Chapter Two: Crimson Tears
I am still unsure of why the gods chose my village. Perhaps the gods had nothing to do with it. Perhaps it truly was just a random act of violence. Whatever the reason, I wondered if I still would have followed the same path had things gone differently. Probably. After all, my entire life has been bound to destiny.
I was ten years old at this point. I had learned to find my way around well enough that I no longer needed to cling to Annabelle's shoulder, but it was still comforting to have her near my side when wandering outside the safe confines of my home. My old wooden staff was no longer a mere walking stick, but an extension of myself. It became as much a part of me as my arms or legs were a part of me. By weaving it back and forth across my path, I could tell if we were walking on a dirt or paved road, if it was uneven, slippery, on an incline, or any number of conditions.
Despite my inability to read or write, I quickly rose to the top of the class and was able to recite long epics and ballads perfectly without stumbling over any words. I was eager to learn, even outside of class, and poor Annabelle was forced to match her level of reading to mine so that she could read books to me from the teacher's personal library. My favorite subjects were history and geography. I was fascinated by all the great heroes and cities that existed so far away from my own tiny village. How I wish I could escape this miserable town and experience all the exotic locales that the world had to offer.
"Sairaag sounds just simply romantic," Annabelle sighed with longing as she read a passage out of the book. "An entire city held within the clutches of the great Spirit Beast Zanafer. A single hero from a long line of Holy Knights, wielding the legendary Sword of Light, charges into battle and slays the wicked beast and purifies the town of its foul miasma by planting a mighty tree within the center of the city. I'd love to go there and meet one of his descendants. I bet he'd be terribly handsome."
"Ah, the fair princess wishes to be swept off her feet by a knight in shining armor atop his noble steed," A huge grin spread across my face. "That certainly sounds like a match made in heaven."
"Oh, stop!" She sounded embarrassed. "You know that would never happen. Besides, he'd probably take one look at me and run screaming for the hills."
"A knight would never do that to his princess. He would travel to the ends of the earth to find the wicked sorcerer who stole your beauty and beat him to a bloody pulp until the curse was lifted."
I smiled as Annabelle giggled, "You always have to romanticize everything."
"It makes it sound better."
We burst out into peals of laughter. I quickly stopped. Something was nagging at the back of my mind.
"What's wrong?" Annabelle placed her hand over my own.
"Something bad is going to happen..." I remained absolutely still, trying to listen to the wind rustling within the leaves. There was a faint smell on the wind, warm and stinging, like something was burning.
"There's black smoke rising from the east side of town!" Annabelle quickly stood as I pulled myself to my feet. "Something's on fire!"
Even as she spoke, I could hear someone scream followed by the shriek of a horse. The earth was trembling beneath my feet and the wind was growing hotter by the minute.
Clamoring footsteps and labored breathing met my ears as someone cried out, "It's the Black Dragon Fangs! Run! Get out of here before they kill you all!"
"Rezo, we've gotta find a place to hide!" Annabelle grabbed my hand as several people rushed by, screaming and wild with terror. I could hear the sound of pounding hooves against the ground not far behind us and the whine of steel sliding against steel.
"We'll never outrun horses, we've gotta hide in the forest," Annabelle yanked harder on my arm and veered sharply from the path. The fire was spreading rapidly; the smoke blotted out the sun and the wind felt like steam on my neck. The smell of burning thatch stung my nostrils and I covered my nose with one hand to keep from gagging.
The sound of agonized screaming rang within my skull as both men and women were cut down by the bandit's cruel swords. I slammed into Annabelle as she suddenly stopped. The sound of a horse snorting and stamping the ground before us caused me to tighten my grip on her hand.
"Where do you think you're going, little girl?" A deep and calloused voice questioned from the direction of the horse.
"Please, spare us!" Annabelle backed into me as we shied away from the bandit. "We've done nothing wrong!"
"Shut-up, you ugly wench!" I heard the screech of steel sliding against steel. He was drawing a sword from its sheath. "Give me your valuables, and I might let you live."
"We're only poor farmers, we have no gold..." Annabelle was cut off by an angry growl.
"Then die!" The horse shrieked in bloodlust as the bandit roared with fury.
"Run, Rezo!" Annabelle shoved me back, and I heard her scream as the sword cut into her and her warm blood sprayed upon my face. Hot tears were rolling down my cheeks, along with her blood as I turned and stumbled my way through the wreckage of the village, the sound of hooves pounding close behind me.
My foot caught on a jutting piece of wood and I fell face first into the dirt path. Hooves were stomping close behind me. Rolling on my back, I held my staff in a feeble attempt to ward off his blows. I knew that I was going to die in just a moment. I could hear his roaring voice, his sword would be poised above his head, ready to strike...
The air was filled with a tingling sensation, as if the very air itself was trembling with power. A familiar voice called out, "Flare Arrow!" which was followed by a gargled shriek from the bandit. A loud thud followed by the horse's panicked retreat meant that the bandit had fallen while his horse fled.
"Take my hand, Rezo," I heard the same familiar voice that had cast the spell. It was Karma, the Red Priest. "Hurry, or you're dead!"
"But what about everyone else?" I began to sob anew, but he snatched my hand and began dragging me along.
"Everyone else is already dead," he said as his hand tightened around my own. "The only reason I survived the initial attack was because I was in the forest picking herbs when the bandits rushed into town."
"But we have to do something!" I struggled against his arm and my reward was a sharp slap against my right cheek. I recoiled in fear and revulsion at what he, of all people, had done to me.
"There are too many and my powers are not strong enough to defeat them all," his gravely voice was hard with resignation. "If you want to live, we must flee. Revenge will have to wait."
I nodded gravely, my cheek still smarting from his blow and began to run after him. I was keenly aware of a new smell in the air. I had never experienced it before, but I knew exactly what it was. It was so sweet and sickening at the same time, that I wanted to vomit as soon as it reached my nostrils. I will never forget it: the smell of burning flesh.
Even though we were miles away from the village by the time we stopped to rest, I could not help feeling we were still too close to danger. I continued to weep for my friends and family that had passed on while I sat upon the dewy grass. We must have been in a glade deep in the forest; the sounds of birds twittering and insects buzzing was a constant accompaniment to the rustling of the wind in the trees and the gurgling of a nearby stream.
The Red Priest had not spoken to me since we fled the destruction of my home, but I felt that was because he knew that his words could not comfort me. I heard a soft splashing nearby: he must be washing his face in the river. I could only imagine what my own face must look like and decided it would be best to wash away the soot and tears: hated reminders of my tragedy.
Padding toward the direction of the stream, I kneeled down and began splashing my face with the icy mountain water. I no longer felt the need to cry after the refreshing shock of the cold water revived me from my mourning. As I was cleansing myself, I was keenly aware of the stillness and the silence of the man next to me. Perhaps he was staring intently at me, like that time so long ago when he tried to cure my blindness and recoiled from me in fear.
I ceased my washing and turned to face him with grim resolve, "What now, Wise One?"
"That depends entirely upon what you want to do," he replied in that solemn gravely voice.
A small gasp escaped me. That was the last thing I expected him to say.
"I want to make them pay," I stared at my lap where my hands were balled into tight fists. "I want to punish them for their evil ways. I want to protect people. I want to give guidance to those who are lost, and heal those who are sick, and bring happiness to everyone." I raised my face one more to look in the Red Priest's direction. "I want to become a priest."
"Is that what you truly want?" His voice was gentle, yet it still retained that solemn tone. "Then that is what you should do."
"Don't mock me!" I forced myself to hold back the angry tears stinging my eyes. "You know I can't do any of that! I'm blind; how am I supposed to defend myself or others if I can't see what I'm fighting? I'm too weak to help anyone."
I turned my face away, too ashamed to let him see the tears leaking from my sealed eyes, despite my best efforts to hold them back. A lump had formed in my throat, preventing me from saying anything more. Suddenly, strong arms embraced me and drew me closer toward the old man's ancient frame. I buried my face into his silken robes and was overcome by racking sobs. I cried for a long time. I cried until my eyes were dry and my heart was cleansed of all my sorrow. And still I clung to him, my only support and source of guidance in this cruel and dark world.
I felt his gnarled hand stroking my hair as he spoke softly, "Rezo. You have a sincere desire to help others, and that is all that is required for you to become a priest. As for your blindness, that can be overcome. If you will become my acolyte, and serve me and the temple, I can teach you to fight without sight."
"How?" I raised my face toward his own, a tiny flicker of hope burning within my heart.
"You must learn to listen and to feel with your heart," the Red Priest said. "Everything has a spirit and a voice. You must learn to listen to the wind and feel the trembling of the earth beneath your feet. A man may become completely silent, but he cannot mask the rush of breath into his lungs. I will teach you to use all of your senses and to develop new ones to aid you in determining your surroundings. Your blindness will no longer become a burden, but a blessing, for you will be able to see what others cannot."
You are able to see what others cannot. Those were the same words Annabelle spoke so long ago. Perhaps it was my destiny to become a priest, and yet...
"You seem troubled. Do you doubt your abilities?" Karma asked.
"Will I..." I hesitated, thinking perhaps that my words were blasphemous, but I continued. "If I become a great priest, will the gods grant me the power to cure my eyes?"
There was a long and heavy silence before the Red Priest finally replied, "That depends... But there is a good chance that you might."
A chance was better than nothing, and I was taking a great risk at undertaking such a heavy burden, but my mind was made up. I would become a priest, no matter what, and I would become worthy enough to regain my eyesight.
We traveled many miles until we reached the temple of the Dragon God, Sweefede, creator of all worlds. It was here that I would begin the long and arduous journey to become a great and powerful priest. At first, I was assigned various menial tasks so that I would learn my way around the temple and its inhabitants. Most of my work consisted of kitchen duties and delivering messages, but eventually I worked my way up to assisting the priests in their daily rituals and blessings by carrying their various scrolls and talismans, all the while learning the basic disciplines that would assist me in my training.
Master Karma read the holy scriptures and doctrines of our order, and I was expected to memorize and recite all the precepts at a moments notice. I was pleased that he was quite impressed with my recitations and he soon discovered that I was a quick learner. He began to teach me to become aware of my surroundings by listening to the voices of the spirits all around us.
"The wind," Master Karma said. "Carries on it the voices of all who speak. If you listen closely, it can tell you of events happening miles away. Even the birds and beasts, which most believe are unable to speak, will give up many secrets if only you learn to understand their language."
So I learned to divine answers from the wind and to understand the language of birds and beasts. By attuning myself to the rhythms of the earth, I could determine if someone was walking toward me, even though they believed they had remained absolutely silent. My hearing had become so acute that every breath, every rustle of a leaf, the swish of fabric as a person moved, even their footsteps upon the sand could not escape my notice.
Even more important was my ability to feel their life-force, their very souls. By concentrating carefully, I could actually feel the heat of a person's body radiating toward me and the aura of their spirit energy surrounding their body. Once I had achieved this total awareness of my surroundings, I could walk confidently, even without my staff, and never have fear of stumbling or becoming lost. Truly, I had gained freedom at last.
Now, my real training would begin.
Three years had passed since my arrival at the temple and my first steps into adolescence was already apparent. I was much taller than many of the acolytes my age, as tall as some of the priests even, but I was quite gangly and had to spend many long hours tailoring my robes so that my wrists and ankles would not remain bare. Sadly, my first robes were an embarrassment to the priesthood, so some of the female acolytes were kind enough to sew them for me.
"Now, it is time you began to learn the basic orisons that will prepare you for true spell casting," Master Karma said as we sat together in the vast library. The smell of ink and dust was overwhelming, as was the silence and the vastness of the cavernous space. Carved of cold granite with ceilings that soared over one hundred feet, it was the largest room of the entire temple.
"What are orisons?" I asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"Simple spells that have useful effects, but are weak and not meant for battle," he replied as he slowly turned a page in the musty tome before him. There was a faint smell of mold emanating from the ancient tome. "They can be used to make life easier for a priest. Cleaning soiled robes, calling a book to you from across the room, lighting a candle; orisons can perform many helpful tasks. Once you can master these spells, then you will be ready for the true spells which will aid you in battle and to bestow blessings upon others."
"How does magic work? How does one go about casting a spell? Can anyone learn?" My mind was filled with too many questions that I could not voice them all. Magic had always been a fascinating and mysterious power that I never quite understood. I knew magic was quite commonplace, but since there were hardly any spell casters in my villager, it was always an awing experience when magic was performed.
The Red Priest chuckled at my eagerness, and I blushed at my sudden outburst.
"Magic is a complex and powerful force that should never be taken lightly, even among supposed 'masters' of the art," he explained. "Technically, anyone can learn magic, all one would need is proper instruction, dedication, and discipline, but because of the nature of magic only those with inborn talent may truly master it.
"Magic is a combination of energy within a person and the energy summoned from a powerful outside force working in unison to create a desired effect," he continued. "If a person does not have powerful enough inner energy, they cannot summon these outside forces, and therefore cannot cast spells."
"What do you mean by 'outside forces'?" I asked while leaning on my elbows, enthralled by my master's story.
"All magic is powered by the energy granted to the caster by various spirits or deities," Master Karma said. "Depending on what magic you are dedicated to, you will call upon different deities to grant you power. Shamanism magic calls upon the power of Mother Earth and nature spirits, even delving into the Astral Plane. White magic is powered by the God of Light, Sweefede, and the positive emotions of courage, kindness, and love. But the most powerful and dangerous of all is black magic," his voice took on an icy tone, "Black magic is the providence of the dark god, Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo, and relies on the negative emotions of fear, anger and hatred to power his spells."
"Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo...?" I had never heard that name in my life, but I had the strange feeling that I had known it all along and that I was only just remembering it. A dull ache was forming behind my eyes, and I began to rub at them with the tips of my fingers to relieve the pain.
"Is something wrong?" The Red Priest asked with warm concern, but I detected a hint of nervousness in his voice.
"No," I answered a bit too quickly and shook my head to clear it. "I'm fine. Please, continue."
"Perhaps we should go outside and take a break from studying for a while," he said while closing the book in front of him. "I need to stretch my legs. You know how we old men get stiff in the knees." He chuckled while I assisted him in extricating himself from his chair and we made our way outside.
The summer air was thick with heat, but luckily a cool breeze was blowing and caused my robes to billow out slightly. We walked slowly down the garden path, each of us carrying a staff in our right hand: one for support and one out of habit. I no longer needed it to walk, but it was comforting to have something to hold onto in the darkness.
It was many long moments before I broke the silence with my soft question.
"Master," I asked. "What does 'red' look like?"
"What?" Karma actually stopped dead in his tracks he was so surprised at my sudden question.
"I was wondering because you are the Red Priest, and I was always curious what color your robes looked like," I answered. It was something that had always bothered me. I was fascinated with the title 'Red Priest' and yet I had no idea what red looked like.
"Well," I could hear him scratching the rough skin of his cheek in thought. "How can I describe this to you?" He hummed a little as he was apparently looking for a way to explain a color to someone who could not see colors. "You are blind only because your eyes are sealed close, but that does not mean they don't work... I know. Turn your head toward the sun."
"All right..." I said slowly, wondering how that was supposed to help explain anything.
"That color you see on the back of your eyelids when you stare at the sun with your eyes closed," he paused for a moment, allowing me to let it sink in. "That is what red looks like. The color of a rose petal, the color of blood, the color of rubies..."
"Red..." I breathed in awe as I beheld the color on the back of my eyelids. "So that is what it looks like..." Once again, I felt that dull ache right behind my eyes, but I dismissed it as the strain of staring at the sun too long. Turning my head, I rubbed at my eyes as a morbid thought entered my mind. All I can see is black and red... The colors of darkness and blood...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wow! Little Rezo is growing up so fast! Before long, he'll soon be as powerful as the Red Priest himself! What's gonna happen next? Read and review, onegai!