Bleeding At The Dark
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The world was dark, and it hurt. Pain throbbed in his head as if someone had taken a hammer to the inside of his skull while he slept. He tried opening one eye but couldn’t even manage that much movement before pain overwhelmed him again.
It took all his willpower not to scream out loud at how bad everything felt. His stomach lurched with nausea; he could feel bile rising up into his throat and threatening to come back up. But there wasn’t anything left for vomit – nothing except blood from where something sharp had stabbed through his skin just above his right hip bone.
That’s what woke him… or rather, brought on consciousness after so long unconscious.
He lay still trying desperately hard to remember why exactly things were such an awful mess this time around when another wave of dizziness hit him like a punch straight between the eyes. This was worse than being drunk! How did anyone survive these kinds of hangovers?
And yet here he sat, lying face down in some kind of alleyway somewhere deep within the city walls of Keshai-Phedre. Wherever ‘here’ actually was, it certainly didn’t look very nice: dirty cobbles underfoot instead of smooth stone tiles, rubbish is strewn across every available surface and foul smells everywhere you looked.
A few people walked past him without noticing him at all, their heads bowed against the cold wind blowing off the sea beyond the walled city limits. Most ignored him completely, though a couple gave him odd looks as they passed by.
One man stopped dead beside him, staring wide-eyed at him until his companion grabbed hold of him roughly and dragged him away. He’d been about to ask them who they thought he was, but then he remembered too late that he probably didn’t want to know the answer anyway.
His thoughts wandered aimlessly for several minutes, lost in memories of happier times. Memories of places far more pleasant than this place called Keshai-Phedre. Of friends and family members he hadn’t seen since leaving home over twenty years ago now.
Even if he never saw any of those faces ever again, they would always be part of him – no matter how many miles separated them. They wouldn’t let go easily either, which made thinking difficult sometimes… especially when he found himself remembering things best forgotten.
Things like the day he first met Rhapsody of Fire. Or the night she died.
But eventually, he managed to pull his mind together enough to realize he needed help getting out of whatever hole he currently occupied. So he rolled onto his side, wincing as fresh agony shot through him whenever he moved.
As soon as he got clear of the bench he collapsed flat on the ground, gasping for breath as he waited for his heart rate to slow down once more. When it finally did, he forced himself upright and staggered unsteadily towards the nearest building.
There weren’t many buildings nearby, but there were plenty of doors along the street leading into them, none locked. With a sigh of relief, he pushed open the door of the closest one and stumbled inside, closing it behind him automatically.
Once he was safely hidden amongst its shadows, he leaned heavily against the rough wooden frame and closed both eyes tightly shut, willing the pain to stop hurting so badly. After a moment, he opened his eyes slowly, taking stock of his surroundings.
It seemed as good a spot as any to rest for a while. No one else came close enough to see him, and it was well lit by lamps burning brightly overhead. If he kept low, perhaps whoever owned the room might think he’d simply fallen asleep sitting on the floor.
Hopefully, they wouldn’t bother checking outside to make sure he really was alone. For all he knew, he was already missed. Maybe he should have stayed with the others longer, but he wanted to get away from the tavern.
Not only because he hated crowds, but also because he suspected that the guardsman who had attacked him earlier was likely looking for revenge. He doubted he would find it among the crowd of drunks gathered around the bar tonight. Besides, he was tired of running. He just wished he could figure out where he was going next.
“Where am I?” he asked aloud, speaking softly so as not to wake anybody sleeping near him. “I don’t recognize this place.”
There was no reply, but somehow that didn’t surprise him anymore. People tended not to listen to strangers in unfamiliar cities. Especially strange foreigners asking questions nobody understood. The fact that he couldn’t understand what most people said to him probably helped considerably.
It wasn’t long before he realized that he was hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. His body ached all over; even his hair hurt. But despite everything, he felt strangely calm. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or maybe it was something deeper, but he decided that he liked being alone right now. At least he was safe. That’s all he cared about.
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs caught his attention, followed immediately by the creak of the door opening. He turned quickly to watch the person enter, wondering whether he ought to try talking to her. She appeared to be carrying a tray laden with food and drink, but he hesitated to speak to someone he didn’t know.
Then again, he reasoned, she must live here. Why shouldn’t he talk to her? What harm could come from conversing politely with a stranger?
She set the tray down on the table in front of him, smiling shyly at his obvious confusion. Her name tag identified her as ‘Ara’, and he smiled back warmly, grateful that he had chosen to sit somewhere other than the benches outside.
Ara took off her hat and shook out her black curls, revealing an attractive face framed by dark brown locks. Dark blue eyes sparkled mischievously beneath thick lashes, and a small dimple formed deep within each cheek when she grinned broadly.
He noticed then that she wore no jewelry except for a golden ring on her left hand. A simple band of gold encircled her finger, etched with intricate designs that reminded him vaguely of the patterns carved into stone pillars and walls throughout the city.
He wondered briefly why anyone would want such a thing until he remembered seeing similar rings worn by nobles everywhere he went. Most likely Ara belonged to some noble house herself, although he couldn’t imagine what sort of life she led without access to money.
As he watched her pour him a cup of wine and offer him a plate of bread and cheese, he tried to remember exactly how much time passed after he woke up. Hadn’t he been wandering the streets for hours yet? And where had he gotten these clothes?
They certainly weren’t his own. Nor did he recall ever having seen anything like them before. Yet he recognized them instantly, recognizing the style and cut from countless garments he’d admired while browsing clothing shops during his travels.
They fit perfectly too, which made him wonder if he’d actually bought them. Or stolen them, for that matter. Was that possible? Did thieves steal their victims’ belongings instead of stealing themselves, as he assumed normal criminals did?
Could a thief become wealthy enough to afford fine suits and dresses simply by robbing rich men? How many different kinds were there anyway, besides common street thugs and professional killers? Were there any other types he hadn’t heard about yet?
His thoughts drifted aimlessly through various scenarios as he ate, occasionally pausing to take another sip of wine or nibble on a piece of hard-crusted bread. Eventually, he finished eating and leaned back against the wall behind him, staring blankly ahead.
After several minutes, however, he became aware of a voice calling out to him, interrupting his train of thought.
“Sir! Sir!”
Startled, he looked toward the source of the call, finding himself gazing directly into the wide green eyes belonging to a young woman dressed in white robes. Although he couldn’t tell precisely how old she was, he guessed that she was still quite young.
In fact, judging by the way she carried herself, he imagined that she may have been born yesterday.
Her skin was pale as milk, almost translucent, and her features delicate. Even though he knew better, he found it difficult to look straight at her. Instead, he kept sneaking glances downward whenever she glanced away, trying desperately to avoid meeting her gaze.
When he finally succeeded, he discovered that she was looking directly at him, studying him curiously. For reasons unknown, he suddenly began feeling very self-conscious under her scrutiny.
Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, he cleared his throat nervously. “Um… hello,” he managed awkwardly.
For a moment, Ara stared silently at him, apparently waiting for more words to follow. Finally, she seemed satisfied that he spoke English and continued addressing him in a soft voice.
“Are you all right?”
At first, he wasn’t sure whether she meant physically or mentally, so he replied honestly. “I’m not really sure.”
To his surprise, Ara nodded slowly, taking this answer completely seriously. His cheeks reddened slightly, and he felt compelled to explain further. “Well, I mean, yes, my body feels alright. But…” He paused, searching for the proper word. “…my mind is kind of fuzzy. Like, everything seems strange somehow. It’s hard to describe.”
The girl frowned deeply but didn’t respond immediately. She appeared thoughtful, perhaps considering his response carefully. Then, abruptly, she turned around and walked briskly across the room.
As he watched her go, he realized that she must be one of those priestesses who cared for people here in the temple. Maybe she even lived there too. That explained why she looked familiar. He’d met plenty of her type over the years, usually women whose families could never afford to pay for expensive medical care.
The priests took pity upon them and provided free treatment.
Ara stopped just outside the door leading deeper inside the building, turning to face him again. Her expression changed dramatically now, transforming from concern to resolve. With obvious determination, she stepped forward and placed both hands firmly on either side of his head.
Without warning, she grabbed hold of his hair and yanked it sharply upward, causing him to cry out involuntarily. At once, his vision blurred and darkened, and he fell unconscious.
***
When he awoke later, he found himself lying flat on his back atop an unfamiliar bed. A warm blanket covered his entire body, keeping him comfortably cozy despite the cool air flowing gently past his nose. Despite being awake, however, he remained semi-conscious.
Perhaps because of the medication, or maybe due to some lingering aftereffects of whatever they gave him earlier. Whatever the reason, he struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to figure out what was going on.
After a few seconds, however, he decided to give up on struggling altogether. Why bother when he already understood most of the situation without needing to think about it? Besides, he had no idea where he was, or how much time passed since he collapsed.
If he tried to stay alert, he would probably only make things worse. Sooner or later, he might wake up somewhere else, with someone new standing beside his bed. And then he wouldn’t know anything anymore. Better to let sleep take its course while he still remembered something.
He closed his eyes and relaxed, sinking down beneath the covers. Soon afterward, he slipped peacefully off into a deep slumber.
The End