"Let me go!" Crinnan shouted as he ripped his body from Sage's grasp. He panted heavily and wiped the sweat from his brow. As he pushed himself to his feet, he looked around and verified that he had returned to reality. Sage stared at him and shook his head.
"Which one of them did you meet?" Sage asked softly. Crinnan looked over at the Elf in a state of utter perplexity.
"Which one?" Crinnan repeated, shocked that Sage had any idea what was going on, "So is this… a thing then?" He looked at the soldier with the slit throat. His body lay motionless in the pool of blood, "What the fuck is going on?"
"Everything is something I should say," Sage spoke in a comforting tone, aware that Crinnan was very psychologically fragile at that moment, "But yes… what you are experiencing is indeed a thing now."
Crinnan rubbed his forehead between his fingers and released an agitated sigh. His eyes again wandered to the dead soldier whose memories he had just seen, and then promptly back to Sage, "So what am I supposed to do?"
"Worrying about it will not change what you have become," Sage answered, offering his wisdom, "Right now, I should say we need focus only on the task at hand, returning you to where you belong."
Crinnan shook his head and looked away from the dead soldier. He was overwhelmed with disbelief; he tried to rationalize his thoughts. None of what he was experiencing made any sense to him and it was pushing him beyond the point of stress.
He watched as the body of the Govian lifted into the air. More of his blood spilled onto the floor as it moved and Crinnan watched as Sage used his magic, his NaNe as he called it, to transport the body out the door with the others. When the body landed in the pile, Sage turned his focus toward Crinnan and pursed his lips together.
"Things will not be the same for you," he promised grimly, "You had a brush with death, and it changed you. Your life will never be as it once was. You have witnessed much today; I should say, much more than many of your peers will witness in a lifetime." He paused for a moment and turned to look out into his lawn, "Forgive me," he continued, "I fear I may be manifesting more questions than answers, and for that I am sorry. For now, let us leave the questions behind and venture forth into the Belhaasi Weald that we may return you to your home."
Sage stepped through the hole in the front of his house, and Crinnan followed. He felt like his mind could take no more surprises, everything he had experienced weighed heavily on him. He had no idea what to think of the vision of the soldier's family or whatever it was that he had seen. He was afraid of Sage and the reign he had on his NaNe abilities and was worried about returning home.
They walked across the lawn and Crinnan took one last look at the dead bodies. They reached the treeline, and before they crossed into the thick forest, Crinnan looked back at Sage's house. He noticed that growing behind the old home was a single tree that towered over all the others. It had chocolate colored bark and leaves that were a deeper green than he had ever seen. The tree looked healthy and strong, and Crinnan sensed a strange sort of power emanating from its ancient trunk. It wasn't his tree to worry about though, and so he shrugged and kept walking.
"The Belhaasi Weald was not always the moldy forest of ruins you know them to be," Sage commented as the two walked, "After the ancient city called Belhaas was leveled by the forces of the Church in the early stages of the war, nothing was supposed to be able to live here for quite some time. You see, Belhaas was the headquarters to many members of the Alliance of Corporations, the only power strong enough to oppose the Church, and many great corporate leaders died when the bombs fell. What the Church did not anticipate, and probably did not care about nearly as much as you and I should, was the survival of the experiments."
Sage and Crinnan crossed the treeline and stepped into what felt like a completely different world. The ancient trees stood tall and seemingly untouched. For centuries their gnarled misshapen trunks of grey and brown grew amid the irradiated soil. Their roots twisted and tangled under Crinnan's feet, and their height was enough to greatly hinder the Brother's light from touching the forest floor.
Crinnan noticed many shapes and sizes of leaves; some were as small as a coin, others as large as he. The shadowy ground was littered with layers of the decomposing leaves, fallen limbs, and crumbled remains of the city that was once Belhaas.
It had been a thousand years or so since the last bomb fell on Belhaas. Many buildings, while dilapidated and covered in mold and vines, still stood in spite of the time and destruction. The Humaan Steel that the frames of the buildings and automobiles were so expertly crafted withheld to its reputation as some of it still gleamed in what light could penetrate the canvas above. While the concrete walls of the buildings were mostly crumbled or in the process of crumbling, Crinnan was able to get a general idea of how the city may have once looked.
The asphalt roads had turned to dust and gravel and left behind the steel frames. Leaves and dirt mostly covered the frames and filled in the holes between the bars, but occasionally Crinnan would catch a glimpse of the rebar peeking through. What Crinnan found interesting was the mostly unmolested black shining divider that ran down the center of all the streets and stood nearly as high as his waist.
"Nanomachine technology had a rather chaotic infancy; I should say," Sage explained as the two crunched their way through the dead leaves, "The 'experiments' that a few of the corporations in the AOC had were nearly all underground, safely locked away from the public. Ironically enough, their imprisonment proved to be their salvation as they were not exposed to the bombs or the undead results of the chemical weapons. Eventually, the subjects escaped and somehow survived the fallout and the regenerating undead. These ruins ultimately became their city."
Crinnan heard what Sage was saying, but did not make an effort to acknowledge his words. As he drudged his way through the ruins, he found that his thoughts were too lost on the vision that he'd had. He could not help but wonder if it was some kind of weird dream induced by fatigue, or the drugs that Sage had pumped into him. Alternatively, he wondered if he had actually spoken to the person he had killed. None of the scenarios settled well with him.
"They are around, the Toraan as they are called," Sage continued, "They are constantly hunting, watching and silently waiting. While some are peaceful little monsters, most are not so. I should say you need to be on your guard… be mindful of the undead as well, though I doubt we will see any in this part of the woods. The NaNe has adapted to the parasite in their bodies and has kept both parasite and host alive for one thousand years. Those of them that have survived this long are much more than the mindless, shambling ghouls they once were."
"I will stay on alert then," Crinnan half mumbled. "I do not intend on finding myself captured again."
"As you should not," Sage replied, as he stepped on what Crinnan surmised was an Ancient decayed jawbone. Sage cringed for a moment but did not slow his stride.
"That could have belonged to anyone," he commented, "Perhaps an associate of my ancestors? I should say this city is littered with the remnants of those that once lived."
"Those that once lived."
Sage's words rang through Crinnan's head, further fueling the unsettling flames that had earlier been ignited in his mind. He thought again of the vision of the boy, the son of the Govian he had slaughtered earlier that day. He dwelt on the innocence and sadness in the child's eyes. He thought of the boy pleading with his father to remain home and recalled the same fear that had once been his own, the fear of knowing his own parents lived a life of danger, and may one day never come home.
Crinnan felt a cold jolt shoot down his spine, and it threw him off balance for a moment. A strange and curious feeling of foreign sorrow seemed to slowly envelop his own emotions. Crinnan thought the sensation odd for he himself did not feel the emotion of sorrow, but more so the presence of sorrow.
Sage watched as Crinnan stepped off balance again and paused for a moment as he leaned his shoulder up against a tree for support. He hurrie
d over to the boy and grabbed each of his shoulders, slowly easing him to the ground. By then, Crinnan had begun to sweat from his brow.
"I should say I would like to know what seems to be plaguing you, dear boy," Sage knelt next to Crinnan, who had his face buried in his hands, "You are not well."
"I don't know," Crinnan said between heavy breaths. His spine felt icy cold, and the feelings of sorrow and vertigo were making it hard for his own thoughts to manifest. He felt the vertigo overcome him once again and as his eyes rolled back into his head, everything went black, and he crashed backward into Sage's arms.
***
Darkness surrounded him in all directions. Nothing was visible as far as he could see, and not a sound was to be heard at that moment. Crinnan felt as though he was standing on something solid, but he could not even see his own feet.
"Again?" he asked, feeling both scared and annoyed. He sighed and crossed his arms, "Why does this keep happening?"
"Hello?" a voice beckoned. The voice sounded strange, it echoed through the darkness like a ripple in the water, "Hello is it you?"
"Who?" Crinnan replied, "Who are you?" Crinnan was met with momentary silence. He could see nobody, but he could once again feel the air of sorrow he had experienced earlier.
"I am…" the voice returned, "I guess I was… Eshan."
"Eshan?" Crinnan repeated. "Are you…"
"I am the one you killed," Eshan revealed. "You saw my son, Aron… you stole me from him…"
"How are you here?" Crinnan asked, "Is this some kind of dream?"
"A dream…" Eshan reflected, "I wish it were. I hope it is… but I see through your eyes now, I feel with your skin… yet, despite my efforts, I cannot walk with your legs or reach with your arms. I can only think my thoughts and feel my feelings. What have you done to me, Demon?" His voice was dull and apathetic, lacking emotion. Crinnan found the whole situation very eerie.
"Why do you Govians keep calling me that?" Crinnan asked, "Why am I Demon?"
"Because you are!" Eshan shouted with a different tone, his voice echoing through the entire void of darkness, "You are Demon, a filthy sinner. A murderer! You have defied the ways of the Emperor and Goddess Dura'Ana, and you have bound my soul to this never-ending darkness, instead of letting me pass into Heaven!"
"Fuck you and your Heaven," Crinnan sneered, "Fuck your Cidro and Dura'Ana. You got yourself killed; you could not handle your own weapon. You emptied your whole magazine before you even had me in your sights!" Eshan fell silent.
"You robbed me of Aron," Eshan sharply whispered, "I will never see my son again."
"Yeah, well that is how this works," Crinnan said. "You are surprised that you, a soldier, died? It is not my fault. Had you not died, I would have. Don't blame me, blame Govia. Blame your Goddess. Blame yourself even. I do not give a shit… How the Hells do I wake up from this? I am through with you."
"You wish to awaken," Eshan repeated drolly. He was silent for a moment, and then Crinnan heard him laugh, "Awaken then, but only after you guarantee me that I will one day see my son again."
"I will awaken when I fucking please," Crinnan snorted. "Why would I make a deal with a Govian?"
"You will awaken when I will it," Eshan replied, "Just as you pass into this realm when I will it. Now, promise me."
Crinnan thought about it for a moment and realized that Eshan might very well have been telling the truth. He had, up to that point, received no explanation as to why he was entering and leaving the dark realm as he had been, or why he was falling unconscious. Even further, he realized that if he was just dreaming, then making promises to a figment of his imagination would do no harm, though he doubted the idea that what he was experiencing was a dream.
"Fine," Crinnan relented, "But no more of this. Do not make me fall asleep anymore. Do not make me dizzy or any of that shit. I have work to do. Promise me that and I will… find a way."
"Fine," Eshan said. "Now awaken."
***
"Ah, there he is now," Sage declared as Crinnan slipped back into consciousness, "You see? Simply weakened by the journey, catching but a mere moment of respite."
Confused, Crinnan opened his eyes and looked to Sage. He wondered if Sage was talking to him or simply caught in a monologue. Crinnan had no problem doubting the latter.
"Do not be rude. Say hello to our guest," Sage announced as he nodded past Crinnan, "I should say, he is a most selfless individual. He wandered upon us and showed concern for your state."
Crinnan turned his head and saw a Govian soldier standing with his rifle trained on them. He groaned as the soldier turned his head and spoke into a radio clipped to his shoulder.
"The Demon is in my custody. All units on my position."
Chapter Eight
Sarasin II
22nd of Ramlia – 346AG
10:00 – Canrom City
She silently sat alone in a dimly lit bar. The wooden booth was sticky and uncomfortable, the floor beneath her was covered in old napkins and straws, but she didn't care. She had so much more on her mind.
Her hood was raised and her back hunched so that she could look directly into the cup in front of her. The glass of Dravink that sat on the table was tilted slightly toward her. As she gazed into the green liquid, she considered everything that had just happened, everything she had done.
Korros was dead; that much was for sure, but her satisfaction had been short-lived. The vision of the Demon had rocked her to the core, the confirmation that he had made it, that he was back on Duraan. She sighed and swallowed a drink, finally leaning against the back of the cushioned booth.
"I am going to lose everything," she whispered to herself as she disregarded her thoughts of the Demon for a moment, "That little girl, she knows my name."
Sarasin thought herself a fool. She disappointedly chided herself, how could she have forgotten about the little red-haired girl that was sitting next to Korros? She feared the child would talk, that she would tell the authorities everything. Sarasin saw no other ending to her sins; she imagined the girl was with the Inquisitors at that very moment. Gently, she placed her cup down on the dark wood table before her and looked at the bare wooden wall next to her.
"If she talks…" Sarasin whispered as she spoke to herself, "she will ruin me." She nervously redirected her gaze to one of the televisions mounted on the wall behind the bar in the center of the room. A brayball game was playing, but she had no interest in it.
She watched and waited for the news to interrupt the match. The incident would be enough to disrupt normal programming, to put the entire city on alert. She grabbed her head anxiously and closed her eyes as she looked away.
"No…" she decided, manifesting the voice of reason within her, "It is still too soon. I still have time… Lazarus will help me." She brushed her hair out of her face as she grabbed her cup again, "Lazarus will understand. He will save me." She took a drink and glanced over at the screen again, wringing her hands together nervously. She felt like she was acting insane like she was being irrational. Lazarus most certainly would have said so. With a shake of her head, she set the cup back on the table.
"Is everything alright my lady?" a female voice unexpectedly asked her. Surprised, she snapped her head to the right to find a long red-haired teenage waitress standing before her. The girl was petite and pretty with bare bony shoulders and a warm smile. Sarasin nodded her head and lifted her hand in dismissal.
"All is well," Sarasin replied. "Thank you."
"Is it?" the waitress insisted. She silently stood as if she were expecting a response. Sarasin glared at the waitress and nodded her head slowly.
"Yes, now if you will leave me…"
"Everything is okay. Even after you killed him? Have you found peace or has your mind manifested different problems to fill the void that his death left behind?" the waitress asked, "You did it right there, right in front of me. You murdered the most beloved Priest in all of Canrom, perhaps the world. Is everything okay?"
<
br /> Sarasin's grip on her cup strengthened and the glass shattered. Quickly she stood up from her seat and placed her hand on the hilt of the rapier at her side. She turned to face the waitress but was left perplexed by the fact that there was nobody there. She also noticed that her behavior had garnered the attention of everyone in the bar. She reached up and pulled her hood down tighter out of embarrassment.
She once again lifted her hand in dismissal and sat down. What was going on? Was she seeing things? Her glove was soaked with Dravink, and so she removed it, revealing her long pointed fingernails. Briefly, she smiled at her manicure as she placed the glove on the table in front of her to dry. The smile quickly faded, however, and she rested her head on her dry hand and placed her elbow on the table, closing her eyes.
"Rough day?" a voice asked, not giving her time to process what had just happened. Her heart raced as she looked up and saw that the bartender had left his bar and approached her with a towel in hand, ready to clean up her mess.
"Indeed," she replied as she scooted toward the wall so that the bartender could work, "But all is well." She tried to keep to herself, but to her surprise, the bartender took a seat across from her. He was an old Humaan with thin hair and lines all over his face. Sarasin ignored him and hoped he would be quick.
"You know," the bartender scooted the broken glass into a pile with his rag, "I noticed you when you walked in. There is something different; something almost regal about you. The quality of your clothes, the way you walk… that elegant looking rapier at your side." Sarasin waited impatiently but did not speak.
"What led a person like you to a place like this today?" he continued, "Sura'a of all days, should you not be resting? That is what Sura'a is for is it not?"
"I am resting," she replied shortly. "This place is exactly what I need. Thank you."
"Well I am glad you think so," the bartender smiled as he wiped up the last of the Dravink, "But you do know, you do realize… that you are not actually here, right?" Sarasin turned her head and looked up at the bartender, lifting an eyebrow.
The Black Knight Box Set Page 10