Blood Immortal

Faith in the One

After what felt like several hours but was simply a few minutes of being unconscious, Aarian woke up. He didn’t attempt to move. Even if he could, he was too scared to try. At first he was groggy with blurry vision and distorted hearing. Then the voices were more clear to him—two monstrous ones to be exact.

“I was so foolish,” said Varkagorsa. “If only I left upon completing the pilgrimage. How could I let myself believe this pitiful buffoon to be the Dralekar?”

“Well,” began the emperor thunderously, smoke rising from his nostrils, “he did beat you in combat. Not to mention the fact that you conjured a fireball and blasted him with it, only for him to heal within seconds.”

“Graaah!” roared Varkagorsa.

The dragon yawned and added, “Time mends all wounds, Varka.” He gave out a chuckle that caused a brief tremor while the orc looked even more frustrated. “Do not worry, Warlord. As is the tradition, we shall uphold the trial.”

“What…what are you planning to do to me?” asked Aarian, warily rising to his feet with an unsteady, worrisome countenance.

Varkagorsa snarled, “The Challenge of—”

“Please allow me to do the explaining, Warlord,” intervened the emperor. After the orc bowed at him, he turned his gaze to Aarian and went on, “First, permit me to introduce myself. I am known as Earamathras.”

Aarian, recognizing that the narll creature before him stood larger than a cloud in the sky, felt his fight against the ice dragon in Tor’kales was a joke. The words Earamathras spoke nearly went from one ear out the other what with him being so startled by the gargantuan dragon before him.

“Ar-are you going to torture and kill me?” stuttered Aarian.

The dragon gave out a deafening laugh. “No, my young humyn boy. I am Earamathras, the emperor of Niratredam and, most importantly, the last breathing guardian of Yunedar. The others are, as you call them, Spirits. But believe you me, they are not guardians.”

“My faith in the Nine will never dissolve,” replied Aarian. “I may falter at times, especially in despair, but in the end I will always believe in them. They are the only true guardians of Yunedar—not you.”

“Hmmm,” uttered Earamathras musingly. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? But there is also humor and peace within you, yes? After all, you did give my grumpy friend here quite an endearing nickname. What was it? Ah, it almost slipped my old mind: Varka.” He noticed the orc on the verge of screaming from the corner of his eye. His white-whiskered snout formed a wily grin as he continued, “Why don’t we give you a nickname too? Yes, how about…Prince? Yes indeed. Prince Aarian.”

“What?” barked Varkagora.

“Wait,” blurted Aarian, stunned. “I never revealed my birthright. Not even Warlord Varkagorsa knew. How did you know?”

“I am timeless and more knowledgeable than you can ever possibly imagine,” replied Earamathras, snorting. “Yet you are not alone,” he added, gaping into Aarian’s fiery red eyes. “Within you lies something atrocious—diabolical magic used when I myself was a youngling like you. It is a primeval and quaint way for the ‘immortal’ Spirits to return. But trust me, my young prince, when I tell you that we cannot allow such a travesty to happen.”

“He is the prince of Vlydyn?” muttered Varkagorsa, his mouth agape.

“What do you mean, return?” asked Aarian, ignoring the orc. “They are the divine Nine; they are Spirits who guide and protect us.”

“Is that so?” said Earamathras rhetorically. “Is that why all your loved ones have been killed? Is that why Vlydyn has been desecrated? Is that why a legion of demons have overrun your kingdom?” Silence briefly fell over the chamber. Then the dragon continued, “If you are willing to listen with an open mind, you may learn a thing or two.”

Aarian hesitated but eventually said, “I will try to listen.”

“Then there is hope,” said Earamathras. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, sprays of smoke emitting from his scaly nostrils. After a pensive moment, he went on, “Eons ago, before my time as a patriarch and guardian, demons roamed freely throughout Yunedar. And they weren’t mere ethereal beings—they were corporeal, living, and breathing beings. They were also masters of magic. Who knows if they created such power? Throughout my existence not once have I ever been able to come into contact with a benevolent force that told me otherwise. But the demons had a weakness. Varka, do you know?”

“Their physical bodies were not immortal,” he said.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” said Aarian. “All we need to do is return to Vlydyn, kill them, and be done with it.”

“No,” boomed the dragon, his voice causing Aarian to stumble. “Listen carefully, Prince Aarian. Elves have immortal bodies but lack spirits, so if they’re killed, that is the end. But when demons would die in the past, their ethereal form would linger and haunt us whether through nightmares or possession. Eventually, when the demons became extinct—physically—mind you, none of the races were at peace.”

“Not even the dark elves,” said Varkagorsa.

“Correct,” said Earamathras. “But please, Varka, do not interrupt me again. After all, I am supposed to be your emperor. Appearances! Appearances!”

Aarian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry,” he said, trying to look more serious. Initially he didn’t know why but then he smiled and said, “It’s just…you remind me of a funny friend I once had; he was my best friend.”

“Oh?” uttered Earamathras, acknowledging that Aarian had used the word “was” in his speech. “Was he a dragon too?”

“No,” said Aarian, waving his hand. “Dragons are rare. You should know tha—ah, I get it…more humor. My best friend was a gryphon. But what you’d probably never guess is that he was a narll like you.”

“Truly?” said Earamathras, intrigued.

“Yes,” replied Aarian. His smile vanished as he miserably continued, “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead now, along with my family and friends. I am the only fool who managed to live when it should’ve been the other way around.”

“Agreed,” said the warlord.

“Varka!” exclaimed the dragon.

“Ugh,” grunted the orc. He dared not look at the emperor lest he be vaporized by the dragon’s breath, which meant he felt guilty. “My apologies, Prince Aarian. I did not mean to insult you. I do know if that happened to me it would be difficult to bear.”

“Thank you, Warlord,” said Aarian.

“Shall I continue?” asked Earamathras amusingly. Their approval or not, he went on, “I was nothing more than a whelp when the demons haunted our minds—even mine, as strong-willed and powerful as I am. And so the leaders of every race came together and forged an alliance. Together, with their combined legions of wizards, sorceresses, druids, and even necromancers, they tapped into the fabric of existence and opened a portal into the nether, banishing the demons forever from our world.”

“That sounds a bit too bravado for me to believe,” said Aarian.

“I was present during the incantation,” responded Earamathras, snorting. “Yet we were betrayed by the nine leaders. I’m sure by now you know who they are.” Despite him witnessing Aarian grow pale, he went on, “I was never able to discern if they had intended this from the beginning or if they’d been possessed at some point, but the nine leaders, instead of banishing the demons, fused themselves with the most powerful ones in order to gain immortal Spirits. Although they, too, were eventually banished into the realm of the nether, they nevertheless vowed to return. That time, I am afraid, is now.”

His eyes downcast, Aarian didn’t respond to Earamathras. He knew the narll dragon had a point. Something was wrong with the picture that he’d painted in his head; or rather, to be more precise, something seemed to be wrong with the picture that his parents and advisors painted for him. He’d merely accepted and embraced it. And he loved it. This was his comfort zone. In fact, it was just about all he had left to live for. Aarian wasn’t sure if he could handle his belief being taken away too.

“Prince Aarian,” called out Earamathras jadedly, gazing at his red eyes. “I have a terrible feeling you’ve been possessed by one of the demons and that you’re nothing more than a means to an end for the immortal Spirits—an ignorant harbinger whose destiny is to become a gateway and restore them back to power.”

“This can’t be,” said Aarian, taking a step back. He knew he’d marked himself with the symbol that represented the Nine immortals. Then he thought of how he entered the hell rift in order to seal it. His fiery eyes and hair, his nightmares, and the hydra that had been ripped apart by something as monstrous as a demon—possibly himself, were a testament to this. “There’s no doubt that I’m cursed,” he added frailly. “But to be possessed by a demon? And the Nine…how can all of them be evil?”

“You’re right,” responded Earamathras. “Not all of them are evil. One had, by a miracle it seems, defected.”

“She is standing behind the emperor,” said Varkagorsa.

Aarian gazed ahead at the statue of Xen. “I know for a fact that it would be impossible for Xen to be corrupt. I felt her eternal light within the dream, saving me from Izabaldo’s grasp. And also, Lord Taveric, with the blessing of Xen, sacrificed himself to greatly wound a demon that my companions and I had fought in Grisfall.”

“Xen is the one and only immortal you can trust,” said Earamathras.

“Impossible,” said Aarian, shaking his head. “That simply can’t be. Thay’tal of courage? Daela’han of love and compassion? Zartos of the fiery sun? U’cleria of wisdom and endurance? That’s impossible! I mean, Gar’kon I can understand. But—”

“Ah,” interjected Earamathras. “Gar’kon you can understand? It has always been hard to trust the dark elves. But the truth is that if the others were in fact possessed, it no longer matters what race they are, or, to be more precise, were. They are demons now.”

“I refuse to believe this,” said Aarian. “There are only Nine eternal Spirits, and they are a blessing. If we seek their guidance, we shall receive salvation.”

“There are many other spirits,” said Varkagorsa. “You have witnessed this yourself. How do explain the banshee that nearly killed you? And how about that lich you told me about while we traveled here? Súrion, was it? Yes, there are many more spirits. But the problem is they’re all damned. We can only have faith in the One.”

“Xen can’t possibly be the only noble Spirit,” said Aarian, still shaking his head.

“See?” said Varkagorsa, looking at the emperor. “He’s a closed-minded fool. I knew that I made a terrible mistake bringing him here, thinking he was the Dralekar.”

“And can somebody please tell me what this Dralekar is?” demanded Aarian.

“Varka,” began Earamathras, giving the orc a long look, “have you been teasing Prince Aarian with the prophecy before putting him to the test?”

“I swear in your name that I haven’t revealed anything,” replied the warlord.

“Calm down, Varka,” said Earamathras, his chuckle like an earthquake. “I’m not going to bite you.” He then turned to Aarian and added, “Dralekar is a title from a primordial prophecy—a premonition and revelation I experienced during the epoch when Xen haunted my mind before being banished: the legendary Dralekar, vanquisher of demons. He would be a mortal possessed by the demon king. Then, cursed with the blood and immortality of the demonic spirit, Dralekar would suffer greatly until becoming the master of the demon. With blood immortal, the Dralekar would rise with a legion none would ever forget and put a swift end to the demons once and for all.”

Aarian laughed wildly. “My goodness,” he said with an astonished expression. “That is quite a fairytale. And you think that’s me?”

“Not anymore,” said Varkagorsa, frowning.

“How about you, mighty emperor?” asked Aarian. “Do you actually believe I am the one who can fulfill this prophecy of yours?”

“No,” said Earamathras firmly. “Though there is no doubt of you being possessed by a demon, it is probably not very powerful. Otherwise it would’ve indubitably taken over you by now.”

“Indubitably,” said Aarian, laughing loudly again. “That is a fancy word. You speak Vlydyonian well.”

“Furthermore,” boomed the dragon, his eyes squinting and darkening at the prince, “even if you were somehow able to survive our trial, it would mean that the demon is extraordinarily powerful.”

“Which translates to your demise,” said Varkagorsa. “How about we just put him out of his misery and execute him now?”

“I warned you not to interrupt me again, Varka,” said the emperor, gritting his teeth and showing his fangs to the orc who prostrated in forgiveness. “Anyway,” continued Earamathras lightheartedly, “As the warlord said, a demon so immensely powerful would never allow you to master it, thus killing you. But,” —the dragon sighed heavily—“As I said before to the warlord, judging or making assumptions is not our way.”

“Give me a break,” said Aarian, giving the dragon his back. “Varkagorsa brought me all the way here because he was superstitious. This enchanted fortress may be impressive; however, it’s full of savages with an emperor who has lost his mind in anecdotes made for whelps such as yourself—no offense.”

“I want to decapitate him for such heresy,” said Varkagorsa, unsheathing his katana and bringing it along the prince’s throat.

“Sheathe your sword, Warlord,” said Earamathras, strangely calm.

Varkagorsa gnashed his teeth, spittle landing on Aarian’s face, and then lowered his weapon, sheathing it.

“No offense taken, Prince Aarian,” said Earamathras. “I don’t blame you for feeling this way. Such resentment is natural. You want to desperately believe that the spirituality you were raised with is the cosmic truth. Believe you me, this is how most people think. I also understand that there are many who need to see in order to believe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” inquired Aarian, irked.

Without responding, Earamathras raised his elongated tail and whirled it toward Aarian who gasped. The wind alone created by the swirl of the moving tail pushed him back a few feet. Then the tail struck him, shattering his breastplate and sending him all the way down to the first floor of the coliseum. Aarian screamed louder than a banshee while tossed down like a rag doll. Seconds later, he smashed onto the concrete and broke his back.

“We shall see this through to the end,” said the dragon. “Warlord Varkagorsa, blow the horn and bring our citizens here. They have a trial to witness.”

“At once, Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, dashing off.