Enigma: Awakening

by Damien Taylor

  Irvina grimaced. “There're only two ways,” she answered. “We can head back up to the castle where we can fight our way through the king’s men until we escape. Or we can find our way down to the canal that runs beneath the dungeon.”

  Sergio scratched his head and looked at all the guards lying on the ground groaning. There were at least twelve. “Well, that explains why no guards are patrolling these halls. Wait, you mean there’s water running beneath the dungeon? How’d you figure that out?”

  “It only makes sense,” I said. “The Tucson River North flows from Southwood, past Lucreris, into the Valtec Mountains out to the Aglaecein Sea. The canal must deposit in the Tucson.”

  “There was a crack in the floor of my cell. I could see a small marina where the king houses escape boats. They’re guarded,” she explained.

  “Of course, they are,” said Sergio.

  “How did you escape?” I asked.

  “The lock on my cell was flawed, enough for a nail to undo it. I searched the dungeon and retrieved my chakram before the king and his guards spotted me. Darwin, they took Nova in chains.”

  I stopped and looked with severity. “Where?”

  She sighed. “To a city called Ortiz.”

  “Ortiz?”

  “The king said she was a danger to everyone. He called her a weapon beyond the control of any mere mortal.”

  I should’ve known he was going to have her transported there. He called her a witch-child. “Arkhades. The kingdom’s ruthless. It’s a theater of execution.”

  Irvina led us to a door. Behind it was a cell with a hatch in the center of the floor. An enormous crevasse lied beneath the hatch with a ladder reaching down to a canal setting off beyond the city. There was a sizeable ship, and three gondolas sitting at the edge of the dock.

  We descended and crossed tri-leveled platforms and came to the hovering vessels. Two sleeping guards were before them, ones quickly incapacitated and tossed into the water. Untying a gondola and fleeing the castle was far too easy. The crevasse blurred as we poured into the waterway and its currents propelled us. Undetected, we drifted between the cover of the Valtec Valleys quickly conjoining the Tucson and onward toward the deep of the Aglaecein Sea.

  The ruddy glower of sunset accompanied a dip in temperature.

  “What made them build the waterway beneath the castle?” Irvina wondered.

  I stared at the sun’s crimson reflection. “Invasion.”

  “Yeah, and the escape hatch was unlocked. That spineless coward-of-a-king. He's preparing to leave his people for dead while he escapes with his life. He’s got another thing coming,” said Sergio with a hint of satisfaction.

  I looked up and found Irvina’s eyes. “Darwin, what happened to you—in Velmica?”

  “I was surrounded by the liches,” I began. “Then the ground split open, and we fell below the ruins into the old catacombs. I heard voices and saw a vision of Airius and Reva, the Arkangels. They spoke of Vail’s destruction. I didn’t understand it—I still don’t. Then there was another vision... of a demon, fire, and war, and...” I sighed at an overwhelming feeling, everything coming to my mind so fast, “then I found the shrine and a man named Guardian appeared from thin air—told me this stone, the Amethyst, had chosen me. He said that the orb had been sleeping for many years. What happened to you?” I asked her.

  “I rode as long as I could before resting,” she answered. “It was a long journey back.”

  “What about Rafael?”

  Irvina looked down. “I set him free when I saw your city in flames.”

  I escaped her gaze, looking into the water. It’s probably a good thing. I hope he’s safe. He was a good horse.

  “The orb chooses its master. That’s what the Emerald told me too,” said Sergio, reverting the subject to the previous one. “Maybe it chose us before we were born,” he spoke in theory.

  I told them of the old pages I’d found, draining out every detail about each separate one. Only the first had made any sense. It had given more information than the others. But, like the others, its authenticity was in question. Irvina and Sergio had nothing to say about any of the content and neither had I. But they weren’t without questions.

  “Do you suppose they could have been translations of Doctrine?” Sergio questioned.

  Irvina shook her head. “They can’t be. Doctrine was only ever written in the runes of the Angels. Any translation that exists and is claimed to be of any other tongue is false—and certainly not of the tongue of Men.”

  Sergio scratched his temple. “I don’t know. I grew up learning a blend of both the Superion and Ambic teachings, and have come to only one conclusion: nothing is certain.”

  Irvina hissed. “But Darwin said he saw a vision of a war between Arkangels and the Abyssians, and there was no such war in the past. There’s nothing written in Doctrine about Abyssians. What do you think, Darwin?”

  The question caught me off guard. “I don’t know.”

  Sergio rowed faster. “It’s getting cold,” he said, shivering.

  Irvina ran a hand in the river. “Surely you must have some thought about all of this.” She was talking to me. But I was quiet, lost in my thoughts. The conversation continued between Irvina and Sergio.

  “Well, I look at it like this, the Angels existed so long ago that the meaning of all of their runes could have easily gotten lost in translation at any time, so who’s to say what’s been written is all truth. What is true, has either physical evidence or makes logical sense,” said Sergio.

  Irvina’s face scrunched irritably. “Then you do not truly believe in anything. Where do you think you came from?”

  “There isn’t a way of truly knowing the answer—the Ambics have their interpretation, and the Superions have theirs. All that hubbub about the creation of Vail and the Ruling and Lesser Races dates too far back to be a sure thing to believe in, though there is a part of Doctrine that aligns with reality. You don’t have to believe in all that other mess to agree. There’s evidence all around us that prove certain historical translations correct or at least make sense of them. Just look at what we’ve been gifted.” Sergio was a halfling that trusted eyes more than the words of an ancient stranger. “The Angels wielded these powers, right? And the pages in Darwin’s shrine suggested that there were Orbed Ones before us, correct? Well... that truth is as undeniable as the orbs lay here in plain sight.”

  I was quiet but hadn’t gone deaf to their dialogue. I understood why Sergio believed the way he did. It was rational. I just didn’t know if I could believe as he did even still, or if it had even mattered. The past was the past. It was the elusive reason that the Superiors had allowed for our present times that I questioned. I hated not knowing why. What did we do that’s so deserving of the Abyssian’s onslaught?

  The conversation steered from the pages themselves to their belief systems. The two talked for an hour. I didn’t bother mentioning the conflicting timeline of Men existing in the same age as the Angels, as the first page read, for fear of having to listen to the dreaded topic any longer. I kept that bit to myself. It was just another thing that brought reasonable suspicion about the Superiors' sovereignty and the validity of Doctrine. Once again, things hadn’t added up. There was one question that came to mind that was difficult to set aside, who was the man Guardian that had appeared to me?

  The question fled when the Tucson quickened in pace, abruptly. After three days of the hastened ride, we deposited into the vast ocean, the Aglaecein. The mountain’s rock walls loomed around us in a ring. The Aglaecein wasn’t as gentle as the waterway. Its restless current knocked us around for a day until it brought us to a crashing halt along the rocky shore in the mountain bend. If Sergio had warned us to brace ourselves, I didn’t hear it. The stretching hills pinned us with nowhere else to go but into a cave called the Dugan Cavern—once a dreamland of myth for gold miners—King Dimicus’s obvious escape route. So, the place is real.

  Allegedly, his ancestors disco
vered a cave and relieved it of its golden riches. With their monstrous fortune, they purchased the kingship of Lucreris, supplanting the resident dynasty in all its entirety. Many men had gone searching for the cave, ones even from the far reaches of the eastern continent, Ethriel. Few ever found it, but there were no talks of riches. One could easily overlook its position. The rocks before it jutted awkwardly for docking, and a subtle twisting path hid the entrance in a sprawling formation of rock. The black archway was too small for any of us to pass without stooping.

  Faint screeches resounded in the cave. The heavy stench of an animal permeated the air. The capacity of the cave was great enough for a brawl with Abyssians, but the wall ahead was a dead end. I heard the screeching further and louder as we moved toward it. Surely if I had heard them, Irvina had heard long before. “Where’s it coming from?” Sergio questioned, looking in all directions.

  “Do not be alarmed. It is only cave spiders,” said Irvina.

  The patter of scurrying feet past Sergio, liberating a deluge of profanities from the halflings mouth. “Did you see that thing? That critter was large as a ferret.”

  Irvina froze and fastened her sight to the walls. Her brow lifted, creating a furrow in her forehead as she whipped her chakram from behind her.

  “What?” Sergio barked. “Is there one on me?” His eyes swiveled to either side of him, bulging frantically.

  “Quiet,” Irvina whispered. There was a pause.

  “Not hearing cave spiders, I take it?” I questioned.

  The naiad went forward with caution, her chakram at the ready. “Laughter. This isn’t an ordinary cave,” she said, eyes falling on something at the dead end. Against the wall, there was a statue of a giant troll with its hand wrapped around the blade of a broadsword. The hilt protruded as if the creature was handing it to someone.

  Sergio smacked the flat wall beyond it. “Looks like this is the end, baby—no going beyond this point. Gotta’ find another way.”

  Squealing came from a pile of boulders on the right side of the wall. I heard it this time too—laughter. In reflex, my orbed hand flew toward it, and the Amethyst’s twinkling glow flattened the pile with an implosion. Cave spiders scattered. Rolling from the collapsed structure were two creatures, hideous stone-gray children rolling over the ground in alarm. Irvina trapped them within her gaze and seized them.

  “Please, please don’t kill us! We only want to play.” They trembled and begged for mercy, standing no taller than one of our thighs.

  “Troll children,” said Irvina, stowing away her weapons.

  The two looked like twins, their facial features broad and exaggerated. They had hooked noses, and pebbles protruded from them like growths on the skin. The slender-framed males wore loin rags held by belts of skulls, nothing clothing their young chests. Dark locks hung in great length.

  That explains the smell. I exercised my orbed hand. I didn't mean to knock down the boulders on purpose, but the impulsive act had served us well. Stop doing things on your own, I said to the Amethyst. It didn’t respond.

  Sergio knocked a fist against my shoulder. “Hard to control, eh?”

  I grunted and kneeled before the panicking creatures. “What are your names?”

  “I am Rubyk, and this is my brother, Vakuu.”

  “We come in peace,” I reassured.

  The two looked at each other. “How did you discover this cave?” Rubyk questioned. This one was older because of the size of the tusks sprouting from his large bottom lip.

  “We washed up on the rocks outside with no place else to go and found the entrance. What about you? The only way to get here is by accident or by searching for it and, last, I checked, trolls aren’t too fond of water.”

  “This is our cave,” said Vakuu.

  “Only the two of you younglings? Where’s the rest of your tribe?”

  “They’re—”

  “Vakuu, no!” Rubyk cut him off sharply. “He’s a man. We cannot trust him.”

  Sergio grimaced and crossed his arms. “Didn’t you hear him, little troll? He said we come in peace. We just want a way beyond this cave, to get back inland. We thought there might be a path through to another side.”

  “There is. But you must go beyond the village,” said the younger one.

  “Vakuu!” his brother belted.

  “What? Maybe Uncle will help them.” Vakuu scrambled toward the statue and leaped to grasp its sword handle. Like a lever, it lowered, and the sound of something enormous and coarse grumbled as it moved. The flat wall shook and rose from the ground, and beyond it was a sight that unfastened our jaws.

  Rubyk ran inside. “They’re not gonna’ be pleased with this.”

  “I’ll get Uncle,” said Vakuu. And he darted off.

  A throng of thirty trolls froze, their pockmarked faces and creased eyes trained fiercely on us. We stood still. “This isn’t good,” said Sergio. I looked at Irvina who had already drawn her chakram. Alarmed groans came from the massive creatures, and ones with spiked clubs in their hands turned toward us. “This definitely isn't good.”

  “Sergio,” I called with a stretched pronunciation that coerced him to shut his mouth. I took a step back.

  “No use in retreating,” said Irvina calmly. “There’s nowhere to go. They’ll trail us back to the river and kill us.” She was right. Horn bursts sounded off in the distance. Alarm.

  “No threatening movements,” I muttered. “Trolls take combat to heart. They carry grudges beyond the grave. One wrong move could undoubtedly start a war.”

  “I don’t think we hold that card in our hands, Winn.”

  “Sergio’s right,” said Irvina.

  Out of the throng, a troll with long blood-red locks swathed in leather armor sprinted for Irvina. A club rained down on her head. She swung both chakram in defense. The weapons bashed and locked, and they exchanged a round of blows until a profound voice ordered them to desist.

  “Enough!” A formation marched with heavy beating in unison. In the center was a lean elder troll in a dark robe with a hanging ice-gray beard and locks. Rings and studs pierced the long outer edges of his ears, and a silver hoop swooped into his nostrils. “Stay your club, Voreg.”

  The blood-haired troll growled as he snatched away. He never took his scrunching gaze from Irvina.

  The gray-headed one stepped out from the troll soldiers, his long, intricate wooden staff swinging. A cave spider crawled onto his shoulder. A large rune of glowing lime marked the furry, thick-bodied critter on its bulbous back.

  Sergio cringed. “Gross.”

  “My name is Elder Shenkii. I am the sovereign tribe leader. I have three questions that I need answered. Your answers will decide your fate. First, how did you discover our village?”

  I cleared my throat. “By accident. Our boat crashed on the rocks outside, and when we came into the cave, we ran into your two young trolls who opened the door.”

  There was a pause of contemplation for the Elder Troll. He turned a brief gaze upon the troll youngling. Then he asked his second question. “Is there anyone searching for you?”

  “The ones who took us prisoner will have forgotten us by now.”

  Another pause. “My last question: What are your intentions?”

  “We came only to find a way back to the mainland—to exit on the other side.” The answer seemed to rouse chatter.

  When Shenkii raised his hand, it quieted. “Bring me a tracker.” From behind him came a small, hunching troll with a nose larger than all the rest. Two slits scored its elongated bridge. Shenkii whispered something in his ear, and then it walked toward me. “The tracker will detect any deceit in you. But you must be still. He will not touch you, will instead measure your virtue by the scent you may or may not exude.”

  “The name’s Xerrax,” said the troll in a nasally timbre. “May I?” When I didn’t receive any warning from the Amethyst, I nodded.

  Xerrax the troll inhaled deeply. His nostrils flared, as did the slits above them
. He sunk into a breath. “This one... reeks of worry; undoubtedly a leader. He is anxious and in search of something. There is... great despair and loss in him. He is a man of little, or no faith—yet he is truthful and honorable.” Xerrax turned to Shenkii. “There is no lie in him.”

  Shenkii’s mouth curled into a grin.

  “What about the others?” said an angry, profound voice. It was the one called Voreg. The troll never took his glare from Irvina. “This one’s a naiad, not hard to misplace that stench.”

  Sergio’s head swiveled in a snap. “A naiad?” His eyes found me with severity. “And you didn’t tell me? No wonder she’s so exquisite.”

  Xerrax breathed in and out again. “And that one’s half-satyr. Don’t ask me anything else about him, though. His odor is far too repulsing to endure again.”

  Sergio grumbled. “So is yours, mop-head, so is yours.” Voreg hissed at him.

  The child Vakuu revealed himself from behind Shenkii’s calf, clinging onto his robe. “Stand down, trolls. Return to your business,” the Elder ordered. Voreg stayed in position. “Away from the naiad, Voreg.” The troll’s newly found vendetta couldn’t override Shenkii’s command. With a dry snort, he went on.

  As he passed the Elder, he spoke. “What do you plan to do with them?”

  “I don’t know. But at the moment, they will come with me.”

  “They’re with that human, and they cannot be trusted. I say throw them in the dungeon or feed them to the worgs. A long history of blood and battle we’ve had with Men, Shenkii. You’d do well to remember the sacrifice of our ancestors.”

  Shenkii stood tall, his upward tilting head placing him a foot above the grumpy warrior. “It’s a good thing these matters are for me to decide, and not you. You would do well not to forget your place, Basher.” Voreg left. His last look was at Irvina.

  Sergio sneered. “Obsession can be deadly.”

  “They fought—though not long,” I explained. “Still, he’ll never forget it.”

  Shenkii approached us with only two guards at his side. The cave spider crawled to the ground. Sergio leaped and hid behind Irvina. The naiad beamed. “Fear can be deadly.”