by Marc Mulero
“What would Fata do? He would jump without another thought. He could get out of anything, could travel anywhere, except escape from him.” Eres’ eye twitched. “What if Seren is waiting on the other side? What if I’ve been misled down this path?”
And as if his body decided to act on its own accord to subvert the mind, he took a deep breath and dove in.
Splash.
The sound of his body breaking the surface sounded further and further behind him as he zoomed through an underwater channel. He was traveling so fast that his cheeks were pressed back, his eyes pressured, and he couldn’t move his limbs if he tried.
An enchantment for sure, he thought. Just take the ride.
There was whiplash every time the current swooped him sharply in another direction. He didn’t very much like Sorcery, so far. Beside it being a whole other world far outside of his reach, it felt so aggressive, overwhelming. A complete surrender of control.
But then again, that was the point of this training, wasn’t it? To be constantly uncomfortable, to think and overcome challenges, to survive.
Being a Skrol sucks.
He thought about retreating into his esper. He could do it, he knew – wait out this crazy tunnel of clear blue – but then thought better of it in case he was thrust into some sort of threat. Thinking back to the Drigus set him on high alert, putting him on guard for the first time in a while.
Then he realized something. He hadn’t worried about losing air in over a minute.
What the, Eres began to flail in place like he was trying to break free of tight shackles. Air. I need air. He wanted to scream, but only bubbles came out.
Wait. Why does it feel like I’m not drowning?
He decided to pay closer attention to his surroundings and it turned out that every few seconds a ringlet of wave and bubble dispersed into him as he passed it, like he was flying through underwater hoops.
Air. He could breathe. These checkpoints were pumping oxygen into him somehow, which scared him a little. How far was he to go?
Woosh. He spun again in another direction, through crystal clear depths where iridescent light shined on his path.
‘Follow the light… always,’ he recalled. Whether the message could be trusted or not, who knew? But at least it was something to hold on to. Some inkling that he wasn’t completely off course.
When the channel flipped him over onto his back, he noticed something unexpected - the suns were gleaming high above him, all three, indistinct and wavering with the endless layers of water separating him from them. But it was true, he wasn’t in those deep, dark underground caves anymore.
Where am-
A school of fish dispersing over his head cut off the thought.
Life, down here? I haven’t seen any other living beings besides plants for I don’t know how long!
More bubbles pulsed into his nose for another breath, and before any more revelations could be had, the swirling channel curved sharply upward. The suns were looming closer into view, then crack.
Eres broke water. He was shot upward into open air, legs flailing for a hot second as gravity caught up with him – that feeling of free-fall, his stomach dropping. But then he recovered and stuck the landing as gracefully as possible, arms held out for balance.
Once he regained his bearings, he drew his blade immediately, leading with it while tiptoeing forward. Everything in that place was bright, from the suns peeking through a thick translucent ceiling to the sparkling walkway beyond some snowy hills. His eyes leveled again.
“Another vast space… but not barren,” he whispered.
Thump. The whole ground shook.
“Not at all.”
Fresh snow crunched under his feet, water dripped from his hair, hands and shoes. He blindly navigated one hand into his bag to check it. It was dry… the food, tomes and all. A sigh of relief.
Thump. Another deep vibration.
His muscle memory, his instincts, they were all returning to him, because they had to. Whatever lurked on the other side of that hill was obviously of grave threat. Massive. It had to be. There was no other explanation for those boisterous footsteps.
He turned the corner of a hill slowly, peeking out to get a look at the natural archway ahead to where a thin luminescent stream of water wriggled. Follow the light, he thought.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Eres froze in place. It was coming closer.
Just stay still. There will be a time to make a break for it. Just stay still.
And then a roar shook the space so hard that his vision trembled, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
He’d heard that noise before.
Where? He backed up, trying to think. Oh Mustae. He recalled the vision in his esper that Masarian Bo had sent him to find: the one of his grandfather, Alres, who’d slit an Aegod’s throat.
“No,” he mouthed. “Not an Aegod. I can’t fight an Aegod.”
But all of his thoughts ceased when he saw its giant claws step into plain view. Muscle, so much thick muscle. He traced his gaze upward to the crystalized matter growing on its legs, its backward curves at the knees, its scaly arms, threatening wings attached at the shoulder, a smoking snout, broken glass for eyes with an Eplon’s iris, and that tightly wound spike jutting out of the back of its head.
Terrifying.
Eres was startled. He didn’t want to move for fear that this thing would sense him. But surely it could already smell that some new flesh had entered its domain.
The Aegod huffed and pivoted, a thick spade-shaped tail whipping about with a mind of its own. Every back muscle flexed like a rolling river. This was the apex. And to see it with his own eyes, experiencing actual live fear, gave real weight to the beast.
About half the size of a Kor wing. This one must be young compared to the one my grandfather fought.
He dug as quietly as he could for his impeller. No way that thing can fit through the archway down the road. I just have to get there. No problem. I’m fast.
Some confidence returned. He’d flown into storms before, survived Seren Night. He could survive this too, right?
Thump. Thump.
It stomped on, sniffing more feverishly, knowingly. Its hollow ears shifted all around like radars, trying to pinpoint movement to find the trespasser.
Eres bent low, refusing to move his feet until necessary. No noise, Eres. No noise. He cranked one notch on his impeller at a time, wincing after each snap, praying that the Aegod wouldn’t pick up on it.
Then click. The impeller spun at his back and thrust him forward with a visible gust of wind. He was a blur – zooming past the Aegod’s tremendous body and evoking a roar that nearly blew out his ear drums. Instant migraine mid-flight.
But he landed. Two hard steps, one hand touching ground to regain balance, the other holding his ringing ear.
Keep running.
The ground was shaking so violently now that he felt as though he were walking a tightrope. Miniature avalanches were tumbling all around him.
“Two hops to the archway, at most!” He took a deep breath and burst forth again.
Don’t look back…
He landed feet first once more, kicking snow up after every footstep. He could feel the wind of the Aegod’s movements, the steam of its breath, the pound of its massive stride. It was gaining on him; a shadow was overcoming him.
One more hop.
Woosh. The Aegod swiped its colossal claws to slice him into five even pieces, but it hit nothing. Eres flew with a perfectly timed burst, appropriately distanced. It didn’t matter how fast that monster was, he was faster. He was going to make it.
He crashed down hard this time, legs feeling like jelly as he took two off-balance steps before rolling into a somersault and back onto his feet.
The archway was only a couple of gars away now, twenty paces at most. I’m going to make it. A smile began to form - an excited one, maybe even a taunting one. Now he could finally look back… it was okay
because he was out of harm’s way.
That grin was wiped away quickly however, even if he was safe. Having a good look at what produced that deep battle cry – the defined mandibles, four rows of bottom teeth, black forked tongues jolting about – all of it terrified him.
“What the f-”
Crash.
He felt his nose and mouth smash into something solid before he bounced backward onto his back. His face was throbbing, blood pooling into his nostrils, vision blurry. He was stunned.
What the hell just happened?
He lifted his head to see what should’ve been open space. His eyebrows knitted as he looked up at the archway. How could I have missed that?
But when the blinding pain subsided, more became clear - there was a thin layer of iridescent film covering the area – an enchantment. “Of course.” He scoffed while scrambling to his feet. A renewed sense of dread overcame him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he felt the huffs of that awful beast behind him.
He had to act quickly. And so he burst blindly aside to avoid from being mauled once more.
Then out of nowhere, as if things couldn’t get any worse, the high translucent ceiling faded to black by some clawing darkness, like a storm cloud was forming. Maybe it was yet another form of Sorcery triggered by his attempt to exit. It had to be.
The dread was deepening. The scene no longer smelled like fresh snow and cool breeze. It smelled like fear… his own. Sweat, improper bathing, hopelessness. And the looming darkness exacerbated it all. He was a walking corpse, wasn’t he? This was just the inside of an oversized coffin. He was dead. There was no scenario in a thousand years that would end with him defeating an Aegod.
His head was still in a fog from suffering the beast’s roar up close, one ear still ringing. He huffed… what would his last thoughts be? Why did everything feel so blank? Like he was an animal - a fansa - about to be eaten by a sur.
He was more than that, wasn’t he? There it went, finally, his ooma, his fata, then Windel. They all flashed fast to diffuse some of the terror. It was only then that he realized he had the best escape of all in the face of certain death: he could retreat into his esper right now… just fade away into the Eternal without suffering any more pain. The easy way out.
Don’t be a coward, he told himself. And with this challenge came something else: a lifeline within Rudo.
“This way,” a familiar voice beckoned.
Eres didn’t even question it, nor try to put two and two together. He just went.
He stopped behind a snow mound; he heard nothing, before his gaze moved left and then right. “Who’s there?” he whispered.
“I wonder,” the voice contemplated, “how many Skrol lives will this recording save? Yes, it was him. Ramillion. A rotten devil for putting us through this.” Proctor Wudon’s deathly voice finally clicked in Eres’ head. And as it did, his figure formed from the shadows right beside him – cloak long and billowing, smoke curling at his feet, those same ghouls crawling about the ceiling to bolster his presence. It was him, alright.
“Peer beyond the mound, traveler. That Aegod is real. I’ve seen the bones of your forerunners to prove it. Do not panic though. I’m projecting my voice in ten directions. It cannot know where the true one is… that’s reserved for ulmanity’s inner ears.
“Alright fool, straighten up, listen, for time is short. I will grant you the same protection my ancestor granted me in here - a way forward. By now, I’m sure you noticed the darkness that I’ve summoned. Well, what are you waiting for? Peer out at the Aegod’s body within the shrouds. Yes. Do not question, do not be foolish. Look. It’s only without the light that you can see what I speak of. You need the darkness to see the shimmer of a Crule scar. Look at its chest and its back.”
Eres did as he was told, and to his surprise, the massive beast was lit up like stains under a blacklight. Different colors, each one – some green, others white, red, purple.
“You must strike the Aegod, and you must live. These are the conditions to break this ancient enchantment.”
Eres was dumbfounded, more scared than he’s ever been, even more so than when his father had sacrificed himself in front of him - but that was more horror than fear. This was imminent death, touching him on a more primal level than a uemon one.
“Traveler,” Wudon said, “if you are not in possession of a Crule blade, depart immediately, back from whence you came, or succumb to the fate of the others.”
Eres ignored the message since it wasn’t applicable, and instead watched the beast thrash around at the sound of Wudon’s omnipresent voice.
“They say we are not meant to help one another as Skrols. Well, as the inheritor of the Dumos esper, I say that there is no other way to wade through the darkness. We will not suffer alone, traveler.”
Eres got goosebumps from the proclamation. This wasn’t the proctor he’d met back in Kor. This one was more vibrant, before he’d experienced the true depths of the Dark esper, for sure. He still had the same edginess, but something was different… more hopeful maybe, encouraging.
“When I disperse, when this octor recording runs its course, the light will return, and the Aegod’s eyes will be unadjusted for an instant. Strike then, traveler; make your mark and be gone from this hell.”
Eres was beginning to amp himself up with young Wukaldred standing tall at his heels. It gave him strength even though he wasn’t really there. His father said it himself – it was the three of them: Agden, Seren, and Wukaldred that shared the same level of skill. To even have a shadow of him in his presence at this lonely crossroads was inspiring.
“However, in these moments, you cannot be foolish. If you wield an esper, be responsible, not idiotic.”
There was that brashness that Eres remembered.
“Name your bequeathed. Do not leave it up to that foul sorcerer to assign another. It is your choice.”
“Name my bequeathed?” Eres tore his eyes from the beast to look up at Wudon.
The proctor’s gaze was distant, chin raised, hands crossed behind his back. “Choose the worthiest to endure this fate. Then the esper will call to that person if you perish. Yes… it’s true. And you can always change your choice later on. But I urge you to make a decision now if you haven’t already. I will stall. Do it now.”
I can choose my bequeathed? How come no one ever told me? Where are the books on that?
The ground kept shaking from roars and stomps, jolting him to attention every time, reminding him how real the threat in front of him truly was.
“Okay, okay. I choose… ummm. My ooma already has one, giving two would be against Skrol ritual. Windel? No, I can’t subject her to this madness. I lov-…” He cleared this throat. “Ohndee, no, too hot-headed and unpredictable. Crow. Hah! Ilfrid wouldn’t want it.” Eres turned around again to face Wukaldred. “I don’t know proctor… I don’t know who to choose!”
The ghouls flittering down the walls began to converge towards Wudon, telling Eres the time was almost up.
“Kyta, she’s smart, kind-hearted, helpful. She subscribes to these trials. It should be her.”
But I just met her, a voice in his head protested.
“Go now, traveler. Begin your advance. Go!” The ghouls were swirling around him like some obsidian portal meant to consume his essence. And as if the voice itself had a tangible quintessence, Eres was upright and ready – blade in one hand and impeller in the other.
He was a soldier, and a damn good one. His reflexes were his gift. He would use them.
“Thank you, proctor.”
Eres took one quick look at the ceiling to see a snippet of light peeking out from Wudon’s summoned blanket of darkness. The octor play-through was receding, which meant it was time he revealed himself from behind the mound.
Next, he rounded the beast within the darkness, using the winds of his impeller to burst him onto a nearby hill to get a closer look. So many Crule scratches. What color would his be?
The confidence of having Wudon in his ear was everything he needed in these moments, and he had to use it before crippling fear overcame him once again. He didn’t feel alone. He wasn’t alone. Remnants of his forerunners were there with him. That’s what octors and espers did, it kept those memories alive.
You can do this, Eres. You must. He had to soar and strike and be gone again in an instant.
Another burst of wind pushed him toward the beast’s back, its monstrous wall of muscle coming closer into vision. Eres’ sword reeled back.
Fly, Eres. Fly.
His jaw was clenched in anticipation. One misstep and he would be cut in two. He’d never fought something so big, so daunting, and when he realized what a speck of dust he was up close to it, he nearly dropped his blade.
No. Confidence… keep it.
His grip retightened. He wanted to roar as he made the slash, but Crule did it for him. His crimson blade glistened with the black smoky Crule that Ohndee had artificed. And at the last second, just as he was about to swing and make his mark, the Aegod’s head turned – eye of broken glass centered in on him, its wings unfurling with awareness.
The beast moved so fast that Eres barely had time to blast himself to the floor. Anyone watching would’ve sworn that it had Eres in its taloned grasp, that it swiped him up. But they would be mistaken. He reformed within a puff of snow, legs in fiery pain from crashing into the ground. What’s worse, he was now located between the beast’s two giant clawed feet, stuck below its monstrous arms spread wide in position to clap down and crush him.
Woosh.
Eres felt the wind of the Aegod’s next swoop but didn’t stick around to be smashed by it. Instead he flew forward, in between the Aegod’s legs in an attempt to get behind it once more. Mist was everywhere from all of the sliding movement and impeller bursts. It was a good distraction. But another hesitant glance to the ceiling told him that not much else was going his way – soon the suns would be revealed – he could tell by the rays of light slanting farther through with every passing second. Soon his opportunity to strike will have passed him.