by Robe
“I am Weston Revidious,” the man said. “You are the god I’ve learned everything I can about.”
“I am Argain,” Argain spoke, “but I am not a god. I am presently a prisoner within my own universe, and you, perhaps, are my savior.”
“Do not try to trick me, Argain,” Weston said. “I am wise to your ways, and I know what you have done.”
“Hah!” Argain barked. “I am in no position to attempt trickery, do you not agree?”
“I do agree, but I do not think it is beneath you.”
“You are indeed wise,” Argain said, his eyes flashing, “but you must still tread carefully, for wisdom alone can bring you only so far. Now, Weston Revidious, what is it you seek?”
Weston thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “A few moments ago, my intent was to bring your vessel to the College in Lanair, at which point I would be celebrated as a hero. But now, I feel as though my ambitions may have heightened.”
“Oh? And how is it that I can be of service to you?”
“Grant me your powers. Make me a god like you.”
Argain lifted his ghostly hand to rub the stubble of his ethereal chin. This young man was indeed brash, and although he knew Argain was an all-powerful being, he was not afraid.
“My strength is sealed away, and only by opening this urn can I grant your wish.”
Weston looked doubtful. “You expect me to unseal the lock on your prison so you can betray me?”
“Incorrect, Weston Revidious,” Argain replied. “I expect you to unlock the seal, and then help me find a suitable soul to inhabit. Then, I will give you what you desire.”
“You require a host? Otherwise your powers are null?”
“Yes.”
“And if I unseal that jar, how do I know you won’t use me as your host?”
“What have you to lose, Weston Revidious? Uncage me, and we both shall be controllers of this world.”
The look in Weston’s eyes was hard evidence to Argain that he had won over the young man. Weston reached out toward the vessel. He lifted it from in front of Argain and fingered the lid. “To partnership, then,” he said.
“To honor, and partnership,” Argain replied, and he watched as Weston twisted the lock and lifted the lid from the magical urn.
Instantly, Argain felt free, wonderfully free, and he grinned at Weston. The young man’s face grew terrified as he realized he’d been deceived, but Argain was upon him before he could flee. With a quick, serpent-like movement, Argain entered Weston through his mouth, and the boy’s eyes grew wide.
“Thank you, Weston Revidious,” Weston heard a voice inside his head, and then he saw nothing as Argain severed his soul. Argain consumed what was left of Weston’s consciousness before spreading himself through the husk, attaching his own life force to the body.
“I think I’m going to enjoy my new self,” Argain said, now in Weston’s voice. He bent down and picked up the two pieces of the urn, examining them as he exited the chamber in which he had been locked away for so long. He walked through the dark hallways, snorting at what used to be his captivity. He stepped out through the opening and looked up at the sky. With his newly acquired human lungs, he breathed in, and then he breathed out, enjoying everything about the world he had created. Looking down at the pot pieces in his hands, he thought of how little he would like to be confined to that prison again, and he cast the vessel out in front of him. Then, with a fiery bolt of energy, Argain unmade the magic urn. As the remains of the urn smoldered, Argain felt himself weaken and remembered that while in a human’s body, he shared a mortal’s limitations. He wanted to ascend into the skies but knew his body could not handle the transformation, and he would end up a powerless spirit once again.
“I guess I have something of a journey ahead of me,” he said to himself. It was amusing to him that he could feel his voice vibrate in his throat, and he chuckled as he set off.
2
Veese watched in horror as the man, standing before what looked like a specter, breached the urn Veese had worked so hard to protect. There was a burst of dark color, and mist poured from the jar, causing the stranger to recoil. The apparition vanished, and something unnatural and snake-like sprung from the vessel and coiled around the man. It constricted him tighter until he stopped struggling, and then it slowly slithered around the man’s body, disappearing as it crawled inside of him. The man stood still for a moment, and then he lifted his hand to his face. He said something and bent down to lift the magic pot from the ground before turning to exit the chamber.
Veese dove into the shadows behind a pile of rubble and waited for the being to pass, not even daring to breathe until the footsteps, echoing through the dark halls, faded away. Burying his face in his palms, Veese silently apologized to his ancestors for having failed them. He stood and crept through the ruins until he found the exit. As he stepped over the fallen gargoyle, he smelled a burning odor and looked to see a pile of ash laying a few paces in front of him on the ground.
Before he could question the substance, he became aware of other presences around him. There were people approaching. Each of them looked like an ordinary commoner, and all of them looked confusedly at each other and Veese. Veese laid his hand on the hilt of his sword in anticipation of a fight, but before he could even call out to the visitors, a flash interrupted and blinded him. His eyes burned and watered, but he was unable to move. Powerless to even cry out, Veese struggled against whatever had control over him, but as he did, his body felt as though it was surging with energy. The feeling was not uncomfortable, but calming.
Veese’s eyes snapped open and he was alarmed to find himself hovering several feet above the ground. After a quick exclamation, he dropped to the forest floor, landing quietly as he had trained himself to do. Veese crouched on the ground for a moment, bewildered, before remembering that others had been present during whatever had just occurred. Looking up, he saw the same five people, but all of them were also pushing themselves off the forest floor as if they too had experienced what Veese had. There were four men, although two of them could easily have been considered boys, and a woman. Each of them was staggering to his or her feet, and one of them was patting a fire out of his pants.
“Who are you?” Veese called to them. The people turned to look at each other again, more confused now than the first time. They did not appear to be associated with each other in any way, and all of them had been traveling from a different direction.
“Who are you?” one of the younger men, the one who had been set aflame, shouted back. Then he mumbled, “And how was I set fire to?” Next to him, a man with broad shoulders was helping the woman up from the ground.
The man closest to Veese approached, wobbling slightly as he regained his balance. Veese clutched his sword hilt as the stranger neared, but the outsider showed his palms in a gesture of peace. “My name is Auric. I mean you no harm.” The man extended one of his hands to Veese, and after a glance at the other people standing nearby, Veese gripped Auric’s palm. “I was merely passing through when a wave of light blinded me, and I became disoriented.” Auric was a man of average height and figure. His hair was dark brown and he had bushy eyebrows over his hazel eyes. He was far from what Veese would have considered old, but he was more mature than the two younger-looking men.
“It appears we all had a similar experience,” Veese spoke.
“I take it that was not a regular occurrence around here?” Auric asked, and Veese shook his head.
“I’ve seen many unusual things, but that takes the crown.” Auric turned to look at the temple. “That, too, is a new sight.”
Veese sighed as the weight of what had transpired within the ruins several moments ago careened back to him. He was certain that whatever had happened to him and these strangers was connected. The other people were gathering around the temple as well, looking nervously back and forth between each other and the crypt.
“Spooky, isn’t it?” the woman said quietly
.
“Impossibly,” Veese said, mostly to himself.
“What exactly is going on here?” the young man whose clothes were singed asked. “None of you are traveling together, right?”
“I came here in search of someone who was getting himself into more trouble than he ought to. He’s a friend of mine,” the broad-shouldered man said. His hair was very short, and he was the tallest and possibly the oldest of the strangers. He wore heavy boots, and a large sword hung in a sheath at his side.
“And who are you?” the younger man asked.
“I go by Dalk,” he replied.
“Nice to meet you, Dalk,” the younger man extended his hand, and Dalk clasped it. “I’m Reon.” Reon was shorter than most of the others, but he stood so confidently it didn’t show. He was grinning, allowing Veese to see the dimples carved into either side of his face. His hair was brown and unkept.
“My name is Joan,” the woman spoke up. “I was scouting the area for plants my mentor and I can use at the Apothecary in Rode.” Joan was also young, although not quite as young as the boys, with blonde, wavy hair and fair skin.
“I, too, came from Rode, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” Reon said.
“I live on the south side of Rode, the outskirts,” Joan replied.
“Oh,” Reon said. “My uncle sent me out to go hunting. He knows I’m no good though.”
“I was just traveling through,” Auric said, and he then introduced himself to the others, as he had to Veese, before continuing. “I didn’t expect to meet anyone here in the Cursed Forest.”
“How about you?” Reon asked, looking at Veese.
“I’m Veese,” he said, turning away from Reon to stare into the blackness of the temple.
“Why are you here?”
“I live here,” Veese said, still not looking at him.
“You live in the Cursed Forest?” Reon chimed, his eyes widening. “Why?”
Vesee sighed and shook his head.
“Alright, alright,” Reon said. “How about you? What’s your story?” he asked pointedly at the final individual.
The person of subject, the youngest of them, had light brown hair, and he looked about ready to run in response to Reon’s inquiry. “I don’t have a story,” he said as he took a step backwards.
“Whoah, whoah, settle down.” Reon showed his palms. “We’re not here to tussle.”
The boy looked at each of the people in turn and then said, “Ziem. My name is Ziem.”
Veese frowned. The snapping of a twig made him whip around. “It is unsafe here now. We have been discovered.”
“Discovered? What?” Reon asked, looking about.
“Follow me calmly,” Veese commanded, and he began to make his way around the other side of the temple. The group of people followed him, unsure of what else to do. Dalk gripped his sword and let the others pass him, his eyes scanning the trees for threats. Veese intended to take them to his camp, but he knew that what was pursuing them would never allow such an obvious group to pass through undisturbed.
A loud snarl alerted Veese as to which Raugen was stalking them, and he jumped straight up, grabbing the tree branch above him. He pulled himself onto it before drawing his thin blade. Chales burst through the greenery a fair distance away, snarling and frothing as he dashed toward the people still on the ground. Dalk pulled his sword, a wide, white blade, from its sheath, and the others moved behind him, readying themselves for the collision. Only Chales was stupid enough to attack alone and to reveal himself at such a far range, allowing his prey ample time to prepare. His bloodshot eyes rolled in their sockets as he bounded on all fours, and his maw gaped in anticipation of tearing into flesh.
Dalk yelled as Chales met him, and there was a loud clank as Chales’ vicious jaws connected with Dalk’s blade. Dalk wrestled with the monster for a moment before throwing him off. Recovering from a slight tumbled to the ground, Chales sprung back at Dalk with ever-increasing bloodlust. The two collided, and Chales roared when Dalk again blocked the creature’s attack with his sword. Blood spurted from Chales’ jaws onto Dalk’s face, causing the man to wince. Capitalizing on Dalk’s hesitation, Chales pushed forward hard. More blood came as the blade sliced farther into the creature’s mouth, but Dalk was knocked down.
Veese leapt from the tree branch on which he sat and landed with both feet on Chales’ back, his touch down not quiet this time. Before Chales could even panic, Veese plunged his sword into the monster’s head. Immediately, Chales’ snarling stopped.
Veese dragged Chales off of Dalk, and Reon pulled Dalk to his feet. “Are you alright?” Reon asked as Dalk wiped the beast’s blood from his face.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Dalk replied. “Just a little scare was all.”
Veese pulled his sword from Chales’ dead body and knelt beside him. He reached out and closed Chales’ eyelids over his bloodshot stare. As he sat silent before the dead beast, he knew the others would be watching, but he owed at least a few seconds of tribute to his fallen aquaintance.
“You felt compassion for that creature?” Joan asked Veese.
“I did,” Veese replied as he got to his feet.
“I’m sorry,” Dalk said, although he appeared more confused than compassionate. “I didn’t mean to cause harm.”
“You are not at fault,” Veese replied. He looked at Chales’ body for a moment longer and then turned to the near-strangers. “The longer we wait here, the more likely we are to be found. We must move.”
“There are more of those?” Reon asked.
“Eight more,” Veese said, and he began to walk in the direction of his camp.
The group exchanged concerned looks with each other as they followed him again. This time, Veese moved faster and worried less about being heard. The other Raugen would already have been alerted by Chales’ growls.
“Where are you taking us?” Auric asked Veese quietly.
“My home, the only safe place in this forest,” Veese said.
“How far?”
“Not far if we move fast,” Veese replied, and Auric fell back to the others.
They moved with little sound, spare the occasional twig Reon trampled, and the heavy breathing from all five of them. Veese was being reminded all too well why he preferred solitary living. Several minutes passed as the group traveled, moving tightly together and constantly looking around. Veese knew it would only be a short while before his camp would be in sight, and then they would be safe.
Snap! The sound of a branch breaking alarmed the group, and Veese knew they had been too slow.
“Run!” he hissed, and he dashed ahead, not bothering to see if the others were keeping up with him. He did not dare look back as he sprinted, beastly snarls and the cries of his brief companions filling the air. Veese stayed on course; any that could keep up with him would survive the Raugen ambush. Then he heard them calling to him, desperate and scared, and he halted. Turning, Veese saw two Raugen were tangling with the group of five people through the trees. Dalk was once again locked in combat with one of the beasts, trying to keep the snapping jaws of the Raugen at bay with his broad sword. The second beast had pinned Ziem to the ground, the other three people trying to pull it from him.
Veese knew he should run to protect himself, for only he had the knowledge of the Evil God’s escape from imprisonment. But alas, his empathy won out, and he rushed to help the people.
Before Veese could reach the battle to lend his sword, a burst of what looked like lightning radiated from Ziem, and the Raugen atop him was sent sprawling. Veese stopped in his tracks, shocked at what he had just seen. A rustle shook him from his awe, and he turned in time to see another Raugen diving from the trees just a few feet away from him. He turned his body to avoid the attack and felt himself lift off the ground inexplicably for a moment before the Raugen made a second leap, taking him down and disarming him.
“Stop this, Elorat!” Veese cried, and he had to grab the Raugen’s face to stop it fr
om mauling him. He did not want to kill any more of his fellow guardians of the temple, but they were leaving him no choice. Barely pushing Elorat’s face away, he glanced sideways and saw his sword lying too far away to grab. His strength was giving, and Elorat’s snapping jaws neared him. Just when he thought he couldn’t hold on another second, he felt Elorat’s weight lifting off of him, and he looked up to see Auric and Reon had rammed into the smaller Raugen. They easily pinned the beast, pushing the jaws into the ground where they could bite no one. Reon’s clothes were burning again, but he was too focused on holding Elorat and seemed, somehow, unaware.
Veese stood from the ground and took out a cord from his pocket. It would not be the first time he’d had to bind one of the Raugen as a means of protecting himself without harming the beast. He tied Elorat’s four legs together, forcing him to snarl and bark at them emptily.
The fighting settled. Dalk had slain the Raugen that was attacking him, and the beast, struck by whatever came off of Ziem, had run away, too startled to continue the fight.
“Thank you,” Veese said as Reon patted the flames out again.
“You would have done the same for us,” Auric said with a nod.
“We are still unsafe,” Veese said. “We must get back to my camp.”
“Ziem is hurt,” Joan said.
“No… not badly,” Ziem said from where he sat, but when he moved, a hiss of pain escaped his lips.
“Get me a bandage or a cloth, anything to keep the blood from spilling out freely,” Joan said, and Dalk tore off a piece of his cloak, kneeling beside her to help. They bound the cloth around Ziem’s side where the Raugen’s teeth had sunken into him from behind.
“Thanks,” Ziem muttered, and Dalk helped the boy to his feet before putting Ziem’s arm around his neck for support.
“Let’s move,” Dalk urged.
Veese led the way through the densest part of the Cursed Forest where he had made his home. The trees were so close together that Dalk and Ziem had to turn sideways to fit through some of the gaps. A strong gust of wind pushed through, making the leaves on the trees sway. Veese smelled the Raugen.