Shadows and Secrets
Through a slit in the tent's woven fabric, a sliver of light as sharp as a dagger appeared. It struck my face squarely, splattering stripes all over it. I was Aurelius, six years old and a bundle of activity, and I was lying curled in my furs with the smell of bacon frying and woodsmoke filling the air. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, but then I heard the same laugh.
"Up so early, troublemaker?" From next to me came a loud, rumbling voice. My Uncle Kieran was there. Although he wasn't actually my uncle, that was the name everyone gave him. He had a shock of silver hair that always seemed to be blown by the wind, and compassionate eyes that wrinkled at the corners when he smiled.I looked up, a broad smile on my face. "Good morning, Kieran the Uncle! Is it possible for us to go outside today? I'm sure that with practice, my throwing knives can finally reach the mark."Once more, Kieran laughed and tousled my hair. We'll investigate more, budding grasshopper. But first, I've prepared Migas for you for breakfast."I jumped out of bed at the mention of Migas. We were residents of the Vorgath tribe, a powerful and kind people who had raised me from a small infant. The tribe, and in particular Kieran and Chief Throk—a massive man with a huge heart and a loud voice—were my family.We stepped outside after eating a hearty and filling breakfast. The settlement of Vorgath was alive with activity. Men sharpened tools, women woven elaborate baskets, and children ran with exuberant screams. I adored this location. It was a time of laughing, stories told over crackling campfires, and a connection to the community I had never experienced before."Uncle Kieran," I questioned while launching a smooth stone into the air and successfully landing it. "Will I ever be a warrior like Bjorn?" The strongest fighter in the tribe, Bjorn was a massive man with a beard that reached his chest, resembling a mountain. He would frequently demonstrate basic sword combat techniques for me, his harsh lessons tinged with an unexpected level of compassion.With his eyes locked on mine, Kieran knelt next to me. "Aurelius, you are stronger than anyone else. You're deft, compassionate, and tenacious. These traits will be very beneficial to you." His propensity of avoiding straightforward answers to my questions occasionally annoyed me.The years whizzed by like leaves in a fierce breeze. Kieran patiently taught me how to hunt throughout the days I spent learning, even though I was terrible with a bow and arrow. Chief Throk taught me the Vorgath language, which is a blend of melodious whispers and guttural noises. He enthralled me with tales of valiant warriors and fantastical creatures beneath the stars.When I was eight years old, I could track a deer like the pros and construct a fire that would make any experienced camper happy. Above all, I experienced a strong sense of belonging to the group. I belonged to them, and they were my people.I saw a glint of despair in Kieran's eyes one day when we were practicing sword combat in the clearing. We concluded our meeting in silence, and I made the decision to ask for an answer as the sun began to set and long shadows began to form."Uncle Kieran," I said in a low voice, "Why don't you ever want to tell me about my parents?"He paused, staring off into space. "Aurelius, everything has its proper time. All that matters at this moment is that you are present and with us."As usual, his response left me unsatisfied, but I knew better than to challenge him. Nevertheless, a doubt had been sown. My parents were who? Why was I required to remain concealed amidst the Vorgath?
That same night, Moonlight filtered through Kieran's tent's woven ceiling, like a soft kiss. Hunched over a little fire, he watched as flickering shadows danced like ghosts along the walls. Sleep seemed a long way off. Kieran felt a great burden pressing down on him tonight, a cloak of dread and sadness that choked him.
With a continual reminder of the secret he carried, the weight of the bag made of worn leather, which he gripped in his lap. The ring, a representation of House Zark, was inside; its cool, smooth surface rested against his fingertips. It represented a life denied to Aurelius, the youngster he reared as his nephew, and one that lay far beyond the Vorgath forest.
Aurelius. Kieran heard the name again, a melancholy, yet bittersweet tune in his head. He had witnessed the boy's development from a skinny, inquisitive youngster into a fearless warrior and expert hunter. Kieran was struck by Aurelius's strength, dedication, and loyalty, which were greater than any Vorgath's. But Kieran understood that beneath that hard façade there was a desire, a questioning look that occasionally flicked to the far side of the frame.
Kieran's shoulders were burdened with an enormous weight—the truth. He had made a self-promise to safeguard Aurelius from the perils of his history. However, he was overwhelmed with anxiety at the idea of having to face such threats on his own and leading a prince back to a potentially hostile nation.
He felt as though despair would overwhelm him, and his fears were heightened by the darkness. But suddenly something occurred to him, a glimmer of light in the gloom. Head Throk. Along with his great power, the battle-scarred and wise Vorgath leader was also quite astute and had an unyielding sense of justice.
Kieran got to his feet, his resolve restored. The choice was made. This was not going to be his only problem. He would consult with Chief Throk, reveal the truth about Aurelius's ancestry, and work with him to find a means to shield the young prince and help him fulfill his destiny.
With the ring securely grasped in his palm, Kieran exited his tent to the sound of a gentle crackling fire. With a renewed sense of purpose, he strolled in the direction of Chief Throk's tent, the moonlight serving as a ray of hope amidst the darkness.
As Kieran walked the length of Chief Throk's private tent, a profound hush descended upon them. Although the flickering shadows on the walls were created by the crackling fire in the stone hearth, Kieran's anxious soul was not much eased by it. Sitting on a large bearskin rug, Chief Throk's huge frame made the plain wooden stool seem little in comparison. His gaze were riveted on Kieran, his forehead furrowed in worry.
"Speak, Kieran," Chief Throk said, his voice thick and solid. "What weighs so heavily on your heart?"Kieran paused his pace and inhaled deeply. He was aware that things would get worse the longer he waited. He admitted, "It's Aurelius," in a worried-sounding voice.Chief Throk's eyebrows drew even more deeply. "How is the boy doing? Has he caused himself any problems?Kieran gave a headshake. "Not quite, no. However, Throk, there's something you should be aware of. Something I've been too long concealing."He paused, then spoke again, his voice hardly audible above a whisper. "Aurelius... he's not who we think he is."Chief Throk's eyes expanded in astonishment. "What do you mean?"With a defeated expression on his face, Kieran took a seat across from the Chieftain. He related the tale of the evening he swore allegiance to the monarch to keep him safe. He talked about the ring's insignia, a crest he will never forget, and the uneasy suspicion that Aurelius was a Zark.Chief Throk's aged face showed a range of emotions as Kieran talked, including astonishment, uncertainty, and finally, a profound comprehension. Kieran ended, and the only sound that disturbed the silence was the crackling fire."So, after a long pause, the boy is of royal blood," growled Chief Throk. "A prince!"Kieran gave a somber nod. "Yes."Chief Throk thoughtfully brushed his beard. "And why haven't you told Aurelius the truth all these years?"Kieran's cheeks were flushed with shame. "I was terrified. terrified about the implications for him. Fearful of the potential harm it may do. He has only ever known the Vorgath way of life. What if learning about his background makes him feel less like he belongs?"In the tense situation, Chief Throk's booming laugh was surprisingly warm and comforting. "Kieran, you're overly concerned. The boy is fiercely devoted, tough, and resourceful. Regardless of how challenging it might be, he deserves to know the truth."With a glimmer of optimism emerging in his eyes, Kieran looked up. "Do you think so?""I know so," Chief Throk firmly said. "But be cautious, Kieran. For Aurelius, this realization might mean the end of the world. We must have him ready for the reality as well as whatever obstacles it may present."Kieran gave a determined nod. "I recognize. I'm grateful, Throk. You've always been a trustworthy friend and sage advisor."Chief Throk's lips corner was tugged by a smile. "Remember, Kieran," he added in a firm yet kind voice, "that although the lad is a prince, he is also our son and a Vorgath warrior at heart. And no revelation can take away from that."
The Vorgath warriors trained under a sky full of vivid hues one cool autumn evening. Now eleven years old and full of unbridled enthusiasm, I, Aurelius, bounced on the balls of my feet, imitating their movements with my wooden sword. Bjorn, the greatest warrior in the tribe, laughed at my awkward swings, yet his harsh directions were mixed with unexpected gentleness.
He growled, "Slow down, cub," his voice sounding like gravel. "Strength comes from control, not just flailing that stick around."I grimaced, determined to get the swordplay down pat. I got a shoulder clap from Chief Throk, a huge man with a loud laugh. He bellowed, "Don't worry, little prince," above the sound of steel clanging. "You'll be a fearsome warrior one day."I felt a jolt when he spoke the banned term. I cast a quick peek at Kieran, who was fighting another fighter. Though his expression was neutral, there was a brief glimpse of something in his eyes: concern? Fear? It stoked a boiling anger within of me. Why was he unable to simply tell me the truth? Really, who was I?Later that evening, Kieran and I were alone in the common tent while the fire's embers created dancing shadows on the walls.With my voice hardly audible above a whisper, I said, "Uncle Kieran, why does Chief Throk call me 'little prince' sometimes?"
Like a fox caught in the corner, Kieran's gaze raced around the tent. With beads of sweat on his brow, he muttered, "Uh... that's because... well, you see..." Kieran jumped when Chief Throk's thunderous chuckle reverberated from outside.
"Because," Kieran exclaimed, clawing frantically at a straw, "you have the best throwing arm of any ten-year-old I've ever seen! You can hit a target at a distance of a mile, just like a prince charming a princess—of course, with a pebble! I mean, who among the princes would dare to toss pebbles?"I arched an eyebrow in skepticism as I glanced at him. Deep red heat flared in Kieran's cheeks. The truth might wait a little while longer, perhaps. Nothing was funnier than seeing a grown man become agitated like a scared rabbit, after all. A smile pulled at my mouth.I gave in, "Alright, Uncle Kieran," with a lighthearted smile. Let me go practice tossing pebbles like a 'princely'. But we're practicing my swordplay tomorrow. I want to be a fierce warrior, not a prince who throws pebbles."Kieran sighed with relief, his terrified visage giving way to a sheepish smile. He nodded, ruffling my hair, "Deal." "Now, come on, little warrior prince, let's show those pebbles who's boss!"When we came out of the tent, Kieran's previous fears had been replaced with a lighthearted resolve to show me how to toss pebbles in a "princely" manner. The setting light was creating vivid hues in the sky as the Vorgath town was alive with activity. I couldn't help but wonder what secrets Kieran was keeping as I fired a pebble at a faraway target with a satisfying plop, demonstrating surprising precision. But for now, the mystery was overshadowed by the excitement of a well-executed throw, the delight of spending time with my uncle, and the prospect of an even bigger adventure the next day.