“There are a multitude of gods,” Devos said. “The primary ones you now know about. Though there is one other god that is as powerful as all of the others combined.”
“Oh, which god is that?”
“Death,” Devos said softly. “In the end, when all is said and done, death will come for us all. We try and follow the ways of Duun and Karma for as long as we can, but soon enough, not even their blessings can halt the inevitable. Once somebody dies, their essence travels to the spirit lands. If they had led a life that respected the gods, then Karma may grant them a blessing by being reborn back into the world once more. Those that violated the pact of the gods on the other hand, would face unimaginable torments.”
Rion looked down on the floor. The words struck him hard. He hoped that his friend Aertos would find peace and be reborn someday. The jumble of harsh memories in his mind threatened to overwhelm him, but he used the mental techniques taught to him by Miri and Zedne to hold back the tide of dark thoughts. After a short minute, he succeeded in pushing the nightmares back into the recesses of his mind, but just barely.
Devos sensed the boy’s melancholy. The old man stood up and patted Rion on his shoulder. “I know you have been through a lot, but you are among friends now. I will brew some brown tea, give me a minute.”
Rion’s face brightened once tea was served. He drank the steaming liquid slowly, the bitter taste was rejuvenating to him. Devos felt that he had been subjected to enough teachings that day, so the boy left once he had finished his cup. Rion wandered the dusty streets for the next hour. Several of the younger boys invited him to play with them, but he declined. He noticed a couple of the older boys just sitting by the side of a hut, staring at him silently. Elder Zedne had told him that he would be getting a lot of curious looks, since the color of his hair and pale skin would be considered as an exotic novelty.
The boy slowly made his way towards the eastern edge of town where the algae farms were. This part of the village stood on the banks of the Silt Sea, the sand in front of him had taken a darker, more grayish hue. Looking around, Rion quickly noticed Miri standing on a high bluff, overlooking several teams of algae farmers. The boy grinned as he ran up to her.
Miri gave him a slight smile as soon as he saw him getting close. She held her spear on her other hand while she waved at him. “Welcome, Rion. How was your day with the teller?”
The boy squinted in the bright sunlight. “I learned a great many things today, protector.”
Miri giggled as she kept her eyes on the men and women dredging the silt below. “More tales about the gods and even more songs, I bet. And you do not have to keep addressing me as protector. Just Miri is fine.”
“Alright, Miri. What are they doing below?”
“They are breaking the upper crust of the silt bed. That is usually the place where they would find the green algae, the primary foodstuff we use for our soups,” Miri said as she glanced back at the boy.
“Is the algae abundant over there?”
“Here,” she took off her cloak and wrapped it over the boy’s bare shoulders to help shield him from the sun’s rays. “As for your question, the answer is sometimes.” She pointed to one of the men who was leading the others. “Elder Etul over there is an experienced farmer. He usually knows where the green algae are hidden just by looking at the topsoil.”
The boy held a hand above his eyes as he peered out towards the others. “How much of that stuff do they find?”
“On a good day, each of them will return with a couple of handfuls each,” Miri said. “On a bad day, considerably less. If one finds only a small patch of the algae, they will mark it down and return to it in the future when it has had a chance to grow.”
“If there are enough algae lying around, why not just keep eating them? Why hunt for beasts?”
Miri couldn’t help but smile. While many children would usually ask silly questions, this boy always asked the right ones. She liked that. “The algae will keep us alive, but it is not enough. Meat provides far more nourishment, especially for the very young and the very old.”
“I see. What about the black algae?”
“There are a lot more black algae that will be found when our farmers forage like this,” Miri said. “But the black colored kind cannot be eaten. They do make great building material when you combine them with silt, though. We also coat our leather with the stuff, for it helps to bind the material together.”
“Are there other kinds of algae?”
“Well, there is the red algae,” Miri said. “Very rare in finding that one, though. Zedne considers the red kind to be an effective medicine when treating wounds or the fever, for it kills infected flesh. Then there’s the yellow and purple algae, but I would not ingest those either, for they are very deadly poisons to us.”
Rion nodded as he kept staring at the farmers doing their work. “Why are you keeping watch over them?”
“The poisoned norpions inhabit this part of the land, they are asleep beneath the silt at this time of the day,” Miri said. “These beasts usually do not bother with us, but since our algae farmers scrape off the topsoil, they may inadvertently disturb those slumbering creatures. Most of the norpions we encounter are quite small, so their sting leaves nothing more than a red, painful welt on one’s skin. On rare occasions though, the group may sometimes end up disturbing one of the larger ones, or maybe even an octapede. If that happens, then I will need to react quickly by using my Vis to tame the animal, to give time for the farmers to move away, or if failing that, take its life with my spear.”
The boy understood. “Why not just use your mindsense to detect the beasts before the farmers encounter them?”
Miri giggled as she shook her head. “Because that would be too taxing for me. Using one’s Vis requires great concentration and effort, and after prolonged use I am exhausted. If I keep using my power on every patch of sand, I will end up as an old crone, older than Elder Zedne, and I may not be able to use my gifts when they will be most needed.”
Rion started laughing. “Elder Zedne, a crone?”
Miri blushed. She shouldn’t have said that. “Please do not repeat what I have said to her.”
The boy was still chuckling. “Do not worry, Miri. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good,” Miri said. Despite her duties and her vows to stay aloof from being too attached to anyone, she was really starting to like the boy. When they first met, Rion was guarded and fearful to all of them. But with their loving care, the boy was opening up as a bright and cheerful lad, highly intelligent, and he returned their kindness back twofold. Nevertheless, she sensed a trove of secrets still lay behind Rion’s suppressed memories, and she was innately curious to find out more. But the boy needed time to learn the ways of the tribe, Elder Zedne decreed. It was not the right time to pry yet. When the time came for the whole truth to be revealed, Miri hoped that the boy would be strong enough to face it.
As the group of algae farmers began to make their way back towards the village, Nyx came running over towards Miri and the boy. “Miri,” the teen girl said. “I have sad news.”
Miri turned to look at her. “What is it?”
“After a long illness, Elder Neris has passed away,” Nyx said slowly. “Her body is on the healer’s slab, and is being prepared for the ritual of the dead.”
Miri nodded. Rion was about to learn something new again.
Chapter 6
Administrator Odrin pursed his lips while holding up the final vial of the boy’s distilled essence in front of him. Shafts of slanted red sunlight beamed diagonally across the great chamber from the tall, narrow windows, irradiating the motes of dust in the air. The red crimson liquid in the small glass tube was nothing more than a few drops, and he silently cursed that traitorous worm Aertos for stealing the child away from them. Even now, he could feel his own weakness steadily taking control over his old, frail body. He was nearing the end of his time, and he grew more fearful as the days went on.
Removing the small stopper from the ampoule, Odrin tilted his head upwards as he placed the end of the tiny container to his lips and drank the last of the crimson liquid. As the rejuvenating effect began to flow through his veins, he experienced a mild sensation of lightheadedness, before he finally opened his eyes once more. He was feeling a lot better now. The constant aches from his creaking limbs had dissipated, at least for awhile. Odrin’s lungs felt more robust, there was no longer a shortage of breath either. Even his blurry vision began to coalesce, putting the entire room back into focus. He would not need to use his reading crystal for the next few days.
Odrin rose from his tall chair and walked over to a long table near the center of the room. Lying on the smooth stone slab was a map of the nearby regions. The citadel of Doss lay in the center of the leather diagram. To the west was the dead city of Ceorath, now nothing more than a scattering of ruins. Over to the east lay the wastelands, a vast stretch of desert all the way round the Great Silt Sea. The northern and southern reaches had been unexplored for over a thousand cycles and were deemed to be deathlands, places of nothingness. Odrin placed a crooked finger from the citadel’s location and traced an invisible line eastwards. Aertos must have taken the boy to the few tribes that are still out there, he thought. The two men I had sent after them had clearly failed, lest they would have returned by now.
Turning away from the map, Odrin frowned as he slowly walked back to his chair. If the boy was not recovered, then he would soon meet the gods. He ran his bony hand along his shoulder-length, silvery mane before he carefully placed his scrawny buttocks on the stiff throne. He had done everything he could, now it was just a matter of time. The old man closed his eyes and tried to enjoy a short rest without the customary aches and pains. If the soreness was to become too great, then he wondered if he had enough courage to kill himself.
He was not aware of how much time had passed the moment he closed his eyes. When Odrin opened them again, it was because he was suddenly jolted awake by the sounds of distant doors slamming and the angry shouts coming from the nearby corridors. Odrin refocused his mind while storing a short spurt of Vis in case he needed it. His hands clutched the sides of the chair as he used all his strength to lift himself up. Odrin’s legs felt weak, but he needed to reach the long table in order to get his steel dagger lying at the far side of it. The old man concentrated as he used part of his Vis to power his legs when he began to take a few steps forward.
Just as he started to limp towards the table, the double doors at the far end of the room were suddenly swung open with such a terrific force that a harsh current of air nearly blew the huge map from the table and staggered him. Odrin grabbed onto the side of the counter to steady himself while a man walked into the chamber.
The stranger seemed to be on the short side, the cross-hilted bastard sword he carried at his waist looked almost as tall as he was. The man had pale skin, like ivory, though Odrin could see occasional blue veins along the stranger’s neck and forehead as he got closer. A mop of curly black hair on top of the head seemed natural enough, but what truly set him apart were the pointed ears along the man’s sides. He looked young, probably around thirty cycles or thereabouts. The stranger wore a steel cuirass over his chest, along with knee-high plated greaves down to his boots and a furred cloak was draped over his shoulders. When he got to within twenty feet of him, Odrin could see the stranger’s eyes were a set of bright crimson.
Odrin steeled himself. Even though the other man radiated an aura of dread, he was still master of this citadel. He held up a bony finger and pointed to the intruder. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
The short man’s eyes darted around back and forth, scanning and noticing the little things around him. He didn’t even seem to notice Odrin standing there. It was as if he was the only living person in the hall. He was either delusional, or deliberately ignoring Odrin’s presence. The man walked over to where the map was, leaned over to carefully look at the areas indicated on it. After studying a part near the indicated markings of the wastes, the man rubbed his chin with a gauntleted hand, revealing the metal bracers over his forearms.
Odrin’s anger began to overcome his fear. He started to mentally gather his remaining reserves of Vis. If this interloper wanted a battle, then he would have it. “You are standing in front of the Administrator of Doss. To ignore me is an insult I will not endure. I will ask you one more time, who are you? I demand you respond to me!”
The stranger suddenly jerked his head up as if he saw something up in the high-domed ceiling. Then his eyes once again began to skim through the room, before finally staring right at Odrin. “Oh, there you are,” the young man said. “Did you not get the message?”
Odrin’s rage turned to momentary confusion. “Message? What message?”
“The message that was sent to you of my impending arrival,” the man said.
“I have received no message,” Odrin said curtly.
The man instantly began to run his gauntlets along the folds of his cloak. A few moments later, he produced a small stone tablet, holding it up in front of him. “Oh, it seems I have been carrying the message with me all this time. Here,” he said as he tossed the stone towards Odrin.
The old man shrieked as he used his frail legs to get into position to catch the small piece of carved rock. Odrin managed to snag it in his right palm, but he had leaned too far ahead and he started to fall. Just as his face was about to connect with the smooth stone floor of the chamber, some invisible force suddenly stopped him so he lay almost horizontal just a few feet off the ground. Odrin looked up, and he saw the stranger had his hand out and had used his own Vis to stop his fall.
Odrin quickly recovered from his surprise as he regained his balance and stood upright. While the stranger withdrew his hand back within the folds of his cloak, Odrin looked at the engraving on the stone tablet. He read the runes, then looked up in awe. “Y-you are Lord Slane? Executor of the Grand Magus?”
Slane grinned. His mouth was filled with small, razor sharp teeth. “There, now that our proper introductions have been made, it is time to get down to the task at hand, Administrator Odrin.”
Odrin’s face was still a mask of bewilderment. “Task? What task?”
“The Grand Magus sent a message to all the citadels in the last ten cycles with orders to eliminate the children,” Slane said. “All but one of the citadels acknowledged that the task had been done. I am now standing in the very one that did not.”
“Y-yes of course, we did what the Grand Magus had ordered,” Odrin said. “We sent the message to signify it was done as well. Did you not get it?”
Slane smirked. “You are lying to me.”
Odrin frowned. “I am telling you the truth! Search the citadel. You will not find one of the children here. The orders were carried out!”
Slane turned and made a low whistle. A four legged creature came out from the open doorway and started to sniff around the room. Odrin gasped the moment he saw it. The beast was the size of a small boulder and was hairless, the purple veins on its pink flesh pulsated as it moved rapidly around the chamber. Large, pointy ears covered the sides of the head, with a snout protruding from underneath its eye slits. It had short, stubby legs that ended in claws. The beast growled the moment Odrin tried to move backwards.
“I would suggest you do not move lest you anger my pet canis,” Slane said. “You see, when it hunts, it expects the prey to run. So unless you wish to be killed, then it is best to be as still as a slab of rock.”
Beads of sweat began to form on Odrin’s forehead as the beast moved past him. The old man twisted his head slightly as he observed the canis jump up on top of his chair. The creature started poking around the leather cushion and the sides using its bulbous nose. Odrin’s eyes opened wide as the animal found the empty glass ampoule. The canis gently gripped the glass tube with its dagger like teeth before jumping off the chair and ran back towards Slane. The moment it got in front of th
e executor, the canis sat on its hind legs and opened its maw to reveal the vial.
Slane picked up the ampoule from the animal’s mouth and examined it. Then he stuck out his forked tongue and licked the edge of the container. He looked back at Odrin with a wicked smile on his face.
Odrin was breathing heavily now. “Th-that vial was taken a long time ago! I had been keeping it for over a cycle in order to preserve its vitae!”
The canis started to growl once more. Slane bent down and platted the top of its head and it quickly fell silent. Then executor stood fully upright again, this time with a menacing stare. “That is the second lie you have told me,” he said softly. “I must warn you, I will not tolerate a third.”
Odrin placed a hand on the table to prop himself up. The dagger was only a few feet away. “I-I am sorry. Yes, I admit it. We kept the child alive so we could drain his essence regularly. It was only done with the best intentions. As you can see, there are less than a dozen Magi left in this outpost by the wastes. The city we have been guarding has died out and we could no longer provide patrols to venture out to the tribal wastelands. We have sent numerous messages over the last fifty cycles begging for new recruits, yet the Grand Magus stayed silent all this time. Our members have grown old and weak. The boy’s vitae was the only way we could revitalize ourselves. Surely you can see the reasons for it.”
“A noble dialectic,” Slane mused. “Yet a violation, nonetheless. The Grand Magus believes that only strict discipline and adherence to his commands is what keeps the order of Magi from descending into chaos. As the chief administrator of this outpost, you were chosen because we felt we could trust you to do the will of Vis. While the Magi under you are scum for going along with this mad scheme, your betrayal is the cruelest one of all.”
Odrin scoffed. “We had to do something! Our order is dying out. Without the child’s vitae, myself and at least half of the others would have died long ago! Can you not see? There are less than a dozen of us left here. How can we follow the commands of the Grand Magus when we are all dead?”
Lands of Dust (The Dying World Book 1) Page 7