《Flame of the Immortals》 Prologue ¡°Please, you are the child¡¯s only hope.¡± claimed the pretty dark elf. ¡°Now, don¡¯t you go worrying yourself to death Peta.¡± Said a figure armoured in full plate steel from head to toe. The figure¡¯s voice was low in pitch, but no accent was discernible. Peta looked at the armoured figure her features becoming still as her smile faded. ¡°Ah, sorry, yes. The magical creature and foul magic which threatens to exterminate your entire people.¡± It answered cooly, appearing utterly unconcerned about both the insensitive comment and the possible demise of thousands of people. ¡°Yes, that is why the child left. Another silly human, trying to play the hero.¡± She huffed, her fingers repeatedly drumming the cover of the book on her desk. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°One which you want to be saved, correct?¡± it asked. ¡°Of course, my apprentice is being silly, making the situation more desperate than it is we have been living for thousands of years and made our home in these caves since before humans walked the earth. There is nothing to be worried about.¡± She spoke her musical voice charmed an otherwise patronising tone. ¡°I think I have to agree with the child on this one. I am more concerned about this creature.¡± It replied. ¡°Don¡¯t be. We Faerie will resolve that problem.¡± She rebuffed. ¡°We will see.¡± He spoke solemnly. ¡°Quickly your arrival is most fortuitous, but now you must hurry stranger.¡± She answered, unheeding its lack of faith in her people to deal with the calamity, eager to get the child back. ¡°Stalwart. The name is Owen Stalwart.¡± Said the armoured figure as it left. It took a few steps out the door when it collapsed. The fall caused an awful clamouring as steel struck stone as the figure grunted in pain and then lay still. Peta rushed out the door. She waved her hand and dark blue lines appeared, they shimmered over the figure before they faded. Her eyes widened, and she let out a gasp. ¡°Dead.¡± She muttered. Crawling in the Dark The small figure the size of a child walked with bleeding bare feet along a dark tunnel in a cave of nightmares. Water dripped down in large and small drops alike catching the figure''s dark skin past loosely hung rags. The water melded with sweat to leave lingering damp and the cold sapped the figure as the rags clung to its body with a numbing grip. It held a rusted iron sword in its grip; the blade was short only the length of its arm and had been picked up with the rags from the dead. The lingering oblivion of sleep weighed on it and it felt scantly better now that it had rested. Its hollow cheeks were encrusted with tears parting the dirt stains like a stream down a mountainside. It pulled the rags closer as a fresh but chilly breeze blew through the dark tunnel. It had no directions to follow, only the remembered advice to keep to the left if it reached a dead end go back and take a right. With every right turn, it remembered by repeating the number silently. Not because he was afraid of being heard but for the pain and dryness of his throat. It kept to the walls always with a hand on the rocky surface as step by step it made its way in the dark. It winced as a fresh blister popped, but it kept on walking, it groaned as a sharp stone sliced through the heel of its foot. It grunted when it caught its foot and slipped then moaned as it bumped and cut its knee. It got back up and kept walking tears dripping down his cheeks as its throat closed till it felt like it was choking. It remained mostly silent and moving. Shuffling forward in the dark.
A roar echoed through the tunnel. The figure, Rags, dropped the sword and its knees buckled as the air was torn from his body. Crouched to the ground, it curled into a ball and pushed its hands against its ears willing with all its might to keep the sound out. It lay there on the ground long after the roar had ceased gulping for air. Its eyes screwed shut squeezing out the last few tears. It could not get up; when it paid attention to its hands, it saw they trembled. The air felt cool as it slipped through the nooks of the rags and onto its skin. It noticed the ground was cold and hard and did not mind. It stayed like that for a while. It became aware that it had lost count of the number of right turns it had taken. Further, it had forgotten the way it had been going and the way it had been. The name of gods flew to its lips bidden by terror and pain the words silently passed unuttered. It was lost, as it stared into the dark, the soul unwound till a single thread remained. It uncurled from the ball and lay flat on his back. It breathed in and out, and that was all it did. It waited for Death, as the word rang in his thoughts clearer and more immoveable than the name of any god, wealth or mortal. Something bright disturbed his sight, a light in the distance. It came closer and closer. Till it blinded its sight. * ¡°Get up, boy.¡± A harsh voice spoke. Rags remained dazed at the light. The owner of the voice gave Rags a swift kick to the ribs. ¡°You¡¯re not dead. Up. Up. Get up! You are going to live for a little longer, then you can die you little noble brat.¡± the voice, a man¡¯s voice. The voice of one of the robber¡¯s. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°You¡­¡± Rag¡¯s remarks were cut short by another kick this time lower catching the kidney. ¡°Up!¡± he shouted. Silently Rags picked up the sword with a quick grab and got up. In slow, awkward movements. His grimaces of pain and the rusted, blunt edge of his sword were unveiled by the light of the man¡¯s torch. A flake drifted off the torch and was caught by the wind gently falling away till it fizzled out before reaching the ground. ¡°Water¡± croaked Rags. ¡°Here.¡± The man had hesitated but then passed over a flask to Rags. ¡°No more than a sip boy, that gotta last us.¡± He spoke quickly and Rags obeyed. ¡°¡­, boy. Now if my nose is right, and it is always right. The Beast is close. It is tricky, ain¡¯t it, I thought I was escaping but no, no. Into the lion¡¯s den, I trod. Well, well opportunity I think, it will have Brick¡¯s stuff and much, much more. Treasure.¡± He rambled his wide grin hidden by the shadows of the cavern. He took the flask back and stored it away. ¡°Treasure. How can you? Didn¡¯t you hear it? I had thought maybe that I could help them. Treasure. Forget the treasure.¡± Rags mumbled to himself, his gaze away from the light and into the dark. The man smacked Rags, a punch to his temple, letting his torch drop to the floor. Rags stood dazed but a new warmth and vigour flowed through him and he turned to his helper, his attacker. The robber looked even dirtier than before. He had a big, broken nose and the same wide eyes with green pupils like the emeralds he coveted. On his lean face with the carved smile framed by two large ears. The hollowed-out features emphasised the bones of his cheeks that protruded out and his skin bound to fit his skull. Pale, like the warmth, had left the body. Tall and broad shoulders, his arm and thighs thick like tree trunks. His dark hair and his brown dirt-encrusted leather clothes melded in the shadows. The clothes were well maintained but too big and had patches like they had been repaired many times. His gold buttons shone brightly bound at the wrist and boots with a gold buckle tied tight to keep his too wide trousers on. Gloves were frayed and faded black with dried splashes of red on them. A short sword hung at the left side of his waist tied to his belt while a blackjack could be seen hanging from the saddlebag he was carrying on his back. The hilt of a knife poked out from behind his waist. In one hand he carried that hammer, he had crushed that poor woman with it. The faint smell of shit and sweat lingered like it had been too long since someone had dared to tell him he stank like a rotting corpse. Where the other one was, Rags didn¡¯t want to know. That one he felt could guess his thoughts. Even dumb brutality was preferable to an examination of the soul. Even death would be better than being seen. ¡°No, no, boy. You don¡¯t get it. See you are going to help me carry my goods. Understand, I gave you water didn¡¯t I, now you help me.¡± Rags'' sword hand twitched as if remembering it again. The Robber gave Rags¡¯ hand a swift kick knocking the rusted metal out of sight its clatter rang nearby. ¡°Fine.¡± Rags uttered the word, his eyes downcast. There was no resistance left in him. He recognised only his insignificance by the principles of his understanding. ¡°Good, good,¡± said Robber and shoving Rags he added with a wide smile and flash of mirth flickered in his eyes. ¡°You first, take the torch and boy no tricks.¡± Rags without complaint picked up the torch. Holding the torch at arm¡¯s length, Rags started walking in the direction the Robber was heading. The Robber followed behind two strides distance away from Rags. Not that Rags knew, he couldn¡¯t even hear the steps of the Robber. He could hear the crackling of the flames, his boots, and his breath all of which disturbed the almost noiseless dripping of water down the walls the rest of silence. Rags and Robber Countless steps they walked like this, Rags at the front and Robber at the back. Robber spoke, his voice was as harsh as usual to which path they took by his thoughts, lefts and rights but never did they turn back. How he knew the way was beyond Rags. He didn¡¯t ask how the Robber knew or tried to guess, he put one foot in front of the other and kept his silence. ¡°The quiet is killing me, do you never speak, you haven¡¯t even tried to run away.¡± Robber grumbled. ¡°Are you playing nice, boy!¡± he raged raising his voice to a shout. He kicked Rags in the back between the shoulder blades. It launched Rags forwards and sent him stumbling, but he kept his balance steadying his feet before he toppled over. Gasping in pain tears sprung from Rags¡¯s eyes, but the darkness hid them as he hurriedly resisted the urge to cry a brief surge of incomprehensible images of people from the past appearing and blurring together with the singular purpose to ensure Rags did not cry when the man could notice. ¡°Does this damn cavern ever end!¡± complained the Robber. ¡°Fuck, I need a shit. Stay their boy. Move, and I will rip your tiny cock off and make you eat it.¡± He warned his voice deeper than before. ¡°That will shut your belly up!¡± he added with a laugh walking away as Rags¡¯s stomach once again rumbled. The Robber was crouched, only the faintest outline of his form was visible by the wall of the tunnel. Rags, in the darkness with a single, dimming, decaying light stood stunned at what was happening. For the first time, a feeling welled in him, he could feel a dim heat in his chest and a tug of a smile on his face. Rags¡¯ had his chance. He would be in charge, no more pain. The Robber gave out a low groan as he presumable shat. Rags winced like the Robber had struck him again at the sound. He had been in the presence of someone shitting before, yet being forced to listen was more degrading than any punch. He clicked his tongue, his teeth biting together, a flash of heat lit out his cheeks and his hands flexed to a fist. But just as swiftly he let out a breath a dull pull from his stomach drew his attention he became aware of the pain centred in his brow, the weight of his limbs and the sickness of his soul. The Robber was unaware of Rags¡¯s torment but happy that he had shamed Rags and that Rags had proved his deference. A tune came to his lips and he hummed away as he wiped his arse and hands with the leaves of plants on him and a little water. He left the long and broad leaves on the ground as he pulled up his trousers and fastened his belt. ¡°Come, boy, I have a beast to slay and you have gold and jewels to carry.¡± Said the Robber with a smug grin.
Both Rags and the Robber had to squint their eyes, creasing their faces and the Robber raised a hand to cover his eyes. Light. They walked towards it after their brief hesitations under its first appearance. ¡°Come, come on¡± muttered the Robber as he picked up his pace walking past Rags who lagged unable to keep up with the Robber long and quick strides. Eager to get out of the cavern, the Robber didn¡¯t seem disheartened and had forgotten the treasure he had been seeking. They stepped out of the tunnel and entered a wide-open cavern. Far, far above them on a sheer vertical climb on sharp stones the light of the moon shone down from large gaps. The cavern was curved like the inside of a dome but with a crack that led up to the sky. Water dripped from the pointed edges of rocks. Another cool rush of air blew through from the right. The cold bit Rags¡¯s exposed fingers. Rags looking to the left that was only dimly lit by the torch saw that after about ten paces the ground gave way to a sheer drop that went deeper to the bottom of the land. To the right and ahead was what seemed to be an open expanse with boulders. However, the torch illuminated only a little and a sheer drop could be anywhere and catch the unwary person. ¡°It seems we are not out after all but even deeper. We are closer now.¡± Said the Robber neither loudly nor quietly. His head was tilted up and his eyes looked at the moon and stars above. Rags too took in the moonlight and let out a breath. His shoulders rolled forward till now rolled dropped and loosened. The fixed-line of his lips gave way to a downward curve. He gritted his teeth and let out a dry sob as his fist wound up and clenched. He felt again. Not the flash of a fiery blaming but an intense pain from his forehead that came to the fore of his attention and as he focused on it the pain lessened as it spread across his face and his chest tight till now from the pain he had avoided and not even recognised dissipated. He let out a few full breathe of air, a smile forming on his lips. ¡°We go on.¡± Uttered the Robber a solemn expression on his face. And the pain returned, and Rags fled from the overwhelming sensations and placed his awareness only on the lack of feeling and his ceaseless thinking. ¡°You first, come on now. Go, go.¡± Said the Robber walking over and shoving Rags forwards into the dark. They plodded onwards, slowly and carefully as they navigated the rocks that stuck out, the small and sudden drops as well as walking around boulders. The light of the moon helped them make their way through as it gave them a greater vision of what lay ahead. Rags, however, was tired and hungry, his foot hit a rock and gave out a yelp and he dropped the torch and tears rushed to his eyes. He picked up the torch and after a few moments composed himself. The Robber had been quiet during this brief incident but spoke out seeing the pain in Rags¡¯s reaction and his quick recovery. ¡°Stupid, boy. Drop it again, I dare yea. Dumb, noble brat.¡± Scorned the Robber. The darkness and the glare of the torch masked the tightness of Rags¡¯s facial muscles. His shoulder became hunched and back slightly bent and his eyes narrowed. Neither he nor the Robber noticed the behaviour change. Only the steady pain in his temples indicated any change to Rags. That the words had cut deeper than the hardness of stone. ¡°Faster, boy.¡± Growled the Robber. Rags quickened his pace for a few steps then, went slower than before. His limbs felt dull and dead like lumps of metal, he pushed his will to them, to feel them. His legs were sore and his feet stinging. The Robber with a loud, wild noise that seem to come from his belly picked Rags up a thumb and a finger on the base of his neck and lifted him till they were face to face. Rags tried to ply away from the Robber¡¯s hand. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Listen. Noble boy. You creature wearing pieces. I¡¯m the man. You are a brat in dead men¡¯s rags.¡± Spat Robber. ¡°No, father and his army to stop me, no pretty girls who don¡¯t do as they are told and take their fucking as women should, and no child who doesn¡¯t listen and obey me!¡± with each word the Robber voices grew louder and his tone thicker and duller. ¡°It is just me and what I desire. And I want money.¡± claimed the Robber. ¡°I am going to slay this monster and you are going to carry my gold. Good.¡± Rags nodded. Dropping Rags, Robber gave him a little push forward. A few steps later and they were at the base of the hill. It was a steep ascent, Rags had to use his hands at points, partly from fatigue partly to balance. His skin of the left palm cut on the sharp edge of one of the rocks. He paid it little attention, another painful throb among many demanding his attention. Bleeding hand to his side and the other holding the torch, the Robber with his long legs easily kept pace with Rags slow climb. Though even with years of experience in the Wilds, Robber felt the burn in his thighs as they neared the top and reach the summit on the small, steep hill. They took a few moments to breathe, the Robber more conscious of his status, did so more subtly keeping his back straight and noise quiet. Rags absorbed in his feelings, the effort to breathe and the many pains screaming from his feet, legs, hand and his chest. All the while there was this constant pressure at his temples like a knife that every once in while was shaken. His thoughts were confused or just silent. He was aware something was wrong, he just wasn¡¯t sure as to what. Still trying to catch his breath Rags was pushed forward more gently than before, a palm on the back of his head launching him ahead. With two small steps, Rags set the pace and started forwards, his torch illuminating the way, the Robber behind. They had only taken a few steps when they were met with the crack in the wall. ¡°In you go, boy.¡± Said the Robber. Rags looked at Robber. Rags¡¯ breathing was uneven, his small chest rising and falling. A tremor ran through his hands, the white of eyes was visible in the dark. It was a searching gaze. Fear filled Rags, not of Robber. He despised him, but at this moment he knew he didn¡¯t want to go through the crack. He didn¡¯t want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere else but right now. He didn¡¯t even know why he was scared, he was certain the crack scared him he felt wrong. It wasn¡¯t the crack, the pain came closer but he just kept focusing on how he could go through the crack and got more and more afraid. How could he, him, do it? How could this, someone else, anywhere else would be better than him, the Robber he could do it just fine, not him, never him. By now he was as far from the pain as he could get and he was very frightened. The pain was always there. With the glare of the torch, the boy¡¯s gaze looked almost feral. Not anger, yet but that terror caused by overwhelming anxiety. The Robber remembered a rabbit looking like that, he and the boys had been playing it after his big brother had caught it. Each voice speaking a cruel torment that he should inflict upon it. Finally pined and bleeding with no escape, no future. It grew terrified. Robber had crushed its skull, it made a satisfying crunch in his hands. Robber gave Rags two thumps to the head. To calm him down. Rather dizzy, Rags did not calm down but neither was he any worse. His panic continued is all. ¡°Go on, boy. I will be just behind you, pop the torch in first.¡± Encouraged the Robber. Rags heart pounding, sweating pouring off his palms and all over his body obeyed with a sort of stupid servility. Swayed to obedience by the emotive commands of Robber. The crack is low about a metre and a quarter off the ground, it is more than wide enough for the small frame of Rags but will be a tight fit for the Robber. Throwing the torch through, Rags grabs the sharp edges of the bottom of the crack, lifting himself through, the sharp rock cutting into his palms and then tearing at the remains of his clothes and protruding into his soft belly. It is an awkward effort, but he makes it through, landing sorely by the torch with a thump. The Robber just as gracefully as the Rags makes it through the crack. It was darker, beyond the crack, out of the moonlight. Like before. Suffocating stifling. It was confinement without end. It was like this eternally. Had there even been a before? Only a now and the awful sameness of what was inevitable to come. Trapped forever. Rags looked at Robber, paying attention to him for what seemed like the first time as Robber was dusting off his clothes. How wrong he was as a being. A loathsome criminal, no one could care for him, how could they? He was to blame, he is the source of the pain. He is all that is ugly and awful. He deserved to be hurt. It was just to kill him. This seemingly unquestionable assumption was fixed in Rag¡¯s mind. He felt the heat and pain in his cheek. A thumping, awful pounding in his chest. There was dull silence of reflection, fuzzy, dizzy quality of awareness as thought became instant action. His brow tightened as it knitted together painfully the nostrils of his nose widened as a scream ripped out from his open mouth he noticed the burning pain of his throat as the muscles in his neck contracted. The time he noticed and forget all this information is immeasurably quick. Rags swung the torch at Robber but he was kicked in the solar plexus. He hunched over the breath escaping from his body. He desperately gulped in mouthfuls and a renewed sense of panic came to the fore as he struggled to breathe as the Robber choked him as he lifted him in the air one hand around his neck, which constricted Rags breathing as Robber squeezed painfully. ¡°That is enough.¡± Said Robber and he let Rags go. Tears were dripping down Rags face, he desperately tried to wipe them away. ¡°Enough, it¡¯s okay.¡± ¡­ Robber. ¡°I know this is different and difficult. A few good smacks should have straightened you out as Pa said, It¡¯s shameful the way you are acting.¡± On hearing the last word any sense of suppressing his emotions, was gone as Rags let out a low moan and looked away. More tears poured out and the area around his eyes became red from his wiping and tears. Robber looked pain at having caused Rags to become even more upset. He started talking again after a brief pause, his words taking on a rambling quality ¡°But it is going to be okay. I will kill the monster then it will be all better, you can go back home. I promise.¡± Said Robber with felt sincerity. Rags reactionarily distrusted the words, the possibility of their being genuine entered consideration only to the extent whereby its impossibility was affirmed. The idea that Robber could be anything other than absolute evil was just lies. The likely chance that any who knew Robber would agree that he would betray his word for his self-interest was conclusive evidence for Rags that there was no chance he meant his words at all. Rags was out to express his thoughts in the vilest words he knew when he saw something behind Robber that caused him to scream! Robber, with over a decade of experience in ambushing, had already spun around when he saw the growing white Rag¡¯s eyes. His hammer was already mid-swing, despite being at the height of possible human reaction, Robber was not quick enough as he was knocked to the side. Rags stood transfixed, staring in the horrid yet beautiful eyes. The contradictory pull of flight and curiosity the unreconcilable desire to both flee and keep looking gripped him. He noticed dimly that it has the sleek and smooth skin of the darkest black creating a thick outline from the shadows created by the torch¡¯s glare. It stood on four legs, claws had extended longer and sharper and knives. It was above both, immense in the presence it cast from its size and clear purpose. It open its mouth and bared its fangs the whites shinning purer than a priest¡¯s cloth, the rank smell of consumed flesh flowing freely. Robber attacked again, this time his hammer landing as he tried to crush one of its legs to little effect. Rags noticed the blood that dripped profusely from his open wounds horizontal cuts along his chest and belly. Most of his weapons had been dropped to the floor. It turned around and swiped again at Robber, it grazed his shoulder. With a burst of speed he fled to the crack, it followed Robber dove through narrowing avoiding death. He gave out a bellow before his dive. ¡°Run!¡± Rags confused and terrified through the torch at it, and the torch fell far short. Then he did run, in his panic straight into the rocky wall of the sides of the cavern. It looked at Rags, a sniff then dashed into the shadows back from whence it came. A Light in the Dark A sharp, sudden pain flashed in Rags¡¯s head as he began to wake up, dazed. Fortunately, it was dark so much so he couldn¡¯t see the cavern roof from the thick blackness of the lightless interior of the stone labyrinth. If he had looked behind him the faint glimmer of moonlight still shone and far ahead awaited him¡­ a flame. The dark and quiet was a comfort to Rags. The absence of things can allow briefly a tranquillity of the mind before idleness turns the mind in onto itself. He quickly grasped the situation: his survival and the disappearance of Robber and Beast and the confusion, briefly abated. His turmoil began once more with the thought of why he was still alive? He spent a while laying there tormented as he tried to work out the logic of why he was still alive and if that was in fact what he wanted. The idea of chance, of his lack of control, was foreign to his thinking. The cause he was sure was him, somehow it was his fault he lived. He just didn''t have an explanation that made sense yet. With another stroke of good fortune Rag''s attention settled on his surrounding. This fortune was of little benefit to the distorted ponderings of the child''s mind cast of from awareness of the body and riddled with errors. He questioned how much better would it be if there was nothing but darkness. No pesky light, to see more, no more possibilities. In the dark, out of the light, he could stop. He could, he believed reach an end. Run out of history with the movement of an experienced hand telling the disinterested eyes of time the son had died a foolish child trapped in the dark. The last thought, the final word of his life was approaching. It had to be over soon. No more Robber, no more beast and fear, no more pain. A sound invaded his musing, it pulled him out of his himself. ¡°Greeting, young one and blessing of ¡­ upon you.¡± Spoke a deep voice, with the quality of one trained and practised in public speech. ¡°Good, em, day,¡± answered Rags after taking in the figure holding a small candle on a brass tray. The figure wore a long robe cut at the hands and ankles. Rags guessed that it had been as white as clouds once but now had been mostly blackened and scrapped. The features of the figure were hard to discern as the light was held at the waist and near arm¡¯s length away. ¡°How hard is the ¡­ ¡®s way, for one as young as yourself to have faced such misfortunes. Look at your rags. Alas, I am here. The ¡­ is wise indeed, you may have thought yourself forsaken by ¡­.. But now the reason for my endless wanderings in this dark place has been clear. Come young one, is there anything you need, now that I have found you the way out will be near enough. ¡­ our purpose, our meeting has occurred.¡± Rags¡¯ stomach rumbled loudly the sound echoing a little in the tunnel. ¡°Ah, what a sound. A healthy sound, soon the sound of a healthy and happy child.¡± Said the figure putting a hand inside the robe and pulling out a biscuit. ¡°Here, child eat.¡± The figure said kindly. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Taking the biscuit he devoured it without reserve. ¡°A healthy appetite, this is well, good child.¡± He said and pulled out another biscuit. ¡°Have another.¡± Which the child swallowed in large bites. ¡°That is all, I have only a few left. Praise ¡­ to feed us on the rest of our time in... Trial. Yes, most unexpected has my time spent here been, but fortunate of course now that I have met you, good child. For I will take you out of the dark and into the light. Myself too of course as well. Now that you are here ¡­ will put us on the right track finding you must be the reason I have been kept here lost.¡± ¡°I am most grateful for your generous meal and aid, priest.¡± He paused, tilted his head as if listening to his own words. A smile faint and swift lived for a moment. He sounded right at least, normal again. ¡°I can tell you the way out, I think.¡± He began again. ¡°As much as any words can be trusted by those spoken in shadows. Yet while the Dark is rightly fought, of course, it is in as Jorik said in shadows and sleep where all people are equal. Knowing this, and that I will not follow, for if I will now, I know no shame or pride may pierce fear and despair that dogs me. My life lies towards possible death. The flame at the... Must be extinguished. I came with others needs as an excuse for glory, now my own need and your kindness ushers in renewed courage and energy.¡± ¡°My good child, you make no sense. Has darkness ailed your thoughts till your speech sounding that of a noble learnt speaks nonsense. Look at you, in rags and your mind broken. Alas, I am here.¡± Replied the Priest, patting Rag''s head with a playful ruffle. For Rags No words filled with such pity and concern has been spoken to him before. It caused an alarm yet the clarity of awareness of good but patronising intent behind the Priest''s words. ¡°Your kindness knows no bounds, Priest.¡± He spoke each word clearly, with a new force and a masked ferocity conveyed by a widening of the pupils and the biting of his teeth, he did not look at the Priest any longer but into the darkness. ¡°Do not let my clothes deceive you, they are a symbol of my survival. I have strived for glory and while my fate may be wretched I will not have my dignity questioned because of my misfortunes. I mean to extinguish the flame and complete my endeavour. Even if it means facing whatever prowls these caverns.¡± ¡°The unknown, ah how brave you are to face it, child. Once we are out of here (now?), I will personally teach you in the way of ¡­ You will be certain then of who you are, a learned man you will be.¡± A flash of fury appeared and the flush of red burned on his cheek. Rags noticeable took a few deep breaths. ¡°I am Brandon Son of... And..., I am already learned. I know the histories going back to the ancients and cultures spanning the world, I have listened to debates by the greatest minds of the age on questions that will shape the generations to come and if you could grasp their meaning would banish your ignorance of nature and reliance on idols. I decline your request, but it does warm my heart to know as low as you think of me as my appearance and strange words no doubt warrant to your ears, you would expend great energy and learning on me. Your kindness, if not your ability to listen is well met. How blunt I am.¡± ¡°No, no child. You are tired and much distressed by your trials. Rest, I will keep watch.¡± Said the Priest, a wide smile on his wrinkled face. ¡°I am, tired. I will rest for a bit.¡± Said Brandon. He didn''t fall asleep right away, his eyes closed as soon as he curled on the hard floor. The effort to speak, the great feeling that had swelled and burst leaving uncertainty. His thoughts raced but warmed by the fire and the gentle humming of the Priest he drifted into a troubled sleep. Brandon and the Priest Brandon became aware again. It was pitch black this time around. The Priest''s stored breaking the silence. He did not feel like moving, even being awake felt troublesome to Brandon. He felt a dull, distant pain inside his head. The cool breeze on his skin. He focused on the latter and sat up. Groaning as aches appeared all over his pain. A flood of anger and resentment at his condition, at the stone beneath resentment, at himself. He wanted to go home. Back to being a proper child, to his soft maid and being attended to by servants. The bitterness of the situation sprang tears in his eyes and his face became red and his cheeks puffed. He had a good cry, in the dark. He felt better after, not great or happy but relieved if only for that moment. That everything had not been okay and that was just fine. No pandering to adults or the pity of strangers. He felt a measure of peace with himself for a brief while that it was perhaps not his or anyone''s fault and that sometimes in a big, confusing world it is okay to hurt. He had not noticed the Priest had stopped storing. Pity. He felt angry again. They were looking down on him again. ¡°You are awake.¡± That was all Brandon said his face hidden by the dark tensing and eyes flaring as he spoke in an accusatory tone. ¡°Just now, I woke that is, just now.¡± The Priest replied, still waking clumsily. ¡°Of course.¡± Answered Brandon in such a way it was not clear he either believed or disbelieved the words spoken by the Priest. There was silence as they at different paces got up. ¡°Can you start a fire?¡± asked Brandon. ¡°Yes, yes child.¡± He replied still unnerved and with a few strikes of flint and steel had lit another light. With more candle wax. They had taken two steps when Brandon stopped and spoke. ¡°So, Priest. Did you go through an open cavern on your way here?¡± ¡°Do you mean if I could see the sky?¡± Brandon nodded. ¡°No, only the light I have had is from candles for days now.¡± Brandon fell silent. He moved quickly and the Priest only had time to stumble back before Brandon had squeezed the tiny flame from the candle. The Priest splutters in surprise but the dryness of his throat left no spit to fly. ¡°You wished to know the way out? If I recall correctly.¡± Asked Brandon with a focus and direct tone common to the nobility. ¡°Child, this is no place for the children of...¡± ¡°I agree, walk without light. It is a trick, of some sort I know not how. In darkness and so long as you keep track of your turns, you will make it out.¡± ¡°Light, a trick? Explain child.¡± ¡°As I said.¡± He replied frustrated. ¡°I cannot. I do not even have proof. All I know is a line. All fire return to the hearth. It was inscribed on the entrance.¡± ¡°Those strange symbols!¡± ¡°Runes, elvish but who carved it, I cannot even imagine. No dark elf would side with such destructive magic as the flame of... It would be suicide for them.¡± ¡°Child, do you speak true?¡± said the Priest as he clasped his arm. ¡°Remember to always go left first on the way back. If you do that and walk without light you will return to the surface¡± he replied. ¡°Come with me, Child.¡± ¡°There is no light. I do not know the route, it will not be the way you came not the way I did. But there are many ways in but only one way out. In the darkness, you will find it.¡± ¡°Why?¡± the Priest asked. ¡°I am able.¡± ¡°You are a child!¡± ¡°A child taught by elves in the way of magic. My carer since birth, and her daughter. Of life and death. I sought more. The dark Elves, priest, I have learned from them magic and more. Of light and dark. I sought to help them. To extinguish a flame that would kill them. I alone, my chance for glory. Now I seek only to do what I can. What will benefit? But I heard my doom, I faltered yes but if I stop, no onwards. One spell, if I am swift before...¡± Brandon rambles but the priest broke in. ¡°Such words, you are a brave child. Your determination dignifies you. Do not let the hubris that brought you here take you. You faltered, you saw evil! You saw that this is not the right way. You found the way out when I could not, now walk it with me. Come back to the light.¡± ¡°I will go on, I must go on. How many will die, before another race helps? One not bound to perish in the light of that cursed flame.¡± ¡°It is not your responsibility. Look out for yourself, not these others. You do not owe them your life. Fear death child, you will die unworthy of h... Dying for elves in a cave, pursuing dreams of glory.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°If God is true, I can believe it no longer. I deny it, I must. With what I see and feel, with all these thoughts that spring out unbidden. The pain that won¡¯t go away, those thoughts that come back no matter how much you wish them away. Oh, how nice it must be to believe, I see otherwise, I see the suffering that cannot be explained. It matters not, I care not, let silence reign. Cease the word, no more dialogue, the song goes unsung! Be quiet all the weight of all those wishes, all the pointless suffering, I can no longer bear it! We are godless, with no end to strive for, just the endless appetite of us foul creatures. Never to be satisfied, never!¡± ¡°You speak heresy!¡± ¡°Those who see in black and white drown in darkness. I know, I have breathed that blackness.¡± ¡°Enough!¡± he shouted by started coughing. ¡°I have known priests many such as you whose wise words become burdens from the deception. My voice may crack as a boy becoming a man but I have conversed with Weightlesses. They were priests too. Faria who¡¯s perservaence and ability was peerless and Myriel whose integrity and boundless compassion saved many burdened. You are a deceiver. You forget the greatest moral act is to benefit others even if it cost our desires. You like me, act to benefit the self under the pretence of charity. I am young and thus privileged to see such a bright reality, time should I live will ease such weights." "Even I can see why, talk you do, talk, talk talk. Silence ought to be your model. Listen to those that suffer. You may yet learn. How tired I am, such pain, I ramble to keep the Word. Ignore me, priest, you are right. I am beaten, my mind is broken, I bear rags. The Weight will crush me, but not yet. I rode off wise but deceived by experience, now I will walk a fool with a new lie but lighter than I was before.¡± The Priest stood silent, eyes widened and mouth open. Brandon wasn''t done. ¡°You acts are good, kind Priests. Your words fouled not with rudeness but... It comes from bad thoughts. I too have bad thoughts. The dark for ones of light such as I and the loneliness, how oppressive it causes such badness. Even in the light, with nobles over peasant, a man over women, dodly over the godless, elf over human, and those such as you the priests deceiving all to make them for your ends. Society is the carer and cage of all. It has no end and makes all as people make themselves. This is our second nature. Society is the great deceiver, our reality and of reality. But if it is deceiving how can light be good and darkness evil?¡± ¡°You lose sight of yourself, Child. The act of deception is but your denial of your pain. Why are you unhappy? Why do you think you must sacrifice yourself? What will glory relieve you of? Speak you are not alone, you do not have to bear the burden of your thoughts alone.¡± This time, it was Brandon who was silent. Tears poured one at a time forced out and constrained by a last act of resistance. To retain control and to try and say to himself all is fine. He tried to answer but his throat only tightened. He sought water but there was none, or a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. He felt helpless. The Priest handed over a piece of cloth to both without saying a word. Brandon wiped his eyes and blew his nose. ¡°What keeps you silent? You already know the answer.¡± ¡°My teacher, he died years ago. I have nothing to prove. It is something else.¡± Brandon broke out into more sobbing. ¡°I don''t know.¡± ¡°Let the world in, feel it sense it, all the things and words. Out of the darkness and into the light. Be aware of reality however distant. Become alive again go out of being the mind in of itself, feel your body, hear and see the everything around you.¡± Brandon stared at him, with a stillness and silence that conveyed his bleak despair. That he had given up on himself. That his effort was a product of immense mental struggle. That even if he could agree he had no idea how to even grasp and do what was being asked of him. The mixture of relief from the compassion and the raw pain of having to face his trauma was overwhelming. ¡°What is traumatising you so?¡± ¡°I don''t want to die.¡± He stopped. ¡°He angered the wrong noble. Drunk they knocked him, not even intentionally a stumble and he flew and he was hit and... When I heard. I feel so helpless and weak. Not able to do anything.¡± ¡°It was sudden and criminal.¡± ¡°Yes, he was charged and everything, even if he was a noble. Hard labour in the mines for a year. A tough sentence but it shouldn''t kill him, he can redeem himself for his...¡± ¡°You have done well, Child. It is good to talk, a massive achievement.¡± ¡°Foolish, forgiven mistake,¡± Brandon muttered almost voicelessly and the Priest did not pick up on it. ¡°Are you angry at this person?¡± ¡°Sometimes yes, now that it hurts, yes. Mostly no.¡± ¡°Was he a strong and stable presence in your life?¡± ¡°Yes, reliable. Always working on something every action helped someone, our loved ones in some way. I never knew, didn''t notice till he was gone.¡± ¡°People heal differently. Loss hurts. Sorrow follows from pain. Hate from sorrow. Fear from hate. Most people by their loved ones are encouraged to face their fear, then we teach them to forgive they feel sad but it passes and so them the pain becomes bearable.¡± ¡°Forgive the fool I can do, forgive myself. To stop hating, the not feel the shame the badness every day. What a dream that would be.¡± ¡°It can be so with reason and compassion. Your loved one, would they not want you to love yourself?¡± ¡°I would give my happiness to see him again and well and happy. To return the past and make it present again. To spend another day, reading books under the shade of the oak tree from the sun or in the library with a cup of tea. What I would give and bargain for to have him back. To spare his partner the grief and all his students the hardship of working without his guidance.¡± ¡°Can you?¡± ¡°I... i don''t know.¡± Brandon sobbed, the tears coming despite his resistance as sadness welled up and filled his being and eventually stopped. He felt different. Relaxed yet new thoughts flicker like the sparks of dancing flames into the awareness of his mind and a slight tension if the muscle reformed. They stood in silence until Brandon tears ceased. ¡°Can you accept support to foster a compassionate view of your soul? To develop a realistic view of the soul through reason.¡± The Priest asked gently fixing eye contact with Brandon. ¡°If it helps, then yes.¡± He replied. ¡°Goodwill we start with meditation practice.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Sit down, comfortably but with a straight back.¡± They both sat legs crossed back straight. ¡°Breathe... Now we are going to not do anything. Non-striving. Focus on your breath.¡± They breathed for a while. ¡°You can close your eyes to help you focus, to begin with,¡± Brandon closed his eyes and they breathed for a while longer. ¡°You may have thoughts, this is natural. When you notice you have strayed from your breath pull back and focus back into your breath.¡± They continued to breathe. ¡°Run. Now!¡± screamed a shrill voice. Out of the Dark Nephew''s eyes opened and he immediately sprung to his feet and looked towards the voice. The Priest was slower but got up as an armoured figure came crashing towards them. The figure tackled Brandon to the ground again while drawing a sword they turn around and gave a wild swing in a one hundred eighty degree arc. Nephew lay wounded the breath forced out of his body by the figure¡¯s impact it¡¯s shoulder crushed his sternum as they had hit the ground. Gasping in the air by the time he felt able, he noticed the Priest was dead. So too was the Robber. He had chains around his wrists. Both lay still blood pouring out of fresh wounds. The armoured figure had cut the Beast across the belly and its roar of pain stunned the figure and Brandon. The Beast took the time to flee. ¡°Are you alright, Nephew?¡± asked the armoured figure. ¡°I¡¯m alive, Aunt.¡± He grunts looking up at the armoured figure. ¡°How do you feel?¡± ¡°I feel nothing.¡± ¡°Not possible, Nephew.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not an all-knowing, powerful warrior-scholar, what is it I feel then?¡± ¡°Fear and anger dwell in you. Until you face them, listen to them they will dominate you.¡± He tried to close off his feelings about the recent deaths and bid his suffering. She pressed him to open up and the trauma of the event for him. ¡°Will you help me?¡± ¡°Yes, if it is what you want, then you have my support.¡± ¡°It will kill us,¡± he replied his voice breaking but sure. ¡°To death, our lives have already happened. Not now but then, it makes no difference to death. It is just me, you and others who perceive us as alive. Let us spend these few moments we have well.¡± ¡°Say that to ¡­¡± ¡°You don¡¯t speak to death, there is no time to.¡± ¡°So, you just die then, that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°No, you face it, like the wise face pain or the ¡­ with love. As you are now and everything that you were and now will not be. Giving attention and being indifferent.¡± ¡°Your ramblings make no sense.¡± ¡°Wisdom often does, it is not normal after all.¡± ¡°How do you be indifferent, I¡¯m scared?¡± ¡°You do it first, by caring for what you can control, like yourself. Though the first act is often to care for others, those you love. Dwelling in their presence. Then you learn to care for yourself as they care for you. Then it is easier but never easy to let go of worries.¡± ¡°Easy to say.¡± ¡°Perhaps so, but they die with courage. Uncertain of what will be, often alone and ingloriously. Heroism like death doesn¡¯t have a face. To face the pain of dying and the uncertain, certainty of death. That is brave. If you can benefit another then you are a hero in my eyes ¡­¡± ¡°Life is hard I know¡± she adds. ¡°It is just all dark.¡± ¡°Fear is the only darkness.¡± ¡°It is painful to live, and others suffer so much. What is the point of it all?¡± ¡°If you thought that is all life was, we would not be speaking.¡± She replies. Their foreheads touch as her hands clasped either side of his face. ¡°You will die, no one can change that fate. I promise you, it will not be today. Many will go before you. You are scared and curious, I know. There is no rush, there is much life left for you. Do not discard your life because of knowledge about pain. I will protect you, Brandon. It is going to be okay.¡± Rags nods. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Let¡¯s go on.¡± He said. ¡°After the creature?¡± ¡°Into darkness and if I am right¡­ fire.¡± They walk in the darkness. There are many twists and turns but Nephew walked without hesitation. He let himself be pulled and in turn pushed into the pain and followed his whims. ¡°How do you know the way?¡± she asks. ¡°Everyone knows the way to death. It is more difficult to keep someone ignorant than to not hear its call.¡± ¡°Death is not alive. It can hardly make calls.¡± ¡°You know what I mean, you have to listen.¡± ¡°Death does not exist. Matter merely reforms; the extension of all remaining. The difference is sensual. Death becoming is a perception.¡± ¡°It is no less real than to I or you. Nor does it deny the call I hear to struggle and live or the stench of corpses.¡± ¡°No, I suppose not. Perhaps, spend time listening to music than death. Life is so short to spend all your attention on the future.¡± ¡°Listening is like dice, to progress you have to try and take the risk. But fortune determines the outcome. You get sixes great, ones terrible and life continues beyond your control. And what do you learn? You only see some of the dice and part is always concealed. To listen is to know and to fail to know. To listen to nature is to listen to everything, and people are rarely wise and kind enough that you roll sixes often In my case, I roll hear death.¡± ¡°Listening is to do nothing, it is the erasure of I and you. There are no boundaries of touch that reach skin deep, no history of touches. Where sight befuddles with complexity and detail to hear is to locate the presence of trace their relations from the ear to the stars. Where touch speaks to relations of force, to listen is to unbind from the will of authority and hear those who cannot speak. Where smell speaks to pride and shame listening does beyond. To listen to notes the movement of passions and the indifference of matter to the speaker of wishes.¡± ¡°Death is indifferent to my wishes. On that, we agree.¡± ¡°Stop.¡± He declares. ¡°A fire?¡± Ahead is a glimpse of light, and the grunting sounds of a beast. ¡°We can turn back.¡± She whispers. ¡°Logic dictates action. If we do nothing the immortals die. We die anyway but they live older than mountains. How can we justify the cost of our paltry lives in comparison to them?¡± ¡°Life requires no justification. It is not the prisoner of reason and knowledge. It formed before the speech and writings and it will have reformed in easily in the song of nature long after language has ended.¡± She insists. ¡°They are my teachers, I owe them and I am eternally grateful for their support. How can I live with the shame of running in their darkest hour?¡± ¡°You learn with time and humility. A head bowed like the dust.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°So be it.¡± They stepped into the dome carved room. A single brazier stood in the centre surrounded by piles of treasure made up of art, gold, transparent orbs as well as jewels and other materials. A flame was lit at the brazier without a visible source. Crackling and showing the massive creature of tooth and claw. ¡°You are too late.¡± The voice emanated from the creature. ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked the Aunt. ¡°The Faerie tried their spell. They will be toasting to their success.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t do this.¡± Pleads Nephew with teardrops pouring. ¡°In their hubris, they have grown complacent. They once had the envy and ambition to become like the Gods. They succeed in their imitation. Now their feeble efforts have gifted me their undoing.¡± ¡°Please.¡± ¡°What is going on?¡± asks Aunt confused. ¡°The boy knows.¡± ¡°No!¡± screamed Nephew as the Beast swallowed the flame. In a bite, the immortals died. The passing witnessed by none; their salvation in the hands of a boy had failed. ¡°Now for my next feast.¡± ¡°Not today.¡± Shouts back Nephew. The Beast bounded over and the Aunt stepped in front of the boy and the creature blew an icy breath. Her body grew pale and her limbs stiff, the cold gnawed and she bent both knees and placed them on the ground her shins parallel in a mediative pose her hands claps palms facing upwards at her belly. ¡°Death and light are illusions of sight. Before knowledge and courage, there is life and darkness. The dark is ever-present weight binding all beings and life reforms with the very act of destruction. There is but the Weight and the Song. And the Song shall not go Unsung!¡± she spoke her voice cracking and fading until silence, ending with a booming call. The Beast consumed the fading ash of the proud guardian. The boy scooped up an orb as the Beast feasted. The boy turned around and there it was; the Beast raised a claw and slashed. The beast spoke ¡°You bear my mark. I will come for you soon. When I am ready.¡± ¡°No, no!¡± ¡°But today. Flee!¡± roared the beast and it lunged at him. With the strike of the claw, the orb was cut, a chunk flying off. He scrambled out of the way and to the exit and the orb lit up with the luminance of a star. He ran with the glowing light of the orb shining the cavern walls of black rock and dripping water. He kept running till his breath stopped but he felt the breath of the beast and bolted. He sprinted till his legs felt weak but he felt the claw of the killer; he ducked and crawled away. He snuck till he felt the tongue of the terror; he wailed and blinded it with the light and fled to dawn. The brilliance of the rising sun dimmed the orb and the transparent crystal shattered. ¡°How?¡± He croaked and the gentle spring breeze answered with a brush against his cheek. ¡°Alone.¡± He whispered and was answered with the songs of the birds. ¡°In the face of death and deceit, and of the suffering on the earth, how do I enjoy the life I am compelled to live?¡± Said the last living body to emerge from the darkness and he was answered with silence.