Suddenly, he was sucked back to the temple. Crisondo was still spellbound. Savarb was watching him warily.
“The God of Light has come back! The God of Light has come back! The God of Light has come back!”
The old priest’s cry found an echo among the people around him, and even the air changed. Maybe the presence of the God of Light in the world was infusing hope everywhere. The echo grew until it became an enormous, confusing noise. Argbralius looked around in all directions and, infected by the general hysteria, he too began to shout with the rest.
“The God of Light has returned!
“The God of Light has returned!”
“The God of Light has returned!”
The roar grew unstoppable. The stained glass and the objects of crystal began to vibrate. The faithful left the temple in a mass. They were shouting those words as if nothing else mattered, knocking on doors and spreading the good news. The streets filled with people, and with that single shout, they converged at the Décamon. Hysteria and the lack of air amid the crowd began to take their toll. Some threw up, others tore at their hair, some struck out at those close to them, and others ran off like starving and rabid dogs.
The horde went toward the accursed pit, whose innards had stayed exposed for all who wished to see them and recalled the suffering of so many.
***
The general and his team were alarmed to hear a growing noise. They leaned out of the windows and saw the whole village flocking toward the cursed pit. Gáramond and Strangelus went up to the roof terrace to get a view of the scene. What they saw left them appalled. The villagers were kneeling around the pit and weeping for their dead. Their moans joined and rose in a single common lament. Some, desperate, fell into the abyss—or threw themselves into it—and the carrion birds took flight from the branches of the trees where they were waiting to feed on the newly dead.
A small group of men of faith arrived with the Book of Life. What they were about to see would leave its mark on them till the end of their days.
Father Crisondo stopped at the edge of the pit and began to pray. In his hands, there appeared a vortex of energy that began to spin and grow like the arms of a galaxy.
“May your souls be returned to the gods in the Deep Azure of the Heavens! May your substance, flesh, and bone return to the all-powerful cosmos! May the God of Light, who has returned to us after almost fifteen years of absence, be with you forever! Hail, peace and absolution in San San-Tera!”
Father Crisondo let out all the accumulated energy into the pit and startled the carrion birds. The energy sank into the abyss and gave out a blue light that blinded the crowd. All who were there spread their arms wide and joined in the funeral. Today, at last, the dead would find peace. The spell he cast was a weak one of spirit liberation, one of the simple spells used by the religion in the burial ceremony. The intention was to free those souls from the bonds of their body into the Deep Azure of the Heavens. The bodies were empty of spirits, as the souls of the dead had already been consumed by the spell the Grim Shepherd had used to bring back the master. This was something Crisondo knew already. He cast the spell nonetheless, as he knew that the villagers would benefit from seeing the ceremony of spirit liberation carried out.
A gentle calm enveloped everyone. The desperate weeping subsided like a faint drizzle. Someone began to throw dirt and rubble into the pit to cover it. Gradually, more hands joined in the effort, old and young, men and women, united in the act of honoring their loved ones with a dignified burial.
This alliance awoke others. The youngsters scattered through the streets to sweep them and organized themselves to find food and drinking water.
General Deathslayer, who had given up all hope for the village and thought that it would never come out of its misery, had to change his mind. Strangelus was astonished at the incredible redemption. Gáramond was reflecting on the people’s reaction and explained it not by anything divine but by the power of the will, the desire to unite for a common good.
Karolina’s eyes were on her husband. She knew the strategist well. She knew he was pleased and proud to see these people working so eagerly and hopefully. From now on, it would be much easier to get first-hand accounts of the misfortune.
***
Lulita and Luchy were riding Granola and Sureña respectively. The horses were glad to go out for a walk, even though they had to dodge rubble and refuse from the catastrophe. Many estates were still in ruins since few had felt encouraged to rebuild. There were exceptions like that of Gramal Gard, a young man from Omen who had come to reawaken memories of his late uncle Don Ingrio; or the example of Lombardo of the Zapotillo Estate who had refused to leave his lands despite the destruction.
When they came into the village, both Lulita and Luchy noticed something different. They did not see the desolation, death, or abandonment. Very soon, they saw several men and women working hard, sweating profusely with determination on their faces. They were cleaning the streets! What had happened?
“Be careful, ma’am,” said a man of about fifty who was covered in dust. He was pushing a wheelbarrow full of rubble and earth.
It had been years since Lulita had spoken to a village neighbor, but this time she felt she could have a proper conversation.
“Excuse me, but what are you doing? What’s happened?”
“Didn’t you know? You’ve missed the most precious event in the universe? Ma’am, the God of Light has returned and with him, hope. Father Crisondo has come out of the Décamon, and he’s given the dead a proper funeral. We need to clean up this pigsty. We were a prosperous village, and we can’t let it all got to rot.”
The man went on his way. The women went along with him on their mares.
“Things can’t go on like this,” he went on. “And you know very well that the king won’t move a finger to help us, ma’am. Here, either we help each other or nothing. Oh, and to answer your first question, we’re covering the pit to bury our dead.”
Lulita and Luchy were left speechless by this. They had to see it with their own eyes to believe it. At a gentle trot, they went closer to the pit and saw thousands of people working together like well-organized ants. Some were throwing earth, rocks, and sawdust into the hole, as well as metal and off-cuts of wood. Others were cutting the weeds and cleaning. Others were planning how to demolish the remains of various structures that were still standing. Others were putting themselves forward as artists to rebuild the statue of Alac Arc Ángelo.
With all this to-do, Luchy and Lulita decided this was the right moment to tell Leandro what they knew about San San-Tera. A bark at their feet startled them; Rufus had not wanted to stay back with Tomasa. Maybe he felt the women were going to visit his new friends, the general’s twins.
Chapter VIII – Divide and Conquer
Leandro and his team were on the second-floor balcony of the house they had built beside the pit. Lulita thought she would never have settled in such an ominous place herself, but neither the general nor those who were with him knew what had happened. Today, that would change. They were ready to carry out Manchego’s errand to bear warning of the danger that was threatening them, which might already be on its way. The talk they were about to have would change the entire course of the Empire.
It did not take long for Leandro to notice they were coming. He recognized them. Without a word, he turned to welcome them downstairs.
Just before they reached the door of the general’s house, Lulita and Luchy dismounted. A soldier took their reins and tied them to a post. Rufus followed the women to the entrance, wagging his tail happily. They did not even need to knock. Nana Bromelia appeared wearing an apron smeared with tomato sauce.
“Ah, my dear guests. We were expecting you. Come in, come in, please. Doggy? You came back! The boys will be glad to see your little face. Come in, come in.”
Luchy and Lulita looked at one another, puzzled by the woman’s enthusiasm. Rufus, on the other hand, walked trustfully into a house he alrea
dy knew and where he had more than once marked with his urine. Nana Bromelia led them to the main hall. Looking at the decorations, Lulita admired the sumptuousness and the well-kept woodwork. They lived in the extreme of luxury, just as the townspeople lived in the extreme of filth. These imperial northerners never stopped being showy. The old woman also noticed the many soldiers posted at strategic points. One of them caught her attention: a larger man with very broad shoulders. This must be the captain. He was tall and looked fierce, though obedient. From his belt hung a morningstar.
Karolina came downstairs. Before greeting the visitors, she whispered in Nana’s ear, and the other woman went upstairs at once. Rufus settled himself beside the two armchairs where Lulita and Luchy were waiting.
“Good afternoon. Hello Luchy, I’m glad to see you here. Hello ma’am, my name’s Karolina. I’m General Leandro’s wife.”
“How d’you do? My name is Lulita, and I’m Luchy’s grandmother. I’ve known Leandro for a long time. I fought under his orders on the battlefield just before I retired. He was a young commander back then.”
“Leandro will be pleased to see you, then. Luchy, have you brought your grandmother to talk about what we touched on yesterday?”
Luchy glanced at the old woman before she answered. “We’ve come to tell the general everything he needs to know so that he can understand the disaster that destroyed this village three years ago.”
Karolina nodded. “Thank you so much. Leandro will be down very soon. Meanwhile, can I offer you a snack?”
Karolina seemed like the typical pretty Northern girl: amiable, courteous, but unoriginal and not very intelligent. Lulita noticed the woman’s light golden skin. She must have ancestors from the Wild Lands. Lulita hoped she was wrong about her.
“A glass of water?” Karolina said.
“I’m fine, thanks,” said Luchy.
The general’s wife smiled, stood up, and went to the kitchen. Shortly afterward, the staircase's wooden steps echoed, announcing the arrival of several people just as she came out of the kitchen with a plate of assorted sandwiches.
“My dear,” she said to her husband, “Luchy’s come with her grandmother, Lulita.”
The general recognized Lulita the moment he saw her sitting beside her granddaughter. He remembered she could be a figure to inspire fear. It occurred to him that her character might have mellowed; after all, he had become more peaceful with the passing of the years and the coming of children.
“Hello Luchy, Lulita. It’s a pleasure to have you here. I assume you’ve come to talk about the pit and the tragedy. We saw how the people reacted today, and we couldn’t have been more surprised. We’re anxious to hear what you have to say.”
He turned to the philosopher and the mage to introduce them to the old woman. “This is Gáramond Sophis, my counselor. He’s a very inquisitive philosopher. And this is Strangelus Üdessa, the highest representative of the Conjuring Arts in the Empire.”
The mage made a gesture of acknowledgment, while the philosopher simply went on staring.
Karolina left the snacks on the table, handed the grandmother a fancy wooden cup filled with filtered river water, and withdrew. From upstairs, they could hear the noise the twins and Nana were making.
Lulita took a sip. The water tasted of minerals, that typical taste ceramic vases give water after purifying it. To purify water, one would let the liquid sit on a filtering ceramic vase and let the water filter through the porous material. It was a slow process, but it was guaranteed to take away the stuff that made people have the runs or even suffer a slow, painful death after days of bloody stool.
The men sat down in front of the women with the table between them. Leandro had Gáramond on his right and Strangelus on his left. The meeting now became serious. The philosopher broke the silence by reaching for a couple of sandwiches and stuffing them into his mouth all at once. Some crumbs were left in his beard.
The mage half-closed his eyes, ashamed of his friend’s behavior.
“Hello, Leandro,” Lulita began. “I see you’ve changed. You were a young and ambitious pup when you took the role of commander. Children and a wife have tamed you. It’s good for a man to have a woman who knows how to handle him. Not so good for the Imperial Army to have a soft man leading them,” she said with a stern voice.
Leandro shifted in his seat.
Luchy did not understand why Lulita sounded so keen on insulting or wounding. Could it be some special code between a general and an ex-soldier? Luchy noticed the guards at the door as they stiffened. Insulting a high-ranking soldier was like insulting the king himself. Lulita was out of line, and most people would have met their deaths with even less.
Leandro waved a hand in the air. The guards relaxed a little. “I’ve missed you, Lulita. There hasn’t been another soldier like you in my ranks, and someone’s always needed to give an example of courage. I’m glad to see you again. I didn’t know we lived in the same village. You’ve aged very well. But then again, all Wild Men and Women age very well. Is it already twenty years since you left the ranks?”
“It must be around that long. How is it that you’ve been here three years, scratching your backside? We, the people of this village, haven’t had time for pleasantries. We were devastated by a demon, and after that, we had three years of desolation. The king has done nothing for us.”
“He’s sent us—”
“To do what exactly? Be a farmer? Be a father? That’s ludicrous!”
“We’ve tried!”
“You don’t just try when a demon devastates a village!” yelled Lulita. “You do something about it! You should know better! You’ve fought demons many times!”
“You will respect me, Lulita!” yelled the general with controlled rage.
Lulita’s eyes widened, then she relaxed. She realized she was treading on eggshells. “I’m sorry. We—we’ve been through so much,” she said, suddenly grim.
“I know. And that’s why we’re here. And now please continue explaining what happened here three years ago.”
“Did you say a demon?” the philosopher said. He was intrigued by the strange relationship between the general and the old Wild-born.
“What do you mean, devastated us?” asked the mage.
“The pit you see there,” said Lulita. “The earth shivered, and a great fault swallowed the town hall whole. From the gaping pit came forth the most horrendous green light you’ve ever seen. But the worst of all was to see the village in chaos with so many corpses piled up in heaps, and then to see those corpses come back to life.”
The mage gulped hard. “You mean the dead were animated?”
“Yes! And they marched without care and tossed themselves into that pit! And then a strange cloud above the pit swirled over it and sucked the souls out of the dead! A loud clang was followed by a demon being resurrected out of a black coffin! I have a source that told me the Master was resurrected. Legionaer is back from ruin!”
“Blasphemy!” said the mage. “You uttered the name. How dare you, woman!”
“Just listen, old man, without judging!” barked the philosopher. “It’s too wild and unreal, too farfetched a story for an earthbound mind to have made up. There is ample evidence to support the Wild Woman’s claim. No village can dig a pit like that; they don’t have enough forces at their disposal to do it. The land feels cursed, and people are certainly damned. Then you have to add those strange happenings on the border with Ágamgor to the mix, and you have the perfect storm. Why this village? Why here?”
“My source tells me there are dark and evil tunnels that cross beneath these lands,” said Lulita. “There could be a confluence of them that make it the right place to perform the ritual that brought the Master of Némaldon back to life.”
“Who is this source of yours?” the mage asked. “Sounds very knowledgeable, I must say.”
“I can’t tell you that. Not now. But you must take heed of the warning. Evil has spread. We are the survivors of the Massac
re of San San-Tera.”
A chill ran through everyone in the room.
“That spell was cast by a Grim Shepherd who’d infiltrated San San-Tera,” added Luchy. “Feliel Demanur.”
“Child, stop spinning fairy tales! We’re talking seriously. We’re not going to put up with your lack of respect or taking us for imbeciles.”
“What Luchy’s saying is true,” her grandmother said. “I saw it with my own eyes, and that’s exactly what happened.”
And she began to tell the story from the beginning, how Feliel had become the mayor and how things had changed from there. By two years into his term, the increase in poverty and crime was obvious. In his last year, he had set out to exterminate all the inhabitants, whose corpses had then been piled up by his soldiers. Finally, the war had broken out.
She told them even more. She gave a detailed account of the shadow which had invaded her home and the village, how it hunted its prey. She omitted the shadow had been seeking Manchego, the God of Light.
The old woman went on to talk about the days of the siege, the barricades the resistance had put up, and the fierce fighting of the survivors. She described that giant cloud, spiraling and black, under which the dead had risen and walked again like puppets. How they then plunged into the abyss they now called the Cursed Pit, where a green vortex awaited them. Finally, she told them of the resurrection of the Master.
Lulita and Luchy were weeping by now, letting their feelings flow free.
The general listened, his soul frozen. He knew what the woman was talking about. It meant the presence of a sáffurtan, necromancers, Black Arts, and perhaps of something even worse—a Grim Shepherd. A feeling of mourning and hopelessness assailed his heart. All that misfortune had been the work of Némaldon, and if he was sure of anything, it was that the inhabitants of that evil place would not stop there.
Archangel’s Ascension Page 7