Rise Again - Chapter 2 - Full

Hello Everyone! This is the complete second chapter of what I guess will eventually become a novel. It's unedited as of now, because it's late, I'm tired and more or less just want some feedback. And now I actually have a real name for this series instead of my uncreative place holder. Also the entirety of this is subject to change (It's mostly a rough draft at the moment) and I will also be editing key parts if you convince me that they're not what they should be. And If you missed it, you can find chapter one labeled as "Heroes" in my portfolio. For all of you who have already read my "part one" edition of chapter two, feel free to find your place more or less halfway down.That's all I really have for the moment, so thank you for your time and support, and I will be continuing this series on a probably two week basis, so I hope to see you all again next time.

For such a short portion of my life, five years seemed like a millenia. Five years since I played the part of the begrudging headsman. Long enough for the details to become blurry- with the help of heinous amounts of drink of course. Unfortunately though, it didn’t seem long enough for the guilt and disgust I’d been wallowing in to dilute. So, like each and every other morning in the past five years I gave the innkeeper a groggy glare and ordered up another draught. By this time it was routine. He brought me my favorite, of which he always made sure there was plenty in stock and inquired for the coin I now owed him. I then achingly reached into my back pocket for the copper coins that always seemed to be there. It was nice not having to worry about money. Otherwise I’d have to sober up and step back out into the damned world to make my way. And one thing I didn’t want to do was sober up. It made the crimson come clear.

On the other hand, what wasn’t nice was knowing what the money came for each and every evening. It came for compliance. It came for blood. And it came for keeping the world the way it was. My drink was insured so long as I didn’t step into the world to make my way, and as disgusting as it was, that was fine. Especially in the mornings when the drink started to wear off, and the slow buzz in my head began to fade. In the mornings I got the privilege of reflecting on my sins, my cowardice, my selfishness. And so each morning I reached down for the copper in my back pocket and laid it down on the bar. And life went on. Or rather it didn’t. But that was fine so long as I had my drink, and drank my drink till I was drunk enough to kiss a dog and call it pretty.

It went on like this for five whole years until one fateful night on the end of one fateful day. It started like any other, with groggy glares, with bloody copper, and a town painted red. That’s when the strangest thing happened. After I had drunk myself to sleep, and moved on to awaiting the next meaningless day, A garbled cry pierced the darkest corners of my dreamless sleep, and I awoke with a start. Sober.

The sensation was odd. Sobriety that is. I could hardly remember thinking straight, and with my newfound clarity, I took the time to take in my surroundings. The first thing I noticed was how late it was. In that dim, dusty, adobe inn lined with sable wood, I was one of two remaining. The other being a chubby, balding customer slumbering in the far corner clutching a tall mug of ale like his first babe on a cold night. It was dark too, with the whole of the room being lit with three candles burning low in their wax, interspaced evenly in a scattered pattern.

Curious as to what had woke me, I forced myself from my rickety stool at the forefront of the bar and took a few stumbling steps towards the bolted oaken door which lay but a yard or two to my former left, remembering how to walk once more. About halfway to my objective I clumsily scuffed the toe of my old brown boot on the sandy floor and lurched face first into the door with a thunk and a curse. Shaking it off, I unbolted the door and peeked into the long twilight alley beyond, taking my first breath of the outdoors in half a decade. It was as if drinking a cup of water after a long trek through the afternoon desert. A common sensation, I recalled, in my current locale.

With a new sense of awareness, but in a wondrous daze, I took a hold of the adventurous feeling welling up within my chest and stumbled past the door into the alley gazing blankly up, past the low huts and squat sandstone towers that made up my unfamiliar home, into the brilliant night sky speckled with brilliant stars against a quiet blue cosmos. And along with the spectacular image of the infinity from whence I came returned the memoirs that made up my existence. The epiphanies and confusion. The adventures I had become so accustomed to. The love, the lies, the loss. Especially the loss. And with the remembrance of the loss the rest came flooding back to be crammed down my throat. The loss, bitterness of the betrayal, and most of all the guilt. Down from the night sky it came, like a lion at the scent of wounded prey. Terrifying and unbearable.

Forgetting my cause I chased myself back through the great oak door from which I had stumbled, eyes closed tight, playing keepaway with the memories. In my haste I had failed to take notice of the innkeep and barreled straight into him, leaving us a few paces from where we started, and awkwardly off balance. Regaining his footing he pushed me off with a curse, and faced me down bewildered.

“What are you doing?!” he inquired, exasperated. Stunned at the tide of everything that had chased me through the door, and the surprise of my encounter with the innkeep, I struggled to find a response. He wasn’t a big man, my five year’s acquaintance. He was of an average build, and would have been bigger in his youth, but now he stood with a slight stoop that complemented his crooked complexion, ancient brown eyes, and long grey beard and mane with the tell tale signs of age. That being said, he certainly stood as if he were a big man, and that was enough for him to be intimidating.

“What?!” he repeated, snapping me out of my stupor.

“I- I was- there was a- a cry? For help I think!” I stammered in a hushed tone brought about by his. “I was just going to check if anyone needed help. I thought someone was in trouble...”

“Well you’ve been dreaming then.” he replied with a glare. “I didn’t hear anything, and there certainly wouldn’t be anything going on at this hour.” Taken aback for a brief moment, I organized my thoughts.

“But there was someone calling for help! I’m sure of it! I swear!” I explained.

“If there was someone, I didn’t hear it.” He continued, “You can go looking if you want, but for god’s sake, keep that door shut. I don’t want to have to deal with any unsavory characters at the moment. Especially with some sort of deranged killer on the loose, and the town guard too shaken up to do anything about it. I’ve got a misses and children to worry about. So let’s make up your mind, and let me close that door.”

“Okay, okay.” I replied pondering my option. I had heard something, and if someone ended up dead because of my unwillingness to take action- well I had definitely made a decision with that self inflicted remark.

“I’m going to go out and look. Just incase.” I returned with a sigh.

“Fine by me, just watch your back, and don’t expect me to let you back in until the sun’s risen again.”

That gave me pause. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to deal with so much clarity, and not to mention time to myself if I ended up wrong. But no. The decision was made.

“See you this morning then.” I muttered reluctantly. I then spun stiffly on my heel, and marched out the door, as unfalteringly as I could. I felt strangely naked as I stepped into the starlit alley for the second time in the minute.

Where the the room I had come was dark, the alley was pitch black, and lined with what were seemingly bottomless pits of ebon ink, courtesy of what little shadows were produced by the faded luminance provided. There was no moon tonight, and the only real guiding light was filtering from the latticework windows that peered into the inn and a flickering lantern hanging fifteen paces to the left. Doubting it would be missed, I relieved it of its hook, and threaded my way down the path, guided by the ember glow.

As I left the melancholy comfort of what had sadly become my home, my fingers came alight with the buzz of nervousness. I had never been a frightened man in the face of the dark, something Roark could never have prided himself in, but that didn’t matter tonight. Every crack beyond the reach of my high held light became a hiding place for monsters to lurk, prepared to pounce and relieve me of my hard won life. I found myself jumped at every sound, no matter how small. Even the muted shuffle of my worn boots made me uneasy, and I could not help but feel as though I crept under the gaze of some malignant twilight spectre, concealed in midnight murk.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally came to the end of the alley; an opening into a thoroughfare paved with sandstone. Little comfort it was, as it stretched on in either direction like a gigantic subterranean tunnel, with torches interspaced in the distance like red fireflies hanging above lopsided doors, and where the corners of uneven buildings melded with each other. I paused in hesitation. If I had heard a cry, how would I find the victim in such a dark city? How did I even know it was this way? Did I really even hear something? Doubt crept into my mind.

I waited, unsure of what to do. Trying and failing to think out my next step as the dry desert wind crept up the city walls to wring itself around the brightly colored hangings and signs that adorned the stalls and markets visible in the day. Ten thousand yards of cloth shivered and flapped in the breeze like ghostly whispers in my ear. I quickly became a superstitious man as I felt my heart drum out a quickening beat within my chest.

As I turned to flee back to the doorstep of my refuge, the night brought a blessing. A sneeze shot out of the dark with the same consistency of a bolt sprung from a crossbow. My reaction would’ve been the same for both. I spun to face the direction it had come in a ducked stance as what remained of the disturbance echoed around me. Holding the Lantern high above my head, I could barely make out a stack of barrels inset in the wall on the opposite side of the thoroughfare. Inset with enough room for a small person to fit between them and the wall.

I approached cautiously, my mind darting back to the monsters I had created in the invisible cracks. Halfway across, I started at the sudden calamity of a brick knocked loose from a high perch further down the thoroughfare, and froze in my tracks. I only relaxing again when I had made out the harsh yowling of tomcats echo up from down the street. I persevered in my endeavor with a faster and more urgent pace.

I quickly reached the shade between the wall and the stack, and held my light forward to shed light down the way. To my surprise, there cowered a small, wide-eyed child, bathed in the candlelight, and clad in a ragged cloth dress with faded coloring, her back against the far end of the space. She had long, straight auburn hair, and round face with soft features. it was obvious that she was terrified. We stood there staring at each other for many long moments, each afraid to break eye contact, as if the other might disappear if we looked away.

“Uh… Hi?” I stated, not sure what to say. At the sound of my raspy voice she made herself smaller, pressed harder against the wall, and began a slow panic.

“Oh, no, I’m not going to hurt you! I just heard a call for help. I think… And I was wondering if it might have been you.” I stated, oh so ingeniously as I took a small step back, alarmed that I had frightened her, and desperate to repair my mistakes. She made no response.

“Um… Who are you? How old are you anyway? You probably shouldn’t be out here at this time. Where are your parents? What’s your name? I can take you back to them if you’re lost, though you probably know this place better than me...” I machine gunned, saying whatever came to mind, desperate to fill the silence that had been pressing down on me like static over a radio. She still refused to respond, only daring to follow me with her big brown eyes. Unsure of what to do, I wiped my brow with my sleeve, breathed a heavy sigh, and collapsed against the cold stone wall, and considered how monstrous I must look after five years at the bottom of a bottle.

We sat in silence for many minutes, the thought that I might be the only thing preventing her from leaving cropped up more than once, but I was unwilling to move out of sheer lethargy. Finally the silence was broken by more than the persistent wind.

“My parents,” She breathed a deep breath. “are dead.” She let it out with a troubled sigh. I cursed under my breath, alarmed at my blunder, and listened to my vilification bounce across the walls.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean to-”

“I think. They're dead.” She interjected, a blank and worried look displayed across her face. That gave me pause.

“You think? What?” I questioned, suppressing the tide of curiosity that bubbled up from the depths of my mind.

“I think, meaning I’m not sure.” she shot back angrily, before the strength left her body, and she started a slow collapse into tears, her face in her hands.

“Woah, It’ll be okay?” I said ineffectually, a grimace plastered across my face, as I scooted myself closer to the girl in a pathetic attempt to comfort her. “Can you just tell me what happened? I’ll do what I can to help.” I promised myself more than the girl.

“They came in through the kitchen window.” She began between sobs. “I heard them come in through the kitchen window. I don’t know who it was, I don’t know what they looked like, all I know is that they came in the kitchen window, and went to my parent’s room. I didn’t hear them go there, but they did. I know because that’s when mom screamed. She never finished her scream.” She paused, and collapsed in tears. I felt sick, and didn’t know what to do other than stare off into the darkness beyond our luminous oasis, hand combing my tangled hair.

After a time her lament slowed, and her sobs ceased to wrack her slender frame, and the world once again became silent other than the drumming of my heart and the wind of her shaky breath. She finally worked up the animation to continue.

“I didn’t know what to do.” she whispered. “I stayed in my bed, cowering under the covers for the longest time, keeping as quiet as I could. I don’t know how long it was when I was finally able to work up the courage to escape. I went out the kitchen window. I went out the kitchen window in a blind sprint, looking for somebody, anybody who could help. I couldn’t find anyone. No one would answer their door. I gave up. I gave up.” She finished on the verge of another tide of tears.

I sat there for a time waiting for her to calm down once more, listening to her sobs reverberate across the void that stood beyond my lantern. As my sickness slowly grew to disgust, and disgust ignited into a quiet pent up rage, a plan began to take root in my mind. It was bad, it was cliche, and it would likely end in the loss of an extremity or two, but it was a plan nonetheless. Now knowing for once where I was headed, my patience grew to anxiety, but I waited nonetheless. At long last my self appointed ward had calmed down enough to be silent, and with that I stood.

“Come with me. We need to get you somewhere safe for now. I know a place just down the alley.” I ordered. Exhausted and broken, she offered no resistance to my well intentioned demands. I strode into the inken distance once more, lantern held high. This time with a definitive sense of purpose, and perhaps a friend hand in hand.

“What’s your name?” I inquired, surprised in the care in my voice.

“Vaera.” she responded, a tired sorrow evident in her shy voice. “Vaera Reis”.