The nameless man awoke with a shock. For a few moments he forgot where he was completely and as he tried to remember he knew that when he did, he would not like it. His mind was right. The nameless man groaned and stretched out of bed, it was early morning and allready scorching hot, he could feel the sweat forming on his body allready. He could not remember how long he had been, wherever it was he was, he could not remember anything. What he did during the day was enough encouragement to not try and remember further back, `perhaps this is a good life compared to whatever it was I had before` he thought to himself. He scratched his beard, he wasn't even sure if the beard suited him, whether he’d had it for days or years but still, it itched and was dealt with accordingly. No-one had yet banged on the hut he called a home yet, this was a good sign. He lived in a small shack of a hut, with a bed at the far side of it, there was barely enough room for him as he attempted to live in it, but it could be a palace compared to what he might have had before, he tried not to think about it. The nameless man lay back on his bed and pulled the covers over him, the darkness was as close as a friend he had in these parts, taking away the pains of reality. If he could not see anything, then he wasn't looking at anything hideous was his philosophy. Then came the thud at the door, the nameless man firmly shut his eyes and prayed that it was actually his imagination, mocking him, his prayers were in vain. Without hearing the door being opened, he felt the blanket be ripped from his grasp and he was pulled out of bed and pinned against the wall of his hut. The nameless man reluctantly opened his eyes and stared out at the creature he knew as Kreul. Kreul was a repugnant green ogre type creature, with two huge curved fangs sticking right out of his mouth. Whoever the nameless man was, he was fairly well built but Kreul was three times his size. Kreul growled in a language that the nameless man did not understand and the hauled up his huge fist and smashed it into the nameless man’s gut. The nameless man moaned in pain, a moan that was lost on Kreul, who dragged the nameless man outside. Outside the nameless man’s hut was a chain gang, eight men all handcuffed at the feet and hands, all linked together and Kreul dragged the nameless man toward them and bound up his feet and hands with the others. Kreul gave a signal to move on and the nine slaves unwillingly moved on, at a slow pace. Kreul saw how slow they were going and gave the command to stop, he then bent down and picked up some dust and one by one blew the dust in the eyes of all the nine men. The nameless man moaned as Kreul blew the dirt in his eyes and wanted to rub them desperately, but couldn't. Kreul was in a good mood today, on another day he would have threw something more deadly into the eyes of the slaves, the nameless man had seen Kreul blind several men, on a whim. There was one more to be added to the group before Kreul would have them get to work, mostly at menial tasks. Kreul and his people had them constructing some sort of building, the nameless man had no idea what for, but knowing Kreul and his people, it was not something of good nature. Kreul had the nine men stop at another hut while he went inside and collected another man. The nameless man saw who Kreul dragged out and smiled, for the first time in days. The man Kreul dragged out was one the slaves had come to name Malak. The nameless man held Malak in high regard. He was known for his constant disregard for the slavery that enraged Kreul and his alike. When the nameless man recalled why he was called Malak, he smiled once more, Malak was the word Kreul and his people used for `rebel`. The nameless man watched as Kreul dropped Malak onto the floor, to which Malak then stood up and dusted himself off carelessly and walked over to the chains casually and waited for them to lock him in, showing signs of disgust as they took their time. Kreul, angered at this, waited until Malak was locked in and punched Malak hard in the gut. Malak doubled over but let out no sound and Kreul responded by slamming his elbow hard into Malak’s back and he collapsed to the ground. The nameless man, without thinking, helped Malak to his feet and put his arm around him for support, the chains holding the nameless man only just about let him reach. Kreul looked at the nameless man and Malak with disgust and gave the signal to move on. The nameless man carried Malak as they shuffled forward, who was barely conscious, when Kreul was not looking the nameless man took out a small flask of water he had hidden away and poured some down Malak’s throat, Malak drank the water and smiled at the nameless man. Malak was the eldest of the slaves. Malak was bald and clean shaven, his eyes a deep green, his skin dark and smooth. He looked like a prince among men, with an air of greatness about him. Malak was grateful to the nameless man for the water and as he hid the water in his belt and covered it with his rag of a shirt he heard Malak speak. “I know of you” Malak said weakly “you are of a good spirit”. The nameless man made no attempt to respond and felt a shock at what he heard next. “I will help you escape this place, you are destined for greatness beyond all comprehension”
The nameless man kept to himself for the majority of that morning. Kreul had the slaves stop at the construction site and they were temporary released, to do Kreul’s bidding. The nameless man watched Malak for a while, he composed himself calmly, even when Kreul was clearly giving him pain. Thoughts of what Malak may have meant swirled around inside the nameless man’s head like a mental tornado. Escaping was not something the nameless man did not think of, he thought of it quite often, but there was no-where to go, all around was desert, in every direction to the horizon. The nameless man was so engrossed in his thoughts he did not feel the whips of Kreul initially, Kreul then began to smack them very hard against his back, just to entertain himself. The nameless man remembered looking in the mirror that morning, whoever he was he was no weak man, `could I overpower Kreul?` the nameless man kept asking himself. He recalled his first day, or as far back as he could remember, which was only four days ago. The nameless man had slept, it seemed, on the desert floor and there was nothing. Then he saw Kreul for the first time, and he felt pain shortly after. Kreul took the nameless man to the constriction site and he was forced to work, then the routine began. On the first day the other slaves took no interest in the nameless man, this changed on the second day, with Malak being the cause of this change. The nameless man did not know why they all suddenly gathered around him but he took a slight pleasure in it, it did not last. On the second day the other slaves taught the nameless man how to speak because for some strange reason he did not know how to properly, the nameless man knew most of the words for everything but not how to form sentences. The third day the nameless man knew the tediousness of heavy work under the extreme conditions, and Kreul’s unique way of dealing with people. The nameless man tried to forget everything and get back to work; he lifted a huge boulder out of the sand and carried it toward the deposit skip. As he went on his way he saw Kreul in the corner of his eye and prepared to register pain of some kind. Kreul stuck out his bulky left leg and tripped up the nameless man, who was forced to drop the boulder onto his foot. Usually he would have yelped in pain but as the boulder came down onto his foot he made eye contact with Malak and found the strength to hide his pain. Kreul was clearly confused at this and gave a look of clear bemusement to the other guards. The nameless man’s emotions turned from that of pain to one of fury. The nameless man got in the face of Kreul and gave him a threatening look. He was moments from attacking Kreul, which would have been veritable suicide, when Malak stepped in and took the nameless man away from Kreul. “Your emotions are strong, but no brute force will destroy Kreul and his people” Malak said, attempting to calm the nameless man down. “I will have my retribution” it had been a while since the nameless man spoke out loud, he briefly wondered if he had spoken correctly. Kreul approached Malak and the nameless man from behind and smashed them both to the ground with his huge gorilla like fist. The nameless man got up instantly and punched Kreul as hard as he could in the jaw, Kreul did not even flinch. The nameless man’s hand throbbed with pain, but it only fuelled his anger and he stood, toe to toe with Kreul, waiting for whatever repercussions there would be. The nameless man could feel Kreul’s repulsive breath on his face as they stood, staring each other down, for what seemed like an eternity. The deadlock was broken when the nameless man felt someone tap him on the back; he turned and faced a fist to the stomach, Malak’s. Kreul, angry, confused and outraged at the nameless man’s disobedience turned and walked away, plotting for his vengeance at the nameless man’s outburst. The nameless man went to throw a punch at Malak but Malak casually blocked it and put his hands on the nameless man’s shoulders. “Our time will come, now is not the time” and with that Malak got back to work. The nameless man stood for several seconds alone, lost in his thoughts; he then picked up the boulder and continued on his way. The afternoon flickered by like some distant memory, when it had finally gone the nameless man was not sure whether it had actually happened or not. After nineteen hours relentless work Kreul took the slaves back to their huts, but made the nameless man toil for another hour. When he finally got back to his hut he felt drained of everything he had, it took an inhuman amount of strength not to pass out there and then. The nameless man sat down on his small bed, took one gulp from his water flask and then fell into darkness. He awoke what felt like minutes later, having slept for a few hours however this time there was no Kreul in sight. The unmistakeable face of Malak was staring back at the nameless man as he forced his eyes open, a sight that startled the nameless man. “Now is the time, I have come to take you back to where you came from” Malak whispered, not wanting anyone but the nameless man to hear it. The nameless man groaned and pulled his blanket over him and then paused. “Why me? What will I do when I get back `home`?” The nameless man’s voice was louder than Malak would have liked “wherever `home` is. I don't even know my name”.
“The moment you leave this place your memory will return to you” Malak’s voice was at its soothing best. “And if you do not return to where you came, Kreul and his alike will rule the world”. The nameless man dragged himself out of his bed, he was intrigued to say the least. “Why do you not leave this place ?” the nameless man asked Malak.
“Because I have been sentenced to this prison for life, you have the right to leave” Malak could see that the nameless man was becoming more confused by the second “It will become clear once you are back where you belong” he said, ending the matter. “Where do we go?” the nameless man asked, changing the subject.
“No more talk, I do not want anyone to overhear us. Follow me and I will lead you out of here”. The nameless man nodded and followed Malak out of the hut door, they were not alone. Malak and the nameless man stood toe to toe with Kreul and two other guards. Kreul grunted an order at the two which was met with a look of concern from Malak. Malak then turned to the nameless man and spoke, his voice calm as ever “Be prepared to fight my friend, he just gave the order to kill”.
The door handle turned and Valandt opened it warily. The sight on the other side of the door was one of strange properties. Like a void, he could feel his emotions disappearing allready. Valandt walked through the door slowly and stepped into the room. The white curtain was being blown heavily out of its normal stationary position. Valandt walked into the room slowly, he had the axe in his hand and was clutching it tight. Valandt felt uneasy as he walked further toward the bed, on which Astral lay, unconscious. As he passed by the window he felt no breeze, yet the curtain was flowing with all the majesty of a leaf caught in a severe updraft, this made him even more uncomfortable. Valandt took off his sword belt and knelt by the bed, still grasping the axe with which he entered the room. Astral looked at peace, yet she was in more pain than Valandt could imagine. Valandt felt angry at her for what she had done. When she saved the life of the wizard Presto she endangered herself, and made him feel like he was losing a part of himself. `Taking those demons into your body was a foolish thing to do` Valandt thought to himself `foolish, but the most heroic thing anyone could have done`. The consequence of her sacrifice was a slow death, from which she could not escape. Valandt watched her intensely, his thoughts elsewhere but his gaze was locked on Astral and refused to move. Valandt sighed and ran his hand through his hair, he felt nothing and this bothered him greatly. Inside Valandt felt confused, all his emotions were mixing together to form one intense feeling, which he could not place. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. Valandt then breathed deeply and felt like a tear was going to fall from his eyes, but they stayed dry, slightly against Valandt’s will. In desperation he leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek. Valandt then he smiled slightly to himself, though it quickly faded. He sighed deeply and got to his feet, pushing on the axe for leverage. Valandt lifted the white, veil like curtain over his head and strolled onto the balcony. Valandt looked over the balcony and took in a deep breath. The air that day was perfect. The sun shone down at just the right intensity. Valandt felt wrapped in warmth as he stood on the stone balcony overlooking the scenery. Everything in the Valandt’s view was trying their best to look good for the new king; trees in the distance stood tall and proud, the grass swaying smoothly in the gentle breeze, Valandt smiled at how ironic everything was. “Make everything in my kingdom perfect apart from my life” said Valandt, talking to the heavens. He then laughed. Twirling the handle of the axe around and pacing the balcony, Valandt became engrossed in his thoughts. A noise from inside his head broke his concentration. He looked around to see if anyone had gone into the room without him knowing, but apart from the resting body of Astral it was empty. Valandt shook his head and amounted it to stress and regained his previous train of thought. The noise came again, it was some kind of whisper, Valandt could not hear what was being said to him, but he was clear that he could hear a voice. He stood looking at the stone floor of the balcony and heard the whisper a third time, this time Valandt could tell what was being said. “Congratulations” came the voice, a mocking whisper like hiss. Valandt looked up and saw Kaiazal on the bed, crouching over Astral. He ran into the room full of fury and grabbed Kaiazal by the neck and pinned him against the wall. “Get out” Valandt demanded. Kaiazal motioned to speak but Valandt refused to let him, squeezing his throat and slamming his body into the wall. Valandt then dropped Kaiazal to the floor and stood over him. “Well?” Valandt asked him sternly, keeping the axe in Kaiazal’s view at all times.
“I cannot come and wish you congratulations for becoming king?” Kaiazal’s tone was one of mockery, which enraged Valandt more. Valandt dived on top of Kaiazal and grabbed his black cloak at the top of his chest and smacked his body against the floor. “There is nothing you can do for me, get out of my life and leave my people alone” Valandt said, taking out his frustration on Kaiazal.
“Your people?” Kaiazal’s voice came from behind Valandt now. He stood upright and dusted himself off. “How very regal of you. Your people as you so delightfully put them, are dying, painfully” Kaiazal smiled with delight at the mention of pain.. “This is only the beginning. The real fun will soon commence”. Kaiazal strutted across the room and leaned over the bed once more, reaching out his scaly arm and fingers and moving Astral’s head. Valandt leapt at Kaiazal, angered that such a repulsive creature could even dream of touching such a beauty, but Kaiazal disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the bed. “As king of Legia I demand you leave now” Valandt was desperate to rid himself of Kaiazal, for now at least.
“Now now, I have yet to get to the point of my visit” Kaiazal said smoothly.
“Your visits have no purpose, only to enrage and disgust me”
“That is just the pleasant side effect” Kaiazal said slickly. “Like Gyraicus”.
“My father!” Valandt’s rage was clear. “How dare something as vile as you even mention his name”
Kaiazal seemed disinterested at Valandt’s growing aggression, which made it grow even more. “I will get vengeance for his death” Valandt said directly.
“Now that would be impressive” Kaiazal had a smug look on his face. “He is not dead”
“He isn't?!” Valandt’s eyes grew wide with interest.
“We have no need for him anymore” said Kaiazal whose apparent disinterest was growing “so I'm here to offer a trade”. Valandt was weary, but any hope of getting his father back alive was worth a risk.
“What do you want for him?” said Valandt desperately
“A life for a life would be sufficient” Kaiazal said calmly.
“You wish for me to kill myself ?” Valandt reluctantly asked, to which Kaiazal smiled.
“No, I don‘t that will be necessary.” Valandt immediately the put out his hand and Kaiazal shook it.
“We have a deal then” said Kaiazal and with that he disappeared into nothing. Valandt then sat on the end of the bed staring into the blade of the axe, smiling.