RIFT ASUNDER is the saga of Eaj Cire, A High Elf Guardian Assassin traveling through the world of Telara. His tale is one of Love, Hate, Betrayal, War, and Madness. Join him now as he struggles to reclaim his lost past, fights to understand the chaos of today, and desperately tries to unravel the mystery that is his destiny.
…and scream, and scream. The pain is a tangible thing, awesome and all consuming. Images flash across the landscape of my mind, a beautiful elven woman, smiling, holding a baby girl close. She looks into my eyes, such love there. I reach to touch the baby and the image changes, fades….a Mathosian man sitting across from me screaming, such hatred, malice directed at me…..A room, filled with machines the likes of which I have never seen, can’t begin to understand….a faceless man laughing….a beautiful woman smiling at me, stunning really, except for the look in her eyes; which is total emptiness, darkness.
The images fade, darkness settles around me. A darkness not only an absence of light, but an absence of everything. I hear voices, words, I don’t recognize…..Eaj….Erzabeta….Vladislas….Isabella…The Faceless Man….Aedraxis Mathos…Regulos…Alsbeth….Zareph…Rifts…
The words keep coming, the voices a symphony of men, woman, children. Than the voices begin to fade, leaving only two. One male, one female.
“He is remembering to much, to quickly.” The female voice whispers.
“Each new soul, each death will show him more, show him the truth; our truth. Worry not, he shall remember what we want, when we want him to.” The male replies.
“I do worry, as should you; he is vital to our plans.” The female growls.
“Our plans are set, not even he can change them now.”
“I hope so, for both our sakes; for I don’t want to have to explain to our master how we failed him.”
“We shall not fail.”
I awaken on the floor, curled into a ball. The images fading, the words there but meaning nothing. The pain in my skull is abating. I still know nothing about who I am, but I do know one thing, what I am, what I was, what I shall be again. I am an Assassin. A High Elf Guardian. How I know this I know not, I simply do. The skills I have I have not learned over a lifetime of study or practice, they have been thrust upon me in a moment of agony by the Warden that touched me, that stands before me now. I am skilled, a master of dagger, stealth, sword, and movement. How can I know this? Why do I not know who I am?
Standing slowly, I look up at the Warden before me. The look in his eyes pure sorrow, tears stream down his face.
“I can show you no more ascended, I am sorry for that. Perhaps the others can help you remember.”
Trembling slightly, I turn away, heading back up the stairs. I must speak to the man I saw on the balcony, he who seemed to know so much. As I approach him I see a book laying on a table. I pick it up, shove it into my backpack; I’ll read it later, when I have time. Hearing me approach the man turns to me, smiling sadly. He looks me over, his gaze pausing slightly on the daggers on my hips.
“I see you have seen the Warden, found your calling my friend.”
“These blades feel right to me, as if I have always carried them.”
“You have.”
Placing a hand upon my shoulder he says to me, “I can only tell you so much. To tell it all would break you, drive you to madness. You must learn it all in your own time. There is a book behind you on that table, read it, it shall help you understand our plight. Than my friend, move forward, ever forward, learning, remembering. My brother must be stopped here. His tyranny must end.”
“Go now, seek out those who know, do what you can to help us in this time of desperation.”
“Who are you?” I plead.
“I am Zareph Mathos, brother of Aedraxis, he who would bring death to us all.”
I move away, lost, confused. I head back downstairs, pause for a moment before the Warden. I smile and thank him, he smiles in turn, wishing me luck. Beyond him is a field of energy, magic pulsing. Taking a deep breath I move through it, into….madness.
The scene before me is chaos, insanity. A graveyard all around me, in the distance a town burns. Further off I can see the sky torn open, storm clouds rage, balls of energy fly unending, smashing down, destroying, devouring. The sounds are pure Hell, screams, groans, explosions. The smell is nothing like I have ever known, putrid, rotting, decay. Living dead rush around me, tearing at tombstones, digging. As one grows near I draw my daggers, ready to defend, to kill. The Corpse pauses, it’s head snaps in my direction, sniffing the air. It’s eyes hold no life, only hunger. After a moment it moves on, rushes to a grave and begins to dig, smash.
I move slowly, warily down the trail, approach a woman, a man, standing by a fence. As I draw near she turns to me, her eyes burning, sightless.
“You must seek out Shyla ascended. She shall show you the next step in your journey. But first, please, help me set my friends free. Those things you see, they are not what they appear, they are a lie, a curse.”
She points, unseeing to the undead running everywhere. “Set the souls of the damned free.”
Rage filling my heart I rush to the nearest walking corpse, drive my daggers dead into it’s spine. The body collapses, and before my eyes the spirit of a woman arises from the body.
“Thank You.” She whispers, than fades away before me.
Tears fill my eyes. Hate for these abominations fills me and I begin my dance of death. I move through them like water, cutting, slashing, screaming. They fall before me like grass, each kill bringing forth another spirit. After a time I pause, panting, exhausted. My eyes are filled with tears, my heart breaks at the sight I see before me; a mass grave. The bodies of so many men, woman, children, pilled up like wood. I am frozen in horror, not only because of the sight before me, but more so because I realize, I know; not to long ago I myself laid here, broken, dead.
Staggering, terrified, I move back to the blind woman. “I’m sorry.” She whispers. “You had to see for yourself, know the truth of your death.”
This is madness surely. I live. I live! I turn from her and run down a flight of stairs into a town I have never seen, a town being torn apart by undead knights. People run everywhere screaming as the undead chase, cut, kill. I see a man fleeing, yelling in terror. I rush forward, cut off than cut down the Knight chasing him. I kill another that moves toward him. These things seem to care not about me at all, there focus single and brutal; the total destruction of the townspeople. The man runs off as I battle another, he makes it a fews yards before he is cut down brutally.
I scream, leap, cut, rip. I kill more than I can count, and yet they still come, and endless horde of death. I see bodies everywhere, evil imbued swords driven through them. I pull out all that I see, afraid these swords may cause these poor souls to return, to return as those that killed them.
Exhausted, bleeding, my rage spent, I move further into the town. Rounding a corner I come upon a beautiful fountain in the middle of a square. A dwarf works tirelessly, a tall beautiful woman paces, giving orders, directing the chaos around her the best she can. As I move close she looks upon me and smiles.
“Eaj, I knew you wound be back.”
“Do I know you fair lady?”
“I am Shyla, and we have known each other well for many years. Come, let me help you try to remember.”
I kneel before her, brace myself for what I know is coming. She places a hand upon my shoulder and the pain returns, the darkness, the past. The last thing I hear is my own screaming and her soft voice whispering…
…”I’m sorry.”
I wrote this a few years ago. Nice to see it’s still up even if nobody ever actually read it. I had hoped to make it into a series but I lost my wife and daughter and went a bit insane for a time.
I hope someone enjoyed it.