Chapter 15 Chapter 12 Desperation
Joram ran on, though nothing was chasing him.
Perhaps it should be said that as far as the eye can see, there is nothing chasing him, nothing physically chasing him, nothing physical chasing him.The marshals couldn't have come here so quickly, the rest of the village would protect him, buy him some time, he wasn't in danger.
However, he still ran fast.
It wasn't until his aching legs began to cramp that he finally fell to the ground, realizing that he would never be free from the dark object that was always tormenting and chasing him, that he would never be free from himself.
How long he had been lying in the forest, Joram had no idea afterwards.He had no idea where he was.In a blur, he only remembered seeing many plants and intertwined trees.He thought he heard the muffled murmur of water somewhere.The only thing that felt real to him was the soil under his cheek, the pain in his leg, and the fear in his soul.
While he was lying on the ground waiting for the pain to go away, the calm and rational part of his heart told him to get up immediately and move on.But beneath Joram's cool, sane surface lurks a dark presence, a dark monster of his own creation that he keeps chained and guarded most of the time.But every once in a while a monster would break free and take over his consciousness, completely dictating his every move.
As the night fell, and the young man lay tired and afraid in the field, Joram's dark side was released with the coming of the night; free again, it jumped out of the corner, bared its sharp teeth at him, and pulled his The soul is dragged aside to gnaw and ravage wantonly.
Joram didn't get up, a feeling of numbness and paralysis filled his body, just like waking up from a deep sleep in the morning.It felt good, the pain left his leg, and soon all the sensations left his body; Feel whether you are lying on the ground, or in the biting cold wind of the night, or hungry, thirsty.Although his body was in a deep sleep, his mind remained awake like a dream.
He was a little boy again, curled up at the feet of his father's stone statue, feeling the warm, bitter tears splashing on him.Then the tears became his hair, and the long hair curled around his face and fell down his back; mother's fingers tugged and tore the strands, snapping the tangles.The mother's fingers suddenly turned into some kind of animal's claws, pulling and tearing the overseer forcefully, tearing his life apart.
The stone statue of his father turned into a stone in Joram's hand.The cold, stinging stone screamed suddenly, turned into a toy, jumped and danced between his fingers, and then seemed to disappear in mid-air suddenly.But from the beginning to the end, the stone was safely held in his palm, hidden in a place where no one could see.He has been hiding the stone until today, the stone in his hand has grown so big that he can no longer hide it, so he throws the stone far away...
It's just that the stone flew back again, and then he turned back into a little boy again...
Night has come, and then day is in the sky.Or maybe day and night have already alternated once.
The darkness in his soul overwhelmed him. Anya called Joram the curse of darkness. This curse had been tormenting him since he was twelve years old, and no power could control it; he could not fight against it. For days, he'd lie in his hammock, oblivious to everything, not even his mother's mad attempts to force him to eat or walk in the real world.
Anya will never understand what brought him back to the real world from this dark time.Joran sat up suddenly like this, and looked at the cabin and her painfully, as if blaming her for why she wanted to return to the real world.Then, with a sigh, he returned to normal life, but it looked like he had just wrestled with a demon.
But this time, he sank far deeper than before, and nothing seemed to be able to pull him back.The calm, sane part of his mind was ready to give up the struggle, when suddenly an ally came to help the mind out of the quagmire and danger.
At first Joram noticed only the discomfort of being interrupted, but the next thing he felt was a burst of excruciating pain in his knees that tore through his body and took his breath away.Joram gasped, groaned, and turned on his back in pain.
"He's still alive."
Consciousness moves through the misty pain, out of the dark shadows.Joram looked up at the source of the hoarse voice, and saw vaguely a face covered in greasy, tangled hair.Perhaps the owner of this face was once a human being, but now it has degenerated into some kind of bestial and cruel creature.Hair covered its human arms and chest, but the foot that was kicking Joram was not human, but a bestial cloven hoof.
The severe pain sent his nerves, body and thoughts back to the real world, and he regained his sense of sight and touch again. The first consciousness that hit his heart was fear.The sharp animal hooves stood in front of him, and when he raised his head, he saw the half-human, half-horse half-human, half-horse body of the centaur looming above his body.The image of the centaur's sharp hooves crushing his own head suddenly appeared in Joram's mind. This sense of fear became his stimulant, but it was nothing more than that.His muscles were stiff from inactivity, and his body was weak from lack of food.Gritting his teeth, Joram finally tried to stand on his hands and knees, but felt another hoof crush his ribs.He stretched out on all fours and fell headfirst into the thick undergrowth ahead.
He was stabbed to the bone, so painful that he couldn't breathe. He was panting hard, and the sound of animal hooves approached.A large hand grabbed Joram by the collar and pulled him to his feet.Joram's gait was unsteady, the blood circulating in his legs again, and he nearly fell, but another hand picked him up, and bound his hands behind his back quickly and skillfully.
a grunt. "Move forward, human."
Joram took a step forward, staggered and fell, blood dripping from his paralyzed thigh to the ground.
The big hand pulled Joram up again and pushed him forward.The pain in his ribs was slowly burning up like a flame, the ground shook under his unsteady steps, and the trees seemed to be falling on him.He staggered forward, but then stumbled and fell in the dust, hitting the ground hard.His arms were bound, unable to touch the ground with his hands, and he rolled in the mud.
The centaurs laughed. "Move," said one of them.
They pulled him up again.
"Water," whispered Joram through parched lips, his tongue shriveled and withered.
The centaurs grinned with yellow teeth on their furry faces. "Water?" repeated one of them.Raising a thick arm, he pointed somewhere Joram could barely stand on his shaky legs.He turned his head and could almost see the river glistening through the leaves of the bushes. "Run," said a centaur.
"Run! Human! Run!" Another centaur roared with a smile.
Joram had to gamble.He ran forward staggeringly, hearing the hooves of the centaur jogging beside him, and he could even feel the breathing behind him.The strong, foul-smelling beast breath nearly suffocated him. He was getting closer and closer to the river, but he felt that his strength was slowly fading. In almost hopeless situations, he knew that the centaurs would never let him reach it. riverside.
Once human, these creatures were magically mutated humans by the sorcerers of the sect of Dikonduke, the Pyrowarriors of the Way of Fire, and sent to fight in the War of Steel.It was later confirmed that the war was costly and almost destroyed the entire world. The surviving wizards almost exhausted all their life force, and their catalyst saints were also exhausted and could no longer absorb life. Power.Unable to cast spells to convert these creatures back to humans, the Fire Warlords of the sect of Dikonduke abandoned their mutant soldiers, exiling them to the land of alienation.Here, the centaurs were reborn, and they bred with other animals or captive humans to create a race that had lost all humanity and almost all emotion in the struggle to survive.That said, there is one human emotion that still thrives between them after centuries of nurturing and cherishing—hate.
Even if the reasons for hating humans had faded from the minds of these centaurs who did not understand the history of their creation, they still knew one thing: torturing and killing humans gave them a deep, visceral sense of joy.
Joram staggered to a halt, his head overturned with the idea of fighting the centaur, and at once a hand struck him hard in the face, knocking him to the ground.Lying on the ground, the pain haunting him, the calm and rational part of Joram's thoughts said to him, "Die, end this quickly! Anyway, nothing matters anymore."
He heard hooves kicking the ground all around him, and one fell hard on him.Although he heard the sound of bones breaking, he didn't feel any pain.Slowly and resolutely he stood up again, and the centaurs knocked him down again, kicking wildly at him, breaking his bones and slicing his flesh.
He tasted blood...
A cold voice brought Joram back to reality, and he felt his lips stung by cold water. "Can we save him?" "I don't know. He's almost done." "At least he is still conscious, which is a good sign." The cold voice continued. "Are there any signs of a head injury?" Joram felt a hand on his head, rough, careless fingers pressed against his skull, and his eyes were pushed open. "No, I guess they intend to keep him alive as long as possible, so that they can enjoy the fun of torturing him." After a while of silence, the voice continued: "How? Should we take him back and hand him over to Heisuo? " There was another silence. "Take him back." The cold voice finally said. "He's young and strong, and it will be worth our trouble to bring him back to camp and splint his broken bones like the old man taught you." "Do you think he is the one who killed the overseer?" A voice very close to Joram suddenly rang in his ears. The speaker's rough hands grabbed Joram's limbs, and the sudden sharp pain made him almost speechless. "Of course he is, otherwise why did he come here? This makes him more valuable. If one day he becomes our big trouble, the black lock can still hand him over to the relevant authorities. He used to be a law enforcement officer. The communication channels are still there." The cold voice said calmly. There was a crisp cracking sound of bones.The darkness was dyed blood red and revolved around Joram, and he kept shouting in the direction of the cold voice, trying to drive away the darkness that was about to cover him. "Hurry up! Put him on the back of the camel, and tell him to shut up and stop screaming. There may be other centaur hunting groups on the border." The cold voice said angrily. "I think we don't need to worry about him screaming anymore, look at him, he's finished." Incomprehensible words disappeared in the distance. He felt himself being lifted... He felt himself falling... Accompanied by the noisy sound of running water, day and night staggered and passed alternately.Day and night the vague consciousness of sailing on the water like a dream, day and night struggling to regain consciousness, but always being attacked by pain and forgotten painful sensations; day and night falling into a coma, always desperately praying Never wake up again. Then a vague perception told him that the journey was over, and he returned to the ground again.He was in a strange house. Anya came to see him, knelt beside him and combed his tangled black hair, and told him the story of Merilon, the beauty of Merilon, and the wonder of Merilon. He could almost describe it in his mind. Everything about Marilon.He saw spiral roofs of crystal, and sailboats pulled by fantastic animals floating in mid-air on the currents.The dream continued, he was very happy, his pain was temporarily relieved, but when he felt the pain again, the dream became distorted and terrifying; Anya turned into some kind of creature with fangs and claws, trying to tear apart His chest, ripping out his heart. Outside of his dreams and pain, there are always some strange sounds, which sound like the breathing of a giant, and the knocking sound like a big bell that has not been tuned, and the gathering of snakes. hiss.Flames sprang up and burned blazingly before his eyes, burning away the twisted and beautiful scene of Merilon. But at last darkness and stillness came, and at last a peaceful sleep.Finally one day, he opened his eyes and looked around.Anya and Merilon were gone, only an old woman was sitting beside him, and the knocking sound still came from his ears. "You have come a long way, Dark One," said the old woman, smoothing Joram's black hair with her hand. "This long journey almost takes you to the realm of the afterlife. The healer does her best, but without the catalyst saints giving her the power of life, what she can do is very limited." Joram tried to sit up, but found that his arms and legs were bound tightly. "Untie me." He growled hoarsely, trying to drown out the pounding knocking.The sound came from nearby, apparently outside the cabin. "No, boy, you're not tied up," said the old woman, smiling, interested in Joram's reaction. "Don't move around, lie down. You have a leg broken in two, an arm almost twisted off, and several smashed ribs. Those restraints are actually connecting the broken parts of your body, young People." The smile on her face turned into a smile full of pride. "My husband invented it when he was young, because the healers in the village don't have the help of the Catalyst Saints, and it's the only thing we can do for you. These splints hold broken bones in place so they can heal themselves." Joram slumped back on the bed, bewildered, suspicious, but too tired to justify or fight.A constant knocking sound seemed to start coming from his head.The old woman saw the twitching muscles in Joram's face and reached out to pat him. "It's the hammering of the furnace. You'll get used to it before long. I can't hear it at all until it stops. I think you'll be working there too, lad," she added, raising her feet. rise. "You look strong, I bet you must be used to heavy work, I can tell by your callused hands, we need young men with a strong physique like you. Don't talk about that now, I'll go ahead You drink some clear soup, if you have an appetite." Joram nodded.The bandages tickled him, and the wound ached a little when he moved, but then he felt an arm under his head and something touched his lips.He opened his eyes and saw the old woman holding a bowl and a strange utensil in her hand.She picked up the utensil and brought a spoonful of clear soup from the bowl to his mouth.The clear soup tasted salty, but the taste was not bad. A warm feeling rose from his body, and he swallowed the clear soup with a gurgling sound. "Okay, don't drink too much, your stomach is not used to eating and drinking, you have to sleep for a while." The old woman helped Joran to lie down again. How could he have fallen asleep amidst such a cacophony of horrible noises? "What's a furnace?" he asked wearily. "You will soon find out, Dark One," she said, bending over him with a benevolent smile.As she leaned over, Joram noticed that something bound by a silver chain had slipped from under her blouse, dangling before his eyes.Joram recognized it as a pendant of some sort, and he remembered Anya had mentioned earlier the shining jewels worn by the people of Merilon.However, this is not a shining jewel, the pendant is rough, hollow and circular, made of wood sculpture, with nine tiny spokes in the middle. Noticing the way Joran was looking at her pendant, the old woman reached out and touched the pendant lightly, caressing the pendant proudly like a queen caressing her precious jewels. "Where am I?" asked Joram drowsily, feeling as though he were returning to that dreadful journey again, and the flood was about to sweep him away. "We are a group of practitioners of the Ninth Tribe. According to some people, we will bring death and destruction to Simharon." The old woman's tone was very sad, like a river whispering.Her voice seemed to come from a distance, muffled by the roaring knocking outside.His consciousness was floating on the water, and the old woman's voice sounded again, whispering like a breeze. "We are believers in the reincarnation witch religion."
Notes:
A cold voice brought Joram back to reality, and he felt his lips stung by cold water. "Can we save him?" "I don't know. He's almost done." "At least he is still conscious, which is a good sign." The cold voice continued. "Are there any signs of a head injury?" Joram felt a hand on his head, rough, careless fingers pressed against his skull, and his eyes were pushed open. "No, I guess they intend to keep him alive as long as possible, so that they can enjoy the fun of torturing him." After a while of silence, the voice continued: "How? Should we take him back and hand him over to Heisuo? " There was another silence. "Take him back." The cold voice finally said. "He's young and strong, and it will be worth our trouble to bring him back to camp and splint his broken bones like the old man taught you." "Do you think he is the one who killed the overseer?" A voice very close to Joram suddenly rang in his ears. The speaker's rough hands grabbed Joram's limbs, and the sudden sharp pain made him almost speechless. "Of course he is, otherwise why did he come here? This makes him more valuable. If one day he becomes our big trouble, the black lock can still hand him over to the relevant authorities. He used to be a law enforcement officer. The communication channels are still there." The cold voice said calmly. There was a crisp cracking sound of bones.The darkness was dyed blood red and revolved around Joram, and he kept shouting in the direction of the cold voice, trying to drive away the darkness that was about to cover him. "Hurry up! Put him on the back of the camel, and tell him to shut up and stop screaming. There may be other centaur hunting groups on the border." The cold voice said angrily. "I think we don't need to worry about him screaming anymore, look at him, he's finished." Incomprehensible words disappeared in the distance. He felt himself being lifted... He felt himself falling... Accompanied by the noisy sound of running water, day and night staggered and passed alternately.Day and night the vague consciousness of sailing on the water like a dream, day and night struggling to regain consciousness, but always being attacked by pain and forgotten painful sensations; day and night falling into a coma, always desperately praying Never wake up again. Then a vague perception told him that the journey was over, and he returned to the ground again.He was in a strange house. Anya came to see him, knelt beside him and combed his tangled black hair, and told him the story of Merilon, the beauty of Merilon, and the wonder of Merilon. He could almost describe it in his mind. Everything about Marilon.He saw spiral roofs of crystal, and sailboats pulled by fantastic animals floating in mid-air on the currents.The dream continued, he was very happy, his pain was temporarily relieved, but when he felt the pain again, the dream became distorted and terrifying; Anya turned into some kind of creature with fangs and claws, trying to tear apart His chest, ripping out his heart. Outside of his dreams and pain, there are always some strange sounds, which sound like the breathing of a giant, and the knocking sound like a big bell that has not been tuned, and the gathering of snakes. hiss.Flames sprang up and burned blazingly before his eyes, burning away the twisted and beautiful scene of Merilon. But at last darkness and stillness came, and at last a peaceful sleep.Finally one day, he opened his eyes and looked around.Anya and Merilon were gone, only an old woman was sitting beside him, and the knocking sound still came from his ears. "You have come a long way, Dark One," said the old woman, smoothing Joram's black hair with her hand. "This long journey almost takes you to the realm of the afterlife. The healer does her best, but without the catalyst saints giving her the power of life, what she can do is very limited." Joram tried to sit up, but found that his arms and legs were bound tightly. "Untie me." He growled hoarsely, trying to drown out the pounding knocking.The sound came from nearby, apparently outside the cabin. "No, boy, you're not tied up," said the old woman, smiling, interested in Joram's reaction. "Don't move around, lie down. You have a leg broken in two, an arm almost twisted off, and several smashed ribs. Those restraints are actually connecting the broken parts of your body, young People." The smile on her face turned into a smile full of pride. "My husband invented it when he was young, because the healers in the village don't have the help of the Catalyst Saints, and it's the only thing we can do for you. These splints hold broken bones in place so they can heal themselves." Joram slumped back on the bed, bewildered, suspicious, but too tired to justify or fight.A constant knocking sound seemed to start coming from his head.The old woman saw the twitching muscles in Joram's face and reached out to pat him. "It's the hammering of the furnace. You'll get used to it before long. I can't hear it at all until it stops. I think you'll be working there too, lad," she added, raising her feet. rise. "You look strong, I bet you must be used to heavy work, I can tell by your callused hands, we need young men with a strong physique like you. Don't talk about that now, I'll go ahead You drink some clear soup, if you have an appetite." Joram nodded.The bandages tickled him, and the wound ached a little when he moved, but then he felt an arm under his head and something touched his lips.He opened his eyes and saw the old woman holding a bowl and a strange utensil in her hand.She picked up the utensil and brought a spoonful of clear soup from the bowl to his mouth.The clear soup tasted salty, but the taste was not bad. A warm feeling rose from his body, and he swallowed the clear soup with a gurgling sound. "Okay, don't drink too much, your stomach is not used to eating and drinking, you have to sleep for a while." The old woman helped Joran to lie down again. How could he have fallen asleep amidst such a cacophony of horrible noises? "What's a furnace?" he asked wearily. "You will soon find out, Dark One," she said, bending over him with a benevolent smile.As she leaned over, Joram noticed that something bound by a silver chain had slipped from under her blouse, dangling before his eyes.Joram recognized it as a pendant of some sort, and he remembered Anya had mentioned earlier the shining jewels worn by the people of Merilon.However, this is not a shining jewel, the pendant is rough, hollow and circular, made of wood sculpture, with nine tiny spokes in the middle. Noticing the way Joran was looking at her pendant, the old woman reached out and touched the pendant lightly, caressing the pendant proudly like a queen caressing her precious jewels. "Where am I?" asked Joram drowsily, feeling as though he were returning to that dreadful journey again, and the flood was about to sweep him away. "We are a group of practitioners of the Ninth Tribe. According to some people, we will bring death and destruction to Simharon." The old woman's tone was very sad, like a river whispering.Her voice seemed to come from a distance, muffled by the roaring knocking outside.His consciousness was floating on the water, and the old woman's voice sounded again, whispering like a breeze. "We are believers in the reincarnation witch religion."
Notes: