The Book of Athanasius

Chapter 5

"What's in a name?"

"Perhaps I should start with my name, yes? Someone once told me that it's rude if you don't introduce yourself first…Unfortunately, you're just going to have to bear with me being rude for now. My name has a story behind it I think needs telling for, unlike most beasts of the land, my name had to be EARNED instead of being given. So let's see…I was born during the last season of our 'glorious' Warlord Tyrus. Unnoticed and nameless I was one of many young ones who lived in the camps of Tyrus's army, doomed to become nothing more then a lowly soldier. Thankfully, I was spared that unwanted fate with Tyrus's death. I'm sure you're wondering what the death of a warlord has to do with the life of a simple rat child. Well, you see, it started with the duty of every dieing Warlord to select a successor with his last breath. And Warlord Tyrus had two sons to choose from, Dagrurt and Sunder."

Dark clouds blocked out the night sky over the vermin camp. Though thunder could be heard within their thick canopy, the clouds released neither rain nor lightning. They remained in the air as if waiting for something, a cause or reason to unleash their fury on the creatures below. Down in the camp torches provided the only light as stoats, rats, foxes, and various other beasts 'enlisted' into the Warlord's service moved about the tents.

A feeling of general disregard could be felt throughout the camp. It had been weeks since Tyrus had given any orders and the rumor of his imminent death had been slowly wearing away at the obedience of those who served him. The only ones still staying true to there duties were the two soldiers stationed outside Tyrus's own tent. They had also heard the rumors and figured that if a new warlord was going to emerge from the tent then the first sight he sees better be beasts doing their job.

The wind began to howl from outside the warlord's tent. It was the only noise to be heard as the beasts inside kept themselves in silence. Lying on a large oaken bed was Warlord Tyrus, the wildcat. He was once a fearsome beast to behold in his prime, but time had reduced him now to nothing more then the husk of an old grey cat shivering in the nighttime cold. By his bedside sat the servant rat, Wert. Wert served Tyrus since he was little and seeing his master in such a state made him worry if maybe his own life was going to come to an end. He gave nervous glances to Tyrus's two sons, Dagrurt and Sunder, who stood at the foot of the bed. Once Tyrus is gone the value of Wert's own life would be decided by one of them. He gave another nervous glance at the two wildcats.

The older brother Sunder was very large, even for a wildcat. Across his massive frame dark and matted fur would constantly be interrupted by scars both big and small. He would often be seen clad in armor or chain mail, but tonight he wore only simple clothes and a leather harness. Strapped to his back was all the protection he needed, a vicious looking mace whose size rivaled that of an adult rat.

Dagrurt, however, was the exact opposite of his brother. He was no more then half the size of Sunder and the lack of physical battle kept his body unmarked, slender, and well groomed. An elegant white tunic covered him and was tied tightly around his waste with a small scabbard carrying a single dagger. Even though he was rather tame compared to his brother, Dagrurt's intelligence and sinister tactics had given him the same level of fear among the vermin ranks. Side by side they painted a picture of night and day.

Dagrurt and Sunder waited patiently as their father slipped in and out of consciousness. Both brothers mentally salivated at the idea of being named warlord and felt there was no other beast more worthy of the title then themselves. They exchanged sorrowful glances back and forth, trying to convince the other that they were more concerned with losing their father then gaining all that is his.

Their game of deceit quickly ended as Tyrus stirred awake in his bed. Wert helped the old wildcat sit up to examine his two sons. Dagrurt and Sunder immediately stood at attention under their father's gaze. Tyrus looked from Dagrurt, to Sunder, and then back to Dagrurt again. To the surprise of the other beasts in the room he started to laugh, like he had just figured out some hysterical joke. It was not a particularly healthy laugh and it soon turned into a ragged cough. Wert tried to hold Tyrus still as he violently jerked with each cough. Dagrurt and Sunder remained at attention. They smiled to themselves, knowing that each cough brought them one step closer to their prize.

When Tyrus's fit had calmed his breathing became shallow. Wert picked up a napkin and began to wipe the blood from Tyrus's mouth. As the cloth touched his face Tyrus started to whisper, "I was given life…and this is what I give back? Hah…let some other beast end my burdens…I will go without regrets and Dagrurt will follow in my footsteps."

Wert backed away and looked to Dagrurt and Sunder to see if they had heard Tyrus's words. Wert knew of the rivalry between the two brothers and was terrified that a fight might brake out between them, but no such thing happened. Without showing a single hint of satisfaction Dagrurt took his place by his father's side. Sunder gave a salute to his father and calmly walked out of the tent. Wert gave a sigh of relief, and turned his attention back to Tyrus and his soon to be new master, Dagrurt.

Sunder's calm appearance quickly vanished the moment he left the tent. Storming his way through the camp he shouted at any creature that got too close. "My father is nothing more then an old fool!" he cursed, "To think I gave all my life for his glory only to have him spit back in my face. And my dear brother…Hah! He doesn't deserve to share the same blood as me! That spoiled kitten couldn't even kill a beast les its back was turned, so what could he possible know of leading an army into battle?"

Sunder kicked a nearby weapons rack, sending it crashing down on one of the tents. Beasts scattered left and right, desperately trying to avoid the large cat's attention. "My father must've been mad to choose Dagrurt over me. Am I not everything a Warlord should be? I have crushed every foe who has dared oppose me or my father. My strength has been unchallenged since birth! Am I not a fearsome warrior? Am I not a beast deserving of greatness?"

He stopped. Looking around he realized his oration no longer had an audience. Sunder screamed in rage. Grabbing his mace from off his back he desperately searched for something to take his anger out on. The sound of footsteps caught his ear. From between the tents ran a rat mother with her son being led by his hand. "You there! Stop!" commanded Sunder.

The rat froze. Turning in the direction of Sunder she moved her child protectively behind her. Now that he had captive listener Sunder's rage dissipated. Slowly walking up to the rat, he continued his speech in a dangerously silky tone. "Tell me my dear," he said, "Am I not the most fear inspiring creature you have set your worthless eyes on? Have not the stories of my village massacres shown I am without mercy?"

He leaned down, his face mere inches away from hers. "Tell me…am I not ruthless?"

The rat stood silenced by her fear. Her hands gripped tighter to the child. Sunder brought his head back up and gave a laugh. "Hah! I suppose you wouldn't really be able give me an answer, would you? After all, we probably have never met before and stories never really do justice to the real thing."

Giving a smile Sunder took his mace into both his hands and swung it at the rat. The mother managed to push her son to the ground as it struck her side. There was a loud crunch. The force of Sunder's mace tossed her body several feet away, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. Sunder strolled over to where she landed. Admiring his handiwork, he looked over the unmoving and now bloodied form at his feet. "So now you can tell me rat, am I not ruthless?"

From behind him came the familiar sound of steel being drawn. He turned with a grin on his face to see who was foolish enough to take him on. Sunder had faced all types of challengers and foes, but what he now faced surprised even him. Several feet away stood the child of the now dead rat mother, a small sword held tightly in both his hands. Sunder burst into laughter at the sight of this would be killer. "Boy, you better put that down before you hurt yourself. I'm no longer in the mood to kill anything else here tonight. Your mother here was just the stress reliever I needed. You should be happy. She finally got to do something meaningful with her life."

The child still stood holding the sword. Sunder began to notice that there was something different about this rat. He wore the same tattered clothes most of the young ones wear but that's where the similarities ended. Beneath the clothes was the darkest fur Sunder had ever seen. Parts that weren't illuminated by the torches seemed to blend in with the night. The child also presented some measure of strength. He showed no strain from the heavy steel in his hands. Sunder was impressed by this, but it was the rat's eyes that drew the most attention. They were a bright gold and had a look of complete and utter defiance shining within them. The child's stare burrowed deep into the wildcat, breaking away his ego and bravado. For the first time in his life Sunder doubted his own strength. Sunder's rage erupted once again. Giving a hiss he readied his mace. "So be it! If death is what you wish then I will gladly reunite you with your whore of a mother!"

Sunder rushed towards young rat, his weapon raised high to strike. The rat remained still, merely narrowing his eyes at the rabid wildcat. He quickly dove towards Sunder as the mace was brought crashing down. Tucking into a roll he came up kneeling with his back facing the wildcat's own. With all his strength the young rat drove the sword straight into the middle of Sunder's back. Sunder's body arched backwards and went rigid, an unintelligible gurgle escaping his lips. He looked as though he was stuck in this position, neither falling nor making any attempt to pull the blade from his spine. Eventually, what will Sunder had to keep death at bay faded. His body collapsed to the ground.

The young rat stood up and starred at Sunder's unmoving corpse. A permanent expression of shock and pain was frozen on the wildcat's face. It took a couple pulls, but he managed to free the sword from Sunder's back.

From deep within the camp there came a shout, which was soon picked up and repeated by others. "Warlord Tyrus is dead! Long live Warlord Dagrurt! Long live Warlord Dagrurt!"

The shout continued, growing louder with each reiteration. It wasn't long before it reached the young rat. He was still standing over Sunder's body, bloodied sword in hand. Gasps were heard from behind him. Turning he saw what the shouting was all about. There, donned in an impressive black silk outfit that belonged to his late father, stood Dagrurt. There were a large number of beasts behind him. They all had the same look of disbelief on their faces as they viewed the horrible scene in front of them.

Out of the crowd stumbled Wert, who rushed over to check the body of Sunder. There was no need to check for life but Wert went through the motions anyway. Hesitantly he turned to Dagrurt. "I'm sorry m'lord," he said, "But yer brother is dead."

Dagrurt didn't seem to care about the loss of his brother. Instead, he was more concerned with his brother's killer. Dagrurt examined the child, taking in everything from the way he stood to the look in his eyes. Wert, unsure of whether Dagrurt had heard him or not, repeated the bad news. Dagrurt acknowledged him and, giving a sigh, he looked back down and spoke to the young rat. "Well child…I really would like to thank you for doing something I should've done a long time ago, but the laws of my family say that I now have to avenge by brother's death by killing you. I'm really sorry about this."

The crowd backed away as Dagrurt drew his dagger and the young rat readied the sword in his hands. Dagrurt was much faster then his brother. He cleared the gap between himself and the rat almost instantly. Surprised by his speed, the young rat was barely able to duck under Dagrurt's attack. Remembering the motions of his last battle he dove to Dagrurt's side. He came up kneeling once again and drove the sword behind him. Instead of the soft whisper of steel piercing flesh there was a loud clang. Dagrurt had followed the young rat's roll and parried his thrust. The impact of parry caused the young rat's grip on the sword to loosen. Dagrurt took advantage of this and, with another swing, knocked the sword from the young rat's hands. Grabbing him by the neck Dagrurt lifted the child up and placed the point of the dagger to the young rat's stomach. "You have lost," said Dagrurt, "And in losing, how you die is now entirely of my choosing. So…shall I cut open your belly letting your guts spill out? Or maybe I'll slice your throat and watch you desperately try to hold on to the life you've so recently been introduced with."

Dagrurt paused, letting the images slip into the child's mind "Either way, every second you still live is because of me and no one else…Do you understand?"

Dagrurt's tightened his grip around the child's throat. Choking, the young rat managed a nod. Dagrurt then let go of his neck. "Good! Cause I have no desire to spare a beast if it isn't grateful for it."

Wert was very confused. "Um…But m'lord," he said, "Yor family's law, the law of yor father, says you must kill this child!"

Dagrurt looked back to Wert. "Don't think I haven't forgotten. He will die, eventually. In some way his life will come to an end, just not here. See that he gets cleaned up and well fed, Wert."

Wert looked to the child. Still confused he tried to find some answers without bringing about his master's anger. "Yes, of course m'lord…but…yor other servants might be confused by this incredible show of mercy. Wot should I tell em if they ask why?"

Dagrurt put his hand on Wert's shoulder. Wert gave a small shiver as the wildcat whispered in his ear. "Well, they shouldn't have to ask since they need no reason to carry out my orders. But, since I'm in such a good mood I'll tell you. My brother, as much of a fool as he was, was still the strongest beast in my father's army. He was hardly a pushover yet this child managed to kill him in a single blow, one that could've done me in as well. This child is a resource I will not let go to waste. He will join my son to train with Vain and, should he survive the next few seasons, he will be a most useful beast to have at my side."

Wert understood and went over to young rat. "You have no idea of the opportunity our lord Dagrurt is giving you. My name is Wert and I will be in charge of yor care for the next few days. What is yor name rat?"

The child gave no answer. After several moments of silence Wert realized no response was coming. "Well? Come out with it! You do have a name don't you?"

The young rat shook his head. Wert shouted back to his master, who was prodding his brother's body with his dagger. "M'lord! This child has no name!"

Dagrurt gave an honestly surprised look. Walking over he gave a small chuckle. "Heh heh, Well that's no good. How's the story of my brother's death supposed to spread if there's no name for his slayer?"

Dagrurt kneeled down in front of the young rat. He starred deeply into its eyes, his mind searching for something. After awhile he found what he was looking for. "Athanasius," he said, "That is the name I give to you…and maybe someday you'll be able to live up to it."

There was a loud thunderclap from overhead. The clouds had grown tired of their mercy and began to unleash a fearsome downpour onto the camp. The crowd dispersed as they went to find cover from the rain. Wert took the child by his hand and started to follow Dagrurt back to the warlord's tent. The young rat managed a backwards glance. The bodies of Sunder and his mother were still lying on the ground. No one attempted to remove their corpses, or even seemed to care. They remained on the ground as the rain washed away what color they had. Slowly the two bodies vanished, lost in a grayish curtain of water.

"It was rather strange. Death had been given such a large reputation for being something greater then ourselves. A family will forever mourn the loss of one of its own. A fighter will gather insurmountable courage and skill to end the life of its foe. A beast will bring about its own death to prevent the death of a loved one. Yet… the death I saw that night was neither an impossible feat, nor an unbearable loss. To me, the warrior's tales were a lie. Death is such a far simpler thing. A flick of the wrist or the thrust of your arms and some beast's life is over. I ask you, could there be anything easier?

That night I was given my name and a life's worth of knowledge. The name was Athanasius, and the knowledge was in the dealing of death."