atmosphericphyre

Stories to be Read.
2004-01-26 21:57:33 (UTC)

Redemption. I

Here it is, the first person in my world. The first player
in the play. He's been with me a long time. Truth be told
I'm kinda partial to the bastard.

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

In the cramped dingy room above the Kraken Inn he lay. The
joyful drunken singing and the sounds of the occasional
fight drift up the stairs to him. He would know the song
as "The Piano Man", a ditty from the days past. However,
he does not notice. He is asleep, and nothing short of the
appocolypse will wake him this night.

If any could see him, his half naked body soaked in cold
blue moonlight, his slumber would appear peaceful and
restful. His chest falling rythmicaly up and down. Up and
down. Over the years he has conditioned himself to get as
much rest from sleep as possible in the worst conditions.
Wars had not changed this.

His rest is not peaceful, though. Tonight his mind is more
alert and aware than ever before.

Tonight he dreams as a child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world was different. He was different. He was weaker,
younger, and the world was older and dead.

He recognized most of the landscape, he could see the
Kalhast Mountains on the horizon. Their jagged-fang like
peaks piercing the dark sky.

The soot grey sky. It's normaly a blue color, maybe cloudy
during storm or purple in the evening, but never this
color. He knew, just KNEW, the sky should never be this
color.

He also knew there should be a glade of oaks down to the
right of the hill on which he stood, and a large sparkling
lake a few miles in the distance. All he saw was a blasted
landscape, a baren plain of parched, red, sand interupted
occasionaly by large thrusts of stone punching out of the
earth.

He knew what wasn't there and he knew what should be there.
He knew because he was home.

Turning he saw that home was gone as well. This, above all
else, made him cry. Dropping to his bottom on the hard
ground he felt great violent sobs escape his lips as tears
fell in drops from his cheeks.

None of this is right, he thought somewhere deep inside his
mind, It can't be right. This could never happen. My
childhood home can not be gone, and I haven't cried since
before my coming of age festival.

"You are wrong, Deriatru."

The voice startled him more than he would like. He should
have heard someone approach, especialy on deadpan such as
this. Raising to stand, a bit more awkwardly than normal,
he turned to find old Sikero.

Sikero, who died by his blade.

"This could, and probably will, happen."

"But why?" Deriatru asked, noticing his childish voice.

"It will happen because the time or fate is over and the
time of choice is upon the world. The rules have changed,
my boy." The old man said, flashing a sad smile.

"Why am I seeing this? Why me. I'm a bad, bad, man." It
sounded silly coming
from a child.

"You're not alone, but you are unique. You have been bad,
You have done wrong." he motioned to his right with a sweep
of his hand. Deriatru no longer saw the deadpan landscape
and blackened sky. No. Now it was much worse.

Now it had become the town of Bune.

"No." Deriatru whispered. "I don't want to see."

But he did. He saw himself, older than his dream form and
younger than his sleeping self, walking into the square.
The market had been bustling that day. Men, Women,...
(no.)
...children walking together, laughing together. Moving
from booth to booth, stopping to watch the street
preformers. Deriatru was just a spot among them. His hand
kept returning to the sword by his side, fondling the
pommel,caressing...
(no. i didn't mean to.)
...the dark leather of the handle. No one could have known
the power he wielded. No one could have known. But, going
to Bune had been a mistake. Going anywhere populated had
been a mistake then. His face was plastered on every wall,
in every window, and the reward was a fortune compared to
what most of the residents of Bune had. They had recognized
and begun...
(please. no.)
...to follow as soon as he walked through the gate. He had
only stopped to get well needed supplies. He had only
stopped for an hour, two at the most. That had been more
than enough time to get the guard (no, no citizen would
risk his neck against a dangerous traitor like Black.) More
than enough...
(i know this well, please don't show...)
...time to circle around, to box him in. The fools, the
innocent fools, picked the town center to apprehend him.
Would he come quietly? Would he ...
(i cannot watch.)
...remove his sword? Of course he would not. Hell is where
they sent traitors, and no one believed him innocent. He
would stand and fight.
(no.)
He killed the first three quickly and cleanly, but the
other ten or twelve could have him anytime they choose.
That, he knew then and now, was when it happened. It welled
inside of him like black fire. Mir had been a conduit of
power. The sword, perhaps his only friend, was screaming
for him to stop...to calm...but he was far beyond that
point...
(oh god.)
...As the point of Mir crushed the cobble stone into which
it was thrust all his power, all the black flame of his
anger burst out. It spread like violent deadly ripples out
from him.

Every man...
(no.)
Every woman...
(please.)
Every child...
(no.)
Every living thing, save himself, to within two miles
beyond the borders of Bune had died.

The dream form of Deriatru looked down, crying, as his then
self ran from the town. He knew well where his then self
was going.

"You have taken from this world, Deriatru. You have taken
one thousand sixhundred and twelve mortal lives. You have
taken and now you must give back."

"What do I give? Tell me!" Little Deriatru cried "My life?
My soul? Please, tell me."

"Neither. Both Perhaps, I do not know. But you will give.
When the time comes you will give."

"Can I change this?"

"If you make the right choice, maybe you can. Maybe you can
save yourself in the process as well."

"I-I want to help. I do."

"I know, son, I know. You must start by understanding
yourself. Now it's time to go. Now it's time to
wake."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the room above the Kraken Inn Deriatru Black woke easily
to the rays of the morning sun spilling through the grimy
window. The dream he'd been dreaming did not fade. It
remained carved into his mind, pulsating in his
sunconcious.

He was rested and calm and not ready to leave his bed.

"Sleep well?" the familiar voice spoke in his mind. He'd
grown used to Mir, after all, they had been together now
for quite a number of years. Deriatru could still hear the
old mans words which had lingered on the wind in the trees
after he had left.
'Bound are the two by magic made one.
Each soul and steel 'til fate is done.'
Mir had turned out to be a fine companion, as far a curses
go.

"Yes, friend."

"Dream much?"

"I dreamt the world." which wasn't a lie.

"Have you figured out where to go from here? We've been
here for two weeks now..."

"Ready to stretch your legs, friend?" He teased Mir,
smiling wryly. He was smiling less because of the taunt and
more because he realized something. For the first time in
years and years he knew exactly where to go.

"That's not funny, Deri, I only meant..."

"I know. I was only pranking. Yes I know where we'll go."
He said, sitting up on the side of the bed. "We're going
back home."




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