A Forgotten Life

TW: Corpse descriptions (mild)

The first thing he saw were stars. They filled his sight, glittering in the dark velvet of the night sky. The moon was a crescent, hanging amid the sparkling dust, and a band of shimmering light was faint as it crossed the heavens.

He knew what the stars were called, but all his mind could conjure in form of memory was a haze, an obscuring mist that lay heavy on the past. The more he focused on seeing through the fog to clutch at the moments he once knew, the more they slipped away.

Pressing his palms to his eye sockets, he tried in vain to drag those moments out from where they were hidden. He needed them. His name and life were among the fading recollections. But they were gone. The river of amnesia washed them away. Not hidden. Lost.

“What happened?”

He received no answer.

Lowering his hands until they rested upon the ground at his sides, he lay there for a time, watching the glittering twilight. The stars were a comfort, beautiful, and ever present. But, they did not change. After a time, he dragged himself upright to sit and looked at his surroundings, seeking answers in the soft shades of starlight.

Had he a stomach, the sight would have turned it.

Strewn across the torn lawn amid pits of blood and debris were bodies. The night hid from him the sides of the conflict. In death, every soldier looked the same.

Who would miss them? Spouses, siblings, parents, children, friends, family?

How many lives would now be in agony and turmoil for each corpse?

Looking down at his hands, he might have frowned. He was in no pain, but the charred bones of his skeletal fingers spoke of a forgotten torment. His gaze followed up his arms, seeing scraps of what might have once been a shirt sleeve, all the way to his shoulder and ribcage. He touched his face and found eye sockets, a nasal cavity, and a lack of any skin or muscle.

Had he always had a charred skull for a face? Or was it why he lacked the memories he grieved?

Sitting here would not answer such questions. Rising from the ground, he looked around once again, searching for signs of life among the rabble of the dead. A cloak tugged on his neck, and he pulled the hem free from the body it was snagged under. Wrapping it around himself, he began walking.

The direction mattered little to him. Among the dead, there was no indication of where the survivors might have gone. The churned ground hid much of the subtle marks one used to track. A random direction was as good as any other.

Questions thrummed within his mind as he strode forward. Who had fought here, and why? Had he been a soldier in one of the armies? Who was right, and wrong? What purpose had he played here?

Was this where he died? Or had he been dead long before now?

Pulling his hood over his face, he kept walking, then jogging, trying to outrun the uncertainties badgering him. Taunting him.

He didn’t want to be a killer.

Had he loved violence before awakening here?

Who was he?

Did the corpse he jumped over mean something to him once? Was his family here among the dead? Or did he loathe his obligations to whatever crown these soldiers serve?

He was drowning without lungs to scream for air, but the suffocation still gripped his bones.

“You there!”

He froze at the sound of the voice, glancing to his right to see a soldier approaching him. Though her armor was damaged and she had a cut across their cheekbone, she was alive. Waving at him, she approached.

“Stop where you are. Who are you and whom do you serve?”

“Um—”

He shrank back a bit, hood hiding his face. “I don’t recall.”

The soldier stumbled, eyeing him with unease at the sound of his voice. Appearing to brush it aside, she spoke again.

“Hit on the head, were ya? Well, lucky for you, medics are to administer aid to all in need once the battle is over. I’ll take you to them. I’m Liana, what’s your name?”

“I don’t remember that either,” he admitted. “I can’t remember anything from before.” Fear shook his voice a little. The unknown was frightful.

“Well, you ought to pick one then, until you remember it. I need something to call you by after all.” Liana’s voice was friendly as she walked beside him.

He adjusted his cloak to keep himself fully covered as he glanced around at his dour surroundings. Corpses still lay in the muds, twisted and cold with empty eyes. A light rainfall had begun, blurring the world like a curtain of motion. Overhead, carrion birds circled, a few ravens and crows swooping down to peck at the unfortunate dead, black feathers shining as the rain rolled off of their wings. Here for the aftermath of war. Just like he was.

“Would Blackbird do?” he asked Liana.

“Strange name,” she said, “but it suits you. We’re nearly to our camp. Do you have any idea which side of the battle you were on?”

Blackbird shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she said. “Mind lowering your hood? If you were on the side of Ardûnn, I might recognize you.”

“Would you know my real name?”

“Probably not? I remember faces better than names.”

“My face is ruined, are you sure?”

“I won’t judge.”

Blackbird nodded, trusting her words. Pushing back his hood, he let it fall from his skull.

Liana’s smile vanished and she raised her pike, stopping dead in the middle of the path.

“Liana?”

“Don’t say my name, demon. What are you?”

“I- I don’t know—”

“What are you?!”

“I don’t know!” Blackbird raised his hands as her pike neared him, the instinct of life still present even though a stab would not do much to bones. “I don’t know, I swear it. I woke up like this on the battlefield. I really don’t have any memories. Please- I don’t want to be your enemy. You’re the only person I know right now.”

Liana narrowed her eyes but lowered her pike. “That’s not for me to decide,” she said. “Necromancy is illegal.”

“I’m not a necromancer,” Blackbird protested. “Maybe one used a spell on me but it sure as heck wasn’t me. I was dead; I can’t have been the one to revive me.”

“That is true… but I still don’t trust you.”

Blackbird kept his hands in view, cooperative. “Then please, give me a chance to earn it?”

Can one hold their breath without lungs? Blackbird felt like it. The tension was a bubble about to burst.

“… Fine.” Liana lowered her weapon, glaring at Blackbird with suspicion. “You’ll need new clothes and a mask. I can guarantee no one will care how friendly you are if they see all that.” She flung a hand at him, and Blackbird felt the first creepings of shame as he pulled his cloak over his body to hide his bones again.

“Wait here,” Liana said. Blackbird nodded and she went on ahead. Finding a rock, Blackbird sat and waited, looking at his metacarpals with new dislike. Did he look like a monster? He didn’t feel like one. Searching his emotions, he wondered. Emotions at least indicated he had some sort of soul, right? Not just some reanimated corpse; he was still here, within it. But what a horror to be trapped as. Char and burnt bone was all he saw, darkened and sooty with coarse black marks and buildup.

“What am I…?” Blackbird wondered aloud before leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

After a time, Liana returned carrying some leather armor, gloves, and a mask. The mask was plain wood made into a concave oval. Two slits had been added so one could see out of it, and it had little other features.

“These should do,” she said, handing them to him. “Put those on.”

“Here? With you watching?”

“Ew, no. I’m going to be looking away but if you try anything you’ll find I’m ready to crack your skull.”

“That’s not very kind but I suppose it’s better than other options.” Blackbird quickly rid himself of the scorched rags he’d woken up in and donned the clothes she brought him. Once done, he placed the mask over his face and pulled his hood up. “How is this?”

Liana turned and nodded to him. “Normal enough.”

“What happens now?”

“You think I know?” Liana chuckled, shaking her head. “Look, I don’t think taking you to the camp is a good idea anymore. Our medics won’t be able to do a thing for you. Your best bet is to find a mage but those can be pricey to hire.”

“I have no money.”

“I thought about that,” Liana said, withdrawing some rolled up pages from her hip satchel and handing them to Blackbird. “You were a soldier if you were on this field, and you have a sword at your side. Bounties might be up your alley since you can’t remember who you fought for.”

“I would rather join your military, if they are as kind as you.”

Liana shook her head. “They would never allow you to keep your mask. It’s technically meant for drama night, a social thing we soldiers have to keep morale up. It’s not military equipment and you would have to show your face.”

Blackbird unrolled the bounties, reading through them. At least he remembered how to do that. Skills didn’t seem to fade from his mind, only the means of learning them.

“Thank you, Liana,” Blackbird said, putting the posters away. “I take it you’re not going to bring me to face a trial or such to determine I’m a necromancer?”

“You made a good point,” she answered with a shrug. “You can’t have revived yourself, so, you’d have to be innocent. Just keep it that way.”

Blackbird nodded. “Then… is this goodbye?”

A solemn gleam was in Liana’s azure eyes. “For now.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“It seems fate thinks otherwise, I’m sorry. But we will part ways without adversity or grudge. We’re not enemies.”

Blackbird nodded, unable to counter that statement, and he gazed at the rise leading out of the valley. “I don’t know where I’m going.” He meant more than just location as new doubts flowed into the pools of those that already existed, filling them deeper than the dark shadows cast over a grave.

“I’ll let you in on a secret then,” Liana said, a faint smile touching her lips. “None of us do.”