“Who are you and what were you doing there?” Rylan turned to him and tried to determine his aura. It was conflicting as both bright and dark. He shook his head and lost vision of it right after.
“This is not the first time I woke up in a foreign place.” He thought as he grinned like an idiot at the serious question that was asked of him.
“Was that sword your own?” continued the ranger with slight interest in his gaze. Rylan simply nodded his head in response.
“Can you come with me? I have left it in the crater.”
“My body feels terribly sore but I think I can move, even if slowly.” He grabbed the flower in his hand and held it gently as he sluggishly stood up from bed. It was then he noticed the ranger was leaning on the cane. His left leg was bandaged and seemed to be limp. “You asked me before. I am Rylan, slayer of demons.”
“Never heard of you and yet you must be a mighty fine warrior if you can wield something like that properly. The name’s Marn.” He stretched out his right hand instinctively towards Rylan but he soon realized he was missing an arm. The mood turned slightly awkward as he had to change the hand with which he held the cane and then stretched his left hand. Rylan shook it, sensing a strong grip from Marn. The two left the cabin together but Rylan was bothered seeing the bandages soaked in fresh blood. As if expecting the question, Marn spoke out. “While I was carrying you to my home, a ferocious beast attacked us. At first I thought it to be a wolf, but its size was tremendous and it had a fiendish aura of twisted evilness. I got off with just a chomp on the leg but as soon as it sniffed you, the monster ran away. Not so peculiar of an event now that I know your occupation.” The glint in his eyes from before appeared once more. “Is this how you got so strong and yet so scarred, through continuous fighting?”
“I’d say I was and still am the opposite of strong.” He scratched the back of his head, looking around. “This conversation is bothersome.” Silence fell afterwards and they walked all the way up to the crater accompanied only by the faint song of birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind. At its bottom, the massive blade was lying without a scratch. Rylan could almost feel a presence pulling him towards it. He slowly climbed down trying not to trip and grabbed ahold of the handle. He tried lifting it up but it wouldn’t even budge. Its weight was more than he remembered it to be. He was so enthralled by the sword that he completely forgot about the flower he held, until it was too late. With his heart beating nervously he checked on it, seeing as its fragile, white petals were almost crushed and torn. Now that he had something in his care, the burden of the sword was harder to bear. He put the frail flower behind his left ear and took a deep breath before trying once more. Was he strong enough to lift the blade? Was he courageous enough to wield it for a purpose other than his own?
“Am I worrying too much over so simple a thing?” He asked himself, pondering on the gift entrusted to him by the mysterious being. All the muscles in his arm contracted as he slowly lifted the sword. His hand was shaking but he managed to raise it and let out a cheer of relief. Marn was staring at him with a concerned expression.
“Did I overestimate him?” He thought to himself as he followed Rylan down into the crater. He shook his head, dismissing his negative thoughts towards the scarred warrior. “I was a fool to bring him out here in such a terrible condition. He’s all skin and bones and as pale as a cadaver.” He cleared his throat and spoke out loud to Rylan. “Let’s return to my cabin. You’re weakened from your journey… and from whatever happened here.” As he spoke, there was like a shadow that fell over his eyes. His concerned gaze was somewhat frightful and he rushed back up on the crater’s edge. Rylan had no choice but to abandon the sword there because ascending the crater was impossible with his only arm occupied. Marn extended his hand, helping him out on the last portion before the two travelled back. Rylan lied flat on the bed while his host prepared him a delectable meal.
Unexpectedly enough, Rylan felt a cold sting in his throat followed by a warm stream running down his neck and onto the bed. His host was holding a blade to his throat, with his hand slightly shaking. As if forced by an impulse of guilt, Marn tried to explain himself.
“I don’t trust you.” He shouted with a trembling tone, pressing the blade slightly harder. “I thought you were a knight at first but you’re awfully suspicious.” Rylan tried to move away from the blade because he was getting light headed from the blood loss in his already frail state. Marn jumped up his hands still shaking. It was then Rylan noticed the man was still leaning against the cane with the other hand. “Don’t you make a move or you’re done for!”
“What do you want from me?” Rylan cut him off with a visibly bothered expression. He was struck with a sense of disgust for people, but this was just a remembrance of past times. He had seen enough to distrust just about any person he might meet.
“I can just… feel it.” His voice was getting fainter and his eyes were searching around as if he had gone insane. “I know it… he’s out there, prowling around the house. And it’s because of you!” Marn suddenly calmed himself and turned back to Rylan, pointing at him and throwing him a hateful glance. “You, you lured that beast here; it’s searching for you. I had hoped for a knight that could raise me up from my awful status but you’re nothing but a drifter looking for trouble.”
Rylan wiped the blood pouring from his throat and spat in his face, proceeding to laugh.
“You’re just a petty hunter, hiding away in his cabin. I tried my very best and I will keep on trying until the day I will perish. Can you say the same?” He stood up from bed, still rubbing his neck in the area of the fresh wound. His body was burning and a headache bothered him but he was left without a choice. He stood imposing, towering over Marn who was still holding the knife towards him. As he walked out the door, he threw Marn a final pitying look before disappearing into the wilds. The hunter with a limp leg took a seat on one of the chairs and wiped his forehead of sweat. Rylan’s words drove him furious and he smashed the table with his fist.
“What was about him that made him so fierce and frightening? I could’ve easily taken his life. And that flower which he still had in his hair…” Marn burst into laughter remembering his visage. “Like a woman… I don’t even know who was more pathetic.” The look in his eyes suddenly turned grim as he thought he could catch up to him. He grabbed ahold of the cane which he just dropped and hurried out the door, following the fresh tracks through the grass. He was so furious that his fear of the mysterious wolf had vanished. Marn decided to watch him from afar and follow as silently as possible. It was a terrible sight, a man with a limp leg chasing after another man who could barely walk straight from his injuries. Rylan returned to the crater and descended to its bottom, to Marn’s displeasure. From where he stood, he couldn’t watch him as before. “He can’t get out of there without me noticing, nonetheless.” He thought, taking a break underneath a tree. He leaned against it with his body and let go of the cane. He left in such haste that he even forgot his dagger.
Even though it was safer and wiser for him to simply wait for Rylan to come out, his curiosity got the best of him so he decided to climb up the tree. Without much effort, he pulled himself up on a large, steady branch and then continued to climb slowly since he could only use one leg. Once he reached as high as the branches allowed, he was panting and sweating. His effort was not in vain for he could clearly see Rylan from up there. The scarred wanderer seemed to be frozen in place, simply staring at the large blade. Marn’s irrational anger and fear were slowly drifting away into feelings of confusion. His mind was blank until he felt the whole tree shudder and shake. Powerful stomps made the earth tremble and beneath the hunter passed the large beast of horror, heading towards Rylan. Marn felt a sting in his heart and swallowed hard, expecting to observe a merciless, one-sided devastation. The monstrous wolf menacingly crept ever closer to the rim of the crater and let out a bone chilling howl. Birds flew away from any trees nearby and Marn was left in shock,
shaking with fear. The sky was growing darker as black clouds gathered above.
The demon lied in wait, as if for a signal. Rylan moved his hand to his neck, holding something in his palm. Amidst the looming darkness his palm radiated warm light, piercing the cold of death. The wolf let out another howl and pounced on him with his sharp, flesh rending claws forward.
“It is over…” whispered Marn with his eyes wide open and drooling mouth. He moved his right arm to his pumping heart, fearing that its beat was so loud it would be heard by the ferocious fiend.
Suddenly, an eruption of light burst from beneath the monster and the wolf jumped away, yelping in pain. Its demonic wailing was freezing the marrow in Marn’s bones who continued to watch, holding tight onto the branch with his left hand. Rylan rose from the dust, shining like a fiery beacon of pride and power. He had a large grin on his face, laughing in the face of death as if he had grown accustomed to it. The wolf roared and from its back emerged tentacles which smacked the ground around it viciously. Marn was staring in disbelief at the horrific monster.
“It’s my fault… I killed him too.” Whispered Marn as he clenched his right fist and took many short, panicked breaths. He felt a surge of adrenaline and in the spur of the moment he climbed down the tree, hurting his body and increasing the bleed on his numb leg. He had no weapon other than the meager cane he used to walk. Could Rylan buy him enough time so that he could grab his bow or should he run in, even if he perished foolishly?
The wolf leapt at Rylan and its tentacles swept the ground, rising dust. Seeing an opening as the monster was focused on him, Marn gathered all his strength and tried sprinting with his limp leg, jumping off the rim and smacking down viciously with the cane in the cloud of dust. His blow landed right on the head, blood splattering all over the dark fur. He was now atop the beast which was fretting and jumping around, trying to throw him off. Rylan pushed the beast from him with the blunt of his blade and with a sweeping move sliced off its front limbs in one clean strike. Marn continued to bludgeon the demon furiously, empowered by the adrenaline rush. The wolf rocked back its head, throwing Marn further back but he managed to grasp the thick fur and held onto him. The half collapsed beast was squirming on the ground, pushing with its hind legs to reach Rylan with his bite. The vaunted demon slayer dodged back, putting up his sword as a shield in front of him. He looked right in the cold, crimson shining eyes of the beast filled with killer intent and was reminded of that day on the battlefield. He was frozen in place as the wolf continued to approach him but a shout brought him back to reality.
“Do something! Kill it!” Marn as battered as he was struggled to maintain his consciousness as the tentacles viciously tore through his armor, ripping apart his skin. His hand finally let go of the beast and as he was falling, he launched the cane with the remainder of his strength right in the head of the beast, temporarily drawing its attention.
“Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance, monster?” yelled Rylan at the wolf as he charged towards it. “You brought your own demise, but it wasn’t of kindness.” He roared from the bottom of his lungs as he blindly swung the large blade, shattering bone and splitting open the skull of the demon who gave one last howl of distress and pain. Rylan let the sword stuck in the bleeding head of the beast and fell on his knees, asking himself how he was spared again by fate. He looked up and an image of the dying being showed up, staring at him with kind eyes, through parted clouds. Light was shining once again upon the forest. Next to him appeared the visages of Tarna, Rilwen and Ainnea all giving him hope to press on through his journey. He clutched the angelic figure hanging from the necklace and stood up, looking around. He walked up to Marn and sat beside him on the ground.
“Forgive me…” He whispered through his trembling lips. He had his eyes slightly open, staring at Rylan.
“The last time I was like this, it was on the field of a terrible battle. I was fighting against the rising hordes of demons led by the Demon Queen.”
Hearing her name, Marn coughed and grasped firmly the bloodied grass beneath him. His head slightly tilted as he looked up at the sky, seeing the visage of the woman he killed. It was his beloved whom he wrongly accused of cheating him with another man. He was cast out of the village and had to live his days on his own, in the unforgiving wilderness. It was after tireless days of mindless wandering that he stumbled upon the shack of an old man, and he too was slaughtered by his hands, claiming the cabin as his own.
“Tell me-” Marn coughed again, spitting blood and tilting his head to the side to look at Rylan. “If you would have made a terrible mistake which haunts you everywhere you go… how could you atone?” His speech was barely comprehensible but Rylan guessed most of what he was saying. A sad, nostalgic smile appeared on the face of the one armed warrior, remembering as he asked the very same once before.
“I was willing to let you die here and was ready to forgive you, but now you must live on and set right your mistakes.” Rylan took a deep breath and leaned over him, checking what he could do to help. On the outside, Marn only had awful bruises but he took far worse internal damage and his organs were surely injured from the continuous bludgeoning he had sustained. He was at a loss as what to do, so he closed his eyes trying to figure something out. His hand moved as if guided by an external force and he felt warmth around his neck. He pressed his palm against Marn’s chest and felt a sudden, sharp sting throughout his arm. He couldn’t tell how, but he was converting mana from one to another, sharing in the wounds that Marn had. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth and he felt deep pain in his chest and lower abdomen. His heart sank and he felt as if he was going to black out. The only thing keeping him going was the reassuring warmth around his neck, spreading up and down across his body. He felt a tingle down his spine and his whole body shivered as he could sense the extents of his mana all the way to his fingertips. Marn’s breathing was returning to normal and he grasped Rylan’s hand. Rylan fell flat next to him on the grass, going unconscious.
The air was still, unbreathable. No single ray of light dared pierce the clouds. The area was nothing but a cursed bog, littered with corpses and overflowing with blood. Inextinguishable fires burned throughout, being the sole source of light for anyone mad enough to visit the place. This was the aftermath of the grand battle between good and evil, where the forces of good seemingly won. Was their victory something more than just a fluke? Was their triumph justified and deserved? Will their success live on through the ages or will it be tainted by the coming of a new horrific reign? All these questions were present in the troubled mind of the wandering soul lost there. His body was shivering, but there was more to it than just cold. He was phasing in and out of existence uncontrollably. His being was replicating over and over like shadows, swiftly fading afterwards. The pain he felt was utterly unbearable at this point. He wore nothing but a rugged cloak for he was poor. He fell on his knees, embracing himself with his arms as he cried in pain. The hood slid off from underneath emerging a pair of pointy ears, sticking upwards. His figure was awfully pale and he was skinny enough for his bones to be observable just by looking at him.
The elf was unfazed by the horrors around him or perhaps he was oblivious to them because of his own suffering. He never met his parents and his entire life was one long, tireless and pointless struggle. No sense of accomplishment, no happiness, no nothing… He wasn’t even frustrated that his miserable life was ending. Still, he had a certain unknown fear of it, as if something even worse was waiting for him. His body and mind were so weak that he started hearing things. There was a particular voice whispering to him. He could barely make out a shape, standing in front of him.
“You poor thing, twisted and tortured by the world… just as I was.” the voice was soft and soothing, almost enchanting to hear. He raised his gaze and saw the beautiful visage of a woman with long dark hair flowing over her bare shoulders. “Is it hatred you feel for the world? Do you want revenge?” She continued, reaching
out towards him and grabbing his cheek with her soft, slender fingers. The dying elf shook his head sluggishly, with a tired look in his eyes. “Do you want to be released from this seemingly endless torment?” A faint light shone in his eyes as he nodded. His hands tried to reach up for her but fell numb to the sides. She leaned down closer to him, embracing the elf and whispering in his ear. “Do you want to enjoy yourself for once and feel the pleasures life has to offer? How does that sound?”
The elf mustered the strength to embrace her but he found himself alone, staring at something squirming on the ground. It looked like a deformed fetus, but of much smaller scale and of some unknown origins. He felt a sudden, irresistible hunger driving him insane. His eyes went wild and he fretted in place feeling all stirred up. He lunged forward and devoured the fetus without hesitation. His being was overwhelmed with an ecstatic sense of joy and he grinned as power was coursing through his veins once more. The cloak he wore melted into his flesh and turned to black scales and the cowl became a collar of dark, raven feathers around the back of his neck. Without realizing, he had sustained an insurmountable amount of stress and his hair had turned white, while his eyes had shifted to a crimson color. His grin was unnaturally wide and a voice from somewhere deep inside of him whispered.
“Devour… desecrate… ruin…” The words were clear in his mind and as he stood up from the ground, upon scouting his surroundings he encountered two shady people, looting corpses. With gentle steps as if he was floating above the ground, he silently approached behind their back. He was brimming with excitement seeing how they were completely unaware of his presence. He slowly stretched towards one of them and grabbed his shoulder. The man remained frozen in place all of a sudden as his companion continued searching through the muddy pockets of a deceased soldier. His knees were going weak and he started sobbing silently, whispering the name of Tela in vain.
A World Beyond the Dark Page 17