Shepherd’s Awakening (Books 1-3)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  Vurgomm immediately decided not to say anything. No one could know of his broken promise of eternal virginity. He was the priest of the Décamon, no one could ever know he was a whore of a man, a rapist, a man who visited brothels and enjoyed both men and women. No, no one should ever find out.

  ***

  Trumbar walked in hissing like a snake, his eyes glowing like coals. He tore the front door from its hinges and went to Argbralius’ room. He kicked the door down and then that of the closet. The boy must know where his mother was, he would get it out of him by violence if necessary. He had not imagined he would find the answer so quickly. Ferlohren’s howl at being discovered was something Argbralius would never forget. Trumbar had turned into a demon once again. He grabbed Ferlohren and punched her in the nose three times, breaking it in.

  “You’re a slut!” he yelled as he threw her on the floor. He grabbed the boy by the neck and lifted him in the air. Those eyes, the hair, the way he had always looked at him. Yes, it was clear: he was a copy of Vurgomm.

  “You’re the devil’s son, you wretch. Isn’t that true, Ferlohren? Is this my son? Vurgomm got you pregnant with this filth. Now I see it! It all makes sense. All these years, I’ve tried to be the father of a son who was never mine. That’s why we’ve suffered so much. There you are, Ferlohren. You’re the cause of our family’s destruction. If you’d only been faithful to me, this would never have happened.” He started to strangle little Argbralius.

  Ferlohren screamed. She had suspected the truth for a long time, but this boy was her son whatever the circumstances, and this beast was trying to take him away from her. She went up to Trumbar but could do nothing. Fire surrounded the demon, now fully liberated. To the demon’s surprise, the boy did not flinch. He was squeezing his neck with all his might; a wyvern would already have perished and yet the boy remained calm. Was he smiling?

  From out of the boy’s eyes, black energy began to pour, darker than Trumbar’s shriveled soul. What was happening? The boy pointed at him with his finger and, as if he had been his creator, Trumbar slowly disintegrated. The demon struggled in a mixture of terror and torture. He was turning into dust. Meanwhile, the house was going up in flames as a consequence of Trumbar’s inflammatory state.

  Ferlohren held her breath, dumbstruck. She did not know who to fear the most: Trumbar or the monster she had carried in her womb. A love she had not realized she still retained moved her toward her husband when she realized he was disappearing from this world. She cried oceans, feeling that the moment had come to say farewell. Trumbar’s body crumbled into a pile of ashes upon which her beloved son was resting, smiling happily and without the slightest trace of remorse.

  He sank to the floor and there, he was seized by new convulsions. By the Gods, what was happening? A shadow, like a maleficent spirit, went out of the window. And yet, while he convulsed, something splendid was germinating in the little boy’s mind. He had unleashed the power the dark being had inserted in him. It had not been a dream and now he could manipulate the elements.

  Ferlohren watched him, worried by what she had just seen taking place, and feared for her son. The poor boy had grown up in the worst of conditions. She promised herself to set him apart from the path of violence and straighten him out. She gathered her son to her, still in a state of shock, and took him out of the bedeviled room.

  Chapter XXVII – Hellfire

  When he opened his eyes, he found he was floating in a vast black space inside the sphere, suspended in the amber liquid. The absence of references and the barrenness of the surface increased the sense of vastness. Huge masses of gas circulated in the distance, spinning around an invisible axis. Everything seemed perfectly synchronized. Manchego spent time admiring the infinite possibilities of figures that were taking shape there. He had Teitú beside him. Is this a dream? he asked him with his mind.

  It looks like one, but it’s not. When you sleep, I can bring you to the void, and here, with my help, we can steer our course. I am the sun that has always guided you. I am the strength you resort to in order to move at enormous speed.

  Manchego reflected for a moment. Are you telling me that we exist somewhere in the universe, outside my material body?

  Yes, Manchego. However strange it may sound, that’s exactly what’s happening.

  When they slowed down, the boy understood that they were approaching the world which had been his home. Teitú had told him that it was called the Meridian. It was not the only planet spinning eternally around a yellow, vigorous sun—it was one of many—and yet it was the only one that held life.

  They started to descend. They went through thick clouds and a breeze caressed his face. What time are we in?

  We are in a time when you were a teenager. You’ve been taught how to till the land and the village of San San-Tera is in danger. It’s better if you see it for yourself.

  His heart galloped. That meant he must prepare himself for a painful meeting.

  Dark, thick smoke, like an infectious worm, rose to the sky. The flames were devastating fields and houses. They landed in a burnt plantation. Manchego left the sphere.

  He stepped on to the earth and felt cold. He strained his senses and noticed he was there only in spirit, witnessing events that had already happened. He looked up and saw a burnt house, a wooden skeleton that would soon collapse. In front of the house, a boy was weeping. It was himself, and around him, a seraph was trying to calm him. The sight was like a dagger in his heart. The past sped faster before his eyes, a whirlwind of colors that took him somewhere else. Now, he was in the center of the village, where a fault had opened up and swallowed a huge building.

  An infernal green light issued from the moat. Into it, walking bodies—with neither life nor will—were falling. This scene awoke his memories: a coffin; a being brought back to life thanks to a powerful spell; a boy confronting a demon; the demon seized him by the neck and pressed; then the boy developed two wings and became filled with new energy. He reproached himself for having been so impetuous and having launched himself into the attack without thinking. He fell and the accursed moat devoured him.

  Nooooooo! Echoes. Silence.

  The boy was crying, not suspecting what would come next. A woman with golden skin and a girl with emerald eyes were sorrowing bitterly over the youth’s fall. That was too much. He broke the rules of traveling into the past. He fell on his face and dragged himself until he was as close as he could get to his grandmother, then began to talk to her in whispers.

  “Granny, I’m all right. Look at me, I’m still alive, can you see? No, of course not, but my soul is with you. I’m not dead. I wish you could hear me, feel me. I’ve caused you so much pain. Can’t you see me? Look at me! Look at me! Luchy! Luchy! LOOK! AT! ME!

  “LOOOOOOOOK!!”

  He was shouting, caressing the girl’s face, but the lovely girl was not aware of it. The girl with brown hair and emerald eyes stared into the chasm where her beloved best friend had been consumed by the dead.

  Manchego shook violently as he strained to call her attention. This was the worst punishment than he could ever have imagined. He broke and crumbled to the ground in a terrible lament, weeping.

  The day you know all your truths will be the day of the worst suffering.

  Teitú intervened at once, taking his master away from that past that only brought him terrible pain.

  Part III

  Chapter XXVIII – The Fateful Hours

  After Trumbar’s death, a gentle rain fell over Ágamgor. It was as though the sky were weeping. With sadness or joy, no one knew. The only certainty was that the fire which was engulfing Trumbar’s house was losing strength thanks to the water.

  In that poor neighborhood, nobody realized what had happened. Nobody found out that an abused child had had access to the occult powers and used them to manipulate the elements. Trumbar’s death was a mute cry that the wife and boy would only tell of decades later.

  Trumbar’s friends were not surprised by his sud
den disappearance. He had always been a man of few words who barely confided in others. Besides, in those times, it was not strange for the parents of a ruined family to leave everything behind to become troubadours. They traveled from town to town, village to village, earning their keep by singing the difficulties of their lives and sharing their misery through poetry.

  Although, Trumbar would never be a good troubadour; he was too strange. In any case, Ágamgor forgot Trumbar Gémorgorg quickly. The duke was delighted that he no longer needed to know of his existence. Vurgomm was already licking his lips at the thought of Ferlohren as a single woman.

  The devil’s widow went on through the streets under that persistent drizzle, although she was convinced that her family’s disgrace was all her fault. At the end of the day, she huddled with her beloved son among the rubble where other poor people also found shelter.

  Twice, she had to yield and have sex with some of them so that they would not take her food away. Argbralius, however, put up with that life among the garbage perfectly well. Anything was better than those past years.

  Ferlohren left the streets three days later. Remorse, the feeling of guilt for her husband’s death and, worse, her son’s new powers, drove her to find some solution that would keep the boy away from evil. But as a mother, she had already fallen into disgrace. Her reputation was soiled and her destiny was sealed with failure. There was only one person who could save the boy, and it would be the last favor she would ask of the boy’s real father.

  Chapter XXIX – Solar Reintegration

  He opened his eyes to find that gray sky he hated so much and would always hate. It was the color of his remorse. Teitú floated nearby, touched with the same energy.

  I’ve remembered everything. Now I know why I’m here and I know who’s responsible for my misfortune. I know who I have to seek and who destroyed San San-Tera. That fiend must be stopped.

  My true name is Alac Arc Angelo, I’m the God of Light. Balthazar was in the right. How did he know? Regardless, it would seem my true name has found me. Manchego is not my true name, and yet I love that name. It carries memories. Oh, sweet memories of mine. I will not leave my other name behind. There is too much history there. My grandmother gave it to me even though she’s not really my grandmother; just a good Samaritan who took me in and raised me as her child.

  The god-boy smiled dimly. If people like Lulita existed, even if she was the only good person out of a whole continent, it meant there was hope in the world.

  You’re a Naevas Aedán, a warrior from Tutonticám. You’re the one who’s going to help me get back my powers. Here, my dear warrior, come to me. It’s time to go back to that dimension of the universe where time and space are material and where my loved ones live. That’s the only way we’ll be able to defeat evil. I’ll sing you the song which joined us.

  Those who sow with tears

  the seeds which in black fire lie,

  through blackened sunset creeping

  on the alum the darkening sky;

  a sea with darkness weeping

  summons Thórlimas from the land.

  From the land of Tutonticám,

  lost, lovely, remote Teitú,

  there walks firmly over the veil

  over ships of white bamboo,

  which on a purple sky sail,

  a warrior of the Naevas Aedán.

  Times spent in Chaos will pass by him

  over the war of a sadness

  between its mighty supports,

  where his dwelling shone in gladness

  days passed in a peace of sorts,

  a place that remains destroyed.

  The old Lyric of the Wind sings that he

  who bears the sack of seed with care,

  heavy and somber, bent double,

  will soon shine with joy so fair,

  his night disappear from the rubble

  and his discontent never return.

  Teitú shone strongly as if in that instant the connection between Alac and the luminous being had been strengthened. He remembered old times when they suffered in the caves.

  But how will we do it?

  That’s the problem, I don’t know how to get out of here. Can you think of anything?

  I have the impression that this place is dissociated from the real universe by a well-intentioned spell.

  What are you saying?

  Don’t you remember? At Ramancia’s, we were confronted with several riddles.

  A riddle, you say...

  Exactly! That’ll be our next adventure.

  The god smiled. I think I can manage. If we solved the mysteries of Ramancia’s house, this will be nothing in comparison.

  Alac began to beat his wings but as fragile and burnt as they were, all they did was shed ashes. The muscles on his back were in pain. It was logical: it had been a long time since he had beaten his wings.

  Teitú, Alac said as he reinvigorated his muscles and prepared them for flight. Do you realize that evil has wanted to destroy me ever since my birth? Thanks to the goodness of a rancher called Eromes I managed to survive. It’s crazy! Every time I remember my last defeat—I was an idiot. I attacked in a rage, without thinking of strategy.

  It’s a very valid lesson, Alac. May I call you that?

  I suppose so.

  Evil tried to destroy you but was unable to. You are stronger than meets the eye.

  How do you know? Aren’t I lost in this gray hell?

  But you’re not dead. You faced a stronger foe and did not perish. It only made you stronger.

  The boy considered this. It was true; he was not dead, but instead, was locked up in a world he did not yet understand.

  Then what am I doing in this prison?

  It’s not a prison either, Alac. Just think about the ample freedom you have. Do you think a dungeon created by your enemies, who are savages, would allow you to move, travel into the past, and visit your world? I don’t think so. This place seems more like a neutral field.

  That means there must be something or someone with superior power who’s woven together many events with the greatest delicacy. Teitú, do you realize? There are supreme beings who have helped me and who may have put me here, wouldn’t you agree? It wouldn’t make sense if that evil being had sent me here so that I could conspire against him. We have to find those who have protected me. We need to know the truth. The Meridian is in great danger. Teitú, we need to get out of here urgently, as soon as possible. We can’t delay any longer!

  Alac clenched his teeth and beat his wings. That evil being. Do you recall ever hearing him mentioned as the Master?

  Teitú shone red. Yes, that’s right! They called him Master. Legionaer was his name. Alac, we have to get out of here and find out once and for all what’s happening.

  Alac was thoughtful.

  The Master has returned for a purpose, but what? By the Gods! He’s come to take the throne! The Master, Legionaer, wants to come back to Némaldon and probably conquer the Empire of Mandrake. And then what else will he want? To conquer the world? The universe? There are no limits to his ambition. If he spreads what he did in San San-Tera throughout the world, just imagine the level of destruction. Let’s get out of here right away. Now the question is, how do we do that?

  I don’t know, Alac. But the path is made by walking, so let’s walk.

  Let’s walk.

  Chapter XXX – Mérdmerén’s Fall

  Any traveler journeying along the roads of the south of the Empire, near the walls of Ágamgor and the rocky faults of the Devónic Simrar Range, or who stopped at some tavern or inn, would hear farfetched stories so outrageous that they were considered absurd legends.

  One evening, an inquisitive traveler arrived at one of the remote villages of the Empire. After leaving his wife and daughters asleep at the inn, he went into a tavern that claimed to serve good drinks. When he crossed the threshold, some locals fell silent while others celebrated his arrival, glad to have a new audience for the stories and
rumors—or the chance to rob a stranger. The traveler, a man of average size with brown eyes and a thick beard, went up to the counter.

  The owner spat on the floor. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “A glass of spirits with a dash of good chili pepper, if you have any.”

  A half-dressed woman in flashy clothes threw him a glance from across the tables. She winked at him and waggled her breasts. The man weighed up the possible pleasures, but then he saw her teeth and refrained. He centered his attention, once again, on the counter. In one corner, someone was smoking a pipe. The smoke hid him like a thick cloak. He smelled bad.

  “Hey, you,” that someone called. “Yes, you, the one with a sissy look and not much courage. Over here. Yes, come here. If you buy me a mouthful of that, I’ll tell you a good story, one you’ll never be able to forget. What’s more, it might help you to know what things to avoid and who you should never offer a drink to. Have you heard of the Wild Men?”

  At once the traveler felt the touch of curiosity. Where he hailed from, those mythical beings that dwelt in the mountains were hardly ever mentioned.

  “My name is Godforsaken.”

  He emerged from the blanket of smoke. The traveler was struck dumb; he did not know how to react, either with disgust or pity. The man lacked an arm and a leg on one side. His hair was thick and long, and you could see his scalp. His badly-shaven face gave him the look of a beggar. And yet, his eyes were very lively; they seemed to have seen too much.

  Whether out of pity or disgust, the traveler accepted and went over to the cripple.

  “I’m—”

  “Silence, traveler. Don’t tell me your name, because I don’t care. You’re interested in my story, hey? Everybody pays attention when I mention a Wild Man. I won’t disappoint you.”

  “In exchange for a drink, you said?” the traveler wanted to confirm.