Chronologous
A pale ray of
morning sunlight shone through a gap in the silky, cobalt-blue curtains. What a burning way to start a day, thought
Conrard, as the ray was directed right at his sleepy eyelids. A glance at the grandfather clock told him
it’s well past 7.00. “I’m bloody late!”
he cursed in alarm, and sprang up from the bed in a flash. Conrard was a lean, young man, of about 175
cm. in height. He has long, gleaming
hair swept back over his brows, their color as black as night. His eyes were molten gold, filled with a
sense of casual, natural even, arrogance.
After a quick leap to in the shower, he strode to a large mahogany
wardrobe to pick up his working suits.
All of them were the same shade of black, but he chose the suit to the
left most, with a grey tie adorned with intricate vine-like patterns to go with
it. Conrard was in such a hurry that he
stumbled twice, and nearly received an intimate kiss from the smooth marble
floor on the second time. Whew, that
was close, he sighed in relieve, and continue preparing for the morning
trip. Finally, he set off to his black, oaken
dressing table to pick up the last objects before going to work. A BMW car key, an oxford university’s
professor identification tag, and an old, dust covered tome. And the mystery of this book still puzzles
me, pondered Conrard, lost in his thought.
He found the ancient book under his basement a couple of days ago. It was written in some kind of Medieval
English, so he had no idea what any of the texts meant. That had spurred him to carry the tome alongside
him to a colleague at Oxford, who may be able to translate its meaning. Conrard pick up the various items and ran out
the door to work. What he didn’t know was
that the day is not going to be a usual work routine, but something else
entirely.
Chapter
1
Thud.
Conrard laid the ancient tome upon the surface of his metallic-grey working
table. Phew, just in time. I guess the extreme speed ride was worth it. Conrard sigh and loosen his necktie. He had race his car all the way to the
university, cutting lanes, passing red lights, and gears the BMW into the most
exhilarating maneuvers possible. An
experience that I would never missed.
He sat down on his comfy ebon leather chair, and absorbs the room’s
unique aroma. His office was
medium-sized, packed with several bookcases along the side of the room. Between them were numerous shelves and
cabinets, filled with ancient relics and artifacts. At the room’s entrance, opposite to the door,
was a full suit of German gothic plate armor.
The collection had a strange smell to them, as if sensing the decades
and centuries they have endured. As he
was lost in thought, Conrard’s cellphone vibrated with a loud, Whirmph
“Hello…”
“Conrard, are you
at the university yet? I mean, with the
book.”
“Oh yes,
Nick!” He had totally forgotten that he
had promised to hand Nick the medieval book for inspection, first thing in the
morning.
“On my way,
mate.” Conrard replied as he grabbed the
tome and started his walk toward the door.
Then something strange happened.
The runes on the back of the book came alive with a brilliant auriferous
glow. The book’s title, previously dim
and unreadable, shone and letter out its name, Chronolosgue. An endless, pitch-black void suddenly opened
itself beneath Conrard’s steps, covering the entire area of the office’s
carpeted floor. The black hole swirled violently like a giant whirlpool beneath
Conrard’s feet. The only thought that came to his mind was, This thing looks
like a wormhole from one of those sci-fi movies. Then a
monstrous force flushed him into the void before he could comprehend the
situation.
“Ah!!” he screamed
for dear life, as Conrard fell down into the bottomless darkness.
Chapter
2
Conrard
was still dazed when her fist come crashing into his face. Crunch! And things were still cloudy when he was on
the ground, his fingers swiping at the nose and found that it was matted with
blood. Red, mused Conrard, so I am
still alive? Only when the various
kinds of fruits and others projectiles were flown towards him that the
recollect his senses. As he ran around,
dodging the miscellaneous objects being thrown at him, Conrard looked up at the
cottage’s roof. There was a large hole
in the yellowish-straw and mud patchwork.
Which I came down from, he thought. The young woman currently attacking him had a
fair face, with hazel-brown curls and light brown eyes as soft as a doe’s. Although right now, her gaze at him wasn’t
exactly gentle.
“Wait, mam, let me
explain. “ Conrard started off with his most beguiling tone. At least that’s what he told himself.
“Eek!” was the
lady’s only reply, as she flung a rusted iron kettle at him. How am I wrong, when the only thing she
did was screaming at me? he pondered
and crouched down to dodge the projectile.
Before they could continue their alternation, a huge knight, clad in a
full suit of plate, burst through the wooden door.
“Brother!” the
young lady cried out in relieves.
Conrard was in quite a different situation. Oh crap, he thought in distress.
“That peculiar way
of dressing, a bloody French spy?” the knight bellowed at furiously him. Double crap.
“Wait! The only French word I could say was
Bonjour!” he replied in alarm. Without
listening, the knight rushed at Conrard, his steel great sword drawn out. Conrard barely sidestepped the opening upward
slash, the blade missing him by only an inch.
Fortunately, an agedly man, enshrouded in a grey, hooded robe, appeared
in the door way, “Stop what you are doing, Haste!” he chided with a voice as
loud as thunder.
“Elder, why? I was
going to hack this invader into pieces.”
“That man was no
invader, but an old acquaintance of mine.”
His answer shocked Conrard as much as the regal knight.
“Besides, Seira
had been taken hostage by Red Scar’s outlaw band. The lord of Manchester requests your
aid.”
“Seira. Damn it!”
Haste cursed before sprinting out the door way, followed by his
sister. After the two had left, Conrard
asked the elderly man, “Why are you helping me?”
“That is a mystery
you would need to solve for yourself.
But know this, your journey hare wasn’t a coincidence. You were destined to be here by fate, and
only the quest to save Seira would unlock a gateway back to where you came
from.”
“And why should I
put faith in you words?”
“You do not have to,
just remember this: The magic lurks inside you.”
At seeing a troop of knights
mounted on their mud-brown stallions, Conrard inquired. “So, please remind me, where am I,
anyway?”
“This is England,
in the year 1353, and we are in the village of Manchester.” The elder replied with a curious smile.
Chapter
3
Clip-clop,
The hooves of Conrard’s horse trot upon the brown dirt road. As their party passed through a low canopy
that lead into the forest’s interior, Ellain fall in beside him. She was Haste’s sister, the lady he first met
on his arrival to this era. After two
days of traveling in the woods, he got to know her much better. She was quick and agile, a superb cook, yet
deadly with a crossbow. After the time
they had spent together he had learnt to admire her strength of mind and
personality. And she is quite a
beauty too, mused Conrard
“Are you gazing up
at the sky again?” Ellain brushed away
the hazel-brown curl that fell down in front of her face. “What a peculiar individual you are, in the
way of speaking, dressing, and gazing up longingly at the clear blue sky.”
“Well, at least
you now know that I’m not a French, most of all a spy?” he replied with a
playful smile. His only reply was here
laughter, which was as clear as the ringing of bells on windy days. As they were continuing with their talk and
jests, Haste suddenly reined up his mud-brown rouncy and stopped the party’s
advance.
“What is it?”
Conrard inquired the regal-looking knight.
Haste was clad in a shiny steel plate that shone brightly against the
sun light. His brown rough-spun cloak
hung limply upon the rouncy’s flank, and droplets of sweat glistened against
his dark brown hair.
“Here, the tracks
made by Red Scar’s band.” He dismounted
and examined a trail of horse hoof prints left upon the muddy road. As Conrard and Ellain dismounted alongside
him, Haste whispered in a confident tone, “They are still fresh, a few hours at
most. We are near.”
After a few hours
of riding, a ragged encampment surrounded by a simple wall of timber, came into
view. The sounds of drinking and
partying filled the still forest air, and campfires blazed against the dark of
night. A band of outlaws were dancing
festively around, while swinging mugs of ale or dueling with each other. In the center, of the band, besides the most
viciously burning campfire, stood Red Scar.
A terrible crimson scar stretched across his face, from his right eye to
will below the chin. Dry blood clung
grotesquely upon the grievous wound. The
outlaw was clad in rusted mail, with a layer of sweat-stained boiled leather
beneath. Strapped to his waist was a
black falchion, its edge still crusted with the dry, black Hood of people he had
killed. Conrard and his party were
hidden behind a layer of shrubbery that hid them from the bandit’s view.
“Is that him?”
Conrard asked with difficulty, as he gazed intently at the bandit chief.
“That infamous scar,
and the grim falchion strapped to his side.
He is definitely the nefarious Red Scar, leader of the most vicious
outlaw group in all of England.” replied
Haste. The knight’s tone was dangerously
threatening, and his eyes gleamed with hatred at the sight of Red Scar.
“So, what should
we do now?” Ellain whispered in a hushed
voice, her tone full of worry.
“Charge in, run
the bastards through, and save Seira.” The
knight grunted and leaps over the undergrowth.
He then rushed
straight into the bandit gathering. A lone bandit draining his jug of ale in
the forest’s dark corner noticed Haste, and lifted up his throwing axe in
alarm. Even before he could respond, Haste ran the bandit through with his
great sword, crimson blood bathing the sword’s wooden hilt. By the time Conrard
and Ellain had managed to reach the clearing, several outlaws had been alarmed
of the intruders’ presence. They rushed in like feral dogs, thirsty for the
stream of killing and carnage. A towering brute charged toward Haste, swinging
his monstrous morning star at the knight’s unprotected face. Without a moment’s
hesitation, Haste dodged the bandit’s attack and stabbed his blade through the
man’s heart. The giant fell down with a soulless thud, but other outlaws rushed
into fill his place. Ellaine sprayed the outlaws with her crossbow bolts, each
of them falling down with an arrow head protruding from their chest.
From behind, a
ragged savage swung his blade in an upward slash, aiming for Conrard’s head.
Conrard did his best to parry the attack with his shabby quarterstaff, and ran
around dodging the following blows frantically. When he finally caught the man
on surprise and slammed the butt of his stave against the outlaw’s skull,
Conrard looked around to assess the current situation. Most of the bandits had
fallen to Haste’s blade, and the few who survived had ran away in fear and trepidation.
However, he saw no sign of Ellain.
Conrard searched the wooded area, and finally spotted her leaning against
a large oak. Besides her stood a grim warrior, clad in rusted mail and holding
a black, twisted falchion in his grip.
“Red Scar!”
Conrard gasped as he recognized the nefarious criminal. He shouted at the top
of his lung to inform Haste. Before the knight could reach Ellain, three wickedly
armed bandits leaped out from beneath the underbrush and engaged him in combat.
Swoosh!
Red scar’s black iron
falchion rose high over Ellain’s head.
Haste was stuck in battle with the three bandit lieutenants, grunting and
cursing every time he parried their attacks.
As the blade hacked down, Conrard cried at the top of his lungs, “No!” He was too far to rescue Ellain, and only
equipped with a wooden staff besides.
I want to be
stronger, Conrard thought to himself, I want to be able to protect her. With that, the runes upon the magical tome
glowed with a golden light. Vicious gale
swept through the deciduous forest and leaves flew like a rain of spears. As Conrard rushed toward the bandit chief,
his instincts seem to tell him what to do.
It was always hidden beneath me, lurking, enshrouded by my own
consciousness. Now, I just hope that
this plan would works. He flipped
through the ancient book and shouted out the only magical spell that comes to
mind.
“Earthos Waul!,”
The earth rumbled and roared to his command, heaving like a giant beast. A solid wall of humus and stone rose between
Ellain and Red Scar just in time as the sword slash came down.
Shiank!
The iron blade
scraped against one of the stone chunk, and sparks flew like flaming arrows in
the darkness.
“What in the
world?” cursed the outlaw chief, as he instinctively retreated away from the magical
earth wall.
“I would say this
is for hurting Ellaine, but also because I just want to burn you to a crisp.”
said Conrard. His tone was so chilling
that it would instilled fear into the heart of even a seasoned bandit like Red
Scar.
“Hellies
Infernos!” A monstrous, scorching
ball of flame rocketed forward and devours everything in its path, lighting the
entire forest in an eerie orange glow. The hell’s inferno leaves only flames
and ashes in its wake, along with the trails of fire, death, and destruction.
Froom! The ashen forest
combusted relentlessly, as flaming tree trunks fell down with showers of
sparks. The air was smoke and sulfur,
but it did nothing to hide the gruesome smell of charred flesh. Among
the burning remnants laid a body, charred so badly that he was recognizable
only by the black, dented falchion by his side.
As Conrard lifted his gazed form what remained of Red Scar, he turned
around and wrapped Ellain in a warm and passionate embrace.
“Are you alright?”
Conrard asked in a tone full of concern.
At that moment he felt his heart beat a little faster, and nothing in
the world seems to matter besides the two of them. Conrard lifted up his hand and gently wipe
out Ellain’s tears.
“I was so scared.”
She replied with a shaky voice, and hugged him even more tightly. As Ellain was recovering, Haste had rescued
Seira from one of the camp’s largest tents.
A fair maiden with black hairs and eyes, she looked more shocked than
terrified by the entire occurrence.
After Haste had help her onto the reins of his rouncy, he mounted in
just behind and made a signal to Conrard and Ellain.
“It’s time we get
back home.” Haste whispered, and
together the party galloped toward the rising sun.
Almost immediately
after they had arrived in Manchester, Haste and Ellain were called in to have
an audience with the lords and barons, to reward them for the great deeds they
had done. Conrard sat upon a rocky grey
boulder by the river bank and gazed at the slow flowing, crystal clear
water. His mind went back to the moment
he had rescued Ellain. Conrard’s heart
skipped a beat when he thought about holding her in his arms, and the surge of
tenderness and joy he felt during that time. He clenched his fist together in
frustration and confusion about this feeling within his heart.
After a while, he
lax his clenched fists, both of them white from the strain enforced. While he
stared at his open palm, Conrard recalled back to his long, almost-forgotten
past. He was always the quiet one in
school, sitting way back at the end of class.
Other kids would go off with their friends for lunch, but he always sat
there, on the grim, solitude bench, all alone.
Once in a while, however, she would sit on the seat across to him, with
her bright, shining smile upon those lips.
After a long, suffocating silence, she would always asked him those same
questions, in a soft, caring tone. ‘How
was your day?’ They were short, simple
words, yet their warmth simmered deep within his heart. She was his first love, his only love, and he
could not believe anyone would be able to replace her. Yet, just now with Ellain, how did he felt
so… in love?
While he was lost
in thought, the village elder appeared from behind, and sat down besides
Conrard. “Did you know? Haste is going
to be ordained into England’s order of the Garter, as a reward for rescuing the
Lord of Manchester’s daughter. He also had plans to wed Seira by the end of
this year.” The old man’s only response
was the uttering silence that followed.
“I heard you had
found the key to going back within yourself,” the elder continued, “what are
you going to do now?”
That’s exactly
the problem, Conrard cogitated. His
troubled gazed was fixated on the elder’s kindly face as he replied, “Do you
suggest any alternative?”
“Whatever you do,
decide on it quickly. The time portal
spell could only be cast on the night of the full moon, which is tonight. Once that is passed, the gate would close
forever.” The elder ended his answer
with a startling fact. “I will ask
again, what will you do?”
Huff-huff, The
young woman was red-faced from running, her hazel-brown curls clinging to her
sweat-stained face. She approached an
agedly man that is snoring peacefully, and shook him on the shoulders.
“Where is Conrard?” Ellain questioned the
elder, who was slouching on a low, wooden bench stationed prior to her
house. “I had looked for him all over
the place.” Ellaine was distraught. She
had something she direly wanted to tell that strange, yet surprisingly warm and
compassionate stranger, before he forever disappeared from her life.
“He went back.”
The agedly man replied in a strangely casual tone, his eyes still cloudy from
sleep.
“What did you mean
by that? Did he go somewhere?” Ellaine
inquired, puzzled by the ambiguous answer.
Her brows knitted together in confusion.
“Young one, “the
elder explained calmly, “Conrard went back to where he came from, a place
beyond our mind and grasp. He is gone
now.”
Am I too late? Ellaine
thought to herself. She stood there
frozen in place. “Oh,” the elder called
out, “he also left you this.” He handed
a thin paper scroll to her. She unrolled
the parchment and started to read the letter’s contents.
Dear Ellain,
You
probably wouldn’t know it, but I was charmed by you from the first time we had
met. Our adventure together only served to
intensify the feeling, to a level that it could be called “love”. All of those feelings, however, were masked
by my arrogant, will full, and headstrong nature, and never made it to
you. Now I regret it. I regret that I had time with you, but never fully
appreciate it. I regret that I truly
love you, but never put my effort into expressing it. And I regret that I should have face you with
more courage, and be truer to my heart.
Now I have lost them all, and no matter what I do I couldn’t bring them
back. The final words that I would like
to tell you, to be able to finally pour out the contents of my heart and tell
you, is that I love you. Truly, madly,
deeply, I am in love with you. And no
matter how long the decades that sets us apart, I will always love you…
With
Love and Farewell,
Conrard
As sparkling drops
of tears trickled down Ellain’s rosy, pink cheeks, she whispered softly, “All
this time, I had felt the same about you.” Her big hazel-brown eyes were
brimming with tears, and she brushed them away with the back of her hand.
“How could you
leave without saying a word, a good bye?”
Her body trembled slightly as she sobbed, not being able to control
herself. The parchment was now splotched
with teardrops, and more dropped down onto the paper with a soft, squishy, pae. “When I finally fell in love with someone for
the first time, why do you have to leave?”
Ellain cried out, as the rain fell down and mixed with her tears. She knew it was stupid and foolish, but she still
wanted to hope that he would appear beside her, and wiped away these
tears. While Ellain was standing in the
rain, soaked and crying her heart out, a firm hand grabbed her and pulled the
young women into a warm embrace.
“I just cannot do
it, leaving without you.” The mysterious
stranger sighed. Ellain looked up only
to cry out in astonishment. “Conrard!”
Tears of joy welled up in her eyes, “Didn’t you leave?”
“I was about to,
but decided against it and came back to you.”
Conrard replied with a smile.
“For I had fallen in love with you, Ellaine.”
“And I thought you
would never say that!”
Then the two of them kissed
passionately under the moonlit rain, and the starry sky.
