Shepherd’s Awakening (Books 1-3)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  ***

  Finishing the lesson before time, even if it was because they had to read a book for the following day, made the boys happy. On top of this, they had an added incentive: they were beginning to learn about the Conjuring Arts, a mysterious science that was accessible only to a few.

  Délegas stayed faithful to his determination to carry on alone, angry and grumbling. His eyes flashed with rage, and his giant hands held the book as if he were strangling some small harmless creature. Argbralius and the others gave him pitying looks.

  When they reached the library, the boys spread out along the vast aisles and multiple tables, leaping and playing in silence as they were full of joy at having been granted a day at their own discretion for the first time in months.

  To the surprise of some and the puzzlement of others, physical changes in the boys were already evident: many were gaining the width and flabbiness typical of men of religion, whereas others, gaunt by nature, had gained a benevolent gaze touched by a wave of wisdom since they were learning so much about the world and its history that they already felt like erudites.

  “The Conjuring Arts and religion,” Argbralius read aloud with the other students around him. “The Conjuring Arts were discovered in Vásufeld, the scientific—to others, the woodcrafts—city of the Empire, by Rummbold Fagraz, an outstanding scientist whose relevance has been profoundly important throughout the centuries.

  “The Conjuring Arts spread rapidly within the borders of the Empire, particularly because of its multiple applications in the military field. Later on, it was integrated into the religious sphere once it was seen how much good it did for the general public.

  “The Conjuring Arts is fundamentally divided into two: that of magic, in the hands of wizards and derived from science and the control of the elements and matter; and the development of the Fark-Amon, later the Brutal Fark-Amon, which enabled the Empire to win so many wars.”

  Argbralius smiled and looked up at his companions, who were listening with amazement and respect. “It’s fantastic, these Conjuring Arts. I can’t wait to go on reading.”

  Without another word, he turned back to the book and went on reading in silence. His fellow students, including his closest friends Joermo, Ánomnos, and Kurlos, did the same with equal dedication.

  After a few hours, the prodigy raised his head. “Tomorrow, we’ll cast our first spell. We’ll plant our first Emanating Rose and enchant it afterward. It’s great!”

  Ánomnos, Joermo, and Kurlos showed the same enthusiasm, hugging each other and celebrating as if the most exciting adventure of all times awaited them.

  Chapter XX – Seraph

  On the peak of the mountain, inside the gigantic cave, Alac went over his last years after the earth had swallowed him. So this is one of many worlds, he thought, sensing that Teitú agreed with him.

  Yes, it’s unbelievable, isn’t it? Although I still don’t understand what Kanumorsus and the Interim are. I think Kanumorsus is the cavern, the geographic fault, whereas the Interim is this dimension of green light which contains the countless portals to other worlds. The Interim is out of the reach of mortals. Only beings like you, gods and others of high power, can enter. Do you think I’m right?

  Alac took a moment to consider Teitú’s conclusions. You could be. But what I can’t explain is how Eromes was able to get in. In the red book, he spoke of some tunnels and green light. He obviously meant this place. That means it’s not completely beyond the reach of mortals.

  You’re right, Alac. We’re still missing a lot of information. The luminous being floated close to his master.

  From that height, Alac had a wide view of the place. The tunnels branched off and went everywhere. Who could have conceived and built this structure? With what end in mind?

  It was still hard for him to take in the fact that a part of this labyrinth was under his family’s estate. He recalled the multiple legends about the Amrin Ring, the Devónic range of Simrar that crosses the seas, or the stories about the Wild Men and their rituals. In the end, it might all be part of the same thing under different names.

  If Kanumorsus had been created for traveling between worlds and dimensions, it was not farfetched to think that the structure went around the whole world and that it was not the size of the cavern but that of a planet. It was insane!

  Alac and Teitú began the descent from a mountain. Like a bird that has just discovered control and the ability to fly, Alac enjoyed the gentle fall despite the ancient and humid air of the cavern.

  The feeling was delightful. It was a new emotion, impossible to grasp with the senses. His heart was beating hard as he rose, calming down when he descended. When he reached the base of the mountain, Alac stopped smiling and went back into his alert state of mind. He needed to stay vigilant for he was not in a playground but in a dimension that he was only beginning to glimpse. He did not know when or where beings that could harm him might be lurking.

  Alac headed in the direction of the first tunnel he saw. He needed to begin his mission unless he wanted to stay in an insubstantial state. Making a map of Kanumorsus would take an eternity, but maybe Teitú would be able to help him.

  The tunnel had smooth edges. He soon reached the end that opened into a domed cave and a portal on a stone platform. In the epicenter of the vortex of energy, there was a rune. What could its meaning be?

  If I’d created these portals, I’d have thought of a classification system to know where each portal leads. Maybe that’s the meaning of the rune, he thought. He remembered Nordost mentioning that creating “permanent” portals required a great deal of energy. That meant that whoever had created this place must have used a tremendous amount of energy to build it. Impressive.

  Unlike with the Tempus Frontus portal, Alac managed to penetrate that whirl and found that it was deep. It was as if he were looking at the infinite.

  The whirlpool sucked and gave out a soft hum, like that of a bumblebee in flight. Alac put a finger in the whirl and felt a slight temperature difference.

  How I’ve changed, Teitú. When I was a child, I never thought of doing anything daring. Now my impulses guide me. I know what it means to lose everything, and I’m not afraid to act to get them back.

  He threw himself into the whirlpool and vanished.

  Chapter XXI – The Brotherhood of the Ravens

  It took them two more days and two more nights to travel along the Path of the Fallen. During the journey, they were able to catch a glimpse of the city on the rock-towers.

  These were tall and powerful, like the legs of a colossal elephant. Each one held a castle made of the same red rock. On the towers rose the catapults, ready to launch their arsenal upon the enemy who might dare to march on the Fields of Flora.

  The rock-towers were quite close together, although one was taller than the other three as if those were its escorts. The steep walls were smooth as if they had been cut cleanly with a knife, preventing any access. From afar could be seen the marks left by projectiles.

  “How do the inhabitants get into the city?” Ságamas wondered aloud. “By the bastard mermaids, I don’t understand a thing! Don’t they ever leave? Do they always live isolated from the rest of the world?”

  “I’ve never been to Kathanas, so I know nothing of its people’s habits,” Mérdmerén answered. “When I was young, I heard talk about it as a spectacle that overwhelms you with its beauty. Kathanas is the most important architectural achievement of all time. The city has defended the Empire for four centuries.”

  Mérdmerén was expecting to start an interesting conversation with the sailor and the witch, but his companions’ minds were elsewhere. They continued, impressed by the view. Nobody remembers me in the North, Mérdmerén thought. At least, I hope not.

  Mérdmerén was already breathing the nobleman’s air he had to leave behind for so long. His posture and his gaze were transformed. His movements were those of a great lord.

  After leaving Kathanas behind and turning in the c
oin that marked them as safe to pass, the travelers reached a road with several lanes by the mountainside. It was in good condition. They could tell that the Empire looked after this road. The difference between the North and the South was enormous.

  The wildlife had also changed. There were tall cypress trees in this area with long branches and ancient roots. The ground was covered with prickly yet elegant plants with flowers that were both wild and beautiful.

  The birds here were black and white like zebras, and bigger, with stronger legs than in the South. The sun itself seemed to shine differently.

  “Welcome to the North!” cried Mérdmerén, who was already picturing himself in the Palace of Háztatlon dressed in gold and expensive furs from Érliadon, adored by his subjects and honored throughout Háztatlon. He could almost hear the sound of the streets, the buzz of the markets, the smell of food, and the taste of the air. He was completely transported.

  The moment did not last long. Mérdmerén saw from the look on the sailor’s face that he was making a fool of himself and felt ashamed. He came back to himself and to his role as the good deserter he was. At the foot of the mountain, after leaving the Path of the Fallen, the travelers mounted their steeds again and trotted on toward the palaces of the North.

  ***

  They only stopped once to drink and eat at a little shop they found by the roadside. The hovel had no name, nor did it look as if it were well-known. An aged woman was cooking along with a girl in her twenties who must have been her daughter.

  For a couple of crowns, they offered simple dishes. The travelers enjoyed the rest and the food, then resumed their journey.

  Towards six in the evening, when the light was already failing, and the trees and the birds seemed to be gathering themselves in for the night, not far away, they saw a very large house, or a small palace, with several torches, tables, and candles around it. When they went closer, they saw it was a hotel: The Can-Tin.

  People were drinking at the tables, women dancing to the rhythm of a violin played by a drunkard, and men playing cards while they downed their beer.

  There were at least fifty or so people. A smell of resinous wood, tobacco, and exquisite stew filled the atmosphere. It also smelled of liquor and sweat. Mérdmerén smiled. It was impossible not to remember the good moments in the eating-houses of the South.

  The hotel entrance was plain but clean and neat. A boy no older than fifteen came running out to meet them and took their reins.

  “Jamie at your service, my lords,” he said with a bow. “Leave me your horses, I’ll look after them for only one crown. I’ll give them a currycomb and leave them as good as new.”

  “New?” Ságamas burst out. “That’s impossible, lad, unless you try and give birth to them yourself.” The sailor laughed at his joke but soon stifled his amusement when he saw the look Mérdmerén gave him.

  The boss hesitated but relaxed when he saw ten other horses being tended to in a hut that seemed to belong to the hotel. “I’ll give you two crowns, and you can take extra good care of them. And also, keep your wits about you; I might call on your services. I pay well, lad, so don’t go too far away and don’t betray me.”

  The boy smiled. The surprise was noticeable on his beardless face since very seldom did this place see people with manners like this.

  The good pay comforted him, and he took the horses away with more care than usual. Going up the five steps to the door, they could already hear pleasant music. Mérdmerén pushed the door open and was welcomed by a delicious aroma as well as a sizeable number of men and women talking animatedly.

  He was transported back to his days as a bandit when he frequented brothels, although some of these women had a discreet and elegant look. This hotel must be a crossroads of the most varied kind.

  Cured meat, chorizo, and other delicacies were on display on the counter beside the bar. A waiter with long white whiskers greeted them with a broad smile.

  “Welcome to The Can-Tin Hotel!” said a waitress. “We can offer you the best of our stable.”

  Rather than a woman, she looked like a well-developed girl. Her features resembled those of the waiter and young Jamie. It was clear that it was a family business.

  Mérdmerén, unable to contain himself, glanced down at the juicy breasts of the girl, who enhanced her virtues with a tight corset. She blushed, glad to catch the attention of a foreigner with such bright armor.

  “We’ll be wanting two rooms and the best of your amenities,” Mérdmerén said with a wolfish grin. “Also, hot food and beer. We’re leaving tomorrow at dawn, so please tell Jamie to have our horses ready.

  “I pay well, I’m a nobleman coming back to his lands. Here are a few crowns to pay for our food, and a few more so you treat us with a touch of finesse. You know what I mean. Do we understand each other?”

  The girl weighed the pouch of crowns and opened her eyes wide. Some of the customers noticed and began to stare. The waiter glared at the girl to encourage her to look lively.

  “Well now! Follow me this way, and I’ll show you your rooms! Mama Yula is about to finish a delicious stew which I’m sure you’ll like. Welcome!”

  Mérdmerén smiled, the sailor cleared his throat, and the witch was suspicious. Mérdmerén was behaving like something he was not, and his companions were not happy about the change.

  When Ságamas peered into the room the girl showed them, he thought it was only just better than uncomfortable. It was a chamber of dark wood with two straw mattresses and an old table with a candle in the middle. The latrine—there was one per floor—had to be shared with the other customers.

  “The other room, where the—” she cleared her throat. “—the lady will sleep, is this one here.” It was a small room adjoining that of Mérdmerén and Ságamas. There were three straw beds.

  “They’re not very luxurious rooms,” Mérdmerén said. “But they’ll do. We’ll take them for the night. Is dinner ready?”

  Ságamas grimaced. The boss was talking as if he were a governor giving instructions to his subjects. What flea had bitten him?

  ***

  When the stew was ready, the three travelers were placed at a table in a corner between the bar and the wall near a group of what seemed to be landowners of the area. They were downing enormous quantities of ribs and beer.

  “Waiter!” Mérdmerén called with a wave. Ságamas and Hexilda were getting tired of hearing him using that tone of authority as if he were the king of the world.

  “A glass of the strongest liquor you have and make it a double. Be quick! I’m thirsty, and I don’t want to have to wait.”

  The waiter looked at him with large, cautious eyes and smiled. “You’re not from around, are you? You’re one of the pleasantest customers I’ve ever seen. Where are you from?”

  Several people turned to look at Mérdmerén. They were very showily dressed.

  “We come from the South, seeking the pleasures of the North,” he replied, with a partial smile that seemed to say imbecile.

  “Well, well,” the waiter said, visibly uneasy. “What part of the South, sir?” he added obsequiously.

  Mérdmerén swallowed the lump in his throat. “From—” he cleared his throat. “From a remote village called San San-Tera. One that was destroyed a few years ago, in case you don’t remember. And you are?” he asked, to change the course of the conversation.

  “I’m Bofo, the owner of this hotel. And what’s your name, sir?”

  A silence fell on the bar. Even the troubadour stopped playing. The sailor and the witch were already expecting the worst. Hexilda was grasping her staff firmly, Ságamas clenched his teeth and clutched his dagger.

  “My name is Arbitrator, a landowner of the QuepeK’Baj. I’ve come on business together with my mother, Esposante, and a faithful sailor, Margón. We’re going to Merromer to try for some export trade across the Early Sea.”

  The sailor and the witch glanced at each other unsurely. Mérdmerén could not even remember his lies and had
already changed their names.

  “Welcome to my humble abode, Lord Arbitrator,” the man said with a smile that left a bad impression on Mérdmerén and his friends. The others at the bar had already lost interest.

  Mérdmerén drank the double shot. The waitress served the sailor and witch something that looked like beer in wooden cups. It was slightly warm, and they gave a start; they had heard that beer was sometimes adulterated with urine to increase profits.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Ságamas asked, a little aggressively. “Do you want us killed or what? We’ve just come into the North, and already you’re little Lord Know-It-All. You’re managing to get us disliked by everyone we meet, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they wanted to teach us a lesson or rob us!

  “We have to act prudently. Let me remind you that there’s a price on your head, and it wouldn’t surprise me if someone recognized you. Already, several people have looked at you oddly. And what’s all this business of throwing money about as if our pockets were full of it? Do you think you’re rich? The crowns Trágalar gave us are the only money we have, and there’s still a long way before we get to Háztatlon. Don’t be stupid!”

  “He’s right,” Hexilda said. “I’m picking up a strange feeling in this place. It’s as if the people suspect something. Give them a reason to believe we’re a group of deserters, and there’s no question that they’ll go for us. Nobody wants deserters in the Empire.”

  Mérdmerén did not seem to be listening. His mind was elsewhere. The truth was that something had changed in him from the moment he set foot on northern soil. It was like reliving the dream he was longing to get back for himself.

  The waitress left them three plates filled to the brim with meat, vegetables, herbs, and sauce. The aroma alone was nourishing. The girl had adjusted her corset, and now her breasts were hidden.

  She appeared nervous and avoided the travelers’ eyes, particularly those of Mérdmerén. The owner of the hotel watched them from the counter.