The Raging Storm

Chapter Nine: Memories Of The Past

Ansel Narth floated in complete and utter darkness. The ramblings of a thousand thoughts floated on the outside of his consciousness."Are those my thoughts?" His voice echoed.

Colors swirled all around him, forming different memories from his past. A long hall with walls full of rich red tapestries that held the sigil of the Foundlings. The same ebony pattern that marked his arms. Many men and women with the same markings shared a meal. One familiar face stood out among the crowd. Sera - his adoptive older sister. After his parents passed away, she always had his back, even after his childhood misadventures. She protected him as a big sister would. The only family he had left. She was the reason he'd joined the Foundlings in the first place. One of the thoughts on the outside of his consciousness thrashed with sadness and despair. He called out to her but she couldn't hear him. He hoped in the depths of his soul that she was alive.

Colors dissipated into many strands that rearranged themselves into a full scene. Another memory. He floated helplessly in the weightless blackness while the picture formed.

His mother, sick in his arms. Her hand pressed against his boyish face of thirteen. He held her in his arms. Her frail body lay on her wooden bed while he kneeled next to her. Lines coursed across her face from exertion. Each breath rattled her chest with phlegm. Only thirty-five years old, but her hair was already streaked with gray strands. For the last few years of her life, she'd been sick with Ilygorum, a deadly aging disease.

Tears flowed from his eyes. "Don't leave me mother, not with him."

Behind him, pots and plates in the kitchen smashed against the walls. Another one of his father's drunken rampages. Ansel clenched his jaw, holding back the molten fury that threatened to break loose. She lays here dying and he's searching for another bottle.

Her hand caressed his cheek, wiping away his tears. Her eyes glazed over, and her pupils shook. Raising her hand, she stroked his white hair. "The Narth blood runs strong in you. You're such a handsome young man-" She coughed violently. Scarlet droplets speckled her palm. She made no effort to hide them as she lowered her hand.

"Save your breath mother." He cleaned her with a cloth from nearby. "I will go and get the healer." He moved to leave. Her frail hand suddenly became strong, holding his arm.

"Don't. We don't have enough marks to pay her." A tear lay in the corner of her eye.

"Get me..." The voice hiccuped. "Another bottle boy."

Ansel clenched his fists. He turned to face his father. Tan-skinned and white hair just like him. Drunkenness was all that distinguished them.

"How can you care about the bottle? Your wife is dying? I bloody hate you." Ansel ran at him, attempting to do anything to hurt the man. A loud smack and a flash of pain met him. He took his hand from his stinging face.

His father was red-faced with fury. "You must think me heartless?" He hiccuped again. "This has been - been coming for years. Your mother's sickness has ruined us. I'll be glad when she's gone."

Ansel dug in his pocket and threw the marks he found at his father. "Here you useless bastard. I hope you drown yourself."

His father picked up the coins, almost falling as he bent over. The man stared into his eyes, then walked out the door. Ansel ran back to his mother's side. A slight smile rested on her face while her eyes slowly lost the light of life she carried. Tears streamed down his cheek unrelenting. He needed to be strong for her. This had been coming for a long time. He just couldn't face his mother's death.

The memory shattered into a million fragments, soaring off into the darkness. He floated, still trying to stop himself from crying. Thousands of voices screamed at him from outside his consciousness. His loose grip on sanity weakened.

From the dark reaches of his mind, the color fragments swirled into another scene. This time, he wasn't sure if it was a memory or not.

Color shards formed a complete picture of a giant cavern that was endless. Darkness enveloped the memory like a cloak of night. Hundreds of statues stood frozen in stone, all in attacking stances. All facing one direction. Something stirred in the darkness beyond. Voices from outside his consciousness screamed at him, some yelling for him to run. Others to keep moving forward.

Once again, the memory shattered. He felt a rush as the darkness became consumed by light. The light filled him up until he burst at the seams. He opened his eyes and gasped, ripped from his slumber.