Angelus Corpus

[Greyfox]

I'm really quite proud of this piece of literature. I took the entire weekend to write it. If its fanbase here is big enough, I might think about getting the second "chapter" posted. It's already about sixty pages long, and only the first chapter of the novel I intend to make of it.


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angelus corpus

one

the Locke

I

“But sir,” questioned the young lass as she faced the cloaked figure, “what name shall I give?”



“Hm?”

“What name should I give the people when I tell them of you?”

The cloaked figure halted, turning to face her—“Young lass,” he replied, with a robust voice, “give them any name you please, for I have none.”


The young girl nodded as her savior turned back to the darkness, never to be seen by her again.

Albeit the cloak was not lying when he said that he did not have a moniker, most people referred to him as “the Nameless”. The mysterious figure wandered aimlessly, from village to village, as a freelance mercenary—helping those in need for a small token, just enough for him to get by. Day by day, he wandered just trying to seek answers. A mysterious aura surrounded his stature, unexplainable. While he looked very young, in his mid-twenties, he never knew his true age. Perhaps he wandered this dense globe for hundreds of years? No one knows—certainly not the Nameless.

The Nameless walked around cloaked with a heavy leather coat that had extended to the ground below, dragging behind him with each fresh step. The trench hid his interior—black jeans and a matching long sleeved shirt. Well, only one sleeve was long, the right sleeve appeared to be torn off. In its place was a black piece of cloth wrapped around his shoulder. Strapped to his belt was a cougar pistol—silver in color. Also at each side, the Nameless sported two short black hunting knives, sharp enough to cut through solid stone, or so said the legends. At his backside laid a heavy broad sword that only he could wield. Despite the Nameless’ demure nature, he had quirky names for each of his weapons. For the pistol, it was named “Mary”; the hunting knives were “Lu” and “Bei” respectively; the broad sword at his back was named “Cliff”. He did not understand the premise for their names, but he just stuck with them.

For the Nameless, everything was a distant memory suppressed too far back in his mind for anyone, himself included, to access. A dark past, perhaps—he could not remember. The only thing that stood by him all these years was the four names. ‘But why?’ he wondered.

The Nameless had left the small village of Ela’net. He had assisted the people of the small farm village by running off a perfidious band of thieves. The Nameless only accepted a small amount of token from the people before he headed off to the next village in search of more people who needed his aid. The night was beginning, and rain had just fallen. He could tell because the pavement that met his feet was damp and cold.

A few hours into his trek, the rain that once claimed the lands previously had claimed the lands once more. The day that was has now been shifted into a cool, cool night. The crescent moon sat high in the midnight skies dormant, waiting for the sun to relieve it again. Almost as if unfazed by the showers, the Nameless continued on without skipping a beat. He had decided not to rest until he found a suitable shelter, and the nearby cave about fifty feet ahead would be fitting.

Upon reaching the dark cavernous maw, the Nameless pulled off his long black trench, revealing his soaked attire, and tossed it aside. Just before plopping down on the rocky floor below, the Nameless unhinged his companions—Mary, Lu, Bei, and Cliff, and set them down carefully.

The Nameless, he had a memorable face. His pale white skin, complimented by the jet black sun shades wrapped over his eyes. A colorless scar patched over his left one; perhaps the reason for him to wear the shades. His hair was a blondish hue, untamed and greasy, covered by his sou'wester hat. The Nameless tipped the said hat over his eyes, and slowly fell to slumber.

____________________


Locke looked to his left, then to his right. Where was he? He did not know. The heat from the flames was unbearable, so he let his dark blue jacket hit the floor, vaporizing instantly. Locke was a tall young man, about twenty-two years of age. His long blonde hair extended to his shoulders, and his attire consisted only of a pair of blue jean slacks and a white tee—not too fitting for his locale.

“Where am I,” young Locke pondered, as if someone were going to give him an answer.

As expected, young Locke did not receive a reply to his inexplicable riddle. Taking a deep sigh, Locke began to follow the path subsequent to the river of fire, looking for any sign of solution. Locke continued the trail until he came across a large fiery chamber. As he stumbled into the room, he saw that, other than his entrance, the only way out of this chamber was presently blocked by a wall of flames.

Locke looked for any other sign of exit, but found none. Moments passed until finally he was greeted by a trio of goblin-like creatures. They were winged, demonic beasts. The trio snarled, as if they were hungry for Locke’s flesh. Locke panicked, and then considered his defense—the long sword that laid dormant at his side. Quickly, Locke drew the blade.

Admittedly, the sword was neither sharp nor intimidating. Locke had just recently purchased it and had intended to sharpen it as soon as he could—unfortunately, not soon enough. The demonic goblins began to circle Locke, thirsty for him. Closing his eyes, Locke openly swung his long blade carelessly, managing even to cut through one of the goblin’s wings. The goblin screeched in pain as it hit the rock-strewn floor below. Seeing their leader felled, the other two demons fled in fear.

Locke took in a few deep breathes, questioning once more, “Where am I?”

Eerily this time, Locke had gotten an answer. “soul-less child,” hissed a lustrous voice, “i welcome you… i welcome you… i welcome you to mine land… i welcome you to the neverend…”

____________________


The Nameless woke up in a chilling cold sweat. Where was he just then? Was he dreaming? Perhaps he was. He sat still in the same spot he was hours ago. The rain-filled nightfall that had once claimed the skies has been replaced with the warm breeze of the sunlight. The Nameless stood up with outstretched arms and grabbed his companions, strapping them to his belt and harnesses. Just before heading back outside, he grabbed his long black trench—it was still a bit sodden from the rain last night. Needless, he still draped it over his torso without a second thought.

The Nameless peered outside of the maw as the bright yellow sun gazed down at him. It was not much of a problem, the sunlight, as he was still wearing his sun shades. People often requested for the Nameless to show them what was hidden from them—his eyes. Alas, the mercenary never did confirm them. He was too afraid of what he himself would find. The colorless scar should be enough, he would always tell them.

The bright sun parched his throat, however the Nameless continued without stopping. The nearest town, Mela’beh, he would encounter within the hour, and there he would be able to aid his clients. Mela’beh was a town known best for its high regard for the arts. Founded by the late explorer LaGassè in the 240’s, Mela’beh was always a small but beautiful paradise of a town.


There were two guards watching over the quiet town of Mela’beh. The town was much protected, surrounded by a large brick wall, with the only way in and out being the gate watched over by the sentinels.

The first of them peered over to his partner, “You see ‘at?” He was pointing to a lone figure about twenty yards yonder.

“Yeah. What of it?” The other questioned.

“I think tha’s the mercenary I’s heard so much about.”

“Mercenary?”

“Yeah,” he explained, “they say he walks aroun’ town to town helpin’ others for like… a buck o’ two at a time.”

“A buck or two?”

“Yeah—they say he ain’t got no name; call him the Nameless.”

“The Nameless?” the other was amazed, “Yeah, I’ve heard all about him. He was the one who saved those kids in Liedwein. That guy’s legendary.”

The Nameless trudged over, intercepted by the two guards. They held their broad swords over the entrance in a protective manner, as if they were big brothers to their sibling. As the sweat beaded down the Nameless’ pale-skinned face, he looked to them questionably.

“Hey, sorry man,” said the first, “can’t let ‘ya in wit’out prop’a clearance.”

“Yeah,” the second guard perched up, “we can’t let you in our great city without some information.”

Annoyed but never rude, the Nameless spoke up, “What information can I offer you?” His voice was calm and monotone, as if he bared no emotion.

“Folks say you’s the Nameless,” the first guard asked, “s’that true?”

“Eheh,” the Nameless chuckled an uncanny, detached chuckle, “some people call me that, yes.”

“You saved those kids right? In Liedwein?” The second guard was quite excited, not like his partner whatsoever.

“Indeed,” the Nameless’ cold reply.

The second guard was quite capricious, “Do you need a place to stay, Mr. the Nameless?”

“Saarkins!” the first guard yelled to his inept partner, “I’s trying to interrogate the outsider and already you’s givin’ him a place t’ live.”

“Erm… sorry Myloh…” the second guard, apparently named Saarkins, shied away.

“Now, let’s get this over with,” the first guard, Myloh, continued, “what kinda bu’ness you got in Mela’beh?”

“My business is always the same, sir,” the Nameless replied, “I intend to provide service for the people of Mela’beh for a small token in return as to continue my travels.”

“Yes, of course…” the guard spoke. He took a glance at the pistol strapped to the dark figure’s belt, “I don’t s’pose you’s be usin’ that…”

“Only if it’s necessary,” the Nameless replied.

Said Myloh to Saarkins, “Saarkins—take him inside. Don’t let him do anything foolish, you got that?”

“Got it, sir!” Saarkins perked up.

Myloh pulled his long sword aside, sheathing it in the brown leather casing. Saarkins did the same, leading the Nameless beyond the gate, “Right this way, sir.”

The Nameless followed. As he gazed at the small town’s interior, he could see why it was fenced from the outside world. The large city-like village was ripe—businesses were rampant, crops were numerous, children were in the streets frolicking; not one depressing site. In the center of the village, the Nameless spotted a large monument. It was a stone sculpture of James LaGassè, died 246F. Apparently Mela’beh was the last great thing he had discovered. For only being fifty years old, the city of Mela’beh certainly was coming together quite nicely.

Still volatile, Saarkins once again made an offer to the Nameless, “Do you need a place to stay for tonight?” He gave no room for interruption, “I’ve told my wife and kid about you over the years; they’d love to meet you!”

“I… guess I could…”

“Excellent!”

“What would I owe you?” The Nameless pondered.

“Oh… nothing really,” replied Saarkins, “it’d be my honor to take you in, free of charge. However my family would love to hear that story of how you saved those two kids in Liedwein.”

“Very well then,” the Nameless agreed, “if that is your request, I will relay to you and your family the story…”

Rick Saarkins led the Nameless to his abode at the end of the village. It was just a small brick home, with only a few rooms. Saarkins turned the brass doorknob clockwise, and pushed the poorly painted door inwards, leading himself and the Nameless inside.

“Daddy’s home!” said an excited little girl, no more than seven years of age in her. The young lass ran to her father and clung tightly to his left leg.

“Heh,” Saarkins chuckled, “hey there, Lacey. I want you to meet… a friend of Daddy’s…”

The cute young girl waved her hands wildly at the dark stranger that stood before her, “Hi, friend of Daddy’s!”

“Hello, Miss Lacey.” The Nameless’ voice was, as usual, cold and emotionless. This seemed not to bother the young Lacey, however.

“Where’s Mommy, Lacey?” asked Saarkins to his daughter.

“She’s in the kitchen… makin’ dinner.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said to his daughter as he passed her by. Rick Saarkins walked into a room that escaped the Nameless’ sight, only to return moments later with a woman in her early-thirties. “Levi,” he said to the woman, evidently his wife, “this is that mercenary who saved those two kids, the Nameless.”

“Oh really?” said Levi, “That’s great.” She paused, “Hello good sir, my name is Levi Saarkins.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss…”

“He’s going to tell us that story, Levi!” Saarkins explained.

“Wow—I’ve always loved hearing that story,” said Levi with a hint of glee in her tone, “it’ll be even better coming from you, good sir.”


A few hours had passed. The family, the Nameless as well, had just eaten the meal that Levi had prepared; young Lacey had been sent to bed. The lone man was just about to tell his tale.

Levi and Rick Saarkins were sitting across from the Nameless anxiously on the floor of the main room. Rick had placed his long guard’s coat on the rack, revealing his gray-colored undershirt. The Nameless too was without his coat, using it as a soft spot against the hardwood floor. He then began to recollect his story…

____________________


It was the first thing that I remember in a streamline of confusing memoirs. I pulled myself away from a bitter unconsciousness. A fresh scar patched over my left eye, so I pulled some jet black sun shades from my pocket. Not knowing where I got them, I simply wrapped them over my eyes for protection. I could not see out of the left eye for some reason. The blazing sun plagued across my pale white skin as if it had a vendetta against me.

Desperate to know were I was, I ran. I ran to the closest place I could before fatigue kicked in. According to the townspeople, I was in the village of Liedwein. Liedwein was nothing like this place—nothing at all. Whereas Mela’beh is a large commerce city, Liedwein was just a simple farmers’ town.

“Liedwein supplies food for Mela’beh,” Saarkins interrupted.

Yes indeed. Liedwein does supply crops to Mela’beh, as well as other larger cities. Now when I arrived at Liedwein, I did not have with me my companions—Mary, Lu, Bei, and Cliff. No, all I had was a flimsy long sword that was lying next to me when I woke up. The townspeople saw it, and wondered whether or not I was a mercenary. Not knowing what to say, I concurred.

Apparently, Liedwein was notorious for its frequent crime problem. Nothing too serious, just a band of thieves known as “the Grudge”; they often struck by nightfall raiding the crops and mugging random travelers. Nothing too serious, I thought, however it was a big deal to them.

I waited until nightfall for the Grudge to strike again. According to the people, the thieves were not used to resistance, so hopefully my being there would scare them off. I waited in the fields for a good few hours until the Grudge crept in. The three-person band started grabbing nearby crops—pumpkins mostly. I snuck in on them with my blade outstretched.

Each member of the Grudge bore a black tunic with a strange red symbol patched on the chest. It was a circle, with an upside-down star in the center. It was an unusual site to see, so I made sure I kept track of it.

The leader of the Grudge gazed at me while saying, “Looks like Liedwein finally gots a security guard.” The thief quickly drew his hunting knife, in a vague attempt to be intimidating. I was not intimidated.

“The people of Liedwein do not want you coming around here anymore.” I said to him, not backing down.

“Is that what they want?” the shifty-eyed thief asked me, “Tell ‘em I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

The boorish thief spat at the grass below. Once more, I was not intimidated. I held my blade up high, “One of us is leaving here tonight, thief,” I boldly said, “and my money is on you.”

The shifty-eyed thief laughed, clutching onto the handle of his knife, “You wanna fight me?”

“I’d prefer otherwise,” I replied, “but I guess if you are not going to leave, then I have no other choice.”

“Heh,” the thief snickered, “Galvin Gate of the Grudge never backs outta fights.”

Gate clutched his knife tightly in his right arm, thrusting forward towards me. As the blade neared my flesh, I quickly turned away, tripping him up. Seeing an opening, I bashed him in the back of the head with the hilt of my blade. I did not want bloodshed on this night. The force of my hit easily knocked Gate insensible.

I turned to face the other two members of the Grudge—upon seeing me knock out their leader with ease, they immediately pulled him up, saying “Galvin’s been knocked out! Let’s get outta here!” I smirked as I watched the band of thieves run off into the night.


The next day, the village elder approached me, “You’ve done a good thing, kind sir.” He said to me. “But what is your name?”

“My name?” I questioned. Having never been asked that question before, I was quite confused. “I… I do not know.”

“But what shall we call you?”

“Call me whatever you wish,” I explained to him.

“Very well, good sir,” said the village elder to me, “here is your penance for last night’s work.” He handed to me three old silver coins. It appeared that the town used these coins as currency. “I know it isn’t much,” he said, “but it’s all we have to give, kind sir.”

“That is alright,” I replied, “I only need as much to survive.”

“The blacksmith has also agreed to strengthen your blade,” he offered, “f-free of charge, of course.”

“That would be good. Thank-you.”


I waited in the small hotel room that the villagers had prepared for me the previous night whilst the blacksmith bettered my blunt blade. Letting my mind wander, I tried my very best to piece together my past. To no avail, my efforts were futile. I sat on the bed peacefully until I heard a loud, girlish scream from outside my door.

Quickly, I doubled over and stumbled to the door. I opened it to see what the matter was—a young mother, late twenties, was outside yelling, “The children,” she yelled, “someone has taken the children!”

‘Children,’ I thought to myself, walking over to the frightened women.

The young women introduced herself as Mena—she was the elder’s wife. “My children,” she said, “someone has taken them.”

“Do you know who took them?” I tried to relieve as much information as I could.

“N-no… I do not…” she stuttered, “a-all I remember… was seeing a man run out through the children’s bedroom window. I couldn’t see his face because his back was turned, but he was wearing a black tunic with a weird red symbol on the back. It was a circle with an upside-down star in the center.” Her face began to tear up; the thought of losing her children was breaking her apart. “Lisa is only seven… and… and little Lance isn’t even five yet…” She spat out essentials nonchalantly as the tears fell to the ground.

“Do not fret, Miss Mena,” I coaxed her, “I will return with your two children. I promise you that.”

At that moment, I turned away from the elder’s wife, and walked to the smithy to recollect my blade, now sharper than ever. The word “Cliff” was etched into it. I did not know what it had meant, and still don’t. From the smithy, I walked outside of the town of Liedwein. Thinking back to the previous night, the fight with the Grudge, I remembered that on their tunics was the same symbol that Mena had described to me. With this information, I knew I had to go after them.

Gate and his lackeys retreated to the west, so their quarters must have been west outside of the town as well. I wandered for miles until I eventually encountered a large stone building, “That must be their hideout,” I said to myself, pressing forward.


There were two sentries outside the opening. Over their tunics was a coat made of thick leather, also bearing the Grudge symbol. They each had a small blade at their sides, nothing too dangerous.

“What do you want,” the first sentry demanded.

“I am here for the children,” I explained.

“Sorry,” the other spoke, “we can’t allow you that purpose.”

“Then I am afraid I’ll have to do this the hard way.”

I pulled the sharp broad sword, Cliff, from its scabbard, as the two guards did the same with their weapons. The first guard lunged at me furiously with his sword outstretched. Just before the blade connected, I slashed upwards, cutting through the guard’s sword with ease. The top piece of the blade fell to the ground. The guard, confused, received a blow to the face from my gloved fist. I said earlier that I did not want unnecessary bloodshed.

As the first guard fell to the ground, spent, the second guard lunged at me in a different manner. Foolishly, he too held his blade outstretched. I narrowly sidestepped the weapon. As the second guard lunged right passed me, I did to him the same thing I did to the thief Galvin Gate. By bashing him in the back of the head with the hilt of Cliff, he too fell to the ground next to his partner.

“Fools.” I whispered as I stepped over the sentries, into the massive stone building.

The Grudge headquarters wasn’t exactly what I thought it’d be. There were only a few underlings about, and each one came at me with all their strength. One by one, I took them down with Cliff. The sweat poured down my face as I wandered to the cell which the two children were held, one boy, one girl. The girl was no older than Lacey, and the boy… even younger.

The girl was wearing a bright yellow sundress and bore short brown hair, shoulder-length. On her sundress was an innocent pink bow. Meanwhile, the younger boy was wearing just a pair of superhero pajamas. He must have just woken up when the Grudge kidnapped him.

The two children clung onto the large metal bars that separated me from them, “Who are you?” The young girl questioned. The boy remained silent.

“I am a friend of your mother’s,” I told her, “I am going to get you out of here.”

“You’re just lucky that the rest of my men are on raids,” spoke a cold dark voice.

I turned to face the villainous man behind me. He was a tall figure, covered by a long black robe with the same red star patched across his chest.

“You must be that unnamed mercenary everyone’s been talkin’ about,” he said to me, “yeah—Gate’s told me all about you.”

“Your men were foolish,” I said to him, “free the children. I do not want to hurt anyone.”

“What a pity,” he replied with a chilling smirk, “all I want to do is hurt people.” The man withdrew his weapon—a long katana with a black tip. I pulled out Cliff, ready for another fight.

Without mercy, my adversary lunged at me in the same fashion as all my men. Figuring him to be smarter than his subordinates, I leapt hard to the right of the stone chambers. Crouched down, I regained my composure. Standing tall with Cliff at my side, I parried his katana as he slashed at me. There we stood, blades locked together.

Mine adversary grunted, trying to get the upper hand, “You’re good,” he admitted, “but my skills have beaten tougher men.”

“Oh ho,” I murmured, throwing him off, “I am not what you think.” Relieved from my stress, I took a few breaths. “I told you… I do not want to hurt anyone.”

“That’s too bad,” he conflicted, “I’m not backing down.”

The leader of the Grudge lunged forward once more. Thinking quickly, I leapt out of the way. Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough. His katana connected with my right shoulder, ripping the flesh. Blood stained my skin as it trickled down to the ground. Without remorse, I quickly slammed Cliff into my opponent’s chest. The tip of the blade was soaked in blood as it tore through. He yelped in pain, cursing me.

Coughing up blood as he spoke, “T-the Grudge… we… we will find y-you…” The leader stammered, “… we will find you… and w-we will k-kill you…”

I stepped back from him as he fell to the floor. He let out one final cough before his eyes closed forever. “I told you,” I said to him, “I did not want to hurt anyone.”


Having freed the two children of Miss Mena, I was invited to stay in the village of Liedwein forever. I opposed, as I wanted to travel to piece together my mystery. The last thing I remember from Liedwein… was the young child Lisa.

She said to me, “Promise you’ll come back, kind sir.”

And I promised that I would one day return to her and everyone else. Then I left. I haven’t been back to there yet, but I intend to return as soon as I leave here.

____________________


“That was a great story, sir,” said Saarkins to the Nameless.

“Thank-you,” replied the mercenary.

“I was really engrossed by it,” Levi spoke, “especially with so much detail. How’d you remember all that information, sir?”

“It was not that long ago, really,” the Nameless informed.

Shaking off the weird looks that both Saarkins were giving him, the Nameless decided that now was the time to retire for the evening. He would tomorrow head out to revisit the small town of Liedwein.

As the two Saarkins headed for their bedroom, the Nameless stared at the black cloth wrapped around his shoulder. He slowly began to unravel the fabric, gazing at the wound that resided there, ‘Still hasn’t healed…’

With his sou’wester hat tipped to shield his naked eyes, the Nameless fell to sleep. Just like the last, he was introduced to a world unlike his present. He entered the dream.

____________________


Locke had just managed to escape the second chamber of the Neverend. He shuddered at the thought of what he had just previously done. He was ordered to actually maim another goblin, and feast on its toes. Gruesome, it was. It had taken Locke four times just to even down one toe, let alone ten.


No longer plagued with the second chamber, Locke glanced about. He was now in the third chamber. The exit once more blocked by a wall of fire.


“What am I supposed to do here?” Locke questioned.

No sooner than he asked did a bridge of molten magma shine right next to him, “you must cross the river,” said the same chilling voice, “you must cross the river.”


Glancing at the river of fire, Locke thought that maybe chamber two wasn’t so bad. The fires flared upwards as Locke began to shy away, “What if I refuse,” he questioned.


“if eternity is what you want,” spoke the voice, “then cross the river you shall.”


“But what if I don’t want eternity anymore?”


“then you shall stay here forever…”


Cursing the thought of being abandoned in this massive hellfire, Locke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Without thinking about it, he placed one step on the molten rock, and then another. Step by step, he quickly made it from one side of the lava bridge to the rocky pavement on the other end.


Locke opened his eyes and found that he had made it across the link alive, and said a quiet thank-you to no one in particular. It was strange though—when he took the steps upon the magma bridge, he felt no pain. It was almost as if the fires weren’t even hot at all. Locke glanced over to the exit and witnessed as the flames blocking it extinguished.


“go now,” hissed the voice, “go now to the fourth chamber of the neverend…”


____________________


Once more did the Nameless wake up in a cold sweat. He was in a sitting position, leaning against the Saarkins’ sofa. He must’ve dozed off in that spot. The Nameless pulled himself up and stretched out his limbs.

“Mornin’,” greeted Saarkins, whom was presently sipping hot coffee from a dark green mug.

“Good morning,” the Nameless replied. The Nameless grabbed his coat from on the ground, and wrapped it around his exterior. “Now if you will excuse me…”

Saarkins interrupted him, “Leaving so soon?”

“Yes. I wish to head over to Liedwein—if I start now, I can make it there before nightfall.”

“Aren’t you gonna work a job before you go?” Saarkins asked, “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

“I do believe I just did: I told you my story… that is job enough for me.”

“And payment—“

“Your hospitality is payment enough,” the Nameless interrupted, “now I must be off.” With those last words, the Nameless headed out the front door of the small brick house, and eventually left the small industrial city of Mela’beh.

© Copyright 2005 The End of Ages (FictionPress ID:347625). All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of The End of Ages.

[Greyfox]

II

The Nameless, from his sitting position, peered to the north, scanning for any sign of people. He had thought he’d heard some children laughing, but it must’ve just been his imagination.

It was around noon and the Nameless was only a few hours away from his destination, so he decided to sit down for a bit to dry his fatigue.

Fully recuperated, the Nameless decided to head back on the trail. He walked for hours on end, ignoring the silent laughter that had been swimming around in his mind.

After only a few more hours of trekking, the Nameless had finally managed to spot the small town of Liedwein—the place where he was best known. As he walked through the little village, he realized that it wasn’t the same as his previous encounter. The streets were barren, desolate. No longer did the children play happily. Most of the homes were burnt to the ground; as for the rest, they were practically devastated.

A young girl approached the Nameless, about seventeen years of age. “You’ve come back…” she said to him.

The young lass had a familiar aura surrounding her. Perhaps they had previously met? No, the Nameless had never seen her in all his life, or so he thought.

“Yes, I’ve returned.”

The young lass, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, had short brown hair and eyes of a green hue. She wore a light blue tank-top and blue jeans. She was equipped with a small knife, probably to ward off thieves and the like. On her shirt was patched a familiar pink bow. Very familiar, in fact.

She waited a few moments before saying anything else, “You act as if you don’t remember me…”

“Am I… supposed to…” the Nameless queried.

“You should—it’s me, Lisa.”

“Lisa?” the Nameless took a step back, “How can that be? You’re only seven—“

“Seventeen now, good sir.” Lisa interrupted.

“Seven...teen?”

“You’ve been gone for ten years, sir,” she informed him, “you wanted to travel the world seeking answers. You said you’d come back… it just took you longer than any of us thought…”

Hearing this information forced the Nameless to take a step back. Could he have really been gone for ten years? How could he have? It felt like it was just yesterday when he was last here.

“What of your parents—the elders?” the Nameless dared to ask.

“Mother… Father…” Lisa paused, “they... they were slain… two years ago… by the Grudge…”

“The Grudge…”

“They took over our town about that time.”

Hearing this was hard for the Nameless to take in. Because he killed their leader those ten years ago, the remaining members must have come back for him. And because the Nameless was nowhere to be found, they took their anger out on the poor town of Liedwein. ‘I should be the one dead,’ the Nameless thought to himself, ‘it is my fault…’

Lisa had directed the Nameless to the home that she and her younger brother shared. The small hovel of a place was bleak, void of any activity. It seemed as if the two were living poorly ever since the death of their parents. Fourteen-year old Lance walked through the hallway and met with the two.

“You’re… you’re the Nameless,” said Lance, “you saved us from the Grudge ten years ago…”

“Yes.”

“But you haven’t aged a day… how is that possible?”

“I… really do not know, kid…” the Nameless explained. “Nothing makes sense to me anymore. I can not even remember everything from before I came here ten years ago.”

“You can’t remember anything at all?” Lisa interjected.

“Right… it is all just a haze for me…”

The night that soon came was cool and refreshing. Lisa and Lance had offered their home as a place for the Nameless to rest for the night. Considering that he hadn’t had any money on him, he took up their offer. The lights were off, and the Nameless sat comfortably on the worn-out sofa. He just sat there, thinking.

As the night drifted on and the Nameless’ mind began to wander, the young lass Lisa snuck into the living area. Trying to remain quiet as not to disturb her young brother’s rest, she wandered closer to the Nameless, whom was still sitting silently on the old sofa.

Her heart beat; faster and faster it did, as she inched closer to the mysterious cloak. “They say that no one can fall in love at such a young age…”

The Nameless said not a word.

“And yet…” she continued, “ever since you left that day, all I could think about was you. Holding onto that promise that one day you’d return for me. Even knowing not your name, I fell for you, kind sir. I fell hard for you.”

The Nameless could not say a word. The young lass smiled; heart beating faster and faster as she kneeled down beside him, pressing her lips against his.

The Nameless, startled, quickly broke the sweet kiss. “I am sorry ki—“

“Kid? I’m not much younger than you are, sir,” she said to him, “besides; I am mature enough to bare children.”

“I… can not,” the Nameless said to her coldly, “I cannot feel… anything… for you or otherwise…”

Trying desperately to hold back the tears, Lisa backed away, “I’m… I’m sorry… sir…” she said, hiding away from the cloak.

The Nameless sighed, tipping his hat and letting himself drift away to slumber land, trying desperately to forget this hour.

____________________




“This must be the place,” said Locke as he stopped near the deep stairwell.

He took one last glance at the mid-day sky before he took the plunge. His skin became littered with thousands of goose bumps. Was he ready? Of course not, but that didn’t stop him. Clutching tightly to his navy blue jacket, Locke readied himself for the inevitable.

“No longer am I to let death frighten me,” he said to no one but himself, “I will decline these steps into the Neverend, and I will strike a deal with Ba’al. I will no longer let fear consume me—for I will be granted eternity!”

With those words, Locke began to descend the stairs into the Neverend.

____________________




The night was young. The Nameless opened his eyes to greet the world. Looking around, he glanced at the clock ahead of him—only midnight. Had four hours really passed? It felt like four minutes. The Mindless shuffled around trying to find sleep once more, but could never locate it.

Finally giving up, the Nameless pulled himself up, and stepped out of the house to take a walk. He traveled for a few minutes, coming across a cathedral—rather large in comparison to the other buildings in Liedwein.

A passerby who had witnessed the Nameless gazing at the large church said to him, “They say that the end is coming.”

“The… end?” the Nameless questioned.

“Yeah… I think they’re crazy though,” he laughed, “it’s been almost three hundred years and the supposed ‘savior’ hasn’t even returned. I think it’s a load of crap.”

“I see…”

The passerby took another glance at the cloaked figure before him, “Hey… you’re the Nameless, ain’t ‘ya?”

The traveler was dressed in a warn-out gray garb. Underneath was a bleached white tunic with the collar sticking out above the felt garb. He wore thick glasses around his eyes just below his tamed, brown hair.

“Yeah… I guess I am…” the Nameless replied.

“The name’s Xiophyn,” the passerby informed, “I’m a preacher here.”

Ironic that a man of the church denounced the very beliefs of it so quickly. Xiophyn walked into the cathedral and signaled for the Nameless to follow suit.

Taking a few steps in the massive building, the Nameless had noticed that it hadn’t been taken care of over the years. The first time he was here, he remembered that this place flourished with believers, with hope. Now, it was just littered with stale air, unrefined.

“Personally,” he said, “I’m getting tired of waiting.”

“Xiophyn,” the Nameless interrupted, tired of hearing about religion, “what happened here? Why has this place become so barren when only ten years ago it was so lively?”

Xiophyn took a long sigh, “Well man, it’s like this,” Xiophyn explained, “ever since that takeover two years ago—“

“With the Grudge?”

“Right. Ever since the Grudge came back,” he started, “people started gettin’ tired of all these bad things happening. They felt betrayed by their lord. The spirit of the church began to die, day by day, after the elders were killed.”

“I see…”

“Yeah. It’s a shame, really.”

“Then my mission is clear,” the Nameless exclaimed, “Xiophyn, where can I find the Grudge now?”

“Same place they’ve always been,” Xiophyn replied, “just about ten miles westward. You might wanna watch out though.”

“Hm?”

“Ever since you killed their leader ten year’s ago, a man by the name of Galvin Gate took over,” Xiophyn advised, “made security there a hell of a lot tighter too.”

“Galvin Gate, eh?”

“Heard of ‘im?”

“You could say that.”

The Nameless tipped his sou’wester hat to Xiophyn, and headed outside of the church. Despite getting only a few hours of rest, he decided to go after the Grudge. He prepared himself with each step, getting closer and closer to their old hideaway.

In spite of being blind in one eye, the Nameless could see from far away that the Grudge had been keeping security much tighter than it was ten years ago. There were five guards at the main entrance—three more than before. It appeared that the changing of the guard was soon, as each sentry looked to be slacking a bit.

The Nameless took a deep breath before heading onwards, to avenge the death of Mena and the village elder. The crescent moon that once shined down was now engulfed by gray clouds. The Nameless plodded over to the five sentries guarding the door.

“It’s the Nameless,” scoffed the point, drawing his blade. He signaled for his comrades to stand down, “I’ll handle this,” he alleged with arrogance.

The Nameless stared blankly as the first sentry lunged at him. Waiting for the right moment, the Nameless quickly pulled out Cliff and swung at the guard’s gut just before he could strike. Clutching to his stomach as the blood seeped through the wound; the sentry fell to the floor. The Nameless smirked as he sheathed his blade. Watching their leader fell, the four remaining sentries each drew their weapons. Still ready, the Nameless unhinged his two hunting knives—Lu and Bei. Hadn’t used either in such a long time, the Nameless twirled them about in his hands as the sentries approached him.

The Nameless had a bright grimace upon his face during the long battle. Starting out, he flung Bei at the fourth sentry, managing to cut through his leather armor and slicing his chest. The second sentry was just trying to hold of Lu with his own blade. Throwing him off, the Nameless kicked the sentry hard in the stomach, knocking him down. Only two sentries remained. He wasted no effort on the first sentry, stabbing him in the side with Lu. Only one sentry left; the Nameless drew Cliff once more, and began fencing with his last adversary.

Waiting for the last sentry to make a mistake, the Nameless slammed his broad sword against his chest with its blunt side. He left every man alive, but cataleptic. He didn’t want anymore deaths as a result of the Grudge. He counted to five to make sure that they weren’t getting up, and retrieved his remaining weapons, Lu and Bei. He wiped the blood from the blades with his cloak, taking only a few seconds to regain his composure before he marched into the headquarters.

As he wandered through the halls of the massive quarters of the Grudge, the Nameless noticed the slight differences from when he attacked ten years ago. He moved stealthily through the hallways, felling everyone that got in his path. None of the underlings had any impact whatsoever.

It took an hour for the Nameless to move through the halls until he reached the main office. Stepping in front of the door as it opened automatically to the surprised leader—Galvin Gate.

“Well, well,” Gate mused, “if it isn’t the Nameless.”

“You killed them,” the Nameless spoke harshly, “you killed the elders.”

“Only to get back at you for what you did to our leader, Nameless,” Gate sneered.

“You took innocent lives just to get to me,” said the Nameless as he drew his broad sword, “such an act is unforgivable.”

“You can’t be serious, Nameless,” Gate snickered, “things have changed. You may have defeated me cheaply ten years ago, but you’re no match for me now.”

“I beg to differ,” the Nameless replied, “you have not changed at all.”

Galvin Gate smirked as his only weapon was revealed—holding his right first high, a sharp blade emerged from out of nowhere, it seemed. Both figures lunged at one another, blades outstretched.

Galvin Gate was right—he had changed in the past ten years. He was no longer impatient and quick to strike; he mainly played the fight defensively, as to tire out the Nameless. No matter how hard he tried, the Nameless could not get through his adversary’s blade. The fight dragged on until the Nameless’ fatigue caught up to him, giving Gate the perfect opportunity. Gate slammed down on the Nameless’ chest, knocking the wind away from the cloaked mercenary.

The only thing he heard before going under was the pity of Galvin Gate, “You spared my life ten years ago; I shall do the same for you,” he chuckled, “but that doesn’t mean that the waters below will be so lenient.

Galvin Gate waited until the Nameless’ eyes closed tightly before striding over to his desk. His blade slid back into its hidden position just as Gate slammed his fist down on a shiny red button on his desk.

The button activated a trap door placed conveniently below the Nameless, dropping him into the abyss. The Nameless fell for a few moments before he crashed into the waters below.

____________________




Locke looked once more for signs of familiarity. He was now in the fifth chamber of the Neverend, awaiting his next trial.

“for immortality…” hissed the same voice that had guided Locke through the chambers, “you must… defeat… the behemoth…”

“The behemoth?” Locke questioned.

Before Locke could delve further into the matter, the doorway leading to the next chamber opened up, revealing a large furred beast, indescribable by any means whatsoever. The behemoth roared a loud roar, causing the grounds to shake. Knowing not what to do, Locke quickly drew his long blade, and gripped it tight.

“I’ve come too far to back done,” he grunted.

Locke swung the sword left and right in attempts to intimidate the hell leviathan. The only thing he managed to do was enrage the beast. Lunging forward, the behemoth let out a loud, high-pitched noise. With his quick thinking, Locke quickly ducked out of the way, causing the behemoth to overshoot, swerving close to the mountainous wall.

Once more, the behemoth growled, throwing himself into Locke. The young man was trampled by the large furry beast, pressing as hard as he could upwards to get the leviathan off of his chest. Pushing up just barely enough, Locke managed to roll away from his foul opponent. Just before the behemoth could turn around, Locke plunged his long sword into the back of the creature, letting out a painful scream.

“well done, soul-less child…” said the hissing voice, “only two more trials await you…”

“I’m ready for them,” Locke tried to convince himself. The door leading to the next chamber opened up once more, allowing Locke to walk through, ready for any challenge that awaited him.

____________________


The Nameless opened his eyes, ‘Another strange dream,’ he thought to himself. He looked to his left and to his right, finding familiarity. He was back in Lisa’s home. But how did he get there?

“Finally woke up, eh?” questioned a familiar, masculine voice.

“Xiophyn?” Locke questioned, “What are you… doing here?”

“After you left, I figured you’d head up to the Grudge headquarters,” Xiophyn explained, “Lisa came with me because she was worried. I managed to get to their hideaway but couldn’t find you. Me an’ Lisa snooped around until we finally found you unconscious at the river bend. You’s lucky to be alive.”

“Alive…”

The Nameless wasted no time. He pulled himself away from the bed that Lisa and Xiophyn had put him on, and grabbed his companions—Mary, Lu, Bei, and Cliff. Grabbing the sou’wester hat and topping his head, he draped his long black trench over his shoulders, and took a few steps outside.

“Where are you going,” Lisa demanded.

“I have to bring an end to the Grudge,” the Nameless replied, “to avenge your parents’ deaths.”

“Let me come with you,” she said, “I can be of help to—“

“It is too dangerous, Lisa,” the Nameless interrupted, “I will not have any more needless bloodshed.”

The Nameless sprinted away from her sight as she sulked at the front door. Lance had met her there with a look of excitement, “Where’d he go? Is he gone?”

“He left again…” her short reply.

“Dammit,” Lance cursed, “I think I found some information on him…”

“But how?”

“Me an’ Xiophyn did some… erm… illegal research on him and found out some pretty interesting stuff…”

“I see,” Lisa acknowledged, “show me.”


The Nameless scurried to the same headquarters which defeated him the previous night. He worried not about fatigue, despite not even feeling any. Pure adrenaline enveloped the Nameless as he rushed to the Grudge hideaway near the river. He kept saying to himself, “I am not going down this time,” over and over.

He stared at the great stone structure in front of him. Baring no second thoughts, the Nameless pressed onwards. The outside remained unguarded, perhaps because the Grudge hadn’t fully recovered from the previous night. The Nameless took advantage of this opportunity, and stepped into the headquarters. Passing by each hallway until he made it into the center room, where several armed sentries were waiting for him, thirsty for revenge.

Each underling held their weapons high, all wanting a piece of his flesh. Just before they could do anything however, an unsettling voice called unto them, “Stand down, subsidiaries,” he said to them, “this fight belongs to me alone.”

Feeling disappointed, every one of the sentries withdrew their weapons, and allowed for Galvin Gate to dive down onto the floor below to meet with the Nameless eye to eye.

“I’m impressed,” Gate said to his adversary, “usually people die when the river swallows them.”

“I am not the usual person,” the Nameless leered.

Without second thought, both stood opposite one another with outstretched blades. “Just so you know, Nameless,” said Gate, “I won’t hesitate to kill you… this time…”

“Neither will I,” the Nameless spoke threateningly, “if it means that no more blood will be shed…”

Both men glared at each other just before lunging with full might. The Nameless had a clear shot at Gate’s bare head, and swung his sword with full force. However, just at the last second, Gate parried with his blade, easily knocking away Cliff. The Nameless’ broad sword fell to the ground, just out of reach.

With his instincts, the Nameless drew out Lu and Bei, blocking away Gate’s deathblow. While they were much smaller than his broad sword, the Nameless’ attacks were much more offensive to his opponent. Trying to dodge and attack against two blades proved much more difficult for Galvin Gate. Getting no opportunity to land an offensive strike, Gate shied away just momentarily to find an opening. At this point, but warriors had a few feet between them, each taking a few seconds to breathe.

Galvin Gate saw his one opening, his one chance to make this fight his. Swiftly, Gate lunged forward with his blade at point, and then at the last second, with all his strength, he pulled upwards with enough force to knock both knives away from the Nameless. Lu and Bei hit the closest wall with a loud clanging sound.

Galvin Gate scoffed as his opponent was without a weapon, “Not so tough now,” he laughed, “how ‘ya gonna fight without a weapon, Nameless?”

“Do not count me out just yet, Gate,” the Nameless mocked.

As to not give any opportunity to the Nameless, Gate dove forward pressing down on his opponent. Laying on the floor, the Nameless struggled to keep Gate’s blade from penetrating his flesh with his right hand. Meanwhile, with his left, he was attempting to unhinge his last resort, Mary. Managing only pull the pistol from its harness, the Nameless closed his eyes as he pointed the barrel at Gate’s chest. Gate was too busy trying to stab his enemy that he hadn’t noticed the Nameless’ last ditch effort.

The cloaked mercenary squeezed the trigger, and with a loud bang, Galvin Gate fell to the ground next to the Nameless, clutching his wound.

The smoke fell from the barrel to the air as the Nameless withdrew his last weapon. He stood up, gazing at all the subordinates. He gave them all a menacing stare, a stare that said ‘Don’t mess with me’. Obviously remembering how dangerous he was to them last night, the Grudge subordinates stood down. The Nameless smiled as he gazed down one last time at Galvin Gate.

Still clutching onto his wound, Galvin Gate spoke to his adversary, “You shall not leave this room… alive…” he coughed.

“Look around you, Gate,” the Nameless exclaimed, “your men are too scared to attack now, and for good reason.”

Blood had stained Gate’s hands just before he breathed his final breath. His eyelids remained opened, but his mind, his body, they were already dead. The Nameless placed his gloved hand over them, and closed them. For a moment he felt pity for the notorious leader of the Grudge. He turned to face all the witnesses of the demise, and they just stood there without words. They could not fight—most of them were still weak from yesterday. The subordinates just stood there blankly whilst the Nameless simply retrieved his companions, and left the headquarters.

Without knowing it, the Nameless had sent a message to them. Lacking a leader, the Grudge would not continue. No one could stand up to it, fearing for their lives what would happen to them. The Nameless had killed their first leader, and now has killed their second. There was no reason for them to continue.

The Nameless left the hideaway with only a few minor bruises. He was quite amazed, however didn’t show it with his emotions. He just wandered calmly to Liedwein—he needed rest… badly.

He didn’t even make it to the village before passing out. Luckily, Lance, Xiophyn, and Lisa were anticipating his arrival, and brought the cloaked mercenary to shelter.

The trio struggled to bring him to the house, propping him down on the sofa. The worried about him, especially Lisa, who stayed by his side for hours waiting for him to awaken from his slumber.

____________________


Locke sat in his room, emotionless. He didn’t want to believe what just happened. The television remained on, even though he wasn’t watching it. Could they really be gone? No, of course not. Profane, Locke wished the day away. He grabbed a bottle of unknown liquid, and took several swigs just before slamming it to the ground below. The glass shattered into several shards.

His tear-stained face; he kept saying in a monotone voice, “This day never happened; this day never happened…” Despite knowing all too well that the events truly did happen. God was cruel, especially to him.

“Why did you let this happen?” he fumed, enraged with God’s serendipity.

“i can tell you why…” said a sinister voice.

“Wh-whose there?” he looked around desperately trying to find someone. He didn’t want to feel this… emptiness… any longer. He wanted to feel loved again.

“i can tell you why he allowed this…”

Locke continued to look left and right, seeing no one but himself locked away in his bedroom.

“stop looking for me… i am always with you…”

Locke was without words.

“he did this to punish you,” cursed the voice, “you cannot be redeemed for your sins, child…”

“My… sins…”

“yes, child,” hissed the voice, “sympathy comes only from me, child… i can make everything go away… i can give you… eternity…”

Locke was starting to worry. Who was talking to him? How did this person know of his fear of death?

Answers never came to him. Locke hid underneath the covers, drowning out the baleful voice that had plagued him for four years until one day—one day, when Locke decided to trust this person. It was exactly four years after his family died, February 16th, 280F.

He one day met the character Ba’al at the Neverend, where he would make himself eternal.

“This must be the place,” said Locke as he stopped near the deep stairwell.

He took one last glance at the mid-day sky before he took the plunge. His skin became littered with thousands of goose bumps. Was he ready? Of course not, but that didn’t stop him. Clutching tightly to his navy blue jacket, Locke readied himself for the inevitable.

“No longer am I to let death frighten me,” he said to no one but himself, “I will decline these steps into the Neverend, and I will strike a deal with Ba’al. I will no longer let fear consume me—for I will be granted eternity!”

With those words, Locke began to descend the stairs into the Neverend.

Step. Step. Step. The Locke wandered down the endless staircase with his latest purchase—the heavy long sword that laid beside him.

____________________


The Nameless awoke once more inside the home of Lisa and Lance. The dream he had, it was almost like the one he had days ago. The pieces were starting to flow together well, but he still didn’t know anything.

“You’re awake,” exclaimed the young girl at his side, clinging on to him as if letting go would forfeit her life.

The Nameless grunted, “Easy, Lisa…”

“You are… well?”

“Yes,” he answered, “I’m gonna be okay. I just need to take it easy for the next few days, that’s all.”

“So you won’t be heading off then?” Lisa mused.

“Not for awhile, no.”

The young lass let out a shrill of excitement. Admittedly, she still had strong feelings for the cloaked mercenary, and hoped to make him feel the same for her.

Over the course of the next few days, the Nameless recovered his strength, to the point where he could freely walk around without aid, much to Lisa’s dismay. Lance wanted to show him the information he found days ago, so both of them sat in front of Lance’s dusty computer screen.

“I found this news clip on the day you left, and thought you’d find it interesting, sir.” Lance said as he scanned through the many files on his computer. Finally locating the file, he double-clicked his old gray mouse and the movie loaded.

____________________


“Trouble struck today as a Midwestern-bound aircraft plummeted to the ground early this morning. Locals say that the aircraft’s engine had suddenly burst into flames without warning. Despite the captain’s efforts to safely land the plane, it crash landed into a forest just outside of Talla’weh. There was a handful of survivors, however not everyone aboard the T-19 Midwest subsisted. Officials identified the four deceased people: Cliff, Mary, Lu, and Bei Dièmestès. Time of death was February 16th, 276F.”

“In other news; you may think that it’s too early to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the Great Flood, but for the people—“

____________________


The Nameless simply stood there in awestruck. Did his ears deceive him? Was that news article accurate? He then turned to the dream he had a few nights prior. He heard a voice screaming,

“Why did you let this happen?”

Was he that child? Was he that child—Locke Dièmestès? Was he that child fourteen years ago?

He didn’t believe it. He refused to believe it. Nothing made sense to him anymore… he had to go… he had to go… somewhere. He had to hide himself… from himself…

For the first time in ten years, the Nameless felt tears trickle down his face. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

Without saying goodbye, the Nameless quickly grabbed his things and departed from the small village of Liedwein. His head was flooding with thoughts of, “I have to know something; I have to know something.”


Struggling to get away from it all, the Nameless vowed never to return to the people who loved him until he knew the truth. Someone was hiding something from him… but who… and what... he did not know.

© Copyright 2005 The End of Ages (FictionPress ID:347625). All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of The End of Ages.

[Greyfox]

III

It had been just a few days since his sudden departure from all he knew. The Nameless sat alone in the bleak caverns just outside of the nearest town of Illardi. He spent days away from civilization despite it only being a mile or two away. His face was still tear-stained from all the sleepless nights.

Just one night ago he realized what the news story meant to him. His family died, fourteen years ago. He was just a young boy, Locke Dièmestès—eighteen years of age. They were going to Talla’weh to see his grandparents. He himself could not go because he had fencing lessons every day that week. A pitiful excuse now… but if not for that, he’d be dead… along with his family.

He spent this day in mourning for his former self, fourteen years ago. He was still the Nameless. He wasn’t ready to go back to that life, not yet anyway.

He had already retired his present arsenal of weapons, the pistol, the hunting knives, and the broad sword. He finally knew what their names had meant. His mother, his younger twin sisters, and his father—all felled by one incident. Perhaps this… God-fellow… had something in mind in not allowing Locke Dièmestès to die as well.

He had decided that tonight would be his last night in hiding, but he would not return to his friends in Liedwein just yet. He still needed answers, and hoped to find them in Illardi.

The Nameless took one last glance at the memorials—each weapon penetrating the earth just enough to stand up. He had etched the respected names—Mary, Lu, Bei, and Cliff, in the sands below, hopefully to be seen and remembered by all travelers who ventured this cavern. He pulled his sou’wester hat down over his face, and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

The rain began to fall, heavier and faster, but that couldn’t keep the Nameless awake.

____________________

“you are now in the sixth chamber, soul-less child…” spoke the familiar demonic voice.

“Just two more trials to go…” Locke said to himself as he gazed around the cavernous chapter.

“you must choose, soul-less child,” hissed the voice, “you must choose…”

“Choose between what,” Locke asked.

Before Locke could look around even further, three chests appeared before him. They were all a gouty gold color, with jewels encrusted upon each one.

“you must choose, soul-less child,” once more the voice hissed.

“How do I know what’s inside?” Locke asked nervously.

“what you really want is in one chest… what not you want is in the other two,” the voice exclaimed, “let your mind lead you…”

Locke took a deep sigh, closing his eyes. He thought long and hard towards the three chests. Which one contained eternity? He was afraid of what would happen if he chose the wrong chest. Blindingly, Locke pulled himself to the left-most chest, and dared open it. There was nothing inside.

“Did I pick the wrong one?” he asked.

“come hither,” the voice finished.

The door to the final chamber opened up, and Locke wandered to it. Not knowing it, perhaps he did choose the wrong chest?

____________________


The Nameless opened up his eyes. Tomorrow had come, but the sun was not out. Shielded by the clouds, the Nameless peered outside the cavern. No rainfall just yet, but he could tell that it had rained over the nightfall.

The Nameless stepped out of the cave, and started his trek to Illardi. Illardi was a vast town, known best for its high trade routes—the Nameless had visited there before. It was a wealthier city than Ela’net or Liedwein, but not as well off as Mela’beh. There hasn’t been a city that the Nameless has been to better off than Mela’beh.

Upon entering the small city, the Nameless had a strange feeling encompass him—it was a feeling of trust; of familiarity. There was something about Illardi that he hadn’t noticed the first time he was here, but the Nameless couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

The cloaked mercenary began to wander through the town, looking for something to arouse his interests, for something to just jump out at him. He eventually stumbled upon an older, abandoned home at the south end of the city. Boards covered the broken windows; shattered glass littered the deck. Cautiously, the Nameless peered inside.

The home wasn’t all abandoned, at least. There was some beaten up furniture sprawled haphazardly, torn to shreds, it seemed. It was almost as if the previous resident was angry, and didn’t have anything else to take it out on.

The Nameless crept up the battered staircase. With each sequential step, a loud squeaking noise followed. Nothing in this house was taken care of—not for a few years, it seemed. The Nameless looked at all the pictures; they were all torn and lopsided as they hung on the wall.

With each new step, the Nameless felt a burning sensation in his heart. What was going on? Where was he? Questions only answered by the Nameless pressing onward. He had to know the truth, and this house seemed to have it.

Top of the stairs, the Nameless went the only way he could that wasn’t blocked by debris. He walked to the right side of the house where just one doorway greeted him. Cautiously, he opened the door, and stepped inside.


The Nameless closed his eyes and he saw—he saw a young child… he saw the young child Locke Dièmestès.

Locke sat in his room, emotionless. He didn’t want to believe what just happened. The television remained on, even though he wasn’t watching it. Could they really be gone? No, of course not. Profane, Locke wished the day away. He grabbed a bottle of unknown liquid, and took several swigs just before slamming it to the ground below. The glass shattered into several shards.

Opening his eyes, the dream was gone. All that was in front of him was the present. Looking the room up and down, he saw everything of his former life. He saw the shattered liquor bottles provide a river of glass shards; he saw the mattress that he used to sleep on, stained and crusted; he saw the dreams he had fourteen years ago... vanished without a trace. Was he himself the soul-less child Locke Dièmestès?

The Nameless stood there without emotion. Even after all this… he still felt nothing. It was getting late—the sun had already fallen into the abyss, replaced by it the crescent moon. The Nameless sat down idly on the unmade mattress. The stale air polluted his surroundings. The Nameless began to piece together the mystery.

When his family died, Locke Dièmestès found comfort to alcohol and drugs. There were nights that he went pillaging form his old friends, his neighbors, just to survive. Fearing death, he dreamt of a way to live forever. He made a deal with the devil… exchanging his soul for eternity.

But he still didn’t know everything.

The Nameless drifted once again into the dismal sleep. This sleep was much different from the others, however. He slept the entire night away, not bothered by memories of the past. He slept the entire night away, no bothered by dreams of yesteryear. He slept through the night, and part of the tomorrow.

The sun shined bright through the broken window, a cool breeze swam through to greet the Nameless’ pale white skin. Groggily, the cloaked mercenary awoke. Wasting no time, the Nameless grabbed his things and exited the dated wooden home.

As his boots hit the pavement below, he was greeted by an older fellow, about early-thirties. The burly man bore a small fuzzy mustache, and wore a navy blue uniform, “You there…”

“Hm?”

“They say that you’re the Nameless,” the uniformed man called out, “is that true?”

“People call me that, yes…”

“My name is Agent Smallsdael,” said the agent, “the Control has a mission for you.”

“A mission?”

“Yes, follow me.”

“I… I can’t,” the Nameless started, “I don’t have any weapons with me…”

“It’s no matter, we have something for you…”

“Very well.”

Smallsdael led the Nameless out of the poor district, and into the main chapter of Illardi. Right next to the City Hall resided a rather large, brick building. It was well over four stories high. A sign over the door read, “ILLARDI POLICE CONTROL”.


“What kind of… weapon… is this…” the Nameless mused, holding what appeared to be a simple chamber in his right hand.

“That there sir, is the Gunblade MKII,” informed the Control’s head weapons technician, Agent Leroy, “its prototype was one of the Control’s best weapons, erm… until it exploded.”

“Exploded?”

“R-right… but we have that problem taken care of,” Agent Leroy added, trying to ease away from the subject of the previous model, “it’s a small cannon as well as a sword all in one…”

“You’re telling me that this is an ‘all-in-one’ weapon, Leroy,” the Nameless said skeptically, perusing the cold metal chamber in his hand.

“Correct—press the red button at the top end of the chamber, sir,” Agent Leroy advised.

The Nameless examined the Gunblade until he found the said red button. Depressing it with his index finger, a sharp blade drew quickly from the chamber, “Hm… interesting…” The blade was a good three feet long, leaving the Nameless to wonder how it fit in such a small space. Further analysis told him that the blade had several depressions—allowing the blade to retract within itself, thus permitting it to fit in the chamber.

“Good, good,” said Agent Leroy, “now press it once more.”

Doing as the agent said, the Nameless once more pressed down the small red button on top of the chamber. In doing so, the blade instantly retracted.

“Very good—now the green button on the other side,” Agent Leroy said, “make sure to aim it at that target over there—“ Leroy pointed to a large bull’s eye target on the far left wall of the room. “Now press that green button.”

The Nameless held the chamber up, perpendicular to the target in front of him. Taking a moment, he held his thumb over the green button, and pressed it down slightly. A loud bang was heard; not expecting such a loud noise from such a small device, the Nameless was sent back a few steps.

The smoke lifted from the barrel at the other end. The Nameless peered at the target, seeing a small bullet hole in the dead center. His aim was precise.

“Good show, sir,” said Agent Smallsdael.

“Illardi Intelligence has been working on this weapon for years,” started Agent Leroy, “it’s good to see it working.”

“I see…” the Nameless replied, “now what about this mission?”

Agent Smallsdael led the Nameless into the Control’s war room. The wall was covered with monitors of various sizes and shapes. A cherry wood desk sat in the center of the room with mountains of paperwork sitting idly by.

At the end of the room stood a tall, silver-haired man. He had glasses wrapped around his eyes, and was wearing a maroon uniform rather than the navy blue the others were wearing.

“Nameless, this is Captain Zen’husholtz,” Smallsdael introduced.

“Zen’husholtz?” the Nameless queried.

“Yes—he was the one who sent for you.”

“I see.”

“You must be the Nameless,” said Zen’husholtz as he extended his right hand to the cloaked mercenary.

“People call me that, yes,” the Nameless replied, shaking the hand of the man in front of him, up and down, up and down.

“I’ve heard good things about you, Nameless,” Zen’husholtz supposed, “that’s why I sent for you.”

“What is the mission?”

“This mission is very important,” informed the captain, “that is why we are prepared to offer you fifteen hundred, as well as your own Gunblade MKII.”

“Again… what is the mission, Captain Zen’husholtz?”

“Straight to the point, eh,” Zen’husholtz humored, “I like that.”

Captain Zen’husholtz explained to the Nameless the very important mission in his office behind the war room.

“One question though,” the Nameless pondered.

“Shoot.”

“Why me?”

“We’ve heard of your work in Liedwein, Nameless,” the captain explained, “we heard that you single-handedly took down the entire organization of the Grudge. We need someone of your caliber.”

“Very well,” said the Nameless, “I will accept your mission.”

The Nameless wandered just outside of the city with his new weapon attached to his belt. The captain informed him of an abandoned military base just outside of town where there were experiments performed, not only on animals, but humans as well. Something got out of hand, causing the experiment ZeroX1 to get loose. Because it was so ghastly, the experiment ended up killing every one of the persons inside of the base.

Captain Zen’husholtz only explained that the creature was atrocious, nothing more, so the Nameless knew not of what to expect. He just hoped that the Gunblade supplied was weapon enough to defeat the leviathan.


Not even an hour passed before the Nameless reached the abandoned military foundation. The base was tired, ruined. The inside was drunken with the stink of the dead. Blood stained the stainless steel walls; several tears and scratch marks every which way. The Nameless continued through the lifeless halls looking for the massive leviathan.

The foul odor swam throughout the abandoned base, getting worse with each sequential step. The Nameless entered the final hall, opening the large metal door leading to the barren elevator shaft. Figuring only eight or nine feet from the bottom, the Nameless let himself fall to the basement floor.

The foul stench become even worse as the Nameless stepped into the basement of the foundation. He looked to the far end of the chamber, spotting the massive leviathan, feasting on a long-dead corpse.

“Behemoth,” the Nameless cried out, “by order of the Control, I shall eliminate you.”

The beast snarled loud, turning to face his antagonist. As the Nameless glared into the eyes of the massive furry beast, he looked back to another fight—

Before Locke could delve further into the matter, the doorway leading to the next chamber opened up, revealing a large furred beast, indescribable by any means whatsoever. The behemoth roared a loud roar, causing the grounds to shake. Knowing not what to do, Locke quickly drew his long blade, and gripped it tight.

The Nameless drew his weapon, and gripped the chamber tight. Depressing the red button, the sharp metal blade extracted. The furred leviathan growled as it stomped on the ground, trying to sound intimidating. The Nameless wasn’t intimidated.

Locke swung the sword left and right in attempts to intimidate the hell leviathan. The only thing he managed to do was enrage the beast. Lunging forward, the behemoth let out a loud, high-pitched noise. With his quick thinking, Locke quickly ducked out of the way, causing the behemoth to overshoot, swerving close to the mountainous wall.

The Nameless swung the blade left and right, to get a feel for the new weapon. Feeling confident, he dared the beast to lunge forward. Enraged, the massive leviathan rushed the cloaked mercenary. Just barely ducking out of the way, the large beast overshot, ramming into the concrete wall of the basement.

Once more, the behemoth growled, throwing himself into Locke. The young man was trampled by the large furry beast, pressing as hard as he could upwards to get the leviathan off of his chest. Pushing up just barely enough, Locke managed to roll away from his foul opponent. Just before the behemoth could turn around, Locke plunged his long sword into the back of the creature, letting out a painful scream.

Letting out all its strength, the beast once more lunged at the Nameless. Not knowing what to expect, the Nameless was trounced by the furred leviathan. The beast’s unclean breathe was like poison, as its sticky saliva landed against the Nameless’ forehead. He could feel the beast’s claws ripping into his flesh.

Using all the energy he had, the Nameless threw the beast off of him. The leviathan screeched as it slammed against a cement pylon. Just like the last fight with a behemoth, the Nameless plunged the Gunblade into the beast’s hide as soon as he had a free moment. Unlike the last fight with a behemoth, the beast only let out a loud shrill, not dead, just angered.

Carefully, the Nameless pulled his weapon from the beast, and dove out of the way as it tried to swipe at him with its claws. Closing his eyes, the Nameless retracted his blade into the chamber, and held it high against the beast.

His right hand trembled violently as he held the weapon up high, thumb hovering over the green button. He silently whispered, “By order of the Control, I shall eliminate you.”

Suddenly, his violent shaking was no more as he rapidly depressed the green button over and over, unloading an unusual beret of explosive bullets to his enemy. He fired until he could no longer hear the loud banging noise.

The massive behemoth yelped in pain, perhaps falling down for always. The Nameless opened his eyes and glanced one last time at experiment ZeroX1, no longer dangerous, for it was slain.

The Nameless looked down at himself. Blood seeped through his battered black shirt with no signs of stopping. He pulled off his long black trench, and ripped apart his shirt. With the solitaire pieces now dangling on the floor, the Nameless wrapped it tightly over his torso, as to temporarily stop the bleeding. He grabbed his coat and draped it over his shoulders and headed back to the outside world.

As soon as he stepped outside of the abandoned facility, the Nameless collapsed from exhaustion.

____________________


Locke Dièmestès stepped into the final room of the Neverend. The voice that followed him was no longer just a voice, now a figure.

“i welcome you… soul-less child… to the neverend…” said the figure that stood before him.

“Are you… are you Ba’al?” Locke questioned.

“indeed, soul-less child… i am… ba’al… the angelus… corpus…”

“Angelus… corpus… the Fallen Angel…” Locke said to himself, “Then you can help me achieve my goal, yes?” Locke pondered.

“yes, soul-less child…” Ba’al replied in the same menacing voice that guided Locke through the Neverend, “i can bring you… to a place… where not even yahweh… can save you…”

“Yahweh… God?”

“yes… soul-less child… yes…”

“I… I… I don’t care,” Locke stuttered, “I just want no longer to fear death… I want to be alive for always…”

“then eternity… i shall give unto thee…”

Ba’al stepped away from his golden thrown, down the small rock staircase to meet Locke Dièmestès eye to eye. Locke took a look at his temporary savior—the angelus corpus was tall, but human-like. Not like all the fables portrayed. Ba’al stood with a long red cape flowing behind him. He was winged, but they were long frayed, burnt and blackened, hardly useful at all. At his right side laid the great hell sword, Ragnarok.

“i give unto thee… two gifts…” said Ba’al, withdrawing his blade, “i give unto thee… the gift of eternal life…”

Locke’s heart began to beat, faster and faster it went—until it came to a sudden halt, unexplained, “Wh-what’s happening?” He trembled.

“i give unto thee… the last wound that will ever heal…”

Locke closed his eyes as Ba’al quickly thrust the Ragnarok upwards, slashing at his left eye. The blood that trickled down his face was temporary, as the wound was instantly scarred, colorless. As Locke drifted into death, he heard these final words,

“now you are at a place where not even yahweh can save you…”

… and that was the last time he had ever heard the voice of Ba’al, the Angelus Corpus.

____________________


The Nameless shot awake. The sweat poured down his face as he contemplated what had just happened. Where was he? Without second thought, the Nameless pulled his sun shades away from his face, revealing his two eyes—one blue like the cerulean seas, the other dead. He placed his ungloved hand upon the colorless scar, and felt it up and down. The final piece of the puzzle was in place.

And now… the Nameless could figure out his mystery.

He was indeed Locke Dièmestès, slain by the devil on that day, February 16th, 280F. He wasn’t granted eternal life… he was just never sentence to hell. But why?

The Nameless had apparently spent four days comatose in the infirmary in Illardi. Several members of the Control found him passed out at the floor of the abandoned military base, so they dragged him here. Still lying in his hospital bed, the Nameless closed his eyes once more.


It was the fifth morning since the Nameless had been hospitalized. Captain Zen’husholtz stood at his bedside along with Agent Smallsdael. The Nameless opened his eyes to greet the world around him.

“We went to the military base,” said Smallsdael, “luckily for us… that creature, that thing… was killed…”

“You did a good thing, Nameless,” the captain congratulated.

The first words in almost a week, the Nameless replied, “Thank-you, Captain Zen’husholtz, Agent Smallsdael.”

“As promised,” said Zen’husholtz, “here is your penance for defeating the leviathan.”

“Because of you, Nameless,” Smallsdael started, “we can now reclaim the military base—for good intentions, of course.”

“That’s good… to know…” the Nameless coughed.

A few days had passed, and the Nameless had finally brought himself back to Liedwein. He was welcomed with open arms as Lisa, Lance, and Xiophyn waited at the town’s end for him; Lisa apparently waited every night there for his return.

“What happened to your companions?” Lance asked.

“I retired them,” the Nameless replied, “they’re monuments to my family.”

“You have family?” Lisa questioned innocently.

“Had family.” The Nameless stressed the word ‘had’ with an unclean frown upon his face.

“Oh… I see…” she said in an apologetic tone.

During the next few days, the Nameless told the three about his adventures in Illardi—the Gunblade MKII, which Lance was eager to peruse, the behemoth, the dreams he had been having as of late, and his family.

“I still have one last destination,” said the Nameless.

“You plan to leave me… us… again?” Lisa questioned with sadness in her voice.

“Yes—to Talla’weh,” he advised, “my grandparents live there. I want to know if they are alive.”

“I see…” she said, “When do you plan on leaving?”

“Not for awhile,” the Nameless replied, “I need rest.”

Much to her comfort, Lisa laughed with glee. Still with feelings for the cloaked mercenary, she hoped she could finally get him to love her in the same way that she did him.


The Nameless walked the streets of Liedwein late that night, gazing at the cathedral. He pondered a few minutes before deciding finally to head inside. Xiophyn was still inside, kneeling over the altar for a few minutes.

“You’re… praying?” asked the Nameless.

“Heh… yeah… this religion crap seems to grow on me…” Xiophyn explained.

The Nameless turned his humor aside, and became even more serious than usual, “I need to talk to you, Xiophyn.”

“What about?” he asked.

“Fourteen years ago, I finally know the truth,” the Nameless started, “you see, after my family was killed, I succumbed to drugs and alcohol a lot, and eventually began to hear a voice as each night let on.”

“I see…”

“The voice was menacing… it was cold and dark,” the Nameless explained, “he asked me to follow him to the Neverend… and I did…”

The preacher man was without words.

“I sold my soul to the devil, Xiophyn,” he started, “I sold my soul for eternal life. But Ba’al, the devil… he… he…”

Xiophyn listened to the story as the Nameless told it.

Struggling to form the right words, the Nameless went out with it, “I am a dead man, Xiophyn… I was killed on February 16th, 280L—four years after my family.”

Trying desperately to believe the words that the Nameless was telling him, Xiophyn spoke up, “H-how is it possible… that you still walk this earth?”

“I… do not know,” the Nameless replied, “I do not know why I walk this earth… I do not know why I was never sentenced to perpetuity in hell…”

Xiophyn took a step back and a deep sigh, “This is some heavy stuff, man…”

“I know…”

“Sounds like you got another mystery to solve there, Nameless…”

“Indeed…”


The Nameless returned to his dwelling, lying down peacefully on the beat-up sofa below him. Just before finally drifting away into the peaceful siesta, he was greeted with an angelic, child-like voice.

“Hello, Locke,” said the peaceful voice.

“Wh-whose there,” the Nameless looked around and saw no one.

“I know what one thing you lack, Locke,” said the voice, “I have the one thing you truly want…”

Frightened, the Nameless questions once more, “Who are you?”

“I am your last client, Locke,” the voice claimed, “I will end your suffering.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Meet me… at the Thirteen-Month Stair,” the angelic voice proclaimed, “then you will know…”

Those were the last words of the childish voice. The Nameless was no longer plagued with them. The room was quiet as he finally fell into slumber.


The young lass woke up and looked to the living area. The Nameless was gathering his things, readying a sudden departure.

“I thought you weren’t leaving for awhile,” she said to him.

“I’m not going to Talla’weh, Lisa,” he replied, “I have one last client that wants me at the Thirteen-Month Stair…”

“H-how long will you be gone,” she asked him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I… do not know…”

Just as the Nameless exited the front door, Lisa called out to him, “Just… just try not to let another ten years pass before I see you again…”

The Nameless turned to her and nodded, tipping his sou’wester hat as he turned away.

He managed to reach the end of town before he heard her voice screaming unto him, “Wait!”

He turned to see the adolescent girl bolting towards him, open arms. The Nameless accepted the girl’s hard embrace as she buried her face into his chest, “Please… please don’t go…”

“I’m sorry… I must…” he said to her, cold, harsh.

Lisa’s heart began to beat, faster and faster, racing against nothingness. She only had one shot. The young girl placed her hand behind the Nameless’ neck, and pulled him down once more allowing their lips to meet. The kiss was much longer than their first, and yet… the Nameless still had to break away.

“I… I’m sorry… I cannot…” he said to her.

The tears chased one another down the young girl’s face, it felt as if her heart was split in two. She watched as the man she loved turned away from her once more, and pressed onwards.

Trying to forgive herself, she wanted him to leave on a high note. She called for him once more.

“But sir,” questioned the young lass as she faced the cloaked figure, “what name shall I give?”

“Hm?”

“What name should I give the people when I tell them of you?”

The cloaked figure halted, turning to face her—“Young lass,” he replied, with a robust voice, “give them the name, Locke Dièmestès.”

Lisa smiled as she finally learned the name of the cloaked mercenary. Her face tear-stained, she returned home.


The Nameless wandered over to the cave that stood just outside of Illardi, where he had lived for nearly a week. He peered inside, seeing the monuments still in place.

“Mother… Father… Sisters…” he said to no one but himself, “I will be with you again one day…”

Those final words, the sun that once set high in the sky blazing had now drifted down into the abyss whilst the bright crescent moon took its place.

© Copyright 2005 The End of Ages (FictionPress ID:347625). All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of The End of Ages.