Humble Beginnings - Dakota J (golden son ebook .txt) 📗

“Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.”
From “Inferno” by Dante Alighieri

In the land of Terra there are many things. There are woods, mountains, and seas, gods, men, and beasts. Though most remained veiled behind blinding lights, and shadow, some let themselves be found. The old gods were forced into hiding by Man’s Rebellion against them. Beasts were forced to walk on four legs, becoming animals. Some held out though, refusing to submit to furless, scale-less tyranny. With sheer numbers, and barbaric tactics, man prevailed, claiming dominance over beast.
Men began to claim the world as their own, clearing forests, hollowing mountains, and polluting the seas with their horrid chemicals. It amazed the old gods as they watched them, praising a false god, and supposedly carrying out his will. The human’s blind faith kept them powerless to change anything, so they watched on as an ancient enemy lurked in the shadows at their backs.
The unknown was unaware that his ultimate downfall was not the gods themselves, for even they need a savior. It was in one of the great forests, in the land of Principium, where he sleeps. He does not dream, he does not move, he dreams.


Chapter 1
The Dark Woods

At first there was nothing, and then there was something. The wolf’s face twitched. However, only half could be seen, for he was imprisoned in brilliant, amber colored sap of a great tree. The tree took up root on a small embankment, dark earth between the dying plant life. Although, it was not the only tree, many more stood around it. They all rose up, puncturing the night’s veil, staining the porcelain sphere of the moon with black. Their branches were jagged, resembling daggers. None had a wolf in them; the privilege of birthing him into the world once again was given to one old, wise tree.
The wood moaned, pushed with the wind to sway ever so gently. The wind brushed over the wolf’s fur, causing slight whistles in his large, canine ear. His right arm hung out from the elbow. The claws that had been firmly placed in the trunk were beginning to loosen. His foot, looking to be the paw of a great feral animal, had its toes begin to curl. Inside the misty gloss of the sap, his chest began to rise and fall with breath. There was no doubt, this creature was alive.
“Where,” his mind began to stir. “Where am I?” The wolf’s claws slid free of the tree, causing his arm to slump down. “What was that?!” He felt his heart race, and his breathing hasten. “That was my… My… My arm, yes my arm.” His nose crinkled “And that is my nose… Attached to my face.”
Information of his body began to return to his thoughts, followed by his breathing lungs, and beating heart. A sudden gust of moaning wind pierced his ear, causing it to twitch about. His animal instincts made him desperately search out the source of the noise, until he remembered what wind was. When it stopped he paused, no noise. He was alone, wherever he was.
“Am I truly a he,” he began to wonder. “Yes I must be, for I feel that I am, so it must be.” He reassured himself and continued discovering the world around him. “But… No… These are not new to me… I have experienced them before… But when, and where? Why were they stripped from my memory to begin with? Why can I not bring myself to open my eyes..? My eyes? I have eyes.” He stated in his mind.
The thin membrane of his eye lid opened as though it were a feather falling from the high. They only opened a small amount before having to close, and water. The light, it burned his eye sending pain throughout the one he could open. That is when he realized the light continued to shine on his closed eye, causing him much less pain. The wolf did not give in on his quest, opening his eye, letting it water, before hastily closing it. With every opening he could open it a little more, until finally no lid was left to cover the eye.
His surroundings were bleak, lifeless, other than large spires that surrounded him. His lips curled back, bearing his fangs with a growl. The figures did not move. He snarled, and they did not move. Were these figures without fear? Why did they not move away? The wolf paused, his mind swelled with more questions.
“What was that noise I just made? Why do these figures frighten me when they do not show any true threats? How did I know that what I did might scare them? Scare, fear… I am afraid of them, so I, I growled.” He began to piece together his feral instincts. His thoughts were interrupted by another gust of wind. This time something new came with it.
An odor, a smell, flowed into his partially covered nostril. Delighted with the new sensation, he began to sniff, breathing excessively through his nose, where as he formerly kept his maw open. He felt the hairs within the cavern sway. They were tickled by the fragrance. Just as he began to discern the different scents, something else appeared.
The joints and muscles on his inside began to moan with pain. This made him whimper through his nose, breathing out instead of in now. It was pain; he knew it to be so. Nothing gave him this discomfort but pain. The feeling began to grow, and grow, becoming more intense as it spread. Out of raw instinct he began to writhe, and move in every which way he could. Though he found little relief. It began to white out his mind, blocking all his thoughts.
A whine seemed to come from nowhere. It added another type of pain, one that felt similar to his eyes, his ears stung. He clamped his eyes shut, and began to pull every part of his body towards his mid-section as much as he could. The screaming noise kept with its crescendo until finally everything went dark.


“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal”
From the United States Constitution
Just as the wolf fought for his freedom from nature’s grasp, there was another that sought to break the binds humanity held on him. He was held within a prison of marble spires that spew out columns of smoke, golden doorknobs, political subterfuge, and manual labor. Beyond the grand double doors, whose only hand holds were the roaring mouths of lions, and the red, velvet carpet, laid the magnificent Chateau de Mingelle. The grand hallway was lavishly decorated with a dramatic view of the river that ran beneath the southern half of the castle, and trophies of expeditions throughout the country. Stuffed animals were the primary catchers of the eye, though elegant portraits, along with furniture adorned with gold and the occasional jewel were a sight to behold. Geoff Mingelle spared no expense when it came to masking his operations.
In the heart of the castle rested a most beautiful, ivory fountain. Upon the top an effigy of a naked maiden of the sea poured her urn into the reservoirs below. Her pale skin seemed to glow even in the dimmest of lighting, her silhouette so elegant with curvature and perfect form. She was placed in the center of the courtyard, a facing east, towards the corridor leading to the bridge that crosses River Livelly. Serving no purpose other than that of cosmetics, the courtyard had four pathways, extending from a stone porch. A waist high wall separated the lush grass from the cold rock. Every so often a column defined the beginning, and end, of a window. There was no glass though, allowing the eerie wind to whistle through.
It was in a hall that leads from the dining room into the courtyard that the struggling youth found him, veiled behind a curtain. The mindless guardians with ceramic, emotionless faces, and banded armor stood watch, waiting for something to come within their field of view. The young man did not dare to take a peek outside of his hiding place to see what he had already seen in times past. He knew if they caught the faintest trace of him they would spring to life, draw their rapiers, and corner him until Larzax came to deliver his brutal punishments. Thankfully he did not have to wait long for his plan to take action. The first card had fallen, and the entire castle was preparing to crumble into a game of 52 pick-up.

Chapter 2
The Forsaken Chateau

Rudolph clutched a piece of paper, unfolding it to read it once more. As his eyes traced across the paper, he felt doubt begin to grasp at the base of his skull, his palms sweat, and his scars beginning to throb. The paper had many crease marks and smudges from being folded, unfolded, hidden, and nearly swallowed. If anyone had caught him with such a thing, even his fellow serfs, he would surely be made an example of, and executed. However, this was his chance, his one chance to escape and hopefully find a normal life.
“Wait until you hear an uproar,” the note said, “Then go to the custodial closet in the north hall. There you will find a cloak and shoes inside a tool box.” After rereading the last sentence several times, he put it away, slipping it back into his pants. Being a slave, he had no real clothing, simply a pair of pants he had managed to sew and morph out of a potato sack. He also found some string to make a belt and keep it at his waist. He used the tension to keep the note pressed safely against his thigh.
Without warning, an explosion rumbled in the distance. It was too far away to be on the grounds, but the shockwave was powerful enough that it toppled over one of the porcelain bowls. Rudolph was unsure if that was what was supposed to happen, but it certainly filed under ‘uproar’. The sound of metal clinging against metal, and stone, signaled him the guards had been animated. They were leaving him in the hall, alone. For the first time, since dinner last night, he stepped out from behind the drapes.
Walking into the light of the rising sun, he felt his skin shudder at the warmth. His fur did a good job of keeping him warm enough on the bitter winter’s night, but it still felt good to be in the sun. After taking a quick glance up and down the hall, he found he was truly alone. With that he stepped out quickly and made a sprint into the closet. He was easily able to push the door open, then latch it closed behind him.
Now alone in the dim room, he began looking for the tool box. The room was lit by a candle, resting on a desk. His eyes quickly scanned the top, no tool box. Rudolph quickly ran over to nearby shelves, and began to search each one. It was not there either. He began to worry, regret, fear, and many other anxieties began to shake his mind. Becoming frantic, he began to tap at the brick walls, hoping it was within them somewhere. Although he paused, coming to a mirror, stained and crusted with grime, that stood taller than him.
Staring back was a