by Pedro Urvi
“Who’s put a price on my life? Who’s going to pay you for my death?” Komir asked, even while he struggled to make sense of what was going on inside him.
“Only Lotas knows that, and it’s all the same to us who’s paying, just as long as we get paid,” said the leader of the band. He laughed loudly. “You’ll die without knowing who wants your head. Although what you don’t know, and you’re going to like this, is that it’s not just your head that has a price on it.”
“What are you saying? I don’t…”
“Your friends are surely dead by now. You might take that bit of information as a parting gift.”
All the men laughed whole-heartedly.
When Komir heard this, he realized he was not the only one to have fallen into a trap. His friends must have too, and the rage and fear he felt at that made the inner volcano of energy explode. He closed his eyes and felt the great jewel in the medallion fill with his energy and shine ardent-white. Unknown golden symbols formed in his mind. They seemed to flow from the gem itself, one after another, as if dancing in waves to form what looked like words. Then the words rearranged and formed a sentence, although he could not understand any of it.
The gem seemed animated by an intellect of its own, it was dictating a message to his mind which he could not understand. It was not Komir who was controlling what was happening but the Ilenian medallion. But what were those enigmatic symbols? What did that obscure sentence mean? The medallion was using his inner energy and summoning a sentence, a Phrase of Power. Komir was finally aware of something so strange that it left him breathless: the medallion was casting a spell through his own energy.
“I see you’ve got your eyes closed. Are you ready to face the journey of no return? Say your prayers, you’ll need them to cross hell,” said the leader of the band. He raised his sword ready to cut off his victim’s head with a single stroke.
At that instant, all the energy which the strange jewel was channeling burst forth from the medallion in Komir’s hand in a devastating explosion. The loud blast was followed by a blinding light which lit up the dark street in all directions. It hit the leader first, as he was closer. Straight away it expanded to strike the other four attackers, overwhelming them with devastating strength.
The power of the blast catapulted the five ruffians through the air. Their bodies broken by the brutal blow, they fell a few feet from Komir.
The Norriel, still in shock, looked at the fallen men and made an effort to clear his mind. He stood up and gathered his weapons. He was not sure the five men were dead, although they certainly looked it. One of them moaned in pain, and Komir cut his throat with a clean stroke. He watched the blood run down the neck and chest of the man. Half-closing his eyes he looked at the others. For an instant he felt doubts, remorse and guilt at what he was about to do. But if I let them live today, they might kill me tomorrow, he said to himself. Although he knew the deed would blacken his soul, he felt he had no choice, and he finished them off.
Unfortunately, it was much easier than he had expected.
The noise and brightness of the explosion had awakened the neighbors, and lights began to appear in the nearest windows. He did not want to have to explain what had just happened to the city guard, so he decided to disappear in search of his friends.
He ran with one thought in his mind: the medallion had cast a spell with intent and direction. It had not been a mere explosion of energy like the ones he had experienced before, without control or awareness. Komir knew nothing of magic, spells, runes or Phrases of Power, so he could not create magic. But the medallion could and did.
As he thought about it, he realized that his subconscious had wished to activate his own inner power and make something happen. Had the medallion understood what he wanted and acted in consequence? Did that Object of Power have an intelligence of its own? The mere possibility made the hair on his neck stand on end.
This Ilenian medallion can cast spells. It’s a weapon of great power. I must be careful to keep it safe. Very careful.
Along the hidden path
The way up to the summit was turning out difficult, a lot more so than Iruki had initially imagined. It was a day and a half since they had left their horses and begun to climb the overwhelming range in the heart of the Masig steppes. The majestic mountain rose like a rocky island in the middle of a calm sea of colorful vegetation. The highest peak was permanently covered in snow, seeming to melt into the infinite sky which crowned it. It was so high it touched the kingdom from which the gods watched the insignificant lives of mortals.
They had to escape, to go on climbing to the summit in order to hide from the relentless Norghanians who were combing the steppes in pursuit of them. She was aware that they would not stop until they caught them. She and the Assassin had killed Great Duke Orten, the brother of King Thoran of Norghana, and although that serpent had deserved the end he had met at her hand, there would be no pity for them, none at all. They had to hide up there, it was the only way Iruki could see to avoid that devil of a Tracker who had captured them, and whom they had managed to escape from by sheer good luck. Iruki had refused to hide among her people, the Blue Cloud of the Masig. She was trying at all costs to avoid an armed confrontation which would end with the Norghanians decimating her tribe.
Iruki was exhausted. Her aching body was begging her to stop, but she kept on between the boulders very carefully, a slip or a stumble would mean the end of their venture. This was not the first time she had climbed the sacred mountain of her people; her father had shown her the paths and secrets of the ascent of the splendid mountain. But she had never climbed so high and on her own, and it made her feel proud and scared at the same time. They were very near. They would soon reach the Fountain of Life.
If everything went as it should.
She remembered vividly the moment when her father, Kaune Eagle Warrior, had shown her the most precious treasure of their tribe: the sacred fountain which was the origin, the seed of her people. His pride had been almost tangible. It was a holy place for the Masig, the people of the steppes. The sky-blue fountain at the top of the mountain melted into the infinite heavens. The place was so beautiful that Iruki could find no words to describe it. This was where, according to the legends, her beloved people had come from. Those legends were epics full of color and myth, passed down by the elders from generation to generation. They were the people of the prairies, the lords of the plains, whose destiny was to rise someday as one and rule over the steppes from north to south and east to west. Many and rich were the legends of her people, they spoke of great warriors, of a free folk, strong and proud. It saddened Iruki to think that unfortunately her people lived only a hair’s-breadth away from being enslaved.
They’re no more than legends to feed the spirit of the Masig, to create hope in their broken hearts, to kindle the fire of life so that it doesn’t die under the tyrant boots of those empires which aim to crush our soul. Perhaps they’re only legends, but they bring hope, the seed of yearning. And who knows, perhaps one day it might sprout into a strong oak on which a great leader might stand up to the powerful enemy nations.
She stopped to dry the perspiration on her forehead with the edge of her suede shirt. She filled her lungs with the cold pure air of the mountain, which cleared her mind even though it did not relieve the exhaustion of her legs. She looked back to make sure that the silent assassin was following her. The stranger smiled wide and honestly, which comforted her. This enigmatic foreigner with slanting eyes was not a great talker, but physically he was a wonder. He had climbed without the least apparent effort, and seemed impervious to tiredness. In fact Iruki was convinced that the Assassin was immune to the elements, as well as to exhaustion. His breathing was always relaxed and regular, and the strain of the climb seemed to make no dent in his impressive resilience.
Iruki went on carefully towards the west along the narrow ledge, no more than two hand-spans wide. The cliff looked as if it had been carved out of the vertic
al mountain-side. On her right was the cold rocky wall of the mountain. On her left: the abyss, an endless precipice which threatened them at every step.
She went on, slowly and warily, until she reached a stretch which had sunk towards the abyss. The danger triggered the Masig’s senses, adrenalin ran through her whole body. She stared at this black hole into nothingness. The width to be crossed was no more than six hand-spans; she knew she could make it, but fear overpowered her. She tried to calm herself and focused on the situation. All she had to do was stay calm and concentrate. I can do it. It’s a small leap, just a small leap …across the void…across an endless fall to the abyss. Don’t be a fool! You can do it! Keep your balance and jump smoothly. Come on! Do it! Don’t think about it anymore, just do it!
She pointed at the danger with her hand and looked at her companion who nodded in understanding. Iruki fingered the cold grey rock on her right. She crouched and launched herself across the void. At once she recovered her balance and stood still for a moment, as if frozen in time. I did it! I managed! She was overjoyed. She breathed out in relief and relaxed. She had cleared the jump like a true Masig, her ancestors would be proud of her. She moved on and turned just in time to see the Assassin clear the obstacle with cat-like lightness. Iruki could sense his lethal instincts. Dressed in black he resembled a deadly wild panther. Where others stepped clumsily he appeared to float, as if his feet never touched the ground, as if it were impossible for his body to lose its harmony or balance for a single moment. He was a truly intriguing man. When he wrapped himself in his black cloak, he looked like a shadow from the world beyond.
Iruki smiled at him, shaking her head, and the Assassin replied by shrugging his shoulders and giving her an impish grin. The Masig continued the treacherous climb along the narrow ledge. She stopped a few steps away from a vaguely familiar turn. She searched for some sound in the space around her, for a whisper of distant happy times. And as if in reply to her wishes, an echo reached her on the wings of the freezing wind. The sound began as a distant murmur, gradually turning stronger until it was a steady muffled roar. She went on round the corner. The roar hit her from ahead filling her ears just as if a giant hand had been waiting for her.
She leaned on the rocky wall and contemplated one of the most impressive spectacles Mother Nature had ever created on the face of the earth: a huge waterfall, heavy with foam, which fell from the sky to the base of the colossal mountain, turning into a sea of white spray as it hit the rocks. The noise was so loud it muffled any other sound. An ocean of white water fell roaring to the steppes, to end in the great sacred lake of the Masig.
“Impressive!” shouted the Assassin, his hand to his mouth so she could hear him. “Truly extraordinary!”
“It’s unbelievably beautiful!” shouted Iruki back with all the strength of her lungs. “Awesome!”
“I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“My father showed it to me when I was younger. It’s a holy place for our people. Our legends tell how life began in this enormous waterfall that feeds the great lake down in the plain.”
“It’s huge! Where does all this water come from?”
“From the Fountain of Life. It’s a giant lake at the top of the mountain, between several of the highest peaks of the range!”
“Is that where we’re going?”
“Yes, it’s practically unreachable. Only the Masig know the secret pass to the top. It’s not much further. We have to go on!”
The Assassin pointed at the mass of water falling into the void. “But the cliff goes straight up into the waterfall. It will swallow us, and we’ll die!”
“Don’t worry, trust me. A little ahead we’ll leave the cliff. We’ll go up the wall at a secret spot, then into the waterfall through a hidden pass higher up. Follow me!”
Leaning against the wall, Iruki went on towards the waterfall. After a few careful steps the force of the huge fall became noticeable. The blast of wind and water hit her, making it difficult to stay close to the wall. She moved forward carefully so as not to be dragged down by the power of the water then turned and scanned the mountain-side for the hidden symbols her father had taught her to recognize. For an instant she was doubtful, but she was determined to find the secret way in. Their lives depended on it. A few moments later her determination was rewarded.
She took three steps to the left with her eyes fixed on a symbol which no stranger to those parts would have been able to make out. Only the Masig, trained from childhood, could recognize the marks which blended into the rock and were invisible to most people.
“Here’s where we have to begin the ascent!” shouted Iruki above the deafening roar. “If we go on any further the waterfall will take us!”
“All right! Go on, I’m following you!”
Iruki looked for the hidden support. It had to be roughly above her head, chiseled on the grey wall of rock and invisible to the eye, but she knew she was at the right place for she had already identified the secret mark, the hidden Masig symbol. After a few blind attempts fingering the rock she found it at last, and with an inner feeling of victory she began to climb the vertical wall, very slowly. The way was dangerous, so that she had to find support for her feet and hands by touch. She had climbed that wall with her father, so that although she could not see them she knew the finger- and foot-holds were there. They’re hidden and secret but they’re real. I’ll find them! Her body was complaining from the effort, but she kept on with an iron will.
She looked down and her eyes met those of the Assassin, who was looking at her worriedly. His face showed the tension and appeared whitish instead of its usual yellow shade. Iruki went on up the vertical wall until at last her hand reached the upper ledge. It was hidden from below, but she knew it was there. Exhausted, she sat with her feet dangling over the ledge and looked at the Assassin.
“I’ll guide you,” she said. “From up here I can see the holds in the rock! Follow my instructions and you’ll reach me safe and sound.” She had the feeling, though, that even without her help, he would be able to reach her.
The Assassin smiled and began to finger the rock in search of the first hold, just as she had done. Guided by Iruki, the mysterious stranger climbed up the wall in a moment with amazing sure-footedness.
They rested for some time sitting on the hidden rock path, gazing down at the endless precipice below their feet and at the gigantic cataract which roared like a thousand lions on their right. The view was spectacular: an immense torrent of water flowing with titanic strength and diving eternally into the void, the majesty of the infinite mountains, the sacred blue lake at their feet where the waterfall ended, it all left Iruki breathless. For her that was the most extraordinary scenery on earth and nothing could change her mind.
The rest renewed their spirits and strength. They had a bite from their supplies and drank from the water-skin the Assassin carried at his back. In restful silence, they stayed contemplating the beauty of the landscape.
For an instant their eyes crossed and linked. Neither said a word. A sweet tension filled the silence as her eyes tried to decipher the secrets hidden behind his. Both feared to break the link.
At last, Iruki asked: “Why did you save me that night at the Norghanian fortress?”
She lowered her eyes, but only for an instant. When she looked back up, she met his.
With an obvious effort, as if it were almost impossible for him to express any feelings, the Assassin began to explain.
“I did it because… I’m an empty man… without a soul… and for once in my despicable life I wanted to do something good to fill that void, even the slightest bit,” he said with naked honesty. He looked down, and for the first time allowed himself to show something of the shame he felt inwardly.
“I don’t understand…”
“I’m an Assassin. That’s what I am…All my life has been devoted to the art of killing… When I was just a boy, because of certain abilities I have and my partial affinity to the Gift,
I was selected to join an ancestral clan of Assassins.”
“But that’s not your fault…”
“Even so… all I’ve ever known has been discipline and death, from my earliest childhood till now. Discipline to let me master the art of killing and follow the designs of my Masters without any question. I’ve killed many times, and I continue killing. And with every killing my soul has turned emptier and emptier, a little at a time, until there’s nothing but complete emptiness, black as the darkest night…”
“You’re not an evil man. I can see it in your eyes. The eyes don’t lie. They show us what’s inside people, their spirit. If you were a man without a soul, you wouldn’t have taken pity on me that night. You wouldn’t have saved me.” She laid her hand gently on the Assassin’s leg.
“You don’t understand, Iruki Wind of the Steppes, I’m an Assassin, a robber of lives. I’m empty of feelings, I’m a despicable evil being.”
“It’s the Norghanian who rapes and kills out of sadistic pleasure, who’s evil, not you!”
“You should get away from me, Iruki. Go away and escape the vileness I give out so that it doesn’t sully you. You’re pure, born free in the beautiful steppes. You belong to a noble, proud people. I wouldn’t want you corrupted by me, by the evil that’s been instilled in me and the dark being I’ve become.”