A Haunted Past (short story)

This is a creative work set in the world of Elanthia, attributed to its original author(s). It does not necessarily represent the official lore of GemStone IV.

Title: A Haunted Past

Author: Mirkk Timbertree-Bayvel

In 5104, after a prosperous time on Teras Isle, Mirkk set sail on an unnamed merchant vessel to return to Wehnimer's Landing. While underway, the vessel was attacked and razed by krolvin pirates, and Mirkk was forced into rowing as a slave on their ships. He does not speak of his time on the ships. He is, however, tormented by night terrors because of what he endured and what he had to do to survive.

Monster

Crimson drops fell from his fingertips onto the salt-crusted deck, some mixing with the blood already there, and he couldn't tell if it was someone else's or his own. He watched several large drops splatter irregularly against the wood. He wondered for a moment if eventually the drops would stop or if they would begin to pool. His eyes followed the blood up from his hands and along his arms, across his shoulders and realized it covered his chest. Then the shouting began.

"What should we do with their bodies?" someone yelled.

"Av v'koort," a guttural voice barked. "In the water. With their burzgafk Ashrim cousins."

Mirkk raised his head, looking around. He watched the other rowers place their makeshift weapons - nets, clubs, and rusty sailor's knives - in a pile before the mast. When krolvin attacked another ship and felt their numbers were too few, they would force the slaves rowing below to fight, their number never enough to be a threat to the krolvin themselves, but enough to increase their odds of krolvin victory. Some chose death by the sword over fighting. Others plunged themselves into the depths of the sea at first opportunity. Others still - the ones that had any semblance of hope - would fight.

Mirkk moved over and tossed a rusted machete onto the pile. He must have moved too slowly, as one krolvin shouted at him in Krolgeh. Mirkk stared at him, shrugging. The krolvin - the one the rest of the slaves referred to as "Pig Eyes", less because of his beady eyes, and more so because of his smashed and upturned nose - snorted, "Faster. Clear out dead."

Mirkk saw Pig Eyes had a necklace of freshly sliced ears dangling around his neck - freshly cut pointed ears. It caused Mirkk to think of everything that just happened, had happened over the past two years, and would likely continue until his death. He quickly moved to the side railing and retched.

He could hear Pig Eyes bursting into raucous laughter behind him. Mirkk moved to wipe his mouth, but only managed to smear blood from his arm across his lips. He furrowed his brow, his heart racing as he spat, frantically trying to clear his mouth of the blood. He retched again.

Mirkk bolted upright in the night.

"What's wrong?" Her voice broke the through the darkness. He exhaled slowly.

"I'm sorry. I'm not keeping you up, am I? I just..." He paused, as if trying to collect his thoughts. "It was just a dream. I'm sorry."

"A nightmare?" She asked, concern in her voice.

"Yes," he confirmed tensely. He could sense her rising, sitting next to him.

"Would you like to talk about it? Was it the krolvin again?"

He heard the rain pattering through glass-paned balcony doors of their room in Firefly Villa, interrupted occasionally by the sound of distant thunder.

"It was all manner of things. I can't seem to…" his words tapered off as he glanced around into the night as if hoping to find some answer. "It was all very piecemeal. I remember Liabo waxing and waning rapidly. And town. There was an animal in decomposition right outside the -"

He felt her hand gently resting on the back of his head, her fingers softly running through his hair to comfort him. "An animal outside.." she carefully urged him to continue.

"Right outside the courtyard of the Library," he said faintly. "Then I was back on the ships rowing, and - " He paused. He couldn't possibly tell her the next part of the dream. She'd never look at him the same. She would see him as a monster - unforgiveable. She would hate him. After all, he hated himself.

"I'm so sorry. I know this was supposed to be our time together, away from all the distractions. I don't know -"

"Shhh," she whispered softly. "Come. Lie down." He laid beside her and she held him, cradling his head in her arms as she tried to lull him back to sleep.

Captive

It was becoming difficult to breathe. The burlap sack over his head made the already humid sea air seem heavier. Through the porous burlap sack over his head, he couldn't see anything, complicated further by the faintness of morning nautical twilight, but he could hear.

He heard the barking of orders in Krolgeh. He heard in broken common the inquiry, "Row or die?" He heard the voice of the captain of the merchant vessel openly defy the demand. He heard the gasp of the captain and the thud of something heavy landing on the deck. He heard the repeated question over and over again as the krolvin made their way down the line of survivors.

He knew if he defied, he would die. There would be no resistance. The jute rope seemed to tighten, cutting into his wrists as he attempted to test the knots. He knew the only hope for ever returning home would be to live, and in order to live, he would have to row.

The sack was suddenly yanked off his head and he squinted at the light of the sun breaking the horizon over the land to the east. As his eyes began to adjust, he heard the same question asked of him - "Row or die?"

He looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of his captor. In that moment, he felt someone behind him stripping him of his valuables, including the rolaren-linked bracelet around his wrist. He glared over his shoulder. This must have amused his captors, as the krovlin before him reached back and punched him squarely in the stomach. Already on his knees, he slumped forward, his face landing on the sea-worn deck.

Strong hands pulled him back to a kneeling position as he wheezed. He must have found some favor with his captors, as he was afforded a second chance to answer the question - something the others hadn't been granted. "Row, or die?" the voice said with a little more malice.

"Row," escaped his lips without any further thought. The krolvin before him with beady eyes nodded approvingly as he fixed the bracelet - his bracelet, the one Velianna had given him - to his wrist. The krolvin moved to the next one in line, a sailor of the vessel. Mirkk felt the rummaging hands continue to search him, removing anything of value they could find. His heart raced.

Mirkk quickly sat upright, his heart thumping in his chest. The morning light was shining through the large open windows of the retreat to which Rohese had brought him for their six month anniversary. His eyes searched the room for her, but didn't find her. He noticed her open diary on the table. He slipped on his trousers, rose, walked over and read the delicate handwriting. With a concerned look, he curiously flipped the page back to the previous entry.

He furrowed his brow as he felt an ache in his heart.

No secrets.

His heart felt heavy as he thought, "How do I ask forgiveness from her when I can't forgive myself?"

"No. She is hurting. Now is not the time."

”Until It Sleeps” ~ Metallica