Dark Illumination

Chapter Seven

The Light came for Dillan during a hunting trip. He ran with Kyle and his friends into the woods in the hopes of slaying the great holler boar. It was a rite of passage for any Lumerian child, male or female. They were a warrior race. The first kill was tradition. He and the boys got it into their nine-year-old heads that nothing less than the ugly, mean-tempered, beastly boars would do. It would propel them into Knights status in a fortnight. At least, that was the idea. Or so their young, inexperienced brains thought. Stupidity notwithstanding.

Armed with short swords at their hips, bows and arrows on their shoulders, spears for those who favored them, a net, and rope, they jogged between trees until they reached a clearing. In a circle, with a patch of loose earth in front of them, Dillan laid out their plan of attack. He used a stick to draw the diagram then pointing to each of his comrades in turn as he explained what they should all do to achieve this kill without injury.

Beelzebub, the biggest, meanest holler boar had been spotted wandering east of where they planned for over a month. The dark truffles the beasts loved grew in abundance at that part of the forest this time of year. Many have tried. Many have failed. Some have even died. Beelzebub’s story grew into legend. Even hardened Knights stayed away from the monster.

“And what makes you think we’ll succeed?” asked the shiest boy with them.

Dillan shared a grin with Kyle before he said, “Because we have these.” He nodded at Sebastian, who reached into his pouch for three dark truffles. Difficult to get without a truffle hound, one fetched at least a month’s salary for an ordinary workman.

All eyes grew wide as another boy asked, “Where’d you get those?”

“I have my ways,” Sebastian said simply as he tucked their precious cargo back into his pouch.

“We’ll set the trap, use the truffles as bait, and when we have Beelzebub where we want him we’ll attack,” Dillan said, dead serious. He didn’t discount the possibility of danger. No room for jokes. Killing the fabled boar came with huge risks. But, like his father used to say before he died, with huge risks came equal reward. So failure was not an option for them.

After going over the plan one more time so everyone was clear of their tasks, the group gathered their gear and headed east until the trees grew into massive behemonths that stretched toward the sun. The canopies of which blocked out any light, casting the forest floor in perpetual gloom.

An oppressive silence stretched before them. As if sensing the coming danger, no one spoke. No one really had to since they all knew what had to be done. They walked single file on light feet, taking care to avoid fallen branches or anything that might disturb the eerie calm.

A massive root arched above them seven feet off the ground. Mushrooms the size of their beds popped out of the ground as if it had rained the night before. The fresh scent of moss filled the damp air. Perspiration dotted across Dillan’s brow as he led the group onward.

He raised a fist, signaling for all of them to stop. The hairs at the back of his neck rose. There was something here. He could feel it like a coming lightning storm. A charged energy clung to his skin. He opened his fist and signaled for them to split up. Time to look for clues that would lead them to their prey.

In less than two minutes after fanning out, Sebastian whistled. All heads turned toward an outcropping of rocks he stood on. He pointed at the ground. What looked like another cluster of rocks was actually excrement. They all wrinkled their noses, but it was a testament to their training that they made no sounds of disgust. Their instructors would be proud. That was if they survive this insane endeavor and the punishment that will surely follow for being foolish enough to think they could actually pull this off. Dillan grinned. The lashes would be worth it once they came home with the carcass of Beelzebub. Their village would feast on holler boar meat tonight, and for many nights afterwards. He was, in fact, doing everyone a service by ridding their world of this beast.

Bravely, he approached the dung and reached out. Even without looking, he could feel the squirms of his fellow hunters. Even often stone-faced Sebastian frowned at him as he tested for freshness.

Not only were the droppings foul, they were still warm. Which meant the holler boar was close. The moss masked the smell of decay. But standing this close to boar feces, Dillan gagged.

Breathing through his mouth, he gave the signal for them to follow the tracks left by the creature about doing its business. They led deeper into the forest. When they reached another clearing that was perfect for their purposes they got to work setting up the trap.

The net was strewn over a fresh patch of dirt where the dark truffles were usually found. The fallen leaves they gathered were sprinkled over the net strategically. Then they tied the corners with rope the color of vines and slung the other end over nearby branches.

Once everything was set, they took their places behind whatever cover they could find. Boughs. Bushes. A lone bolder. Everything was perfect.

Dillan gave his brother the go ahead with a wave of his hand.

Sebastian set two of the truffles at the center of where the net lay stretched out and lit the third one until tendrils of smoke rose from the lumpy delicacy. He then waved the flaming morsel around to spread the smoke. A monstrous rumbling shook the ground seconds later. The boar was closer than they had anticipated. Sebastian dropped the truffle and ran to his hiding spot.

Heavy footfalls disturbed the haunting silence that once surrounded them. If Dillan thought the smell of the animal’s filth was bad, it didn’t prepare him for the absolute horror of inhaling Beelzebub’s odor. It was a wall of foul smelling musk that made his eyes tear up and his throat close.

Lesson learned. Bring face masks when hunting holler boar.

The ugly creature stepped out of a stand of trees directly from their left. It had one milky eye and a jagged scar running down from its snot to its neck. One ear was permanently folded, while the other had a chunk missing from it. Other healed scars, pink and angry, peppered its matted fur. It stood ten feet tall and half that wide. The most intimidating part would have to be the menacing tusks that curled out from its grimacing mouth.

Dillan scanned for his friends. They had their weapons ready, albeit held by shaky hands. He opted for a bow and arrow instead. Save the sword for later. The legend hadn’t been exaggeration. Beelzebub was indeed frightening. A purple tongue darted out, as if it tasted the air. Smoke still rose from the truffle his brother had dropped. The boar snorted then tilted its massive head back and let out the holler it got its name from.

All of them covered their ears and crouched lower to the ground. Wave upon wave of sound slammed into them like physical blows. The forest floor shook. It was as if the earth rippled beneath Dillan’s feet. His heart skipped. Fear became as real as the monster they so brazenly thought to defeat.

When Beelzebub was done howling, the purpose of which was clearly to intimidate any other predator around that might think to steal his prize, he lowered his nose to the ground and approached the truffles. Drool snaked out of the gap between his enormous teeth. Those things could crush bone if the boar had a mind to munch on nine-year-old meat.

In his mind, Dillan began the countdown. The moment Beelzebub reached the center of the net they would strike. But before that could happen, a snap came from his right. He whipped his head at the same time the boar did toward the sound. The shy boy sat frozen, wild terror in his eyes, a broken branch beneath his heel.

Like a whip snap, the creature wheeled around and charged. Thinking fast, Dillan drew his sword and ran up the rock Kyle hid behind and jumped. He plunged his blade into the boar’s back, hilt deep. It accomplished nothing.

“Don’t run,” Dillan shouted, but it was too late. His friend got up to his feet and scampered away. Beelzebub veered after him, head down, tusks at the ready for skewering. They were moving too fast for the others to catch up. He could only hope Sebastian or Kyle would think of something. Sooner rather than when he and his running friend were dead.

Cursing at having left his bow and arrow, he yanked at the short sword that was imbedded in the monster he was riding. It was as if the boar didn’t even care that he was there. It just kept on running after the now screaming boy.

With the blade refusing to dislodge, Dillan did the stupidest thing he could think of. He climbed to his feet and inched closer to the creature’s head. He straddled the snout and grabbed on to the tusks. Beelzebub reared back, hollering as if in agony. Then it ran head first into a tree. The momentum of the crash flipped his body over until he slammed back first into the truck, knocking him out cold.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to find himself lying beneath a patch of sunlight on a bed of soft dandelions. A cool breeze ruffled his hair, almost lulling him back to sleep. But the memory of the holler boar hunt gone wrong and worry for his friend forced him to a sitting position. He scanned the area. A meadow. Not the forest with hulking trees he’d been in.

Had he died?

Sure the impact was bone jarring, but he didn’t think it was enough to actually kill him. Or was it? Did his mother’s warning that his heard head would someday crack because of his foolhardy decisions finally come true?

He pinched himself. Pain blossomed on his arm. If he were dead surely there shouldn’t be any pain. Right? Sadness and panic warred for supremacy in his chest.

No. He couldn’t be dead.

“You are very much alive, Dillan Sloan, son of Jarvis and Lillian Sloan, brother to Sebastian Sloan, cousin to Kyle Hilliard,” a masculine voice said.

He searched for the source of the oddly soothing yet authoritative voice. It reminded him of his face. Yet he knew his ears weren’t the ones that listened. It was as if the words formed inside his mind.

In the distance appeared a large willow tree with lavender tendrils hanging down to the ground. They reminded him of the tears that streaked his mother’s face when she wept for the death of his father. At the passing of another breeze, the tendrils parted to reveal a glorious white stag. Its horns had nine points each, extending grandly toward the sky. Unblinking golden eyes stared at him.

“Rise, Dillan Sloan, Dillan Sloan, son of Jarvis and Lillian Sloan, brother to Sebastian Sloan, cousin to Kyle Hilliard.”

It took him a moment to realize the words came from the stag. He pushed to his feet slowly, first settling into a crouch before stretching to his full height. Not wanting to scare the enchanted animal crossed his mind for the briefest instant before he realized it was a useless through. If there was someone who should be afraid—

“No harm will come to you here, Dillan Sloan, son of Jarvis and Lillian Sloan, brother to Sebastian Sloan, cousin to Kyle Hilliard.”

He shook his head and smirked. “Dillan is fine. You don’t have to recite who I’m related to every time you call my name.” Then he moved toward the willow tree. It seemed father away when he was seated yet it barely took ten steps to join the stag beneath its sweet-smelling canopy. “Am I dead?” he asked the animal. “Is this what happens when a soul rejoins The Light?”

The stag inclined its head as if considering his question then the words formed inside his mind once again. “You have been chosen.”

“Chosen?” He scratched the back of his head, discretely checking for bumps.

“This is not a dream.”

His eyebrows traveled north. “You’re reading my mind.”

“I am what I am.”

“Who are you?”

“The brilliance in your mind. The courage in your heart. The light at the end of the tunnel. I am what I am.”

Dillan’s heart sped up for a different reason. One of bone-chilling dread. “No. This can’t be happening.”

“It is already done.” The stag bowed. “You are the new Prince of Light.”

Before he could argue, a bright flash emanating from his left arm blinded him. When his vision returned, he found himself standing in the middle of a throne room with the High King and Queen looking down at him from their splendid onyx thrones an a dais yards away. His gaze dropped to his arm where a simple vambrace with an opaque gem gleamed. In the milky depths he saw a sword. Its name was Lightseeker, the symbol of his new status in life. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Then he looked back at the silent monarchs. The High Queen smiled graciously while the High King rubbed his chin, clearly bemused.

How could he have gone from hunting Beelzebub, the sticking boar of legend, to becoming the new Prince of Light? A cold sweat covered his entire body.

“Welcome,” the High King said.

“Praise be, Your Highness,” the High Queen greeted.

As the courtiers lining the throne room all dropped to one knee, Dillan knew his fate had been sealed.

“Holy crap on a stick,” he muttered.