Archangel’s Ascension

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  “That’s right. The black seed has blossomed, and it’s wonderful.”

  “We are the God of Chaos, my dear Argbralius. Now you must come back to me. Find me, and in that way, we’ll be one in a single body and a single mind.”

  “But how do I do that?”

  “You’ve already found the first object that will lead you to me. You must find the others. Watch.”

  Before them, there appeared a grey vortex that seemed to occupy everything. On it was projected an image: that of the God of Chaos hiding the Sword of Zarathás in the Devil’s Mouth that was found by the Roam family thousands of years later. The image showed him that the god had hidden the rest of his armor in other planets in different galaxies. If the Roam family suffered from that madness, it was because they were unable to control the sword's powers.

  “Why did you hide your armor?”

  The vortex closed. Mórgomiel’s face scrutinized the spectator.

  “Because we were defeated during the Times of Chaos. The new Gods joined together and almost destroyed us. We had to flee. I swore to take revenge when I was ready. You are you, I am me, we are the same. You have already found my sword, Wrath the Godslayer, the only one which can defeat the Gods. You will only discover its fullest potential when you have brought all the pieces of our armor together. The sword, Wrath the Godslayer, is but the first of your accomplishments. You have done well. I am proud of you, of us.”

  “And we’ll unleash Chaos again.”

  “In your world is another of my objects. Find it before you reach Kanumorsus, where you will find the path to the other worlds.”

  “Kanumorsus?”

  “You’ll know what it is when you find that second object. Search for it; it’s not far from you.”

  “Where?” the spectator asked with a trace of anxiety.

  “Legionaer will give you clues. He’s one of our many servants.”

  “So be it.”

  Argbralius opened his eyes. He was back on the battlefield, with the Sword of Zarathás in his hand. But it was not the Sword of Zarathás but Wrath the Godslayer, the weapon Mórgomiel had wielded in the Times of Chaos. Now he knew why it had drawn him from the first moment. The sword belonged to him and was now his again.

  Around Argbralius, chaos had been unleashed. Heads, arms, and legs flew, blood rained everywhere. Death ruled all.

  Argbralius spread his arms and received the negative energy, fed on it with gusto. Desiring only to destroy, he howled at the heavens. The battle stopped. A bolt of lightning crossed the sky, and for less than a second, it lit up the field.

  Elkam was watching him. He had never seen a human being giving out such energy, just as he had no idea that he was about to order his army to attack its creator, the God of Chaos.

  “Go for the priest!”

  Argbralius’s eyes shone. He waited to be surrounded by his creatures.

  ZAP!

  With a blow, he finished off a hundred orcs, cutting them in half. With each stroke, he leaped a hundred strides.

  ZAP!

  He took one step, which left a wake of shadows, and with another swing, fifty soldiers of Kathanas fell headless.

  ZAP!

  He killed five sáffurtans wrapped in the shadowy wake. He vanished. Over the field floated a vapor, the breath of his body. An uncomfortable silence settled. Nobody knew how to react. The wind strengthened.

  I must flee! thought Argbralius as he saw a figure descend upon them, enfolded in blue energy. He was sure it was the old mage, ready to give it all he had. I’m not ready to consume them all.

  A bolt of blue lightning fell on Elkam and exploded with a deafening noise. It was old Strangelus. The Grim Shepherd could not believe it. The battle they had won had turned against them, and now he had to confront this old man, whose eyes shone with the blue of incalculable power.

  “Your time has come,” Strangelus said as he approached Elkam and met him face-to-face. The old man spewed raw energy as his life source consumed itself.

  The mage released the spell. A light, pristine and white, blinded every living creature around the mage for leagues around. The brilliance grew, the temperature rose. The explosion swallowed up the city of Kathanas, shook the earth, and stones flew through the air. A dense cloud of dust rose, and at the same time, the blast reverberated along the walls of the rock towers.

  ***

  Elgahar and the others who were fleeing north looked back, startled by the sound and the brilliant light. Balthazar, who was carrying the general on his shoulder, understood what had happened. Gáramond, who was walking leaning on a stick and an old man from Kathanas, seemed to have aged considerably. The others doubted whether he would make it to the North.

  The explosion was like a blow from a fist. They found themselves staring at a mushroom-shaped cloud of dust, rising toward the black blanket that covered the sky and was beginning to flake away. The dawning sun showed a glimpse of itself behind those black shreds. A copper light bathed the shriveled field, twilit for a week and two days before.

  Balthazar took on the leadership of those few survivors who were fleeing north. “Let’s go,” he said as he set off again. “Are you all right, Lulita?”

  The lady had a bandage around her head and was panting. She was also limping. At least she could take comfort in the idea that Luchy had missed the war. The shaman offered her his arm, and she held on to him to go on.

  “A deer,” Kelei whispered.

  He readied his bow and nocked an arrow. The Wild Man restrained him with a hand on his shoulder.

  “Not today, soldier. That’s enough death for now. We must thank Mother for granting us another day of life. Let the deer go on its way.”

  Kelei and the other soldiers of Kathanas looked at each other in puzzlement but did not argue.

  “We’ll never get there in time,” Lulita said.

  “That’s true,” said Balthazar. “We’ll have to find some way of going faster. With horses, perhaps?”

  “We soldiers of Kathanas aren’t cavalrymen,” Kelei said. “We won’t ride any horse; it’s part of our culture, even though it might be our ruin now.”

  Lombardo was passing his fingers along the blade of his long sword, damaged after the fight with a wyvern. “Then it might be better if we separate,” he said.

  Gramal nodded, wincing with pain. He had a hand on his side where a spear had penetrated the skin. It had not affected any organs, but he needed to heal the wound and avoid infection.

  Kelei and his comrades debated for several minutes. Finally, he said, “The men of Kathanas will stay here. Our destiny will be to rebuild our past and save the wounded. We can’t go to the North and abandon our roots, what we truly are.”

  A young man interrupted him. “I’ll go north with them, Kelei. I’ll fight to the end, even when the Empire falls.”

  “If the Empire falls,” Kelei argued defiantly, offended that one of his people wanted to go with the foreigners. “Kathanas will be its own nation. We never depended on the government anyway.”

  “Let the boy join the fight if he wants to,” Balthazar put in. “We won’t waste time arguing. Legionaer is marching on Háztatlon, and he’ll already be beating the war drums. Here and now is where we say goodbye.”

  “Good luck,” Lulita said to Kelei.

  “Good luck to you too,” he replied, without smiling.

  ***

  After several hours of walking, Balthazar, Elgahar, a fainting Leandro, Lulita, Gramal, Lombardo, and the boy from Kathanas found a herd of wild horses. Mowriz was nowhere to be seen, so they assumed the boy must have fallen in battle.

  “Get down,” Balthazar ordered.

  They crouched down in the field among the wild grass.

  “Wait here,” he said with a smile that was hard to interpret. “I’ll come back with horses.”

  He dove into the bushes with great agility, even though he had just come from an intense fight. The boy from Kathanas was awestruck.

  “Tha
t man is full of surprises,” Lulita said to him. “He’ll bring the horses, that’s for sure. What’s your name, lad?”

  “Baldi, son of Twara of the northern rock tower. My parents died in the battle, and I feel the only thing I can do to honor them is to go on fighting.”

  “Does anyone know what happened to the duke?” Lombardo asked.

  “Dead,” Gramal replied evenly.

  He rubbed his head. His hair had grown. He had almost given up his golden mane and even wondered if it would ever grow again after it had been burnt when the bandits had kidnapped them. Though, for it to grow long again, he would still have to wait a few years.

  “And what about the sacristan?” Elgahar asked. He was still overwhelmed by the death of his master.

  “He must be dead,” Gramal said. “He was with the duke. He must have dragged him after him in his fit of madness.”

  “In Kathanas, they say the duke was mad because of the Sword of Zarathás,” Baldi explained. “That the weapon was possessed by demons.”

  The others looked at him, eager to hear more.

  “According to rumor,” Baldi went on, “the sword was found in the Devil’s Mouth, in the lands of Devnóngaron.”

  “I find it hard to believe that a sword could be bewitched,” Lombardo said. “But what do I know? We were living quietly until revenge that had been in the making for years fell on us, so now I’ll believe anything.”

  “Here he comes,” Lulita said to Baldi. “What did I tell you?”

  The soldier of Kathanas smiled to see Balthazar riding a wild horse, black as coal. With a rope made of roots, he led three other stallions and two mares, all muscular and impressive. Their manes gleamed in the sun.

  “Are you wild too?” the boy wanted to know. “Is that why you know Balthazar?”

  Lulita laughed. “My mother was an Alpha Female, and my father a non-dominant Beta Male. But I was born in the Empire. My blood is wild, like my golden skin. I met Balthazar through the chance of life. My husband Eromes brought him to the estate of The Holy Comment Ranch.”

  “The Holy Comment Ranch?”

  “Yes. The land was fertile and the grass as green as my granddaughter’s eyes. The animals grew fat, and my grandson ran through the fields to see each dawn from the observatory and the Great Pine. Little Ounces, Rufus…”

  Lulita shed a tear remembering those days, remembering Manchego, her precious grandson. She wished he could have been with her at that moment to be able to hug him, no matter how much he might have changed, even with those wings of his.

  “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you pain, ma’am.”

  “It’s not your fault, Baldi. When you get to my age, all you have is memories, and sometimes you relive them as if they were happening now. You understand?”

  Baldi shook his head. He was a pleasantly-mannered boy with a round, finely cut face and friendly eyes. He would grow tall, slim, and agile, like most of the men of Kathanas.

  The survivors went up to Balthazar and the animals, which seemed tamed by some spell rather than by force.

  “Now we have horses,” said the Wild Man with satisfaction.

  There was nothing better than being in touch with Mother and asking Her permission to use Her fruits, the horses that would take them to the North.

  “Gáramond, on you go. Leandro, you and Lulita will ride this mare. You and you, this one. Gramal, Leandro, you stay with me. We’ll help the ones in need.”

  “We’ll never make it to Háztatlon in time,” said Gramal. He was feeling angry at not having a horse. He wanted to get to Omen and report to Hakama.

  “I’ll get us more horses. Let’s help the wounded, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Leandro and Gramal nodded and followed the Wild Man.

  The Wild Man picked other wounded and raised them on to the horse’s back. He said something in wild-speak and led them away. The horses would gallop until they reached Háztatlon. Balthazar marched with the remaining survivors, lending a hand to those in need and healing others with lesser wounds. As for the dying, he eased their suffering with a paste made from the flower Brugmansia.

  Part IV - Alac Arc Ángelo

  Chapter XXVIII – Degoflóreflor

  He appeared in Degoflórefor, its two moons very close to one another. The evening was deepening. Alac also noticed two suns, one beginning to rise and another hidden behind the horizon. Did this mean there were two sunrises and two sunsets here? The differences from the planet where he had grown up were so many that he was amazed at the thought of the infinity of worlds to be explored, each with its own peculiarities.

  This planet hasn’t changed much since we last visited it.

  We must hurry. Meridian is about to suffer a great war.

  With a start, Alac launched himself into flight. The flora and fauna of this world were very similar to those of Meridian. Two sky-blue birds joined his flight through the air. They were not looking to feed off the angel, although they looked ferocious with their wings spanning wider than Alac’s and heads as thick as those of bulls.

  The image of the princess of this world came to his mind. He was sure he loved Luchy, he would always love her, but a part of him wished to see Meromérila’s purple eyes again, her silk-clad body, her harmonious womanly curves. He told himself off for this near-betrayal, he owed Luchy his whole heart. But desire—he shook his head hard as if to drive these thoughts away.

  He remembered the river and the rock where he had found Meromérila singing when they had first met. Alac was a spirit, and she had not seen his face. How would she react when she saw him? Would she find him attractive?

  He landed on the same rock. There was no one there and he heard nothing.

  Fly! Teitú shouted at him.

  Alac flew off and at once his body was covered with his divine armor, together with spear and shield.

  Five strange beings appeared out of thin air. They were Dakatak, the insectoids he had seen with Meromérila and which protected her. Their appearance and structure seemed perfect for battle. They had six powerful legs, two powerful jaws, and six eyes. They carried long spears in two of their six arms; they stood on their hind legs and used the middle ones for delicate movements. The legs had filaments that Alac guessed were useful when hunting prey or enemies. The two antennae on their heads were radars for perceiving the world.

  Alac attacked. He struck one of the insectoids in the chest, and it burst. Without pausing, he struck another insectoid on the head. One of the creatures fled. Alac aimed, then threw the spear with all his might. As soon as it brought the prey down, the weapon, which was made of pure energy, vanished. The demigod glanced at his hand and created another spear.

  One last Dakatak was left. It dropped its spears, prostrated itself, and bent its head. Alac spun around and raised his shield. He stopped an arrow that would have pierced his wings.

  A man with red eyes and white hair was at the edge of the river with a bow and quiver full of arrows. His face showed the fear he felt at finding himself before Alac.

  From now on, Teitú told him, you’ll understand whatever the beings of this world say to you. I offer you this skill, and I’ll take part so that they can understand you. Then you’ll be able to communicate without any trouble.

  “Don’t kill me,” the man said. He was on his knees, with his head bent. “I’m just a foreigner searching for food. Please don’t kill me, I beg you. Here are my weapons; I’m not going to use them against you. My life is yours if you spare me. Those Dakatak were mine; I needed them to hunt and eat. Without them, I won’t survive. Oh, my powerful lord! It would be an honor and my salvation if you permitted me to go with you.”

  “You thought I was food?” asked the demigod.

  “Well, I thought you were one of those large birds. I was mistaken! I’m sorry!”

  “Are you Milikin?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I’m looking for Princess Meromérila.”

  “Ah, the Princess�
�� I don’t know how to tell you the news, my powerful lord.”

  “Speak.”

  “Meromérila’s father is dead, and Fuifay has taken over. He’s a very cruel individual. He has imprisoned Meromérila and fathered six children on her, and he’ll keep her imprisoned for eternity, giving birth. The four realms are suffering.”

  Alac’s heart was troubled. He had come to speak to Meromérila to find out more about the evil that threatened the Meridian, but now it was she who needed his help and needed to be rescued. But as a god, he could not interfere in the worlds. He could not turn into a judge, unbalancing the natural forces. What should he do? How could he solve this conflict?

  “Take me to her, and I’ll spare your life,” he said, still hesitating.

  “Your will is mine, my lord. Would you spare Okrkra?”

  Alac eyed the insectoid, which was still prostrated.

  “So be it,” he said. He was at ease, as Teitú was calmly flying around him.

  Okrkra straightened up, flexed, gave a leap like a grasshopper, and landed beside his master. The insectoid said something in his ear.

  “My good servant says that from now on, he’ll devote himself to protecting you wherever you go. He and I are your servants for eternity, or at least as long as we’re alive.”

  “Thank you,” Alac replied in puzzlement. He felt honored, but he did not know whether he wanted to have servants. At any rate, these two would be useful for future trips to this world. “Take me to Fuifay.”

  He relinquished his armor and was left in the simple farmer’s clothes he had been wearing when he fell into the Cursed Well. It had not occurred to him to change, nor had it even occurred to him that he might make a poor impression. Luchy had not shown any rejection, but perhaps she had been too excited. He would have to get some other clothes, although for now, he would rather go on as he was, as he felt that in this way he kept in touch with the boy he had been.

  “Follow me, my lord. My name is Orolelolí, but you can call me Oro.”