Hollow Atraxia

Chapter Two

It was a long walk of silence until she had led them to the outside. By the time they had stepped foot outside the maze of the strange temple, the sun was already rising above the horizon. At least this gave him a sense of direction, knowing that where the sun shone newly to the day was East. He knew that, but he had never actually seen the sun before. There had always been an overcast of darkness that were no mere clouds. It had blocked out the light almost entirely, leaving the world in dark tones. But this place, it had no overcast, there was no darkness. “Time sure flies when you’re trailing a pretty lady through danger,” he chided sarcastically, but she was distracted by something and his attempt to lighten his mood went unattended. “Can’t see how,” he muttered in response to her lack of communication.

As she kept to herself in thoughtful silence, he scanned the area, always on alert. With deep thoughts, he looked back on his life and realized that being aware of everything around ones self was a necessity for survival. Before now, anyways. Around him were the same beautiful trees he had seen previously. Though he knew now it was not a dream, that word was the only way to describe what he had seen then. Listening carefully, he could hear a thousand chirping voices. Shrill, yet beautiful with the slow rustle of the trees and all their millions of leaves swaying in the breeze. A memory of words in an old book he had once read in his younger years came to mind. “Birds?”

“Have you been living in a cave all your life?” The words jolted him out of his speechless recognition. Apparently she was done with her thinking and stood with her full attention on him. He noticed breathtakingly how her long, dark brown hair seemed to glow with the light of the sun, strands picked up by the gentle wind and slowly twirling as if in dance. Their eyes locked together and, oddly enough, there was one strong emotion he felt as her green eyes bore into his; hope. A little embarrassed that a simple damsel could affect him this way, he averted his eyes back to the trees and words jumbled out of his mouth. “I had only ever heard of them in a book.” She gave him a confused look full of askance, but before any words could be said they were interrupted.

What could only be the dull thump of hoof-beats became increasingly louder as the riders approached. The shrill sound of steel being drawn sounded suddenly in the air as the men on horses closed the distance. He found himself reaching for his sword on his back, only to remember that it wasn’t there. Glancing back to the ruins from where they had come, he weighed his options. Unarmed, engaging in close-quarters inside the temple would be advantageous until he could pick off enough of them to insure a clean escape. Turning toward his companion, he prepared to grab her arm and shout for her to run. But one look at her expression stopped him.

As the sharp end of a blade came to rest in his face, so were bows drawn to aim at him. Bows? He thought in puzzlement, bows are weapons to kill men. Surveying the newcomers that surrounded the two, he noted their equipment and critiqued their appearance. In fact, the entire group is barely fitted at all with any weapons that would be used against the dark creatures, a tell-tale sign they weren’t accustomed to them. And he didn’t even bother to mention how unskilled they were with the weapons they held. Their very stances dictated their inexperience.

“Larro,” she, his companion, spoke firmly to the leader of the riders, whose blade was currently at his neck. “My lady-”, the man spoke with deep respect in his voice, but was cut short by her. “Withdraw your weapons.” The look she passed around told she expected to be obeyed without question. Although the man she had named Larro struggled with discontent at the order and almost spoke, he finally obliged and all the men had put away their weapons. Larro nimbly hopped off his horse and stepped forward to bow to the lady, whom the savior of she was starting to believe some sort of princess.

When Larro stepped back again, he stole a glance at the unlikely hero. “May I ask, your Ladyship, who this man is and how he is so important as to you not wanting us to rid him of this world.”

Wow, I think I just made a new friend, he thought with a grunt. Next to him, his partner, the Ladyship, answered that question. “He is a friend, Larro.” It was a brisk statement, countered rudely by Larro. “A friend my lady?”

“Yes,” she smoothly ignored the barb in that question, “he saved me inside… more than I can say of you and your men Larro.” The man looked shocked and humbled at the same time. “Speaking of which, I never did get your name, warrior.”

He bowed seriously to the lady. It was undue to be sarcastic in such a situation, being unarmed and outnumbered, no matter how untrained the opponents are. “As I never did get yours, m’lady.”

“Very well. I am called Vivien.” Larro interjected here, with a serious tone and a face showing pride. “Daughter of the almighty Dret Dawn, king of Erdusk, the most powerful kingdom in all the lands.” Vivien gave him a look of strained patience, seeming not to enjoy the formalities.

“So, Vivien Dawn is it?”

Larro, of course, took that horribly, “That’ll be mistress Dawn to you!”

Ignoring the man, he went on. “My name is Octair Atra-” he stopped in the middle of his given surname. It was more a title than a name, given as a reward for champion, or some such thing back in the days of war and chaos. But he had failed that expectation. “No, Octair is the only name I carry.”

Although she raised an eyebrow in curiosity at his secrecy, she voiced no issue. “I thank you again for saving me from that monster. It was most impressive.” He tipped his head courteously in response to her words of gratitude. “Larro, I’m borrowing your horse until we return to camp.” This she said while climbing mount onto the large war-horse, Larro, unsurprised, voiced no complaints.

Well, of course, Octair thought, she is a princess after all. Larro turned towards his men and gave them orders to accompany the princess back to camp. They all rode off, without Vivien giving him even so much as a glance as they disappeared out of sight. Being left to walk with him, Larro didn’t seem the least bit happy. Punctuated by his silently starting off to their destination.

Octair followed him, also silently engrossed with the heavenly scene around him. What seemed only normal to the natural inhabitants of the world seemed like an amazing miracle to Octair. Used to only darkness beyond measure, lifelessness and evil, simple green trees and the beautiful blue sky were all just incomprehensibly magnificent. For a time he lost himself in the sights of animals he had only heard told in stories of the old age before the Dark Wars. But, as he should expect, peace did not continue on forever, even in such a wonderful world as this.

“You saved her, my lady said.” Larro’s aptitude for the simple continued to astound Octair, or so he thought amusingly. That wasn’t all Larro had to say apparently, as he stopped walking suddenly. It was all Octair could do not to run into him, so he stood facing the man curiously. “I thank you, and I apologize for my behavior.” This he said turning to Octair with a seriousness that left no humor to be found.

“No, I can understand. Apology accepted, and-” Octair stared into his eyes, “you’re welcome.”

Larro bowed his head momentarily in gratitude for the words. “But- Octair was it?” He only nodded. “What exactly did you save her from? The sacred temple is bounden, granting the promise of no harm among any who may visit. Though men may not pass upon the holy grounds of any of the ancient temples.”

Octair frowned at the facts of this new world, an interesting culture, I can see that already. “It was just a dark one.”

Larro’s full attention was with Octair now, curious of this danger. “Dark one? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Really? You don’t have them here?”

“Not just in Erdusk, I’ve never heard of them anywhere. And you say you know them?”

Octair gazed off in thought for a moment. Could they have followed me? Why is it that only since I came here they have appeared in this world? Why do I bring such terror with me? “Indeed, I know them. But even I am bewildered as to how they are here, so illogically appearing in a place they should not be.” Both of them took this thought in silence, but Larro continued to walk without thinking far on it. It would not do to be so pessimistic in such a beautiful world, after all.

Even on foot it didn’t take long for the two to reach the camp. Octair was yet again astounded by the incredibility of this new sight. Although lacking the natural beauty and grace of nature’s trees and animals, the setup of the camp was in its own way magnificent. Compared to the surroundings, the camp was a harsh sight of a jumble of tents lined with the sharp gleaming of metal. He could tell there was a system to the arrangement of tents, but it wasn’t designed for beauty. Every tent was the same dull gray and moss green but for one. A larger tent than the rest, by height and by size, loomed placed in the middle of the camp with its own colors of moss green and deep purple. It was only too obvious whose tent it belonged to.

“Come,” Larro said as he waved passage to a sentry posted on the outskirts of the camp, “I would assume my lady wishes to speak further with you.” He led Octair to the singular tent in the center of camp and there nodded to a guard standing alert at the entrance to the tent. The guard nodded back in recognition instantly and resumed to stare off in duty. Light was dimming outside as the sun began its last descent behind the horizon. And with it, Octair’s heart. For a minute he stood staring at the yellowish light of the sky in the distance in mute depression. Memories of the past welled up within him and the realization of this new world came with them. His face hardened with his known despair, and he glanced aside to the tent where light from a flame danced. It flooded to the ground at his feet as the flap was pushed aside. Larro appeared and waved for him to enter.

Octair did so and inside the tent was revealed another unique beauty. Various rugs, an obvious luxury only afford by the noble or royal, were scattered throughout covering the grass. Only half of the tent was visible to him, the other half blocked by a wall of silk. The other side was most likely where the princess slept. This side held a chair fitting for a lady and a desk carved of a beautiful dark wood. On it were various supplies suited for a member of the royal family. Other than that, there were a few candles hanging from the ceiling and enough room to hold a meeting.

But his appreciation was dulled for it from his despair. Even the sight of the princess in a new more lady-like dress fitting for a princess did nothing to wave away his apathy. He came to his knee in a bow alongside Larro until the melodious voice of the princess summoned them to their feet. When his eyes met hers he knew she had noticed the change in his mood since the temple, he also knew the glint in her eyes for the suspicion she felt in reaction. She focused her attention on Larro, who stood formally straight with absolute attention yet looking into the distance and not at the royalty before him.

“Were there any nuisances on the walk back to camp?” There was a hint of doubt in her voice, but Larro took no notice of it.

“No, m’lady.”

The princess nodded her satisfaction, “Good.” Her eyes found his again and without straying from them she continued to speak. “Larro, I wish to speak with this man alone.” Larro nodded his understanding and left without further commotion. “Impressive,” she now spoke to Octair, “there was not even the slightest objection from Larro, in the little time it took for you to reach here on foot it seems you have gained his trust.” His vivid blue eyes kept her attention completely rapt as he continued to stare into hers like many men dare not do. “What country do you hail from?”

There was a moment of silence before he answered her truthfully. “I am a man of no land, lady.”

“So are you a mercenary then?”

“I guess you can call me such.”

“What is it you were doing in a temple where a man is forbidden to be?”

“It was dark, I was in need of shelter, I awoke to find myself in the room where I incapacitated the beast that was after your life. I had no knowledge it was a place forbidden to me, please accept my apologies for such a transgression.” The way he spoke was dead of any tone, too formal.

She didn’t like it, she much preferred the man who had acted a tavern whore. It made her regret not laughing then. She hardly ever had the opportunity to laugh these days. “Since by being there you saved my life, it is nothing to dwell on. Where is it you are headed now?”

Octair couldn’t think of any excuses, not having any knowledge of the world and the kingdoms would seem strange, especially if he was supposed to be a mercenary. But he thought of one place he knew. “Erdusk, by chance I was heading there.” He held his breath hoping she wouldn’t take to being suspicious.

She didn’t notice anything. “What city?” The question was innocently asked but put Octair in another difficult position.

“I hadn’t decided yet.”

“Then, if it isn’t too much to ask, why don’t you accompany me to the capital of Erdusk? Areth is a beautiful place, and once we reach my father I’ll be sure to pay you handsomely for all that you’ve done.” Unbeknownst to Octair, deep down the princess was hoping strongly for him to accept.

Not being able to think of any real reasons why he should refuse, he didn’t. “Then I shall accompany you to Areth, princess. In what capacity shall I be in your service? It wouldn’t do for me to be just a guest.”

“You’re right, of course, then you shall be… my personal protector. I’ll give you your own authority to come and go. You needn’t take orders from anyone but me.”

Octair bowed slightly in humble acknowledgment. “Then, where may I spend the night?”

“Talk to the guards outside of my tent, they will make room for you in the tent across from mine. It is where all of my personal guards are assigned.”

He straightened from his bow and turned to go, she stopped him as he pushed the flap aside. “Octair?” It was the first time she had said his name and he turned to her with some of his enthusiasm regained. “Thank you.” Accepting the thanks, he nodded his head and the flap closed behind him blocking the light from flooding into the night.

Above him shone a scene that took his breath wholly and washed away all of his previous feelings of despair. Specks of light more than dotted the sky, lighting the darkness of night in a brilliance of shining stars. The entire night sky was awash with them, some forming what looked to be a river of light above. Some shining brighter than others. He didn’t know how long he stood there fixated on that beauty before his thoughts were interrupted by a rough voice beside him. “You’ll be staying in the tent directly in front of you, there will be an empty cot you can have. The food stuffs’ is to your right, the tables and tankards, you can’t miss it.”

Octair thanked the man for the directions and, not quite feeling up to sleep, headed to the right for the commissary. If he could remember correctly, he’d been days and days without food. The pangs of hunger, even starvation, were something he was used to. Had this been his world and he surrounded by darkness and dead black land he would’ve just ignored his hunger. There hadn’t been much to eat then, what with all of the land so dead it made a desert look like paradise. But in such a beautiful world as he was in now, it just wasn’t right to go on an empty stomach.

Everything was all so very new to him, he felt like a child. He was at least familiar with the foods set out in a line under the open tent that was the commissary. A gruff man was behind it fiddling with something out of sight, his broad back facing Octair. Running his eyes over the various platters of food placed systematically on the thin long table made him choke up. Smelling all the sweet fragrances, feasting upon all the sights with his eyes, even the emptiness in the pit of his stomach were things he was suddenly grateful for. It was a tearful moment without any tears, his had dried up long ago. He realized he was very happy to be alive.

The cook turned then and surprised Octair with a light sound of recognition. “Already! By the Third! Ye’d best not be trying to siphon out any extra rations from me, thief!” He waved around a redundantly large wooden spoon still covered with whatever he was stirring, goblets of the stuff flew this way and that with the motion. It was a large spoon by far, as big as any sword, but in the hands of the cook it looked small. After he was done flinging food about he stared at Octair with interest. An awkward silence settled over the commissary then, and in the middle of it the large case of a cook took his thumb to a splatter of food that had landed on his cheek and, still silently staring, stuck it into his mouth. The recipient of the cooks giant gaze didn’t bother mentioning that he still had most of the contents of what he was stirring in his grizzly beard.

“That armor…” the cook grunted his appraisal, “that ain’t no regiment standard. Yer that hired-sword every’uns been talkin’ over.”

Octair couldn’t say he was wrong, but it was surprising to hear it. “Are you sure? I only got here not long ago.” The cook surprised him again by bellowing with laughter, his robust demeanor reminded Octair of a once friend what felt like long ago… He eyed the cook again, except maybe not as dumb…

“Oh I be sure! There be no other but ye that isn’t sworn to the legions of Erdusk here. Ye be a rare case in particular, the princess don’t partially take to hired-swords, nor do most in the ranks.” He gave way to a moment of silence to give Octair a chance to make talk back, but he was one to rather not speak much, if at all. The cook, on the other hand, was quite taken to the frivolity of small talk. Or any talk at all really. “I’m sure ye be starvin enough fer fives lads, and here I am talkin yer ear off! I be guessin that ye don’t have no issued eatin wares, so fer now use this one ‘ere.” He shuffled through a large chest that couldn’t be seen from behind the setup of foods and came up with a dull wooden bowl.

When the giant of a cook handed it towards him and he took it, he realized the bowl wasn’t the size of a teacup, it just looked so in the hands of the large man. “My thanks, I suppose I really should be introducing myself, since I’ll be in your care from now on. My name is Octair, warrior extraordinaire,” he said with a flourish mimicking royalty in a humorous manner, the bowl posing as a sort of crown.

Octair got what he intended as the cook grinned and wiped his hand on his apron before sticking it out in greeting. As they shook, Octair got a very good idea of the difference between the sizes of their hands. “Extraordinaire?” The man laughed, it was a mouthful for him. “Right fine to meet ya Octair, I don’t s’pose ye could tell me yer age, eh? I mean no offense- with yer odd hair it be mite hard to tell, see.”

Octair laughed softly as they let go of the shake. “No hurt from that friend. Truth be said, I’m not really sure of it myself. Where I hail from, see, weather’s always the same. If I had to put a guess to it though, I’d say about twenty-six cycles.”

“Ah, I figur’d ye were from some far land, ye got that look bout ye. I’ve seen thirty-one winters m’self.” He grunted, it was deep and sounded like a dull hammer hitting soft earth. “Almost forgot me name, ill-mannered of me. It be Elk by the way, I be called that, ya see, cause since the moment I were born they say I had the thick legs of an elk.” His deep laughter filled the commissary tent again, “Not so much these days, these days they be like tree-trunks. Move like em too,” it was a moment before the laughter stopped and Elk shoved his giant wooden spoon into the large cauldron of whatever he was cooking and wiped his hands on his apron, adding to the greasy marks already there. “Go ahead and take what food ye like, I’ll run off to supply and grab a pack of supplies ye’ll be needing.”

Elk trumped off then, leaving Octair to imagine the ground shaking with his every step. It wasn’t so of course, he was about the same size as one of his companions. Kurst, a powerful, if somewhat slow, warrior. One of his band that he once led. Octair was left staring at the bowl in his hands, wondering where his companions were. By the Dark, he wondered where he was. But something inside of him knew he would never see his companions again. So he bucked himself up, blocked out his emotions as he was so good at doing all this time, and filled his bowl with soup and grabbed a half of a loaf of bread to eat with it. And he relished it. Mostly he was accustomed to meats and the very rare chance of natures gift of fruits and vegetables. His stomach gurgled as he grew hungrier remembering the past times when he would often go without food for weeks, often eating plain grass whenever it could be found for that alone was miraculous then. And now here he sat, eating foods he had only heard told of in his childhood in a world filled with green.

It was a form of healing, and a damned good one for him. Taking all this in, besides the lower Dark One he had killed, this world seemed to be lacking hardships. The light, the scenery, the people, the food, even the dark made his past seem like a bad dream that had finally ended. If it weren’t for the armor he wore, and the pendant hung around his neck, hidden from sight, he’d think it really was just all a nightmare.

A loud thump accompanied by various wooden clicks startled him, and in his surprise he almost spilled what was left of the soup on his lap. On the table now sat a large cloth bag with an earthen color to it. It was of very simple design, leaving only one flap to open and close. Octair scowled up over his shoulder at Elk. “How can something so damn big be so damned stealthy?” He was a little embarrassed that he had been so out of it that Elk had snuck up on him.

The one who had done the sneaking let out a short burst of laughter and smacked Octair on the back in good cheer, almost causing him to lose his dinner again. “The First must favor you! In return for your services you have been commissioned these goods and are to be lavishly retained on our return trip to Areth.” All of this he spoke extravagantly, and in good humor to get the point across that they had been more than willing to provide for Octair in recompense for saving their princess.

Octair was grateful, especially towards Elk who had seemed to take a liking to him. But all he did was crinkle his brow and said, “You sound funny when you speak plainly.” As it was said in all seriousness, this caused Elk to roar with laughter and he went back to finishing off the rest of the soup.

“Plainly? Plainly!” He was still laughing about it when Octair had downed the remainders of his meal and pushed the bowl to the side. Elk had seen him finish and shoved his pack towards him, it slid roughly and came to a stop in front him, and Octair was glad he had moved the bowl out of the way. “There ain’t be much in it, see. Just yer own bowl, a few tins to carry foodstuffs in, a belt-knife they give to the lot of us when we enlist, a wineskin, though I think they mean fer us to use it fer water,” he gave Octair a knowing wink at the last part, “and whatever space ye got left is fer yer own personal items.” It really was a large bag, and mostly empty on that. He could probably fit his armor with a few other clothes into it and still have plenty of room for a couple of blankets. There were two leather straps he could hoist over his shoulders to carry it and a few loops and strings on the outside of the pack for whatever equipment he needed to bring that couldn’t fit inside.