“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.
Angelus Corpus
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