The Angaran Chronicles: The Ritual, BAD Agar [you can read anyone txt] 📗

screamed again, but his mother's psychotic shrieks eclipsed him as she was taken down the stairs by the dwarf and another human.

 

She hissed curse after curse, her dressing gown crunched and wavered frantically as she fought, but they were too strong.

 

Alathis bet his fists against the back of the Rule Enforcer, but it only took two blows before it hurt his hands.

 

They carried him outside. The sun blared into his eyes, but he still saw his mum being carried out after him.

 

'Son,' she screamed, reaching for him.

 

'Mummy!' Alathis cried and thrust his hand for hers; then again the world spun so fast it took Alathis a few seconds to realise he'd placed been onto his bare feet.

 

There he saw the skinny man with long white hair which seemed to reflect the sun like a mirror. He wore an old, furry brown suit with yellow and blue stripes. He leaned against a black automobile, a Celentara XI. His arms folded over his chest.

 

Alathis recognised him then and had no idea how he hadn't earlier.

 

'Dad,' he yelled, ran up to his father and wrapped his arms around him.

 

'Everything will be alright, Alathis,' dad said. 'Everything will be alright.'

 

 

His dad, Nana and Granda looked down at him, concern plain on their faces.

 

Alathis smiled up at them, as he played with the petrol station Fun Blocks toy they'd just given him.

 

'Alathis,' said his Nana as she knelt to his height. She was a plump lady with a round, face as friendly as her. Her white hair was cut short. 'What did your mummy feed you?'

 

He pursed his lips, confused by the question. 'Biscuits, mostly,' he said. 'I like the ones with chocolate and wheat! Thank you for the Fun Blocks, Nana.'

 

'That's...that's all right,' said Nana, her eyes shone with tears.

 

'When will I see mummy again?' said Alathis.

 

His father, Nana and Granda exchanged looks.

 

'One day,' said Granda. 'One day.'

 

 

The next day, Alathis and dad travelled north, to Isstarrsia's largest city: Zalkaland. An eight-hour drive.

 

There Alathis lived with his father in his large, fancy house. His dad once said, "it wasn't big enough to be a mansion, but not small enough to be just a house."

 

Months later, Alathis was drawing at the living room table when the rotary phone rang a belling, shrill chorus. His dad walked in and snatched up the receiver.

 

'Hello?...Jalkenson...It's about time you got back to me...What happened to the shipment?... What in Jaroai's name do you mean by, "seized?"...They're saying they are counterfeits?...No; they fucking aren't...No...No I'm not going to take this lying down. I'm fighting this...Yes...Yes, I know the Custom Enforcer act claims guilty before proven innocent. But by Jaroai I am innocent. We're going to court, and that's final.'

 

Dad slammed the receiver down causing a loud 'ding!' to reverberate from the bells and turned on him. It caused shivering pain made of fear to well within Alathis.

 

'I'm sorry if I scared you, little buddy,' said dad. 'Don't worry; everything will be alright.'

 

Laughing, Alathis ran through the long, long main hallway of his dad's house, chasing his friend: Danult, who was the son of Alathis' dad's lawyer, Jalkenson. Danult laughed along with him. The carpet white carpet Alathis' feet, it felt like burning. When he'd first come, Alathis couldn't walk very far without the pain overcoming him. He could get quite a bit further now. But couldn't begin to keep up with Danult though he was two years younger. Alathis' dad had said it was because his mum had locked him up and that'd weakened him.

 

He hoped it'd get better soon.

 

They'd packed everything and stuffed it into his father's truck. Then they drove and drove out of the city and far into the country.

 

'Why are we leaving Zalkaland, dad?' said Alathis, while watching the farmlands pass by. He kicked his heels, his feet too short to touch the truck's floor.

 

'I...we can't stay there any more, Alathis,' said dad.

 

'Aww. What? Why? What about my friends?'

 

'I'm sorry, Alathis. But...but dad has got into trouble, and you will make new friends. I'm sure.'

 

'But-'

'No buts, son. That is that alright? Don't worry. Just, don't worry, okay?'

 

Alathis pursed his lips but kept his mouth shut.

 

 

It was the morning of Alathis' sixth birthday, and he sat on his bed opening his last present. He yelled in joy when he found it was a Fun Blocks castle.

 

'Look, dad. Look. Look what Nana and granda gave me.'

 

'That's...really nice, Alathis,' said dad as he watched with a stern look on his face.

 

Alathis smiled and gazed out the window at the beautiful day and the lush bush outside. The bus they lived in wasn't as fancy as the house in Zalkaland. But Alathis didn't mind; it was really neato and really long. It didn't have power or running water or a toilet. The toilet was what his dad called a 'long drop', and it was a long walk down a path. At first, Alathis was scared to go there, especially at night. But now he was brave enough to walk there alone.

 

But there wasn't a present from dad, and last year, when they'd lived in Zalkaland, his dad had made him an awesome cake made in the shape of an automobile.

 

'Dad,' Alathis didn't mind, but he just had to ask. 'Where's...where's your present?'

 

Dad's face fell, like a collapsing Fun Blocks castle. 'I...I'm sorry, buddy. But...this year...I...We're going to have creamy ice with chocolate sauce tonight, instead. Alright?'

 

Despite his disappointment, Alathis nodded and smiled. 'Okay.'

 

A smile split dad's face, and he sighed. 'Good...That's good. Now hurry and get ready. You've still got to get to Scholarium.'

 

'Aww. But it's my birthday.'

 

Dad grinned. 'Too bad, buddy. Not even the Avatar or Jaroai himself could stop you from getting an education.'

 

Alathis frowned. 'Dad, why do we never go to church like everyone else?'

 

The grin fled dad's face. 'Because in a world like this...We'll talk on this later, bud. Just get ready, alright?'

 

'Alright, dad,' groaned Alathis.

 

Chapter 4: A New Life

 Alathis was standing in the training room again, blinking back tears. Then, he'd no idea how hard it was for his father, but now he knew.

 

They had barely enough money to survive, yet live.

 

For the millionth time, he wondered, what happened to dad? Alathis had a good idea about his mother. She was locked in an insane asylum. He'd hated his mother when he was young, but the Hunters had taught him what she did wasn't her fault, that she was mentally ill and what she did, she did with the best of intentions. It'd been hard, but because of this, he'd forgiven her. He hoped to see them again, but he doubted it. Alathis sighed, and with a weak arm, he cut the air twice. He needed to change his train of thought, so he did.

 

What name was he to take? He'd been reading over the histories and couldn't decide. He liked Anargrin, but the current Anargrin was still alive and one of the most elite and eldest Hunters around today. And it was an elven name.

 

Alathis sighed. His father had named him after a best friend from childhood; A friend who'd joined the Isstarssian army to fight in the seventeenth war against Camaria and never seen again.

 

In all honesty, Alathis didn't want to change his name. He knew it was necessary, just in case he ran into a relative and to dodge governmental identification.

 

Assuming he survived the Ritual, of course.

 

Alathis frowned and looked at the doorway...

 

 

Alathis was twelve when the main door of his and his father's new house was smashed from its hinges and crashed against the wall.

 

Alathis and his father were working on Alathis' homework, and neither even had time even to flinch before the soldiers stormed in. Their rifles aimed at them.

 

'What the hell-?' His father was interrupted by a rifle butt crunching into his face. Blood blossomed from his nose, and he was sent sprawling off his chair and to the floor.

 

'Dad!' Alathis screamed, he leapt off his chair to help his father but stopped as he saw the tall, thin, wizened old woman step into the house. She wore the white and gold robes of a priest of Jaroai, her face set in a scowl, and she glared down at the seated Alathis as she towered over him.

 

'Is this the one, ma'am?' said one of the soldiers.

 

'He is,' the priestess said. 'Your name, it is Alathis.'

 

Alathis nodded, even though it wasn't a question.

 

'What do you want with my son?' roared dad as he started to stand, but a soldier pressed his knee on his back, pinning him.

 

The priestess' gaze never left Alathis'. 'You should know this, young Alathis. You are very special.'

'I-I am?'

 

'Indeed you are,' she said. 'You are blessed. You are one of the chosen. The chosen of His holiness, the almighty Jaroai. He has given you, in all His eternal wisdom, the gift of Magical Potential.'

 

Alathis couldn't form a reply.

 

'Jaroai has chosen you, despite the lack of faith of your heathen father. I know he does not attend the holy gatherings and thus, you do not, either. But Jaroai is forgiving, He loves all, and He knows it is not your fault. Your father's decisions are not your own. Unlike your pathetic father, you are destined for greatness, Alathis. You are destined to one day become like me, to one day speak His word.'

 

The old woman's withered hand reached to take Alathis', but Alathis snatched it away.

 

'No,' Alathis said, trying to inject bravery into his tone. 'I don't believe in Jaroai. I want to stay with my dad. Go away.'

 

The woman's face went red with rage.

 

'Foolish child. You are lucky you do not live in Camaria, boy. Or you would be killed for such blasphemy! You might not believe in Him now, but I assure you, you soon will.'

 

'Take him,' she snarled, and two soldiers slipped past her and grabbed Alathis before he could react.

 

'No,' Alathis screamed as he struggled in their strong grips. 'Let me go.'

 

'Alathis,' his father roared. 'Don't take my son. Please. He's all I have.'

 

The crone looked down at Alathis' dad.

 

Rage seemed to rip through his father and with newfound strength, he writhed and twisted to get free of the soldier's knee, but it was all for nothing. 'Give me back my son! Or-'

 

'Or you will what, heathen?' she said. 'You dare threaten me? I should kill you for that. But I am a merciful soul.'

 

'But-'

 

'But nothing. If you utter any more words, I will consume you with Jaroai's holy fire. Believe me, Mr Idris Setrin. You do not want to die like that. There are very few more agonising deaths in this existence.'

 

Before Alathis could hear more, he was hauled outside.

 

 

The truck came to a sudden stop, as did the four military Jeeps following close behind. Alathis and the other children flinched as curses erupted from behind the wall of the driver's area. The children, about a dozen, including to everyone's confusion four elves and two dwarves, due to them being unable to have magical potential glanced about in fear and uncertainty. Then the first behind them Jeep exploded, causing the children to scream and cover their ears. Alathis watched as the vehicle was lifted into the air, wreathed in fire.

 

Then came the gunfire, it erupted from the surrounding trees, cutting down soldiers as they raised their rifles. A