Prologue

Aridan lifted his small hunting bow carefully off its hook beside where his father’s much larger one usually hung.  Slinging it quickly over his shoulder and grabbing his quiver with its five Pidgeotto fletched arrows he hurried out the door of the little tool shed toward the small clearing near the front of his home where his father and some of the neighboring men were readying themselves to begin their yearly hunting trip.  Iska, Aridan’s father’s Persian, sat primly beside the men, disdainfully staring down at the two Growlithe and a young Houndoom playfully romping nearby.  Aridan was determined to receive his father’s permission to accompany the men this year on this exciting journey.  After all, he was nine years old now, no longer a child.

His father sat proudly astride his sleek steed, Muulvok, the finest Rapidash in all the lands surrounding Aridan’s farm.  Lastidan Rittar himself was not such a bad looking man with a strongly set jaw and closely trimmed red beard; his arms were thickly muscled from long hours working the Rittar land and dealing with the dozens of new saplings that seemed to stubbornly push up around the edges of their fields each year.  He was also famed as one of the best bowmen around next to Ualos Tresinn who had been trained in the military capital of Golden Rod City.  Aridan hoped to be as famed and respected as his father one day.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Lastidan’s lips as he guided Muulvok around to face his young son, bow and quiver in hand.  Aridan’s youthful face was set stubbornly and his fierce brown eyes stared defiantly up at his father’s.  Lastidan’s thick eyebrows shot up questioningly, waiting for his only son to speak, though he knew full well what Aridan’s wish was.

“Father, I want to go hunting with you today,” The little boy said quite gravely, his locks of tawny hair ruffling slightly in the morning breeze.

Lastidan smiled at his son fondly.  “I don’t think so Aridan,” He said, wondering just how devoted his son was to accompanying him on this trip, “Not this year at least.”

“But Father!” The child protested vehemently, staring up at the grown man with wide pleading eyes, “You have to let me come this time!  I’m old enough and I can shoot good!  I’ll be good, I will!  Besides, Salion’s going and he not much older ‘n me.”

Salion Mkelle was the youngest son of Osslo Mkelle, a boyhood friend of Lastidan’s who owned a neighboring farm nearby.  Salion, Lastidan knew, had been trained extensively by a father who would not accept defeat.  He was a strong youth in every way, but he wasn’t quite sure Aridan was as ready as Salion was though the boy had great potential with that bow of his.  “Salion is two years older than you Aridan.  That’s a large difference at your age.  And I have not yet spoken with your mother.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind,” Aridan replied quickly, “I can go ask her for you if you’d like.”

Lastidan chuckled.  “Look’s like you’ve thought of everything Little Hunter,” He said, using his son’s pet name.

Aridan’s small chest swelled with pride at his father’s fond words, “I really want to go on this hunt with you, Father, and bring back food for Mama an’ everyone else too.”

“The hunt isn’t all glory you know Little Hunter,” Lastidan reminded gravely, dismounting Muulvok’s broad back to kneel at eye level next to Aridan, “It can be very dangerous and full of a lot of waiting and boredom.  You have to be good at sitting still.  You have to be patient.”

“I can sit still.”

“I’m sure you can Aridan, I don’t doubt that.  I’ve never seen you demonstrate it very well though.”

“I can do it if you let me come with you.”

“You can sit still and not speak?”

“Yes.”

“And you will do only as I tell you?”

“Yes.”

“You will stay directly behind me at all times unless I tell you otherwise?”

“Of course I will.”

“You promise Aridan?”

“Promise.”

Aridan’s father smiled at him, “Well, we might just make a real hunter of you yet my Little Hunter.  I know I’m going to regret this, but saddle Liivir, Muulvok’s eldest colt, as quick as you can.  I will go speak with your mother and I don’t think she will like it much.”

Aridan whooped and scurried off excitedly toward the stable as fast as his legs could carry him.

Liivir plodded steadily along behind Muulok’s flanks, and Aridan sat rigid in the three-year-olds saddle, as still as he possibly could atop the jostling Ponyta, yet his sharp young eyes missed nothing even so.  The slight rustling of the thick canopy of pines in the warm breeze overhead, the tiniest movement of a small creature scurrying along the underbrush, a flock of Fearrow speeding through the cloudy skies high above, none of these were too miniscule not to be perceived by the boy perched watchfully atop his mount deep in the interior of the Tairdean Forest.  It was all so beautiful, though despite his great watchfulness this thought was the farthest thing from the young boy’s mind as Liivir shadowed his father, caught up in the intensity of the hunt.

The past hour or so since the small group of men and boys had valiantly quit the Rittar’s farmstead would have been almost monotonously uneventful for a restless spirit like Aridan, but the boy had not cared in the least.  He was finally out hunting with the men; that practically made him a man himself!  He was beginning to wonder, however, why it had been so long since they’d left and they had yet to sight even one catchable Pokemon.

Jeriam Suldoon’s young Houndoom suddenly began to bay wildly, signaling a prey’s scent caught, and set off ravenously in the direction of an unseen creature in a flurry of black fur, claws and dust.  The Mkelle’s Growlithes went wild at the Houndoom’s uncontrolled outburst, straining desperately against their tethers held captive by Salion who was struggling to keep the fire dogs under control.  Suddenly the short scuffle was over and the Growlithe’s were loose; they took off after the baying dog like inexperienced pups.  Jeriam swore violently and spurred his Pokemon mount after the three escapees.  Salion was shouting, only adding to the rising din created by the loose Pokemon, as he too took off after the runaways despite his father’s warnings not to.  Osslo Mkelle sighed heavily as he watched his son disappear off into the forest after Jeriam’s much faster mount.

“I’ll go after them,” He said briskly, turning to Lastidan, “And if we’re not at the Alrek Ruins by sunset do not panic.  We’ll make it by first light.  It won’t come for us.”  With that he wheeled his mount around sharply and galloped off after the rapidly retreating whirlwind of chaos.

Aridan watched all this take place with wide, delighted eyes.  He had never expected anything so exciting to happen when he’d first pleaded to tag along!

Lastidan turned Muulvok around to face the five remaining men.  “Jeriam and Osslo are experienced woodsmen.  They can easily handle the runaways and take care of Salion.  We shall do nothing and continue on as usual.”

For the first time that day Aridan got the strange feeling that there was something more to this expedition that just a simple pleasure hunt.

 ska, the Rittar’s even tempered Persian, stalked silently alongside Muulvok and Lastidan just as she had throughout the entire hunt; but now her teeth were bared in a threatening snarl and her hackles rose.  Aridan immediately recognized the signs of prey, and he was quite sure no one else had realized Iska’s sudden change in demeanor.  “Father!” He whispered loudly over Liivir’s orange flamed head, “Father!”

Lastidan turned in his saddle to face his son while still keeping one eye focused on the road ahead.  His eyebrows tilted in question.

“Look at Iska, Father.  She sees something,” Aridan continued quietly, gesturing excitedly toward the silent cat at his right.

Nodding his congratulations Lastidan reigned in Muulvok, waving the other men on, and Iska stopped too.  “Very good Little Hunter,” He said.  Lastidan dismounted silently, his movements mirrored soon after by the boy.

“May I hunt this one?” Aridan asked hopefully, slinging his bow and quiver over his shoulder, “May I?  Please?”

Lastidan smiled down at his young son in amusement, “Of course you may, as long as it’s not too large or too dangerous.  I’ll be following right behind you”

Aridan could barely contain his excitement as his father gestured for Iska to continue the chase, and as silently as he could, stalked the big cat through the forest.  It was a lot harder that he had first anticipated, the dead and dry bracken crunching loudly beneath his feet as he tried, and failed, to keep his movements quiet.  Lastidan, though a noticeably larger man in both breadth and height, seemed to have no trouble accomplishing what the much smaller, lighter boy could not.

He winced as a particularly large branch snapped beneath his foot.  A large group of Pokemon was romping playfully in a clearing not ten yards before the stealthy group.  Their small furry bodies and darkly stripped tails trembled joyfully in the midmorning sunlight, tumbling over each other and dashing happily around the grassy clearing.  Iska was poised rigidly, hunching low down on her haunches as if ready to spring at her prey at any second.  Lastidan motioned for Aridan to knock his bow, which he did as quickly and silently as possible, before moving closer to the perimeter of the forest.  Another twig snapped under his carefully positioned feet, and the Pokemon, undoubtedly Sentret, froze, their tiny delicate ears twitching as they listened intently for danger.  One more step from the boy and the Sentret had scattered.  Hurriedly, Aridan drew his bow and released the arrow without aiming properly.  The arrow whizzed sharply into the clearing and struck the earth with a hollow thump!  He groaned as he watched the last of the Sentret disappear off into the forest, his first chance of a successful hunt foiled miserably.

Lastidan snapped his fingers sharply and Iska raced off into the forest, snarling like a rabid beast.  Aridan stared dismally at the ground in shame, knowing perfectly well that he had messed everything up and almost wasted a perfectly good arrow in the process.  He waited dejectedly for his father to speak, but Lastidan held his silence.  When finally he gathered the courage to raise his eyes the large man was smiling, amusement plain on his hearty features.

At his son’s surprised look Lastidan began to laugh good naturedly and gave the boy a comforting pat on the shoulder.  “Retrieve your arrow, Little Hunter,” He said with a large grin, “You did very well for your first try.”

Thoroughly confused but pleased, Aridan scurried to his bitterly misfired arrow and carefully tugged it from the soft earth.  “How did I do good?” he asked, returning the arrow protectively to its quiver as his father joined him in the open field.  The dry wild grasses swayed like stiff cords of tanned leather in the soft breeze, “I startled my prey by stepping carelessly on some stupid stick and then almost lost an arrow by misfiring.  Now, Iska has to go retrieve one of those dumb Sentret for me because I messed it all up!”

“Oh, that’s nothing compared to what I did as a boy on my first hunt, and I was even older than Salion when I first was allowed to go,” Lastidan consoled his son, shaking his head at the memory, “It was a disaster, I’ll tell you that much.”

Aridan goggled at the man; his father creating a disaster?  That was almost as unfathomable as – as a blue and green striped Persian!  “What did you do?” He asked, suddenly curious.

Lastidan shrugged uncomfortably, “I was stalking a beauty of a Stantler and I was not watching where I placed my feet, almost like you.  I tripped and went headlong into the stream.  Got my shirt and breeches full of mud.  Worse, it wasn’t just my father viewing the mishap, but most of the neighbors accompanying us on the hunt.  The Stantler got away and I was humiliated.”

Attempting to hide a delighted grin behind his fingers Aridan stared up at his father, “You fell in the river?” He asked incredulously.

His father nodded and turned away as if struggling with the shame, but then he smiled and turned back to the boy.  “Why yes I did,” He replied jovially, crossing his arms good naturedly, “So you see Little Hunter, your experience was like a prize Ursaring pelt compared to my mangled scrap of Hoppip skin.  As I said before, we’ll make quite a hunter out of you yet!”

The boy glowed with pride, and he felt a lot better after having heard his father’s story and praise.  It was then that the perfect day became a blistering nightmare.

A chilly northerly breeze smashed into Aridan’s face as he turned away from his father, in the direction they had first arrived from.  He shivered and hunched his shoulders to drive off the seeping cold of the wind.  Something was not right.  Suddenly it seemed as if an entire chorus of voices had taken up a call, creating a disastrous cacophony in his mind that sent his senses reeling.  The cry echoed and continued ringing on in his head long after its terrible noise had ceased.  His father was shouting behind him and the boy whirled around to behold a monstrous creature of the likes he’d never seen before and hoped never to see again. 

Its eyes were of fire and seemed to pierce directly into his soul, holding him captive in its blank gaze.  A tail of whip like greens threaded out behind its body of chasming darkness and hundreds of feet into the air, curling around its beastly head with large glinting fangs of steel that could rip a man in two with little effort at all.  Tearing claws of purple energy caped all eight of its writhing paws and what appeared to be insubstantial tentacles of water blossomed from any part of its grotesque body it wished.

Someone was screaming incomprehensible words of terror as the boy tried and failed to comprehend exactly what his eyes were witnessing.  Terror and the beast held his mind tightly in its deathly grasp, attempting to drain the life out of his very being.  He was sure, absolutely sure, that he would die in this moment, that he was staring death straight in the face.  He was afraid, afraid for his life.  That was until he realized that he himself was not the target the beast had set its sights on.  It was his father.

Lastidan held his fighting stance bravely, his belt knife drawn and in his hand, it’s deady tip directed at the hellish creature, ready to defend himself and his son with his last breath.  Aridan realized that it was himself who was screaming and shuddering uncontrollably, but his confused terror-ridden mind did not know how to stop or what to do to save his father and himself.  He could do nothing but watch in a dulled stupor as the beast lashed out its tail of greens and struck his father to the ground.  It was then, and only then, that blind instinct took over.

Through unfocused eyes Aridan pulled himself to his feet, unable to bring himself to gaze upon the form of his father lying deathly still on the ground, and drew his bow, knocking an arrow in the same movement.  In the next second he released the bow string and the arrow was whizzing through the air right for the creature.  In a moment of pure luck the arrow struck the terrible beast directly in the fire of its right eye.  The thing reared back, screaming, and Aridan was once more thrown to the ground writhing in agony.  Thousands of voices wailed in his mind, piercing and screaming as if dying or already in death, and he felt as if he were suspended for all time in that one lasting moment where it’s screams reverberated throughout his mind, tormenting him, changing him, seeking his very self to take and destroy with clutching fingers.

And then it stopped, and there was nothing more than silence.

The young boy trembled and sobbed in uncontrolled bouts that he could not hear as he struggled once more to his feet.  The creature from Hades was gone, and there seemed to be no trace that it had ever visited this place.  His father was gone too.  He tottered over to the place Lastidan Rittar had once lain and fell to his knees in the dirt.  Where his father had once been sprawled lay an arrow, fletched with a glittering blue feather of a kind Aridan could not identify.  Slowly and carefully the boy picked the smooth arrow up and ran his fingers over the strange runes engraved in gold on the side.

Something whispered in his mind. 

‘Jaiqede ul zir hartere ulen min utasa karalin nu.’