"Shadowpath: The Saga of Aarian" : 'Teachings and Trials: Part 2'

submitted by aarian on Mar 28th, 2007

“Shadowpath: The Saga of Aarian”

“Teachings and Trials: Part 2”

Aarian lay ragged and worn on the earthen floor of the small room. He tried to open his eyes but could manage only a flutter, catching fleeting glimpses through what seemed like distorted glass. He tried to move his arm but his muscles protested with pain mixed with numbness; he was too tired to sort it out.

Is this what it feels like to die?

It was all he could think about; surely he was doomed to join the bones and debris littered across the floor. He would be but one more reminder of a failed attempt to be something more. Would the next person be able to get out, or would he too find himself in the same position. Feeling his life struggle to hang on while looking at the bones around him wondering how they had fared.

Aarian attempted to lift his head again, his neck thickened as if trying to life a cart of bricks, but it didn’t even lift half an inch.

There are many ways a person meets his fate. Some go out in the thrill of battle, dying for a cause, protecting the weak and defending a belief. Others, less fortunate die of sickness, a natural death beyond the poor victim’s control. Some would die of old age while some at the hands of a lunatic. Not he however, he was left to die alone. Chasing a fools dream to be more than he was, facing horrors no one would ever know, and dying in a place that no one knew about. He would disappear.

Surely his family would be distraught, frantically searching for a son who could not be found, not that if he could it would be in time to be saved. They would search, but soon even they would resign themselves to the fact that their son had just vanished. In the beginning the explanations would be simple enough, but over time the stories would grow. Perhaps kidnapped by pirates and taken to a far off island. Maybe eaten by a dragon that lived in the nearby mountains, one that none has seen but are convinced lives there.

How would he be remembered? Would the old man go to the nearby villages and speak the truth of his demise or would he just let it be what it may be. Would he even be remembered? He wasn’t a great warrior, or a powerful wizard, he was in fact, nothing.

“Nothing he says, he thinks he is nothing” a strange voice cut the silence of the room, pausing his thoughts. It was a quiet voice, but chilling and unearthly.

“He does, he thinks he is nothing, perhaps he is nothing” a second voice, this one deeper than the first but with the same feel as the first.

“Then we should leave him, he doesn’t need us. Let him join the others” the first voice spoke

“Agreed”

Leave me? Aarian lay perfectly still frantically trying to make sense of things. Don’t leave me. It was all he could think, all he could focus on. He didn’t know who was in the room with him, or what their intentions were, but he knew he did not want them to leave.

“He wants us to stay” the second voice said, still no inflection in its voice; Just a silky smooth yet unreal tone.

“Should we?” Replied the first voice.

“We should ask him why”

“Agreed”

“Why should we stay, you have already decided you are nothing.
We came to find a necromancer, a confident master of life and death, a commander of the mystical” The second voice spoke almost tauntingly.

“That is what we came for, but not what we found”

“Not what we found”

“We found a boy, a tired whelp.” The first voice said displeasingly

Aarian found himself getting angry. Why had these people come, to taunt him? Tease him? He could feel his pulse quicken, he could not move-could not see-felt nothing but dull numbness in some of his body and burning pain in the rest; but he was angry.
Without thinking about it, without realizing it his lips were moving. He heard his own voice, weak yet commanding. “I am no whelp”

“He says he is no whelp”

“He says”

“Perhaps we were mistaken”

“Perhaps”

The voices volleyed back and forth moving around him in the room. He was becoming more aware, his anger breathing new life into his body. He could not see, or lift himself but he was aware. The voices, whoever they were, were circling him slowly. Yet, he heard no footsteps. “Help me” he said quietly.

“He wants help”

“He needs help”

“He must help himself”

“He must”

The voices continued to bounce and circle around him. He found himself getting angrier.

“He is angry, his emotions are not damaged”

“Perhaps he is angry because he is afraid”

“Afraid of us? Afraid of death?”

“Perhaps. Are you afraid of us whelp? Afraid of death?”

Aarian was now furious. He was dying and these people were toying with him? Aarian focused and forced his eyes open, this time they obeyed, popping open like bloody pods. From somewhere deep inside he summoned more strength, his anger fueling his determination. He lifted his head from the dirt and looked towards one of the voices.

There, hovering above the ground was a translucent man. He was dressed in majestic robes, hints of purples and blues shone through the misty form. It was then realization set in. He was being tormented by a ghost. He was lying here, surely spending his last minutes not only in cold tearing pain, but being teased and prodded by a ghost.

“You are not death” He said. “You are dead, but not death. I am not afraid of you. Leave me be”

Aarian allowed his head to drop back to the earth. Any sense of hope dashed.

“He is wise” the man said

“He is” the other voices said.

Aarian’s curiosity wanted him to look to the other voice, but realistically he knew it was probably nothing more than the man’s counterpart. Another ghostly image capable of doing nothing but taunt and tease.

“Do you fear death Aarian, true death?”

“No, I do not” Aarian replied. Maybe at some point in his life he did fear death. It was unknown, a mystery. He no more understood death than he understood life in general. Here, however, facing death he found he did not fear it. It didn’t come in the form of a monster stealing baby’s breaths in the night. It wasn’t a horrible monstrosity, cutting swaths of destruction. It was in fact quiet; cold and quiet. Death was a quiet being who sat and waited for the right time at which point he was sure he would just stop.

It was strange actually. Here in a cave, being taunted by ghosts, bleeding into the ground, he found himself admiring death. He understood death. It was, nothing more, than the absence of life.

“He is ready” he heard the male figure say.

“He is ready” the second voice said in confirmation.

“You welcome and understand death, and in doing so have made death your ally. Call on it young Aarian when you need aid and it will aid you. Summon it when you need vengeance, and you will have vengeance. Talk to it, when you need comfort, and it will comfort you. It is now your friend, your ally, and as such you are now ready”

The voices stopped and the room fell silent once again. He was aware however. He was not alone in the room. He could feel the souls before him flittering about their ways as if he were invisible. Although the voices had only just left he played their words over in his head. When you need aid, it will aid you.

Aarian focused on the souls around him; although his eyes were closed he could see them, feel them. Although he had never met any of them in their former life, he knew them.

Aarian felt with his mind for one who seemed stronger than the others, more powerful. He found one, a fallen soldier from a war long forgotten. He reached out to him Help me he thought, hoping it was all that was needed. To his surprise and comfort it was. He felt the soul approach him. It hesitated for a moment and then forced itself into Aarian’s limp frame. He suddenly felt strong, his wounds remained, but the pain subsided. His mind was clearer and he was able to think. He didn’t know how to describe it, he was filled with strength, but not natural strength achieved through training and practice, it was in fact the strength of the dead.

With new hope and a resurgence of faith that he was not going to die here, alone and forgotten, he allowed himself to sleep.

********************************************************************

“Get up already would ya, this ain’t no boarding area” A stern voice cut through Aarian’s slumber.

Aarian struggled to open his eyes against a bright and blinding light. A tall man stood before him, dressed in armor and armed with sword and shield.

“Are ya getting up or do I have to get you up myself, I assure you I have a fail proof method” the guard said drawing his sword.

Aarian reacted out of instinct, scurrying to his feet and retreating from the guard. Realization struck as he stared at the man. His body reacted, strong and sturdy. His wounds were gone and the light. A bright sun burned in the brilliant blue sky above. His clothes were new, no signs of blood or combat and a small dagger was attached to his hip along with a small satchel of berries.

Confused Aarian looked to the guard “Where am I?”

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