“Yes, young sire,” Kano affirmed. “Two weeks is how long it takes for the poison to finish consuming the victim’s brain.” He then hesitated before he continued, “Two weeks is how long the victim has to suffer before he or she dies.”
If Marlo felt despair a few moments before, then he felt doubly so right that moment. He nodded his thanks to Kano and walked out of the room. He went out to the garden, took off the breast plate of his armor and sat on the bare ground. He asked his servants to leave him be and gave strict instructions not to be disturbed. When he was certain he was all by himself, he wept bitterly. He wept for this his best friend and brother, who had only a fortnight to live. He was so engrossed in his pain that he did not notice the middle-aged man carefully trying to catch his attention.
“Sire?” the man kept calling. “Sire?”
Marlo jerked his head up and drew his dagger.
“Show yourself!” Marlo ordered.
The man emerged from the darkness, hands in the air and dropped to a knee in front of the Marlo.
“Apologies, sire. I did not mean to startle you,” the man said. “I heard about your brother. I am truly sorry, sire. May the gods keep him strong!”
Marlo sheathed his dagger.
“Thank you,” Marlo said. “And what are you doing out here at this hour?” he asked.
“Sire,” the man began, “after a long day of mending shoes and providing for one’s family, one sometimes deserves some ale from the tavern; even it is but a minuscule reward for the toils of one’s hands.”
“True,” Marlo replied dismissively. “Now, be gone and spend time with your family, mender of shoes. And thank you once again for your kind words.”
“Sire,” the man said, making no move to rise just yet. “If I may, I think there may be a remedy for your brother’s malady.” He paused for a moment.
“Speak!” he commanded.
The stranger had Marlo’s complete attention.
“Sire,” the man continued, “it may only be a legend, but at the same time, there is an aspect of truth to every legend.”
“Do not waste my time, peasant!” Marlo roared.
“I apologize, sire,” the stranger said and cowered. “It is said that a man resides in the Caves of Callow, who suffered a curse of some kind. But the good thing about his curse was that it turned his blood into a panacea for all ailments. So, if you can find him, get some of his blood and feed it to your brother, then your brother just may be saved.”
“The Caves of Callow are a seven-day ride away,” the prince said. “Even if this legend were true, it is nearly impossible to make it back in time to save my brother.”
“Sire,” said the man, “I mean no disrespect to you, but I know that if it were my family smitten thusly, I would go after the gods themselves if I had word that there might be even the slightest possibility for a remedy that could save my family.”
Marlo was deep in thought.
“Sire,” the man pressed on, “if you decide to go, you must go now!”
“How did you come about this piece of information, anyway?” asked Marlo.
“Sire, I may only be more than half a century old,” replied the man, “but I know enough to last my children and their children’s children a lifetime. Stories have been passed onto us for generations and I will continue in the light of my forefathers. That is all I have to say, sire.”
Marlo made up his mind and rose to his feet.
“Thank you,” he said to the man, “I will heed to your words and ride out at once.”
“May the gods themselves ride with you, sire,” the man said and bowed his head.
Only after Marlo had left did The Scientist rise to his feet and disappear into the darkness of the night. He was pleased with himself and the unfolding of his plan so far.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: DEATH BY DESPERATION
An hour later, Marlo and six guards were galloping across the country as they headed for the Caves of Callow. He had only spared a few moments to explain his intentions to his parents. The king gave his son his blessing. Hope was slim, but that was enough for Marlo. His only true enemy right now was time, but nothing would deter him. Marlo was ready to wrestle even the god of the underworld for the bloody elixir that could restore his brother back to full health. A full moon peered from behind the clouds and Marlo was grateful.
“Sire!” called out one of the guards.
Either Marlo did not hear the man calling out to him, or he was just lending the guard a deaf ear.
“Sire!” the guard called out once again and once again, there was no response.
So, the guard sped past Marlo and cut Marlo off. The prince was forced to an abrupt stop and he was furious.
“You had better have a good reason for this insolence or else,” he barked, reaching for his sword, “your life will meet its end at the edge of my sword!”
“If it comes to that, my lord,” the guard replied, without the slightest hint of emotion, “then it will be as my lord wishes. But if we continue in this manner, then we may as well be dead because these horses can only ride for so long without food, water and rest!”
Marlo realized the guard was right and relaxed.
“What is your name?” Marlo asked the guard.
“Pranko, my lord,” he replied.
“Apologies, Pranko!” Marlo said, without warmth.
“His highness need not apologize!” Pranko replied still without any display of any emotion in his tone. “These are dark times for all of us, your highness. I hope you understand that we all share in your burden. Your family has been nothing but kind and generous to us all and I speak for all of us here that we are ready to lay down our lives to see this mission is accomplished, your highness.”
Marlo stared at Pranko for a few seconds and then turned his horse around to look at each of the five other guards in the face as if he were just noticing them for the first time. He nodded briefly at each of them before turning around to face Pranko. Marlo seemed to relax a little more, and for the first time that day, the first wave of exhaustion hit him hard.
“You are their leader?” Marlo asked Pranko.
“Yes, sire. Your father handpicked us himself and like I said,” Pranko gestured at his men, “the six of us are ready to lay down our lives for you and the mission.”
“Thank you, Pranko,” Marlo said, feeling as if he would crash under the weight of exhaustion as he turned around to face the other guards. “Thank all of you! You are good men, and I am lucky to have you with me on this mission.”
The six beat their clenched right fists on their left breast plates three times in unison. When a soldier or guard beat their left breast plate once with their clenched right fist, it expressed an affirmation to an order. Beating the breastplate three times symbolized an affirmation and a pledge to accomplish a task or mission to the very end and only death could prevent them.
“If I may, your highness,” Pranko said, “The horses could use a drink of water and some rest. And from what I see, you too require rest, your highness.”
Marlo was about to argue. But when he missed his step as he was dismounting his horse and landed on the ground as if he was in a drunken stupor, he changed his mind and started making his way unsteadily towards tree a few paces to his right.
“We will stand guard in pairs, sire,” Pranko continued, gesturing at three of the guards to attend to the horses as he steadied Marlo.
Marlo noticed for the first time that Pranko was much taller, with a stronger build, than he was. He did not think he could match this guard brute-force-for-brute-force in hand-to-hand combat. It was a good thing they were on the same team. The last thing he remembered before getting sucked into a blackness of near-death sleep was the ground getting closer to his face Pranko gently laid him on the ground.
“I have never seen the prince like this!” said Nanko as he tied the horses to a small tree after the horses had drunk from the stream.
“It is as if he is possessed by
a demon,” agreed Pranko. “I pray that this nightmare will be over soon before something worse happens.”
“What could be worse than losing a loved one, my dear Pranko?” Nanko asked, finding a semi-comfortable spot on the ground to rest his bottom. “I understand the man is only like this because he fears for his brother’s life.”
“True, he is afraid!” Pranko agreed. “But dire times have strange ways of bringing out the worst in people, you know.”
He turned around and spat out the remains of a twig he had been chewing and leaned against a tree next to Nanko.
“Well,” Nanko replied, yawning and stretching at the same time, “let’s make sure we succeed in the mission then. You do not plan on getting any sleep tonight, do you?”
“You know me even better than you know the farm girl down the road from your house, my good friend,” Pranko said with a smile, and both men managed some laughter.
“What is her name again? I keep forgetting.”
“That, my good friend,” Nanko answered, nestling his head on his left arm and shoulder, “will be my little secret, for I do not trust you!”
And both men broke into laughter once again.
After an uneventful night, they awoke at first light and immediately continued their journey. They pushed their horses to the brink of death. On the third day, they arrived at a place called the Curve of Callow. It had a semblance to a caldera, only that this natural structure was not an extinct volcano. It looked like Mother Nature used a bowl and scooped some land mass out of the ground, and the Curve of Callow was formed. The edges stretched across at approximately five hundred meters in diameter, and after assessing the majestic scenery that lay in front of them, they finally got to understand the origins of the phrase ‘Caves of Callow.’ There were probably more than fifty caves along the Curve and with it came the problem of where to begin searching. Marlo was about to charge downhill when Pranko stopped him.
“Sire, I suggest we exercise caution and wisdom in our approach,” Pranko said.
“Alright then,” Marlo said. “What do you propose?”
“If I lived here as a hermit,” Pranko explained, “I would choose a cave in the eastern corner. It would be illuminated with as much direct evening sunlight as possible. The cave would also be far enough from the valley floor to avoid the possibility of floods. I’d suggest we start from the uppermost caves and work our way downwards.”
“The eastern corner it is then,” Marlo said.
“And what do we do when we find this person?” Pranko asked the prince. “Do we just hold him down and um… ‘obtain’ his blood?” It was a fair question.
“Yes,” Marlo replied coldly. “If he resists, then I will take it by force.”
“Perhaps it would be wise to ask nicely,” said a man that startled all of them.
They instinctively spun around and unsheathed their swords, with the guards forming a semi-circle around Marlo.
“Identify yourself, stranger!” Pranko ordered.
“My name is of no consequence,” replied the stranger-from-nowhere.
He wore a dark, brown robe that extended all the way to his ankles. He had a thick, black beard. His hair was overgrown and could use some cutting. He was barefoot, and his hands were clasped behind his back.
“And if I wanted all of you dead, you certainly would have been dead already.”
The stranger stared at each of the men for a moment before speaking again.
“I know why you are here and no, you will not have it,” he said dismissively.
“And since you know why we are here, you also know that we will have what we came here for, with or without your permission!” Marlo replied, walking through the wall of guards to face the stranger.
“Be careful what you say, Marlo!” the stranger warned.
“How did you know my name?” Marlo ordered but the stranger ignored his question.
“And no, I did not prepare the poison that has killed Merko!” said the stranger.
Marlo’s hands went limp, and his heart sank. If this man knew his name, if the man could know what his next question was before he even asked, and if the man knew that his brother had been poisoned, then could this man also be telling him that it is already too late? Marlo shook his head in denial. He drew his sword and placed the tip on the stranger’s chest. Pranko and his team took battle stance.
“Go home and bury your brother,” reiterated the stranger calmly. “There is nothing more you can do!”
And then, the stranger casually walked through the sword, Marlo, and the guards, and started making his way down the hill. Marlo and the guards were stunned motionless after what they had just witnessed. But then, Marlo jolted back to reality, sheathed his sword, sprang after the stranger, fell to his knees in front of the stranger and held the stranger’s left ankle in supplication. Pranko and his team also sheathed their swords as they stared at one another in disbelief.
“Please, sir!” Marlo implored, “The man who told me about you said that your blood is an elixir of life.” He coughed hard as if to catch his breath. “If this is so, then please let me have some of it. It could bring my brother back to life.”
The guards were now even more stunned to see such a display of humility and desperation.
“You do not know what you are asking!” replied the stranger. “There is a purpose for everything and everything happens for a reason. This is something you must understand!”
“Then surely, sir, there is a reason why I am begging your feet right now,” Marlo rebutted.
A few moments passed, and Marlo still had not let go of the stranger’s ankle. While the stranger seemed to consider the situation, Marlo decided to press his luck.
“Please, sir!” Marlo said. “I will do anything to save my brother’s life!”
“Rise, young man!” the stranger said, finally.
Marlo rose to his feet.
“Are you sure you are willing to do anything to save your brother’s life?”
“Yes, sir!” Marlo replied without hesitation. “I am!”
“I ask again; are you willing to do anything to save your brother’s life?”
“Yes, sir! I am!”
“Marlo Pakola, are you willing to do anything to save your brother’s life?”
“YES, SIR! I AM!” Marlo screamed, out of anger, impatience and frustration. “I will sell my soul if I have to!” he added softly as tears of desperation rolled down his cheeks.
“Light begets light, darkness begets darkness,” the stranger said as he reached out, grabbed Marlo by the throat and lifted Marlo off his feet.
“Blessings beget blessings, curses beget curses!”.
The guards had already drawn their swords and were about to attack. But Marlo gestured at them to stay their hands. To Marlo’s surprise, he was not choking. All he felt was the stranger’s hand around his throat and his body suspending in midair. The stranger then let go of Marlo, and Marlo remained suspended in midair. He opened his right hand, and a pale light coalesced on his palm to form a dagger with a six-inch blade. He closed his fist around the hilt of the dagger and extended his left hand to the side.
“Life begets life, death begets death,” he continued as he slit his left palm with the dagger in his right hand.
“Marlo Pakola, I claim your soul,” he clenched his left fist. “So that your brother, Merlo Pakola, may come forth from the world of the dead,” he added as his blood gathered on a huge leaf that was not there until a blink-of-an-eye ago, “and walk among the living yet again!”
At these words, Marlo’s body violently arched forward suddenly, and a terrifying scream escaped from his lips. His body tensed up and arched forward as if it was yanked by some invisible strings. His face was tilted towards the sky, towards the sun and he could not shut his eyes. Yet, he did not go blind. He stared directly into the eye of the sun and neither did he blink, nor did he look away. And in that moment, he felt a fire course through every fiber of his being. It burned
without heat; it blazed without a flame. It consumed without destruction! Oh yes! It was a feeling of freedom, of aliveness, of power, and of… death! Noooooo! He wanted to scream, but he could not.
It was the suction that snapped him back to reality. It was the indescribable feeling of loss like he had never felt before that made him tear his gaze from the sun and gaze upon the stranger. It was the look of incredulity, of fear, and confusion on the faces of the guards that confirmed he was not dreaming; that the white mist flowing into the stranger’s mouth was, indeed, flowing from his mouth. The last wisp of mist disappeared into the stranger’s mouth, and the stranger opened his eyes. Marlo felt himself descending slowly towards the ground and even before his feet touched the ground, and he rested himself on all fours, with his head bowed low, he knew that the reason why he felt the way he did. He had just sacrificed something he never thought was real until just then; he had just sacrificed his soul.
“What have you done to me?” Marlo asked the stranger barely above a whisper.
“The blood must be drunk by none other than your brother,” the stranger said, ignoring Marlo’s question.
The stranger started walking towards the caves.
“You hold no comprehension on the sacrifice you just made, Marlo,” the stranger added. “Maybe one day, you will. But until then, stay on the path of the light,” he gradually faded into the air, “or be doomed for all eternity,” a non-corporeal voice finished his sentence.
Marlo crept on all fours towards the small pool of blood that had gathered on the huge leaf on the ground. He extended his left hand towards Pranko, who cautiously placed a small, leather container in Marlo’s open palm with a trembling hand. Marlo uncapped the container and poured the stranger’s blood in it. The blood still maintained its original viscosity despite its exposure to the elements. When he was done, he dropped the leaf and it vanished into thin air before touching the ground. Marlo helped himself up and only then did he finally lift his eyes towards the guards. The guards all took a step back as if they had just beheld a terrifying creature.
The Bright Eyes (The Soulless Ones Book 1) Page 16