Unnamed Ship
Rourke sat in the galley, cutting his eyes back and forth between his map and the ship's star chart. He did not understand, the ship was making a very wide berth around… something but the man could find no records of what or why. This was strange, although he felt he should be used to these occurrences as most things in this land were. The holy knight sighed, he had gotten little sleep on this voyage so far and it seemed as if he would continue this trend for some time to come. Rourke set his pen on the table, and massaged his temples. His headache was interrupted by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. He turned to his companion walking proudly into the room with two fish in each hand.
"So," Lucatiel began as she gathered the necessary tools to begin cooking "how long will we be out here?"
"Two weeks," the paladin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Maybe longer."
The woman stopped for a moment, absorbing the information. She continued to dress their meals, before joking about how they will need more fish.
"Also that gives you plenty of time to live up to your promise," she added, never turning away from her task at hand.
"Promise?" he questioned, walking over to the wood stove.
Rourke took some tinder, and laid it beneath a few small logs. He searched briefly for some matches, finding a small box nearby. After setting the flame, the paladin made his way over to the knightess, who was just finishing the preparations. She turned to the stove, and placed the fish on the grating above the flames. The paladin, still confused about his promise, opened his mouth to ask but closed it again when he remembered his 'promise' to teach her to read again. The man simply walked to the table he had previously been sitting, retrieved a pen, a few pieces of parchment, and also brought over his satchel. Lucatiel joined him at the table, pleased to see her friend had not forgotten.
"Alright," she started, "What's first?"
Rourke took the pen in his hand, carefully drawing a few symbols into the surface. Lucatiel watched intently, not wanting to miss a single detail.
"First, we will start with letters," the man glanced up at the woman sitting across from him. "Then we will proceed to words, sentences, and finally…"
Lucatiel looked up as he paused, curious as to why he stopped. Her companion was reaching into his bag, searching for something. After a few seconds he produced a book, the same one he had showed her in the caves. Rourke offered the book to her, she took hold of it with great care, not wanting to harm it. This book, this was her key, her purpose. She would strive to read it, and as she walked toward her goal, she would slowly force the curse from her being. She was told long ago, if an undead had a purpose, a reason to live, then their humanity would not fade as quickly as those who had no hope left.
"We will end with this." Rourke finished with a grin.
"Please, tell me, what is this?" Lucatiel asked trying to decipher the golden text on the front cover.
"The answer to all your questions," the paladin said "and the source of all my power."
Lucatiel's eyes darted up to meet those of her friend. She did not understand, why would he willingly give this to her? The puzzled look on her face did not go unnoticed as the corners of his lips eased upward. His gesture explained far more than words could. He trusted her. He knew of her fears, and he is handing her the key to escaping them. He has given her a purpose. She couldn't wait to begin.
Ten days later
Rourke was merciless! His methods produced results quickly, but never in her life did Lucatiel think learning to read would be so exhausting. After their lessons she felt as if she had ran from the western border of her homeland and did not stop until she reached the guards of the east. Her hand ached and her mind felt numb, if it still resided in her skull at all. She dropped the pen, and massaged her fingers in an attempt to soothe their incessant screams of pain. Her ears twitched slightly when she heard footsteps on their way to the galley. She quickly retrieved the pen and resumed her work. She didn't want to remember the agony of the first (and last) time Rourke had caught her shirking her studies. The paladin walked through the door behind the knightess, carrying the day's catch.
"Take a break, Lucatiel," he said, beginning to dress their next meal.
"Thank the Heavens," she sighed in relief, lowering her head.
Lucatiel rose from her seat, slowly working the cramps out her legs. She massaged her hands again. 'Ten days, how in the world?' she thought. Rourke washed his hands in a bucket not far from where he stood. The knight turned to his companion, who looked exhausted to say the least. He brushed some of the hair out of her face, placing it behind her ear.
"What did we learn today?" he asked returning to the fish.
"You're a sadist…" she responded weakly, with half a grin.
"Took you this long to figure that out?" He laughed.
After he finished dressing the fish, the holy knight walked over to the table where the Mirran had been working. His eyes carefully examined the pages his comrade wrote on. The knightess immediately felt the urge to run, although she did not know where, the last time her work was studied so closely she was punished for not taking the matter seriously. Something she did not want to happen ever again. The woman almost flinched as her friend turned to face her.
"I'm proud of you, I've never seen anyone progress this quickly" A callous hand rested on Lucatiel's shoulder.
The knightess stood still not knowing how to respond, had she really completed Rourke's teachings? She opened her mouth to speak but no words came to her.
"Yes, you are done…for now"
"So I may, now read your book?"
"Of course" A wide grin plastered on the man's face.
The paladin retrieved the object from his satchel and handed it to his student. The woman felt as if she were a child again, receiving a gift from her father. The knightess calmed herself and took a seat.
'The first book of Moses,' she read aloud. 'Commonly called Genesis.'
'In the beginning God created the Heaven and the Earth,' Rourke quoted.
The Mirran looked into her companions eyes, she couldn't believe it… she can read again! Her chest felt tight, and her mind felt free. A powerful emotion washed over the undead woman… Hope. An emotion she thought to have abandoned her long ago. 'This curse shan't take hold of me, not yet,' she thought with pride.
Majula
With their Sea-faring behind them the two found themselves in a dark, strange, dungeon-like area. After discussing their situation they decided to return to this location later. The knights found a bonfire and use its transportation magic to travel to Majula, the village Rourke now called home. Upon their arrival, the paladin removed his satchel and Claymore, resting both softly on the ground. A small woman, the Emerald Herald, approached him her hands clasped together behind her thin frame.
"Bearer of the Curse, how fares your journey?"
"Rather well, given the circumstances, I've even found a companion" the knight gestured to his friend, who has found a seat beside the bonfire they recently emerged from, her face hidden behind the pages of the book in her hands.
"I see,"
"She hasn't put it down since I gave it to her," a short laugh emerged from his throat.
"From what I hear, you have also found new company for Majula,"
"Have I?"
The woman pointed toward the cliff, Rourke followed her finger to see an old man sitting, quietly as if in a trance.
"Would you look at that, the old prick made it" he said.
With a chuckle, the woman turned away, to return to the stone she sat on. The knight truly had no idea how she kept herself occupied, not many things happen in Majula.
"Herald," he called after her.
"Yes?"
"Why do you put so much of your faith in me?"
"Aside from the fact there is no other, I know you Connor, whether you like it or not this is who you are, and this is who you will always be"
The paladin let out a long sigh, unhappy with the answer. He walked close to the woman and looked out over the sea. Images of his past filled his mind, the people he left behind, the happiness he once had. He fought to keep a stoic expression on his face, but did not win this battle as a tear crept down his cheek.
"Can I never escape this? Can I never live in peace or be happy?"
"Does your God not say He has a purpose for everyone?"
"He does…"
"Then why would He betray you? Give you a purpose you could not meet?"
"He wouldn't…"
"If I may speak frankly Connor, your faith in your Lord baffles me,"
"How so?"
"Even with all this death, sorrow, famine, and plague, never once have I seen you lose hope in your Lord, perhaps you are the warrior this world needs"
"I don't see how I'm different"
"You are different because you believe that one day you will truly help these undead, you do not fight for petty things such as glory or honor or souls. You fight because this was a task given to you by the God of your faith, and even in knowing that it may not be the faith of others, you carry on for them"
The holy knight smiled, feeling somewhat reassured by the Emerald Herald's words.
'Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying "Whom shall I send? And who will go for Us?" And I said "Here am I. Send Me." ' Rourke took in a slow breath then turned toward the bonfire. "The Book of Isaiah; Chapter Six"
"That is beautiful,"
"Thank you, Herald; I think I will rest now"
The knight walked to the bonfire, where his companion still sat. The Herald truly felt sorry for the old paladin, though she could never understand the pain he has went through.
Lucatiel buried herself in her reading, more so than she initially believed she would, but as she progressed farther into its pages she began to slow in her binges. She wanted to pace herself so she did not finish the book too soon. As she reached a stopping point, placed a feather between the pages to mark her spot. The knightess turned her attention to the man sitting a few feet from her.
"Is something wrong, Rourke?" She asked moving closer to her companion.
"No, I'm just having difficulty with my undeath," he replied as he placed their Estus Flask into the flames of the bonfire so that it may replenish itself.
"As do we all, my friend…"
"I know; I simply grow tired of this half living, I've been around quite a while,"
"How long is 'a while'?"
"I… don't remember," he said with a smile.
"Then it must be some time indeed!" she chuckled.
The pair grew silent for a moment, although the overall mood did begin to lighten. The paladin soon removed his armor, in an attempt to get more comfortable, not to mention the suit was in much need of repair. The Mirran did the same, both took their apparel to Lenigrast and bartered for the required services. As they left the shop, Rourke mentioned the house at the center of town, saying he had occupied it and that Lucatiel is more than welcome to stay there.
"Would you not want to sleep there yourself?"
"You had the last night shift on the boat, remember? You deserve the rest"
"I'm not tired, but if you're going to stay awake, perhaps you may tell me something?"
The two returned to the bonfire, each taking a seat with in its warmth. The knightess shifted for a moment trying to collect her thoughts. The paladin waited patiently, wondering what his companion want him to say.
"What do you remember? Of your time before you cursed?"
"More than I'd like to," he said after a short pause.
Lucatiel was shocked by his answer, most of the undead she had met wished they could recall their time as a human.
"Why?"
"I've left many people behind, people I cared for more than life itself, now here I am stuck with life and none of the reasons I wanted to live" A solemn look covered the cursed man's face
"I understand your pain."
"I don't care to remember times from when I was human, or when I was a younger undead,"
"What a horrible curse we bear…" she said quietly, the woman pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She wasn't cold, but a chill ran up her spine as she thought of her family.
"I believe that is why I am called The Bearer of the Curse," the man let out a dry laugh.
"Tell me your tale,"
The paladin's head snapped up, he surprised by her statement, although it sounded more like a demand.
"What for?"
"I told you my past, do I not deserve to hear yours?"
"You told me the name of your homeland, that's hardly 'your past',"
"There's nothing else to tell, I was a soldier, now I'm an undead, I would rather hear about your adventures,"
"And I would rather hear your adventures as a soldier, you must've had a family, some suiters, or some great victories you'd enjoy to recall,"
Lucatiel pursed her lips, she imagined this conversation going much simpler. The holy knight rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, understanding his friend's frustration. The man looked up, into the eyes of his comrade.
"No…"
"I only wish to-"
Before she could finish the knight across from her rose to his feet, retrieved his sword and walked away from the area. The Emerald Herald, who had been watching nearby, moved slowly toward the only figure remaining at the bonfire. She spoke softly, as she always did, but her words did not carry any less weight.
"You must understand, Rourke has suffered far more than most,"
"You know about his past life?"
"Almost all undead know his story, or at least part of it, even you"
"How are you certain of this?"
"Have you heard of the Demon Slayer? Or the Chosen Undead?"
The swordswoman thought for a moment digging into her memories, trying to recall these names. She shifted where she sat, resting her chin in her palm. She remembered now, they were stories, her brother used to tell them around campfires when they were children. The Mirran told the Herald of her recollection. The woman took a seat beside the other, and lowered her emerald green hood to reveal dark brown locks. She nodded and smiled at the knightess.
"Connor, in his youth,"
A feeling of dread washed over Lucatiel, she could not imagine such an existence. The trials and hardships he must have faced… She had never seen a demon much less heard of someone who had killed one, and the Chosen Undead… If she recalled correctly the Chosen Undead killed a being that called itself a god.
"How did he survive? Why did he not hollow?" The Mirran woman asked, inching closer to the other in the green cloak.
The Herald gave a short, angelic laugh.
"How do you think? A woman," She responded with a smile "two, in fact."
"A woman…"
"Yes, Rourke has married twice, once when slayed the four Arch-demons, to a witch named Yuria"
Lucatiel waited on baited breath she wanted to hear more of her companion's past, she wanted to know everything. The Emerald Herald saw this and only nodded, continuing with what she was saying.
"And the other, a Priestess named Reah, when he was the Chosen Undead" The Herald smiled as she looked to see the face of the knightess. "You see, Connor has survived this long because he does not concern himself with souls"
"But… I was lead to believe souls were the only thing truly kept an undead from Hollowing,"
"No… the undead only need a purpose," the Herald explained. "Connor has always told himself that one day he will have fought hard enough so that he will finally have peace,"
"Peace… That is all?"
"That is all,"
"Continue Herald, please"
"Have you not heard these tales before?"
"Yes, yes but please tell me the true tales,"
The Herald released another angelic ring, like small bells swinging in a breeze.
"Alright, but rest assured these are not happy tales, and I know nothing from when he was a human, that you will have to learn by other means" She said, looking in the direction Rourke left. The knightess remained silent, understanding what the Herald meant.
The paladin walked until he reached a forest of giant trees, so far there was little sense of danger. Only a few Hollows stood in his path, for as long as they lasted. He did feel exposed without his armor, but that did not matter at the moment. The knight needed to clear his head, needed to lead his mind away from thoughts of time long since passed.
He did not return to Majula for some time, and a few days after the Emerald Herald finished the tale, the knightess left in search of her brother. From what she learned, Lucatiel did not blame her friend for not wanting to speak of the past. She would have to apologize for prying when they crossed paths again.
Lost Bastille
Lucatiel leaned against the wall inside the tower, she closed her eyes and focused her energy on remembering her past, simple things seemed to be slipping through her grasp. She hated this feeling more than anything, even more than the deaths that lead her here. She tried to force the memories to reveal themselves to no avail. So consumed by her own thoughts she did not notice a familiar face enter the tower from the door only a few feet in front of her. Rourke eased his way into the room not wanting to disturb his friend he had left at Majula not long ago. He raised the torch he held in his left hand to light the sconce before him.
"Lucatiel, it's good to see you again" the man said quietly, his voice hoarse.
"Likewise, are you alright?" She asked, in a concerned tone.
The paladin sat beside her, visibly exhausted, and shaking violently from his battle he finished only a few minutes ago. He removed his helmet as the knightess lowered herself to sit beside him and retrieved his Estus flask from his side pouch. He fumbled with the lid for a moment before the Mirran took the flask from his hand, and opened it.
"Lean your head back," She demanded, raising the flask to his lips.
"I'm not a child-"
"Lean back!" Lucatiel pressed her empty hand against his forehead and forced his head backward. She raised the flask again, and poured the glowing liquid into his mouth before he could say anything else.
Rourke drank, not that he had much choice otherwise. After a few gulps he signaled to his friend he'd had enough. She removed the container from his lips and replaced the cap. After handing the Estus back she asked what his newest adventure held for him. He responded by telling a story of being stalked by a relentless predator called The Pursuer, a hunter said to never rest, not even in death, until his prey falls. The paladin's injuries from this battle were nothing major, save from the blood loss that gave him the shakes. Nothing Estus couldn't fix. The two sat for a while longer, allowing the knight to recuperate. After an hour or so he suggested they find a bonfire, so they would be safe enough to sleep. His companion hesitantly agreed, she wasn't completely sure he was ready to venture out. From what the Herald has told her, he has nearly killed himself many times by acting as if he was fit to continue when he was not.
"I'm fine, Lucatiel" Rourke protested as he reached for his Estus again.
"You haven't changed a bit, just don't get us killed because you're stubborn" she said with a grin.
The paladin finished the last of his Estus and stood up. He collected his claymore, talisman and other supplies. Before he could don them, his companion insisted she carried half the equipment to ease his trek to the next resting spot. She grabbed the satchel from his hand and placed it on her shoulder. The man grumbled something about being 'perfectly capable,' which she ignored. As the pair stepped out of the tower onto a stone walkway they were met by a menacing figure wrapped in bandages wielding a pole arm, a Jailor.
With a quick look and a nod the two sprang into action, the knightess drew her blade, while the paladin reached for his talisman. He whispered a prayer then hurled a massive javelin of lightning at his target knocking the creature off balance. The Jailor roared in pain, and swung its blade in a frenzy. The swordswoman dodged the attack with ease, by ducking under the monster's arm. She slashed into its ribs twice with her greatsword, then side stepped to the left, getting fully behind the beast. She raised her leg, aimed for the small of the creature's back and kicked out with all of her might, toppling the hulking thing over the edge of the walkway. She turned back to the paladin with a triumphant grin, not noticing the weapon. In a final attempt to take someone with him the Jailor swung his pole arm back over the edge, hooking the blade directly into Lucatiel's side…
Rourke didn't hesitate, he sprinted to his companion and pried the weapon from her side. The wound was deep but fortunately didn't seem to puncture any internal organs and nothing had broken off inside. The only other concern the knight had was poison. He quickly removed his coat and wrapped it tightly around the wound to slow the bleeding. He carefully placed his left arm behind her shoulders and his right beneath her knees. Moving as gently as possible he raised the woman off of the ground.
"Hold on," he said calmly "we have to be close to a bonfire, I'll patch you up there"
"Oh no need to rush, take your time," she groaned through clenched teeth, and blood.
"Shut up,"
The knight flew down the walkway, with his companion in his arms. Quickly scanning his environment he saw the path to the bonfire was blocked by a crumbling stone wall at the bottom of the stairs he had reached. He found a black powder barrel and kicked it down the flight of stairs. The barrel rolled with such speed the impact caused a small explosion, destroying the wall in his path. A quick glance behind him showed plenty of enemies heard his entrance. He charged for the bonfire, barely making it to the sanctuary before the creatures caught up to him.
Lucatiel woke up lying on a makeshift cot composed of old clothes and straw. Her head was resting on Rourke's lap. Her companion was fast asleep, his breath slow and steady. Her senses were slowly coming back to her and she soon felt cold. She lifted her head to take in her surroundings, she was at a bonfire. The only thing she found completely out of the ordinary was her vest and tunic had been removed, and her chest was covered by bandages freshly coated in what she deduced to be her own blood.
"Good morning, m'lady," a voice behind her whispered. The knightess turned to see her friend wide awake, as if he had been waiting for her to stir this whole time.
"Good morning" she responded, pulling the raggedy blanket up to cover herself.
The paladin removed his friend's head from his lap and placed it on a pillow then shifted himself closer to the fire. She mumbled something about being fine, but her comment fell on deaf ears as it often did when their positions were reversed. Rourke reached into the flame to retrieve the Estus flask. The healing draught would speed the recovery process but there is limits, a few sips could not restore a person to health from wound of this magnitude. It did have other uses, with direct application the Estus would act as a cleaning agent, which is what he was counting on now.
"Time to change your wrappings, and we have to stitch that up before it tears," he said in a serious tone.
"Do we now? Or are you just making an excuse to get my shirt off?" she asked with a forced laugh, as she was still in immense pain.
"Your shirt is already off, I just need to remove the bandages now," Rourke joked and retrieved more cloth wrap from his pack. "Unless, of course, you want that to get infected,"
"Ah, yes; the so called 'benefits' of undeath, famine, plague and infection still harm us, only we do not remain dead afterward"
"It's not a pleasant way to go, trust me"
Lucatiel laid back onto the cot, and allowed he friend to change the bandages. By the time the soiled cloth was removed he quickly focused his attention on the wound, although his eyes did wander… once or twice. The knightess caught him the first time, and gave him a look, but she would never admit, even in such circumstances, she didn't mind the attention. Half of the men in Mirrah despised her simply because of her family's low class and the others were disgusted by her undeath, neither group gave her a second look on any occasion. She snapped from her thuoghts when the paladin let out a sigh.
"What's wrong?" Lucatiel asked, craning her head. The man quickly pressed it back down onto the pillow.
"The blade, as I feared, was covered in… something, an infection has started to set in, but it's only minor so the Estus should keep it from spreading," he took the jade flask in hand, and unscrewed the lid. "Bite into something,"
"Pardon?"
Rourke pulled the wound open with the blade of his dagger, causing her to roar in pain. She quickly bit down into the blanket to muffle the noise. He worked as quickly as possible, when the wound was open wide enough he poured some of the Estus into the bloody mess, followed by a few herbs. He closed the wound, then pinched a small amount of skin between his fingers. With his free hand, he retrieved a curved needle connected to a thick black thread.
"Ready?" he asked.
Before she could respond he began stitching, causing her to scream into the blanket once more and writhe in place. It was an agonizingly slow process as he had to concentrate, to make sure he also reconnected the muscle tissue. When he finished the job he inspected it, mopped up the excess blood with a rag and splashed a bit more of the Estus to disinfect the surrounding area of her flesh. With fresh wrappings now in place he told his friend to rest. She protested briefly but decided actual sleep would be nice, she replaced her head onto Rourke's lap and drifted off.
The holy knight waited a few moments after Lucatiel closed her eyes to think, as if he were afraid she would read his mind, 'Damn it, I can't do this… not again…' Rourke looked down at the woman, and found his fingers combing through her hair. He let out a long sigh, then forced himself to sleep.