Emptiness

by Viktor Zólyomi

  `I will try. I will not let this demon make me into a butcher.'

  `I was certain you'd choose this path, Jason, but know this: suppressing the demon is more difficult than you can imagine. You must be strong. Strong mentally... and strong physically as well. You must train both your body and your mind, if you hope to stand tall against the demon inside you.'

  `I understand.' I nodded. `Can you help me?'

  `Alas, I cannot.' he said with a sad smile. `I can help you become strong mentally, but not physically. However, there is someone here in Kh'Tal who might just be able to help you.'

  `Who is he?'

  `He is a mysterious fellow. He never told his real name to anyone. He simply refers to himself as Doorn, which means warrior in an ancient language here in Kh'Tal. I never met him, but I can tell you where you can find him. Show him respect, and perhaps he will agree to train you. He can help you become stronger, both in body and in mind.'

  `Thank you...'

  `Thank him, if he can help you. Go now, and have a nice long sleep. It's a long way to his retreat, and you need to be well rested. I shall prepare some things for your journey.'

  `I just woke up, and. you said you needed to rest...'

  `Don't worry about me, Jason. I am weary, but I can handle it. Every second counts for you now...'

  I understood what he meant. The demon had just surfaced from me the day before, and had taken satisfaction for itself. For a while, it would be less intent on surfacing again. I should use this time as best I could.

  I nodded, and left his laboratory. I went back to my room, but I just couldn't sleep.

  Who could have slept after having learnt what I learned that day?

  The warrior

  Doorn's retreat, Kh'Tal, fifteen years ago (17 years, 4 months, and 8 days before Twilightfall)

  I entered the cave that Aurach had directed me to. At a hurried pace it was a few days' walk from his castle, and the supplies he had given me came in handy. I tried to stay as far from any travelers as I could, and fortunately I managed to avoid meeting anyone. I did not want to give the demon another chance to kill.

  I was curious what kind of a man this Doorn may be. Aurach had told me that many people sought him out to learn, thriving to become formidable and disciplined warriors. He said that most never made it through his tutelage, but the few that did became warriors of great renown. Doorn himself had to have been a great fighter then, and I was curious why such a man would live a hermit's life all alone hidden from the world like a man who doesn't want to be found, and at the same time offer tutelage to those that find him.

  His cave was enormous. The beginning sections were plain and dark, but somewhat deeper torches and candles illuminated the area, and the hides of various creatures decorated the walls. In the innermost section of his cave I saw some weapon racks holding a large variety of weapons, most of which I had never seen before. Surprisingly, no armor stands were to be found anywhere.

  This innermost chamber contained a small underground lake far right of the entrance, and Doorn was sitting by the water. He did not seem like he spotted me, but as I opened my mouth to greet him, he called out to me.

  `Come inside!'

  His voice was deep and gruff, perhaps even unsettling, but I didn't let that scare me off. I approached him.

  `Thank you for your welcome.' I told him.

  He stood up, and turned towards me. He was dressed in black from head to toe, and he wore a hood. By his appearance, I guessed that he was human, but I couldn't be sure until he removed the hood.

  He was indeed human. His face was old and worn, and his eyes were cold.

  `Are you looking for shelter from the storm?' he asked.

  Again, his voice was deep and gruff. Surprisingly, he was almost whispering, but that whisper resounded like thunder.

  `I am looking for the one they call Doorn.'

  He looked at me, surveying me from top to bottom and back, and then slowly unsheathed his sword. It was a long, curved blade and it shone like silver. A magically enchanted weapon, one which I later learned was very powerful. He smoothed his left palm up and down the blade, and then sheathed the sword. I could see that the blade was very sharp, yet, he did not cut his hand.

  `You have found the one they call Doorn.' he said as he sheathed the weapon. `Although, as you must have heard, Doorn is merely a phrase which means one with warrior, a phrase with which I am labeled by those that know of my skills but know not of who I am.'

  `Yes, I have heard. If you tell me your name, I shall address you properly.'

  `Names are but labels that mortals choose to put on things to distinguish between them, when it really doesn't matter what we call them. They are what they are, regardless what we call them. My name, you ask? It is not relevant. A petty label has no relevance whatsoever. It is the person that matters, not the label given to the person.'

  `Then, how may I address you?'

  `That depends. Why have you come here?'

  `I was told that you could teach me how to control... my... inner demons. That you could train me, and help me to overcome this... thing... inside me...'

  `I see. Do you wish to learn then?'

  I nodded respectfully.

  `Yes.'

  `Then you may address me, as Master.'

  I nodded respectfully once more.

  `Yes, Master.'

  He smiled slightly.

  `How may I address you, my student?'

  `My name is Jason Vogan.'

  He raised his eyebrows upon hearing my name. He seemed very surprised.

  `You are aware that Doorn means warrior...' he said. `...but are you familiar with this language, Jason?'

  `No.'

  `In the very same language, Vogan means Black Horse, and Jason means Rider. So, your name means Rider of the Black Horse. Very interesting...'

  I was shocked to hear that. A strange coincidence, that my name would have such a meaning in an ancient language of an alien world. In Arghard, the Rider is a legend known by all. A fearsome legend. In fact...

  The Rider of the Black Horse is a legend of nightmares. The Rider is essentially a symbol of death. Legends speak of the Rider slowly walking through villages and every last living soul dropping dead as the Rider merely passed them by. Legends speak of the Rider being the last sight of dying men. Legends speak of the Rider taking warriors into the Afterlife after they fell in battle. There are countless such legends surrounding the Rider. The one thing they all have in common, is that he brings death to wherever he goes. For one who was born in Arghard to have a name which means one with the Rider is bad omen, so they say. I was never keen to superstition, but this troubled me. It filled me with a sense of dread, a terror that my life would be filled with death.

  I always hoped time would prove me wrong.

  I had no idea...

  `That... is a strange coincidence.' I told him.

  `Coincidence?' he asked. `Perhaps. Or perhaps it is destiny. Know that I hail from a world called Arghard, where there is a dark legend surrounding the Rider. And you, seeing as you are obviously no native... I would not be surprised to learn, that you have in fact come from the very same world...'

  `Yes. I am from Arghard...'

  `Then remember the meaning of your name well, Jason, for one day, you may have to face even greater demons than what you know today.'

  `Greater than what's in me now?' I asked, intimidated by what could be worse.

  He raised his eyebrows again.

  `You spoke of inner demons. Were you speaking figuratively, or literally?'

  `Both...' I replied, after a brief hesitation.

  `Very well. You shall have to tell me more of your demons. For now, tell me, what is it that you wish to learn? How do you want to conquer your demons?'

  `I was told, that to fight the demon inside me, I must be strong both mentally and physically. I seek to strengthen my body and my mind.'

  `I see. You don't seem like a fighter, Jason...'
r />   `I am a mage.' I told him.

  `I have some passing knowledge of magery myself. I, too, was a mage when I was young. Long ago... In time, I forfeited much of my magical power to train myself in different ways, to evolve. I will teach you what I can, but it is up to you to learn how to walk the path of the warrior.'

  `I understand.'

  He nodded, and walked to me.

  `I suppose you are tired. The road must have been long.'

  `It was tiring, but I am ready to begin anytime.'

  He smiled briefly upon hearing that.

  `Very good! You have learned the first lesson of the path of the warrior already: one must always be ready to fight!'

  I nodded slowly, and then we walked over to the weapon racks.

  `First, you must select a weapon you wish to master, Jason! You must know, that while a versatile warrior is greatly skilled in the use of many weapons, their broad knowledge of arms does not make them the best fighters. The greatest of warriors excel in the use of but a single weapon, possessing unmatched skill in the use of that weapon and being able to use it effectively against nearly any adversary. You, as a mage, should definitely choose this path of becoming a master of one weapon. After all, as a mage, your magical skills will make up for your lack of versatility. Magic, in fact, provides for the ultimate versatility...'

  His words made sense, and so I nodded and began to survey the weapons.

  `Choose one.'

  I did not know much about most of those weapons, and so I was at a loss. I knew not what to choose. The heaviest weapons were out of the question, and the lightest ones were not much better than a dagger, other than that they had a longer reach. I surveyed them for a while and then I remembered his sword. I did not see such a sword in either of the weapon racks however.

  `Are these all the weapons you have, Master?' I asked.

  `Are you missing something perhaps?'

  `Yes. I see no sword like yours.'

  He smiled again. Then I understood that he drew the sword earlier just so that I could see it. He wanted me to see it.

  `Is that the weapon you wish to master then?' he asked.

  I hesitated to answer. I heard something in his voice that made me cautious, and after some moments, I knew what to reply. He was testing me again.

  `Perhaps, but perhaps not. How am I to choose if I have not yet tried them all, one by one? You carry that sword because you chose it, because you felt it was the best for you. For me, perhaps that will be the best, perhaps not. I must try them all, before I make my choice.'

  `You must choose now.'

  `I can't. I must try them all first.'

  `So, you defy my command?!' he said with a strict voice. Before I could answer, he smiled and said:

  `Good! Very good! You must be aware that all your actions can and will have consequences, hence making a mistake, even a single mistake, can cost you dearly. Often you may be given ill advice, and you must rely on your own common sense to realize that.'

  Then his eyes turned very strict.

  `You learned another important lesson. Choices must not be made by appearance, nor by the opinion of others, but by one's own experience.'

  I nodded, but then he added:

  `You must however also learn that there are times when decisive action must be taken, times when one cannot hesitate. When one must make the best of one's abilities and skills. When there is no time to look for the best solution, but instead one must choose from the options readily available.'

  `I understand.'

  `Good. Then choose any weapon you like and join me by the lake.' he said, as he proceeded to walk back to the water. `We will begin your training with whatever you choose now, and we will continue with the rest once you've learned all the basics of this one.'

  Heeding his words, I did not hesitate. I picked up a light but long bladed sword, and headed after my newfound Master. So began my training on the path of the warrior.

  The Enforcers

  Somewhere on the way towards Gatestown, Ess'yer, present day (2 years, 3 months, and 8 days before Twilightfall)

  `There it is, men! Just ahead of us.' exclaims Aaron. `The town of Awyn!'

  Awyn. A small town like Drraum, but with a larger garrison. They have fine wares, as I hear. Perhaps that is why Aaron wants to restock our supplies here. But I also hear this place is far from being cheap, and that would likely scare a greedy dwarf like Aaron miles from here...

  As we draw closer to the town, we find its gates closed, and no guards waiting outside.

  `Strange... ' says Aaron. `Why are the gates closed? These people used to be less hostile...'

  As we reach the gates, they open, and four armed warriors walk out and halt us. Two night elves, a human, and a wood elf. They wear the symbol of the Supreme Council on their tunics.

  The Enforcers...

  The law in the lands of Ess'yer. They are never around when you need them, but they're always nosing about when you don't.

  They are the personal mercenary guild of the Supreme Council. Officially their name is Supreme Guard, but they are called Enforcers by most people. They are the ones who enforce the laws of the Council. They do so strictly and relentlessly. They punish everything that's against the laws, no matter how minor it may be. They show no compassion to anyone. Not even their own.

  `This looks bad...' says Aaron silently. Then he speaks to the four Enforcers:

  `Greetings! Why are the gates closed?'

  `You must wait for our Commander, he will explain the situation!' replies one of the night elves.

  `Very well...' says Aaron.

  We wait, and a few minutes later, another night elf steps out the gate.

  He does not wear the uniform of the Supreme Guard. He is dressed in black, and bears his family crest on his tunic, a clenched fist in the color of silver. His hair is as jet black as his clothes, and so are his eyes. He carries no weapons, just two wands stuck in his belt.

  Eric Shyrn...

  Quite the warrior he is. He fights unarmed, and has yet to find his match as I hear, but I've also heard rumors of his dark secrets. They say he is a master of the Dark Arts. If that's true, it makes it all the more astounding that he managed to fight his way into such a leading position in the elven court two and a half centuries ago. Yes... An astounding feat for one like him to become second in command of the elves...

  It is a huge mystery in its own right, and it's a likewise huge mystery if Supreme Councilor Worriil is aware of Eric Shyrn's secrets. Then again, Shyrn and Worriil are both night elves. Even if Worriil knew, perhaps he wouldn't mind much. After all, night elves may not practice black magic any more, but thousands of years ago they separated from the wood elves exactly because they embraced black magic. It would be no surprise to find that some of them still practice the Dark Arts in secret.

  `Who are you and where are you headed?' he asks Aaron.

  `My name is Aaron Chraem and I am a merchant, my Lord. I am heading to the great city of Re'Cas with a shipment of the finest of elven wines!'

  `Elven wines, eh? Very well, dwarf... Who are your companions...?'

  `They are guards of my shipment, my Lord.'

  He steps next to me and eyes me with suspicion.

  `Him, too?'

  `He is my personal bodyguard, my Lord.'

  `Show me your face, warrior!' he commands me. So be it. You asked for it, Eric Shyrn...

  I slowly remove my hood, and he and all his goons look at my face. He does not show the slightest bit of shock, or even disgust. Rather, he shows signs of interest in the nature of the various wounds and scars that he sees on my face.

  One of his lackeys however apparently couldn't take it with his stomach. The human Enforcer turns away and starts vomiting.

  Eric Shyrn turns towards him, then orders his men with a slight nod.

  `Such weakness is not tolerated amongst us!' he says strictly, and turns back to me, not caring much for one of the night elf Enforcers unsheathing his sword an
d simply beheading the kneeling, vomiting human, his now former comrade. Instead, he gives all his attention to the wounds on my face.

  `These wounds...' he says `Your entire face is burnt from the bottom of your nose to the top of your head, and these scars look like they were made by large claws. What did this to you, warrior?'

  `A demon, my Lord.'

  `What sort of demon?'

  `I do not know its name, my Lord. It was around eight feet tall, had four arms, sharp claws, and it had three faces all around its head such that it could see in every direction.'

  `Interesting.' he sneers. `What happened to this creature when it attacked you?'

  `I killed it, my Lord.'

  `Killed it? Yes, I guess that explains why you are still alive, warrior. I had heard of these creatures you describe. They are very dangerous and tend to fight to the death. I've never had to fight one, but I know well what they can do. It must have been a difficult battle. You are fortunate to have escaped merely with suffering these wounds, do you know that?'

  `Yes, my Lord, I know. My companions were not so fortunate...'

  `Sole survivor, eh? Lucky man. Or perhaps you alone had the necessary skill to survive.'

  For a minute or so, he stares intently at my forehead, like he was trying to see through my skull. But then he says:

  `Alright, put the hood back on! You'd scare the peasants in town...'

  I put it back, and he turns away from me. Seems like he lost his interest in me. A pity. I would have liked to speak with him more. What does he know of the spawn of Th'Mesh, I wonder?

  No matter. He is not the sort who shares his knowledge with complete strangers. I can't even blame him for it, really.

  He turns back to Aaron and begins to talk.

  `Open your ears, merchant! The town of Awyn is locked down. There is a very dangerous outlaw hiding somewhere in the town. Our job is to apprehend him. In order to prevent his escape, we have locked down the town. You may enter the town only if you agree to the following terms. Your caravan wagons will be thoroughly checked by my men upon entry and departure, and each of you will be given a magical wristband that only we can remove. We will remove them when you leave, or when we capture the criminal we are looking for. Do you understand and accept these terms?'