《Arach》 Chapter 1 - Arach Chapter One - Arach A man found himself looking down upon the world. He had spent the last five years perfecting this world. Yet he was frowning. In front of him was an old woman. Her wrinkles were deeply inset, and her skin was a sickly grey. The man looked at the world below, then back at the old woman. As his frown deepened, he asked, ¡°Why me? Why not her?¡± His voice was smooth, alluring, almost as if it could draw the listener in without effort. The woman shook her head. In a scratchy voice she responded. ¡°No no no. I¡¯ve already tried that old batty!¡± Her face turned slightly angry. ¡°She would have been perfect, too! She turned me down without even thinking about it! Even before I finished asking she was saying no!¡± The man lightly scoffed. It¡¯s not that she didn¡¯t think of it. She more time to think of it than you¡¯ve likely been alive. ¡°Still. Why me?¡± The old woman sighed. ¡°Because you are my only hope. I need someone to represent me. I¡¯ve made many bad choices, and my power is waning. Please.¡± The man continued to frown. He had ¡®changed¡¯ himself for the better over these past several years. If he accepted her offer he would be throwing away everything he had worked towards. ¡°Look,¡± the man continued, ¡°I¡¯ve been outside of this game several times now, on good behavior you see. I will know if this is a lie. Or just some fraud.¡± He gave the woman a piercing look. Without flinching she nodded. ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡± ¡°And this will truly grant me complete freedom?¡± She hesitated for a moment, but the nodded. ¡°Except for the fact that you would be representing me.¡± The man composed himself. His eagerness at complete freedom, was only slightly outweighed by the caution he felt. I¡¯ll know it if this is a fraud. There is no real reason to disagree. Something just feels ¡­ wrong. The woman they referred to was the absolute god of this realm. She could read and manipulate the mind of any being within her realm. Except for one. The man floating in front of the old woman. He had long ago gotten into the inner workings of this universe. He had partitioned his mind away from hers. ¡°Fine but you must sign this.¡± He produced a written scroll. On the scroll suddenly appeared hundreds of lines of red ink, detailing the contract. ¡°This is a soul contract. Should you fail your end of the bargain, your soul will be mine to control.¡± The old woman¡¯s eyes went wide, before gazing at the contract. After reading it she slowly nodded, and infused the final line on the contract with her power. Not that it is likely going to be able to hold any power over her. He thought to himself. The haggard, scratching voice rang out again. ¡°Very well, since we have finished the details, it¡¯s time to go.¡± As if to herself, she whispered, ¡°Hopefully the council lets me use him.¡± She opened her hand. A black orb quickly expanded from her open palm. Its size swelled until it encapsulated both. As it began shrinking, the world around them began to shake. Soon the black orb disappeared altogether, as did any trace of the two entities. --- Sunlight flitted between the windows in a spacious room. The mid-morning sun cast long shadows around the figures therein. Around a circular dais were situated a dozen chairs. The men and women sitting in the chairs seemed to be amused. One person, a large muscular man, looked as serious as the others did mocking. ¡°Are you sure you want this thing to be your Chosen? It will be the last time. Should you lose this Turn, your power will dissipate.¡± The beautiful, toned, woman on his right said in a mocking tone. ¡°Orpheus, there¡¯s no reason to try to dissuade her. Her Chosen ones have been dropping in quality each Turn.¡± The man referred to as Orpheus ignored her. ¡°Are you sure?¡± The old woman, the only one standing. Nodded her head. Orpheus shook his. ¡°You realize you are sending a golem to fight against Chosen?¡± The old woman again nodded her head. The man to Orpheus¡¯ left let out a bellowing laugh. ¡°NO! She is sending a golem made by a golem! It¡¯s not even made by human hands! How it¡¯s supposed to grow from infancy is beyond me! HAHAHA!¡± Orpheus silently stared at the old woman, until she was forced to turn away. ¡°Very well,¡± he stated solemnly. ¡°The golem shall be your Chosen. Any disagreements?¡± He looked around, only to be met with uproarious laughter from each of the others. With anger evident on his face. He stomped his foot. The massive force caused the entirety of the room to rumble loudly. The others in the room quickly silenced themselves. ¡°Any disagreements?¡± He repeated in an authoritative tone. One by one the members in the room responded with ¡°None.¡± ¡°Endrine, what is your boon to your chosen?¡± The old woman, Endrine, did not think of for more than a moment. ¡°I want his memories erased until he can no longer live a normal childhood life, or until he grows into a man.¡± ¡°So be it. For the forty-third Turn, Endrine¡¯s Chosen shall be this golem! Make his abilities that of a human until Endrine¡¯s conditions are met, reduce them to a tenth of a hundredth after, and let him be born!¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. --- Arach was born on a warm sunny morning. The heat of the day, and the birth of the unwitting child, caused deep moats of perspiration upon the mother¡¯s face as she gave birth. The room, filled with hectic midwives, was strewn with the various items labor required. Wet towels, hot water, and many many charms for good birth. ¡°Come on Delilah! Push! Really push!¡± One of the midwives, old and wrinkled with age, urged Delilah. The baby was crowning, just peaking its head out into the world. This was the most difficult part of childbirth, as if the entirety of childbirth weren¡¯t difficult enough already. With much pushing, and pained cries of the mother, the baby was out. The willful lungs of the babe filled the room. The midwife holding him, wiped him and handed him to his mother. ¡°It¡¯s a boy! Congratulations!¡± A man rushed in. He was a muscular 250 pounds, taller than the midwives by a head, and had deep brown hair with matching eyes. His body could have passed for military, had his face not been marred by the passage of time. ¡°Where¡¯s my son?¡± he exclaimed loudly upon entering. His eyes darted around the room, finally landing on his wife and child. He sighed to himself, a sigh of contentment. ¡°Good, it¡¯s a boy. His name will be Arach.¡± The midwives helped tidy up the woman, a disheveled but joyful mess, then left. Not long after they left the man began screaming for them to come back. Something was wrong! His heart pounded like a heard of horses. His wife was jerking intensely, as if some demon had possessed her. ¡°WAIT! Somethin¡¯s wrong! Somethin¡¯s wrong with Delilah!¡± He placed the baby on the nearby bed and rushed to get the midwives. --- Arach was a rambunctious child. He was only six, but always getting into something. ¡°Pa? The town fair is tomorrow. Can we go?¡± He asked his father after a long day in the fields. They had just finished gathering the last of the crops before winter. Arach always had energy. It seemed like no matter what he did he could keep going. He was almost jumping as he asked his father. His father, now a grim looking man, simply nodded. Since he wife died after giving birth, he had been much less joyous. There was rarely a day that would see him smile. Arach went to sleep, hopeful dreams of tomorrow floating in his mind. When he awoke, he was greeted by the most unpleasant surprise. ¡°Pa! It¡¯s time to head to town!¡± The sun had already begun painting the sky with its purple and oranges. The animals had begun to stir from their dwellings, announcing their wakefulness to the world. Usually Arach¡¯s father would be the first one up. Arach made his way from the small bedroom his father had made in preparations for his birth and entered his father¡¯s room. Arach¡¯s movements stopped when he entered his father¡¯s room. ¡°Pa? Pa! Wake up Pa!¡± His subconscious was already forming what was happening. But his conscious mind would not accept it. ¡°PA! GET UP!¡± In a rush of adrenaline and fear, he slapped his father, hard, in the face. ¡°Wake up!¡± He knew it was already too late. His father¡¯s body, graying through its haze of death, was already cold. Its soul had left. Something broke inside Arach that day. Arach had been blessed by the goddess Endrine. He had memories of a past life locked away. But the priests did not know how to unlock. The only reason it was a blessing, and not a curse, was that he had the smell of healing holy magic exuding off his body so potently that a curse was impossible. When that thing broke inside him, his memories of his past life returned. Everything that had happened before, in the other world. Even his agreement to come to this world. The memory of a hundred lifetimes outweighed the six years of life Arach had. They outweighed and consumed. This new entity, the one that had taken control of Arach¡¯s body, flexed himself. ¡°She was right. I really am not in that world anymore. I¡¯m free. I¡¯m free!¡± He jumped in the air, springing up as high as he could go. Inches off the ground. What? What happened to my body? He knew he was in the form of a six-year-old, but he should be able to do more than that, surely. He closed his eyes and sent a tendril of mana through his body. Unlike the fluid motion of complete obedience, what he got was a clunky imitation. The mana in his body, barely more than a drop compared to the other world, seemed murky and miniscule in amount. No, it was less than a drop. It was a chaotic mess and could have been easily absorbed by his other self without paying attention. He could normally tell the exact details of his body, but now could only vaguely sense his abilities. His physical abilities were all far less than they should have been. It couldn¡¯t tell exactly how bad it was, but he had the body of an average child. He forced the world to slow down. This was his trademark skill in the other world. It slowed down to a crawl. Instantly the information surrounding him came into his mind. Instead of the flow of absolute information he was used to, only a small bit of information appeared. The density of the dirt, and how much friction it provided. The worst part about it was he felt the mana being drained from his body. It had never done so before, why would it require mana now? His vision turned black as he felt his body hit the loose dirt. The smell of rotten paper and stale water entered his nose following the dirt kicked up by his fall. ¡°Arach! Wake up boy!¡± Arach shook his head. Huh? Wha- Oh crap! My powers! The man before Arach, noticed his sudden jump, and look of alarm. The man was strongly built, with the look of a weathered warrior, looked down kindly at Arach. ¡°Don¡¯t worry boy, we took care of your pa¡¯s body. What happened?¡± Arach was laying on a bed, his faint memory of this life led him to believe he was in the smith¡¯s house. ¡°What happened?¡± He repeated the question in a daze, the side effect of mana depletion. I ran out of mana! The intense look of alarm made the smith all the more determined to hear the story. Arach realized, after looking at the smith¡¯s face, that the smith was mistaking his look of alarm as one of worry for whatever had ¡®happened¡¯. Thinking fast, and with his memory of these town¡¯s folk, he came up with a reply. ¡°A dark wizard! A dark wizard was at the farm. He used Pa for an experiment. We have to get help!¡± The melancholy that appeared on the smith showed how much he had cared about Arach¡¯s father. ¡°Listen boy, there¡¯s no sense running in to trouble. Your pa is gone, we can¡¯t change that. But if you go runnin¡¯ off after some fool¡¯s errand and die, what will that get? Two dead bodies instead of one. That¡¯s what! No, you¡¯ll stay here, the missus and I¡¯ll think of somethin¡¯ to help you.¡± With a stern look, the smith headed downstairs. I think that he believed me. Acting wasn¡¯t hard for Arach, his last life had been full of deception. He was usually on the giving end of it. What about my blessings? Can I still bless myself? He realized terms like ¡®blessing¡¯ and ¡®ability¡¯ weren¡¯t what he usually used. But the other words would not come to mind. Then he remembered. He and the goddess had made a pact. He would forget large portions of what happened in the other world in exchange for his freedom. He would remember some things though. He was a golem, crafted by a golem that had become a god. As Arach steadied his mind, he tried to think of the best-case scenario. He couldn¡¯t give away he was from another world. That was one of the rules of this game of the gods. He could allow his power to flourish if he wished, but not speak of the other world under any circumstance. If he did, the gods would destroy his soul, not even letting him into the cycle of reincarnation. Then the best choice is to leave. If I accidentally let anything slip, his body shivered at the thought. He was weak. These beings, these ¡®gods¡¯, held much more power than he did. Arach decided to leave right then. With a deep breath he closed his eyes. He was sensing mana. He was trying to sense mana. He was failing at sensing mana. What? Why can¡¯t I sense the light mana around me? All mana was categorized into sections. He was trying to sense one section of that mana, but found nothing. He mentally made a list, and prepared to go about it.
  1. Come up with a viable reason for what happened at the farm.
  2. Sense mana outside of his body.
  3. Find out why his abilities are so shackled compared to his last life.
  4. Increase the fitness of his mind and body once he finds out.
And finally,
  1. Keep his end of the bargain to Endrine.
Hey guys, this is the continuation of the story Dive I promised a while back. Things are getting a bit easier at school, so I finally have time to post. As always, comments and ratings are appreciated. Ratings are especially good once the story gets started since I am hoping the critiques from them will help enhance my abilities as a writer a step further. Enjoy! Chapter 2 - The Peddler Chapter Two ¨C The Peddler Arach knew he could not leave. If he did, without being able to sense mana, he would most likely be torn to shreds by the basic wildlife of this world. So, he made his first order of business to come up with a reasonable excuse for what happened at the farm. While thinking, he sat down to meditate. His eyes were closed, but his mind was open. He sent out his thoughts, trying to touch upon the world in a way that no one could with only the five basic senses. With a sweep of his mind he looked upon the light inside his body. This light was total mana his body contained. It was weak, weaker than any other time in his life, except for perhaps when he was first created. The distinct types of mana were nowhere to be seen. Instead a murky gray conglomeration of swirling colors was all he had. He inwardly sighed. I have to purify all of my mana, all over again. Purifying mana was an extensive process. It was one that required a lot of time and even more hard work. Not to mention actually traveling to places with high concentrations of those mana types. It was a long process which involved separating each type of mana to be used separately. He spent the next hour trying to sense the presence of light mana, but to no avail. Arach shook his head. Since it was getting late, and light scarcer, he chose to leave this room and see what was happening to the smith and his wife. Downstairs the smith¡¯s wife was talking to the baker. The baker, a lanky woman with blonde hair, was seated across the kitchen table from the smith¡¯s wife. A beaming smile spread from the baker¡¯s eyes. Talia, the smith¡¯s wife, whispered to her friend, ¡°Suzy, I think there is something Arach isn¡¯t tellin¡¯ us. There is no way a dark wizard wouldn¡¯ know tha was alive. I think we should get Aaron ta walk down ta his farm. He could find something.¡± Suzy, shaking her head, sighed. In an almost lilting voice, she replied, ¡°Talia, Arach just went through somethin¡¯ awful. You can¡¯t blame him for lyin¡¯. He just needs some rest, then we can get everthin¡¯ outta him.¡± Crap. If they are going to interrogate me, I need to leave. If I let anything slip¡­ Arach shuddered at the thought. He went back to the room he was sleeping in and laid down. Come on. You have to sense something. You can¡¯t stay here any longer. Arach talked himself up, then began meditating. He sent out what meager amount of mana he had, into the air around him. The light around him dimmed, as did the light mana. But as the light dimmed, the darkness grew. Darkness, the antithesis of light, was likewise endowed with a type of mana. It was the mana of death, of decay, and of corruption. Arach, being a near-god level being in his previous world, was well acquainted with many types of mana, of energy. He lay there for hours, unable to find any traces of the mana that he knew must surely be there. Before long it was late into the night. He fell asleep, still trying to sense for mana. As the sun crested the hills to the east, warming the skies above, Arach was awoke by the sounds of footsteps. Heavy they were, and filled with determination. In a moment his door was thrown open. ¡°Arach!¡± The smith bellowed, ¡°You¡¯re comin¡¯ out today. There¡¯s no reason ta be cooped up in this room. There¡¯s a tradin¡¯ fair! Ya¡¯ve always loved those. So ya don¡¯t getta be sad today.¡± I guess this is his way to try to cheer me up. I might as well go, maybe I can find something to help me. Arach nodded, then noticed that someone had put clothes out for him to wear during the night. He quickly donned them, then walked downstairs. The smith, Horst, was waiting patiently at the bottom. ¡°Let¡¯s get goin¡¯.¡± Horst nodded at Arach. Arach followed quietly. He was deep in thought. He realized he could no longer stay here as he had hoped. He had to leave, but how? A memory from his other life, before he remembered who he was, resurfaced. Oh, that¡¯s reasonable. There is an old story teller. She might know about mana. Endrine told me magic wasn¡¯t extremely rare.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. They arrived at the fair after a few minutes of walking. The sun, now fully risen, began baking the ground. The heat of midmorning caused most of the fair goers to form at least a small amount of sweat. Horst suddenly turned around and looked deeply at Arach. Horst¡¯s burly hand stretched out towards Arach. ¡°Take it. It was your pa¡¯s. It was the only thing worth taking from your home.¡± In his hand he held a bag of coins. Arach looked at it, are realized again that his ability to sense information in the surroundings was much more limited than before. Arach took the bag and weighed it in his palm. Horst spoke once more. ¡°There¡¯s a dozen coins in there. It should be able to buy you something nice, or something pretty for a lady, eh? Hehehe.¡± Horst turned and walked away, even as he laughed at his own joke. Arach kept the coins in his loose-fitting clothes and headed for the storyteller. The storyteller¡¯s house was surrounded by passersby. The normally quiet area was now filled with the hubbub of buying and selling. Merchants lined their stalls along both sides of the wide road. Villagers surrounded the stalls, and filled the streets with ooh, and ahh. Arach avoided the crowd, and lightly knocked on the storyteller¡¯s door. The house, like the storyteller herself, was plain but sturdy. What was once a deep pine brown, was now a faded and dull dirt brown. The storyteller, Miss Cassandra, opened the door. She was an old and worn woman. Her pale skin, thin stature, and wrinkled face, denoted the passage of time she had endured. She squinted as she looked at Arach, as though it were difficult for her to make him out. ¡°Waddya want, eh? I ain¡¯t got time for no fair. So you can just beat it.¡± Arach hurriedly put his foot into the wedge of the door opening, afraid Miss Cassandra would close it. ¡°Miss Cassandra, wait. I have a question for you.¡± The door stopped closing, but didn¡¯t open further. Arach, taking this as a sign to continue, did. ¡°I had a question about magic, and I thought ya¡¯d be the best person ta ask. Ya seem to know everythin.¡± Arach spoke in the dialect of the boy. The old storyteller shook her head as she grumbled, ¡°You young people think you can just spit out your honeyed words and an old woman will do whatever you want.¡± She began walking inside her home, not bothering to close the door. She turned back after she had sat down, ¡°Well? What are you waiting for? Come in and sit if you want to hear a tale.¡± Arach entered. His previous self had only been in here a handful of times, and never for more than a moment. The inside was tidy, much tidier than one would expect from a time-worn old woman. There was only one chair, which sat by the fireplace. The single table in the room, a small tea table, sat directly next to the chair. ¡°I only have the one chair, so you¡¯re gonna have ta sit on the floor.¡± Arach nodded, and promptly did so. ¡°So, you want to learn about magic? That¡¯s a complicated subject. Much too complicated for one as young as you to understand. But I¡¯ll try. Magic is the ability ta use energy around us ta change the world. Those that can use magic are rare, but powerful. It could take one mage ta kill an entire group of armed men.¡± Arach interrupted. He didn¡¯t need some old batty¡¯s version of what magic is, or how powerful it was. He already knew that. He wanted to know how to use it. ¡°Yes, but how can somebody use magic?¡± His tone implored Miss Cassandra. ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt.¡± She gave him a stern look, then continued as though nothing happened. ¡°Well, ta answer your question¡­ I don¡¯t know. If I did I¡¯d be a magician myself. Or at least a hedge witch.¡± He listened to her rattle on about what magic was, and what some powerful people did with it in such and such year, before finally finding an excuse to leave. That was useless. I wasted the entire day. I need a way out of here, but I can¡¯t even use any magic. By the time Arach left Miss Cassandra¡¯s home, the twilight hours had settled in. The merchants had all but packed up, and were getting ready to move out. The caravan had already grouped up, and was about to head to bed. Arach made a sudden decision then. He would go to these people and barter passage with them. When they left in the morning, so would he. Looking out into the field near the village, Arach saw tents of various sizes. Most were large enough to house two or three people, but a few were big enough to house families. The chill of the night had begun to set in, and the warmth of the fires lit outside the tents drew many to idle chatter. Arach walked to a large tent and spoke. Although his voice was filled with tension, he tried to remain calm. ¡°Sir, sir please. Come out of your tent. I wish to speak with you. There was a pause. No one answered. The chill began setting in Arach¡¯s flesh, and he watched as an ember split from a camp fire, and slowly disappeared in the air. Finally, someone roughly pushed the tent-flap open. A burly man, with a thick coat of dark hair, came out. ¡°Who are you to come so late into my home?¡± The man sounded as if he were a king, or at least a nobleman. His air of pomp was second to none. Arach bowed, enough to hopefully please this man, but not enough to seem ingenuine. ¡°Hello lord. My name is Arach. My father passed last night, and I wish to barter passage with you.¡± Arach¡¯s hands felt the thick, old, leather of his belt as he released the pouch of gold. ¡°I have twelve coins. Will that be enough?¡± The bear-like man snatched the bag like a beggar at a feast. After glancing inside the bag, and testing the coins, the merchant smiled at him. ¡°Welcome to our Caravan Arach, my boy. You¡¯ll provide your own food and shelter, but we¡¯ll take you with us to the next town. We leave at dawn.¡±