Revan looked around. He was back in the dark place. A faint beam of light barely illuminated him, allowing him to see only his body. Every time he said the prayer, the ring of light got smaller. Darkness swallowed everything else. Apart from Him. A humanoid silhouette stood out from the darkness, despite it being just as dark as the surroundings. Every time Revan would visit this place, He would be a step close to him. He never spoke or did anything, apart from standing motionless in the darkness. And still, Revan was petrified of Him. He didn’t know when it happened, but He got close enough for Revan to see something that resembled a mouth. A row of hungry blood-red teeth, seemingly always pointing at Revan.
Revan’s mouth snapped open, but it wasn’t his voice that uttered the prayer. He didn’t speak it, but still, the prayer came to life.
Lord of Shadows,
Thee who live in the ground, wind, and water,
God whose name men had cast into the fire;
I call upon Thee and beg Thee;
Take my body and soul.
Take my heart and name.
Give me the strength to obey your wishes.
Give me life to carry out your revenge.
I ask for nought, but to be in service of Thee;
For today and eternity to pass.
Revan opened his eyes, drawing air into his cold lungs. A sensation of pain in his chest overwhelmed him, leaving him confused. He violently shook his head, and slowly, the smears of colours took shape. He was in a large wide room filled with long tables and chairs. There were extinguished chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, although the fire in the hearth was enough to illuminate the room.
There were two dozen men surrounding Revan. They looked at him in horror and disbelief. They formed somewhat of a circle around him, except for one man, who was standing directly in front of Revan. He had a lean and slender statue and a face that resembled a rat. The man’s eyes were wide open, just like his mouth. He was staring at Revan. Then the man’s eyes went down to Revan’s chest.
Slowly coming to his senses, Revan glanced down as well. A hilt of a dagger was protruding from his chest.
“Oh…” Revan whispered. He grabbed the dagger and slowly pulled it from his heart. Immediately, he felt his flesh merging and soon he heard a familiar rhythmic sound. His heart was beating again.
“Merciful God!” the rat-like man cried out, nearly falling to the ground as he took a step back. “He’s a deadwalker. A deadwalker!” He shouted but the other men stood in silence. Their eyes were still staring at Revan in utter disbelief.
Revan didn’t know who the rat-man was. Nor did he care. The dagger, one smeared with his blood, was surprisingly light and well-balanced.
He hurled it at the rat-man. It went straight into his throat, tip-first. Panicking, the small man grabbed the dagger, but when he tried to pull it out, he only cut his throat even more. In the next moment, he was on the ground, twisting and turning, while spewing blood out of the hole in his neck.
After the man had stopped moving, the other men in the room regained their wits. “Kill him!” the smartest of them shouted. Some of them drew out their swords.
“Kill the daemon from Vallasca!”
Where the hell am I? Revan thought as he dodged a sword. He grabbed the attacking man’s wrist, keeping the sharp blade away from him, and slammed his fist into the man’s stomach. The man coughed blood all over him. Surprised, Revan looked at his fist. There were certain benefits of being reborn. Revan was stronger and faster, above all else. He was brimming with energy, eager to jump and kill. He laughed at other men who were charging at him.
One man, younger than the rest, jumped over the table, trying to land a hit from above. Revan grabbed the sword with his bare hand in mid-air. It cut him a little bit, but he successfully stopped the blade. He pulled it, making the young man lose his balance. The man tripped, and Revan welcomed him by hitting him in the neck. In the corner of his eye, he saw another man throwing a dagger at him. Revan responded by picking up the suffocating man from the ground and using him as a shield. The dagger buried deep in the man’s chest, and Revan let him fall to the ground.
The rest froze in their place. They all looked at Revan, afraid to move, but also at each other. Nobody moved.
“Someone, get the Shire-Reeve!”
The man closest to the door nodded and started running.
“Oh no-“. Revan snatched the dagger from the man’s chest and threw it back at the running man. It hit him in the back of the palm, sticking his hand to the door, just inches away from the handle. “Nobody gets to leave. We’re just starting to have fun!”
Revan extended his right hand. It was another one of His gifts. The very air around Revan’s hand started to fizzle and two dark red lines appeared. They went one parallel to the other until one broke and connected with the other. They made a shape of a sword. The inside was filled with black metal that didn’t reflect any of the light.
The sword weight almost nothing. It allowed Revan to be quick.
#
“Phew!” Revan sighed, swiping the sweat from his forehead. Jumping around the room and killing everyone in it was surprisingly tiring. He was standing in front of the door, looking back. The ground was littered with dead, dismembered men. He even managed to cut a few chairs in two parts. He raised his brow, surprised. The last one was the man whose hand was stuck to the door. He begged and cried as Revan walked towards him. Gently, Revan thrust his blade into the man’s chest. There was no resistance, even when the blade reached the door behind. The crying man died instantly. When he had released the grip of the sword, the blade vanished into thin air, as quickly and mysteriously as it had appeared.
There was a backdoor that led to the kitchen. He was sure the cook’s daughter was somewhere behind, hidden and shaking in fear. But Revan didn’t care to go and finish the job. He was tired. After all, he had killed the cook, her father. His head was two feet apart from his neck.
Groaning in exhaustion, Revan pushed open the door. The light from the hearth illuminated a small part of the yard in front of the tavern. Revan, and the tavern, were in the middle of… nowhere. A small dirt road, surrounded by shrubbery, extended east and west of the tavern.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake…” Revan cursed as he walked out. He didn’t know where he was. While being cursed by Him had some surprising benefits, not everything was nice and smooth for Revan. He… didn’t know things. Like where he was headed, whom he was looking for, or, well, his true name. Every time he died and got brought back to life, his memory got riddled with holes. Maybe the gaps in his memory were minor in the beginning, but by now, Revan could only remember the name “Revan” and a few other cloudy moments from his past lives. And Him of course. The man in the shadows. Revan didn’t know his true name; nobody seemed to do. But every time Revan would die, and who knows how many times that had happened, Revan would say the prayer with his dying breath.
And He would bring him back.
“Well, I can’t just stand here all night, can I now?” Revan said as if he were talking to someone.
A horse neighed nearby. Revan smiled.
However, the horse wasn’t illuminated by the light from the tavern. And since it was night outside, Revan could only see its silhouette, but it was in shadows.
Grunting, Revan went back inside. He returned after a moment, holding an oil lamp. He struck a match, and suddenly, the yard in front of the tavern got some light. The horse was white, with a couple of dark patches.
“Oh, you’re a beauty, aren’t you?” Revan whispered smoothly as he neared the horse. It was afraid, nervously pacing around. It wanted to go away, but the rope held the horse in place. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to be afraid of me!”
The horse stared at him. It neighed as if wanting to protest. However, after a moment, it allowed Revan to come closer.
“You see? I am not that scary…”
The horse wasn’t staring at him, he realised. Revan glanced back. The horse was looking at the shadows around the tavern. The hearth inside seemed to be extinguishing, and the inside was pitch-black.
“What are you looking at, girl?” Revan whispered, feeling cold chills throughout his body. He shivered and fastened the saddle onto the mare. Gripping the lamp, he climbed onto the horse. “All those poor souls inside… trapped with him” Revan whispered.
Something protested deep within him. He had to fight the fear. He had to do something.
Revan tore a piece of his shirt and submerged it partly into one of the bottles with oil he brought with the lamp. He left one end of the cloth outside. Using the light inside his lamp, he lit the cloth before throwing the bottle at the tavern. After a moment, the wall burst with flames. The fire should swallow the whole tavern in moments.
Revan owed them at least that.
Revan jerked the reins and he made the mare walk away from the burning tavern. Holding the lamp high, Revan noticed a sign next to the road.
Alsbeck, three leagues
He shrugged. “I guess we’re going to Alsbeck, dear,” he said to the horse, petting it. The night was cloudy, depriving the whole land of moonlight and starlight. Revan wanted to think that it was just a coincidence. His arm started to ache from holding the lamp so high, but he pushed through it. He wouldn’t sleep this night either. Revan was too afraid.
