The Elf Thief

Chapter 6: Through the Fog

Chapter 6

Through the Fog

Dearekk stood at the edge of a deep abyss. Mist surrounded him, its ghostly tendrils curling around his limbs, kissing his skin lightly. And the chasm pulled at him. It pulled at his very being, tugging him closer to the edge, until he was standing over the border, staring into its deep, dark depths.

            Then the voices came.

            They whispered; thousands of voices, hissing stories and whispers of the past, and secrets best left untold. Whispers of ancient evils, battles and things that mankind should have never forgotten, but had been lost, stolen away by the sands of time.

            And they would not leave. He longed for silence, but it never came. He longed to run away from the blackness that consumed his mind, but he found that he could not turn away from the horrible whispers, growing louder, as if they were crawling out of the abyss, growing closer to the freedom with every step he took towards them.

            Memories flashed through his mind, memories that were not his own.

            A world without light completely submerged in darkness. A place that hope dared not venture.

Sweeping though and unknown land, twisted creatures created by the darkness itself, destroyed everything in their path.

            A celestial warrior, dressed in white robes, fighting an immense beast that radiated with dark power.

            The same warrior, casting the beast into a fiery pit, and sealing the prison with something that looked like…land.

            A huge gold beast, with a body like a tiger, and a human like face, but with two horn-like spikes protruding out of either of its sides, and a rider dressed in gold armour, swinging a sword that seemed to glow with its own inner fire.

            The same rider and beast riding along a grey path, dark trees concealing what lay ahead.

            The rider, falling to a creature’s underhand trick. His life trickling away as the enchanted knife plunged into his side sapped away his strength.

            Dearekk could not move. More memories flooded though him. Memories of beasts whose mere presence could send the most brave men running. Memories of a battle between the elements themselves, destroying lives like a child destroys and ant farm.

            Blade-Bearer, they called him. Blade-Bearer, Reaper of the Cursed, Sun Carrier, the names were endless, but he knew of none of them. And he stood there, unmoving, unchanging. He stood there for a lifetime, with memories that were not his running though his mind.

            Then another voice called out to him, one different from the others. When it spoke, it brought silence and peace, after a lifetime of standing on the edge, Dearekk found comfort in the simple voice.

            “Dearekk,” it whispered, its voice full of a soft comfort. He had long forgotten his own name, and the sound of it was foreign to his ears. “Wake up. Wake up, child. You were not meant for this. Do not close your eyes to your past. Awake, Dearekk, awake and remember who you are.”

            It was like a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and finally, Dearekk could move.

            He let out a groan and opened his eyes, blinking as he adjusted to the sunlight pouring into the tent.