Chapter Two: The Riders of Faraam

My heart still beating against the wall of my ribcage, I attempted to move as far away from the oncoming sound as possible. To my surprise, I found that my broken legs were now as good as new, and they wasted no time in propelling me clumsily across Majula's grassy green turfs. Unfortunately, my time in the Gutter had robbed me of my expertise on walking straight, and with my legs feeling as though they were held steady by little more than strands of rope, I crashed to the ground.

In the process of my blunderings, I managed to drop my useless stick. If I was jumped by an assailant, I wanted to know that I could at least poke them in the eye in self defence. Keeping my eyes trained upon the ground for fear of what I may see ahead, I went to retrieve the wooden weapon.

Just as my fingers had started to curl around it, an intimidating steel hoof pulverised the ground, nary a few feet from my fingers. Immediately, I withdrew, as the armoured steed looming above me kicked an enormous cloud of dust into my face, and snorted wildly.

Looking up, I saw a warrior clad in a distinctive silver set of armour disembarking from the horse. Even with all of my knowledge now, I find it difficult to describe the chain-mail of Faraam, but it is very extravagant. The shoulder-plates are clad with a fine fur, and the gauntlets are carved from a most-elegant sliver of silver. The chest is an array of delicately-fused slabs, bound by a leather strap where a selection of daggers and apothecary materials may be stored. The armour is magnificent, but it is the helm that continues to astound me. The headgear of the Faraam knight is a marvel of smithery; a curved, tall and sleek design, topped by a trinity of grooves that form a highly-defensive visor for the head which it occupies.

From that very first moment of sighting, I knew I was facing an opponent who would not be trifled with. Moments later, I was proved right, as the knight thrust a sword composed of the finest titanite steel into the against my throat.

It was only the second time that day that I had been threatened, and held at blade's edge, but already, I could sense it would not be my last.

"Stand, worm," my assailant ordered. Begrudgingly, I did so, my aching bones straining against my flesh as I did so. Satisfied, the knight stared me straight in the eyes, a gesture that I found even more disconcerting because their own eyes were completely invisible. The knight had me at their mercy, and with their blade pressing deeper into my flesh, I prepared for the end, which had come so unexpectedly close to the beginning.

Then, they said something which took me completely by surprise. "Sit back down."

I stared in disbelief, my ears wondering if they had warped the words, and my heart punching at the edge of my chest in a feeble attempt to escape its enclosure.

"Didn't ya hear me?" the knight challenged me. "Get down on your hands and knees, and lick my boots!"

There could be no mistaking the drollery that was seeping into his speech. It suddenly dawned upon me that there was no sign of fighting anywhere around me. A quick, confirmatory glance to wards Aldane proved me right. The burly northerner had sheathed his sword, and was watching this tomfoolery unfold. The knight, losing patience with my un-cooperation, pushed his blade down further on my neckline. This time, I definitely felt the edge draw blood, and I remained frustratingly paralysed as the trickle ran down my neck, tickling and troubling me with perfect synchrony.

"That's quite enough, Reckan."

I recognised the voice immediately, reconciling it with the divinity and reassurance of Carlai. 'Reckan' made no attempt to move however, and actually seemed amused by Carlai's efforts to stand in his way.

"Aldane!" my angelic saviour cried. "Tell your ape of a brother to let him go. Now!"

"Ape?!" Reckan's grip tightened upon the end of his sword. "Watch your tongue, bitch, or I'll cut it out!"

Thankfully, Aldane had seemed to come to (at least part of) his senses, and begrudgingly came o my aid. "Come on, brother. You've had your fun The tailed one poses no threat."

"No," Reckan agreed. "But he is very amusing."

The burden was lifted from my shoulders, and immediately my hand was at my bloodied cut. My fingers graced the graze, identifying at as a succinct, yet sore wound. I cannot express the anger that began to rise in my blood as Reckan and Aldane, siblings in sadism, clasped their hands together, and shared a bellowing laugh at my expense. My fists were bunched before I could stop myself, and on my feet before I even knew what was happening. However, my mind to unleash fury on the pair was sizzled out when I saw the five warriors accompanying them, each similarly kit up atop ferocious steeds.

Carlai laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "These lot aren't worth it. Thugs - all of them."

Offering her a forced smile, I pressed her for information. "Who are they?"

Carlia shook her head, disapproving. "Reckan and his knights are from Faraam. They've been travelling around Majula for a couple of days now, mostly to visit his brother. They say they've found a lead on something important that their king wanted. I couldn't care less for all of it. They bring only drunken foolishness and blithering idiocy whenever they are near. If they plan on staying the night, don't lay any hope on catching shuteye."

"I wouldn't have slept anyway," I informed her. As I watched, Aldane and a Faraam knight smashed their bellies together like a pair of cymbals. "I've been asleep for as long as I can remember."

Carlai looked at me, her eyes darting about to try and identify the enigma that I am. "You really don't remember anything, huh?"

I shake my head. "Only the darkness."

Carlai nodded, her eyes shimmering as they looked out against the sun, which was leisurely setting over the sea.

"Well, maybe you'd have been best to stay in it."

I was more than a little alarmed when the darkness started to creep back across the world. Only, this time it was not the spawn of a dark and dreary hole, but a natural occurrence. Day had turned into night.

The rest of the afternoon had passed rather uneventfully. I had been sat atop a flat-topped boulder for the past few hours, pondering on everything from my name to the last meal I had eaten before entering the hole. Every so often, my eyes would be caught by a movement behind me, and my hairs would bristle in anticipation. But time and time again, I proved myself paranoid, with a timid glance revealing nothing but my tail.

My tail. Many a time that afternoon did I just end up staring at the thing. I would've loved to have seen it hacked off. It served no purpose whatsoever, other than to make me feel like even more of an outcast than I already am. It just kind of sits there. A scaly eyesore, a loathsome lump. Not to mention my stick, the one possession that I had been found with. What ever could have persuaded the man I was before the Gutter to carry such a pointless item around? Maybe I was missing something, everything. Or maybe the world really was just that abstruse.

As sunlight began its transformation into moonlight, I watched the sun set below the sea. I won't deny that tears gathered at the floodgates when the last of the orange beams pierced through the jagged stalagmites, and the world was enveloped in a gloomy veil. For all I knew, that sunset could have been my ten millionth, but in that moment, having no recollection of anything beyond the dark, it moved me in ways I cannot even express.

Of course, Dumb and Dumber did not enjoy the aesthetics. I have never known such a pair of hooligans, and I probably never will again. For a while, after Reckan and his men had removed the saddles from their horses and tied them to a nearby house, Aldane and his brother were involved in a heated debate. What it was about, I had no idea at the time. All I heard was the faintest murmurs of conversation, strange words I had never heard of like 'Aldia', and 'Brightstone.' Of course, that led me to be reluctantly intrigued. After Reckan's... how should I say... "graceful" entrance, I had not expected much more of him. But there was a certain sophistication about the man - the same goes for his brother. Through their extremely-emotive body language, I could ascertain that Aldane was indeed the youngest of the siblings. When Reckan spoke, there was less of the ruggedness that he had demonstrated earlier... He used some of the most vibrant adjectives I have ever heard, words like 'despondent' and 'doleful.' There was no doubt I was looking upon an educated man, perhaps some kind of scholar.

And yet, all that civility dissolved after about an hour. A cask containing bottles of a sharp-red wine was brought out of a trunk, and swiftly consumed, before another was brought forward. This one contained xanthous yellow liquid, the kind that looked better suited to the inside of my intestinal tract than a man's mouth. Still, Reckan swallowed one whole in less than half a minute, and his brother was soon up in arms, trying to outmatch his sibling with at least three bottles at a time. Following the thorough evaporation of this second casket, Aldane seemed to be under the assumption that his brother had transformed into a steed, and mounted him. I tried not to wince as the pantomimic duo clumsily trod off into the night, Aldane slapping viciously on his brother's rear, and shouting "Go horsey, go!"

"Faradvocaat."

Carlai's voice shook me from my state of disbelief. She was smiling at me, as she always seemed to be, and took a place opposite me on the floor, with her back firmly to the tomfoolery beyond. "It's a Forossan delicacy," she explained. "Doesn't half make ya lose your mind."

I didn't speak for a few moments, distracted by the way her eyes shone against the light of the dusk. Those eyes... like searchlights, they were peering at me, assessing me, trying to weave their way into my mind; my soul. But I didn't mind. In the evening's palette, they seemed to transform, metamorphosing from an evergreen to a silky opal.

"It looks like piss," I say.

It was the first time I had attempted humour since I had emerged from the Gutter. Since that situation did not evoke much comedy, that was hardly a surprise, but yet I was surprised by how naturally the words had seemed to come to me. They were just my thoughts, and yet... They felt like something I would say, which is probably difficult for you to understand. Nonetheless of the rustiness of my joke, Carlai's mouth opens wider than I thought possible, and a trickle of laughter bursts forth.

"That's an insult to piss," she exclaims, giggling.

"That's true. Piss smells better," I riposted.

I chuckled a little harder than I probably should have at my own joke. It was alright though, because Carlai seemed to laugh just as hard. When I finally ceased my idiotic chortling, I looked at my feet for a few moments, only to realise that her eyes were yet to leave me. Burning red, I cast a glance at her, to see she was still marked by an enduring simper. When she still didn't stop looking, and the situation was starting to become a tad bit gawky, I decided to ask my saviour a question.

"What is it like?"

Carlai's eyebrows fell as she considered my query. "What?"

"The world. Out there. What kind of a place have I arrived in?"

"It's called Drangleic," she answers.

The second she mutters the word, I sense a power behind it. An authority. It meant nothing to me, and yet, subconsciously, I felt an undeniable notion of acquaintance.

"Drangleic," I say, letting the syllables reverberate upon my tongue. "Sounds mysterious."

Carlai nods a little. "It was once a great kingdom, watched over by a strong and just king. The land prospered, and many found a home here. But then came the curse. The curse of the undead."

That word again. Undead. Hadn't I been labelled as such upon my entrance? "What does it mean?" I ask, morbidly curious.

"It's not a pleasant topic of conversation," she warns. "Are you sure you wish to know?"

I say that I am, already dreading my own mistake.

"It means that death is no longer the end," Carlai answers, her voice little more than a whisper now. "Humanity passes into a state of purgatory. Our flesh may wither and rot, but our minds stay alive. Our hairs fall out of their pores, our bones start to splinter and crack, and yet we keep on walking, crawling, searching for answers to questions we don't even know how to ask any longer. We become the scorn of the earth, hunted by the living, and pacified only by a fiery tomb. We cannot even find unity amongst brothers and sisters, for once humanity has weakened to the state of undeath, only one thing matters to us, and that's ourselves."

She peers at me when I choose to say nothing following her monologue. "It's not a pretty fate, I'll tell you."

My ears pick on her words, but my eyes deny her. A deep sense of foreboding is toiling in my gut. Even Carlai can sense it.

"You shouldn't worry," she says, and I finally look at her. "You are not undead. Or, at least, you are not hollow. I believe that, to an extent, we are all undead."

I look upon her perfectly-carved features, and cast a doubt. "Even yourself?"

She looks down for a spilt second, before resurfacing. "Yes. I have died many times now. But I keep my humanity, by holding onto this."

She unfolds her fingers, and cradled inside them, is a strange idol. An effigy of a human face. As I stare at, and tried to assess its meaning, I slowly start to see how its curves, and its wholly-distinguishable shape, come to represent Carlai's likeness. Perhaps even my own.

"If you can remember who you are," she says softly. "You will not succumb to the curse. Try holding it for yourself."

She passes the effigy into my own hands, and I look upon it with glazed eyes. I see nothing.

I am about to concede, when a darkness comes over me. My head starts to spin, my grasp upon the effigy starts to falter. I hear Carlai murmuring, then talking, and then shouting at the top of her lungs. Dark, unrecognisable shapes flush around my peripheral vision, slowly melting into another until all that surrounds me is a perfect blackness. A void of silence.

And then I hear the voice.

"Ellllllliiiiiiiisss!"

A woman, without a doubt. But it is not Carlai, and I do not recognise it at all.

Just as suddenly as it begins, the scream is gone. And then there is just the vacuum again.

Without warning, a clap of white lightning illuminates something. A shape, a figure.

A face.

Contorted... twisted... screaming for help...

It takes me all of one minute to work out what I'm looking at. And then I see the object clutched to its chest. A stick. A perfectly useless stick.

Finally, I realise that I am gazing upon myself.

And then the white light implodes, and I am thrown into the nothing.

Hi everyone! Thanks for all the follows and favourites. I'm really happy with how the story has been received thus far! Just a line to let you know that although I will continue to write this story, my efforts are constantly divided so progress will be slow. Alongside this, I have Dark Lawls II, The Fall of the Silence (so nearly finished), A Shot in the Dark and a new Godzilla fanfic that I'm starting. Expect maybe a chapter per month? Sorry guys, it's all I can do to keep your followship ;(