Christopher Kellen - Elegy

“So, in order to do that, there were great experiments done to determine how men could be immunized against the power of the manna. A great many men, women and children died in the search of that end, until they discovered the way.”

He recited the formula from memory, the same words that had been told to him all those years ago. When he had heard them the first time, they had affixed themselves to his memory in a way that he knew would never fade, not even if he were to live one hundred winters. “To create an Arbiter, a person must be exposed to the manna over a period of several years, in extremely small doses. These must be administered directly to the heart of the person who is being ordained, via a small, rounded blade – known as the heartblade – that is slipped between the ribs and used to touch the heart. Over time, the dosage grows, and eventually a resistance is attained.” They sounded as cold, as clinical to him now as they had the first time he’d heard them. “This process never ends; we must be regularly exposed directly to the manna via the heartblade.” The ritual, though at first painful and terrifying, was now little more than drinking a glass of water to him, although slightly more painful.

Mikel’ eyes were wide as he listened to the story. “So… you have to stab yourself in the heart over and over again?”

“That’s exactly right,” D’Arden said.

“Why would you do something like that?”

“There are many reasons, lad. One is because the world is a dangerous place, and it needs people who are willing to sacrifice themselves to protect it. Another is because my life would be meaningless without this purpose to drive it forward. Mostly, it is because there are those out there who would seek to corrupt the world, and I do not intend to let something like that happen. My pain and my strength are my sacrifice to help keep the land a little safer from those who would seek to do it harm.”

“That’s awful,” Mikel said.

“Perhaps, but it is the truth,” D’Arden said. “Sometimes the truth is horrifying.”

“I don’t think I could ever do something like that,” Mikel said.

“You likely could not,” D’Arden replied. “The reason that most Arbiters are started at a very young age is because it is so that the manna begins its effects on them while they are still malleable, while their souls are still able to be touched by the power without it destroying them. Starting when one is older is far more difficult, and not in the least because the heartblade is excruciatingly painful at first. Some Arbiters, when they go too long without being exposed to the heartblade as they are supposed to, go quite mad.”

“Do you think that’s what happened to the one that came here a few years ago?” the boy asked.

D’Arden frowned. He didn’t know how to answer that question. He wasn’t certain how he could tell the boy that no matter what he’d told the captain, there was a chance that it was that very Arbiter that was either the force responsible for this entire miserable catastrophe here in the city, or that he could be very well working with the demon. There were too many unknowns here, some of which he hoped to resolve with this trip to the most dangerous part of the city.

It wasn't long before D'Arden and the boy stood before the gate. The boy stopped a few steps before they passed under the arch, clearly hesitant to proceed any further. D'Arden slowed to a halt only a few steps ahead of Mikel and stared up at the great stone structure.

CALESSA HEIGHTS, read the spindly, gothic lettering that adorned the front of the city gate. It was similar the one he'd passed through upon entering the city, but for the lack of the heavy wooden doors that kept out intruders from the outside. The gate itself appeared normal enough, but it was when his eyes ventured out into the city beyond the portal that he felt a chill run down his spine.

Clearly it was not long ago that this area was the richest part of the city. There was still a feeling of wealth that pervaded the design and decorations on the buildings, and yet everything had fallen into ruin. Despite the cheerful and bright adornments around windows and doorways, all of them were faded and tattered. The place looked little better than a slum. D'Arden guessed that the slums might, in fact, look nicer than this place.

"It's a horrid place," Mikel said with a shudder. "Not many go in and out of here anymore. Even the soldiers avoid it. For some reason, most of the beasts stay inside… none of us are quite sure why. When one does get out, it's always at night – and we always have guards posted outside at night to keep them in."

D'Arden knew exactly why the fel beasts stayed inside the gate.

There was already plenty to feed on.

"They won't stay in there forever," D'Arden said solemnly. "Once the food supply runs out in there, they'll be coming out, searching for sustenance."

"The food supply?" Mikel said. "There hasn't been any supplies going into there in months."

D'Arden simply looked at the boy, his manna-blue eyes searching for the light of understanding. After a moment, it seemed to dawn on Mikel, and he looked horrified. "You… you can't mean…"

"I'm afraid I do," the Arbiter said.

"We have to do something! You mean there are still people in there?"

"Most likely," D'Arden said grimly. "Although I would imagine that not many are left, if this has been going on for months. It's likely that any we were to rescue now would be long lost from the reaches of sanity."

Mikel’s complexion had taken on a bit of a green tint, but D'Arden found that he had little sympathy for the boy. They lived in a horrid place, in terrible times, and it confounded him how this young soldier could have clung to his innocence for so long. D'Arden had no choice but to give the parents some credit… to raise a child so naive in a place like this would have taken devoted parenting.

"What did you expect, boy?" D'Arden asked, finding his voice harsher than he'd intended. "That we would simply ride in there and save the day? That it would be simple, straightforward, that we could enter this living hell and rescue those who might be left alive, and they would be perfectly fine and grateful for our help?" He shook his head. "Those are tales for children. Things don't happen like that in this world. We'll be lucky if we find anyone beyond this gate who isn't dead or already turned into one of those horrid beasts, but if we do, it's a near certainty that they'll be stark raving mad at best."

"Then… why do we want to go in there at all?" Mikel said. "If there's no one left to rescue…"

"We go in there not to rescue, not to save the lives that are already lost," D'Arden said. "We proceed beyond this gate only because a concentration of fel beasts so high likely means that this will be either the demon's hiding place, or his source of energy. Either way, we stand to discover valuable clues regarding its whereabouts, and that is the most important task right now."

Mikel swallowed hard and drew his sword. The steel rung loudly in the still air as the shining blade came forth from its resting place. He held it a bit unsteadily, as though he were well trained but only in drills. D'Arden doubted if he'd even taken a life before in his short time.

"Have you ever used that blade?" the Arbiter asked.

"Only in drills," the boy answered, confirming his suspicions.

"Are you ready to use it today?"

Only for a moment did Mikel hesitate. "I am."

"Good," D'Arden said. "Because you're going to need it."

Together, they took the first step across the threshold into Calessa Heights.

The streets were desolate and lonely in the high quarter of the city. Dust blew in the wind, stirring up into small devils and then quickly settling again before picking up once more a few feet away. There were no sounds except for the rustling of their cloth and the sounds of their feet against the cobblestones. The ornately designed buildings were dusty and bedraggled, seeming almost to be relics of a lost age. In a way, D'Arden thought, perhaps they were.