Shift: Journey to Victa

Sunbeams crept along the land, creating golden paths through the crevasses and peaks of the Firadam Mountains. For centuries the mountains resided, their tops bald with knotted pines and bases covered with a soft carpet of lush trees. The air was filled with life, everywhere was the smell of renewal and growth. The rain from a few days ago left the grass slightly moist to the touch. The sun crept higher, illuminating the budding leaves and blossoms, a welcome sight after such a harsh winter from months before. Zenth groaned and rolled over with a sigh as the first beams caressed his face. For months now he traveled along the well worn path to Victa, the holy city of the High Priestess, in order to find a cure for his curse.

Some called this curse the Shift, others called it Death of the Soul. Ever since the attack upon his village, Zenth became cursed during the fray by another who lost his soul to the Shift. In a few years time the curse would eat his soul away, leaving him, like the one who poisoned him, to roam the world as a beast. Only being of twenty three springs and one of the best warriors of his village, determination and the encouragement of others helped place him on the path to Victa.

Another sigh passed through Zenth's lips, and with a grunt he propped himself up on his elbows. With the aid of the Shift, his strength doubled and so did his other senses. However, parts of his body began to show the nature of the curse. Through the months of travel, it just became a game of amusement to see what had changed since he was last awake. Today his fingers had grown another centimeter, looking more beast-like, with padding appearing on the tips. Regardless of the awkwardness, he began to find that his skills as a warrior had become even more efficient with the add of such changes. However, fear kept him from forgetting his human origins. He did not wish to become a beast, for being a beast was less rewarding than being a man of great intelligence and thought.

The sun had reached well above the tree line when he finally got on his feet. With a stretch and a sleepy yawn, everything resounded in a multitude of pops and cracks. Even the trees seemed to turn a shade greener in response to the horrible creaking noises that came from his bones.

"Today is the day! I shall be within the Victa gates come midday then I shall be free of this curse!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, the drowsiness of sleep gone from his body. He jumped with excitement and sprinted about the campsite gathering wood for the breakfast fire. For months he waited for this day when he could eat a good steak and drink flasks of wine at a table with others in Victa. Traveling alone left much to be desired, the need to share stories and converse became an urgent need, almost as bad as hunger.

Within moments the fire popped and sizzled with energy. Rotating above it, game from yesterday's trapping hissed with juices that fizzled in the hungry tongue of the flame. The smell of the meat sending wave upon wave of sensuous caresses against Zenth's nose, stirring the beast curse within him. In the months before, meat was not so enticing as it had gotten towards the latter half of the journey. Just the smell of wild game would send a bestial shiver down his spine, the thrill of the hunt tickling his nerves. Before the meat had fully turned golden, he yanked it off the makeshift spit and gorged himself upon the flesh. In seconds it was devoured and the bestial call to hunt abated. These urges had become more frequent and less welcomed as his journey went on.

In a blur his very existence was removed, neatly packed within his large leather sack The fire too, was doused and covered as though it never existed. Even the compacted grass was brushed up and put into its once natural state with the greatest of care. His skills were second to none and the added strengths only amplified them. These skills, however, came with consequences beyond Zenth's control. Sometimes he would find himself running through the woods, when moments ago he was only walking along the path. Even thought had become slower and more primeval as the days went on, but yet his will to remain a man in both nature and mind slowed the curse. Hours of traveling spent by himself only reminded him more of his need to be rid of his affliction. However, the curse tempted him, showing him the benefits of being a beast. The strength, the speed, the feeling being free of society's chains! Zenth stood silent for a few moments, his mind rolling through the pros and cons of his cursed existence with eery curiosity. With a shiver of distaste, he finished packing and was on his way.

The sun rose higher in the sky, piercing the forest floor with jabs of light. The animals hid among the brush, careful not to arouse any knowledge of their existence. Zenth crunched along the beaten path, kicking small pebbles here and there with a childish glee. Today this affliction will be gone, these animalistic feelings gone from my body, he thought. Yet, a part of him sagged at the idea.

For years his elders told of the horrors that overcame a person when inflicted with the Shift. As a young man of only twelve springs, he had slain many a man contaminated with the curse, watching their eyes bleed back to a human once more. Even so, there always was a sense of sadness with every 'saving', as though the wretch would rather be animal than man. Even after so many years of preventing the Shift from spreading through his countryside, Zenth remained slightly confused as to why anyone would wish to remain a beast. A beast cannot enjoy the drinks of man or the warmth of a fire to share stories over or to make love by. What life would that be to live?

However, not one of the many women in his village dared come near him during the announcement of his curse. Even his lover feared him, as though he was a ghoul or perhaps a demon. This thought sent a chill through his back, raising his hair on the back of his neck.

"Ghoul, my love said. For two springs I was with her, strongest of the men, leader of the guard, and yet she abhors me now," he mumbled, lifting his hands to his face. "Yet, she is true. My hands are no longer mine but those of a monster." A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he dropped his misshapen hands to his sides. Each step on the path reverberated off the trees, every rock tinkled and clanged as Zenth's feet dragged through them. With a deep breath he let out a small titter, "I can't wait to see her when I return healed. Things I could say then! It's obvious her love is only skin deep!" A smile crossed his face only to be replaced shortly there after with a snarl.

Two men sat alongside the path. One puffed on a pipe of sorts, his dull brown hair tangled with mud and some stone beads. The other sharpened his blade with a silver stone, his black hair pulled back in a braid. Their smell was that of metal and blood. Zenth heard of such men that traveled along the paths to the great city. Many of them were petty thieves with the intent to kill then steal from the corpse. Some say that they are a race of gypsies, the original ones that first brought the curse of Shift upon the land. Whatever they were, they were evil, and their very stench wreaked of it.

"Halt friend," the one with the black hair motioned with his newly sharpened dagger. His voice was smooth and calm but with a touch of power. The hair on Zenth's neck rode even higher, the beast within scratched to get away from the danger. "I see you are one of the cursed, poor fellow," he smiled, one of his eyes was hidden behind a lock of unbraided obsidian hair while the other focused upon Zenth's leather bag containing Zenth's tent and dried goods.

Secretly Zenth chuckled. For days now he was prepared for such an attack, hiding his gold within his armor. No one could reach it unless he was killed. That alone has become a rare possibility now that his defense only doubled with the curse. The benefits again overwhelmed Zenth, making him almost wish to remain a half-beast. Even so, the curse would not allow it, and neither would his human soul. A slight feeling of sorrow ran through his bones, this conflict gained power every day of his existence. He knew the right choice and he only hoped that the cure of the priestess would remove this feeling within him. The man continued his speech.

"On a trip to see the High Priestess Gawyn are we? You know that there is no cure for what ails you," he spat as a sneer replaced his previous smile. The man with the pipe continued to puff, immobile and distant as though he was not there. "Well, I give you the honor of knowing the man who will 'cure', or should I say kill, you. This here man with the pipe is Tol and I am Sath, members of the Cursed-Blood Gypsies," bowing as he spoke.

Every inch of Zenth's skin flaired with excitement, all inner conflict abandoned, as the man named Sath inched closer to him. Tol remained where he was, indignant. Without a thought Zenth unsheathed his silver tipped sword. This was an heirloom from his father, the previous leader of the village guard, and was well over a thousand years old. However, Zenth's careful maintenance kept it as new as the day it was made. It glinted brilliantly in the sun, blinding Sath where he stood. Zenth saw the opportunity and leapt into the air above Sath's head.

Zenth let out a shout, landing the sword soundly against Sath's skull, splitting the man in two. Before the halves landed on the ground, Zenth stood poised facing Tol. Tol remained still, having moved not once during the attack.

"What are you doing! I killed your friend, I can just as easily kill you too if you so dare as to threaten me! Speak now or remain silenced forever!" Zenth shouted, his grip tightened to the point of making the metal of the handle groan with the pressure.

"Ah, the cursed one speaks to me," his deep voice boomed, the pipe in his lips quivered with the words. "I see you defeated that half-wit Sath, he was merely one of my many servants. I guess I'll have to do this myself," he grinned as he leapt off the rock he was perched on. He landed within a yard of Zenth, who remained solid and tense. With a graceful flick of the wrist Tol's pipe disappeared only to be replaced by a slender sword. On the side, engraved in the body of the sword, were the words 'The Curse of the Beast shalt be slain'. With a grin Tol inched a step closer, "I personally don't care for your goods, it's you that I wish to claim. Every head of a Shift cursed man brings me in 100,000 gold coin. You will create a fine weight in my coin pouch."

With that he rushed Zenth, throwing his muscular arm back in an anticipatory strike. Before Zenth had a chance to react, the beast instinct took over. Tol flew past in a blur, missing Zenth by mere inches. There was only a scraping of metal on leather. Tol, taken aback at the sudden shift in Zenth's position, fell into the jagged rocks that lined the path's edge. Zenth's beast, still awakened by the urge for survival, lunged at the fallen man.

It was over in moments, the memory of it a blur. In the back of Zenth's mind, his human nature screamed and cried while the beast in him became satiated. When he regained control, the world had became shades of red and orange, the sun crawling back from which it came. Night would be approaching soon and he was only less than a mile from Victa. Even the terrors of the night could not keep his mind free of the barbaric thing that just happened. All that remained of the men were their bones and possessions. The sight made Zenth sick and yet, eerily happy. That thought alone chilled his bones to the core. He ran, ran as fast as his body could carry him, towards the sacred city.

Each step echoed his misdeed, his body shivered with horror but determination to cure this disease drove his legs ever faster. This was the first time the instinct of the beast overcame him and changed him so dramatically. Even though the beast took over, his human eyes remained awake, unclouded and frightened. This alone pushed his drive to remain human. Never again did he want to taste human blood upon his lips or feel their soft bodies fold and crumble under his hands. Zenth's head swam with repulsion but his body charged on, unwilling to stop until Victa was in view.

The gates loomed large and domineering as he approached. His lungs wished to collapse, his legs began to buckle with the strain. Night crept fast behind him, looming in the background like a giant spider. Zenth was finally there, Victa at last.

Upon entering the gates, millions of people swarmed about, rushing here and there in a constant stream. No one gave him a second glance, as though cursed people were frequent to the city. Even the guards ignored him, even though in the back of Zenth's mind he should be arrested for the brutal crime he just committed. Everything was bustling with activity, even when the night covered the sky, nothing stopped moving.

After the distraction of the people, he took in the scenery. Everywhere there were buildings, some as tall as the trees themselves, lined up in neat rows of ten or more. At the end of the main street sat the temple in all its glory. Pure alabaster stone covered with gems and glittering metals of all kinds. It alone illuminated the city, taking what little light there was at night and spreading it as far as one could see. This is where his journey would end, his curse lifted.

Upon the steps of the temple Zenth stared at the gigantic metal doors that were the gate between the bustling streets and holy sanctuary. They glimmered with a touch of leaf gold and inscribed upon one of the doors were some ancient runes. They seemed to twinkle with their own source of light. Zenth thought better of it and assumed that it was just the reflected light of the pillars. “False faces lead to false truths. Believe not your eyes but your heart,” a voice spoke.

Zenth leapt back from the door with a start. “Who?” No one was behind him, nor to his sides. He scanned from the steps to the ceiling three times but the source of the voice could not be found. With a shrug Zenth reached out for one of the doors’ massive handles and felt the cool metal with his furred hands. The metal was smooth to the touch almost as if it were a soft rabbit pelt. Pulling the handle open he felt the creak and groan of the ages sing throughout the door as it groaned upon its hinges.

Darkness leaped out of the now open doorway as if it was escaping a horrendous prison. Inside only two large gems radiated a watery blue upon the walls of the temple. Between the two glowing orbs of light rested a parapet, etched with more runes and symbols far beyond Zenth’s reasoning. With a weary step he entered, the clink clank of his boot’s metal heel upon the tiled floor sounding like a thunder clap. His eyes darted about the room for fear of disturbing some unknown creature lurking in the dark but nothing stirred. With a whoosh the large metal doors slammed behind him, leaving him with the eery orbs of light.

“Hello?” he barked, but no response came. Zenth strained his ears in the darkness. Faint at first but growing with clarity was a song. It was almost too beautiful to listen to but his curiosity to find the source was too strong to deny. Without thinking he took another step and the clank of his foot hitting tile reverberated off the walls. Once the annoying echo was gone, so was the song. Zenth’s heart dropped.

“Ahh, so you’ve come to see me have you? Well come in!” a voice as pure as the snow whispered in his ear. The gems began to pierce the darkness, becoming little blue suns and blinding Zenth. Panic settled in the bottom of his stomach as his senses remained hindered but nothing happened to him. The inner sanctum, once pitch dark now glowed with the same light of its outside counterpart. Metal and gems looked woven within the pillars and parapet. Everywhere there were shades of blue and green, as if the ocean became frozen within the temple walls. There before him stood the priestess.

Her graceful flowing gowns floated behind her, making her appear as though she were drifting on a white silk sea. Her eyes were the darkest blue sapphire, her skin as pale as her cloth. Even her smile was as pure as her untouched skin, soft and gentle to the eye.

"A cure you seek, Zenth of Rahala. The plight of Shift has been placed upon you, its cure unknown for certain, yet you believe I might be the one to cure you?" A small smile crossed her lips, her eyes ablaze with interest. Zenth stood motionless as a statue, his heart racing with every gentle motion the priestess made. She let out a sigh and gave a gentle tap upon Zenth's shoulder. "Speak, it's alright."

"Uh, yes Your Holiness. I need to be cured of this curse so I might protect my village like my father and his father before him. Without my aid, I fear that my village may perish. Please, help me your grace," he spoke, his voice gutteral and raspy. The curse became worse after the fight, speeding its hold upon his body and soul. The weight of the beast continued to push against the surface of his skin, hindering his human thought.

"Ah, I see," she said with a deep sigh. Her eyes began to dull, the glitter fading back leaving only a darkened bluish black surface. "For this I am sorry Zenth, there is no cure that I can do to save you," she spoke. Zenth stood still, unthinking and blank, at the response. "However," she added, quick to not destroy all hope left within Zenth, "there is something I can do for you. The choice is yours."

A few seconds passed by while Zenth pondered his life as a beast. Tears, hot and salty, ran down his cheek, his hopes still diminished by the thought that he no longer could enjoy the human world. No more fine wines, no more good steak, no more women, and no more wonderful stories to share. He wondered if he would be better off dead than to remain without such pleasures. "What are my choices, your worship?" he said with a heavy sigh.

"I can either halt the process, meaning that I can stop the curse from spreading further so that you will remain half man, half beast. This is not truly that bad, and with your beast powers you can better defend your people. Or, I can speed up the process and make you forget that you were a human and put you out into the forest so you may live free and unburdened. A life that many tend to find better and more rewarding."

Zenth pondered his options. Previously the thought of being a half man- half beast tempted him. To keep the strength and the speed would help him in his guard duties. But, what about his form, his body? Would he be accepted by those who loved him before his curse, or would he be shunned and forced into exile because of his hideous deformities? The latter would be most probable since the cursed were usually killed in his village. What about his services as the village guard captain? They would not survive the next winter with the men they had now! Many of the good warriors died with the attack that cursed him! He could not leave his village in such dangerous conditions, his pride as a warrior would not let that happen regardless of his appearance.

However, becoming a beast he would forget the trials of being a human. Caring for the village people would be erased from his mind. He would just be one of the animals roaming the countryside, running free as the wind. The people would eventually forget about him, as most do when a loved one passes away. He would be nothing but a mere memory, he probably was one now since he left the village about three months ago. But that would be death to himself, who he is and what he stood for. That too would be unacceptable!

The priestess slowly crept closer to stand in front of him, already knowing the answer. "I rather stand watch over my fellow man. Regardless of the form I'm in, I made a promise to protect those people no matter what the case. Even if they despise my appearance," he said with slight enthusiasm. For once in his life, he regained that spark of hope and honor that he thought was lost. He is a protector. He was cursed protecting his village and since he was given the chance to continue his vigilant watch, nothing, not even freedom, could take him away from his duties. Never did he want to see them transgress to such a state as he. They would remain pure, even if he did not.

With a smile the priestess granted his wish and gave him a serum to halt the curse and to reverse some of the damage done to his body and soul. This way the beast instinct to hunt would be quelled yet his strength and power would remain. A secret he never knew. Her gowns glowed with the touch of the gods as he departed from the sanctuary of the temple. "May your path be sturdy and strong, do not forget your duties for you are a man of great honor!"

Zenth turned to give her one last glance as he exited the gate. "A man's duty, regardless of inner struggle, is to protect the ones he loves and not flee from it. Beast or no beast, I'm still but a man and my life is to protect!" With a wave of his slender fingers he left through the gates back toward his village. His body felt refreshed and almost new, even the beast within him remained silent, slumbering. Curious as to what reactions he would receive of his fellow villagers, he rushed down the path, scattering stones with every step. Would they despise his shift entirely, or would they accept him for what he is?

© 2003 -all rights reserved - Melissa Nieuwenhuis