THE BOY

As enemies lied dead, it was over, and yet, the fight continued with the looming shadow of the unknown and of one’s hidden past.

Saldon rushed to Favian’s side. Redhead was thrashing on the ground, repealing onslaught of invisible attackers. Blood was gushing from his nose as he was muttering to himself something that sounded like, get them off! Rats! Rats!

“Sir?” Saldon’s voice cracked while keeping himself at safe distance to avoid friendly fire.

Boy’s own heart hammered inside his chest like it belonged to a scared little rabbit. The tension refused to leave his limbs, his lungs, his soul. Mind continued to replay the last attack an waited for the next one, with claws and teeth inches from arms and legs. He had been powerless in face of his own weakness. And by looks, the same was happening to his superior. Or so he guessed.

Favian was but a man.

There are tales. Some stay like this, never escaping their nightmare, never stopping to fear. Forever covering under the blanket of the shadow of their past.

“Alive, sir?” The boy tried an age-old question that always had been addressed to him. As if word [Alive] had power over those that had lost their own. Maybe it did?

Favian froze as if touched by unseen hand and blinking looked around. It seemed that he finally grasped that the fight was over and that someone was right next to him, speaking.

If not for the blood, the soldier might have been blushing.

“Heh, yes, but – never again.” Favian confessed gulping, visibly embarrassed.

He looked at the hand Saldon was lending and smirking accepted it to pull himself up. Saldon hid his struggle to lift the bigger man. The boy almost gave out. The man was heavy with all that armor.

For a moment, only the crackle of fire and horse breaths of tired soldiers could be heard. They glanced at each other as if confirming that they still were here.

A couple of nearby scavengers made squeaking sounds, communication among themselves. Favian grinned his teeth.

“Scram!”

As one they skittered away in shadows as if beckoned by word of power.

Now all that’s left was the metal body. They closed in with chalk white faces.

It laid motionless in flames that greedily licked up the remains of the lamp oil on the metal body. Someone/something had ripped chunks from its breastplate and chewed up the left hand's gauntlet. Its large sword was still in his hand. One swing would be all it took to kill them all.

The dark knight laid against a wall that seemed to be smashed in with intense force. Scattered remains of rubble littered the floor. There was blood, black as ink, that covered the monsters gigantic sword and in ark splashed a circle around the place the monsters had fought.

Whatever did this, they were not only strong but also fast, able to finish off a reanimated golem without making a sound. The blood was fresh and yet they hadn’t heard a fight before stumbling on the scavengers. But this was a dungeon, a place where mortal laws didn’t apply.

“Had it been standing when you saw him?” Crewer asked, looking on down the hallway.

Redhead nodded. “Yeah, but you could say,” He spat some of the blood that dripped in his mouth. “ – I saw him just before he fell. As for… who did this, no. Scavengers had already been lured by the blood. I reckon they wouldn’t have come if the victor had stayed… [Track] – shit!”

“Too many?” Even knowing, Crewer asked anyway just to make sure.

“Yeah, bloody creatures.” Favian cursed.

[Track] worked best when there weren’t that many feet to follow. Little creatures had messed everything up.

“Is i’ dead?” One of the brothers asked.

The dark knight didn’t react to them nor the flames that liked its metal body. So was it dead? Or had it even ever been alive? Hard to say with a walking piece of metal. Saldon wasn’t one to ponder the truly deep questions, but at times like this when they started you right in the eye, unblinking, he wanted to turn around and run, but he couldn’t. Getting this thing suddenly awake and attack from the back didn’t sit well with him. Others seem to wordlessly agree. This wouldn’t be the first time when something tried to trick them in letting down their guard.

“You two, keep watch!” Commander pointed.

Both of the brothers took positions, their muskets ready to fire. Although in this dark hallways their aim wasn’t the best, when you shoot bullets that split into multiple tiny ones, all that matted was pointing in general direction. Their job was crowd control. Mages usually did it, but someone taught in arcane arts, cost more than a guy who knows how to point, shoot and reload.

“Favian,” Commander addressed his soldier.

“Yes, sir!”

“Lend me your lantern.” He sheathed his sword to extend his now free hand, palm up, leaving no room for no.

Favian winced inwardly, knowing what will fallow, but complied. Brothers in meanwhile took a step farther, leaving Saldon looking bit confused. He has no idea what will follow.

Commander accepted the lantern with a nod and turned it against the laying down armor. He took a deep breath.

“[Pray]: No evil shall touch this light!” His deep voice resonated with words of power.

Lantern’s light grow brighter, changing is vibrant honey colored glow to cool ice. The flames snuffed out on the metal body as it sizzled as if struck by tinny flashes of lightning. Blood oozed and bobbled up as if boiling in a kettle upon a fire.

The metal body stayed unmoving.

“Either he's a good boy or a dead boy.”

They call it the divine light. The church says that burned away all wicked. In reality, deceivers, unbelievers or those with little bit evil/dirty thoughts (in churches opinion almost everyone) get sick while monsters also sometimes bleed. It wasn’t enough to kill a monster or harm it truly. This skill more was used to unveil the deceivers.

As a lord, commander Crewer knows the most basic of priest and paladin skill [Pray] so in times of need, he could serve his people as a guide if others were dead.

A soft clang grabbed everyone’s attention. They turned ready for attack only to see heaving Saldon, leaning palms on his knees coughing and reaching as phlegm emitted from his mouth and fell on the floor of the dungeon. The young soldier had dropped his lantern and map, that now laid in the puddle of vomit.

Commander quickly snuffed out his skill on looked over Saldon confused. “Boy, when was the last you went to church?” Was the only thing the old man could say.

Others, on the other hand, were more liberal in their comments.

“What a pussy.” One of the brothers laughed. “It be just a headache, ain't ya?”

“It was for A. Unpleasant. Still takin’ like a man ‘at pussy.”

“Men? Ha! Ye should have listened to sisters, be a good boy and go to church!”

“Maybe, Sadon been naughty?”

“Shit, and here A bet on Favian to puking his guts for whorin’.”

“Jealousy is a sin, you know?” Favian remarked winking.

Although he also didn’t look his charming self, be it a fault of the bloody nose or [Pray] skill.

“Enough!” Commander's sharp voice cut the banter. “Ye two – hadn't I ordered to watch?”

Only a greenhorn would dare to say: he didn’t specify what to watch. But that didn’t stop the wiser soldiers from thinking it.

Meanwhile, Saldon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to get the breath back in his lungs.

“I… I haven’t… I...” He struggled, but then straightening, showed a glint of defiance in his eyes. “My mother and father were believers in... the old ways, and so am I.”

His statement had a similar effect of the divine light. Everyone visibly tensed and looked uncomfortable.

Not every day someone dares to admit being a pagan.

Once many beliefs ruled over the world, explaining its inner workings. Then came the True World, granting skills of [Bless], [Heal] and [Pray] for its faithful. It was unlike to the old ways, where its followers sacrificed food, money, lives for the possibility that their gods will answer. Practicality overtook traditions and many were lured by opportunities of free skills. In time, worshipers of the mute gods dwindled and those of the church of The True Word started to refer to them as one – believers in old ways since they're far too few for each religion to call them separately by name. So they even lost their name to the time of forgetfulness.

At least, that is the story everyone likes to tell their stories. The real one as most things in life was much much bloodier. Most stay silent about how the church hates the fallowed of the old ways.

The old ways believe there had been time before skills. The church believes that skills are Gods words of power, given to men to rid this world of wickedness. To say, there had been time with no skills, was to say, there was a time without their God. That didn’t sit well to believers of The True Word.

Had Saldon confessed this in front of the church, he be unofficially executed the very same day while the guards look the other way.

“Ease up, there are no church representatives here.” Favian broke the tension. “Right?” He looked to the commander.

“Right…” Crewe finally gathered himself and nodded. “Boy, as a Lord, I shouldn’t be saying this, but I care not, to who you pray or make offerings as long as you wish for death to all foul monsters in the world. Here, in depth of the dungeon, we have different values from the world outside. And I believe, my men think the same.” He looked for an acknowledgment and got it.

“Yes, sir!” In unison, they sang.

“See, no worries – aside for the map.” Favian laughed and picking it up by the corner to shake off the excess and passed it to Sadon.

That brought a chuckle from the others.

“Ye will build up a tolerance for [Pray] in time.” He patted the boy on the shoulder.

The young soldier had to hang his head, not daring to look them in the eye. “… thank you.” He hadn’t expected a reaction like this. The boy was so used to hate that now he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Alright, enough farthing men. Mend your cuts and bruises, we move soon as ready!”

“Aye!”

“And Favian, do something with that nose,” Commander ordered after noticed that it capt bleeding.

“It’s but a scratch, a nothing.” He shied away. Passably embarrassed by how he got the wound.

“The little things get you in the grave faster then a monster or wife can.” Crewe barked a laugh that made Favina go even redder.

“Right… auch~!” Favian winced after touching his nose. “It does feel like it.”

“Saldon, help ye fellow soldier?” Commander asked.

“Aye!” The boy chipped, forcing himself to feel better after the ordeal with the [Pray] skill.

The tension from the battle finally started to leave their spirits, but none of them ever truly relaxed. Something had killed that metal golem and they didn’t intend to be ambushed.

Saldon leaned down to pick up his lantern when a drop of blood past by right straight on the floor. He froze, for moment dazedly staring on the red spot a few more drops joined before he reached for his face. His fingers came back bloody.

“You should take care of that...” Favian’s voice startled the boy.

He looked up with blood-filled eyes, meeting Favians green ones.

“I..” He was at lost of words.

It all had gone so good but now… Tears of blood, a bad omen for the old ways – a death sentence for the believer of the True Word. This is bad.

“Take care of it.” Favian repeated through clenched teeth.

Others hadn’t noticed. Redhead wide frame hid the boy from the view. Saldon was confused but did as he was told, knowing that others wouldn’t be so understanding.

He closed his eyes and wordlessly mouth, “Goddess of time lost, I offer you this blood covered lie, may you watch over me.”

He prayed using no skill.

This time when he lifted his head, the blood was gone from his eyes and cheeks. His plea had been answered.

“If only it was so easy for me,” Favian smirked surprised and then looking down his own bloody mess, hiding behind the smile thoughts and feelings known not to Saldon.

“Here..sir.” Awkwardly the boy rummaged through his belt pocket, then offered to redhead his handkerchief that he soaked with a medicinal solution.

“Blessed be, thanks. Later, remind me to mend your armor, we can’t let you go on walking around like bear losing its stuffing.”

Saldon blinked and looked down. He indeed looked like toy some kids had fought over and ripped. Sheep’s wool peeked from various cuts and tiers where scavengers had gotten close to him. He hadn’t even noticed it to this point.

“Ah, I’ll do it myself, believe it or not, I’m quite nimble with the needle and have the Skill.”

“Sound like a woman has thought you, that’s good, but that woman had no need to use her skills while still wearing those clothes. I show you some neat tricks on how to do it on the go.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“If loverboys are finished,” The commander laughed farther away, “we're like to move.”

“Yes, sir!”