Ahead him was the bucket of water in which he was working. Suddenly, the water shook with intensity and overflowed without, however, reach the ground. The drops were suspended and inert in the air. Something strange also happened with the wizard. When conjured the magic of water, he began to feel lighter, levitating involuntarily. Why is that?, he wondered. I didn’t mention anything about the wind! He looked around and was even more startled to see books, lamps and many other objects floating and following in his direction, forming a vortex around his body, which was spinning faster and faster. His eyes widened when he saw the bed rising from the ground, but closed his eyes fast when it came toward him. Apprehensive, he expected to be thrown away, but instead of feeling his thump, felt a shock, as if lightning had crossed him. His eyes fluttered under the eyelids, and when he opened them, the scene had changed completely. He wasn’t in his room, but elsewhere. Did I traveled in time to the future? Maybe. But how would this be possible if I was just trying to control the water?
Mongho found himself in the center of what appeared to be a village. There was debris everywhere; very few houses standing bravely resisted. The magician found the constructions very similar to the ones in Heilland, and it made him freeze. Although his legs were trembling and muscle ache, he ventured to take the first step. He was successful, finding that he could move normally. He went forward with the sad fact that the place was only emptiness and desolation, though here and there be some hungry man was dying eating dead animal remains. He passed them and their presence wasn’t detected.
He watched the red and gray horizon for fire and smoke, and in the west, recognized the remains of a wall. So, he was sure: it was the wall that was built around Heilland. That was his village, or rather what was left of it. His blood boiled and he clenched his fists tightly.
At this moment, he closed his eyes and concentrated his thoughts in the castle. When he opened them, he was inside, under a terrible darkness. On the wall of the hall, the fire of a torch flickered, lonely. The magician was toward it, he overtook it and, after a few steps, and he stood before the open door of a room. He stopped without worrying about being seen. Surprised, he saw the silhouette of someone wearing the crown of King feasting lavishly. He felt the revolt grow to remember the vision of the hungry around out there. He stared at the figure and then recognized him: it was Sulco. He froze. Next to it lay at his feet, there was a figure, a woman with ragged clothes. She was still young, despite the worn appearance. For a moment, Mongho had the feeling already seen her. He walked at her and saw blood coming out from her mouth, while she smiled… at seeing him?
With a steady, penetrating gaze, the girl reached out slowly toward him. He did the same, and to experience the touch of the fingers of the young, he was startled and stepped back. She can really see me and touch me, while others didn’t notice my presence! Who is she?
With fright, wizard lost concentration and the scenario changed abruptly.
◆◆◆
Nauseous and dizzy, Mongho sought to establish the body and, seconds later, he was once again in his room at the exact time he throws up his entire meal on the floor. He sought for the bowl of water to wash his face and bitter mouth, and sighed with regret to see it overturned as everything in the room. He looked at the bed; he would be pleased if it found closer to him. It was about ten feet away, but seemed miles. Every muscle in his body ached. The wizard had no idea that there were so many muscles in his body, and that could hurt either. Exhausted, he began to find the floor very comfy.
“If what I saw what was really Heilland, then I traveled to the future. And if this is our future, I can only change it. But...” Mongho lifted one corner of his mouth, as if amused. “What could I fear? I can travel through time, go where I want! Moreover, there is no one on earth that can hurt me. Only I have the absolute power over time and the elements. Mi estas Dio!”[66] The words came naturally from his mouth, though he had quite sure of having said them.
“Mongho, wake up! These aren’t your thoughts. Wake up before it’s too late!” A weak call, which looked more like a cry far away, interrupted for a few moments his poignant thoughts. What is happening to me?, he thought, but then ignored that thought to be consumed by other, trying to master it, using it desires intermediary who weren’t his. Losing strength, the wizard cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, the tone of his voice had changed radically, as if someone else inhabited his body. Even the look had a different glow.
“Why am I listening to you? You want power just for yourself!” he replied.
“Don’t be overwhelmed! Fight! This power isn’t real, is illusory. Cover the crystal ball now!”
“Cover boltann?! Gera þér?[67]” A persistent voice within him echoed softly. “Ég held að þú ekki að taka það!”[68] he hinted.
“Well, I want and I don’t want. Why do you want me to do that?” Mongho asked confused, his voice changed, laden with suspicion and annoyance. But the answer didn’t come from voice within, but from afar, so serene.
“You have to protect Heian and his sons I carry with me. I don’t want to lose you...” And the last words touched his heart, waking him from his reverie that dominated him. At this point, Mongho suddenly lost control of the left arm: his own hand fiercely grabbed his throat. Taken by surprise, he found himself gasping for air. He choked and coughed, fighting unconsciousness. He whispered words in the ancient language and felt it gave him enough strength to resist the darkness that sought to dominate his mind, but not to shake the hand of his throat. Desperate, he used all the little energy he had left, and with his right hand, waged a fight to take the other from his neck. He was unsuccessful. Feeling his life slip away, Mongho started walking, hitting and tripping over fallen objects. The pain he had felt before didn’t compare with terror before death. Even with difficulty, he reached the crystal ball and thousands of voices echoed in his head, even more confusing his senses.
“Who is he to think he can challenge the supreme power and stay alive?” The sinister voice stood out from the rest. The pressure in his throat further increased, making the veins of the neck throb.
Anticipating that his end was near, Mongho stopped trying to loosen the hand that was in his throat and used his free hand to grab a sheet lying next to the crystal ball. He squatted without difficulty, since his legs were quite wobbly, but colored dots clouded his vision and overshadowed the location of the sheet. No longer able to sustain the weight of his body and fell to the side a thud, out of breath.
With the little consciousness he had left, he thought of Nadjra. No. I cann’t die like this. Not yet. Then he felt a hand touching something soft on the floor. Immediately he pulled the sheet and used it to cover the crystal ball.
The sense of relief overwhelmed him when thoughts coming from crystal ball turned away and his hand dropped his throat. He took a deep breath, coughing repeatedly. He had just fought against himself, and almost lost the battle. He lay in the same place as his lungs burned at each gasp for air. He rubbed his neck, trying to figure out how to explain the various fingerprints that would be it. He couldn’t understand what had happened, and also, he was in no mood to think about it. I needed to rest, a lot. A name came out of nowhere in his mind: Nadjra. At least a certainty he had: one of the voices was hers. As tempting as it could be the idea of seeing her again, he would have to stay for another time, when he was feeling better.
He began to relax when once again noticed the presence of a voice in his mind. Trembling, he sat down and looked at the crystal ball. It remained covered. He despaired because he wasn’t prepared to go through that again. Not now, not ever!
“Skiptu Me! Skiptu Me! Skiptu Me!”[69] he repeated like a mantra the voice in his head, sounding smooth. Seconds later, it disappeared.
What was that now?, he wondered, looking around until it clicks into ball covered crystal. It was as if it had spoken to me!
Suddenly Mongho remembered the conversation he had with Nadjra in her old hut. Right now, he u
nderstood what she had been trying to say about the power of the crystal ball being dangerous, so dangerous that couldn’t stay in the hands of a single person. After what just happened, he had no doubt that she was telling the truth about wanting to protect his father.
“Power is a powerful drug!” he said aloud. Mongho didn’t want to become a victim of this power, and now he knew what to do. He just didn’t know how.
Each time the image of Heilland destroyed came to his mind, he felt the blood run cold, but the sight made him realize what were prince Sulco’s plans, why he hasn’t yet invaded the castle: Sulco wanted everyone inside the enclosure weaken the scarcity of food and water, and only then attack. Thus, his victory over Heilland would be guaranteed with an easy fight without many casualties. Having the crystal ball, Sulco would leave with his army strengthened to conquer other kingdoms.
Mongho felt the throbbing head to understand the scope of the power that carried, a power that was unable to control. His intentions were good, he wanted to protect and help the kingdom, but in the hands of people like Sulco, the crystal ball would become an instrument of destruction.
“How to share this power? I need to think of something urgently” he told himself. “But for now, a break would be nice.”
◆◆◆
Mongho yawned before he could open his eyes, dazzled by the light. He felt sweat trickle down his face. The sun’s rays passing through the large open windows square cast shadows on the ground and in the center of one of them the wizard was lying on. He had spent the night there, no matter the discomfort, and he was surprised to have slept so well. He didn’t remember the last time he had a good night of sleep.
He stretched his legs and arms, and felt a twinge in his ribs, the pain refreshed his memory as to why he was lying on the ground, leaving him for a time immersed in thought.
After all, Mongho got up and followed clumsy to the well. He collected water in the bucket and washed his face, managing to straighten the body only in the back room. He began to collect the scattered objects while searching for the magic books something that could explain what had happened. The hours passed and he found nothing. The wizard began to think that maybe no one had survived the phenomenon to write about it. He was tired and worried, and he was surprised when the snoring from the belly stood out in the quiet hours, warning him that a piece of pie or even bread would be welcome. Looked away from books, and look at the open window, seeing that the day was still clear. He sighed heavily when the thought struck him on his head. Who were the other voices? And who tried to take over my body? He pushed the books on the table and leaned on it. Nadjra... Oh, heavens! He sighed again with a gasp. Why does my heart races whenever I think of you?!
Her name echoed in his mind followed by a reminder: she had given the necklace to Sulco with the talisman who owned part of the crystal ball’s powers.
“How could I forget this?!” he said to himself, slamming his hands on the table, excited. He pushed his chair back and stood almost a leap. Already output, the thought that he was forgetting something important still. He scanned the room and his eyes stopped in the crystal ball.
Mongho turned away from the door. He hesitantly took the still covered crystal and went to the farthest point of the room. The crystal ball was too powerful to be left in a common place. Using the magic of the earth, the wizard created a hideout in the floor, holding the crystal ball there, as the Book of Mages. Only then, after planning a safe escape to the forest, he would meet Nadjra, for whom his heart was pounding.
◆◆◆
Prince Sulco’s guard had increased in number. Mongho swore under his breath, watching the men of the guard towers and gates exchange custody before dawn. It was still dark when the wizard slipped through the garden and into the underground passage out of the wall. He need to maintain careful attention, as the sun would rise in less than an hour.
Acting with extreme caution on the outside, where the only sounds he could hear were the accelerated beats in his chest and rapid gasps that dried out his throat, Mongho tried to calm himself. Remained glued to the wall, comfortable in the shade offered by it, analyzing the few alternatives before him. The magician knew, if not soon, maybe he would never had the courage to move, since Sulco’s soldiers were now scattered throughout the forest. If he chose the road, he would have to go through the barricade made by the soldiers, and then face the roadside looters, which increased every day. No option was very nice.
He took advantage of the various extended shadows on the ground and followed their traces, walking with firm steps, however slight, to the trail that ran into the woods. He was in the middle of the path when he heard voices, then catching sight of three figures behind a tree watching the passage. Even unwillingly, he would have to face them or turn around, giving up his plan there.
Determined, the wizard walked a little more and realized that the soldiers were tall and burly. He was outnumbered; now the downside included strength, because the men were armed: two bare swords in leather scabbards and the third, a log supported on the broad shoulder. Mongho mentally laughed at himself, remembering that, as a child, his father had taught him the basics of swordsmanship. His first lesson was the wise teaching that anyone, warrior or not, carrying a sword, should keep out of trouble, especially if this involved more than an armed opponent. So, it wouldn’t be very smart of him to face three trained soldiers. Moreover, he had no sword; led to only a small knife or hunting should be sharp, firmly tied at his waist. All he had to do was trust in magic.
He took a deep breath, so that the renewed air in his lungs would give him courage, and walked strides, but quiet, towards the group. They saw him and came out from behind the tree, intercepting him with firm eyes as nimbly brandishing their weapons.
Realizing that the man was alone and unarmed, they laughed and made fun of the man who should have been terrified to see them, and it certainly wouldn’t last five seconds of standing before them. They walked toward him, unconcerned, certain to have an easy target; after all, it was three against one. Even though this one wasn’t worth the effort, it would then to clean their weapons, a little exercise in the morning was always welcome.
Mongho didn’t look away from them, didn’t even flinch. He used this short time to evaluate them, wondering what magic would be more appropriate to eliminate them without attracting attention. It concluded that wind power was the fastest and quiet. One stood out in the wizard’s view, the strongest man of the three, which was also the highest. His head was shaved, showing a scar on the left side, and his face bore the expression that only years of experience as a warrior would leave. To achieve it, he would have to give a little jump.
For a brief moment, the wizard hesitated. He was against all forms of violence, of having to decide who would live or die, and he even opened his mouth to try a civilized dialogue. But when his eyes met the soldiers, it was released one wordless dialogue that called for blood. The wizard knew then that the words wouldn’t convince them to let him pass. He would have to fight for his survival.
On that point, his lips moved imperceptible. As fast as mortal, a wind blade flickered in his right hand. Mongho lifted, advancing before the inattentive eyes of his opponents. Before they could blink, he gave a slight jump, causing the blade raise a few centimeters before passing it accurately in their throats, sending them to the Creator. He bent to cushion the impact of the body on the floor while the three beheaded bodies fell with a hollow thud in their rear. The blade disappeared as quickly as it came, and a sickening feeling took him to see the blood splattered everywhere. It was the first time he took someone’s life, and he would carry forever the blood-stained hands. He felt his throat even drier and a bitter taste in his mouth, but it wasn’t the time to regret, and there was no turning back. Using logic, he reacted; if he didn’t want to do more victims, he needed to get away before the guards would notice the lack of men.
He was tired and breathless. Use this power consumed a lot of physical energy; he hadn’t
had much time to prepare. He sighed heavily, starting the first steps of wobbly journey, supporting the trees without looking back. Shortly afterwards, he had recovered and has even run into some rough stretches less to make up for lost time. He wanted to be away when they found the bodies.
CHAPTER XV
Mongho shielded his eyes against the bright sun of midday, examining carefully the surrounding of Nadjra’s house. Everything seemed calm. Too much calm. He approached, remaining hidden along the trees. He held his breath that nothing mistook his hearing, and when he was sure that he heard nothing but silence, he opened the door. The hinges creaked in protest. Mongho noticed the abandonment to see the dust rise in a cloud and dance in the air, shaking the tangle of suspended webs. The smell of mold and mildew did wrinkling his nose for a moment.
“Nadjra, where are you? Can you hear me?” called Mongho in thought, worried, away from the house.
“I’m in the grotto of Bulgari mountains... Be careful. There are guards all over the forest.”
“I will!” He sighed relieved to get a response.
Mongho climbed the mountain with the silence of a wild cat. From time to time, he stared at the floor with hands on hips, struggling to regain control of his breathing hard as he dodged the armed guards appeared on the path. Feeling safe, he took a deep breath and turned to walk. The wizard took almost two hours to reach the place indicated by the witch, this time it would be lower if he had to divert much of the trail to hide from the soldiers.
He recognized the place when he arrived and relieved, he chided himself for not having remembered to bring a canteen of water. He wiped the sweat soaked face on the sleeve of the dress, feeling better, though he didn’t relieve the discomfort of his dry throat. He scanned the place and was lost for a moment as he didn’t find the entrance of the cave. He looked again, this time closer to the small details. He saw, under the tree, ash mixed in the land of fire debris that had, confirming that it was even there. Then, suddenly, he heard a sound. Unable to see what it was, he hid behind the tree and watched. It wasn’t the sound of footsteps, but something was moving.
The Secret Of The Crystal Skull Page 16