This story is being rewritten! The new version, A Price in Memory, can be found here. 

 I highly suggest you read the new version as this one won't be completed. Also, there has been a lot of changes so you won't be able to continue with the other where this one left off.

How long had it chased him? Without the passage of a sun, he could not be sure, but he knew it was toying with him. It casually trotted after him as he tried to get away. The now familiar ashen landscape streaked past his vision, only to be replaced by more of the same. The distance between them decreased so slowly that it had almost given him hope at times.

But now it was coming to an end.

It was only a few paces away now. He was not looking back. The last time he did that he was momentarily stunned when he saw the hunger in its eyes. Somehow he knew it would be the end of him if it caught up, but he was powerless to stop it.

A slight tremor ran through the ground before it burst apart next to him under the weight of the creature. The left head of the beast didn’t waste any time as it snapped towards him.

He stepped down onto the ground as he tried to fling himself out of the way. But the beast was faster.

Pain shot through him as its teeth sunk into his side. The massive head pulled him off the ground, shaking him in the air before flinging him away.

He landed a few meters away rolling a few time before coming to a stop. The sharp pain quickly faded only to be replaced by a sense of emptiness the scared him even more.

Gritting his teeth he looking down at the white substance that comprised his body. A row of black holes was sunk into his form. Tiny black veins could already be seen spreading out from the teeth marks, making their way further into him.

A low growl that shook the very air snapped his attention back to the culprit. The beast was slowly walking towards him, its pitch black form striking a sharp contrast to the lifeless grey surroundings. Its jaw split its left head in two, a long black tongue licking the remaining white matter from its teeth as the right head’s gaze locked onto him.

At least he thought it did. It had no eyes to speak of, only hollow depressions where they should have been. This did not stop the shudder running though his being as he gazed upon its face.

Hurriedly he tried to get to his feet only to find his right side unresponsive. The black veins were spreading down his arm and leg. Somehow he knew that even if the creature were to leave right now he would still fade into oblivion as the corruption consumed everything he called himself.

It was then that he felt some… force… reaching out, tugging gently at the barren landscape, searching for something. Desperate for any small piece of hope he reached out towards the force and it instantly latched onto him.

A white glow surrounded him and quickly grew stronger causing even the beast to stop in its tracks as it cautiously observed the phenomenon.

He clung onto the light as it started to pull him away from the most horrible thing he could imagine. Pain and loss surged through him as he felt the corruption digging deeper into his being, unwilling to let the prey escape.

The beast finally made up its mind and lunged at him just as the white light suddenly intensified ripping him out of the bleak reality.

***

He groaned, opening his eyes, only to be assaulted by a bright light hovering above his head. He squeezed his eyes shut once more, plunging the world into darkness.

He could feel his body, the muscles on his bones. He could hear the sounds of someone or something shuffling in the background. He could smell the stale air surrounding him. For some reason, these sensations brought him joy, as if they had returned after a long absence.

Once more he opened his eyes, slowly this time, savouring instead of shunning the yellow light. Just the sight of something other than the listless tones of grey excited him. Then he frowned.

Grey? Why would…

He tried to focus on the fleeting thought only to have it fade quicker than a dream. The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts.

A head came into view blocking out most of the light, it was that of a middle-aged man with wild black hair. The sharp green eyes like knives cutting through his flesh to peer at his soul. The eyes were cold and almost emotionless, save for a hint of anticipation.

“Hmm. Seems to have worked,” the head mumbled. “How do you feel?”

A question. Directed at him? Probably.

“…What happened?” He asked, unsure of what was going on. He faintly remembered a field filled with the dead and dying. Was he dead?

No.

For some reason he sure that this wasn’t the supposed afterlife he had heard about from… somewhere. This was something else.

“Confusion. To be expected really. Not every day a person gets pulled back from death’s grasp,” the head straightened, bringing the light back into view.

He blinked turning his head towards the side as the surroundings came into focus. The head that had spoken to him belonged to a thin man wearing a white robe over loose fitting clothes. The man was busy scribbling notes in a book.

Taking the opportunity, he quickly scanned his surroundings hoping to find some clues to make sense of the mess inside his mind. A desk stacked with open books and scrolls. A table supporting jars filled with liquids and pieces of strange creatures. Stone walls covered in strange symbols, some of which seemed to pulse with a dull glow. His eyes turned towards the light widening in surprise at what he saw. A ball of yellow floating in the air, seemingly free from attachments.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind but the room stayed the same. His confusion deepened. Some of these things shouldn’t exist. As soon as the thought came to him he once more tried to focus on it only for it to fade away before he could find the origin.

Magic. Unbidden a word sprang into his consciousness as he looked at the floating ball of light.

Magic?

He knew the word but… but what?

“Any other symptoms? Nausea? Pain?”

The old man’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to the man and saw him staring back hand poised over the book ready to add any new information to the pages.

“Where am I?” He asked.

The man’s eyes widened.

“Memory loss? Unexpected. But still acceptable.”

The scribbling sounds started again, continuing for a few seconds before the man looked at him again.

“You are here as a voluntary subject to my resurrection experiment,” the man stated, focussing on the word voluntary, but his attention immediately was pulled to another.

“Resurrection?”

“Oh yes. The current spells have a lot of restrictions and require sacrificing others. Quite archaic if I have to say so myself. Why we are still stuck with those ancient formulas are beyond me. Thus I am improving it.

You volunteered for the experiment for a price. Which shouldn’t even be necessary by the way. You are a part of history with this spell of mine, that should be payment enough.

Even with the reward, you were the only one to accept.”

The man’s faced turned into a scowl, halting his animated monologue for a second.

“Sheep, the lot of them. Unable to take even the slightest bit of risk even if it meant improving something that would change the very world.”

The man sighed shaking his head, but he wasn’t listening. He felt a throbbing pain lance through his head as memories surged forth. Memories that had a distinctly foreign feeling, as if they didn’t belong in his mind.

He remembered growing up on the streets of the city, living in the alleyways. Stealing what he needed and struggling each day just to survive. People of higher standing never paid any heed to the poor and those a little better off than him could only cling to what they had for fear of losing it.

But he survived, doing what he needed in order to move forward, hoping for a chance to change his fate. He was a young man by the time the chance came. Rumours of the mage outside the city searching for volunteers for an experiment to improve resurrection magic, something thought to be impossible.

The pay was good. Three pieces of gold could support him for a few months if he lived like a human, or maybe even a term or two if he stretched it to the maximum. But he had different plans.

His father was a hunter, a monster killer, and he would follow in his footsteps. But for that, he needed equipment, training and supplies, things he never could gather while worrying about when or what his next meal would be.

Killing the creatures that threatened the human population was risky but he would be able to finally make a decent living. He would be able to walk tall among the masses instead of slinking through the alleyways.

The experiment was dangerous though. To be resurrected you first have to die.

But he was sick of living like a rat anyway. If this could give him a better life he would take that risk.

He shook his head trying to clear the intruding memories from his mind.

No.

That wasn’t him. That life didn’t belong to him, it didn’t feel right. He looked down at his hands. Young. Thin and scarred, but young. There was no sense of familiarity as he looked at them, instead, they felt uncomfortable… weak. An image flashed through his mind of large calloused hands gripping a steel sword as blood and rain-streaked over them. Just for a moment and then the image was gone.

This wasn’t his body. A faint feeling of panic rose in his chest as he opened and closed his hands, making sure that they were really his.

What the hell happened? Resurrection magic? He may not remember much, but he was sure he had never heard of such a thing. Would the empire have been driven to such straits if they could resurrect the fallen soldiers?

Empire?

War. A great war spreading through the land. Militia being conscripted in villages. A young girl, crying as he walked away, forcing himself not to look back.

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“Are you listening? Do you feel anything out of the ordinary?” The man asked noticing his strange behaviour.

“…No. I just… remembered how this all happened,” he replied.

There was a wild look in the mage's eyes that caused his instincts to call out for caution. He didn’t know what the man would do if he found out that the spell he obviously took so much pride in had a serious flaw. He felt bad for the young man whose body he wore. But he knew the boy was willing to risk his life when he volunteered. After all, he had his memories.

At least that was what he told himself. A shiver ran down his spine as he saw a bleak and desolate expanse of grey earth and sky.

“Ah. That’s good,” the man said, scribbling down a few more notes.

“Memory loss… only temporary. Yes, a promising start indeed. Very well I got all I needed from you. You can pick up the payment from my assistant when you leave. And congratulations on coming back from the dead.”

He nodded with a forced smile and got up from the table he was lying on, he just wanted to get out of here and sort out his thoughts. Following the memories in his head, he quickly made his way out of the room and down a flight of tone stairs.

The mage’s ‘experimentation’ room was located on the third floor while the second held an area filled with books and alchemical equipment. The walls had a few symbols drawn onto them, though they weren’t as numerous or intricate as that in the first room he still found his eyes drawn to them.

He was making his way through the room when he spotted the mage’s assistant. The woman, who seemed to be in her early twenties, was busy mixing different substances in one of the containers while constantly referring to an open book in front of her. Her shoulder length brown hair was tied behind her head to keep it out of the way, exposing the pale skin of her face and neck. It seemed as if it had been a long time since she last saw the sun.

“Hi,” he said, causing her to jerk and almost drop the beaker she was holding.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. The mage said you would have something for me?”

“Oh! It’s you!” she said seemingly surprised to see him. “Master’s spell actually worked? That’s amazing.”

Her eyes shined with interest as she looked him over.

“Is that unusual?” He asked a bit taken aback. If it truly had such a low expectancy of working, did the boy really have a death wish?

“Well, nobody has ever been able to resurrect someone without a sacrifice. This achievement is sure to spread like wildfire.”

He frowned, feeling a bit uncomfortable since the spell didn’t really succeed.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with your… death. Sorry, wait here and I’ll get your payment.” she said before quickly moving off to a desk on the other side of the room and began rummaging through the clutter. It seemed as if she didn’t often come into contact with other people.

Mages liked to keep to themselves and were rarely seen in public, spending their time focused on researching spells and potions and such. The thought intruded upon his consciousness as he watched the assistant. A thought stemmed from knowledge not his own.

The woman finally found a pouch of coins and removed three gold pieces from it handed it over to him.

“Thank you,” he replied as he tried to keep his expression neutral.

“No problem. I’ll show you out.”

She began walking towards the stairs leading down. Along the way, she questioned him about his experience after coming back to life. Since the mage hadn’t asked him to keep quiet he said what he told him. A bit of temporary memory loss being the only side effect seemed to greatly surprise the assistant.

Was it really this unusual? Perhaps he should have faked more serious symptoms, but since the boy didn’t seem to have any idea of side effects of resurrection, it might have done more harm than good.

From what he could gather from the short conversation with the mage’s assistant, resurrection required certain conditions to be met, one of which was a willing sacrifice. This combined with the fact that only a few mages could cast the spell, made it impossible for common people to ever hope for. Usually, only nobles and royalty would ever have the chance at resurrection. As such, most common people had little to no knowledge of the process. He was no different.

The woman led him outside and hurried back through the door, probably to discuss the experiment with her master.

The mage’s tower was built on top of a hill just outside the city. From where he stood he could see the towering walls of stone surrounding the city, hiding all but the tallest buildings from sight. He couldn’t help but be surprised at their size. Standing eight meters tall they towered over the forms of the people moving in and out of the city.

From the memories of the boy, he could tell the city was stretched out around a large river that flowed through the middle. The clear waters coming in at one side seemingly fresh and vibrant, and by the time it left the other side, it was a murky brown colour, carrying away all the filth from the city’s inhabitants.

The surrounding area had been cleared of trees for about two hundred meters on all sides, after that a massive forest claimed the ground, quickly blocking out his sight.

Taking a deep breath, he started down the path that led down the hill, toward the large gates of the city.

A few groups of people were lining up at the gate, slowly walking through an arch set into the gateway, as he made his way over. The arch had numerous strange runes carved out onto its surface, glowing with a faint light even visible in the daylight.

A squad of guards stood next to the archway, eyeing the people as they made their way into the city. Apparently, the archway was supposed to reveal monsters that were concealing themselves but it would seem the boy never had an interest in how it worked. The runes were reminiscent of those he saw in the mage's tower, however, so he guessed it would have something to do with this magic that seemed to be commonplace here.

Most of the people going into the city were armed and armoured, some with swords and axes and others with bows and knives. These were probably the hunters from the boy’s memories, like his father had been, those that make a living by killing the beasts in the surrounding forest.

To his surprise, the majority of them wore leather armour, unlike the steel of the guards at the gate. He always preferred steel himself, even if it was heavier.

 A dull pain shot through his head as he saw himself looking down while strapping a heavy steel breastplate over his chest.

With a mixture of anticipation and need, he clung to the memory hoping to see more, but the vision stopped after he finished strapping on the armour. With a thought, he tried to see what happened afterwards but the ache in his head suddenly spiked as if he had slammed his head against a wall.

He grit his teeth in pain and opened the eyes he couldn’t remember closing. One of the armed men standing at the back of the line gave him a strange look.

“You okay?” The man asked with a frown.

“Yea, just a headache”

The man merely nodded and went back to looking at the front, to a group of people standing to one side. Seeking a distraction for the pounding in his head he followed the man gaze.

A group of seven people, better armed than the rest stood next to the gate, talking with one of the guards. Even though they looked relaxed he got the feeling that was only a facade. Small details sprang to his attention. The way they stood a few feet from each other giving each of them enough space to draw their weapons at any time. The occasional glace one threw out to the surroundings, quick but covering everyone around them. The bored look another had as he looked to the sky, yet his eyes were constantly moving as though expecting to see something hidden in the clouds.

The most noticeable features of the seven, were their pale red eyes they all shared. More like those of a predator than a human.

Hushed whispers travelled through the crowd, as they looked at the group with a mixture of respect and fear.

"That’s them isn't it"

"Yeah, I heard a group of beast eaters came to the city. Didn't think I'd see them here."

“Shhh! You got a death wish?”

"They aren't going to let them into the city are they?"

"Why not?"

"I heard they go mad for no reason"

Beast eaters?

He scanned the group once more, frowning at the ominous name. It seemed familiar, but he could not place it.

As he looked at them, one of the men in the group suddenly turned and looked him straight in the eye. A shiver ran down his spine as he stared at the red eyes of the man. Not finding anything worth his attention, the man broke eye contact and scanned the surrounding area.

After a few more words were spoken between one of them and the guard, the group walked through the archway and headed into the city.

The crowd kept talking between each other about the group as they made their way forward. He found his thoughts focusing on them as well, but for different reasons. He really needed to sort out the memories inside his head. He was lost in a place he knew nothing about. His only guide the half-understood memories of a dead man. If he wanted to survive he would need more information, and quickly.

He soon came to the front of the line and walked through, while the guards were looking at him. As he passed through the archway, a cold sensation ran over his skin, as if he stepped out into a winter breeze.

One of the guards eyed the runes, but seeing no reaction, the man waved him through the gates.

The cobbled street ran through the city, buildings lined on either side. People were everywhere. Some hurrying along the street, while others chatted with those they knew giving a lively atmosphere to the city.

He studied the strange sights all around him as he let his feet guide him without paying much attention to where he was going. Most of the buildings were made out of stone, giving quite a different image from what he was used to in the village where he grew up which mostly consisted of wooden buildings.

As he made his way deeper into the city the buildings became larger, many of the houses having two floors with some even having three. He saw a man wearing colourful clothing riding down the street on a creature that was reminiscent of a horse, if horses had six legs and six eyes. The man cast him a frowning look when he noticed he was being stared at by someone dressed in little more than rags, but was soon out of sight. It was only then that he realised he had stopped in the middle of the road to stare at the strange beast.

 A d’yar.

The name of the beast came to him, along with an image of a man in armour riding one of the creatures while smiling down at him. The man had been someone important to him, he was sure of it.

No. Not important to me, important to the boy.

He quickly shook his head trying to clear his mind. The memories of the boy were beginning to seem more natural. The thought left him more than a bit unsettled. Would he still be himself if he couldn’t distinguish between his own past and someone else’s?

The reality of his situation quickly became more real. He was in someone else’s body in a completely foreign place. He thought the strange happenings at the tower had left him prepared for the things he would encounter but it seemed he had been mistaken.

Looking around more memories flooded his mind.

He was running down a street, this street, hoping to snatch something to eat from the market at the end. Maybe Gurd, the baker, would be busy with a customer today giving him such an opportunity.

He closed his eyes trying to clear the unwanted thought. He needed to find a place to think.

His feet carried him through the winding streets into the slum area of the city near the western wall as memories, sparked by familiar sights, kept clawing at his mind, demanding his attention. Each time they would show a scene and leave him thinking he really was that boy for the briefest of moments.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of a nearby building in a dark alleyway. He slowed his breathing trying to regain his calm as he knew he had done many times before.

An image came to his mind of a man that towered above him, holding a wooden sword. His father. His real father.

“Remember. Always keep calm in battle. Rage may give you strength and fear may lend you speed, but a clear mind will keep you alive.”

Once more the memory stopped, but this time he didn’t try to pursue it, he just took the advice and slowly breathed in and out.

Finally feeling a bit better he opened his eyes. An empty crate was overturned against the wall, a few torn and dirty blankets inside of it.

He saw himself staring out of the crate as rain poured into the alleyway. He was covered in the blanket, its meagre warmth the only thing that he could cling to.

He quickly blinked a few times looking down at the crate.

This was his home. Or at least it was where the boy had slept for the past couple of terms. Here in the dark alleyway in the poorest area of the city. He remembered going out early in the mornings to see if he could find something to eat, coming back late at night. Most of the times he had gone to sleep hungry.

He remembered the other street kids he had befriended. Brad, with his shaggy brown hair, who lived nearby. The boy always had a knack for finding an unguarded meal. Cole the lanky boy who was always begging for scraps in the market place. Dale who he had found one winter morning leaning against a wall, chest unmoving and cold as the winter chill.

He reached out to steady himself against the crate as the memories flitted across his consciousness one by one. His throat felt as dry as the desert as he swallowed what little saliva he had. How had he ended up like this?

Once again he saw the man riding on the d’yar, smiling down at him as he returned home from hunting in the forest. His father, or the boy’s. He saw his mother standing next to him, a term before the illness claimed her life. The image then morphed into his father face, a mixture of worry and determination in his green eyes, as he told him not to worry. A horde of monsters were heading towards the city, and all the hunters were called upon to man the walls and help protect their home.

That was the last he ever saw of the man, he was still a young boy back then. Ten terms ago. The officials later came to reclaim the house, claiming that only those who contributed to the wellbeing of the city could own property. Forced out on the street he had to fight to survive each day.

His hands pressed against his temples as he slowed his breathing and regain the calm that seemed so elusive. The boy had lived a hard life. Perhaps that was why he was willing to take part in the mage’s experiment. A quick death or a better life, both had their attractiveness to someone in his position.

Seeing the face of his father leaving to protect him and not coming back struck a chord. A coldness formed in his heart as he thought of himself doing exactly the same, in a different life.

He saw looking at a young girl, telling her not to be afraid as tears formed in her eyes, promising her he would be back.

What… what was her… name?

His eyes widened as he racked his mind, desperate to find that all important piece of information. But there was only emptiness. His hands were shaking as he looked down at them. He brought them up to his face, feeling the wetness rolling down his cheeks as a sob broke through his gritted teeth.

How could he forget?

He could feel the haziness of his memories, like a fog surrounding them, blurring the edges until only the silhouette could be seen.

Why? Did he die? Could a person’s death erase their memories?

But that couldn’t have been the case. He could still remember certain scenes in vivid clarity, yet they weren’t complete.

No. it wasn’t a fog that surrounded his memories, but pieces that simply weren’t there, ripped from him, leaving the rest in broken parts. Like a chain snapped too many times to be used for the very purpose it was created.

Even his own name seemed to be lost, only the name of the boy rising in his awareness.

Y’rid.

He leaned against the wall and slowly sunk down next to the crate holding his head in his arms. He tried to control his breathing as his father had taught him, seeking to clear his head, hoping it might relieve him of the questions that gnawed at his mind.