Memories floated past him in resounding waves of pure, unfiltered creation. Everything that had ever been of him drifted through the infinite abyss, moving in massive streams of time unshackled by the reality that previously bound it. The great, stretching caravan of his existence swam together like pods of whales in the sea; they huddled closely together to shelter the smaller less palpable memories with their enormous bodies and in so doing kept away the predators that lurked just behind the veil of non-existence. In that moment, held loosely in the middle of the pod and untethered to any of his memories, he felt like everything; existence so thoroughly pervaded every single minute facet of his soul that he himself ceased to be. It was like the thought that came before a thought, the brief flash of time where all the depth and nuance words could bring were compressed down into a second of surefire gut instinct. For a moment, he understood a key truth about the existence he’d dwelled in for so long.
A memory grazed him and brought back his sense of self. What passed for his senses, more a collection of vague cerebral inputs lacking sensory outside input, slowly allowed him to understand the scope of his situation. He was naked, truly and fully. Everything he was sat on display for any passing visitor to see, and he was unable to cover any of it. What predators waited just beyond earshot was unknown to him, but even given a being truly altruistic, he felt sharing all that he was would pollute him somehow. Make him less than he already was.
The lack of sensations went on for a time. No sound came to him in the void, no God spoke out to comfort him and welcome him to the afterlife. He simply was; pure consciousness. Loneliness would overtake him if her were anyone else, but he’d been alone long before being sent here.
Eventually, he heard something. A ghostly chorus sang out and echoed into the null space, beautifully combined into one singular enchanting song. The sound comforted him. He knew not where it came from or where it ended, but that something so wonderful existed soothed his shocked and terrified mind. He wanted to sing, wanted to join the heavenly chorus, wanted to find companionship in the warm openness, and so searched for the song deep within his soul.
He found it after an excruciating period of learning. A voice, his, echoed out into the wilderness. The song was weak and hesitant, and broke off at times when the act exhausted him, but with repetition gained strength and confidence. It was still, however, wrong. It sounded differently than the resplendent glory of the original, hollow and pitiful by comparison. He tried harder, working himself to the point he could no longer sing, but still could not replicate even a fraction of the splendor he heard.
As the song intensified in strength around him, he sat still and listened. Time uncountable passed until, with the knowledge of the symphony etched into his very being, he began his song again. It was beautiful and hummed out from him, filling the previously empty surrounding full of nothing with something. Like a whale’s calf calling to its mother he sang even louder, and was rewarded with a response. The thing’s stentorian song was immense in volume but not tumultuous or deafening; it in fact felt the opposite. His senses dampened and he calmed, swaddled in rolling blankets of peace.
The ceaseless incongruous mass approached him with long appendages and watched cautiously for a moment, then gently caressed and explored his form. Anathema in nature though it should have been the being’s presence comforted him, the “pressure” of its touch compressing him into a smaller more connected ball of himself.
At first the prodding movements of it felt prying and inspired utter rejection inside of him. He squirmed under its explorations, echoes of the past somehow playing simultaneously in his consciousness all the while reality remained in motion. The sensation was horrific. Feeling everything as if he were there while watching as an outside observer that was himself but far removed. Slowly, however, the touch became less alien and much gentler in nature. Whatever the vague collection of souls in front of him was gradually understood more of how he worked and in doing so diminished the profound feeling of wrongness inside him. Slowly, surely, it molded him into the shape of the man he used to be.
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It wrapped around him and drew him closer to itself, surrounding him with its own soft form. The embrace continued to drive him inward, deep into the central mass of the thing. He felt others, their presence distinct and separate from his own, compressed inside of the creature and a part of it but still unique from the thing itself. He waited to be allowed entry into its sanctum, to be greeted by brothers and sisters in the afterlife but found himself cast out into the open once again. A cry of despair emanated from him, and he sang out in the hope that it would accept him once more, but it did not. It responded with sorrow of its own, but drifting away back into the eternal void. He could do nothing but weep at its departure. Come what may, he was alone now, utterly abandoned by the powers that be.
Ranald mewled on the bedroll as Vis removed her arm from where it rested across his chest. Cute. She watched him squirm, then stood and made her way into the daylight. The mail on her armor jingled as she did and the annoyance of having it on suddenly came back to her.
The steel is nice, but I think it’s about time to take it off. She lowered her head and sniffed at her pits, wrinkling her nose. Rancid.
She stood and stretched, basking in the radiant glow of the sunlight. Her senses met with the sights around her. Birds flew through the wind on gentle, warm currents of air and sang their songs for all to hear. The grass, previously brown and dying, was now green and dripped with the morning dew. Fish swam down the river and jumped to reach the pleasantly blossoming sky. Prey animals basked on the various rocks scattered around the plains and even the predators themselves became one with the peace of the morning. Everything she could see sat still in time, unmoving in the caressing grip of the moment. Her lungs filled with air and held the breath captive for a time. She felt her shoulders fall, then her teeth unclench, and finally allowed her lungs to release their contents.
The tent came down much easier than it’d gone up. The massive wooden stakes pulled out of the ground like picked flowers, the canvas wrapping around the poles to make its own bag. She took a step to where the campfire’s remains sat and kicked the stones into the river along with any ashes left by the fire. Then, with quick steps, turned and walked back to the unconscious man. The journey was likely to be quite long even if there was less to hold; she frankly hated the thought of carrying dead weight on her back any further than where she could toss him. Her gaze drifted down to the incapacitated knight. His face appeared peaceful in the light of day, devoid of any worry or struggle he might have experienced in the previous days. Little bastard better be on his hands and knees after this, she thought as she shouldered him once more, my time isn’t free.
It was, indeed, to be a long unpleasant journey; sweat pooled in her armor until the cloth she wore was soaked through, and the previously pleasant warmth of the sun turned into unbearable heat. Would hate to run into an enemy right now, its too damn hot for a fight. She scoffed and the sound echoed into the plains surrounding her. Why would I involve myself any further? It’s not my war. I’ve got my prize, I’ve got land to claim and babies to make. What more could a woman ask for?
Vis looked at the knight resting on her shoulders. I do wonder if he’ll try to run when he wakes. Mother warned me about honorable men. Ranald’s arm in her hand made her reconsider her statement. It felt brittle in her fist, despite the steel surrounding it. If he tries, I can always catch him again. He’ll learn to love me soon enough.
