CHAPTER 3
Arven’s head rang. He could feel the musty air of the holding cell brushing the horns that had sprouted all over his body and refused to recede. Strong chains held him fast, anchored to the ground, but gave him more than enough free range to sit up and examine his surroundings. A small table sat nearby, rising out of the stone floor. A latrine flanked the wall he was propped against, and he was sitting on an obviously crude bed of straw that somebody had gone to the effort of stuffing with down for his comfort. Sudden flashes of memory came to him, showing him what he had done, how he had tried to harm his new friend, the Knight Captain, and no doubt attracted the Elder Elf who had nearly killed one of the Captain’s knights, as well as his own mother. Hot, bitter tears swelled up and made their way down his face. He wanted to cry out, to berate himself, to curse his God, anything, but he couldn’t find the words. Vicious sobs, wrought with the bitterest of sorrows, were the only sound he could manage.
The Knight Captain pried open the rusted cell door and strode in. “Glad to see, by those tears, that Arven is still with us. What of the Elder Elf that you ate? Can you feel him?” Arven slowly shook his head. The Captain walked closer, bearing the warm smell of prime rib, fresh vegetables and heady mead. Despite having consumed an entire living being his own size, Arven found himself starving and looked pleadingly up at the Captain. “Can I… Can I have that?”, he choked. The Captain nodded and placed the tray on the table, well within Arven’s reach. He devoured the meat and vegetables, then gulped the mead down ravenously. The Captain stepped out of the cell briefly and came back with a large bowl of cool water, which Arven gratefully accepted and pulled down in seconds. “You know about as much as I do about what happened, don’t you?”, the Captain sighed as he sat down next to Arven. “I… I know that I belong here, in this cell.” He paused to wipe his mouth. “Your knight, and my mother… What has become of them? Pray, tell me, dear Captain, that they are alive.” The Captain nodded slowly. “Your assault on the Elder Elf was timely indeed. Brutal and tragic though it may have been, your mother and my knight surely owe you their lives.” Arven chewed on his lip apprehensively. “But… It was I that the Elder Elf came for, leaving the responsibility for any harm squarely on my shoulders.” The captain smacked Arven hard in the back of the head. “Fool! That sort of victimized attitude breeds powerlessness, and we need you. We need you to be you.” Arven looked to the Knight Captain with blurry eyes. “Are you so sure about that? Who or what am I? Are you certain it’s me that you need, and not the Elf I consumed?” The Captain nodded, then stood up slowly. He walked stiffly to Arven’s chains and unlocked them with a small key. “Come with me. I must ask something of you.” The pair made their exit from the cell.
Down a winding stairway, the two went down a long corridor, full of bustling people on their busy way who gave Arven only a cursory glance, despite him looking every inch an extinct Elder Elf. Eventually, they came to a sealed door. The knight captain unsheathed his sword. ‘This is it…’, Arven though, stoic in stance and mind, ‘He will end me here and with me this whole sordid saga.’ The knight captain stretched his left arm to reveal skin between the plates of armor. His sword bit the flesh almost hungrily, drawing a steady trickle of blood. With the blood running to the tip of his sword, the captain pierced it into the center of the door. It separated into four pieces and slid away into the wall. The captain sheathed his sword and announced himself and Arven loudly, then strode in. Arven skulked in behind him, just in time to avoid the door closing on him. “Arven,”, the captain said as the two rounded a corner into a room full of strange equipment and people in white, “I’d like you to meet our magic science team.”
Men and women in white coats smeared with strange substances came and fawned over him for some minutes, oohing and aahing and sharing ideas and shaking his hands, until the captain broke up the spectacle with the kind of force that would have sent lesser men and women whimpering and limping home. “Our kingdom’s science team long ago stumbled upon crystals that hold stored magical energy, eliminating the need to call it forth from the Earth as Elves do. Thus, a team was formed to investigate the possibilities.”, a tall man with thinning gray hair explained to Arven. “Boys and girls, please. His gifts?” “You’re no fun, cap!”, one of the scientists growled, a grizzled young woman who looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks, all hollow cheekbones and shedding blonde hair. The Knight Captain sighed heavily and waved a hand toward her. “This is Abigail, our head of Magic Science.” Abigail excitedly seized Arven’s arm and led him to a nearby rack of swords, all of them various unique colors and shapes. A pair of them called to him. “You may not know this,” Abigail explained, “But the Knight Captain’s sword and many others like it in this kingdom are made with magic.”
Arven walked up to the rack uninvited and seized the two swords. They were very plain-looking longswords with black blades, their only real special features being a crystalline red gem embedded into the handguard of each of them. “These crystals…”, Arven brought a sword to his face and licked the crystal, “They’re blood, crystallized by magic, aren’t they?” Abigail nodded. “Mmm-hmm! Your blood was very hard to crystallize, sweetie. We’ve never worked with an elder elf before.” Arven gave the swords a few quick swings. They felt like a part of him that had long been missing, now restored. The Knight Captain stepped forward and clapped a hand on Arven’s shoulder. “We want you to become an honorary knight for the kingdom. The elf nodded slowly. “I feel it is a good way to atone.” The captain took his hand from Arven’s shoulder and stepped back. “Then those swords are yours. You’ll find that they’re a tad different than what you’re used to, in a good way.” Arven put the swords into his belt. “I’ve learned all I need to know from them. Give me my assignment, captain.”
In a dim strategy room, lit only by torchlight, a map of the kingdom bore small wax figurines made to look like Elder Elves. “Reports of sightings.”, Arven said curtly. The captain grunted his confirmation. “You are to go to each of these places and investigate. Whether you would like some men to bring with you or you’d like to go alone, it’s your choice. Simply let me know and my army is yours to command.” Arven pointed to an Elder Elf marker standing tall in a back alley of the capitol city. “This one, and I’m going alone. Call it instinct.” The captain nodded. “I trust you, Arven. Earn the kingdom’s trust, and may God be with you.” Arven turned slowly from the table, sighed heavily, then finally walked away. “God has abandoned me,”, he called coldly over his shoulder as he left, “And I cannot in good conscience fault Him for it.”
After an uneventful day’s walk, Arven made it to the capitol city. He felt no fatigue, no hunger, no thirst. Without having to check the map in his pocket, he found the shady back alley where a narrow staircase offered to whisk him down and away, into the city’s depths. Into another world, a dangerous one. There was an Elder Elf here, and Arven had locked onto its spiritual trail. He looked at the stairs for a second, considering his options. He could leave now and nobody would know him. He could venture away and live the rest of his days in peace, knowing that the Elder Elf scourge that he could have stopped will one day come calling. Instead, he decided to descend the staircase.
A short walk in the underground brought Arven face to face with all manner of seedy and vile people that frequented the city’s dark underbelly, selling all manner of unholy worldly delights. He glided past all of them with silent disdain. In his mind, only he and the signal he had locked into existed. Rats popped up to watch him, as though wishing him well on his journey. Foul-smelling muck crept up Arven’s boots, but he didn’t care one bit. Winding pathways gave way to a massive underground cathedral, miles beneath the city. Specifically, it was beneath the palace. The Elder Elf’s signal had led him here, and seemed to go no further. Its power was incredible, enough to make Arven’s head spin and his vision weave. He reached a hand up shakily and brushed it against the large handle on the only door that the cathedral building had. His flesh smoked as it burned him. WIth a scowl, he targeted the door’s hinges and blew them away with blasts of magical energy.
“Arven Repner.” A cold voice resounded as Arven walked into the chapel. “We’ve been expecting you, young elf.” The voice’s source made itself known; an unassuming old man in a cowl. A rusty sword hung at his side. “I cannot allow you to interfere with our plan.” The man flew forward with absolutely blinding speed, barely giving Arven time to raise his blades and block the initial blow. The power pressing against his blades was stunning. Arven pushed with all of his might, but could not make the man budge. Unable to rely on brute strength, he ducked, allowing the man’s sword to sail over him, and slashed upward with both blades. His swords met only air; when Arven looked up, the old man was already yards away and charging forward to renew his assault. “What are you?!”, Arven screeched as he managed to bring only a single sword up in time to parry the thrust headed for his heart. The old man did not answer, only holding steadfast to his ground as Arven slashed at him with the sword that wasn’t locked in a contest of strength. Arven watched in horror as the old man dodged each blow with almost laughable ease. Some part of him felt insulted. Frustrated. The fury burned behind his eyes. “Good!”, the old man called out, “Become your true self!”
New strength made its way through Arven’s veins, feeling like icy water. The old man’s sword began to move backward. He could feel his horns moving, growing. They began to constrict about his body slowly, forming a sort of armor. The old man’s sword shot across the room and was quickly replaced by a handheld launcher, powered by magic. Spurts of fire, lightning and magical energy slammed into Arven and glanced off of his armor. He charged forth, too fast for the old man to track, and slammed an arm through his chest. His hand came out the other side, heart clutched fast and still beating. Arven’s hand shot back through, taking the heart with it, and he stepped back to let the old man fall to the ground.
The old man did not fall. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed to the heavens. Great masses of black horns shot from every part of his body and constricted tightly around him. The sound of bones cracking and the scent of blood filled the air. “What the hell is going on here?!”, Arven cried as he fell back a step. A shock of white hair and glowing red eyes made their presence known, bursting forth beneath the black lacquer head armor. The old man’s limbs grew long and gangly, leaving him towering over Arven. Black and red spurts of energy manifested as tendrils flowing through the air around the transformed old man. “You…”, Arven sputtered, “You were an Elder Elf this whole time?!” Only then did its spiritual signature come back into focus.
The Elder Elf reared back and roared loudly, then charged. Arven’s eyes glowed deep red as his swords rose to defend him, licking at the air like a wolf licking its chops before prey. Arven set his arms parallel to the ground and spun as fast as he could. A small tornado stirred up around him, and he directed it to the Elder Elf. Razor-sharp winds sheared off parts of its armor and it screeched loudly in response. “We will not allow you to win, Arven Repner!”, it screamed in a million voices at once. The room around them began to warp, engulfed in dark magical energy. Elder Elves in spirit form came en masse, at lightspeed and from all corners of the universe. “We have been waiting for the day of resurrection, and you, young one, will not spoil it!” Their collective shouts and groans grew ever louder as the Elder Elf standing before Arven grew and grew.
“Do not be afraid, child. Go. I will assist you.” An unknown voice sounding in Arven’s head gave him inexplicable courage and power. Not fully certain he could fly, he took off skyward. Plumes of white feathers fell behind him as he flapped his massive wings. The Elder Elf Legion was causing cracks in reality, through which demons began to crawl. Arven knew what he had to do, and he knew what it would cost him. He did not hesitate. Hands and blades rose to impede him, but he dove, like a drill, through layers of armor and into the bloated heart of the beast. Once inside, his Elder Elf armor faded, leaving only Arven Repner, a scared little elf boy from Traad who was resolute to fulfill what he now knew was his destiny.
“Are you watching, God? Goddesses? Whatever or whoever is out there?!”, he screamed as he reached up and took handfuls of heart tissue and held fast. He felt as much as heard the approval of some higher being, and took that as all the assurance he needed. He turned his magical energies in on himself. He directed everything he had at his own heart, filling his own blood with intense power. Holding himself together as the magical energy grew, he could feel it eating away at every inch of him, longing for his destruction. His own magic, the signature dark energy of the Elder Elves and something entirely different, feeling warm, enveloped every part of him. “Mother! Father! Siblings!”, he willed his cry to carry across the cosmos, “I am sorry. Little Arven won’t be coming home.” A single thought sent all of the stored magical energy back to his heart, and then collapsed it. Energy, blood, bits of bone and another crystalline substance shot out from Arven’s remains, engulfing the giant Elder Elf conglomerate. Arven’s blood, flying on the air with the magical energies, obeyed his last wish and used its link to the Elder Elves to pull them all together into a great mass, then tear them all apart in an instant. Time and space returned to normal as all of the Elder Elves who had laid in wait for this day screamed their last and were no more.
“Are you watching, God? Goddesses? Whatever or whoever is out there?!”, he screamed as he reached up and took handfuls of heart tissue and held fast. He felt as much as heard the approval of some higher being, and took that as all the assurance he needed. He turned his magical energies in on himself. He directed everything he had at his own heart, filling his own blood with intense power. Holding himself together as the magical energy grew, he could feel it eating away at every inch of him, longing for his destruction. His own magic, the signature dark energy of the Elder Elves and something entirely different, feeling warm, enveloped every part of him. “Mother! Father! Siblings!”, he willed his cry to carry across the cosmos, “I am sorry. Little Arven won’t be coming home.” A single thought sent all of the stored magical energy back to his heart, and then collapsed it. Energy, blood, bits of bone and another crystalline substance shot out from Arven’s remains, engulfing the giant Elder Elf conglomerate. Arven’s blood, flying on the air with the magical energies, obeyed his last wish and used its link to the Elder Elves to pull them all together into a great mass, then tear them all apart in an instant. Time and space returned to normal as all of the Elder Elves who had laid in wait for this day screamed their last and were no more.
Arven awoke facing a being of pure light. He felt safe and comfortable in its presence, but regret still tugged at his heartstrings. “You wish to live again.”, the voice boomed in his head. Arven could not speak, only nod. “I cannot grant this wish. Your sacrifice was essential.” Arven felt hot tears burning behind his eyes. “I can, however, grant you new life.” Arven nodded again. “The dark power tied to your soul through the blood in your previous body can only be purged through atonement, but through continuous lives, this can be accomplished.” Arven relaxed and awaited the being’s next words. “You will live one thousand times.” At this, Arven finally found the strength to speak. “Excuse me?! One thousand lives?!”, he spat. The being affirmed the statement. “You will live one thousand lives, given the chance to be a hero in each one. Though always forgotten in the end in order to avoid anybody identifying you across time and space, you will be put to trial by fire each life, and given the opportunity to make positive change.” Arven shook his head in disbelief. “Is there any other way?”, he pleaded. “You can spend ten thousand years in the Flames of Purging, if this is not to your liking.” Arven shook his head one last time. “Then you shall be born anew.” Before he could utter his thanks or ask any other questions, everything went black and he suddenly felt very warm and small. Memories of the life he had just sacrificed gradually faded.
Life 1/1000 concluded.
ARVEN 2 PREVIEW
Sweat pooled on Kenji’s aching brow. The guitar strap dug mercilessly into his shoulder. His vision began to blur. Ignoring all of it to the best of his ability, he walked out into the bright stage lights. He felt his heart about to burst from his chest as the crowd demanded music. Yuji sat calmly at the drums a few feet away, Junpei fiddled with his bass guitar and Shinji paced the length of his keyboard. “You guys ready?!”, Kenji called to his bandmates. In return, he received a collection of nods. The curtain began to rise. The voice of the announcer gave some loud, crowd-pandering banter, then finally boomed its announcement. “Next on our stage here at Fuji Rock, give it up for Arven Repner!”
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