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.
Y’rid sat with Red and Hadi at a table in the common room while waiting for the others to return. He swirled the tankard in his hand, watching as the golden liquid sloshed against the sides. The late-afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting rays of light and revealing the dust swirling in the air.
The common room was rather quiet, only a few guests eating and drinking, placing orders with the nearest tavern maid. A sleepy looking innkeeper was sitting at a counter off to the side, his head propped up on his hand, and eyes half closed.
Y'rid took a sip of the ale.
“Is Holin going to be okay?” Hadi asked at his side. He had been asleep in his tent when they reached the camp the previous evening. Seeing the man in the state he had been in had struck the boy quite hard. He had kept sneaking glances at Holin as they made their way to Dusk.
Perhaps he had come to build faith in the hunter’s skill as he had sparred with Y’rid. Seeing him like that might have shaken that faith.
Y’rid looked over to Red, directing the question to him.
“He should be fine. Most mages know some runes that can heal,” the man answered.
“There’s different magic that can heal?” Y'rid asked.
Red shrugged. “Don’t know much about magic. But the runes are an old language. There is more than one way to say something.”
Y’rid frowned. Just what exactly was the magic? How could a language have so much power over reality?
He long thought of this, after all, it was magic that brought him here. But the others weren’t much help, with none of them having any talent or training in the art. The best he got was that there were different levels of magical talent. Most people had almost none and were unable to use it even if they knew the runes.
Then there was a second group that could activate runes by feeding them energy from an external source. Apparently, Ritter, the man that had saved him back at Riversedge, was one of these. He was also the only one in the team that could use runes. Unfortunately, he had gone ahead before Y’rid had joined them.
The last group of people were the rarest. Belonging to this group required a talent for magic and long training to utilise that talent. These people could use runes in different ways and 'activate' them by their own power.
This explanation was rather vague, but it was the best he had received.
To understand more he needed to speak with someone in the last group, a mage. But these people usually held positions of extreme importance in this society. One could only request an audience if you were someone important, or had a lot of coin.
Now and then, nobles or very wealthy traders would try to convince a mage to take one of their children as apprentices. Sometimes they succeeded, but more often than not, they didn’t.
Kali had told him of a mage that was a part of the Order though. She had suggested he speak with the mage if he wanted to know more. At the same time, she had also warned him that it might be futile. Mages tended to value and hoard their knowledge more than anything.
When we reach Stronghold…
Perhaps he could speak to the mage if he told him of his origins. Surely that would be enough to get the mage’s attention?
He thought back to the beast they had fought the previous day. There were runes carved into its flesh… At first, he hadn’t thought much about it, not that there had been much time for contemplation. But after Seeing Rhone’s reaction to them, he knew it was definitely not a natural occurrence.
The others didn’t say much about it, but he could see the unease it brought to the group. He could feel the tension beneath the surface as they had made their way here. Even Hadi seemed to pick up on it. Only Red seemed unaffected, leaving him to wonder if anything could faze the big hunter.
The front door of the tavern creaked open, letting in a cold breeze that blew against Y’rid’s skin. He looked up to see Rhone and Kali enter and shut the door behind them. They made their way over.
“So?” Red asked as they reached the table.
Rhone sat down and waved to tavern maid, gesturing at Red’s tankard, while Kali spoke, “The mage is working on him now. She apparently knows a few runes that might be useful, ones that could accelerate the body’s natural healing. She should be done by tonight, though he would still have to take it easy for a few days.”
The maid arrived with a new tankard. Y’rid caught a glint of silver as Rhone passed a coin to her and raised the tankard to his lips as she left.
“Tomorrow we’ll buy some supplies and get back on the road,” Rhone said, putting down the ale.
“Shouldn’t we wait until Holin is healed?” Kali asked.
Rhone shook his head. “We need to get back to Stronghold as soon as possible. That beast you faced in the forest... we need to know what’s going on. When we get back, we can check with the other teams, see if they found anything like it.”
“What if they did?” Kali asked.
Rhone fell silent and looked at the tankard in his hands before speaking, “Then we coordinate with the others. Find out where these things are coming from and put an end to it.”
“That might be more difficult than we think,” Kali said. “If Holin is right and that creature was once a rish, then what would happen if whatever changed it turned its sight’s towards more dangerous beasts?”
“Whoever drew the runes would need the beast alive. The stronger the beasts are, the harder it will be to capture them alive. If I’m correct, then the reason that won't happen is the same as to why no one has the Aspect of, say, a gorger.”
“Let's hope you are right then,” Kali said.
“I’d rather have the mage that drew those runes long dead by the time we reach Stronghold.”
“What exactly is this Aspect?” Y’rid asked. “Holin mentioned it when he…”
He paused and looked over to Hadi. Probably best that the boy didn’t know that.
“I suppose we need to discuss what you saw,” Rhone muttered.
Rhone threw back the tankard downing the rest of the liquid. Then he stood up. “Walk with me.”
With that, he turned and strode out of the inn. Y’rid looked at the others, to which Kali only shrugged. He stood up and followed after Rhone, giving Hadi’s shoulder a squeeze as he passed the boy.
The cold air outside sent a shiver down his back as he stepped through the doorway. He saw Rhone walking a few paces ahead and quickly shut the door before hurrying to catch up with him.
Y’rid fell into step alongside him and waited for him to speak but he didn’t. A few people passed them as they walked, going about their own business, though they made way for the pair whenever one of them caught Rhone’s gaze.
One man was busy stacking wood into the braziers lining the streets, getting ready to light them for the long night. With the day being so short, people were active long after the daylight faded.
After a few minutes’ walk, they arrived at the wall surrounding the city. It was a sturdy construct made of multiple layers of wood, ten feet tall and wide enough to support the walkway on top. Rhone walked to a staircase set into the side and began making his way up with Y’rid following.
A guard stood at the top and moved to intercept them when he noticed the two, but halted when he looked at Rhone. He took a step back and nodded warily at them, allowing them to pass. They continued along the top of the wall until they were away from any guards patrolling the walkway.
Rhone then stopped and looked out over the forest past the clearing.
“So…” Y’rid began after a while, seeing that the other man didn’t want to start the conversation. “What exactly is the Order?”
“The Order… are simply a group of hunters dedicated to keeping the tide of beasts at bay,” Rhone said.
“But it's not that simple, is it? What are you? Shapeshifters?” Y’rid paused. “Holin… transformed… into something. Something not human. I might not know a lot about hunters, but I know that is certainly not simple.”
Rhone nodded. “Let me ask you a question. What do you think of the beasts that roam this forest?”
Y’rid frowned. What did he think of the creatures? These powerful, primal things that seemed to prey on any weaker than themselves. This had actually bothered him for a while. Not the monsters themselves but his acceptance of such things.
He had pondered this thought until he realised that this acceptance stemmed from the memories he inherited from the body’s previous owner. After all, to him, these creatures hadn’t been unnatural at all. To him, they were simply a part of life. A looming threat that hung over everyone, yes, but one that he grew up with.
“They are a threat to people,” He finally said. “They are the reason why we hide behind walls, and why most people never leave the cities they are born in.” – He felt his voice rise – “They rob people of their families. Wives of their husbands, husbands of their wives and children of their parents.”
He could feel the thoughts and opinions of the boy overlaying with his as he spoke. He tried to keep his voice calm but he couldn’t stop the hint of anger that flared to life inside him, anger that tried to hide something far more painful. He would have been hard-pressed to find the point where one’s thoughts stopped and the other’s began.
“And so you want to stop them?” Rhone questioned, looking towards him. He met the man’s pale eyes for a moment before looking out at the forest.
What did he want?
Revenge for the death of his father? The boy’s father? The impulse was there but it felt lacking. He knew he would never be able to find the one that killed the man. Even if he did, what would it accomplish?
Killing beasts to prevent others from sharing the fate he did? How many would he be able to kill himself? Even if he killed one every day for the rest of his life that would certainly not even put a dent in their numbers.
Deeper then.
His own family? The women and the girl he left behind? Even as he thought of them an ache grew in his heart. But on some level, he knew how unlikely it was to ever see them again. He found himself in this world as the result of an experiment, one that obviously didn’t go exactly as planned.
Yet it was magic that brought him here, if anything could take him back then it would be that same magic and the mages that used them. The wielders and scholars of powers barely understood. If anyone could find a way back to his previous world than it was them. But would they not have done so if it was possible? His own world was certainly a lot more hospitable than this one.
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No matter how he approached the problem, he found himself without the necessary knowledge. Holin had once mentioned that Stronghold had an extensive library, dating back to its founding. Though few other than their resident mage, who spent most of his time there, had much knowledge of the scriptures inside.
He might be able to gain some insight there. It was a dim hope, but it was the only one he had. And to explore this hope he had to join the Order. He didn’t know the answer that Rhone was looking for but he doubted that that was it.
There was something else he also wanted to know though.
“What is the ritual?” He asked. “I heard Holin mention it. At the time I assumed it was some sort of initiation but, looking back, there has to be more to it.”
Rhone stayed silent for a moment, his face unreadable before he finally answered. “The Order was created to combat the strongest of the beasts. A skilled group of hunters can take down an ald, but some beasts remain above the reach of people. To kill a gorger would require many people. I’ve seen a group nearly a hundred strong get their numbers cut in half before they managed to kill it.
“To face such creatures, people have to rely on more than swords and bows. So groups of people began searching for ways to increase their power. They turned to magic. Some succeeded. The Order was one of those that did.
“Back then they had decided that to face beasts they had to harness the power of beasts. And take it for themselves. The binding was created. A way to capture the essence of a beast and merge it with a person. That is what you saw. Holin utilised the essence of the beast inside him, his Aspect.”
Rhone paused, letting the information sink in.
“And he is in control of this… Aspect?” Y’rid asked. He could still clearly recall the bloodlust he saw in the eyes of Holin back then. It definitely didn't feel like anything he had felt from a person before.
Rhone nodded.
“And all of you have this ability?”
“Yes. The Binding increases your physical abilities and grants but also grants an Aspect. Whether this was intentional when the ritual was developed or not, it always happens. Though the effects of your Aspect depends on a number of factors. Some are barely affected. While others…” Rhone’s voice trailed off.
“Why are you the only ones I’ve seen so far,” Y’rid asked. He had only seen the group he had been travelling with, and most people seemed surprised when they saw them. “If this ritual gives you the power to resist the beasts, why aren’t there more of you?”
“The Ritual does not come without its costs. One at the initial Binding and one you have to live with for the rest of your life. Many do not survive the first. Back when you said you wanted to join the Order, I told you that you would likely not survive. I meant it."
Rhone paused for a moment. "I asked you what you wanted to do about the beasts. Having a clear goal can help you through the Binding. The stronger it is, the greater your chances of success. Everyone has lost something to the monsters. Some seek revenge while others simply don’t want to live in fear. These reasons may seem strong to you but when faced with the essence of a beast, more often than not, they are found lacking.”
Rhone turned away, his eyes gaining a far-off look as he stared out at nothing in particular.
“I still have things I need to do,” Y’rid said, more to himself than Rhone as the image of the girl’s face sprang to his mind.
Rhone turned to him and looked at him for a long while, before finally nodding. “I hope it is enough.”
They stood in silence for a few moments before Rhone spoke up again.
“It is not too late you know,” his tone was gentle. “You say you still have things to do. You and Hadi could make a life for yourselves here. A good life. Don’t be too eager to through away the opportunity. You could join a hunter group or the city guards.”
“No,” Rhone said, as Y’rid opened his mouth, “don’t answer me now. Think about it. We’ll leave tomorrow. No one would blame you if you decided to stay.”
Rhone turned to walk away before stopping. He looked back over his shoulder. “And if you do decide to stay, I ask that you keep this conversation to yourself. We already have enough trouble with the suspicions and fear from others without more stories to feed the flames.”
The man walked away leaving him alone on the wall.
Y’rid considered Rhone’s offer. He really tried to. He could make a life for himself here, or in some other city. But he knew he would regret it. He would always wonder about the life he left behind.
However, even if it wasn't by his own will, he was given another chance at life. Wouldn’t he be a fool to trough it away in search of one he had already lost?
He found himself walking along the pathway on the wall, the conversation replying in his mind. Nothing came without cost. Red would say that there always needs to be balance.
From the moment he had seen Ritter in action at Riversedge, he suspected that there was something more to them. This only increased when he started training with Holin. The man’s movements were too fast and too precise.
He could attribute it to the man being a genius when it came to swordplay, blessed with ability beyond that of average people. That illusion was shattered when he saw the half-beast, the man's Aspect.
From his inherited memories he knew the boy, his body's previous owner, had never really paid much attention to anything that wasn’t of immediate importance. He was sure he had heard of the beast-eaters when living in Riversedge, but couldn’t recall any details other than the general wariness most had of them.
Thinking back to the reactions others had towards them, he finally felt like he understood a bit of it. He doubted many people had seen the Aspects of the beast-eaters, but stories and rumours would certainly have sprung up.
Two prices, Rhone had said. Maybe this suspicion was the second price, the one they carried with them. But it felt like there had to be more to it. It felt like Rhone had been a bit vague when talking about the ritual, even if he had emphasized its danger.
But he knew they didn’t owe him any explanation. He should have been happy with what he had already received.
Y’rid watched the guards as they patrolled the wall, scanning the horizon for anything that might pose a threat.
The way he saw it, he had two paths ahead of him. One familiar, a path he had walked in his previous life, though the scenery was different, he was sure it led to the same place. He might have been content with it were it not for the nagging suspicion that there would always be a part of him that felt something was missing.
The other path he could barely see. It wound its way through the unknown. Where it ended, he could only guess. How far it stretched was an even greater mystery.
He stared at the forest in the distance. At the twisting trunks of the old trees. Passed them into the darkness of the deep. He lifted his gaze to see the rays of the setting sun shining through the canopy, revealing the vibrant green of the leaves spotted with colour here and there from flower-bearing trees. Higher up, the background sky was painted a bright orange that faded to a light blue.
Even in this world, were beasts thrived, beauty was abundant. Thoughts of the Endless Night, the glowing plains and the great jungles filtered through his mind.
Becoming a beast-eater might end his life sooner than he wanted, but it would show him so much more. It might also help him recover the knowledge he had lost and return him where his heart longed to be.
He small smile touched his face. He realised then that he had already made the choice.
***
Lerann carefully went over the constructed rune array, making sure that each of the Two-hundred-and-forty-seven runes was flawless and in its proper place. As he had done for the last thirty minutes.
He nodded to himself and waved towards Shara. She had been his assistant and student for nearly twelve terms now and was quite familiar with his mannerisms. She would probably want to make a name for herself soon. Just thinking of spending all that time to train a new one gave him a headache.
She quickly returned with a man in tow. He was dressed in clothes that had seen far better days, the frayed edges as dirty and unwashed as the man himself. Just another sign of unequal opportunity. Lerann shook himself before his mind could start to drift. His work would change that.
“Lie down on the table,” he said, gesturing to the stone table in the centre of the room, surrounded by the carved runes.
He missed his tower. He had spent so much time to get everything into the right place, only to have it overrun by beasts. At least he had managed to complete one resurrection, even if it was barely in time.
Today would mark his second trial and, if everything went as planned, the start of a new future. Altered runes and a reconstructed array, the largest and possibly the most intricate change anyone had ever done to a spell since the ancient times. A task not for the frail minded.
He had long pondered as to why the great magi of the Old Age had placed such requirements on the spell to begin with. He had finally reached the conclusion that there simply was no need to refine it back then.
There might not have been any want for resources at all. And while this did not entirely explain the requirement for a human sacrifice, there could have been other reasons for that. After all, they only knew what the spell did, not what it was used for.
If only he could go back in time, and study under one of those great mages. The things he would be able to learn…
The man got onto the table and laid down. Lerann stepped up next to him and placed his hand on the man’s forehead.
“Close your eyes and relax. Do not fight it.”
The man nodded and Lerann felt his defences drop. He quickly formed a simple array in his mind, locking the runes in place and willing his them into existence.
A simple spell commonly taught to students, one designed pull out energy from the environment, lowering the temperature. He had modified it a bit, however, to dull the senses to keep the target from actually experiencing it as more than a cool breeze.
For a simple array such as this, he didn’t even need to physically draw out the seven runes that it consisted of, he could simply keep the image locked in his mind and fuel the spell from there.
He felt the effects take hold as the man’s skin started to cool and his heartbeat began to slow. A minute later and he was looking at a fresh corpse. A peaceful death, one many would have preferred.
Even if the array didn’t work, he would probably have saved the man from starving to a slow and very painful death. And the man would also have contributed to the betterment of everyone’s lives, something certainly worth dying for.
Lerann took a few steps back until he was outside of the array carved into the floor. He closed his eyes and turned his focus inward as he spread his arms with his palms pointing down.
He gathered his will into his palms and slowly extended it downwards, reaching the first of the runes. He felt a small piece of his energy drain, like an involuntary breath escaping from his chest, until the rune couldn’t hold any more. He shifted over to the next rune in the array and repeated the process.
The felt the connection to the runes build as he poured power into them. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel them beginning to light up as he went through them. The pulsing energy was dim at first but quickly brightened. By the time he reached the hundredth rune, the floor was glowing. He felt the weariness building in his body, but he pushed through, continuing to power the array.
His hands began shaking, his forehead dripping with sweat. Even the simple act of standing took effort, but still, he kept pushing forward, willing the runes to activate and calling the concepts bound to them so long ago into reality.
Finishing with the last rune, he let out a shaky breath as he opened his eyes, almost shutting them again against the blinding light, the visual image overlaying with the mental one. He felt the hair on his arms rise as the energy contained in the array hummed through the air with each pulse, like the heartbeat of some giant animal.
In his mind he recalled the array, going over each rune as he forged the connections between them, stringing the ancient words together into a coherent concept. A sentence of power forcing reality to bend to its will.
With a building excitement, he grasped at this structure and guided it to the corpse lying on the table. The runes flared in a sudden burst of energy before winking out.
He stumbled to the side as a wave of weakness rushed over him. He reached for the wall, trying to keep his balance. His body ached, but he ignored it and blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden loss of light, unwilling to miss a single moment.
With unsteady steps, he walked over to the table and pulled his notebook from his robe. He patted his robe searching for the quill, but could not find it.
“Quill!” He shouted over his shoulder at his assistant, not daring to take his eyes off of the now spasming corpse. “Get a quill and ink!”
He reached the side of the table, instinctively forming an array for light in his mind, willing the ball of brightness into existence over the corpse as he bent over it. The simple light spell consumed the last of his energy, but he didn’t care, he had to see the results of his work.
The body continued jerking for a moment before stilling.
No, it has to work.
The eyes snapped open and a hoarse mumbling cry escaped the corpse’s lips as it started flailing. Its eyes turned in different directions, one of them focusing on his face as the other swivelled around.
Startled he took a step back as the body reached up and began clawing at its own chest. Wrangled sounds escaped its mouth as its ripped at its own flesh, as if it was trying to shed its form.
Transfixed, Lerann stared at the coprse, blood spurting out of its chest as its hands tore at it. One of its hands closed onto a rib and pulled with a loud snap. A few drops of blood landed on Lerann’s face, the warm sensation barely registering as he took in the sight.
The corpse struggled for a few more moments before giving a final strangled croak and falling limp, its chest a ruined mess revealing the bloody organs inside.
Lerann focused on the wound for a moment before looking at the lifeless and glazed eyes of the corpse.
For a few minutes, he silently stood there as his mind raced to process the events, trying to find any meaning in the horrific sight.
Where had he gone wrong? The array was supposed to work. He had been so careful in its construction, slowing improving and building upon the original he had used at Riversedge. Even if he had misunderstood a few runes, they shouldn’t have produced such a result. Not after his previous success.
Did the man go mad in his time he spent after death? No, that couldn’t be the case. There were records of resurrections being done days after death. As long as the body was preserved it should still work.
Did his spell somehow damage the man’s soul? Not impossible but rather unlikely considering his first test's result.
Maybe a fault in the binding of soul and body then? It certainly seemed like the man didn’t have control over himself. But why would he claw at his own chest like that?
Questions raised in his mind, possible scenarios that he struck down as soon as they came. But they didn’t stop coming.
He sighed. He would have to go back to the rune array. Deconstruct each rune to try and figure out the flaw and then rebuild it from his previous attempt.
He tried thinking back to the conversation he had had with the previous subject back then. He wrote everything down in his notes, but he had gone over them a hundred times. Nothing pointed to anything like this. He had simply been too ecstatic at his success and too eager to improve his spell to thoroughly question the young man.
I should never have let the kid go.
Mentally berating himself, he turned around to see his assistant standing behind him. Her face was pale and her eyes focused on the corpse, the inkwell and quill forgotten in her unmoving hands.
“Get someone to clean this up,” He said as he walked past her, barely noticing the widening of her eyes and horrified expression. “And find out if the man had any family. Send them his pay if he did.”
A setback this may be. But it was only that. Simply another obstacle to overcome in the reshaping of society and their understanding of magic. A small price for freeing his entire species from death and oppression.
He had much work to do.