by JosephGeorge
Chapter VIII
. Stromvale .
- Seventh Age, year 49
Pitiful.
Not that he deserved any, but it sure was a scene to behold. Arms shaking against the rough wood as his thickset form struggled to lift each step and press forward, all the while dragging that blanched, and broken tree behind him.
Hewn by rough hands.
Drug by rough hands.
Stromvale loomed to his left as they snaked up the winding switchbacks that meandered up to the top. At the base lay a field of jagged stone, the remnants of storms past where the wind had chiseled into the rock face, splitting it open and letting the fragments of it’s heart spill out.
That was to be his bed for the night. And many nights to come.
Thick hair hung over his face, drenched in sweat and dripping blood from a cut over his left eye. That one had come from a soldier, clouting him for stepping out of line.
Or something like that.
The pole, as thick as a man and a bit longer, had been sitting in a yard somewhere for years, possibly decades, and was not a forgiving burden. With nothing but two hands and his own strength, of which there was a considerable amount, to take action, it was no small task to carry the weapon of his departure into the next life.
Once he had attempted to place it on his shoulders, but they quickly denied him that reward. A maximum effort would be required.
And definitely a maximum of pain to be paid for his debts to society.
That’s the way of your kind. I’ve seen it over and over again, that odd desire to look into another’s eyes, an inferior’s eyes, and see that bitter sweet tinge of suffering and agony there.
That’s not me, despite what you might think.
But it’s the world you now live in, so get used to it.
In fact, I’m sure you are by now.
His face, though, marked with a slashing scar that cut over his cheek and down past his lips, was as placid and stone as the cliffs he was attempting to scale. Not an emotion, not even a hint of nature bubbling up from under the skin. Despite all that he had endured, and the knowledge that there was yet more to come, he hadn’t broken, not yet.
Oh, it was true that his teeth would clench and the muscles on his neck tighten and twist as he struggled beneath the weight. Sweat pooling over his brow and letting the salt prick at his eyes.
He would grunt, and groan on occasion.
But where another may be tempted to grit in anger, or collapse in utter despair. Where a tear might have been shed…nothing.
Collected.
Calm.
Determined to simply reach that next rock at his feet.
He didn’t much care anymore, that is, nothing seemed to matter.
Something was on his mind, though.
The Stromvale cliffs had been the final destination on many a soul’s journey through life. Not one that they had chosen for themselves, but then, that’s not entirely true. They chose, because they made at least one decision at some point that pointed their prow in that direction.
Consequence was something that they hadn’t wanted, but they still picked it out, because everyone knew what was in store if they found themselves on the wrong side of the law.
That was no secret.
Grateful that they had left the crowds behind, he nearly smiled as the splinters of wood dug into his bare and raw hands. He never liked them, that is, people, and having them clawing at his face and spitting at his feet didn’t help with that reputation very much.
One other man trailed along behind him, only, he was the one being carried. Weak, and succumbing to elements and the stress placed upon him, he had collapsed in a fit and was now unconsciously being drug to the top. Perhaps on purpose? In the end, it didn’t really matter, though. Pain was pain, and it always had been.
You get over it eventually.
That, or you die, and when death comes, it matters even less.
But he wasn’t going for death, no, not this day.
Immortality would soon be granted to him. When his shattered body lay at the base of those towering steeps, torn about by rotting teeth of stone stained in blood; when the whole world stared on in rapture at the magnificence of his life, then…he could never die.
A grin, devilish and cruel, curled at the corners of his mouth. Biting pain stabbing at his leg as he stepped on a particularly jagged rock and stumbled to his knees nearly made him laugh a loud.
Yes, they would have their fun.
But they did not foresee what would become of it.
He’d been planning on that for a long time.
The punishment was the same for everyone; to drag the means of their death to the top, then take a quick trip to the bottom. The pole would be fitted into a deep hole carved into the edge of the rock. You stood on the end, and fire was lit at the base. It wouldn’t come to claim you as they had so graciously soaked the longer half of the trunk in a flame retardant. It smelled like a Targ.
Not quite that bad, though.
You had to make a choice then. Would you wait and watch as the flame slowly consumed the wood, or did you take command of your own death, and simple drop yourself from the edge?
Things were to be complicated, though, as soldiers took clawed knives and raked at your hands and feet, shredding the first few layers of flesh into a mash of blood and open ended nerves. Some passed out, but most were left to struggle as they hoped that the fire would snuff out in the wind. They couldn’t support themselves, as it hurt too much, so often they were found in their last few moments in a most humorous position of straddling the pole.
Death’s ride, it had been called.
As the teeth of the king’s blades sliced his own hands and feet, he couldn’t help but laugh at the pain.
It was all so stupid, all for naught.
Where did they think they were going to get with this?
“An ignominious death,” was his sentence. But this?
He couldn’t have asked for anything better.
The other screamed in tones of agony that trailed over the edge and collapsed on the monster’s teeth below. They both knew it would soon swallow them into the abyss that is the ending of life and light.
But they couldn’t have been more different.
One paled at even the mention of death, and now facing it for the very first time, he was hysterical and nearly uncontrollable. The soldiers clubbed him back into submission with their gauntlets, only adding to the open marks that bled red.
What other color is there to bleed?
Only black poured from his soul, though. Like an infection that would plague the land. There was no stopping it now.
You could kill a man.
You could silence a rumor.
But legend, reader, legend is something that never dies.
Remembering back to a similar moment as he was forced out onto the unstable pole now laid into the wall of rock, he found himself back in the cavernous depths of Uth-niss Aer. Reaching for a companion, slipping to the ground and feeling his face make connection with sharp stone. There was a lot of blood then, pouring over his hands, and the other man’s as well.
A friend had been lost that day, but it was alright, because another was gained, and this more important than the last.
He saw his face, only, it was a fleeting specter that disappeared into the clouds above. Sun mocked and glared, willing the flames to perform their task if only a bit faster.
And still, he did not care.
They did not understand. All of them pompous magistrates and politicians, so lost.
He grinned, raising his head to look at them one at a time, each catching a glimpse, however small, of what it must be like to have gone entirely insane. They say that insanity is a state of the mind, or rather, a state of losing your mind, but it was so much more than that.
Shadow swept over them, shrouding out the light for a few moments.
A cloud?
All eyes still riveted on the ma
n, he rose to full height, spreading arms wide.
This would be his last testament, and what the world would remember.
Then he fell, only, deliberately, but to say he jumped would be to lie. For him, there was no rush. All things would come in due time, unfortunately though, some things faster than others.
Down through the fog and the clouds that roiled up the stone face.
The rocks were not the forgiving type that day.
. Lost, but Found .
- Seventh Age, year 718
Yes, it was true that she could choose to do as she wished, but he still couldn’t believe that she would act that way. It seemed so…strange to him. Especially after all that had happened.
Motioning for another helping of food, he sipped idly at the mug of thick lager. Not the first time he’d tasted any alcoholic beverage, but it certainly wasn’t a habit of his.
His father had made sure of that….
A rich, nutty texture crackled at the edge of his tongue, and seared his throat like a fire brand as it went down. Not exactly what he pictured when drinking something cold. How people could ever find themselves addicted to this stuff, he couldn’t say.
The food was good, though. A heavy helping of roasted meat, served over a mess of assorted noodles and vegetables. The trip through the wilderness had left him a bit thin, and he could feel skin stretching tight over his cheekbones, falling into his features to add years to his appearance.
Over two weeks.
That’s how long they’d been walking out there.
Time didn’t really seem to be that important anymore.
Aviin was just grateful, though, that they hadn’t needed to take her to a healer or physician, but even that caused him a bit of alarm.
She was different, but in what way….
The Inn was nearly filled now, with a caravan coming through in the night. They sat at the tables, drinking and shoveling food into their faces like it was to be their last day. Conversations rang heavy around the room, sometimes bursting into laughter, sometimes angered yelling stalling everything for a few heated moments, until they all began laughing again.
What a life it must be. He thought to himself. To travel the world, always experiencing something new.
Then that realization came to him that always seems to come to those that think. He began to make sense of the world, and to put things in their proper order.
This was his new life, and it was no different than theirs.
Excitement raced through his heart as he started to understand that all those things he had dreamed about, the days as a child spent in pretend, of going on grand adventures and slaying foul beasts, were all staring him down from the future.
He was now a free man.
For what it was worth.
The traders, on their way to the next city, no doubt, to barter their wares brought from far off lands. He’d heard tales of how they went even as far as Rift’s Reach, to the other realms where strange and magnificent beasts roamed the lands, even built great cities that rivaled the Empire’s.
A small group of younger looking men and woman sat at a table in the corner. One had a small instrument leaned against her chair, which led him to believe that they would be traveling minstrels or performers.
There was a time when he’d stopped to watch them acting in the street.
But his father had pulled him away…just as always.
A few hardened gentlemen sat together along the bar’s edge, not saying much, only slowly tapping at the counter when their selected draught began to run low. Well on in years, their ragged features and ragged clothing spoke of a life spent amongst the wild, ranching or farming he couldn’t say, but there was no easy road laid before them, and certainly not one falling behind.
These were the men that had built the Empire. The men that braved the elements to provide the very basics of necessities for the rest of the people. Their harvests, whether of crops or meat, would find its way to some great hall high up in Arribinthia, to rest on the plate of perhaps Remus himself.
To feed the line of kings.
How funny it was, to think that even the greatest of men, no matter their position, would still find themselves in debt to the poorest of peasants when that day of judgement came.
So many different lives to lead, and all intriguing to his relatively juvenile mind.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t gained experience, simply…he lacked knowledge. Knowledge of anything, to be exact, as all he had known was the blade.
Ask him how to siege a castle, and he’d give you every possibility, drawling on for hours upon hours of what the weakest points in their defenses would be, the exact point to breech the walls, all things that he’d spent much of his younger years researching and being trained on.
An invitation to speak of matters that worried the Empire; how trading went in the great markets; sing a ballad of the history of the realm, all these things were beyond him.
Aviin gritted his teeth, biting past the next mouthful of ale and letting it burn away his frustration. Funny, how something so bitter could only be washed away by another similarly bitter substance.
He was beginning to understand, then, how they could do it.
Lifting mug to his lips once again, he glanced around the room.
Two more men had just entered, strolling up to the counter and conversing with the innkeeper about accommodations and the like. Their clothes were well used and spoke of some grand adventure they had undoubtedly experienced.
This was what he wanted. To be free to choose his own path.
To be like them.
“…the fool, thinking that he could get away with such a thing.”
“Aye, but Kurn will be coming with a dozen others soon enough. Then, all we have to do is play a little game of tag, and she’ll be ours.”
“What do you suppose Blue-hand wants with her?”
One of the men motioned for a drink, then a bit impatiently slammed a fist to the counter and demanded his already paid for trip into the world of forgetting
“That doesn’t matter.” He said. “All I care about is that we get paid, and trust me when I say this, if he doesn’t spit up when we get there, I’ll take her somewhere else. There’s bound to be a heavy bounty on the underground.”
“Aye, the gold is more important….”
“Rich and stupid, that’s all I care about.”
Chuckles, but only halfheartedly given.
It paid off, but not always….
Stretching his joints, the larger of the two turned for just a moment, glancing at the assortment of men around him. Aviin caught his eyes for a second, brief, but enough time for them to do a bit of sizing up.
Not impressed, the man turned back to his drink.
Aviin didn’t, though.
Instant and abrupt recognition flashed into his mind, bringing back all the images of their little escapade through the forest.
These were no mere strangers. Trying not to act too suspicious, he quickly finished his meal, slipped a few coins beneath the plate, and headed for their room. He had already explored the rather large inn, even down into the basement while no one was around, and knew that there were several places that they could slip away without being seen.
Of course, that would raise suspicion, which might lead them to start thinking.
Something they obviously weren’t very good at.
How did they not recognize me? It didn’t quite make sense, but then, there never had been a good moment to really see one another during their short exchange of words.
And garps never did have much in the way of a brain, anyways.
They would have to make their way out the front door, and be sure to do it properly.
He had almost forgotten that he was to be a wanted man as well, so now they had double the reason to be cautious.
. For Where Home Is .
- Seventh Age, year 718
“So, if you don’t mind me asking…exactly where
are we headed?”
Aviin’s question seemed to shock her, as she suddenly stopped walking and stood still for a few moments.
“We…I…hold on for just a moment.” Spinning to face him, she looked him right in the eye and captured his attention for at least the few following moments. She had a way of doing that. “There isn’t a we in this. There never was such a thing, alright. It’s just you, and then me, and that’s how it’s always been.”
Perhaps a bit caught off guard, Aviin made no noise as he stood rooted to his spot, uncertainty showing in the way his mouth twitched a bit at the corner. Finally coming to grips with himself, though, he stepped forward and engaged.
“What you just said doesn’t make sense to me. ‘There never was a we?’ What exactly is that supposed to mean? I saved your life, didn’t I?”
“Yes, a fact that I’m grateful for.” Savill continued. “Truly, I am.”
How couldn’t you be, under those circumstances?
Aviin shifted the weight of his pack, mostly bought goods, but some of it acquired by not the most honorable means. What could they do, though? Food was a necessity, and soldiers didn’t have money.
“But you also have to understand that I’ve been taking care of myself since I was just a child. You don’t have to follow me everywhere to protect me or anything like that.” Than almost as an after thought, she added, “I don’t need protection.”
“Oh, yes, that much was clear when I found you tied to a post in the middle of that god-forsaken desert out there.”
“Look, sometimes you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Things don’t always work out for the best just because you want them too. Like I said, I’m grateful that you would do something like put yourself in danger to keep me alive, I really am. But I….”
“But what?” His head cocked to the side, ears waiting for her to finish that last thought.
Savill’s lips pulled tight as she bit down on them, mind thundering and urging her to speak what she was thinking, but it simply wouldn’t come. Her thoughts sang one song, emotions another, and it was all so muddled together to the point of being beyond a feasible solution. Throwing hands in the air and rolling her eyes, she turned and walked a few paces away from her previous position.
Running from the problem.
“Everything okay?” Came Duraan’s touch, but she shoved him away and closed any entrance that he might have into her mind.
Cracking apart and emitting a silent breath, Aviin’s own lips trembled at the edge of speaking what he truly needed to say, but they quickly shut, trapping back those unutterable words.
Neither of them could speak their minds.
But Reader, I believe that you understand very well. You see, it is a mortal condition to have these annoying little things called emotions. They’re a rambunctious breed that runs rampant through your kind, tainting even the best of you.
A select few have garnished the ability to keep control, but most find themselves at the beck and call of this virus.
And you are the host.
Sometimes good, sometimes not so pleasant, they seem to control your every action. It’s a bloody war you wage, so you should be used to the color red.
Red showed in her face as she fought back all the anger of past years, pending at the edge of her willpower.
Red showed at the corners of his eyes, telling the sad saga of so many sleepless nights.
How one could dream so much when they hardly ever shut their eyes, I never would know?
And red fluttered in the afternoon breeze, rustling through her hair and taunting them onwards.
“Why?” She finally asked, yet refusing to turn around. “Why are you still following me?”
Why? Now that would be a good answer.
His head wilted, lacking in nourishment.
“To be honest…I don’t have anywhere else to go.” The brutal truth, finally stated in a simple form. Now this I could work with. “All of my family is dead, or at least, dead to me. I never knew anyone else. I haven’t even traveled out of the Lcynien province, so I have no idea where we are, or where we’re going….” Trailing off into the distance, his voice lost its power and he simply choked out of speaking anything further.
And what was she supposed to say?
The truth?
Hardly worth saying, in the end, because it would fall on deaf ears. She began to realize the situation wasn’t as she had previously thought it. A man in his own right, but somewhere inside he had never been nurtured out of his infancy.
And now brought low before the altar of the world.
Sacrifice was never a pretty thing to watch.
At least, unless you enjoyed the sound of blood slipping over stone.
“Look, Savill, I don’t know what you want. I realize that how I reacted to the situation before was, well…childish. I just got caught up in this whole dream of what I thought it would be like. And the dreams themselves, they’re just, foolish notions.” Green clashed with blue as their eyes came to meet one another, swirling in a tempest’s form. He was still searching, still reaching out, but she simply wasn’t giving back. “It wasn’t realistic of me to assume anything, other than the fact that you needed help when you did.”
Nothing but the swaying of trees sounded around them, for a few moments.
Then she broke the silence, “You can come as far as Canthon, and then you have to find your own way.” Stalking off to find their furry friend, she remained silent as he followed quickly after her.
“Why, what’s at Canthon?” Aviin inquired. Not that he knew where, or what type of a place that was anyways.
One simple word gave him all he needed to know, though, and shut him up as well in a thoughtful stupor of remorse.
“Home.”
She said.
. First Contact .
Something surreal surrounded a world shrouded in only black.
Shadow.
Not to be confused with the dark.
When the light fades, it always comes in. Yet, no power resides in it to banish its counterpart, only the task of keeping watch while it’s away. A vanguard, at the world’s edge.
And it was here that he sat, only, it wasn’t as before.
No grassy knole to lean on.
No edge before him, beckoning forward, but constantly repelling his mind.
And certainly she would not be there.
Only the shadows.
But it was not cold, nor was it lonely. He was not alone, I can assure you that. For him, though, this was the first time he had come to this place. Years spent drifting idly along in the visions of his sleepless nights, and finally, he had come to me.
I watched, silently from the back, finding great interest in this poor soul. Something about him, something that I couldn’t quite place my finger on, was odd about this one. Not so much in the way that he acted or talked, or even the condition of his mind.
Emotion?
Whatever it was, it had brought him here, so now we could play our little game.
There was a solid enough floor to stand on, but his eyes had not yet opened to it, so he stood rooted in that one spot, refusing to budge for fear that he would tumble down. But did it matter? Shadow was above and below him, on all sides, cupping him in its embrace.
Where would he fall to?
Standing just at the edge of his vision, I allowed myself to be seen, but only enough to arouse that thing that you call curiosity. The little beast that always seems to rest on your shoulder, whispering you into staying just a bit longer, when you really ought to be running in the other direction.
“Hello?” He asked.
Oh, so pitiful it nearly brought me to tears as I laughed.
Hello?
Was this a cry for help? A pleading? Not what I had hoped for, as I expected more from such a man as this.
Different, but still the same as the rest.
And for this part, I always found a great deal of enjoyment from playing
with their poor little consciences like some child’s toy. Unrecognizable noises, a shifting of the shapes beneath the shadows. All combined to create the perfect environment for one of my favorite scenes.
“What are you seeking?”
His expression changed from a look of confusion, to one that spoke of a deep contemplation mingling against the walls of his mind. Why was he here? To be honest, I didn’t hold the answer to that question. How could I? But one thing was for certain; I never would know, because even he himself could not proffer a reasonable explanation.
He simply was, and that was reason enough, after all.
Stepping from darkness into a conjured well of light bearing down from above, I gave him his first glimpse of the specter that was haunting his presence. Features lengthening and eyebrows pulled high and tight, I could sense that his shock was not one of horror, or fear, but rather a disbelief that what was standing before him was in fact the truth.
Yes, my dearest Reader, I would have been shocked as well, had I been on the receiving end of that twisted throw.
“Do you like what you see?”
The man’s response was silent, but the noise a heavy burden. And here we have reached the apex of what I would call my own saga.
Adonai.
Humans.
You all have this strange trait of insecurity and uncertainty. Having met a challenge or an instance that is not so easily overcome by your feeble imaginations, you sink into the abyssal cleft of a neutral stance.
You do nothing, in short.
Worlds have crumbled and rusted away as your people sat by and watched, too afraid, too embarrassed to do anything. Helpless against your own will.
This is your legacy…and he was no different.
Oh, we had met before, and it was for this reason that he removed into a stunned silence, unable to utter a single word. Even his thoughts I sensed as being stalled in mid-flight, searching for that bit of recognition that comes when you’ve met another that claims to know you, but you can’t seem to place who they were.
And yet, you do remember.
But I was not altogether that frightening of an image. In fact, I would consider myself a rare feature indeed, one that many would dream of had I been privileged to live a life as sheltered and preceded by ignorance as yourself. My desire was not for this, though.
I only wanted to have a little fun.
“What do you want with me?”
Finally, he had opened his mouth that seemed to always be in a constant motion, yet only seconds previous couldn’t muster enough strength to even breathe a little.
Drawing close to him and rising a little off the floor, I looked past him and off into the distance.
At nothing in particular, of course.
“Oh, it is not what I want that’s of concern. It’s what I need.”
He was thinking again, a bit frightening as anything was liable to happen in that clockwork machine of his. We all know what he was going to ask next, so I cut to the chase and gave it to him before wasting further time. “The world isn’t run by any one person, you see. There’s a whole lot going on behind the lines…while you’re asleep….”
A pause, for dramatic affect.
“That’s why you’ve come here.”
Yes, his juvenile eyes reflected a mirror image of what I would have seen staring back through them. They looked at me, and nothing went through them.
Was he truly this blind? I almost couldn’t fathom that one such as he, trained and raised to be a commander of thousands, would be this way.
Then again, he hadn’t exactly lived up to that potential.
It did not matter much, though, because this was not the last time that we two would gather in this place.
His day would come.
For now, he would wake into a reality of what once was, and forget our little encounter. At least, until the next time.
. Slaying Beasts .
- Seventh Age, year 718
Flashing leaves.
Grass shaking before him as his feet pounded the earth.
“Head it off! Head it off!” He cried, watching as Duraan’s lanky form powered through the tree line to his left. Ahead he kept careful watch on the fat little animal galloping away from him. Who would have thought it could run so fast, especially on those tiny legs?
Blirre-tin were odd creatures, to say the least.
Aviin licked his lips and began to salivate.
But they sure did make for a good roast.
“Well don’t scare it towards the lake, by Yvre’s ear. I’ll never catch it that way.”
“Yah yah, just run faster….”
Laughing, partly in frustration at the pain in his legs, he carefully nocked an arrow, being sure to watch the ground directly in front of him for any random obstacles. As much fun as tripping over an exposed root or a boulder would be, he didn’t really fancy missing out on a good dinner.
It had been Duraan’s idea from the beginning, probably because he had spent so many years chasing down tiny forest animals like Chiddits and Rone. Aviin didn’t blame him, though, and if the silly cat just kept running, then they’d all be enjoying the fruits of the labors that night.
If, being the important word.
But already he could see that the four-legged beast was itching to make a break through the small clearing of trees. Turning slightly to the south, he would force it to bank on that option.
Moments later, the happy beast slowed its pace a bit as it watched it’s predator suddenly stop pursuit and stand still.
Alive, for another day.
Then suddenly a roaring and sharp claws aimed at its face came ripping through the air, slashing about and catching it on the flank. Kicking and bleating in fright, it spun, blinded by fear and seeking only an escape from this new terror.
Two bounds, a high leap to clear a fallen tree…and slammed to the ground with a force which denied its strength.
Sprouting from its chest rested a feathered stick, pinning it to the ground. There was only a few struggles left in its legs, kicking at the ground and churning it like butter, but a moment or two later the bloody froth dribbled from its mouth, iced cold by a final breath.
“Yah! Did you see that shot?” Fist pumping the air, Aviin ran towards the kill, perhaps a bit over-excited about his feat. Duraan was already there, licking at the blood.
Blood….
It stained red into the ground again, steam rising as it contacted the relatively cool spring air.
There was that pungent scent that always followed it, stinging at his nostrils and reminding him of all things past, the visage that haunted his nightmares.
A single man, calling his name….
“Are you alright?” Duraan asked, looking up at him.
Aviin’s skin felt cold, and wet to the touch.
“I’m fine.” He said aloud, holding onto his stomach.
“Well, you look like a ghost that just saw its own grave. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Regaining composure and sucking down the bit of bile that had been slowly working its way up past his stomach, he bit down and returned bow and arrow to the quiver.
“Let’s just get this wrapped up so we can go back to camp, before something else with bigger teeth than yours comes along and wants to eat it too.”
“Is that supposed to be a ‘little tooth’ joke?” The cat asked, looking up from sniffing at their next meal and twitching his ears.
“What…?”
He hadn’t even thought of that, but it seemed appropriately inappropriate to make such an archaic joke as that. It would have been funny, but, he wasn’t the witty type anyways. Besides, no one said that anymore.
“Yes they do.” Slapping a twig with his tail, Duraan retorted the comment and sought to educate his naïve friend. “It has become a very common term amongst the younger generations in the major cities, and even finds its way into song and tale at the academies for music.”
Right, something he woul
d know nothing of.
“You should really get to know your history a little better.”
“Hey, it’s not like I was ever given the chance, okay. My father did a pretty good job of keeping me locked away from the world.”
“That’s the truth….”
Aviin shot his comrade a tempered look that shut his mind up for a few moments. Then he laughed. The silly cat never could seem to be quiet, whether it was rustling through the bushes chasing after some rodent, or constantly barraging them with all sorts of random and curious concepts that seemed to dodge the filters of his brain.
Savill had refused to come with them. Duraan explained that she didn’t enjoy killing live things, but Aviin gathered that she wasn’t very keen on the idea of being around him any longer than she had too.
“So what do you think made Savill…let me come with you to Canthon?”
There were a few ideas of his own milling around up there, but as of late he didn’t seem to be so good at the guessing part of life. That, or he just didn’t understand her at all, which to him made little sense. They’d talked enough in his dreams, enough to give him at the least a clue into what her life must have been like, but every time he approached her with a question, whether it be about family or reasons for her traveling alone, she brushed him off and avoided the subject for the rest of the day.
He’d almost resigned himself to never gaining answers to those questions.
“Who knows what she thinks. She shields herself from me all the time, and even if I wanted to break into her thoughts, I don’t think I could.”
“I just wish I could understand her a little more….”
The cat peered up with its beady eyes. “No, I’m not so sure you would want that.”
In any case, they had a task ahead of them. With Duraan still sniffing at the dead animal, Aviin began the work of prepping it for the short trip back to their camp.
He’d done this many times before, as a means of procuring food for the other men, but now…it was different….
. Knowledge is a thing Hard Gained .
- Seventh Age, year 718
“It’s not like you think it is.” Licking at his paw, Duraan idly explained the situation a little more clearly to his friend. “She’s been like this since she was a child, long before I knew her.”
“Wait, so is that why she wanders through the wilds?”
“Precisely. She’d stay, if she could.” And as an after thought, he added, “At least, she would have, but I don’t know anymore, a lot of things have changed over the last few years.”
“How long have you known her?”
“Oh, it’s been ten or so years now. Who knows? Neither of us pay much attention to time or things like that. It’s just…irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant? Are you being serious? Times is everything, because there’s only a limited amount of it. My father….” Words seemed to choke back in his throat, refusing to let themselves out. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to say them, but they brought back so many painful memories, things he didn’t really want to remember. “My father always taught me that every moment is the moment that your fate hangs in the balance. It doesn’t matter what you did before, or what you have planned for the future, if you miss it now, in this moment, then you die.”
“Well, not everyone’s life works that way. Sometimes it’s good to just waste a few moments doing absolutely nothing. You’re not going to die just because you sat down and watched the world go by for a bit.”
“No, of course not.” Aviin shook his head and sighed. “That’s not how I meant it.”
“I know.”
There was that dorky smile of his again, a thing which always helped to lighten the mood. If you weren’t laughing with him, then you surely would be at him.
“You sure seem to know a lot of things.” Came Aviin’s remark to his friend’s sassy comment. Then, in a more serious tone and with a real desire to understand a little more, he asked, “How did you end up learning all that you did? I mean, it’s not everyday that an…”
Reluctant to say the word that had come to mind.
But Duraan was following him the whole way. “An animal? No, I agree. In fact, I’ve never seen anything like me before.”
“Okay, so if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you?”
The question sounded so hard on his ears, tinged with ice, but Duraan’s disposition wasn’t one that was quick to anger, thankfully, and he took everything in stride, even as short as they were.
“That’s a tale, I’m afraid,” he began, “that isn’t one of my favorites to tell.”
“Oh, I’m sorry if I-.”
“No, it’s nothing to do with you. They’re just not some things I like to remember.”
“You don’t have to tell me, then, if it’s like that.”
“But you want to know.”
A statement of fact. Yes, he’d played these games with humans before. Aviin nodded, to prove his point.
Didn’t they all? To know, that is….
. Rorith Exposed .
- Seventh Age, year 718
Clouds draped from the skies, dancing on strings of rain and darkening the atmosphere.
Hanging heavy around them.
Aviin was busy collecting firewood, something they’d neglected to do. He’d rather go chasing animals through the wood anyways, like some blood crazed Targ.
Truth be told, she could have done something while they were out, but there were things to be taken care of, problems to be solved. An internal struggle waged battle against the fields of here mind, tugging at the chains that bound her heart.
Two things; first, Aviin was not what she had expected.
And secondly, Rorith was calling out to her. She’d mentioned the fact to Duraan, who told her to stay away as the last time they’d gone on one of his adventures, they both nearly ended up dead, and she had found herself taken captive by a bunch of desert half-breeds that didn’t dare lay a finger on her.
It hadn’t been that long ago, either.
Needless to say, Duraan was urging her to stay away from such matters, but there was something about it that she simply couldn’t push aside. A little ticking at the conscience, with no end in the foreseeable future. Like being trapped in the darkest parts of the rifts, only, this time it was of her own choice and will.
She needed to help him.
He was dying.
That was the part that she’d kept hidden from Duraan, but only because it was such a terrible thing to consider. The great tree’s leaves were already paling and slipping from the end of his fingered grasp. Each one a little piece of history, falling away, crumbling into the abyss that was the rising dark.
Tendrils of shadow, consuming the light and writhing-as if alive-raked at the trunk, slowly climbing its height and searching for the core of all that was life and good.
There was a great need for action. But she didn’t know how, or when.
Or even what to do….
“Don’t look now, but your lover boy is coming back.” Duraan joked, kicking a padded foot at her.
“What? Would you stop talking like that? He’s not in love with me, and I most certainly am not in love with him!”
Emitting a few purred laughs, he urged her closer to the edge of releasing her anger. A little, game of his. “Hmm, that’s what they always say, to cover up. So, the fact that you made such a fuss about it only goes to prove….”
“Just shut your furry little mind and go to sleep or something, since you’re so good at that.”
“At least I sleep….”
Yes, he was right about that one thing. She wasn’t prone to getting much shut eye herself, not since he had come along.
Savill hated that she was forced to close her thoughts off to him. She hated that she was forced to even be a part of his company, to cook their meager food, and let him eat it.
She hated that he walked like a board, stiff and rigid, just like a soldier.
Ripping from that vision, she fumbled with her shoes, tugging at the laces in a useless ruse to get away. “Just…go find yourself a hole and sleep in it, okay.”
“Fine, I’ll just wander out in the rain all by myself and find a nice deep pit and see if I can’t get stuck in the mud….” He growled back, pushing away her presence and building a stone wall around his own mind, confused at the unexpected hostilities.
“Yah, you do that….” Savill’s voice died as she found herself watching him again, this time allowing his image to penetrate another layer or two of her defenses. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. From the beginning, it was all wrong. She’d imagined someone more like her father, more like a real Adonai, and not some freak that wore the Emperor’s crest. Even now, she could picture that emblem, plastered on his tunic like a great stain to the world, hidden only by a thin coat.
It was all that kept her from reaching towards him now, to answer his desperate cries at night, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to descend to such a low position.
“Duraan, we have to talk about Rorith. It’s getting worse, and, I’ve been seeing those ghosts again, in the rifts.”
“You know you shouldn’t be going there as much as you are. Savill, you’re letting it get a stronger hold over you. I can sense it, and I know you can.” He’d been warning her for sometime, as the instance at the outpost had nearly sent her too far. There was no telling if she would be able to make it back, were she to break through that final wall. It hung like glass, barring her way, but not her curiosity. Leading deeper.
The abyss called to her, because it offered so much of what she sought.
“I understand that, but it’s the only way to gather information, and that’s something we desperately need.”
“No, what we need is more help. We should just go-.”
“No! I know what you’re going to suggest, and we won’t do that. He’s a self-righteous bigot and I won’t work with him again.” She fired back, closing out any thought of returning to grovel at Kynder’s feet. He may be the best magic wielder in the realm, but all of his dark secrets were enough to scare away just about anything.
And his disposition?
Lacking, was the only word that came to mind. Lacking in any sociable formalities or even the slightest bit of kindness.
“You don’t like him, I get that, but if things escalate anymore, then we have little choice. Just, don’t throw it from your mind.”
He was right on one account, they wouldn’t be able to manage if things grew worse. For the time being, it was under control, at least, the darkness that seemed to pervade the world was held at bay. But there was no telling how long that would last.
It was getting to her, stabbing at into her mind and clawing at her inner presence, just like Rorith, only, the tree was much stronger than she was.
Already she could sense it pressing at her eyes, and when she did enter the rifts, there was always a few moments of seeing through an altered vision to greet her. Strange things appeared before her in those meager seconds, only to vanish as the light once again resurfaced and chased away any threatening or hostile enemy.
This was her life, and she didn’t know anything else.
. Rifter .
- Seventh Age, year 689
Hearty.
Rich.
Tendrils of smoke filtered between the sticks that served as bars, slipping against the wetted nose of a young animal, igniting its senses, but mostly just its appetite. Little food had been spared lately to fill its belly, and the same went for the rest of the menagerie of creatures scattered around the large room, all locked away in wooden cages.
All captives to a ruthless and very inhospitable host.
Some would leave today, and it was doubtless that others would come to find room and board here.
Piled amongst the junk, there was one poor Rhond-Kyire, curled up in it’s uncomfortable home, with all of its fur sticking out from between the sticks, barely able to fit in such a tiny space.
These were the ones that had it the hardest.
But he, on the other hand, was treated differently, for some unknown reason.
His cage was larger than the rest.
His portions of food seemed to be much more fulfilling.
Why? He couldn’t say, but one thing was for sure, they all were saying that he would leave soon. Whenever those funny looking creatures with their bare skin exposed to the elements and without protection, their flat teeth and beady eyes came in to poke at a specific animal, chattering away in their strange sounds, the animal was sure to disappear within a day or two.
It was as if they were being…chosen. But for what was the real question that they all were asking?
Unfortunately, there was no way to tell, and no one ever returned.
Scrunching at the back of the cage, he watched as their host entered the room, fumbling through a pile of junk and finally grasping onto a strange object.
And that was another thing that made these creatures so odd; they loved to collect junk. Bits and pieces of stone and metal, of no value or use. What they should be doing was to stockpile meat, and give some of it to him.
That was what his mother and father taught them to do, during the warmer months in preparation to weather the winter away. But that was before they had come for him. They took the rest of the pack as well, but none of them went together.
Grey and spotted fur stood on end while the creature rose to look in at him, poking a finger through the bars and wiggling it in the air, taunting him. But he’d learned quickly, as any attempt to harm them always resulted in a quick and decisive blow that brought heavy punishment. The pain was one thing, but attempting to survive with no water and no food for an extended period of time was definitely not the most enjoyable thing to do.
No, it was only for them to wait.
And wait he had, and wait he would.
For as long as it took.
And the days crept by slowly as they laid there, a constant droning of noise, a mixture of grunts and howls. Anything too loud, and the host was sure to appear, threatening with his fist and shaking at the cages.
A tyrant who ruled on fear alone.
But there was a time when things changed, the day that he brought in a box, shutting and bolting the door behind him. His eyes seemed to glow with an intense, and altogether different fire about them, dancing in the dark.
Fingers trembling, voice emitting a barely audible scratching of curious joy, he lifted the lid, light streaming instantly from the cracks and penetrating into the small, dim room. Animals jumped back in their cages, as far as the could go, squealing as the brightness only intensified with each continued pulling to make the opening larger. Eventually, it stood completely exposed.
A thin, pointed shape with straight and sharp edges, resting in a small pedestal and pulsing with an intense energy.
He shielded his eyes as he looked on.
Then came a knock at the door, and he slammed it shut, pushing it into the corner and covering it with a random selection of junk.
It was like that almost every day now. He would come in, only to stare hungrily at the odd object. Even this had captured the attention of our furry little friend, who watched intently.
But nothing ever happened, at least, until the day when they came to kill.
They could all hear the noise long before the door was kicked open and three or four of those white creatures came stomping in, thick metallic plates draped over their bodies and all carrying these sinister looking teeth that glinted in the pale light.
Some of the other animals growled, but within moments they were stuck through, gargling on their own frothy blood only to fall silent a second or two later. The entire room erupted in noise as the fresh scent of blood filled its every expanse, tickling their sense and rousing them into an obnoxious fury.
More died, then.
Others came through the door, only they weren’t as the first. No black and white, only dark tans wrapped around their heads and faces.
They screamed.
They gnashed those terrible teeth, stabbing into one another like the beasts they were.
One located the strange chest and dragged it into the center of the room, quickly flipping it open, then falling back as the brightness exploded out.
More commotion. And more of the host’s creatures entered in. There was a battle being waged as they threw each other around, knocking open the cages and setting so many of the animals free.
He hung there, swinging back and forth, standing on edge and prepared for anything to happen.
One of the Rhond-Kyhire, the big one, had latched onto the white creature’s foot and tore at it, knocking him to the ground as the others quickly descended to spread his blood on the earthen floor.
Another flailed high and hard to avoid being sliced open, knocking his own tooth at the ceiling. It clinked off of wood and stone, then effortlessly slipped through the cord which kept our little creature suspended.
The cage fell, bouncing had against the others.
Cracking happened in the wood, splitting it open and spilling the contents out.
He tumbled, not very far, but for what seemed a long time.
Right towards the chest.
Right towards the light.
It flashed, as did the pain as something stabbed straight through his back leg.
“Then everything faded into darkness.”
There was silence for a few moments, as Aviin took in the story and was amazed at how intense it had been. How much it had got his blood pumping again.
“So, it stabbed you? I mean, the crystal, or whatever you want to call it….”
Duraan winced at the memory, still feeling the scar tissue on his left leg, tighter than the surrounding skin. “Yes, that’s exactly what happened.”
“And I’m guessing that the crystal has some connection to why you can talk and understand our language and such.”
“Oh, in a way I suppose it does, but I learned to speak and understand, and even to read, only after a lot of dedicated and hard work. No, the crystal only gave me the ability to think. You see, that’s the only thing that separates you from the rest of the animals in the world. All they know is their next meal. But you, you can find a better way. You can ponder on the meaning of things. You can build and create.” He looked at the ground, eyes dancing with the glow of the flames. “You can progress, and that’s something that wasn’t given to the rest of us poor creatures.”
“But you can think now, obviously.”
“Yes, of course. That’s what the crystal did, it gave me the ability to be like you, to have the same abilities and powers as an Adonai. I just don’t have the hands.”
Aviin smiled and reveled in the moment, thinking of what it must have been like to be an ignorant and powerless beast, then to suddenly be thrown into the world of his own kind. Then, a very important, and interesting thought came to his mind, “Duraan, does this have anything to do with Savill, and why she is the way she is?”
“You mean, her disposition of being angry all the time?”
“Yes, I mean…no. She has so called powers, just like you. Did something similar happen to her?”
He felt his friend sigh, rather than heard it as the night sounds drowned out anything else. It was strange how the silence could be so deafening. Aviin shifted his weight to lean against his pack.
“I’ve only ever met two others that have experienced what I went through, and Savill is one of them. But her story is different, she was stabbed on purpose, rather than an accident.”
“Stabbed? You mean, someone assaulted her and attempted to kill her with one of the crystals? How many of these things are there?”
All great questions, but most of them without answers.
“She was too young to remember the details, but I could sense how vivid the memory of her being attacked was. You have to draw blood with the crystal before it takes effect, so somebody really wanted to infect her with its powers.”
“Okay, now I’m thoroughly confused.”
“As am I. Aviin, there are a lot of things in this world that don’t make any sense at all. I’ve spent so many years trying to unravel every secret I can, and each time it simply branches off into another mysterious realm. There’s simply no way to understand it all.”
“But why did it affect her differently than you?”
“That, I don’t actually know. But in all three cases it wasn’t the same. I wouldn’t doubt that it’s the same for all of the rest.”
Aviin’s head bobbed up and down in a slow motion, then his eyes shot open. “Wait, the rest? You mean, there are others?”
“Yes, of course. It’s a big world out there, and it wouldn’t make much sense that there were three and only three instances. It simply wouldn’t make sense.”
He supposed that Duraan was correct in assuming that. But how many more? And what were they like? A thousand different paths to take branched off of that one concept, leading him down a dozen different roads and clouding up his ability to make sense of it all. “I’m still confused about what these crystals are, exactly….”
“So are we. Something left behind by the ancients, it would seem.”
“Like the Rydicc Stone?”
“Yes, only, these seem to be much more of a secret. Unless you’ve come into contact with one, you probably don’t know that they even exist, let alone are the cause of some strange happenings.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask this, but, what exactly are her powers? I mean, she can survive in a coma for nearly a week; she can summon energy from the air….”
“To be honest, not even I know the full extent of what she’s capable of. The effect that the crystal had on here was, well, perfect. Which is-.”
“Perfect? You say that like it’s a good thing that she was transformed….”
“No, I mean perfect in the sense that it gave her an ability that is so much more than just some rare power. In as best of terms as I can explain it, Savill can travel through the rifts.”
“Rifts?”
“Yes, that’s what we’ve been calling them. Essentially they’re the different planes of existence, and she has free access to them.” He looked at the ground, thinking hard. That last little bit wasn’t exactly true. “At least, she can come and go, but, there is a price to be paid….”
And a heavy one at that.
“You’ve lost me…..” Aviin exhaled, shaking his head at the cat’s utter disregard for the ignorance of others.
“Okay, picture the world like a cake, because everyone knows what cake is, right?”
“Yes, of course I know what cake is. I was sheltered from the world, but not kept stupid.”
“Good. Now, a cake is usually baked in layers, and each of those layers is a different plane. The one where we live is somewhere in the middle. We’re constantly surrounded by the others, but they don’t actually exist with us, just by us. You following?”
“Just keep explaining, I’ll catch on.”
Eyes rolled as the animal rued the day that he had been made to think like them.
To think better than them.
“All things that were ever created exist on those planes, but each in it’s own right and method. Some things branch between several, like light, for instance. It would seem that anything that emits light also penetrates into several of the other planes. But other things, like a rock, might only exist here, on this plane.”
“And Savill can travel to the other planes?”
“Yes, in a manner of speaking. She can travel through the rifts that separate them, and has been learning how to gain access to the others.”
“Wow, this goes a lot farther than I thought it would.”
“Aviin, that’s only the beginning. There’s so much I can tell you, so much to learn. The
re’s more than just this world out there to explore.”
“Well, we should probably start with this one, being that I haven’t even been outside of the Empire yet.”
But there wasn’t any doubt in either of their minds that he would go on asking questions. It seemed to be his most viable talent.