gawd, uh?”

“Dun listen ta her, I´ve seen her dancing in ta moon, naked an doin evil stuff!” an eager voice butted in, sounding much like the village´s smith.

“Yeah, me too! An my wife said she´d seen her, puring blood over the fields so the crop would wither and she talks to cats!”

Brows furrowed, Yazoo slid further until he reached a knothole in one of the panels.

Into view came his mother, standing by her bowls and herbs in a defensive, snarling manner, twig raised. Before her were three men and the village´s priest; a grave, thin man with a grim expression and a bible tugged under his arm. Apparently he wasn´t someone who meant her well, if Yazoo interpreted his disgusted, fierce look right.

“Dat´s bullshit!” his mother snorted, looking no less repulsed.

“But isn´t it true,” the priest queried “that you have never been to any mass? And as I see here now, you experiment with witchcraft. You also stained the Lord´s name…”

He gave a short nod towards the men and they stepped forward, surrounding the snarling woman and driving her in a corner. Even though she lunged out at them with her whip the men soon captured her by the arms and held her still while the priest approached her slowly, almost lazily taking a rusty knife from the wall and handing it to the smith with cold words “Why don´t we see if we can jog your memories concerning your evil actions a little, hm?”

Frozen to the spot, Yazoo observed his cursing, struggling mother and the smith with the rusty blade. The other two pinned her to the ground, and upon the priest´s instructions, the bulky, blond smith licked his lips and knelt down before her, grabbing her foot and with a sudden thrust ramming the blade under her toenail.

With another thrust downwards he levered the nail out, blood splattering all over his face. An agonized scream shrilled in the boy´s ears as his mother´s eyes went wide and her mouth jerked open, giving a good view at her rotten teeth.

“Now, do you remember?” the priest asked camly, but all he got was a hazed, angry glare.

With another nod he gave the smith permission to continue, and a second nail was pulled out of its soft socket. His mother still refused to admit to the horrendous crimes she was accused of, but it was when they had broken her fingers and threatened to put her left eye out, the bloody blade hovering over her pupil only milimeters away, that her screams had died down to pitiful whimperings and she pleaded and gave her amen to everything they wanted to hear from her.

Then the blood splattered men pulled the wailing, agonized woman from the floor and with a gesture from the cleric heaved her up. While the smith grabbed for a rough rope and the other two held her up the priest started to read from his bible and intoned the words that should purify her.

Seeing what the men planned, Yazoo´s mother started struggling and pleading again, but her weak attempts to free herself were quelled with a hard punch to her swollen face and a wet crashing noise filled the air.

Blood oozed from her broken nose, dripping to the already wet floor and mercilessly the snare was pulled over her thin neck. The end of the rope was thrown over a beam under the roof, and while she clung with her broken hands to the sling the three men pulled her up, avoiding her struggling, frantic feet.

With unblinking eyes, Yazoo watched his mother´s death struggle, as she desperately tried to free herself, eyes almost popping out of her face, violet tongue hanging out of her mouth and face becoming red.

Her rattling and fighting only stopped after what seemed like an eternity.

The villagers meanwhile had fastened the rope and stood beside the priest, their expressions fanatic and gloating.

Eventually the cleric shut his bible and with a last glance at the dead woman instructed “Burn down this cradle of evil. And then search for her spawn. We cannot take any risks anymore.”

It didn´t took much more than stooping the fire where she had started to cook a soup over earlier and the flames started spreading fast, soon engulfing the back of the shack.

The villagers went out of the heat and smoke to gather more people and hunt the boys down, coming dangerously close to his hiding spot, but Yazoo did not move away.

He continued to watch the woman dangling from the roof, her dead eyes locked with his own empty ones.

Her screams were still shrilling in his ears, his mind and the blood -he could taste it in his mouth, unaware that it wasn´t hers but his own as he had bit his tongue to deter himself from joining her piercing song of agony and desperation.

The heat was already singeing his long hair, reaching out for his stiff figure but he didn´t see, didn´t feel. His every being was trapped in a block of ice, pulling him out of reality,out of time, out of everything. There was nothing around but cold, numbing nothingness. Only one single spot was left and that path guided directly towards her eyes…

“Yaz, gettaway!”

A rough hand pulled him away from the flames just in time and pushed him to the ground. Frantic arms shook him, asking insignificant questions about what had happened but he didn´t hear.

While Kadaj tried to get a word out of his middle brother, asking what was wrong, why the house was burning and generally fretting and being afraid, Loz clenched his hands in horror until his eyes went wide and he breathed “Motha!”.

Then he darted into the burning shack, ignoring Kadaj´s screams to stop.

Desperate and feeling utterly alone and helpless, the youngest clung to his shell-shocked brother, pleading with him to say something and wake up. It was then that he did the only right thing,- even though it was more of a reflexe- and slapped his brother square in the face.

Blinking, Yazoo looked at him as if he´d see Kadaj for the first time, but then he noticed the fire and his instincts set in.

Numbly grabbing the sobbing boy by the shoulders he pulled him away from the angry flames that licked at their cloths and reached far into the sky already. Spitting and biting, stinking smoke filled the clearing.

“Where´s Loz?” The middle brother shook his hysteric little brother, noticing the oldest´s absence just now, but Kadaj only pointed to the burning hut.

Yazoo mechanically pushed Kadaj away, absently ordering him to stay put and went towards their home that already looked dangerously close to collapsing at any moment.

Hiding his face behind an arm to shield it against the angry flames, his eyes wandered over the shack. It wasn´t necessary for him to enter the house, though, because only seconds later the bulky frame of the oldest emerged from the flames as he hauled the scorched body of their mother behind him, his dusty face only clean where his tears smeared the ash.

“I had ta get her, we can´t leave motha, she´ll burn!”

Yazoo didn´t have time to say something, as his delicate ears noticed the sound of an approaching mob.

Running back to Kadaj, he pulled the crying boy into his arms and together they fled deeper into the woods, stumbling over roots and branches. It was their luck that they were so familiar with the forest or else they would just have broken their thin necks.

But so their instincts drove them towards the next safe place they knew, namely a cave hidden by a waterfall. It wasn´t directly behind the stream of water, but on the edge of the small lake that gathered the water falling from above. It had been their secret place since ever; Kadaj had had found it only by accident and they always withdrew here when their mother had one of her choleric attacks.

Letting the sobbing Kadaj slip from his arms and setting him down on the cold stone, Yazoo leaned against the unrefined, wet wall, exhausted. Kadaj had become quite heavy recently.

Out of the corner of his eye, the long haired brother observed how Loz struggled with the corpse of their mother, but eventually he carefully laid her on the ground, gently removing the rope from her neck with his big, trembling hands.

Death was by no means a foreign concept to them, people were dying frequently, so Yazoo had no idea why Loz would have taken her with them and would have probably said something about it if he had been with them.

But he was not. Or at least not mentally.

So he just watched, blinking lazily, how Kadaj went over, kneeling beside his oldest brother and looking concernedly at his mother, while nervously glancing at the hidden entrance once in a while.

The sun had gone down almost completely, and the humid cavern became darker and darker, the shadows claiming their territory.

And soon enough they heard them.

While Loz was sitting with his back against the wet walls, stroking over their mother´s head and silently sobbing and assuring her that everything was alright, Yazoo leaning opposite and staring emptily at them without seeing, Kadaj crouched by the entrance, tightly informing them “Dey comin´.”

Panic was apparent on his boyish face as he expectantly looked at his brothers, seeking for instructions. Or at least some reassuring words. All he got was another sob and Loz protectively hunching over his mother´s abused body. Yazoo did not react at all.

Pressing his lips together, the littlest went deeper into their hideout, huddled in a corner and wrapped his arms around his bend legs, just staring at the entrance and hoping they wouldn´t find it.

Voices echoed through the nightly forest and a red light flickered outside, but it was faint.

The boys were lucky that all dogs had run away by now or had fallen victim to an altered diet, because otherwise they probably would have been found.

But so they sat tight through the night, tensely listening to the angry screams of the mob and hoping for the best, not able to even think about sleeping.

When daybreak came and the voices had faded for a while now, Kadaj assumed that they had probably given up or at least taken a break and he untangled his sour limbs.

Carefully moving towards the entrance, he peeked outside, but could not spot any of their pursuers. Crawling back, he shook Yazoo by the shoulder, licking his lips and whispering “I thing dey´re gone now.”

He got no reaction apart from an idle blink, and giving his brother an uncertain, scrutinizing look Kadaj went over to Loz. Trying to avoid his mother´s glassy eyes that were staring at him from the oldest´s lap, he poked Loz in the arm, repeating his observation. The big boy glanced up, eyes swollen and red, but apart from a helpless look Kadaj did not get much from out of him either.

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Kadaj went back to his former spot and waited for either of his brothers to do something.

After what seemed like an eternity to him he finally opened his mouth again, facing Yazoo and suggesting “Dun ya thing we should like, go sumwhea else or sumthin?”

It was a futile attempt though, and eventually becoming too impatient and restless, the boy got to his feet, declaring “Let´s go.”

Loz looked up again, casting an unsure glance at Yazoo, but since no objection was made he just slowly got to his feet, carefully lifting the corpse up and taking the lifeless body piggyback with a grunt.

Kadaj threw them an awkward look, not knowing what to say about it. He was fairly certain that his mother was dead, but he wasn´t entirely sure. Since Yazoo said nothing AGAIN and just mechanically rose to his feet, the youngest just shrugged it off for the time being and together the little party went out into the wide, big world to find a new place to live.

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And thus Kadaj became the one in charge :)

Review please?