The Soul

Adonis, named for the winter he was born in, was playing in the dry dusty brook. He was small of frame, but strong of voice, Adonis was known for his boisterous attitude. Many attributed it to his father, a soldier that spent years at home while injured rubbing off on his son in the process. Unfortunately for the boy, war never rests, and his father just left again recently, and if it bothered the boy it was certainly hard to tell.

He grabbed one of the river rocks and studied it. The weeks of no water showed as dirt was caked on it. His father called it a curse, and Adonis knew no better.  He imagined himself covered in armor, a sword in hand, as the enemies of his people gathered just over to the northern side of the brook. Warlocks most assuredly. As Adonis stepped towards his enemies, stick sword in hand, a voice shot out from behind him.

“Have you always had such a knightly charm?” Adonis turned to see a girl, Abbie, who was not much older then him standing on the bridge that led over the brook. He huffed once, blushing. She knew this young man liked her and she found every moment to torment him for it.

“Haven’t you given me enough grief!” He screamed back at her.

“Oh I intend to,” she snickered,” but come on. Your supper is getting cold and we can’t have you getting sick too.” They marched back to the manor, about a half a mile from the would be battleground settling in for the evening, and enjoying a fine potato and venison stew between walls of hardened nails, lumber, and marble.

[7 hours later]

Adonis’s hand lined the halls as he walked following this distant echo. Everything seemed to pulse a radiant green. He walked the halls to the door, following what had turned into a soft siren’s song. He walked by the moonlight, all across the yard. And into the forest, before finding a deer trail. The melody had grown to a gradual crescendo. This deer trail opened up to a flowing sea of grass encircled by a wall of trees. A grove. 

A figure sat, hunchbacked atop a rock near the groves center. As Adonis approached, he felt his mind slip into unrest, his childish bravado giving way to a wave of fear and mystery. A flood of thoughts about the deaths of family, of Abbie. All dying to some cough. The figure coughed loudly as the images faded fixing itself facing the boy under a hooded gaze, and then it began to speak.

“The brook is dry, your people are sick and dying. Withering like the fields of barley planted barely a season ago. Rotting as all things will, but I can stave this rot. If you win my game, I will bring life to this dying hamlet, I will save your people.” A ghastly wheeze followed, then silence.

“A game?” Adonis asked, feeling his voice crack.

“Yes.” The hunchback replied.

Adonis was keen for games, had always been.  Though he felt as if it was anything but a game. This was the closest encounter he had ever had with something this paranormal in nature. “If I lose?”

“Oh dear Adonis.” the figure cackled sharply,” You will simply slip into a dream. A comforting visage.” Adonis bites at his cracked lips, we need that water. 

“O..ok.” Adonis could sputter

The figure stands on the rock, straightening out against a cloudy a sky, a fog was growing heavy over the grove. 

“This game is simple, I speak a riddle and you speak an answer.”

“I’m afraid.”

“No you’re not,” it gasped, “you’re perfect.” The figure said his hand caressing the air between them. His hand fell limply, as his hooded gaze fixed back on Adonis. “Now, what was her name? Her body fluid, her blood teeming with life. What was her name? The woman that has nurtured you without taking one breathe of life. What was her name?”

The boy thought for a moment, he wanted to say his mother at first, and but this seemed more advanced thing then that. This was unlike the children’s riddles. He listened for the sound of the water rushing nearby, it was always soothing to him. But nothing met his ear. Wait, that’s right! “Brook. Like the brook of our hamlet.”

“Very good, you may prove pleasing. For a child.” The figure raised his hand to his shoulder, where on his pack there was a lantern. He grabbed it and held it out in front of him, towards Adonis. “Now. What is this form? The garden of antiquity, inside a slew of wealth. Though my own contains little. What is this form?”

Adonis put his hand on his chin, a pose he saw his father strike a time or two. It didn’t seem to help much. A wind picked up washing the pair in some strong set of breeze, from the east. Wealth? Garden of Antiquity? Adonis could barely tell you what antiquity meant but he was unsure of something that grew in antiquity. Unless it was something meant to be kept safe. That’s it! “A vault!” Adonis barked.

“Very good. You have a keen ear and eye for a child, it would be a shame if you happened upon such a vault. Such a shame.”

“You’re own vault? What use is a vault without any value?”

“You may just find out.” the figure cackled.

Adonis couldn’t help but gulp at this thought. He was colder now then when he had left his bed. His warm bed. The thought of it’s covers and sheets flooded his mind and washed out a bit of the fear that was there, but a quick wind pulled him right back out of it. “Alright, now the final question, and my people will be healthy again? We will have water for everyone?”

“Just one more.” It said with a hollow groan. “Now, what do I keep in my vault? The gem of the mind. Our own eternity, our own promise, what do I keep in my vault?”

Adonis breathed heavily. While meeting the being had been different to say the least, these questions had driven him up a wall. He was shaking, his breath forming out in front of him as the morning cold seemed settled with this new wind. But it couldn’t be this cold just from the wind, it was something else. Something in the air. He held himself lightly trying to rub his hands under his arms till they would warm as he pondered the riddle. What could be our own eternity our own promise? Some sort of heaven? But why word it in such a way? Our own eternity. “H-heaven”.

The being straightened up, the maw of his hood forming teeth as two eyes peered out high under the hood a bright red color. A piercing set of cracks and groans filled the air as the coat was shifted and torn as the form of the hunchback took on a much more menacing shape. “Such a shame.”