Post by I can haz lumberjack on Dec 29, 2008 23:08:47 GMT -6
It was raining heavily that night.
Thunder rumbled loudly, rattling all of the glass in the local tavern near the edge of Siphur. Siphur was normally a quaint little town, with a bustling market, honest people and fresh goods. However, tonight was different. There was a man approaching the town. He wore a long, tattered black cloak, a black hat that covered his steel-grey eyes, a black leather vest and black leather pants, with black leather gloves and black leather boots. His footsteps fell heavily in the muddy dirt road that cut through the town, but no one could hear them over the sound of the rain falling like lead throughout the town. He sat there, staring at the bleak town, all the lights out, everyone sleeping peacefully. He frowned.
Suddenly, a shadow on the ground started flowing towards him. It moved on its own accord, going this way and that, then stopped just at the man’s feet. He looked down and stared at it. He then said, “It’s about time you got here, Zeth. You’re late.”
The shadow suddenly began to rise out of the ground, taking a humanoid form. Ten seconds later what was once a puddle of shadow on the ground was the approximate size of a young child, staring up at this strange man with its beady little eyes.
“Sorry, master, I was troubled.”
“Troubled?” the man asked. He had a deep voice; a cold, relentless voice that could make grown men collapse into madness.
“Yes, master, I had to wait behind a tree for several hours. Some mundanes were nearby, and I was forced to wait where I was until they left.”
“Ah. I see.” The man thought about this for a moment or two. “You do realize, Zeth, that this is your third warning this week…?”
“Yes, master, I am deeply sorry, but it was beyond my control.”
“By this time, I would have killed any other henchmen, and have done so before.”
“I know, master.”
“I only put up with you because your father was the best I ever had, and the only Shadowling I had ever had that died honorably.”
“Yes, master.”
“But…”
“Heeeeek!” Zeth squealed. The man had just placed his hand right up to Zeth’s throat. The man’s hand was glowing.
“I have petrified many Shadowlings before you, and would not hesitate to add you to my collection, Zeth…”
Zeth swallowed. “Y-yes, master…I will try harder, master…I promise.”
“You had better live up to your promise, Zeth, or else…you know the consequences of failure. And this plan is far too important to fail. The Lord will not be pleased if this plan fails…”
“Yes, master Frincel. I will not forget it.”
“Now then,” said Frincel, “To business. It is time to put the Lord’s plan to action. Stay back.”
Suddenly, Frincel noticed a lone figure charging relentlessly away from the town. Zeth saw it too. “Shall I go after him, master…?” His eyes began to glint with malice.
“No. He is not important. Even if he was, I would probably ask Asnur or Frusnik. They are far more trustworthy…no, we shall just do what was planned, not go after useless people.”
Moments later, Frincel was walking away, silhouetted against the horizon by the blazing village. He could hear the screams of terror, the whispers of final prayers. Frincel smiled to himself.
“And so it begins,” he said quietly.
A young man staggered through the heavy squall. It had been a long time since he’d seen the weather this bad, but nonetheless he soldiered on. He had to. All his training would be in vain if he didn’t. He was determined to, and that meant that no matter what happened, he would make it.
He tripped over a small outcropping of rock, landing on the side he was currently holding. He howled with pain, his cries being lost into the wind howling over him. Gritting his teeth and fighting tears, he stood up again, staggering from pain and wind. He looked around, picked a direction and began to hobble in it, hoping he would find something soon.
***
“Man, I’m so bored!” Crystal cried out, shaking her head in her hands.
“You’re always bored, Crystal…” Aria sounded sad, almost depressed, as the words dribbled out of her mouth.
Crystal turned around. “Aria, are you still depressed about that?”
“Maybe…” was the sullen reply.
“Look,” Crystal started. She was really getting to hate this speech-giving. This made…ugh, she’d lost count. She sighed heavily and soldiered on. “Look, you can’t keep sulking about…about what happened. You’ve got to move on.”
“You mean like that guy out there?”
“What guy?”
“Just that guy out there…you see him?”
“Yeah, but it’s kinda hard through the-” Crystal lost her sentence.
Aria realized it too. There was a person stumbling around outside! Didn’t he know it was raining? Was he a lost traveler? This wasn’t the time to worry about it. They both bolted out into the hallway from their room, the door slamming and bringing others out into the hallway, some half asleep.
“What’s wrong…?”
“Aria, did you…?”
“Crystal, can’t you keep her calm?”
“No time to explain!” Crystal said, her voice balancing between a motherly worry and a stern order. “Someone’s stumbling around outside!”
***
The young man staggered through flooded streets, seeing lights around him. He cringed from the pain; the dark stain that now covered his hand despite the rain was creeping up his arm. He looked around desperately. Was that…a door? He couldn’t tell. He was in such pain his vision was blurring…or was that the rain? It didn’t matter – he needed to get out of the storm. He stumbled towards the shaft of light, cut off by the storm and its enveloping darkness.
***
Aria and Crystal were heading the pack towards the doors. Their numbers had grown, and they were either following the rumor, now getting twisted by word of mouth and falsely heard words, but nonetheless they drew attention. However, it was in the foyer that they were all stopped dead.
A young man had walked in.
He seemed young, though his pale gray skin wouldn’t have said that. He was dripping wet, and he wore a cloak with a hood that shrouded his face; underneath, a cape, the bottom edge torn to shreds, and some other garments indiscernible from the shroud of his cloak. He threw the cloak aside, as though in a daze, and began to stumble forward. All eyes were on him as he steadily began to shuffle forward, possibly even unaware of what was in front of him. Aria audibly gasped as she saw his side, stained a deep red that was dripping everywhere, as water through a sieve. Some girls began weeping silently at the sight; how could he have made it anywhere in such a state?
Finally, the young man could bear it no more. He screamed, he screamed as though he had never felt pain and suddenly broken every bone in his body. As he screamed, he fell forward; to him, it seemed an eternity. As his cheek hit the cool, hard surface of the floor, everything went black.
***
It certainly wasn’t pleasant. He felt as though he were falling, through an infinite hole, infinitely black, with no sense of anything. It was as though his mind was torturing him, strange sensations all over his body; occasionally a sharp pain, and he winced every time it was pain. Then…a picture. A moving picture. A fuzzy moving picture? He peered closer…and the picture enveloped him…
He was home.
It was his home, his home from so long ago. He looked up and saw his mother, towering over him, screaming silent words at him. He saw her mouthing “coward” and “pathetic” and “useless” and “braindead” at him. He shuddered in fear, and she raised her hand…but she was holding something…it glinted up to it’s point, which she brought down, and…
The picture changed around him.
Now he was facing his father, who was facing his mother. His father…that great mountain of a man, who could be tamed by no one, especially with too much mead…he jumped between the two, trying to shield his mother, despite her attempts to sweep him out of the way…then he felt two blows, one to the top of his head from the front, and one to the side from behind…
The picture changed again. He winced at a particularly sharp jab of pain, again from nowhere.
Now he was running across the field. He wasn’t sure why, but he was angry. He felt his bag bouncing against his back, heard the voices ringing after him…but he kept charging forward.
FLASH.
He turned around and saw his home, his village, all ablaze, despite the heavy rain. It was as though Hell itself had spat on the miserable spot of land, as he’d wished it would for so many years…but tears came to his eyes nonetheless, and he hid himself.
The picture changed again, swirling into incomprehensibility and back again.
It was morning. The storm had subsided, and he was wandering through the remains of his village. This part was far more vivid than the rest of it, but he couldn’t tell why. He turned the corner, to where his house was, unsure of what to expect...
But it was the same as all the others. Even the stone parts were charred completely, a thin layer of the stone itself so black it crumbled off to the touch. He cautiously went inside…and gagged. His parents, oh God, his parents…as much as he had hated them…
He fell to his knees, and vomited at the sight. When he finished, he stood up and bolted. He ran as though he knew nothing of exhaustion, until he finally collapsed as the sun was setting, and he closed his eyes…when it started to rain again. Why did it start to rain? Was something missing from the story his mind was telling? As it did, he felt the wind pick up so quickly it shocked him. Suddenly, a massive gray something came towards him…and picked him up…and he saw massive beams of wood flying around…and as one of the pieces splintered midair, one of the larger splinters shaved its way down his side.
He howled at the force of nature that was carrying him. He howled in pain as hot tears of agony rolled down his cheeks. As he did, he felt himself get hurled, hurled very far…and he landed on his back.
But his back wasn’t that hurt…it was…
SNAP.
The young man bolted upright, screaming again in agony. Why was he on his back? Hadn’t he fallen face-first? And why were there so many people around him? He looked around, panicked by the sudden change in scenery from before, and in a flash had scooted back against the wall, still clutching his side.
“Who…who are…what am I…nnnnngggggghhhhhhhhh…What’s going on here? What are you all doing?” his questions sounded frantic, as though he had expected something completely different.
He saw one of the girls start approaching him, cautiously. He held out a hand, trying to scoot back farther, as though he could go through the wall. “Stay…stay back!” he yelped. “Don’t make me…”
“What?” she asked, in a soothing voice. The young man stopped what he was trying to do, seemingly mesmerized by the soothing tones of the voice. “Don’t make you what?” She asked again.
“I…I…I-I-abuhhh…?” the young man babbled quietly before clenching his teeth in pain again. When it had subsided, he looked up through his eyes, squinting shut on him through the pain. “Who…who are you people?” He demanded, even if quietly. “What am I doing here, and what are you trying to do to me?” He winced again.
The girl that had approached him suddenly had a strange look on her face – a mix of shock and realization. “You’re at the Elemantria academy,” she said soothingly. “You’re wounded; let us take care of yo-”
“No.”
The young man started to stand up again, and several girls gasped. He heard whispers, as clearly as if they were speaking directly to him.
“Is he crazy?”
“In his condition, he shouldn’t be moving at all!”
“What’s he planning to do to her?”
“I’m not pla-nnnrrrggghhh…I’m not planning anything,” he said to the crowd. There were more gasps, and more whispered comments and gossip. By the Overlords, how he hated that sort of thing. He raised his hands to his injured side and muttered, “Vox of Lux lucis , suffragium meus jurgium. Vigoratus!”
His hands began glowing white, the light getting brighter and brighter until it flashed like lightning; he smirked to himself as he heard shrieks from the girls that had gathered. As the light dimmed, he looked down at his side.
It was still bleeding, even if not as much.
“By the Overlords…” he whispered. He had run out of options, and energy. He collapsed at long last, finally succumbing to the pain and fatigue that had plagued him that night.
There were voices. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, or anything about their gender, levels of concern or how badly they might or might not want to kill him. He tried to groan, but he couldn’t find the strength to even make a single sound. He felt as though the sheets that covered him were really long, thin, semi-see-through boulders, pulling him towards the ground that was unnaturally soft; so much so, in fact, that he felt he was sinking about a third of a meter into it, whatever it was. What was going on beyond his sheets? There was an awful lot of noise…by the Overlords, it sounded as though someone were getting ready to kill someone else…but he still couldn’t quite hear what was being said.
***
“I don’t care what the circumstances are, we are not keeping…one of his kind in this academy, under any circumstances!” Broana screamed.
“And I don’t care what your reasons are, he is here healing and there is nothing we can do about that until he wakes up.” Lercer said firmly.
“You…you…” Broana tried to speak, but she was shaking with rage and the finger she had aimed in the master healer’s direction proved it.
Lercer smirked at her. “I what? Make sense, compared to you? Or have you just rid yourself of the remedy I gave you for your anger problems again?”
Broana released a frustrated scream before storming out the door. Lercer chuckled to himself. Well, that takes care of that one, he thought to himself. But what about our honored guest? He thought inquisitively as he turned to the still body of a young man, tucked safely underneath several layers of sheets and a large, patchwork quilt for extra warmth. Lercer frowned as his thoughts delved into deep awe, admiration and curiosity once more; his thoughts had done this a lot for the past ten days. There were three main questions buzzing in his head; firstly, what was this young man doing out in that terrible storm? Second, how had he received that massive injury that they could only stitch up with a needle and thread? And finally, most likely the most important question of them all: why wasn’t he dead? He had been in conditions that would have killed men without any proper wards or magical protection for who knew how long. He technically shouldn’t be alive…yet here he was, his breathing steady as a rock. Though something was different today; as Lercer leaned in closer, he realized what it was; the young man was mumbling nonsense under his breath…trying to speak? Lercer put a hand over the young man’s sweat-drenched forehead, and frowned. He still had a cold sweat, but no fever. It was very troubling for a man of healing like Lercer; nothing was adding up. He should have been dead, yet here he was, breathing steadily. He had a simple flesh wound, yet magic wouldn’t heal it; they had to stitch it shut with a needle and thread. He was drenched in a cold sweat, but he had no fever…Lercer rubbed his bare chin.
There were questions to be asked when the young man woke up…if he ever did wake up, that is.
***
“What’s going on? Where am I?” the young man kept trying to ask. Unfortunately, he could barely understand himself. At best, he heard himself whisper something that vaguely resembled the message he wanted to speak.
This is troublesome, he thought to himself. Thank the Overlords his mind was still in working order. I can’t communicate through my body about my condition, or ask my questions. I can sense a dark energy at the wound on my side, but they must have managed to stop the bleeding. I guess my physical body is too worn out…which leaves me one option.
He concentrated, and almost immediately felt the flow of arcane energy rush up to his face, making it feel hot. He concentrated further, and the energy flowed into his eyes…and he was able to open them, but only for a few seconds. He took in his surroundings for a brief moment, and located a man in the room with him – not much older than he, perhaps – before letting them close again.
Excellent, he thought with a mental smirk. That will make this actually work for a change.
***
Lercer was writing in his healer’s log; he knew not many healers kept one these days, but he figured it was an easy way to learn. He recorded what patients came to him with, how he treated their condition and, if need be, what worked and what didn’t, followed by the outcome of the treatment. He was writing about his only major patient for the last ten days; the young man in the bed in the corner.
Healer’s log, day 10
Patient: unknown
Desc.: Patient is still breathing steadily, Cold sweat began on day 3; no change in symptom. Still profuse sweating, yet no fever to be cooling. Patient could be sweating something out of his system, but to take so long to sweat out an illness is dangerous to the patient’s health. I have kept up daily treatments to keep the patient hydrated and, overall, alive. When he was first brought in, I detected a dark aura around the wound in his side. Perhaps that is blocking attempts at white magic; I tested this theory, but even our most skilled mages were unable to remove this aura. I have a thought that-
He couldn’t write anything after that. He felt something within his own mind resonate, as though a drum he had never known existed had been struck with a large drumming hammer. He dropped his pen, some ink still left on the tip, back in his ink jar, and looked up. He could have sworn he had heard a voice…but nothing. He looked back down to his log.
I’m not nothing.
This time Lercer jumped out of his seat, the chair flung a meter or so behind him, and he looked around wildly.
Who is this??? He thought urgently, worriedly. How did someone get in my head like this?
Well, it was quite easy, seeing as I’ve been doing it for years now. And as for who it is, look around the room you’re in. The voice wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm or welcoming. Lercer looked around the room, but nobody was there.
I don’t see anyone else here. Where are you? Show yourself! Lercer demanded.
That’s a shame. You don’t even notice someone who you’ve been watching for…how long have I been here? A note of curiosity in the voice. Well, that doesn’t matter. For however long I’ve been here, you have – apparently – been watching me, trying to make me recover. So far you have been unsuccessful. Now do you know who this is? The voice said coldly.
Incredulous, Lercer turned towards the bed in the back corner. He blinked once, twice. The young man was still under the sheets, unmoving. But, then again…
You are the young man we brought in ten days ago?
Lercer grabbed his ears as the young man began loosing a stream of very loud curses in his head.
What!? Ten days? What have you done? Where are my possessions? Where am I? What have you done to me? Why can’t I move? Release me! By the Overlords themselves, I swear I will cut you down if necessary to finish my task!
What are you talking about? Lercer asked. Show yourself in my mind. If you can project your voice into my mind, perhaps you can do the same of your body.
Very well. The young man said. After a moment or two, a picture of the young man, fully clothed, stood in Lercer’s mind. He examined the mental image he was receiving. The young man was mostly shrouded by a cloak and its hood, but the cape he wore was tattered at the edge that hung but a few centimeters off the ground. His chest was bare, but he wore loose-fitting pants that were held up by a belt made of fine, black leather. The sandals on his feet looked very stiff, and they seemed to protect already well-calloused feet. He threw back his hood to reveal steel-gray eyes, one half-covered by the bangs of his dull black hair, that layered itself thickly over his scalp and just barely reached the base of his neck. From his neck, just below the clasp of his cloak and between the twin clasps of his cape hung a small necklace that glimmered like nothing Lercer had ever seen before; pure gold, he realized. That necklace is pure gold.
The young man stretched his arms wide. “Well?” He spoke in the voice Lercer had been hearing, and it matched the aura his physical presence seemed to emanate. “Here I am…so to speak. Now, I have some questions. Where am I?”
Lercer cleared his throat, and focused his mind, so that a mental projection of himself began to speak his responses.
“You are at the Elemantria university of magical studies. You stumbled into one of the girl’s dormitory buildings before collapsing. Apparently, you woke up long enough to have a short try at healing yourself before collapsing again. The girls that witnessed your collapse – those that were strong-willed enough, that is – brought you into the infirmary, where you’ve been now for ten days. I have tried to heal you, but you’ve burnt yourself out quite badly. And on top of that, there’s an aura of dark magic surrounding the wound on your side. We stitched it shut with needle and thread to stop the bleeding, because we couldn’t use magic to heal it. We had less luck than you, though,” he added thoughtfully. “You seem to have made the aura-barrier weaker. But like I said, you’ve burnt yourself out quite badly. I’ve watched your physical energy begin to come back starting yesterday, but I don’t know what to do from here.”
The mental projection of the young man appeared to go into deep thought. Lercer opened his eyes and saw that the young man’s face seemed to be screwing itself up in concentration.
“Well, I have a thought,” the young man in Lercer’s head spoke up again, his voice solemn.
“Well?” Lercer asked via his mental projection of himself. “What is this idea?”
The young man in his mind stepped forward; long, powerful strides that emanated his power that much more. He stopped just in front of Lercer’s mental projection, leaning in very close to his face. “It’s quite simple, really,” he said with a smirk. “Have your mages cast a spell to restore physical energy to me. From what I can tell, in my current state it’ll take a lot of magical power to make me wake up, and I have something very important to do, very quickly. The sooner you can revive me, the better.” The young man’s mental projection turned to walk away. “I’m going to return to being the over exhausted cripple I was before I contacted you,” he called over his mentally fabricated shoulder as it began to vanish. As the projection began to disappear, his voice became more omniscient. If anyone else wishes to talk to me, don’t let them unless it’s very important. I like the quiet, and I’d much prefer to only speak to those I have business with. Those who are meant to understand those words will understand them.
Lercer looked around the room again. You know I’ll have to let people know that you have the capability to communicate, even if your body does not.
Of course I do. Why do you think I phrased what I said the way I did? Now go let your superiors know, EXACTLY as I said it.
And that was the end of the conversation.
The next day the young man began to communicate with Lercer a bit more, but his attitude never changed. He found out Lercer’s name and that he was the most skilled healer in the University, which Lercer found out was where the young man had wanted to end up in the first place.
“You’re the master healer in Elemantria?” the young man had scoffed fictitiously. “And you couldn’t remove the dark aura over my wound? Some healer.”
“You’re the one that was out in the storm in the first place,” Lercer had retorted. The young man fell silent at that.
Lercer told the young man, who refused to name himself, that he had alerted the Headmaster of his presence, but that because students had been witnesses to his arrival he was bound to have many visitors, as well as the fact that he had had visitors every day he had been there.
The apparition in Lercer’s head sighed in frustration, and cursed. “By the Overlords, why do people flock to me like this wherever I go?” he cried exasperatedly.
“I have a different question,” Lercer’s mental image of himself said back. “Why do you have such a filthy mouth? Any time something goes even slightly wrong you’re cursing this and by the Overlords that – what does it accomplish? And why do you believe in that ancient Overlords nonsense?”
All at once, several things happened. The apparition in Lercer’s head vanished, and he suddenly felt a stiff, ice-cold hand at his throat. He looked, wide-eyed, and saw that the young man had leapt out of bed, wearing nothing but his pants, and lunged at Lercer, but did not squeeze his hand around the man’s throat.
“DON’T…” the young man started. His voice sounded ethereal, godlike. He was radiating pure magical energy in a midnight-blue aura around himself, and his eyes glowed the same color. “DON’T…EVER…INSULT THE OVERLORDS LIKE THAT…AGAIN.” He sounded truly angry. “DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THE STORIES? THEY ARE TRUE, WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IT OR NOT. AND YOU WILL ONE DAY ACCEPT THAT TO BE FACT, WHETHER YOU CHOOSE TO OR NOT!” the young man boomed out, making the building shake. Lercer was about to call for help when the young man released his hand, stalked back to the bed in the corner and tucked himself in before the aura faded and he went back to being himself.
Lercer, terrified by this, failed to notice the stitches lying on the ground.
That night, Lercer attempted to talk to the young man once more, this time with good news.
Sir, the spell you requested-
An odd buzzing sound played in his head. He had no idea what it meant, but it sounded like a rude denial.
Sir, we have the spell ready. We can now attempt to revive you!
The same odd buzzing sound.
Will you open up at all, or do I need to have you communicate with someone else?
This time the sound was almost deafening. Lercer, now frustrated, left the man to himself, returning a few minutes later with the headmaster.
“…And all I heard was this odd buzzing sound, in my head,” Lercer finished. “I have no idea what it means; perhaps you can get through to him.”
The headmaster, a wizened looking old man with long white hair and a long white beard which he stroked wistfully, pondered for a minute. “I shall try,” he announced finally, walking towards the young man. As he got closer, a look of recognition crossed his face, as though he had remembered something important – and vanished as quickly as it came, but not fast enough for Lercer to not notice. Lercer frowned, but kept silent.
The headmaster stared at the young man for a minute, then closed his eyes.
Young man, can you hear me? He tried.
There was silence.
Can you hear me, young man? He tried a little louder.
Then a cocky-sounding reply Yeah, I can hear you, old man.
The headmaster sighed, both out of relief and of grief; he had dealt with people like this young man before, if his assumption of his character so far was correct, and that would not be easy.
I am the headmaster of this academy. Our head healer, Lercer, simply wants you to know that the spell you requested to rejuvenate you has been successfully prepared and we are willing to attempt it tonight, if you so wish.
There was a pause, and then the young man appeared in the headmaster’s mind as an astral projection once more. In response, the headmaster did the same.
”You’re certain?” the young man asked from under his hood. “They will do it tonight?”
“You certainly don’t sound excited about it,” the headmaster replied.
“If you’d lived my life, you’d understand why.”
The headmaster chuckled. “Well now, you most certainly are the man I was told was to be arriving.”
“Well what do you know? Someone who finally realizes why I’m here.” The young man sounded angry as he said it. He began to walk away, the projection beginning to fade as he did.
“Wait!” the headmaster called after him. “I have something very important to ask!”
The pseudo person in front of him turned back, becoming slightly more solid once again.
“Make it quick, I have a lot of lying around doing nothing to do.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“I will need to discuss this with you in more detail later, so consider this your first last chance. Are you willing to do what we ask of you when the time comes?”
The young man laughed heartily. “You honestly think I would turn down a challenge? You have a lot to learn.”
And with that, he vanished.
Almost as an afterthought, an ethereal voice said, And don’t worry. I’ll be ready for you when you have the spell ready.
As dusk settled on the academy, a larger crowd than normal was gathered around the infirmary. Asdra could sense their presence, and it irritated him.
For the last time, make them leave! He demanded once again. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I. Hate. People!
Lercer responded coolly. And I’ll say it every time you do: they don’t care. They wish to be here for various reasons, and we can’t make them leave unless they’re impeding our operations.
Again, that odd buzzing sound in Lercer’s head; but apparently it had been broadcast publicly; many of the students started looking around, and snippets of the chatter that followed indicated to Lercer that they had heard it.
Ah! Lercer said mentally. They’re here with the spell.
Good, I’m sick and tired of sitting here, feeling my physical energy drip back to my system like dew off of a leaf in the morning.
Lercer couldn’t help but laugh. My word, is that an actual honest response from you? No sarcasm whatsoever? I’m shocked; I didn’t think that was physically possible.
Just as I was now proven wrong that you don’t have a sense of humor or a little bit of impurity in your heart, the young man retorted.
Thunder rumbled loudly, rattling all of the glass in the local tavern near the edge of Siphur. Siphur was normally a quaint little town, with a bustling market, honest people and fresh goods. However, tonight was different. There was a man approaching the town. He wore a long, tattered black cloak, a black hat that covered his steel-grey eyes, a black leather vest and black leather pants, with black leather gloves and black leather boots. His footsteps fell heavily in the muddy dirt road that cut through the town, but no one could hear them over the sound of the rain falling like lead throughout the town. He sat there, staring at the bleak town, all the lights out, everyone sleeping peacefully. He frowned.
Suddenly, a shadow on the ground started flowing towards him. It moved on its own accord, going this way and that, then stopped just at the man’s feet. He looked down and stared at it. He then said, “It’s about time you got here, Zeth. You’re late.”
The shadow suddenly began to rise out of the ground, taking a humanoid form. Ten seconds later what was once a puddle of shadow on the ground was the approximate size of a young child, staring up at this strange man with its beady little eyes.
“Sorry, master, I was troubled.”
“Troubled?” the man asked. He had a deep voice; a cold, relentless voice that could make grown men collapse into madness.
“Yes, master, I had to wait behind a tree for several hours. Some mundanes were nearby, and I was forced to wait where I was until they left.”
“Ah. I see.” The man thought about this for a moment or two. “You do realize, Zeth, that this is your third warning this week…?”
“Yes, master, I am deeply sorry, but it was beyond my control.”
“By this time, I would have killed any other henchmen, and have done so before.”
“I know, master.”
“I only put up with you because your father was the best I ever had, and the only Shadowling I had ever had that died honorably.”
“Yes, master.”
“But…”
“Heeeeek!” Zeth squealed. The man had just placed his hand right up to Zeth’s throat. The man’s hand was glowing.
“I have petrified many Shadowlings before you, and would not hesitate to add you to my collection, Zeth…”
Zeth swallowed. “Y-yes, master…I will try harder, master…I promise.”
“You had better live up to your promise, Zeth, or else…you know the consequences of failure. And this plan is far too important to fail. The Lord will not be pleased if this plan fails…”
“Yes, master Frincel. I will not forget it.”
“Now then,” said Frincel, “To business. It is time to put the Lord’s plan to action. Stay back.”
Suddenly, Frincel noticed a lone figure charging relentlessly away from the town. Zeth saw it too. “Shall I go after him, master…?” His eyes began to glint with malice.
“No. He is not important. Even if he was, I would probably ask Asnur or Frusnik. They are far more trustworthy…no, we shall just do what was planned, not go after useless people.”
Moments later, Frincel was walking away, silhouetted against the horizon by the blazing village. He could hear the screams of terror, the whispers of final prayers. Frincel smiled to himself.
“And so it begins,” he said quietly.
A young man staggered through the heavy squall. It had been a long time since he’d seen the weather this bad, but nonetheless he soldiered on. He had to. All his training would be in vain if he didn’t. He was determined to, and that meant that no matter what happened, he would make it.
He tripped over a small outcropping of rock, landing on the side he was currently holding. He howled with pain, his cries being lost into the wind howling over him. Gritting his teeth and fighting tears, he stood up again, staggering from pain and wind. He looked around, picked a direction and began to hobble in it, hoping he would find something soon.
***
“Man, I’m so bored!” Crystal cried out, shaking her head in her hands.
“You’re always bored, Crystal…” Aria sounded sad, almost depressed, as the words dribbled out of her mouth.
Crystal turned around. “Aria, are you still depressed about that?”
“Maybe…” was the sullen reply.
“Look,” Crystal started. She was really getting to hate this speech-giving. This made…ugh, she’d lost count. She sighed heavily and soldiered on. “Look, you can’t keep sulking about…about what happened. You’ve got to move on.”
“You mean like that guy out there?”
“What guy?”
“Just that guy out there…you see him?”
“Yeah, but it’s kinda hard through the-” Crystal lost her sentence.
Aria realized it too. There was a person stumbling around outside! Didn’t he know it was raining? Was he a lost traveler? This wasn’t the time to worry about it. They both bolted out into the hallway from their room, the door slamming and bringing others out into the hallway, some half asleep.
“What’s wrong…?”
“Aria, did you…?”
“Crystal, can’t you keep her calm?”
“No time to explain!” Crystal said, her voice balancing between a motherly worry and a stern order. “Someone’s stumbling around outside!”
***
The young man staggered through flooded streets, seeing lights around him. He cringed from the pain; the dark stain that now covered his hand despite the rain was creeping up his arm. He looked around desperately. Was that…a door? He couldn’t tell. He was in such pain his vision was blurring…or was that the rain? It didn’t matter – he needed to get out of the storm. He stumbled towards the shaft of light, cut off by the storm and its enveloping darkness.
***
Aria and Crystal were heading the pack towards the doors. Their numbers had grown, and they were either following the rumor, now getting twisted by word of mouth and falsely heard words, but nonetheless they drew attention. However, it was in the foyer that they were all stopped dead.
A young man had walked in.
He seemed young, though his pale gray skin wouldn’t have said that. He was dripping wet, and he wore a cloak with a hood that shrouded his face; underneath, a cape, the bottom edge torn to shreds, and some other garments indiscernible from the shroud of his cloak. He threw the cloak aside, as though in a daze, and began to stumble forward. All eyes were on him as he steadily began to shuffle forward, possibly even unaware of what was in front of him. Aria audibly gasped as she saw his side, stained a deep red that was dripping everywhere, as water through a sieve. Some girls began weeping silently at the sight; how could he have made it anywhere in such a state?
Finally, the young man could bear it no more. He screamed, he screamed as though he had never felt pain and suddenly broken every bone in his body. As he screamed, he fell forward; to him, it seemed an eternity. As his cheek hit the cool, hard surface of the floor, everything went black.
***
It certainly wasn’t pleasant. He felt as though he were falling, through an infinite hole, infinitely black, with no sense of anything. It was as though his mind was torturing him, strange sensations all over his body; occasionally a sharp pain, and he winced every time it was pain. Then…a picture. A moving picture. A fuzzy moving picture? He peered closer…and the picture enveloped him…
He was home.
It was his home, his home from so long ago. He looked up and saw his mother, towering over him, screaming silent words at him. He saw her mouthing “coward” and “pathetic” and “useless” and “braindead” at him. He shuddered in fear, and she raised her hand…but she was holding something…it glinted up to it’s point, which she brought down, and…
The picture changed around him.
Now he was facing his father, who was facing his mother. His father…that great mountain of a man, who could be tamed by no one, especially with too much mead…he jumped between the two, trying to shield his mother, despite her attempts to sweep him out of the way…then he felt two blows, one to the top of his head from the front, and one to the side from behind…
The picture changed again. He winced at a particularly sharp jab of pain, again from nowhere.
Now he was running across the field. He wasn’t sure why, but he was angry. He felt his bag bouncing against his back, heard the voices ringing after him…but he kept charging forward.
FLASH.
He turned around and saw his home, his village, all ablaze, despite the heavy rain. It was as though Hell itself had spat on the miserable spot of land, as he’d wished it would for so many years…but tears came to his eyes nonetheless, and he hid himself.
The picture changed again, swirling into incomprehensibility and back again.
It was morning. The storm had subsided, and he was wandering through the remains of his village. This part was far more vivid than the rest of it, but he couldn’t tell why. He turned the corner, to where his house was, unsure of what to expect...
But it was the same as all the others. Even the stone parts were charred completely, a thin layer of the stone itself so black it crumbled off to the touch. He cautiously went inside…and gagged. His parents, oh God, his parents…as much as he had hated them…
He fell to his knees, and vomited at the sight. When he finished, he stood up and bolted. He ran as though he knew nothing of exhaustion, until he finally collapsed as the sun was setting, and he closed his eyes…when it started to rain again. Why did it start to rain? Was something missing from the story his mind was telling? As it did, he felt the wind pick up so quickly it shocked him. Suddenly, a massive gray something came towards him…and picked him up…and he saw massive beams of wood flying around…and as one of the pieces splintered midair, one of the larger splinters shaved its way down his side.
He howled at the force of nature that was carrying him. He howled in pain as hot tears of agony rolled down his cheeks. As he did, he felt himself get hurled, hurled very far…and he landed on his back.
But his back wasn’t that hurt…it was…
SNAP.
The young man bolted upright, screaming again in agony. Why was he on his back? Hadn’t he fallen face-first? And why were there so many people around him? He looked around, panicked by the sudden change in scenery from before, and in a flash had scooted back against the wall, still clutching his side.
“Who…who are…what am I…nnnnngggggghhhhhhhhh…What’s going on here? What are you all doing?” his questions sounded frantic, as though he had expected something completely different.
He saw one of the girls start approaching him, cautiously. He held out a hand, trying to scoot back farther, as though he could go through the wall. “Stay…stay back!” he yelped. “Don’t make me…”
“What?” she asked, in a soothing voice. The young man stopped what he was trying to do, seemingly mesmerized by the soothing tones of the voice. “Don’t make you what?” She asked again.
“I…I…I-I-abuhhh…?” the young man babbled quietly before clenching his teeth in pain again. When it had subsided, he looked up through his eyes, squinting shut on him through the pain. “Who…who are you people?” He demanded, even if quietly. “What am I doing here, and what are you trying to do to me?” He winced again.
The girl that had approached him suddenly had a strange look on her face – a mix of shock and realization. “You’re at the Elemantria academy,” she said soothingly. “You’re wounded; let us take care of yo-”
“No.”
The young man started to stand up again, and several girls gasped. He heard whispers, as clearly as if they were speaking directly to him.
“Is he crazy?”
“In his condition, he shouldn’t be moving at all!”
“What’s he planning to do to her?”
“I’m not pla-nnnrrrggghhh…I’m not planning anything,” he said to the crowd. There were more gasps, and more whispered comments and gossip. By the Overlords, how he hated that sort of thing. He raised his hands to his injured side and muttered, “Vox of Lux lucis , suffragium meus jurgium. Vigoratus!”
His hands began glowing white, the light getting brighter and brighter until it flashed like lightning; he smirked to himself as he heard shrieks from the girls that had gathered. As the light dimmed, he looked down at his side.
It was still bleeding, even if not as much.
“By the Overlords…” he whispered. He had run out of options, and energy. He collapsed at long last, finally succumbing to the pain and fatigue that had plagued him that night.
There were voices. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, or anything about their gender, levels of concern or how badly they might or might not want to kill him. He tried to groan, but he couldn’t find the strength to even make a single sound. He felt as though the sheets that covered him were really long, thin, semi-see-through boulders, pulling him towards the ground that was unnaturally soft; so much so, in fact, that he felt he was sinking about a third of a meter into it, whatever it was. What was going on beyond his sheets? There was an awful lot of noise…by the Overlords, it sounded as though someone were getting ready to kill someone else…but he still couldn’t quite hear what was being said.
***
“I don’t care what the circumstances are, we are not keeping…one of his kind in this academy, under any circumstances!” Broana screamed.
“And I don’t care what your reasons are, he is here healing and there is nothing we can do about that until he wakes up.” Lercer said firmly.
“You…you…” Broana tried to speak, but she was shaking with rage and the finger she had aimed in the master healer’s direction proved it.
Lercer smirked at her. “I what? Make sense, compared to you? Or have you just rid yourself of the remedy I gave you for your anger problems again?”
Broana released a frustrated scream before storming out the door. Lercer chuckled to himself. Well, that takes care of that one, he thought to himself. But what about our honored guest? He thought inquisitively as he turned to the still body of a young man, tucked safely underneath several layers of sheets and a large, patchwork quilt for extra warmth. Lercer frowned as his thoughts delved into deep awe, admiration and curiosity once more; his thoughts had done this a lot for the past ten days. There were three main questions buzzing in his head; firstly, what was this young man doing out in that terrible storm? Second, how had he received that massive injury that they could only stitch up with a needle and thread? And finally, most likely the most important question of them all: why wasn’t he dead? He had been in conditions that would have killed men without any proper wards or magical protection for who knew how long. He technically shouldn’t be alive…yet here he was, his breathing steady as a rock. Though something was different today; as Lercer leaned in closer, he realized what it was; the young man was mumbling nonsense under his breath…trying to speak? Lercer put a hand over the young man’s sweat-drenched forehead, and frowned. He still had a cold sweat, but no fever. It was very troubling for a man of healing like Lercer; nothing was adding up. He should have been dead, yet here he was, breathing steadily. He had a simple flesh wound, yet magic wouldn’t heal it; they had to stitch it shut with a needle and thread. He was drenched in a cold sweat, but he had no fever…Lercer rubbed his bare chin.
There were questions to be asked when the young man woke up…if he ever did wake up, that is.
***
“What’s going on? Where am I?” the young man kept trying to ask. Unfortunately, he could barely understand himself. At best, he heard himself whisper something that vaguely resembled the message he wanted to speak.
This is troublesome, he thought to himself. Thank the Overlords his mind was still in working order. I can’t communicate through my body about my condition, or ask my questions. I can sense a dark energy at the wound on my side, but they must have managed to stop the bleeding. I guess my physical body is too worn out…which leaves me one option.
He concentrated, and almost immediately felt the flow of arcane energy rush up to his face, making it feel hot. He concentrated further, and the energy flowed into his eyes…and he was able to open them, but only for a few seconds. He took in his surroundings for a brief moment, and located a man in the room with him – not much older than he, perhaps – before letting them close again.
Excellent, he thought with a mental smirk. That will make this actually work for a change.
***
Lercer was writing in his healer’s log; he knew not many healers kept one these days, but he figured it was an easy way to learn. He recorded what patients came to him with, how he treated their condition and, if need be, what worked and what didn’t, followed by the outcome of the treatment. He was writing about his only major patient for the last ten days; the young man in the bed in the corner.
Healer’s log, day 10
Patient: unknown
Desc.: Patient is still breathing steadily, Cold sweat began on day 3; no change in symptom. Still profuse sweating, yet no fever to be cooling. Patient could be sweating something out of his system, but to take so long to sweat out an illness is dangerous to the patient’s health. I have kept up daily treatments to keep the patient hydrated and, overall, alive. When he was first brought in, I detected a dark aura around the wound in his side. Perhaps that is blocking attempts at white magic; I tested this theory, but even our most skilled mages were unable to remove this aura. I have a thought that-
He couldn’t write anything after that. He felt something within his own mind resonate, as though a drum he had never known existed had been struck with a large drumming hammer. He dropped his pen, some ink still left on the tip, back in his ink jar, and looked up. He could have sworn he had heard a voice…but nothing. He looked back down to his log.
I’m not nothing.
This time Lercer jumped out of his seat, the chair flung a meter or so behind him, and he looked around wildly.
Who is this??? He thought urgently, worriedly. How did someone get in my head like this?
Well, it was quite easy, seeing as I’ve been doing it for years now. And as for who it is, look around the room you’re in. The voice wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm or welcoming. Lercer looked around the room, but nobody was there.
I don’t see anyone else here. Where are you? Show yourself! Lercer demanded.
That’s a shame. You don’t even notice someone who you’ve been watching for…how long have I been here? A note of curiosity in the voice. Well, that doesn’t matter. For however long I’ve been here, you have – apparently – been watching me, trying to make me recover. So far you have been unsuccessful. Now do you know who this is? The voice said coldly.
Incredulous, Lercer turned towards the bed in the back corner. He blinked once, twice. The young man was still under the sheets, unmoving. But, then again…
You are the young man we brought in ten days ago?
Lercer grabbed his ears as the young man began loosing a stream of very loud curses in his head.
What!? Ten days? What have you done? Where are my possessions? Where am I? What have you done to me? Why can’t I move? Release me! By the Overlords themselves, I swear I will cut you down if necessary to finish my task!
What are you talking about? Lercer asked. Show yourself in my mind. If you can project your voice into my mind, perhaps you can do the same of your body.
Very well. The young man said. After a moment or two, a picture of the young man, fully clothed, stood in Lercer’s mind. He examined the mental image he was receiving. The young man was mostly shrouded by a cloak and its hood, but the cape he wore was tattered at the edge that hung but a few centimeters off the ground. His chest was bare, but he wore loose-fitting pants that were held up by a belt made of fine, black leather. The sandals on his feet looked very stiff, and they seemed to protect already well-calloused feet. He threw back his hood to reveal steel-gray eyes, one half-covered by the bangs of his dull black hair, that layered itself thickly over his scalp and just barely reached the base of his neck. From his neck, just below the clasp of his cloak and between the twin clasps of his cape hung a small necklace that glimmered like nothing Lercer had ever seen before; pure gold, he realized. That necklace is pure gold.
The young man stretched his arms wide. “Well?” He spoke in the voice Lercer had been hearing, and it matched the aura his physical presence seemed to emanate. “Here I am…so to speak. Now, I have some questions. Where am I?”
Lercer cleared his throat, and focused his mind, so that a mental projection of himself began to speak his responses.
“You are at the Elemantria university of magical studies. You stumbled into one of the girl’s dormitory buildings before collapsing. Apparently, you woke up long enough to have a short try at healing yourself before collapsing again. The girls that witnessed your collapse – those that were strong-willed enough, that is – brought you into the infirmary, where you’ve been now for ten days. I have tried to heal you, but you’ve burnt yourself out quite badly. And on top of that, there’s an aura of dark magic surrounding the wound on your side. We stitched it shut with needle and thread to stop the bleeding, because we couldn’t use magic to heal it. We had less luck than you, though,” he added thoughtfully. “You seem to have made the aura-barrier weaker. But like I said, you’ve burnt yourself out quite badly. I’ve watched your physical energy begin to come back starting yesterday, but I don’t know what to do from here.”
The mental projection of the young man appeared to go into deep thought. Lercer opened his eyes and saw that the young man’s face seemed to be screwing itself up in concentration.
“Well, I have a thought,” the young man in Lercer’s head spoke up again, his voice solemn.
“Well?” Lercer asked via his mental projection of himself. “What is this idea?”
The young man in his mind stepped forward; long, powerful strides that emanated his power that much more. He stopped just in front of Lercer’s mental projection, leaning in very close to his face. “It’s quite simple, really,” he said with a smirk. “Have your mages cast a spell to restore physical energy to me. From what I can tell, in my current state it’ll take a lot of magical power to make me wake up, and I have something very important to do, very quickly. The sooner you can revive me, the better.” The young man’s mental projection turned to walk away. “I’m going to return to being the over exhausted cripple I was before I contacted you,” he called over his mentally fabricated shoulder as it began to vanish. As the projection began to disappear, his voice became more omniscient. If anyone else wishes to talk to me, don’t let them unless it’s very important. I like the quiet, and I’d much prefer to only speak to those I have business with. Those who are meant to understand those words will understand them.
Lercer looked around the room again. You know I’ll have to let people know that you have the capability to communicate, even if your body does not.
Of course I do. Why do you think I phrased what I said the way I did? Now go let your superiors know, EXACTLY as I said it.
And that was the end of the conversation.
The next day the young man began to communicate with Lercer a bit more, but his attitude never changed. He found out Lercer’s name and that he was the most skilled healer in the University, which Lercer found out was where the young man had wanted to end up in the first place.
“You’re the master healer in Elemantria?” the young man had scoffed fictitiously. “And you couldn’t remove the dark aura over my wound? Some healer.”
“You’re the one that was out in the storm in the first place,” Lercer had retorted. The young man fell silent at that.
Lercer told the young man, who refused to name himself, that he had alerted the Headmaster of his presence, but that because students had been witnesses to his arrival he was bound to have many visitors, as well as the fact that he had had visitors every day he had been there.
The apparition in Lercer’s head sighed in frustration, and cursed. “By the Overlords, why do people flock to me like this wherever I go?” he cried exasperatedly.
“I have a different question,” Lercer’s mental image of himself said back. “Why do you have such a filthy mouth? Any time something goes even slightly wrong you’re cursing this and by the Overlords that – what does it accomplish? And why do you believe in that ancient Overlords nonsense?”
All at once, several things happened. The apparition in Lercer’s head vanished, and he suddenly felt a stiff, ice-cold hand at his throat. He looked, wide-eyed, and saw that the young man had leapt out of bed, wearing nothing but his pants, and lunged at Lercer, but did not squeeze his hand around the man’s throat.
“DON’T…” the young man started. His voice sounded ethereal, godlike. He was radiating pure magical energy in a midnight-blue aura around himself, and his eyes glowed the same color. “DON’T…EVER…INSULT THE OVERLORDS LIKE THAT…AGAIN.” He sounded truly angry. “DO YOU NOT REMEMBER THE STORIES? THEY ARE TRUE, WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IT OR NOT. AND YOU WILL ONE DAY ACCEPT THAT TO BE FACT, WHETHER YOU CHOOSE TO OR NOT!” the young man boomed out, making the building shake. Lercer was about to call for help when the young man released his hand, stalked back to the bed in the corner and tucked himself in before the aura faded and he went back to being himself.
Lercer, terrified by this, failed to notice the stitches lying on the ground.
That night, Lercer attempted to talk to the young man once more, this time with good news.
Sir, the spell you requested-
An odd buzzing sound played in his head. He had no idea what it meant, but it sounded like a rude denial.
Sir, we have the spell ready. We can now attempt to revive you!
The same odd buzzing sound.
Will you open up at all, or do I need to have you communicate with someone else?
This time the sound was almost deafening. Lercer, now frustrated, left the man to himself, returning a few minutes later with the headmaster.
“…And all I heard was this odd buzzing sound, in my head,” Lercer finished. “I have no idea what it means; perhaps you can get through to him.”
The headmaster, a wizened looking old man with long white hair and a long white beard which he stroked wistfully, pondered for a minute. “I shall try,” he announced finally, walking towards the young man. As he got closer, a look of recognition crossed his face, as though he had remembered something important – and vanished as quickly as it came, but not fast enough for Lercer to not notice. Lercer frowned, but kept silent.
The headmaster stared at the young man for a minute, then closed his eyes.
Young man, can you hear me? He tried.
There was silence.
Can you hear me, young man? He tried a little louder.
Then a cocky-sounding reply Yeah, I can hear you, old man.
The headmaster sighed, both out of relief and of grief; he had dealt with people like this young man before, if his assumption of his character so far was correct, and that would not be easy.
I am the headmaster of this academy. Our head healer, Lercer, simply wants you to know that the spell you requested to rejuvenate you has been successfully prepared and we are willing to attempt it tonight, if you so wish.
There was a pause, and then the young man appeared in the headmaster’s mind as an astral projection once more. In response, the headmaster did the same.
”You’re certain?” the young man asked from under his hood. “They will do it tonight?”
“You certainly don’t sound excited about it,” the headmaster replied.
“If you’d lived my life, you’d understand why.”
The headmaster chuckled. “Well now, you most certainly are the man I was told was to be arriving.”
“Well what do you know? Someone who finally realizes why I’m here.” The young man sounded angry as he said it. He began to walk away, the projection beginning to fade as he did.
“Wait!” the headmaster called after him. “I have something very important to ask!”
The pseudo person in front of him turned back, becoming slightly more solid once again.
“Make it quick, I have a lot of lying around doing nothing to do.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“I will need to discuss this with you in more detail later, so consider this your first last chance. Are you willing to do what we ask of you when the time comes?”
The young man laughed heartily. “You honestly think I would turn down a challenge? You have a lot to learn.”
And with that, he vanished.
Almost as an afterthought, an ethereal voice said, And don’t worry. I’ll be ready for you when you have the spell ready.
As dusk settled on the academy, a larger crowd than normal was gathered around the infirmary. Asdra could sense their presence, and it irritated him.
For the last time, make them leave! He demanded once again. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I. Hate. People!
Lercer responded coolly. And I’ll say it every time you do: they don’t care. They wish to be here for various reasons, and we can’t make them leave unless they’re impeding our operations.
Again, that odd buzzing sound in Lercer’s head; but apparently it had been broadcast publicly; many of the students started looking around, and snippets of the chatter that followed indicated to Lercer that they had heard it.
Ah! Lercer said mentally. They’re here with the spell.
Good, I’m sick and tired of sitting here, feeling my physical energy drip back to my system like dew off of a leaf in the morning.
Lercer couldn’t help but laugh. My word, is that an actual honest response from you? No sarcasm whatsoever? I’m shocked; I didn’t think that was physically possible.
Just as I was now proven wrong that you don’t have a sense of humor or a little bit of impurity in your heart, the young man retorted.