Absolver of Rise and Ruin [An Absolver Fanfiction]
Prologue:
After the downfall of the Adal Empire, caused by the cataclysm that shook the entire continent of Ilenta, her fractured people struggle.
The Guides took control of the chaos, they may have provided a guiding light in difficult times, but be it to maintain order, keep newfound independence, or simply in vain attempts to gather more power and prestige, the people of Ilenta are never truly secure.
Can one ever be truly free?
After the downfall of the Adal Empire, caused by the cataclysm that shook the entire continent of Ilenta, her fractured people struggle.
The Guides took control of the chaos, they may have provided a guiding light in difficult times, but be it to maintain order, keep newfound independence, or simply in vain attempts to gather more power and prestige, the people of Ilenta are never truly secure.
Can one ever be truly free?
Comments
Chapter One: On Return
“Get up you pathetic mongrel!”“…”
“I said, GET UP!” A swift punt to the face of the boy knelt upon the ground had left him prone on the enriched black earth. The assailant picked him up and wiped away the blood and dirt from his face. “That patrol is soon to come, and if you don’t—”
“Tanril! They’re getting closer!” A man yelled, rushing from the bushes.
“Damn it!” She yelled, throwing the boy over her shoulder. “Open the trunk, Jarq! We’ll have to hope those Newforest dolts don’t look through the supplies.”
The man moved swiftly and opened the only intact container in the remains of the smashed cart. He deftly vaulted over the body of the boar the boy had dropped the cart on and managed to kill soon after.
Once Tanril bound the limp bleeding boy with fresh leather straps, Jarq picked him up and laid him in the chest as neatly as he could. Tanril then covered the half-open chest with a tarp and worked to hide the remnants of the mask that silenced the boy within the bushes, while Jarq climbed up the cliff face that shaded their makeshift encampment.
“This will have to do… How far away are they?” she asked Jarq, dusting her hands clean of dirt.
“Not far”
“Then get down from there. Start harvesting the body of that boar,” ordered Tanril.
Jarq leapt from the cliffside and ran over to the boar's corpse, knife in hand. “Stupid kid, shouldn’t have let him out of my sight. Why’d the suicidal idiot let himself get gored?” He complained as Tanril came up beside him.
“Too late now, Jarq. At this point, we just have to make sure to fool them.” Tanril responded, and joined Jarq in carving the massive beast, waiting for the inevitable encounter.
No sooner had she nearly stuck her knife into the boar, had a pair of masked strangers cut through the brush. The weapons these strangers held flashed, disappearing from their hands, as they pulled the distinctive blue and red cloaks draped over their shoulders from the thorns they were caught in.
Tanril’s eyes widened at the sight. Absolvers, she thought to herself, as she looked toward Jarq, discreetly motioning him to continue working. She began to stand, knife tucked away behind her.
“You. Tearans, explain the origin of the commotion.” Commanded one of the Absolvers, disdain dripped from every word that resonated from behind his mask.
“Well, we were just hunting this beast and he was caught off guard when it charged us,” responded Tanril in a dulcet voice, placing her hand on the carcass of the boar, pointing to Jarq.
“One can never be too sure when hunting these boars,” Jarq added, unamused by her response. “I must say I will never grow accustomed to these monsters' terrifying charges. Would you like a cut? It's fresh,” he said sarcastically, while he continued to butcher the animal.
The masks obscured any emotion that could be gleaned from the Absolver’s reactions. Tanril kept her posture relaxed, betraying her increasing worry as the silence crept on. The other Absolver walked forward towards the cart but stopped as blood splashed at his foot from Jarq’s direction.
“Sorry about that. Knife slipped,” he said, ominously.
The Absolver swaggered towards Jarq. “I do not fear blood staining my wear, Tearan,” he threatened.
Jarq stood at the provocation, rising to meet the Absolver’s gaze. The air turned cold as he tightened the grip on his knife.
Tanril quickly intervened, “Well, I’m sorry to cause such a distraction on your route. We were going to pass through, after harvesting this boar. I hope we didn’t take you away from whatever important task you must be doing.”
She walked around the boar, away from the cart, hoping to usher the pair of Absolvers away. They once again remained silent as they scanned the area. Seconds passed until the pair looked at each other, seemingly finding nothing of reproach, and turned to leave.
Relieved, she watched them pass when the cart abruptly crumpled on its side, the boy revealing himself as he flailed out from the trunk. When this occurred, Tanril grappled the unsuspecting Absolver to her front, leaving him open to attack as Jarq rushed forward stabbing him relentlessly, shredding his chest with every entry and exit.
The Absolver’s body fell to the ground and disappeared with a flash of glittery fractal light. Taken aback, the remaining Absolver summoned his weapon back into reality with a similar flash of geometric light and took a stance, ready to defend against the two attackers.
Jarq initiated the exchange, slashing out with the short blade he held, aiming to slice open the Absolver’s throat. The blade cleaved only through air, as the Absolver deftly dipped below the attack, responding with an elegant upward swipe of his blade as he rose.
Jarq stepped back in pain, and the Absolver moved to follow through with a stab. Tanril kicked his arm away before the sword made contact, and struck the Absolver in the head. The Absolver was briefly stunned by the blow, but he leaned forward in response, kicked his leg out, and struck Tanril up through her gut. She dropped to her knees, feeling something break.
Quickly turning to his other opponent, the Absolver leapt and twisted in the air as he kicked out, aiming for Jarq’s skull. The attack felt clean, however bracing for the impact, Jarq absorbed the force of the falling kick. Catching the Absolver in the air with a violent uppercut, Jarq sent the Absolver back to the ground.
Tanril quickly rose to intercept the fall with a vicious knee to his back, ignoring the searing pain at her side. The Absolver staggered forward reeling from the impact, but quickly got back into position.
As his enemies rushed toward him, the Absolver raised his fist to the air and slammed it to the ground. A light shone from the earth as it cracked and shook, forcing his foes to their knees.
The Absolver primed for a powerful strike. He torqued his body, his muscles tensed. He unleashed a kick that arced through the air, knocking them both to the ground, prone.
Taking the opportunity he created, he ran to the boy. “Follow the trail through the brush, do not stop until you hit the road, and then run to the east. NOW!” The Absolver commanded, as he desperately cut the boy’s bindings, seeing the other two had begun to recover. The boy spat blood at the mask of the Absolver but began to escape toward the trail nonetheless.
Turning back to his opponents, he ran his sword through the chest of the still-dazed Jarq. The impaled man let out a sharp whine, his breath leaving him as he fell, bleeding in the dirt. Tanril’s eyes widened at the sight. Furiously, she took Jarq’s knife and drove the blade into her enemy’s leg, slicing down to the heel as the Absolver dived out of the way.
She turned to face her opponent. Despite the damage the Absolver took in their bout, he remained steadfastly at the ready, waiting to face her. They stared at one another, unmoving, calculating what would be the best approach to finish this fight.
Tanril threw the blade she held at the Absolver, but he deftly avoided the attack, prepped to intercept her knee flying towards him. When the Absolver caught her leg he slammed her to the ground. Tanril however, had deceived the Absolver’s intuition and she plunged the knife she kept into his neck and ripped it from his throat. She rose back to her feet and paid no mind to the now-disappearing body of the Absolver.
“Tenacious brat,” Tanril whispered to herself, as she hobbled towards where the boy had gone. “Shouldn’t take too long to grab you again.” She continued down the path, following the boy’s tracks. The blood from his prior wounds occasionally dotted the foliage, marking every path he took, betraying his attempts to hide his heading.
Chapter One: On Return
“Get up you pathetic mongrel!”“…”
“I said, GET UP!” A swift punt to the face of the boy knelt upon the ground had left him prone on the enriched black earth. The assailant picked him up and wiped away the blood and dirt from his face. “That patrol is soon to come, and if you don’t—”
“Tanril! They’re getting closer!” A man yelled, rushing from the bushes.
“Damn it!” She yelled, throwing the boy over her shoulder. “Open the trunk, Jarq! We’ll have to hope those Newforest dolts don’t look through the supplies.”
The man moved swiftly and opened the only intact container in the remains of the smashed cart. He deftly vaulted over the body of the boar the boy had dropped the cart on and managed to kill soon after.
Once Tanril bound the limp bleeding boy with fresh leather straps, Jarq picked him up and laid him in the chest as neatly as he could. Tanril then covered the half-open chest with a tarp and worked to hide the remnants of the mask that silenced the boy within the bushes, while Jarq climbed up the cliff face that shaded their makeshift encampment.
“This will have to do… How far away are they?” she asked Jarq, dusting her hands clean of dirt.
“Not far”
“Then get down from there. Start harvesting the body of that boar,” ordered Tanril.
Jarq leapt from the cliffside and ran over to the boar's corpse, knife in hand. “Stupid kid, shouldn’t have let him out of my sight. Why’d the suicidal idiot let himself get gored?” He complained as Tanril came up beside him.
“Too late now, Jarq. At this point, we just have to make sure to fool them.” Tanril responded, and joined Jarq in carving the massive beast, waiting for the inevitable encounter.
No sooner had she nearly stuck her knife into the boar, had a pair of masked strangers cut through the brush. The weapons these strangers held flashed, disappearing from their hands, as they pulled the distinctive blue and red cloaks draped over their shoulders from the thorns they were caught in.
Tanril’s eyes widened at the sight. Absolvers, she thought to herself, as she looked toward Jarq, discreetly motioning him to continue working. She began to stand, knife tucked away behind her.
“You. Tearans, explain the origin of the commotion.” Commanded one of the Absolvers, disdain dripped from every word that resonated from behind his mask.
“Well, we were just hunting this beast and he was caught off guard when it charged us,” responded Tanril in a dulcet voice, placing her hand on the carcass of the boar, pointing to Jarq.
“One can never be too sure when hunting these boars,” Jarq added, unamused by her response. “I must say I will never grow accustomed to these monsters' terrifying charges. Would you like a cut? It's fresh,” he said sarcastically, while he continued to butcher the animal.
The masks obscured any emotion that could be gleaned from the Absolver’s reactions. Tanril kept her posture relaxed, betraying her increasing worry as the silence crept on. The other Absolver walked forward towards the cart but stopped as blood splashed at his foot from Jarq’s direction.
“Sorry about that. Knife slipped,” he said, ominously.
The Absolver swaggered towards Jarq. “I do not fear blood staining my wear, Tearan,” he threatened.
Jarq stood at the provocation, rising to meet the Absolver’s gaze. The air turned cold as he tightened the grip on his knife.
Tanril quickly intervened, “Well, I’m sorry to cause such a distraction on your route. We were going to pass through, after harvesting this boar. I hope we didn’t take you away from whatever important task you must be doing.”
She walked around the boar, away from the cart, hoping to usher the pair of Absolvers away. They once again remained silent as they scanned the area. Seconds passed until the pair looked at each other, seemingly finding nothing of reproach, and turned to leave.
Relieved, she watched them pass when the cart abruptly crumpled on its side, the boy revealing himself as he flailed out from the trunk. When this occurred, Tanril grappled the unsuspecting Absolver to her front, leaving him open to attack as Jarq rushed forward stabbing him relentlessly, shredding his chest with every entry and exit.
The Absolver’s body fell to the ground and disappeared with a flash of glittery fractal light. Taken aback, the remaining Absolver summoned his weapon back into reality with a similar flash of geometric light and took a stance, ready to defend against the two attackers.
Jarq initiated the exchange, slashing out with the short blade he held, aiming to slice open the Absolver’s throat. The blade cleaved only through air, as the Absolver deftly dipped below the attack, responding with an elegant upward swipe of his blade as he rose.
Jarq stepped back in pain, and the Absolver moved to follow through with a stab. Tanril kicked his arm away before the sword made contact, and struck the Absolver in the head. The Absolver was briefly stunned by the blow, but he leaned forward in response, kicked his leg out, and struck Tanril up through her gut. She dropped to her knees, feeling something break.
Quickly turning to his other opponent, the Absolver leapt and twisted in the air as he kicked out, aiming for Jarq’s skull. The attack felt clean, however bracing for the impact, Jarq absorbed the force of the falling kick. Catching the Absolver in the air with a violent uppercut, Jarq sent the Absolver back to the ground.
Tanril quickly rose to intercept the fall with a vicious knee to his back, ignoring the searing pain at her side. The Absolver staggered forward reeling from the impact, but quickly got back into position.
As his enemies rushed toward him, the Absolver raised his fist to the air and slammed it to the ground. A light shone from the earth as it cracked and shook, forcing his foes to their knees.
The Absolver primed for a powerful strike. He torqued his body, his muscles tensed. He unleashed a kick that arced through the air, knocking them both to the ground, prone.
Taking the opportunity he created, he ran to the boy. “Follow the trail through the brush, do not stop until you hit the road, and then run to the east. NOW!” The Absolver commanded, as he desperately cut the boy’s bindings, seeing the other two had begun to recover. The boy spat blood at the mask of the Absolver but began to escape toward the trail nonetheless.
Turning back to his opponents, he ran his sword through the chest of the still-dazed Jarq. The impaled man let out a sharp whine, his breath leaving him as he fell, bleeding in the dirt. Tanril’s eyes widened at the sight. Furiously, she took Jarq’s knife and drove the blade into her enemy’s leg, slicing down to the heel as the Absolver dived out of the way.
She turned to face her opponent. Despite the damage the Absolver took in their bout, he remained steadfastly at the ready, waiting to face her. They stared at one another, unmoving, calculating what would be the best approach to finish this fight.
Tanril threw the blade she held at the Absolver, but he deftly avoided the attack, prepped to intercept her knee flying towards him. When the Absolver caught her leg he slammed her to the ground. Tanril however, had deceived the Absolver’s intuition and she plunged the knife she kept into his neck and ripped it from his throat. She rose back to her feet and paid no mind to the now-disappearing body of the Absolver.
“Tenacious brat,” Tanril whispered to herself, as she hobbled towards where the boy had gone. “Shouldn’t take too long to grab you again.” She continued down the path, following the boy’s tracks. The blood from his prior wounds occasionally dotted the foliage, marking every path he took, betraying his attempts to hide his heading.
[Continued in next post]
When the boy awoke, he felt the warm crackling of a fire. Bandages hugged his body and face comfortably, and his pain felt dulled. Leather straps bound his arms and legs. He cursed silently, doing his best to keep his body limp and his breath steady, keeping his eyes closed.
“Ah, you’re awake. Well, I must say, in all my years, you are by far the hardiest little mongrel I’ve ever had to deal with,” noticed Tanril, “Stop pretending to sleep, child. Best you eat, get some energy, I won’t be carrying you the whole way on my own.” She continued dolefully, briefly caressing the knife she held before taking a cut from the spit of meat cooking over the fire. The boy remained silent, unmoving.
“Fine,” Tanril tossed the slab of freshly cooked meat in front of the boy. “Eat when you’re ready, come daybreak we continue back.” She sat down, next to the flames. Confident she was far enough away from any nearby patrol of Absolvers, she let the fire burn bright, as she tended to her wounds.
The night dragged on, and the boy saw his opportunity to escape at the sight of his capturer lying by the dying flame. He slowly wormed his way to the dimming light and reached within for the bone in the charred center. He stuck his hands into the embers, teeth bared, biting into his cheeks as his fingers felt through the cinders and ash. The remnants of the flame crackled as soon as he pulled away the smooth bone, nicking his fingers on the sharpened edge when he grasped it.
Startled by the sudden noise, he paused. A glance at his captor showed no change in her demeanor, and he began to cut away at the restraints on his legs. Careful to avoid any unnecessary sound, he held his breath as he cut the binds. Slowly, surely, every mark cut, guaranteed his eventual freedom.
Soon, he loosened his legs enough to shimmy out of their bindings. Looking around, arms still bound, he spotted a blade, stuck in the trunk of a tree. Creeping towards it, he struggled to take it out silently. When he pulled the knife free, dead bark toppled out, pittering across the dirt and his bare feet.
Careful not to crunch the freshly fallen source of sound, he approached Tanril, blade in hand. With every step, he sliced away at the bands wrapped around his forearms. As soon as the restraints snapped off he lunged toward his quarry.
He, however, was not prepared for Tanril’s cracking retribution for his attempt on her life. She snapped out her fist with the speed of a whip as he began to dive, landing a crushing blow to his groin.
The boy howled in pain and could barely take in a breath, as he buckled to the ground writhing in the dirt.
“You’re a fool to think you could get the better of me, even while I rest,” Tanril sneered, as she stood, throwing the boy off her. “This knife. Is not. Yours!” Her voice rose in anger to overtake the boy’s cries, as she stole away the knife and kicked his bandaged torso.
“You’re sloppy! Indiscreet! How will you serve Marek, when you pride yourself over everything?” She continued to yell out, as she set her knee pressed atop the boy’s reopened wound, pushing ever more into his chest.
The boy’s agonized screams were silenced as Tanril’s viselike grip shut his throat. His choked coughs petered out. Tanril drew close and venomously growled, “I wish I could kill you, mongrel. Every day now, I’ve had to suffer your presence in my course. Desperately, I wait for the day that I can end your miserable life.”
She held her position a moment longer. “But I cannot, Marek wills it so.” Tanril proclaimed, getting off the gasping, agonized boy. “For whatever reason, he finds enjoyment in your antics, your pathetic escape attempts, your ‘will’ as he so deftly put it.” She spoke, kneeling back down to address the boy’s wounds.
He whimpered, as Tanril removed the bandages, bloodied and ruined by their recent abuse. She threw them into the smoldering flame, along with the dry wood she had gathered previously. Once the fire was brought back to life, Tanril placed the blade of the knife into the flames. She grabbed her waterskin and began to clean the bleeding wound with a wet rag. Once free of the grime, she began to stitch the wound closed once more.
The boy was drenched in sweat through the pain he felt and winced at the insertion. “Oh please. You’ve dealt more pain to yourself than I have. Besides, these pinpricks aren’t going to be enough to stop your bleeding completely.” Tanril gleefully said as she reached for the now dully glowing red hot blade, wet rag in hand.
The boy’s eyes widened as he began to shuffle backward. “No. No, no, wait-,” he croaked before screaming out in agony, as Tanril pressed the burning blade onto his wound.
“There, there. All done” She said, as she took the flat of the knife off his seared wound, now fully closed.
After the string of painful experiences, the boy felt nauseous; his vision faded. He tried to rise deliriously but fell back to the ground taking short sharp breaths, his face contorted before he fell unconscious.
“Well, this will delay travel again,” remarked Tanril, “didn’t even eat the food I gave, ungrateful brat.” Picking up the discarded meat from the ground, she wiped off the dirt it accumulated and took a bite. No point in letting it go to waste, she ate the stale meal while she packed up her supplies. Once ready, she tied the boy up and dragged him out of the clearing, into the night.
The light of the sun high in the sky penetrated the waking boy's eyes forcing them to shut tight before they slowly opened, slightly dazed and dry. He was being dragged across the ground; his limbs bound together behind his back. He began to squirm, to free himself of the line that pulled him along.
Tanril noticed the sudden movement behind her. “Finally!” she groaned, taking out her knife and approaching the boy. He tried to wiggle away, but Tanril quickly caught up with him, cutting the bindings of his legs, and threw the pack of supplies she was carrying on top of him.
“We’re less than a day away. You’ll be carrying these for the last trek,” she ordered, wrapping the handles of the pack across the boy’s torso. She walked ahead and pulled on the line as the boy began to rise again and toppled him over. She waited until he stood at the ready, before she walked onwards, the boy following indignantly.
They continued to walk toward the setting sun, up the barren rocky terrain, and came upon a solitary mountain in the distance. Coming closer they found a city nestled above the bare mountain’s base. The city walls were built of sandstone, clearly sourced from the same climbing mountain beside it, further defended with wood and metal spikes, and enclosed by a gate paired with a watchtower.
The entryway they now neared was of monolithic construction narrowly reaching up to the height of the walls it was surrounded by. Those dense, colossal, sun-whipped wooden doors wore their scars from ages of protecting its inhabitants proudly. On the partition, the symbol of a grasping hand holding a jewel, its defined shapely edges kept clean, was maintained as though it were a badge of honor.
[Continued in next post]
They walked briskly, scuffling along the twisting paths and routes of ragged tents and worn aged wagons. The people housed within these traded and sold myriads of trinkets, wares, and supplies, boisterously calling out to the pair and many others passing by in the bustling sandy streets. Not to be delayed from her course, Tanril pushed onwards, pulling the boy along.
As they drew away from the outer reach of the town, the crowds thinned, the sun set deeper into the horizon, and an enormous palace came to view. The steps at the front, short and wide, weathered and worn, tapered to the entrance. The opening was carved with congruous geometric patterns from the smooth stone. The walls surrounding the entryway were made of the same material, though untouched by craftsmen, and were raised high towards the sky, casting a shadow from the palace upon the rest of the city.
They entered, the sterile jade light that came from within juxtaposed the warm low light from the outside torches. Their steps echoed on the polished floor, the sound dissipating off the spiraled columns lined with gold. Stopping just before the rising steps of a gilded throne, they looked at an elderly man as he sat upon it. His face, slightly obscured by thick strands of grayed matte hair, was shaped by deep grooves accenting sunken predatory eyes. He observed his subjects, posture lazy, and continued to let them kneel, waiting silently.
The boy had started to become tired. His arms tied behind his back had become numb, the uncomfortable position they were in cut the flow of blood. The pack on his torso strained his back, heavy from the material scavenged on the trip. His knee ached from all the weight on top of it. He took a step to stand, to relieve some of the pressure, but Tanril kicked his leg, sending him back to the ground.
“You may rise,” gestured the elder with his hand, a slight smile on his face as Tanril rose and the boy staggered to his feet.
“Tanril, your report," He commanded.
Tanril let her hands fall behind her back and slightly bowed as she began. “Yes, Lord Marek. Jarq and I traveled three days northeast into the territory of Newforest to gather information on the military presence in the nearest village and capture someone with more information on the greater movements in the region.”
She looked pointedly at the boy before she continued, “Rynok had followed us during the trip. When we approached the outskirts of the village, he ran to it. Jarq was able to capture and gag him with the prisoner mask we took before he managed to enter the village proper.”
Lord Marek remained stoic as Tanril continued. “We decided to return to Jewel Crest. On our way back, this one dropped the cart and himself down the cliffside back into the Newforest path. The commotion attracted a pair of Absolvers, and Jarq,” Tanril choked for a brief moment, “Jarq was killed in combat.”
“I retrieved Rynok, treated his wounds, and returned to Jewel Crest.” She finished.
Lord Marek let the silence drag out, contemplating the information given. "You were wise to return. The appearance of Absolvers in the outskirts of Newforest bodes poorly," he paused, "Your brother's death will not be in vain Tanril, you may retreat to your quarters. Rest."
Tanril bowed deeply, she cut away the pack the boy still carried and left Marek to deal with the still-bound Rynok.
Lord Marek waited until Tanril had stepped out from the chamber, "So, how did you get caught?"
Rynok looked at him quizzically, unsure of how to respond.
"Three days travel through the wastes without detection from my best trappers, and just before reaching sanctuary, you lose your head and get caught," the lord explained exasperatedly. "Your skills may have grown, but you remain the same callow child that first arrived in my domain."
Marek had shifted forward and shook his head, "I've provided so much, what a waste."
Rynok held an incredulous look. Lord Marek snapped his fingers and Rynok felt strength sap from his body. Tendrils of white light left him and melted together into a jagged glowing stone in the open palm of the elder man.
"What- what was that!" Rynok yelled out, the pain from his escapade crashed around him all at once. His body turned heavy. He fell to the ground, aching. A cold burning was felt crawling through his flesh.
"My blessing, boy. I have taken it back. You will relearn everything from the beginning,” Lord Marek proclaimed. He waved a hand and two figures stepped out from the corners of the chamber.
“Some time on your own will remind you of what you have disdained," he said, as they stripped Rynok of his bindings and dragged him deeper into the palace.
[End Chapter]
This will be the first of many chapters to come.
I've already posted it in other places as well, but I figured each site would be best suited on its own (rather than having to jump to different links)
either way, here's a few links:
Steam Discussion
Reddit Post
Tapas
DeviantArt
Fanfiction.net
Next Chapter will be out whenever.
Chapter 2: To Recover
The crawl burned Rynok as he was dragged through the palace, intensifying at every step. The details of the halls and corridors passed by as mere blurs. Shouts and commands rang out from every direction, muffled and incomprehensible. The guards' grip on his arms and the friction of his feet being dragged across the ground were dulled. The crawl of the same cold burn running through his flesh wrenched away all other sensations.Stuck in that haze, Rynok barely noticed he was thrown into a room. A jade light emanated from every direction. It held an intensity that made it difficult to keep his eyes open. He writhed on the ground, finding no purchase to lean against.
The smell of meat penetrated Rynok's nostrils. He found the source; a minuscule plate that held a cut of meat, bread, and water had appeared on the ground.
He dived into it, devouring the morsels as though his life depended on it. Despite the pristine condition of the meal, the taste was rancid. He retched, struggling to keep the food down. His agony, unfortunately, never left his flesh.
Rynok screamed out in frustration. He thrashed violently throughout the room, scratching away the flesh infested with that chill burn. His desperate, lunatic, attempts at relief failed. The floor and walls of the room became streaked with red in his madness.
Rynok screamed himself hoarse, but the damned burn never left him. He slammed his fists on the walls. "Release me! Please! Lord Marek give me your blessing! I'll do anything! Please! Save me!" He howled endlessly, uselessly.
Silence was the only response he was met with. The incessant, freezing, burning crawl never left him. Agonized, he tucked his legs close, hugged himself tightly, and wept.
Hours passed by in a blur. Food was left uneaten. Any solace found was in brief bouts of unconsciousness, unfortunately, interrupted by the endless crawl of the burning, intensified by the near-blinding light and edgeless room.
In this frenzied state, Rynok concluded that if he could not expel this torment, he would embrace it. He would make it a part of himself, rather than wallow in it. He embraced the heat that burned his senses, the chill that blew through his bones, the crawl that ran through his flesh.
He focused his efforts on adapting to this sensation, absorbing it. With time, the chill burn that crawled through his flesh waned. He meandered around the room, shuffling each limb, acquainting more closely with this new perspective of his surroundings.
The hard stone floor pressed against his limbs. His skin, shredded from the friction he put it through, ached. His muscles screamed from exhaustion. Every bone and joint in his body ached, protesting the abuse they endured. Every scrape, cut, and bruise, from the gash at his side to his raw, bloodied fingers, was a refreshing reminder of his rejuvenated senses.
His breath echoed on the walls of the room, rasping in and out of his lungs. The rustling of his clothes as he moved contrasted with the sound of his heart thumping, pumping blood through his body.
He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the harsh light. Focusing, he observed the room. There was the door, made of wood and heavyset, with no handle or gaps to be found. The walls were flat and smooth, the edges were sharp and defined. There were slight etchings in the walls that emanated light, its intensity abating as his eyes adjusted.
Rynok glanced at a plate of food on the floor, beckoning him to approach. He acknowledged his hunger, his thirst. He crawled unsteadily until he reached the plate. The slight smell of the stale food reached his nostrils the closer he drew.
He salivated. At his first bite, Rynok struggled to swallow. His throat was tight, and pressure built from behind his nose. He closed his eyes, tears flowed down his face. He savored every bite and finished his meal peacefully.
The crawl still tingled in the recesses of his consciousness. However, with his rationality intact, Rynok ruminated on what to do next. The primary question on his mind was that of Marek's Blessing. He had no memory of ever receiving anything of the sort. Still, he could remember the strength and vitality lost from the blessing's removal.
Those tendrils of golden light that had left him, what were they? The walls shared a similar quality in how they glowed, even if they were another color. He approached one of the etchings. He squinted at the green light, trying to glean how it shined. Short, sharp, geometric patterns ebbed and flowed up and down the groove.
He ran his finger along the gap. Smooth, yet a subtle pulse could be distinguished. He held his fingers there for a time and found that a faint pattern had emerged. A consistent rhythm was evident through the vibrating pulses in these etchings.
A heat grew, increasing, burning. Rynok frantically pulled his hand away from the wall. A faint layer of dust clung to his fingertips and was absorbed into his skin. His fingers glowed warmly, and it spread to his hand. He moved his hand back and forth, observing the effects. The injuries in his hand glowed, then slightly faded away. His hand felt refreshed.
Was this the power of Lord Marek? There was a clear difference in effects. Perhaps there was more to Marek's Blessing than simply the power the lord wielded. The blessing may have given Rynok strength, but of what use was power that could so effortlessly be taken? Lord Marek's words came to mind. You will learn everything from the beginning. "That I will," he whispered, a slight smile creeping onto his face.
The door behind him shunted open. He turned his head, and a guard stood at the entryway with a plate of food in hand.
"Oh? Seems you've come to your senses," the guard said, stepping into the room and placing the plate on the ground. "Eat. I'll send someone to prepare you to present to Lord Marek."
Rynok remained stoic, waiting for the guard to leave. The guard wasted no time exiting the room and ensuring the door closed completely. Rynok rushed to the opposite wall as soon as it did, trying to glean as much knowledge as he could from the dust's properties before he was taken away.
He stuck the fingers of his other hand in the groove, then moved them up and down to the rhythm the substance within displayed. He tore his hand away, the heat developed faster, and the light followed his movement. This hand as well absorbed the dust, healing it slightly.
He tapped his fist on the walls to the beat of the rhythm that came from the etchings. The pulses wavered, but no other reaction was had.
He tried to combine both. The light shifted with the movement, and the light pulsated at every beat of his fist on the wall. He continued until his fingers burned and were covered in the material. He flaked it to the ground. It was a minuscule amount, dull and colorless, difficult to distinguish from the dirt surrounding it. He brought his face close to the dust and tried to imitate the rhythmic vibrations from the wall with a hum.
It took a few attempts, raising and lowering the tone, intermittently thrumming his fingers on the ground next to it, until eventually, a faint orange glow escaped from the powder, pulsating to the beat of his fingers, waning and intensifying with his hum. Until he heard the door behind him unlock.
[Continued in next post]
As this pair dragged him through the palace, he could better track the details he missed before. What Rynok had remembered as a maze of incomprehensible twists and turns turned out to be quite simple in design. The walls were smooth, sporting the same thin etchings in the wall providing a low jade light in the otherwise dark path. The floor was clean and flat, though rough and unpolished, slightly rising in elevation as they moved along. They rounded a corner and began to walk up steps to a wall made of the same stone yet more crude and layered compared to the simple smooth walls surrounding it.
When they reached the dead end, the wall emitted a faint light and broke apart! It separated into pieces that slowly slipped into the walls. Rynok's mouth fell agape, then shifted into a giddy smile. His head hung back to observe the door as they walked through it, the light flickering out as it closed behind them.
They had entered a completely dark room. Dirt and debris crossed Rynok's feet as they dragged him across the rough floor. One pair held him up as the other opened a thick wooden door.
Rynok flinched at the light that hit his face from the outside. The tall window openings of the palace corridor they had entered let the light of the midday sun pass through unabated.
Rynok tried to step out on his own, but his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. The pair picked him up. "Bear with it," one had said, "we're not far," the other finished, continuing down the polished floor of the palace proper.
They continued down the hall and turned to a grand archway revealing a large water basin. The opening at the top formed a pseudo-atrium from how the natural cave connected to the palace walls. Paths formed through the jagged rocks, glints of light reflecting between more rooms and baths.
The pair ushered him to sit by a wall next to one of these basin baths. They disrobed Rynok of his rags and poured water over him, scrubbing away the blood and filth he had accumulated. The process was thorough and efficient but had lasted long enough for Rynok to be reminded of the shame at the weakness he displayed and the vulnerability he had no choice but to endure. When they finished, they dressed him in a simple burlap robe.
Rynok tried once more to walk on his own. He could take only a few steps before he stopped. The pair assisted in bringing him to the central chamber.
They exited the basin baths and passed the wood door going in the opposite direction. Rynok could hear faint echoes of a conversation as they drew closer. When they turned down a final corridor to the greater palace chamber, they passed Tanril, who rushed by, paying the trio no mind. When they reached the open room, they found Lord Marek seated lazily on his throne.
They approached the base of the steps; the pair waited behind Rynok after placing him on his knees to face the elder man. Rynok could only look downwards, still too enfeebled to direct his attention to the authority before him. Lord Marek patiently said nothing, waiting in expectation. Rynok exhaled sharply, then took a breath and mustered the strength to lift his head and keep his line of sight pointed at Lord Marek directly.
“It seems you have recovered enough to remember basic courtesies,” began Lord Marek, shifting forward in his seat. He flattened the creases of the silken tunic and let his elbows rest on his knees. He observed Rynok for a moment more.
“We will begin once you have shown that you are able to walk on your own again," Lord Marek said, noticing the slight tremble in Rynok's posture. "I will have someone take you to a room. I hope to see your recovery advance at an agreeable pace. Do not disappoint me,” Lord Marek concluded, leaning back into his seat, awaiting Rynok's response.
“Yes, Lord Marek,” Rynok managed to squeeze out, before letting his body lull back downwards.
Marek waved his hand, “Take him. Address his wounds, then put him in a room on the upper level of the palace. Inform me on which wing and which room.” He commanded, signaling with a wave of his wand to the two aids to take Rynok away.
They bowed, then lifted Rynok to his feet. They carried him along another corridor, stopping at a rectangular room. It had simple cots and cabinets. Bandages and other healing tools were strewn about.
The aides had laid Rynok down on one of the cots. One grabbed some salves while the other looked for bandages. When they finished, they redressed Rynok and went further down the corridor until they reached an arching stairway.
They entered the upper level of the southern wing of the palace. The walkway was broad, with an open balcony facing west and curled around the central court in a wide arc. They picked a room in the center that overlooked the main chamber of the palace.
The room was elegant in its simplicity. Following the motif of the rest of the palace, the walls were smooth, with tall thin windows cut from them, allowing light to pass through. The same type of etchings Rynok saw from his prison outlined the windows and held a glimmer of jade.
The aides laid him on the circular bed in the center of the room, then left. Rynok waited until their steps faded away into silence. Though he had been fully intent on escaping the bed to further his investigation into the properties of the dust, Rynok instead fell into the sweet embrace of a good night's rest.
[End Chapter]
As mentioned previously, the going is slow but hopefully steady.
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