Aabahran: The Forsaken Lands

The North Abbey Way
By G.H.Meixner (a-guitarist)

Concentrate. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Concentrate. Steady stance, balance the weight. Concentrate. Ears open, notice the sounds. Concentrate. Slash at the soft spots. Concentrate. Let them use their numbers against them. Concentrate. When they are at your mercy, deliver the final blow. Concentrate.

Their ribboned corpses lay at my feet, body parts strewn around me. I drip with the putrid essence of unlife that ran through their veins, and I hate it. The added weight to my blades is noticeable as I turn to face my aggressor. The King of Devils, he calls himself. His devils, his constructs of flesh and stone and violated life are now returned to their inanimate form.

Our eyes meet. His narrow. Mine narrow. I release a breath, align myself to his front, and ready my swords. His move. Slowly he raises a gnarled, pale hand and points at me. I can feel my heart begin to crumple and wilt as I cringe. May the Gods of Compassion protect me. I fall to my knees, gasping, my lungs begging for more air.

Then I feel it. His hot, foul life exiting his mouth, burning my neck where it lingers. The bastard speaks down to me like I am a child, gloating of the path of the Cycle and how none can avoid it. I’ve heard this banter so many times it has become trite. The words keep spilling from his mouth, and as his monologue expands his guard diminishes.

The time is right. Act now! My elbow smashes into his chest, he stumbles backwards. I spin about with my blade arcing wide and smooth, spilling his blood. His face tells me exactly what he is thinking and feeling. Confusion. I begin to move about him, swinging, thrusting, slashing with my swords causing more blood to fall.

He begins to chant, his words ring true. “Sraojz!” and I can feel my body grow sores. “Saigai!” and my stomach churns. “Noselacri!” and everything goes black. I can hear him cackle, coughing up blood, as he leaves me swinging blindly for him. I don’t have much time, I must find it.

I begin searching within my pockets, my satchels, it has to be here! With every passing moment, I can feel the nausea within my belly gnawing away at my insides. Then, as I begin to stagger, I find in my belt pouch a rounded vial. It’s size is similar to the one the druid gave me two days earlier. The contents fizz over the top as I uncork it. As I imbibe, it tastes bitter. As I swallow the last drop, my vision slowly returns. That druid knows a thing or two more than I’ll give him credit for.

Minutes pass before I spot where the bastard went. East. The ruins of the city make way to a dead pathway, then into the Dwarven Forests. These trees, thick and dense, give a near impermable darkness to the surroundings. I can see a large pool of blood at the base of a tree just around the bend. He sat here to gain his stamina, there is no doubt about this. North is his destination, but from there?

As I begin to move, agony ripes throughout my body. My sores bleed and ooze a foul, black puss. He will pay for this. Using my sword as leverage, I get to my feet. I haven’t much time before he gets to the city walls. I continue northerly and look for signs of his being, but to no avail. Ensuring my abilities to see him, I eat some dust and my eyes begin to tingle.

Looking towards the horizon I see him heading for the Teeth. He won’t make it, at least not if I can catch him. I begin running, the ever growing burning in my stomach aching more and more. When I catch up to him, he is asleep beside a boulder, a mere hundred yards from the city walls. As I approach him, another wave of agony cuts me to my knees. I haven’t much time before I will be felled by this infernal magic.

Forcing myself up and above him, I take my pike off my back. I hold it high above his heart and then kick him in the side. He stares at me and I know he realizes this is where his cycle ends. The blade pieces his chest with no resistance. I have avenged myself. For a moment, I look through his wares. He has nothing of use for me. I can feel the agony climbing through my body again as I look up towards the gates. Not far to go. I can make it to the Healer.

As I enter the city, the guards and citizen give me birth. Some run off screaming for a Healer. I haven’t far to go. The pain builds. My legs grow weary. The street is barren of people. My disease will infect no others if they stay away. I look ahead, North Abbey is before me. And I begin to falter.

Concentrate. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Concentrate. Keep moving, one leg in front of the other. Concentrate. Feel the gravely cobbled stone on my knees. Concentrate. The ground is cold on my cheek. Concentrate. My vision slowly fades to black. Concentrate. Concentrate.