Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 11
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Arc 1 is finished! Though I might change it to 'Arc 2' having the growing up arc, Arc 1.
A few notes about this chapter. This chapter is really dark and I think a turning point in the story. Not a great one but more of a divergence. The next Arc will have much more action in it so be prepared.
This chapter can also be considered the prologue for the next arc so don't be worried that the first third is not from Rajac's perspective. I will not do this often but it was necessary here.
Also there are a few other things I need to note. I will not have a chapter until Friday as I have many organizational things I have to do for the story such as proofing/story line writing/information improving.
One thing I will look into this week, as it had been brought up, is that my story summary is rather vague. I already have one suggestion about what it should be. If any of you want your ideas for the summary considered, please message me or put it in the comments. Also anything you want to know about the story that can be provided WITHOUT revealing plot details go to the Q/A page. Thanks!
----------------------------------------
February 17, 29 R.E.
Muhal rode quickly to the reported site where a Greater Race was attempting to escape. His unit of twenty men, rode quickly behind him. In the nine years since he had fought Rajac, Muhal had made a name for himself in Lord Gaya’s service.
While he had once been a member of the lowly border guard, he had steadily risen through the ranks until he began to join the expeditionary forces in the border skirmishes against the other Demi-God armies within the area.
Over time, he even rose to squad leader of one of those units. And now, Muhal spit disgusted, his squad had been utterly routed. The forty men who had numbered it that morning had been halved.
Lord Gaya would not be merciful. Not this time. Muhal had lost to a squad of Edthar’s, Gaya’s rival. Muhal had heard many stories over the years about what happened to those who displeased Gaya greatly. None of them had pleasant endings. And when the story concerned Edthar, Muhal shivered internally, they were even worse.
But, as his squad was riding back, already accepting their fate, they had intercepted a messenger sent by Kalos, Squad Leader of the Fourth Squad of the Third Commandant of the Third Army of the Border Guard.
It reported that the Ventros had finally had come out of hiding and were making their escape en-mass. If true, it was possible, only barely, that Muhal could gain favor with Gaya who might suspend their fates.
“You three,” Muhal called as they reached the battlefield, “search for survivors.” Three of his men rode off into the conflagration of carrion and broken bodies.
Muhal jumped off his horse, excitement coursing through him. Had the Ventros truly made it? There were broken bodies all around. Many of them looked like old Ventros by their sagging faces and limbs. Had the Ventros decided to sacrifice their elderly?
A small, cruel smile touched his lips. How cold. His heart began to warm towards this weaker race. They had nothing on his Epic Race however. The Rajin were well known in the right circles for their prowess on the battlefield while these Ventros, their day had come and past long ago.
Though, that Ventros I sent to the Circle, he was a worthy opponent, Muhal mused as he walked the battlefield turning over bloody bodies as he checked for any living souls. He was disappointed that he had not arrived sooner. If he had, he would have been able to turn the tide of this disaster. But now, every man who failed to stop the Ventros here would have their families, friends, and, if they were ranking officers, their acquaintances executed publicly to make a point.
After two decades of serving Lord Gaya, Muhal knew how the Demi-God thought well enough. And Gaya did not take failure well. As Muhal came to the center of the clearing he saw a cluster of his men talking animatedly looking down at their feet.
Annoyed that they were not performing their duties, Muhal strode up to them angrily. “What in the bloody hell do you think you are doing?” The soldiers jumped to attention. “Sorry sir!” One of them called as Muhal walked up, “But just look for yourself. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Muhal pushed passed his men to get a good look at what lay at their feet. His eyebrows rose in surprise, as he gazed down at the gigantic whole in the center of the clearing. It was massive; nearly twenty paces wide, the hole looked to go on forever.
Muhal craned his neck down looking into the black expanse. Chills ran through him as he strained his eyes trying to glimpse the bottom of the pit. If I fell down there, I would not survive, Muhal thought perturbed.
“Sir!” One of his men called from near the forest that lay on the edge of the clearing. Muhal backed away from the pit while not eagerly, not reluctantly either. “Yes?” Muhal said an edge to his voice.
The man flinched as he approached with another one of the soldiers, dragging a body between them. Fear, Muhal thought, was the greatest compliment a commander could be given. If his subordinates feared him, then they would never disobey his commands. It made for a tight, regimented squad who would be willing to do whatever it took to complete his orders. In Muhal’s opinion, fear was preferable to loyalty as loyalty could change with seasons while fear proved to be longer lasting.
The soldiers, eyes downcast, walked closer, stumbling slightly as they lifter the body for Muhal to see. A Ventros, his horns long and jutting, a young face, covered by a bloody mask. “Why bring me a dead man?” Muhal asked as he noticed the long, jagged cut that had nearly decapitated the Ventros.
“He’s still alive. ‘Says his name is Temos.” One of the soldiers said. Muhal felt a grin cross his face as hope rose within him. Perhaps Lord Gaya would indeed spare Muhal if he brought this Ventros to him. And if this man knew where the rest of the Ventros were headed, it might even be worthy of a promotion. “Heal him.” Muhal commanded. “Come!” He called turning to the rest of his men. “We must bring this man to Lord Gaya. He will want word of the race that broke his law!”
Clambering onto his horse, Muhal led his men away from the clearing, the despair in his heart long forgotten.
~
Rajac awoke and screamed, pain his only emotion. The sound was muffled as his mouth was impeded by a substance that was both wet and coarse. He tried to rise but his arms and legs screamed in pain as he tried to use them.
He opened his eyes attempting to see his surrounding but all he saw was darkness, except…except…He felt something under him. Kalos. That was it. The Demi-God was under him. Was he dead? Was that why he remained still?
Rajac waited, listening for the sound of breathing. He heard only silence. He had killed a Demi-God, an unheard of feat. It had happened before but only in the ancient stories more myth than fact.
Gods were immortal, all-powerful being who, from the very start, were stronger than most mortals could ever become. Only the few who were considered geniuses of geniuses were able to complete this feat.
But Rajac was not one of them. Even if any who saw the fight lived, they would have said Rajac and Temos lost this fight. Kalos won. It was only a lucky move and the impact of the earth that killed the Demi-God.
Rajac had been lucky, if you could call it that. He tried to flex his limbs once again and only felt a searing pain. All of his limbs had been broken by impact. And so, he was stuck on Kalos’ back, unable to move, in a cavern that had appeared like shrouded mist.
It would be months before his limbs healed well enough for him to walk and search for a way out. Until then, Rajac would have to find a way to survive in this prone form.
Rajac shivered at the prospect. He would have to survive the days, weeks, and months without food or water. An impossible task. Water, he would need within days and food, within weeks. But his limbs were so badly mangled by the fall; they had to remain stable if they were to heal. Though, he needed to make splints somehow.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Rajac coughed slightly as Kalos’ hair coated with matted blood entered his mouth. The hair, slick with blood, unexpectedly eased his thirsty throat. Immediately, though, he wretched at what he had just done.
After a few minutes, he felt like all the contents of his stomach had emptied onto Kalos’ head. He felt most of the sick dribble down to the soil below, affected by the curvature of the Demi-God’s head.
Gods above, did he really have to resort to using Kalos as sustenance to survive? He let out a laugh. It was maniacal in nature as he felt utter disgustion at the necessity and gratefulness that he would not perish due to starvation or dehydration in this dark tomb.
At least, I’m not Temos, Rajac thought. He immediately sobered as he thought of his friend, struck dead by Kalos’ blow. Temos had been a good man. One of the few Rajac had known either in this life or his last. With him, Rajac felt the Ventros could have gone far. But the Council, they were another matter. He felt they were more bureaucrats than leaders. And the way Alberon left Temos and Rajac to die, Rajac felt anger began to bubble in his heart.
Though, it mattered little at the moment. If he could not survive in this cavern, then there would be no goals to reach, objectives to complete, or obstacles to overcome.
Closing his eyes, Rajac readied himself for the pain he would have to feel in order for him to heal properly. There was only one way to do so in his condition. Gritting his teeth, he raised his arms, feeling the utter pain that coursed through him but overcoming it all the same.
Survival was the only thing that mattered at the moment and temporary pain meant nothing if he could not obtain that baser desire.
For a second, he held his arms above the earth, dreading what he would have to do; but that second passed quickly and when it did, Rajac pushed hard against the soil, flinging himself back with all his strength.
Pain lanced through his arms and he tumbled down to Kalos’ legs, barely able to keep himself awake, the pain was so great. But he had succeeded. He wormed himself closer to one of Kalos’ legs until he rested his onto the massive appendage.
Willing himself silently, Rajac tore the thin cotton that covered the leg exposing the skin beneath. Then, he opened his mouth wide and chomped down. Blood and meat squirted into his mouth congealing there. He had to chew slowly as he tried not to gag from the taste, smell, and overall implications of what he was doing.
Time passed as he sustained himself on that leg. He had no idea how long it had been. Darkness consumed his waking world as he lay there waiting until he grew famished enough to consider eating any more flesh. His thoughts consumed his waking hours as he remained prone on the soil, unable to move.
Had the Ventros arrived on Cera Mountain? How was his family? Did they know he was alive? Would Lord Gaya send men after his race?
This pattern continued until one ‘day’ came when there was no flesh left on the leg or thigh bones. Rajac, clumsily, used his teeth to fashion splints for both of his arms using the remnants of the cotton pants Kalos had been wearing.
Reluctantly, he had rolled himself over to the other leg and began to use it in the exact same way. More time passed as his arms slowly began to heal to a point where he could flex them without pain. He continued to sustain himself on the leg until there was no meat on this leg either. Again, he fashioned two splints from the leg and thigh bones.
It was many more ‘days’ before he could haltingly stand without pain and many more after that before he felt his strength began to return to his limbs.
Rajac began to wonder around the cavern searching for an exit; however, it was so dark that he could not go far; otherwise, he would lose his only source of food. The farthest he went was two-hundred paces in a single direction and he never once ran into a wall of any sort. It was as if the cavern was an endless plane that extended in all directions.
Reluctantly, after days of searching for an exit, Rajac returned to Kalos’ corpse and attempted another avenue of finding an exit. Using Wind Elemental Magic, Rajac threw out waves of air as he attempted to feel if any of his wind his any solid objects. But, they were too weak. If his wind hit anything at all, he felt no reverberations like he should have. Over time, Rajac made his gusts stronger and stronger but, in the end, Rajac never felt a single waft of air come back to him. It was as if they disappeared into nothingness.
And so, giving up every other option, Rajac began to meditate, seeking an internal answer for his external problem. And he found one. Due to his training, he knew his body inside and out. Where the muscles overlaid the bones, where his organs were and their conditions, and how fast his heart was beating among other things.
However, when he searched this time, there was something that had not been there before. Adjacent to the small organ that allowed him to perform magic, at least he thought it was that based upon his observations, there was a small pulsating ball of light.
It was miniscule. No larger than a fingernail, it swam in his internal fluids as if it was both a natural and supernatural occurrence all at once neither limited to nor obstructing his body’s internal functions.
Rajac probed it with his mind and discovered something. He had no idea how to describe the feeling he felt from it. It was foreign but natural. He flexed it an almost imperceptible amount and he ‘felt’ it expand rapidly moving over the ground below as if it was following his unbidden commands to search for an exit.
Surprised, Rajac flexed the ball of light even harder. A pulsating wave burst forth from his body, invisible to the naked eye, but Rajac, in his meditative pose, could see the vast expanse of the cavern before him as if it was shone in a bright light.
Only a short time later, Rajac found the exit. It was many miles distant and across a rocky terrain filled with cliffs with sharp edges and craggy recesses that would be impossible to cross in his weakened state.
Reluctantly, he knew the only choice left to him was to stay in the cavern’s darkness eating the flesh of the fallen Demi-God. He shivered at how easily the decision had come to him.
How practical am I that I thought about the morality of what I have to do with the same aplomb that I do when I have to scratch beneath one of my splints, Rajac thought in disgust.
These types of thoughts plagued Rajac as he stayed within the cavern partaking of Kalos for his own survival. For the sake of his sanity, Rajac only consumed the flesh of the Demi-God when he was so hungry he would have gnawed on his own arms for sustenance. Even then, he reluctantly turned to the rotting corpse at his feet and chewed, savoring the flesh like it was a gourmet meal.
During that time, he also began to strengthen the small ball of light that began to grow at a rapid pace until it was the size of a lemon. Rajac found that he was able extend the waves emanating from the ball of light up to fifteen miles but no further. If he tried, the light would dissipate and the pulsating waves would snap back at him like a rubber-band causing no small amount of pain.
In this way, he spent his ‘days’. What felt like months later, Rajac had gnawed Kalos to the bone. Nothing remained of the Demi-God except a few remnants of fleshy rotten meat around his feet and ankles. Rajac had finally regained his strength to the point where he was able to remove the splints from his arms and legs.
The months in the cavern had changed Rajac. Alone, in the darkness, Rajac had become haunted by his decisions no matter what he told himself. There was more than a hint of madness within Rajac as he began to walk the many miles to the exit of the cavern guided by his ball of light.
Previous ChapterMain PageFAQNext Chapter