covered with lava excites me, though I find it unlikely that that is what the source of the mist is. Like most people, I've always wanted to know what the plains look like. It's unbelievable that I'm about to find out.
Before I can give it much more thought, something above me catches my attention. It's not anything in the air or the sky, which is now concealed by sheets of fog, but a strange tension on the rope attached to my harness. I can feel a subtle vibration in it, like it is caught or snagged on something.
I try to bounce on it to get a sense of what it could be, but then it completely loses its support, sending me falling. I grab firmly onto the free rope, it being the only thing stopping me from plummeting to my death, as I watch the harnessed rope fall from above and then dangle below me. It was cut!
The same vibration then starts coming from the free rope, and I begin to panic, my eyes desperately searching around for something to hold to. A couple dozen feet to my right along the mountainside, I spot an ice-covered cliff with some trees and snow at its top. The cliff itself folds gradually into a steep slope, and at the bottom of that slope is a dead drop.
Realizing that that is my only hope, I begin running and swinging myself along the mountainside toward the top cliff and push off of the rocky surface of the mountain just seconds before the free rope is cut loose. I fly through the air, my momentum carrying me toward the cliff and trees, but too quickly for my legs to be able to absorb the imminent impact.
I hit the landing above the cliff hard. A layer of snow at the base of the trees softens my landing to some extent, but it is too powdery and the slope too sharp for me to gain any stability. I tumble forward and roll over my shoulders, careening off of the cliff and, after a moment in the air, landing hard on my back.
My head snaps sideways and bangs against the ice, leaving me dazed and confused, but I stop falling. At the same time, I feel a tight, painful tugging across my arms and chest, though I hardly react to it. I close my eyes and try to alleviate the pounding in my head, which takes all of my concentration. Only after a moment of this am I able to open my eyes again put together what happened.
The tension across my chest is the rope, which is still looped to my harness and has somehow wrapped itself around me a second time. The other end of the rope got caught among the trees, the only reason I didn't slide over the edge. Although my arms and chest feel tense and constricted, the rest of my body lies at rest on the icy slope, which is just gradual enough that I probably wouldn't slip and fall off of the drop below even without the rope now that I'm not moving.
I breathe deep, heavy breaths as I try to keep myself calm. This means that I have to close my eyes periodically to prevent myself from freaking out at being up so high and seemingly helpless to save myself. A short while passes, and I collect my thoughts enough to consider what I will do now. My eyes shift down to my pack, which is loose and dangles from my left shoulder. I turn my neck to get a better view of it and feel a pit in my stomach when I realize that the top has been partly torn open and the animal-skin pouch is gone.
My attention returns to the cliff above me. If the pouch isn't there, then it could be at the base of the mountain. I need to somehow get myself back up to the trees to search for it, and if I don't find it, then I can anchor the rope once more and finish my descent at least knowing that I'll eventually find it.
The push up the twenty-foot cliff takes a lot longer than I expect. My sore and aching muscles struggle to pull me up as I reorient myself and make the climb. The tension I cause on the rope loosens it above me a couple times, making me feel like I'm about to fall only for the remainder of the rope to catch onto something else and stabilize me. After a great amount of exertion, I finally reach the top of the cliff, and to my relief, the pouch is there, caught in a snowbank.
Once I have it packed again and pull the loose ends of the rope up from the cliffs below, I tie the rope firmly around a tree trunk with several knots and continue downward. Wasting no time, I move as fast as my strength will allow me. After maybe half an hour, I reach the bottom, giving a relieved cry as I touch flat ground again, but it's not what I expected.
The fog around me remains thick, making me worry that I have not made it completely down the mountain yet. I search around until I find the free rope, which doesn't end up being too far away, and coil and tie it to my pack in case I need it. I then light the other rope on fire and begin my next journey.
The scenery around me is bland and changes little as I distance myself from the mountains. Lifeless trees and plants surround me even though it isn't winter, and the ground is rocky, covered only sparingly by thin, yellow grass. The fog keeps me from seeing more than few dozen feet in any direction, but the further I walk, the more I get the impression that I shouldn't expect anything different, at least not at this elevation.
The unevenness of the ground makes me feel like I'm walking along hilltops, though I can't ever seem to find a direction that takes me downhill. This troubles me since I had before convinced myself that things would be easy once I got down from the mountains, but I don't let myself think much about it and instead move forward with greater pace.
After a while, I start to notice signs of life, or rather, signs that life once dwelt here. Broken and crumbled walls pop up now and again, along with the ruins of small homes or other much larger stone structures. Like the building on the lake, I find their designs strange and struggle to imagine what they looked like before the wave of destruction that swept through here.
A shadowy figure suddenly appears in the distant haze.
"Hello?" I call out, but it immediately vanishes.
I run the direction it fled, but soon have to stop myself when I come across something terrifying. A large gate forms before me in front of a tall, fragmented wall, one that almost rivals the Northern Gate of Kalepo, and it is lined with the bones and remains of armored men who must have died defending it.
The horrific scene makes me gasp as I reach my hands up to cover my mouth. I close my eyes in disbelief, but force them open again, wanting to see and understand what this place is and how it came to such ruin. I study the armor on the deceased soldiers. It is metal and similar to what the Warrior Cult wears, though not as elegantly designed.
The dark figure appears once more beyond the gate, and I chase after it. By the time I am through to the other side, it is gone, and I am left alone to witness the remnants of even more carnage. Those who perished inside the walls of this place were not just soldiers, but also innocents, even children. Tears form in my eyes as I walk among them, but I force myself forward nonetheless. The remains of these people are nothing but bones and ashes now. Many years have passed since they met their ends, and that makes it somehow easier to not think of or become too emotional about the suffering they likely endured.
Despite the wear of time, I can tell that the town was burned with fire. Many of the buildings were made of wood, not stone, and still appear black and charred. Although most of them are nothing but rubble, some remain partially standing, giving an eerie glimpse of how the town once looked.
High above the city and beyond the rubble, I see the faint outline of a great structure in the distance. A large street before me heads toward it, and I follow it. The further I get, the clearer the structure becomes. It is a great fortress or palace of some sort, one that reminds me a lot of the temple in Kalepo. It is impressive to behold, even tattered and in ruins.
The street leads me through another broken gateway surrounded by more of the dead. I am so accustomed to them at this point that I hardly pay the bodies any heed, stepping around them with little thought as I make my way through the large gateway and into a wide, open courtyard.
It is unexpectedly absent of the fallen, though it like the rest of the town is surrounded by rubble and ash. The layout seems familiar and reminds me of the Warrior District, yet there is something foreign to it, a peculiar aura that makes me feel like I am no longer alone. A foul whisper on the wind, one similar to what I
experienced in the caverns, confirms this.
"You're a strange one to be in a place such as this," a voice sounds all around me.
I become startled and spin in every direction trying to locate the speaker. As my eyes wander, I see more figures in the shadows, but each disappears as soon as I spot it.
"Where are you?" I stammer.
A calm and deep laughter softly bounces off of the air and rubble all around me. It seems unhuman, like it is being carried throughout this place by some strange power. I heard many tales of dark and mystifying things as a child, but I never believed any of them. Now, I am not so sure.
"Do you hide yourself with some strange magic?" I ask.
"Perhaps, but that is no business of yours," the voice replies, this time in a distinct direction I am able to follow.
A road beyond the courtyard leads directly into the great structure that presides over the city, and that seems to be where the being is calling me from. Things remain silent for a moment as I follow the road and collect my thoughts.
"Who are you?" I eventually ask, this time with more confidence in my voice.
"This is my domain," it calmly responds, "and you are the intruder here. I think it would be polite for my guest to introduce herself first, don't you?"
I feel unsafe offering up my identity too quickly, so I ask something else instead.
"Should I fear you?"
"That all depends."
"On what?"
"On who you are and why you have come here."
The voice sounds much closer now as the whole of the large structure comes into clear view only a hundred feet beyond me. It is hollow in several places, many of its walls having collapsed, but the main entrance remains unbroken and in good condition. That is where I sense that the voice is coming from. I don't know if it expects me to go inside, but I am too apprehensive to move any closer, so I stop and wait.
A shadowy personage then emerges from inside, one who carries the veiled aura of a man, a warrior, though his face is covered by a thin mask of some sort. As he descends the steps from the entrance down to the street, I realize that he is larger than any person I have ever seen and moves more like a spirit floating on the air than a living creature. Surprisingly, this does not scare me. In fact, I've become somewhat calmer now that I can see who it is I'm talking to.
"Your thoughts intrigue me," he says, his voice sounding much more alive and human than it did before.
"Can you hear them?" I ask nervously, his comment making me feel like he is uncomfortably close even though he is still fifty feet away from me, slowly stepping closer.
"Yes, and no," he concedes. "There are some creatures who possess such powers, and I am one such being. It is no simple task, however, to enter the mind of another. Doing so is like planting a seed, one that requires time to grow and flourish. The mind is a maze, a labyrinth that only the master understands at first. Yes, I am inside of yours, but I can only sense how you feel. I would have expected someone as small and as fragile as you to be much more afraid than you are."
There is something about his words that make me feel like he does not mean to harm me, though I immediately reject this idea and assume my calmness itself to be the result of some enchantment of his doing. I have no desire to reveal more than I already have, so I try to change the focus of our conversation.
"What happened to this place?" I ask.
"That is a good question," he replies, stopping only a few feet from me.
Seeing him up close does little to make me feel at peace about him. Whatever he is, it is not human. He stands twice my height, his skin and muscles almost nonexistent as though they are translucent and reveal only his bones beneath. The armor he wears is made of a peculiar white metal and bonds with his bones as though they are one and the same.
"I don't know," he says lightly. "It is a strange scene of life and death for somewhere as desolate as this high plain."
I was right. This area is a higher part of the plains. If I continue beyond this ruined city, I might be able to get beneath the mist and find Eliana, though I get the feeling that this creature before me isn't going to simply let me leave. I also get the impression that he is lying to me.
"I find it a little strange that you wouldn't know." I respond. "Would a being as wise as you choose to dwell in a place like this without knowing the force behind its destruction?"
"You are much cleverer than I gave you credit for," he says, his voice becoming more serious. "You will find that much in these plains is not as it first seems."
"And what makes you think that I don't already know that?" I shoot back.
He chuckles in a deep, twisted way.
"Because I would have sensed you before. You appear here like a light wandering in darkness."
"Then what does that make you?" I reply.
"An admirer of light," he answers, his intonation changing from confrontational to something much more amiable. "It's true that many who hide in darkness cannot comprehend or tolerate light, just as most who bask in its glory despise any creature who dwells in its absence. As for me, I come from a place so wretched and black that I prefer not to quench a flame when it wanders my way, though do not doubt me capable of it."
Whatever calmness I had possessed flees at this threat, and I take a hesitant step back. I should not have followed the shadows this far. I should have gone the opposite way. What I carry with me is surely important, and a being as powerful and cunning as the one before me is sure to figure that out. I need to get out of here before it is too late.
"Going somewhere, princess?" he says mischievously.
I turn to run, but am stopped before I can even move at the sight of what has snuck up behind me. The soldiers who were once lifeless now stand tall, barring me from leaving. I spin back to face the creature who now holds my fate in his hands.
"What are you?" I demand.
"That is hard to say, because there is no one answer that really satisfies the question, but you can call me the Necromancer. That is what many have come to call me, and I think you can tell why. I do not want you to be afraid of me."
"Then why stop me from leaving?"
"Because there are those in these lands who would consume a light rather than learn the good it could bring about."
"So you mean to use me," I say.
"Are you always this cynical?" he criticizes.
The pointed question immediately disarms my skepticism. That's the first time in my life that anyone has ever accused me of being something other than hopeful or positive, but again, I stop myself from letting it make me trust him. He is in my head, after all, and could be playing my emotions against me, the same way he figured out who I am.
"If you want me to believe what you say, you need to prove it to me, and that includes promising that I am free to leave your presence whenever I say I want to," I insist.
"Very well," he concedes.
I hear the sound of metal falling to the ground behind me, and I turn around to find that the soldiers are once again lying on the ground. I use the opportunity to study my surroundings once more and plan an escape just in case. Some of the closer buildings remain intact, and I could easily run into one and out the back to get out of the Necromancer's sight, though I'm afraid he'll still be able to sense where I am.
"You, too, must be honest with me," he continues.
I become uneasy, getting a sense that he has something very specific in mind. His eyes are not on mine, but on my pack, which is draped over my right shoulder.
"What is it you carry with you?"
At that instant, something behind me rushes my way. I spin around, expecting it to be the soldiers, but they remain on the ground perfectly still. Rather, a person has emerged from a building to my right, one opposite to the direction I spun in, too quickly for me to defend myself. I am grabbed, and a sharp blade is pressed against my throat. My attacker then forces me to again face the Necromancer.
His eyes are not on me, but over my
shoulder at whoever is holding me.
"Once again you pass before my gaze unseen, ranger," the Necromancer says, almost playfully.
I try to free myself by pushing back against the person holding me, but am gripped so strongly that I'm helpless to move.
"Some people are not susceptible to your tricks," my captor replies, his voice deep and aged but full of conviction.
"Or na?ve enough to assume that I've demonstrated all of my capabilities," the Necromancer finishes, his tone suggesting that they have crossed paths before.
"Let's not drag this out," the man responds. "She comes with me, or no one gets her."
The Necromancer doesn't say anything back, which for some reason bothers me, as though his words of protection and trust before meant absolutely nothing.
"You're just going to let him take me?" I say upset.
"Yes," the Necromancer answers softly, "because I have no doubt that he will kill you if I do not do as he demands."
With that, the man begins pulling me back the way I came. My insides feel twisted and sick. I do not know how to feel about this odd change of circumstances. Just moments ago, I wanted nothing more than to leave. Now I am left wondering what this man wants with me and whether or not it would have been better to plead with the Necromancer to stop him.
As we exit the last of the city gates, the knife still held to my throat, I hear the voice of the Necromancer in my mind.
'Do not believe what is said to you by those you meet. Things are not as they seem. Return to me when you are ready for the truth, and do not forget to bring your secret treasure.'
These words echo through my thoughts several times before dissipating. When they are gone, I sense that the Necromancer, too, has let go of his hold on my mind.
The Outcast and the Survivor: Chapter Two Page 3