The Tale of Chronos

[Malcor Sylverwood]

FOREWORD

This is a raw writing. It started as a reflections post, but took on a life of its own. It was simply typed into a quick reply box, and hasn't even been proofread. But, since I feel it outgrew my reflections thread, I decided to put it here. So, here it is. Also, I'm calling it part one, but I don't know if I will revisit it or not.

-Malcor "Rambling" Sylverwood

[Malcor Sylverwood]

Chronos tightens his black cloak around him, the wind had taken an unnatural chill. Looking down at his lantern, he sighs heavily. While the magical flame would never be extinguished and would brighten at his desire, it would never produce any heat. That seemed to sum up his luck, something good but not great or something bad but not horrible.

It was, perhaps, time to move on. Chronos, The Hermit, dared not linger too long once that cold, ghostly wind began to blow. He was fated to wander, probably for all time. Thus, his name, Chronos. He was not the Chronos of legend, the titan, nor father time. He is simply a man, albeit one who carries a curse. Nor was Chronos his only name, yet it was who he was and will be.

Rising from the low stone wall that surrounds this city's park, Chronos shifts from one foot to the other, trying to get the blood flowing again. The feeling that he'd stayed too long washed over him and he knew there would be evil to pay for it. Shifting the bundle on his back, he takes one last look around. Although he couldn't even recall the name of the city, he knew the park had been good to him. It had allowed him to escape his fate for a short while. But that was the trap and now he'd stayed too long, he had invited the evil into this sacred place. Where they had been green leaves, sparkling water, and sunshine aplenty there now was only a murky darkness...and the wind of the damned.

Chronos draws up his hood and pulls the cloak tight. He walks away from that park in that unnamed city and promises himself that he won't look back. But the promise is futile, the call is too strong. Even the darkness and the cold wind that has usurped the memory has a certain fatalistic pull. Looking over his shoulder, the hermit trudges on.

A single lonely tear rolls unnoticed down his cheek, falling soundlessly to the dying land.

[Malcor Sylverwood]

Chronos moves through the unnamed city, his strides long and purposeful. He hopes than by expediating his withdrawal from this place, perhaps something good would still be left behind. Normally, the decision to walk away when the cold wind began to blow was the hard part, yet something told him this leavetaking was not yet over.

He turns a corner onto the main thoroughfare, leaving the park behind him, safely out of sight. He breathes a little easier, or at least he tells himself he does. Although daylight is rapidly fading, the streets are busy, teeming with people. Although the people cannot feel the demon wind as Chronos can, they still are able to sense it and move along a little more quickly than normal. So, they bustle about, not talking, just eager to get home. Crowds had never truly affected Chronos, and he moved effortlessly down the dusty street never breaking stride. People seemed to just move out of his way, not out of fright or anyother feeling. It was just as if they never noticed him but unconsciously avoided any contact. Although he had seen this effect hundreds of times and was quite used to it, this time was different. This city had been different. The people had noticed him, and not just his darkened and cloaked visage. They had seen past all that to see him, yet apparently the approach of the cold wind signalled an end to even that. Now he could not even bear to look at there faces, faces that had once smiled were now only blurry and darkened smudges, much as the park had darkened.

Seeing these haunted faces moving around blindly was too much. Chronos quickened his pace and stared at his feet, trusting in his ability to pass unnoticed through a crowd to carry him through unmolested.

And so he walked, disheartened, to the towering gates of the unnamed city. And then the difficulty he knew was coming, showed its face--not in the form of some terrible monster, nor even a band of thugs...but instead in the form of the gatekeeper.

"Hold there, Chronos. The gate's closed for the night. There be a storm a coming, " came the call from the gatekeeper.

"You have no idea, " Chronos whispers under his breath. Then it dawns on him that the gatekeeper still recognized him, something that hadn't happend before. Dragging his gaze up from his feet, he looks up at the gatekeeper.

And the hermit remembers everything.

[Malcor Sylverwood]

The memory flows into Chronos, like wine into a goblet. They are warm and comfortable, much like his tattered cloak. But, like his cloak, even the warmth of those memories cannot drive away the cold wind blowing at his back, blowing through him.

Unable to speak through the deluge in his mind, Chronos turns away. The city is now dark, empty, and silent--except for the rhythmic tapping of sign blowing in the wind. Clack, clack, clack. Rhythmic.

*****

One foot in front of the other. So many steps behind. Left foot, right foot, left again. The loose soles on his ragged boots. Clack, clack, clack. Rhythmic.

Without even looking, he knows he is approaching a city. He could almost smell it. Cities were always the worst, being alone was one thing--alone in a crowd another. Still, his boots would not repair themselves, he needed something that he could not provide himself. So, the city it was.

Getting inside was never a problem, people tended not to see him--even the most alert of guards. At worst, if they only opened the gates long enough to let a wagon through, he could always wait for the next one, and stowaway, never needing to fear being noticed.

Only, this time was different. It was never different, and yet the guard callsout to him.

"Ho there traveller! What be your name and your business in our fine city?"

Chronos raises his eyes, seemingly for the first time in days, to meet the bright gaze of the guardsman. The guard was young, but his eyes and his ready stance told of one who was good at what they did. And yet, although poised for trouble, he was still friendly, even welcoming.

Chronos blinks several times and shakes his head, trying to dispel the illusion of what could not be.

The guard chuckles, "Been on travelling alone for a while, eh? I've seen it many a times. But I'll be needing you name and business, wanderer."

Chronos swallows hard and clears his throat, "Boots. My boots need resoled." Awkwardly he raises his right foot off the ground and points to his foot. Realizing how foolish he must look, he quickly puts his foot back down, and idly straightens his cloak.

The guard laughs merrily, not seeming to be mocking at all. "Indeed, although from the looks of it, new boots might be in order. Either way, there are many fine cobblers on Fae Road, on the east side of town. I hate to pry, but do you have coins, sir? If not, I have some to spare, enough for a solid pair of boots anyway...and you can always stay in the park. Its in the very center of our fair town."

Chronos was overwhelmed, not only did this man see him, but he wanted to help. He starts to stammer something, but insteads reaches to his belt and shakes his coin purse, jingling it softly.

The gaurd smiles, "Good. No offense intended, of course."

For the first time in memory, Chronos smiles, "None taken" Perhaps this would be different, perhaps he had finally come home. He starts to walk through the gate, and chuckles ruefully to himself. No need in getting a false hope built up, most likely the guard was a fluke.

The guard holds out a hand, stopping Chronos easily, "I still need you name, traveller."

Without thinking, the hermit responds. The guard motions him past, into the city, "Should you need anything, ask for me. The names Elton, and I'm on duty here, most days."

Unsure what to do, Chronos bows shallowly and walks into the city.

"Remember what I said, Chronos."

*****

"Chronos. CHRONOS! Have you gone daft, man? There's a storm coming!"

The hermit turns back to the gatekeeper, "Indeed. And I must go. Now."