“You were talking.”
The Delta Dracon shifted his gaze on what remained of the mushroom. “I think so,” he said, relaxing. “If you only knew what’s deep in your head…are you genius or insane? Sometimes what’s on the other side breaks through the wall. Sometimes the portals deep in you just fall. Sometimes you break on through to the other side, and you’re allowed to see with eyes wide shut.”
“It depends on what you…chew?”
Araya found something to laugh about it, then turned. Following his gaze, Dagger saw that the defense outworks around the portal were now completed. After breaking through the first fragile wall placed to its protection—a little more than a red herring before the thick and impenetrable second wall—Tankars and Gorgors would die poisoned, stabbed and burned by the countless traps prepared for the occasion by the Messhuggah prince.
“You may be mad, but there’s one thing you can do and you’re damn good at it,” the boy said.
“My lizards definitely did their best,” Araya agreed. “Still, it won’t help. It’s never been hard to fool the Tankars and put them in a trap; they aren’t famous for their acumen, but they have numbers on their side. They’ll just need to march on the their fellows and climb the pile of dead bodies which will rise against the wall—higher and higher, then hop! Just a little jump and they’ll be inside. This stupid fight is so similar to that within everyone of us: sometimes, the defenses placed between two systems made to be kept separated fall, and what should remain on one side flows into the other. So we can smile, or scream, in the face of the monsters hunting us from the depths of our minds.” Araya took a piece of mushroom and handed it to him.
Dagger looked doubtfully at it.
“Do you trust me, Dag?” the Poison Dracon said. “Remember, trust?”
“I don’t want to.”
“No, you don’t. But you have to. Do you trust me, Dag?”
“I trust you.”
“Then eat. The multicolored light of a well-fed mind will be more useful than all the moral and solitude of this world.”
Dagger trusted him and swallowed the mushroom. He expected to see fantastic creatures populate his field of vision, colors turn brighter and everything and everyone, including the dead, begin to talk to him.
Instead, nothing happened.
For a while.
Then he had the strange feeling that the world was starting to fold like a napkin.
He fell down, finding himself watching the ground…
…far away and green as a lawn. He passed a hand before his eyes. Even that was far, because everything was far. He felt the sensation of looking at the world lying on a glass plate, in the dark, separated from everything.
“I…” his voice said, deferred as if it was not his. “I…”
“No one’s got the right to make you sorry for yourself,” Araya said somewhere and everywhere. “Never allow anyone to reduce you in this state!”
“Which state?” asked a voice.
“Don’t ever regret existing. Always be grateful!”
“For what?”
The smell of filth became substance. He felt the touch of hair as soft as cotton. And white. A distant smile and eyes full of gratitude. You and I are one. What happens to you, happens to me.
A red smile. Can you see? Can you see what I did to you?
“For that…” Araya said, everywhere. “Always be thankful for the fleeting moment of happiness you have been granted. It didn’t last long. You’d want it to last more than all the times you were alone, defeated or lost. If light takes us. If light takes us!”
“Who are you really?”
“Concentrate!”
“Who am I?”
“I’m coming. If light takes you. If light takes you.”
“Araya.”
“How I’ve waited for you to come.”
“Where are you, Araya?”
“Out of here!”
“I’m here with you. If light takes us. I was here all alone. One and triune.”
“I want to get out of here.”
“What’s the use of being afraid, my son?”
Black stone.
“Death.”
AHAHAHAH!
“Black stone!”
“Death is the second dance. Hold on! Third comes the truth!”
“I’m scared.”
“The stone of this temple, what did it see? The darkness that blinds. Concentrate! If light takes us. How I’ve waited for you to come. I was here all alone. We’ll meet one last time, father and son and father, to deliver the All to its deserved end. Just like They want.”
“Skyrgal?”
“Our Father who rises from pain.”
“Stop it! They’re coming for you, and you won’t kick up a fuss. What do you expect from this illusion? What is it you hope for, even though you know you’ll never die?”
“Why do you want to kill me, Dad?”
“Concentrate! Creation or Destruction?”
The sign of the gypsy rocked and rocked and rocked, two figures against the darkness, a woman and a little girl. Rain.
“Mom! Seeth! Please, don’t go away!”
A door of light in the darkness that throbbed like a heart. And blood, blood laughing at him in the lap of the gods where the virgins…
“Comes the truth. If light takes us!”
“NO REDEMPTION! NO FUTURE FOR YOU!”
A roar shook the world. He was seized by a purple and fiery light.
“Forgive me, Konkra! Forgive me! I had to stop you all! Ride the lightning when you’ll hear the final thunder roaring.”
“No!”
Skyrgal raised his arm to protect his face as the fiery purple flames burned everything.
“Give up and ride the lightning!”
“THERE’S ALWAYS A CHOICE!”
Araya. His wrinkled face. His smile emerging from darkness. He held Dagger’s hands in his.
“A choice…there’s always a choice.”
“Well said, my son.”
The boy looked around. They were still on the terrace of the Delta Dracon but the torches were all off now. He was lying on the ground, under a warm blanket. Only the purple light coming from the stairs allowed him to see. “How long have I been away?”
“Three days,” the Messhuggah replied. “Time perception is a little altered when the mushroom dances, and takes our hands to lead us to the other side of the portal deep in our minds.” Araya took another piece from the floor and handed it to him. “Feed your head, Dag. Always feed your head.”
“I don’t—”
“Not now. Now you’ve seen, and you no longer need it. Keep it with you, trust an old creature. It will come in handy the day you’ll need to see again what’s hidden to the eyes of reason. Because now you’ve seen, haven’t you? You’ll never let anyone, man or god, make you feel hopeless, without a possible salvation, a puppet in the hands of a master hidden in shadows. There’s always a choice. Do you remember that day in the world Beyond? You taught me that yourself, and not everyone can teach something to this tired old fool.”
Dagger watched the small, flaccid fragment on the tip of his clawed fingers. He picked it up and put it in his pocket.
“It’s still fresh,” Araya said. “Once it’s dried, its power won’t be diminished at all. On the contrary.”
“On the contrary?”
“On the contrary,” the Dracon confirmed. “However, try not to make it dry too much. Oh, sorry, I forgot you can’t die.”
Dagger repaid those words with a sound that should have been amused. He was sweating and his legs trembled.
“Tell me, do you have a headache?” Araya asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, those mushrooms have a completely different effect on me.” The Messhuggah stood up. He reached a wooden box, opened it with a key of his crowded key ring, and slipped a hand into it, grabbing a long root with a green sprout in the end.
“What substance would that be,
now?”
The lizard smiled, biting the soft bud and chewing. “Asparagus,” he replied after swallowing. “After eating mushrooms I get hungry, I don’t know why. They’re great to make an omelet, but I don’t disdain them raw. By the way, thanks for bringing me the Sword. You did the right thing.”
“What did I…” Dagger thought about it. “I had the Sword with me, now that I remember. Angra is dead.”
Araya bit the last piece of the asparagus. “He cannot die.”
It was only then that Dagger tried to empty the whole lot. “They’re coming out: the Disciples! They’re among us, everywhere. While some novices…inside the belly of Skyrgal…they—”
“Bah! Tell me something I don’t know.” The Dracon stopped listening to him. “Come here.” He swallowed. “Time has come.” He leaned back on the trunk, to take out a small package.
From the shape, Dagger knew immediately what it was. “Redemption!”
The lizard grinned, walking to him with Redemption. “Don’t you think I forgot your present. Happy birthday, Dag. Now you’re fourteen. I pulled him out just today from his hiding place. I had to keep the two of you separate until it was absolutely necessary, I hope you’ll understand.”
“And now…is it necessary?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” The lizard put a hand on his shoulder. “It was suggested during your dream: ride the lightning when the roar of the final thunder will shake the world. Soon they will move, and we must be ready. Now go to sleep; you need it. The Hammer Guardians have relaxed their surveillance and I gave orders to let you pass. For what concerns you, you’ve been on this tree three days to complete your training on the unique properties of certain plants. It’s not a total lie, don’t you think?”
“Araya?”
“What?”
Dag shrugged. “Thanks.”
The Messhuggah smiled. “Come here,” he said affectionately. He hugged Dagger and kissed him on his head. “You’ll see, my son—everything will be fine in the end.”
“And if it won’t be?”
“Then it will mean it’s not the end. Now go.”
Dagger closed his eyes and hugged him tightly. He nodded, and again in the company of his dagger, he left Araya’s shelter.
The Poison Dracon watched him go with a subtle smirk on his face. Then he got back to where he was a few days before: he sat with crossed legs on the floor, meditating in front of his irreplaceable view on the Glade.
After a moment, he smiled. “I know you’re there,” he said. “I’d recognize your stink even in the middle of hell.”
A shadow moved a step forward, as if materializing in the darkness behind him.
“I knew you were a traitor since the beginning,” the Messhuggah continued. “I can understand why you did it. They still dig in people’s minds and use the suffering They find against them. With you They had an easy task. Your whole existence has been a constant pain, masked by the manic discipline that forced you to sacrifice everything, every affection, on the fictitious altar of a greater good. And now you have become just like them.”
The shadow took another step forward.
“You’re just an errand boy, sent by a grocery clerk to do the dirty work.” Araya pursed his clawed fingers around the katar he always carried at his side. “But if you think you can beat me, then you’re even crazier than it seems!” He sprang to his feet and turned to watch him.
* * * * *
9. The breaking point
Day after day, night after night, Olem continued to watch over Dagger with the excuse of his training. Yet now the boy knew Olem wasn’t doing it to defend him. The Dracon was keeping him warm for the Disciples, who moved the wires attached to his limbs.
Dagger didn’t dare to think what would be the rite to recompose the soul of Ktisis. He could only guess that They would have no scruple about him and his human suffering. In the short hours of sleep that were conceded him, his nightmares became darker and more tormented. In the long hours of wakefulness, everything was balancing on the edge of a blade.
His teacher’s behavior had changed. During the endless training sessions in the underground room, Olem constantly kept an eye on the stairs, as if constantly expecting a shadow to show up. He hit the roof and hurt Dagger for any reason. Often he screamed like a madman, other times he seemed about to burst into tears. Then he sat down, staring at Dag with his back against the wall and legs crossed on the blood-soaked straw. There was concern in his eyes, and fear too. Olem was a man on the edge.
One morning, the rope broke. The Sword Dracon showed up with two dark circles under his eyes and said, “It’s high time to go with the others.”
Dagger felt his sword slide to the ground. He was undecided whether to consider that news good or bad.
A lightning ignited the sky outside the Glade and the thunder shook the earth under their feet.
The cruel grin was gone from Olem’s face—in its place, only despair. “You were a lost cause,” he continued. “I’ve dismantled your body and mind piece by piece, and made a warrior of you. You won’t learn anything more from me. You can go up with the others.”
“But…?”
“NOW!” the Dracon shouted. Dag was sure he was about to add, Before it’s too late.
It’s time for decisions, it’s time for decisions for all, he had heard Olem say the night Angra had died. Now he saw the decision was taken. But which one? he wondered.
The doubt left him nailed where he was. Now he realized he was bound to Olem and to that place, but not by feelings of affection—the Sword Dracon was his protection from the outside world, like Sannah had once been. He was bound to him by a mere matter of necessity.
Once started, Dagger found it too easy to put one foot in front of the other, toward salvation or damnation as fate would decide.
“Dag!”
The boy turned back. Their eyes met for a moment, but the Dracon didn’t say anything. He bowed his head and turned his back on Dagger.
Dagger had seen a confused look in his eyes, difficult to decipher. Olem was a closed book, he had always been. He remembered Moak’s words, a distant day in the world Beyond, on board of a ship sailing away from hell, Do I have to remind you the asshole out of which Crowley and Aniah pulled you?
Olem had been a street kid, on the margins of society, a dreg whom fate had given a second chance. Dagger couldn’t compete with him, he couldn’t understand Olem’s intentions and predict his moves.
Dagger was afraid as he set foot in the arena, free for the first time since the distant day his training had started. The novices of the Sword had abandoned their wooden swords and were fighting with real manegarm blades. He stood at the top of the stairs and looked around. One of Olem’s Faithful Twelve noticed him and opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and looked beyond Dagger, who turned around.
The Sword Dracon was behind him, little more than a shadow in the dark. “Now I’ll show you what I’ve made of you,” Olem said, surpassing him. “Forgive me if I’ll use you to split this damn Fortress in two once and for all.” He reached the center of the arena and put two fingers between his lips, producing a high-pitched whistle.
All the novices stopped dueling to turn to him, with weapons pointed to the ground and their gaze straight forward. The Dracon observed them for a long time, then lingered on the boys to his right, the ones with arrogant smirks on their faces and hammers held tight in both hands. “I trained a guy recently,” he said. “I trained him all by myself. Fighting with him is like fighting against me and all the Guardians of the Sword. Who, among you cockroaches, will humiliate Olem? Look at him. He’s nothing but a squirt of shit compared to the weakest of you. And he’s afraid—you can read it in his eyes. Challenge him today, and prove to your parents you can humble those of the Sword.”
A novice of the Hammer came forward, pushing his companions aside. He was Heathen, whose nose still bore—and forever would have—sign of the close encounter with Dagger’s knuckles t
hat distant afternoon at the underground pools.
“Me and this guy have a score to settle,” the son of Pendracon Varg said.
Olem smiled. “If you want to avenge the insult suffered by this simple Sword novice, now you have the opportunity—don’t waste it!”
Heathen looked at Dagger as if there were only the two of them in the arena. He wielded his hammer with both hands, performing a show of strength and skill. He twirled the wondrous weapon without taking his eyes from Dagger’s, well aware that everyone was looking. The word spread quickly and many Guardians poured into the arena to watch the fight. The teachers stepped aside, as well as the novices, arranging themselves in a circle to leave the two contenders at the center.
Dagger looked around. Everyone was watching him as if he were just a rabbit about to be slaughtered. After a while, he noticed Erin—worried—and Ianka, who was smiling confidently. Ash came shortly after, probably informed by a companion. He looked at Dagger’s opponent and shook his head. Dag could read their thoughts—it was stupid of him, so stupid. Why leave the safety of the nest that his teacher had built around him? They just didn’t know. Nobody knew how safer he felt up there against the whole world, instead of under there with Olem. He turned to his adversary and raised his sword to cut his field of view in two. Time had come, and they both knew it.
Dagger 2 - Blood Brothers - A Dark Fantasy Adventure (Born to Be Free series) Page 20