Untitled: Part One
Writing prompt for the quote- “Everything hurt.”
As he lay on the ground, taking deep, painful breaths, the man stared at the blue sky that floated above the treetops wondering what had just occurred. Large white spots blurred his vision and his head throbbed. Every time he blinked, his head exploded into a hot fury of pain. Slowly, his breaths started to become shallower and shorter, and his body tingled with shock attempting to push the intense waves of pain at bay. The man’s mind was slowly starting to register the events that took place.
How many of them were there? He couldn't remember. Suddenly a full on slot of pain jolted its way through his entire body and he started to choke and cough up a thick, red substance. Was that blood? He rolled onto his side crying out in pain. His whole body was on fire, and a large wave of nausea flowed over him. His throat burned as the vile vomit splashed onto the ground. He groaned loudly attempting to pull himself up. A rotten smell started to fill his nose and he held back the urge to throw up again.
The man sat up trying to assess his situation. He had been kidnapped, beaten, thrown and discarded deep into a forest. He laughed softly to himself at the irony of it all, but he quickly regretted it feeling another large wave of his torment engulf his body.
“I am getting too old for this,” he hissed to himself as he struggled to pull himself up against a tree. He froze when his eyes fell upon the source of the putrid smell. Just a few feet away from him, dead bodies rotting away in the hot, summer air. The burning sensation rose through his throat again and he slumped against the tree, letting the fluid spill out of his body. The faces of the men were unrecognizable, but he had not doubt in his mind he once knew them. The man’s fate was to lie decaying away next to them if he did not get himself out this mess.
He quickly wiped his mouth and glanced around at the forest floor, trying to find a good stick to walk with. His body screamed and torn muscles did not want to work properly. It had been a long time since he had been beaten to where everything hurt. Everything down to his big toe nail was beaten and bruised. Someone would pay for this. He pictured the face of the man who was the most probable suspect. How he would love to take his old, dark blade to his stomach, but that would have to wait.
The man winced with each breath that he took. It has also been a while since he felt the sting of breathing with broken ribs. Something deep down told him that he missed the excitement and enjoyment of this sort of life. Another chuckle escaped his lips just at the thought. “No man can run from his so called destiny, huh?” he asked the nothingness.
“Hell, where the heck am I?” he cursed into the forest; every word making the sharp pain dig deeper in his chest. His calculated mind quickly started to analyze what to do next. A list of things started to flood the imaginary paper before him. Another groan left his mouth as he took a small, staggering step south. Clenching his jaw hard, he held back the pain, he slowly made his way through the forest.
The man lay passed out, unconscious on the side of a dirt path. The path was overgrown with brush and weeds, indicating that few travelers passed this way through the forest. His body almost motionless expect for the rise and fall of his chest from his labored breathing. Sweat glistened off his body and the cuts that marred his tanned skin were starting to pus and swell. Dried blood matted his hair and tethered cloths.
Deep in his mind he was cursing himself for being weak. Two decades ago, this would not have happened to him. He would have caught the signs that someone had been following him, and that someone was lurking in his safe house. Never had he been ambushed and not aware of it. He was getting too rusty. He cursed at himself for not at the top of his game any longer. He left that life, but it came charging back full force with horns bared. He would be thrown back into the world that he escaped from so many years ago. He was tired, and not getting younger. His mind started to wonder, thoughts about surrendering to the darkness that surrounded him. To be lost in the great abyss, never having to worry about taking another man’s life, or dealing with the regret. Just as he was about to let his life slip into the deep shadows and he let the painful breathing finally come to an end, a jolt of pure, hot energy ran through his veins.
Fury filled every cell in his beginning. Who dare deny him death? Who would dare attempt to use magic on him to bring him back?! Had he not dealt with enough in his tormented life? He came to the conclusion that one of the gods must hate him. His mind was racing and his body tensed the moment he felt himself starting to gain consciousness again. He waited; playing possum, until he knew his vision had also come back to him. Quickly, faster than he thought he could move at the moment, he grabbed who’s ever hand it was hovering above him and quickly slammed it to the ground. He heard the familiar pop and crack that sent shivers up his neck in slight excitement. He jumped up and grabbed the woman’s dark hair and swiftly pinned her to the ground with all his strength, not caring if he broke anything or hurt her in any way. He smirked slightly liking that he had in fact hurt her.
“You should not have done that, whore,” he said through gritted teeth. The woman did not cry out or beg for him to let her go. She simply and calmly laid, pinned to the ground breathing heavily from exhaustion and having the wind knocked out of her. He studied her carefully, surprised at her nonexistent reaction. Than suddenly he let go of her and backed away, eyes wide in confusion.
He looked down at his hands, no longer covered in blood and dirt. His wounds were gone, along with the constant agony of breathing. He took a very large breath of air and laughed loudly when no pain came and the motions of exhaling felt refreshing. His whole body felt more alive than it had in ages. The mental sickness that was slowly eating away at his body was gone. He felt free. He bent down stretching and his mind soaked in the glory of his almost weightlessness. He had forgotten about the discarded girl whom managed to sit up and was watching him blankly with her dark, black eyes. Her sea blue robes where now covered in dirt and mud from the roadside. Her hair was still tousled; she made no move to fix it. Her dull eyes just watched his every move.
Another sensation started to rush over his body. His muscles tensed waiting to determine what type of magic it was that started to flow through him. It soon felt the same warm, pure magic course through his veins. But, as soon as he relaxed his body there was a spike in the magic current. It held malevolent power, and sent the hairs on the of his neck stand on edge. It quickly subsided as fast as it had appeared and returned the pristine presence. He slowly turned his head to turn and gazed into the young woman’s clouded over eyes. His own eyes widened in shock. He kept his body still, trying to analyze all possibilities that could come out of this.
You did not want to die, but we have determined that it is not your time, Tarhe. He held his breath when he felt a small pinch in his mind and than a woman’s voice filled his head. He slightly frowned blinking. He was sure his eyes were not playing tricks on him. The woman’s lips had not moved to allow any sound to project. The sound was not coming from the area around him, but inside him. He slowly let out his breath, his mind finally realizing what was happening.
“You have some nerve not letting me just die,” he said slightly bored. “Didn’t I already get rid of you guys? I already saved your asses once, I will not lend my daggers to your cause ag-“ he was cut off by the sound of the woman laughing.
Think of this as a gift from us, Metsu.
He winced at the word, Metsu. “Do not call me that,” he said softer than he had meant to. He watched as the woman’s face still remained static, not changing.
We do not give out…gifts like this out to everyone. You will take your second chance and make a difference yes? Or not, do whatever you please. We do not care. Just so long as you-
“I knew there was a catch. There is always a catch with you Mages damn it,” he said throwing his hands in the air. He paced, keeping his mind on the ground, trying to think things through. His hang idly rubbing his chin, and scratching his small beard. “What will happen with the girl?” he asked casting a slight nod to the woman’s way but not looking at her.
She is just a vessel for us. You can do what you…want with her. Have your way with her. The woman’s voice gave a haunting laugh. Tarhe frowned in disgust and he shook his head.
He paused his pacing and sighed softly. There was no way out of this mess. “What will you have me do?” he asked defeated.
Simply kill the men who did this to you. That is all we ask for. You managed to piss off some powerful men, which is a good thing for us. You want revenge, we want them gone. If you really want to die, death will come later. Probably sooner than you think it will. We can arrange something?
“You’re not very good at convincing someone,” he mumbled as he tried to weigh his options. “Fine, deal.” He said after a few minutes of listing the pro’s and con’s. Pro’s were that he was alive and his body felt like it was 15 years younger. He also has a chance to go kill off some bastards. Con’s were, well he would be dead.
Than it is a deal, Metsu. We will find a way to contact you again, the woman’s voice said with a hint of warning. He grimaced as he felt the magic flow quickly out of his being and he watched as the young woman fell and collapsed hard onto the ground.
