Allegory of Pain (The Unearthed Series Book 2)

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Allegory of Pain (The Unearthed Series Book 2) Page 34

by Marc Mulero


  Fuming, Valor kneed Blague in the stomach with one leg, stomped it back down and raised the other to kick him three swift times. Both men breathed heavily, readying for their next go.

  “Okay, that is enough! Aslock called, holding a hand up to Valor while he approached the escalating standoff. “You have been bested and you will concede.”

  Valor’s temper was tested, and his underestimation proved to be punishing. A long sharp nose and slicked back hair made for an aerodynamic look. Defined cheekbones shadowed the bottom-half of his clenched jaw, and what appeared to be self-inflicted scars began at the center of his eyelids, vining sideways to each of his temples.

  “You have created a wave of Cryos!” Aslock acknowledged. “It appears you have achieved true focus even through your rage.”

  “Or was it hysterical luck?” Valor spat, irritated by the outcome of their duel. “Much like a threatened skunk shitting its putrid stench.”

  Blague grinned, looking at his exposed rival. “Jealous, Elder?”

  “Hold your tongue,” Valor growled.

  “Come, the both of you,” Aslock called. “I think that Blague has earned his right to dine with us tonight.”

  Valor gathered himself, took a deep breath, and walked over to the Sin. “You’ve earned your place, outsider,” he stuck out his hand, “all within competitive spirit.”

  Blague’s hand reluctantly met his dueler’s. “I suppose.”

  Chapter 18

  Draped in a fur cover, Blague paced beside Aslock to take a much-needed hiatus from combat training. Wounds were redressed, the warm, murky air of the Citadel cleared his sinuses like hot tea, and his mind raced, still in shock at what he’d done.

  So many questions running through his head. But now was not the time. He had to just be. And so he bathed in the usual cerulean light that flickered around him. Small back-lit water wells lined their path - Icelandic spring waters flowed calmly from stone sleeves, stirring a low mist beside them like lanterns on a foggy night. Hints of sulfur prickled his nose here and there, reminding him of a different time in his life.

  Then came the strangeness - Neraphis swaying past them with their shrouded faces, quietly debating about how best to fine-tune duality archetypes. It was odd to think that each pair of walking cloaks was actually a group of four.

  “You are becoming one of us, whether you accept it or not,” Aslock said lightly.

  Blague scoffed. “I feel it, Elder. I do. But as much as this place might feel like home, my loyalties are still to the Sins - the true victims who have been robbed blind by this… dictatorship. You must understand that I cannot immerse myself into the Society until the basic principles of the Old World are reinstated. It would be like some venomous consciousness trying to infiltrate your sanctuary here. It wouldn’t sit well with you.”

  “Some would say that you are the bad seed…”

  The two cackled like old friends at a bar.

  “We have had our share, Blague, in this Citadel and the one preceding it. I understand your plight.”

  “Don’t get me wrong: I will not rest until I can one day repay you, Aslock. You’ve lifted me to new heights here, making me better equipped to lead the Sins to victory. And anyone who aids in the betterment of my group will always find an ally in me.”

  The Elder nodded in response. “I do not doubt that you will.”

  The two walked in brief silence while the Sin Leader marveled at the unique structures surrounding him.

  “I think you will appreciate what comes next. A tour of the Western Wing of our Citadel will show you that not everything we do is meditative and conjuring. There is a practical side as well.”

  “This sanctuary is enormous. How the hell do you keep it heated when placed in the middle of a tundra?”

  “We owe much of our survival to Cryos,” Aslock said, pointing to the ceiling covered in a cerulean current. “Not only has the chemical protected us in battle, but it serves as a source of constant warmth and insulation within these stone walls.”

  “Every second I spend in this place proves over and over again how large of an oversight my brother has made. He’s failed terribly in understanding the elements with which he plays god.”

  “Yes, well, power blinds those who lack discipline and a moral compass.”

  “Mulderan believes he’s preserving civilization, that he is the only one with the stomach to carry out the necessary acts to succeed,” Blague vented. “He refuses to see that sacrificing his own humanity is the cost.”

  “Eliminating a person’s free will is a decision that should never be undertaken,” Aslock replied as they halted their step in front of a looming door laced with ancient carvings.

  “I agree with you wholeheartedly, but would you still believe that even if it meant saving what’s left of the world?” Blague attempted to play devil’s advocate.

  “Especially if that is the argument. I have wandered this world for nearly two centuries, watching from the shadows. And with all of the visionaries I have come across, and all of the predictions that I myself have made, I have learned that no one has, with one hundred percent certainty, been able to foretell the future. So, anyone that makes such a momentous claim, a claim that they in fact are saving the world, should be scrutinized most heavily.”

  The Sin thought about the wise words spoken by his Elder, and then replied, “It’s truly a shame that all of your wisdom is bottled up inside of a hidden tower.”

  Aslock chortled, and just as he was about to offer a witty response, the stone construct before them came alive – Cryos tracing indentations, illuminating them, beckoning the wall to slowly open like a yawning beast.

  He then stepped aside, hand out for Blague to proceed through first.

  The Sin’s wandering eyes went straight to the ceiling – the vibe changing completely from ancient to modernized… what was this place?

  He then he stopped abruptly, not expecting to see a slender figure exceeding them both in height.

  She was like a flowy specter. Graceful even in stillness, strapped in a long cloak that hugged her slim shape, thin boots embellished with silver threading like decorative armor, and delicate gloves to wrap her long fingers.

  Aslock bowed graciously to her, and she returned the gesture.

  “This is Felicity,” Aslock introduced. “Keeper of the Citadel’s Western Wing.”

  “A pleasure, stranger. I hope that Aslock has treated you well,” Felicity greeted, pushing back her hood to reveal long, slicked back hair. Her celestial voice projected a tranquil and somewhat godly feel.

  “He has. Valor on the other hand...” Blague said jokingly.

  Felicity chuckled. “I see you have found comfort in our sanctuary, Blague. Given your background, I would take that alone to be a success.”

  The Sin Leader turned to Aslock. “It seems that I’m popular here, too.”

  “Besides those from the entrusted lineages, it’s not often that an outsider steps foot in this Citadel. Besides, I wouldn’t be much of a keeper if I wasn’t aware of my surroundings.” She held a curious eye on him while turning her back on the two men.

  “What shall we be presenting to our guest first?” Aslock inquired.

  The hall they strolled through offered spotless windows from floor to high ceiling, gales making them whistle and pang from time to time, and beyond them, a view of endless ocean under a moonlit sky. Blissful. Waves were calm this eve, crinkling from the wind, but behaving nonetheless.

  Eyes then tracked to the end of a wide room. More vastness - this time with ornate shelving stuffed with tomes - Neraphis teachings no doubt - sections of which glowed to life here and there. Blague could feel the activity of those around them. Quiet as they may have been, the brainpower was radiating.

  There in the center, several oval tables lined the outskirts of the room. That’s where the studious Neraphis sat to share their thoughts with one another while others studied “alone.”

  “We will start with the
Focal Laboratory,” Felicity explained, making way into the next room. “It’s the cornerstone of our science, after all. So, Blague, how much time has passed since your last episode?”

  “It’s been nearly four months.”

  I’ve been so overwhelmed with training and this new world that I hadn’t even realized that I’m functional again.

  The keeper stopped in front of a high arching stone pathway and presented the vast laboratory that stretched beyond them. More Neraphis occupied the space, diligently experimenting within the diverse workstations among them like a group of alchemists dropped into an Old World university. The equipment looked unexpectedly contemporary and was comprised of immeasurable amounts of chemical vials, needles, retractable flatbeds, electron microscopes, and various other paraphernalia.

  This facility appears to be of the same quality as the Hiezer research labs.

  Felicity’s head tilted like she was about to address a small child. “You look troubled, outsider.”

  “How could you have amassed such technological advancements after cutting yourself off from the rest of the world?”

  “Well, for one, your statement is largely untrue. We, along with every other society, are all connected in some way. Our donors consist of devoted lineages, charged with safeguarding our existence. Many of our members also come from family lines of great wealth. We’ve used our connections and our scouts to assemble this paragon, one that is ever-changing.”

  “This technology has been shared with both the Hiezers and the Neraphis,” Aslock added. “But where we differ is the extensive experience that we hold collectively. It cannot be matched.”

  “Come,” Felicity beckoned. “Allow me to show you what we’ve accomplished.”

  The trio crossed into the next room. Perfection - the crown jewel. More windows, but this time they curved up and into the ceiling as if the room was meant to resemble a grand waterfall. The horizon was now beyond them. Front and center, unimpeded. Even Aslock was tempted to trail off toward the stunning view, obviously mesmerized by its beauty not for the first time.

  “Felicity, are you a Ludian?” Blague asked plainly.

  “What would make you guess that?”

  “It seems a position such as ‘keeper’ would be earned over a long period of time,” Blague guessed, such as through lineage.”

  “A well-thought out hypothesis. But no, I’m a Derasdian. I’m bound by a friendship that began at childhood. I would prefer no other as my internal counsel.”

  “Would your heightened attributes include collaboration?” Blague continued to probe.

  “It would,” she responded, notably impressed, “along with Primary and Secondary swapping. But those are lessons for another day.” She shifted her attention to the orb at the center of the spherical room.

  The three circled around the structure.

  Felicity placed her hands atop of it. “In quantum mechanics, certain molecular combinations can transmit information without interacting. We’ve harnessed the atomic pattern and manipulated it to do our bidding. This practice has been refined and advanced over time to transmit audio and video messages within the blink of an eye. Our scouts around the world keep us informed using this method. It is a prideful achievement of ours that, I might add, is unparalleled in its efficiency.”

  Marveling at the orb, Blague placed a hand of his own on the contraption. “What if one of your scouts were captured or killed? The technology would then be compromised, would it not?”

  “An unlikely event, but planned for nonetheless. The scout-side orb would disintegrate upon leaving a close vicinity of its wielder, or if that person had expired.” The keeper dragged her fingers to different sections of the sphere. “This, outsider, is how we would find out if the Sins were in danger.”

  Peering over the ledge of the Senation roof, the assassin stood alone. Knuckles were pressed into cemented Izodite to keep her tall, like some lioness statue watching over the Sins. This wasn’t an ordinary night, however.

  Her gaze swept the grounds… no intruders. The light tapping of raindrops was like white noise used to focus, and the lightning that scorched the sky gave bright snapshots of the horizon. All seemed normal… so what was the problem?

  She couldn’t pinpoint it at first, but soon she realized that the thunder wasn’t coming from the sky. As a matter of fact, there wasn’t much thunder at all, but rather rumblings… where the real storm was… beneath.

  Soon after, shockwaves were beginning to erupt underground. Her bones vibrated, teeth clattering against her will.

  Is this what it was like all of those years ago? The Global Quake? She scoffed. I feel nothing.

  She was lying to herself though, because not a moment later, she noticed distant sections of earth crinkle like beds of quicksand, swirling abandoned huts into an abyss. The dusty city of Clestice was now just a sinking hourglass of time, quickly being reduced to its last grains of sand.

  The second coming all of these years later. Blague’s brother was somehow right. And now we’ll have to deal with more poison for the weak-minded. They can cower, but not me.

  Her silky hair lashed from a sudden gust. Clanking from falling debris tugged her attention outward to the wall of debris, which seemed to have felt the winds too. It teetered hesitantly like a drunk lush in the middle of the night, one hesitant sway away from toppling over.

  “I know you don’t buy it, but this is the beginning of the end,” a familiar voice said, reading her thoughts.

  Lesh turned, unamused and disappointed at the words spoken. “You too? How pathetic.”

  Sabin smiled at her predictable reaction. “I’m so scared! Protect me, mommy!” he squealed, swaggering on his way to join in the spectacular view.

  “You’re ruining it for me. Run back to hide in your Crater, Templos,” she said half-seriously.

  “Hah, ouch. Too soon, my dear,” he laughed.

  Lesh looked the other way, rehashing what Lito had revealed to her earlier. “I…” she wasn’t very good at consolation, obviously.

  “What was that? A whisper? You don’t whisper? Wha-”

  “Will you shut up?” she scolded. “I’m… sorry about your family.”

  Against all character, her words muted the hunter, so much so that Lesh thought he leapt off the roof and was forced to turn. Nope… he was still there, eyes sad. Very sad. Like nothing she’d ever seen from him before. But true to his nature, he tried to bounce back and quickly shake off his vulnerability.

  He poked her, feigning shock with a dropped jaw. “You? Condolences? From the assassin made of stone? The world really is ending, isn’t it?”

  “Ugh,” she scoffed again. “Go whine to Cherris so I can enjo-” she was cut off by the sudden touch of Sabin’s lips against hers.

  What the hell is happening right now?

  The hunter stepped forward to catch up with his leaned attack, while Lesh unconsciously closed her eyes. The moment was brief before her instincts caught up with her and a compelled knee thrusted into his groin.

  “Oh boy!” Sabin screeched. “So worth it,” he assured himself with a pained smile.

  Lesh grinded her teeth in anger. If looks could kill, Sabin would have disintegrated on the spot.

  “I mean, with all this death around us, I figured it was time to start taking some action before it’s too late.” His golden eyes gleamed after a wink.

  Without budging, the assassin harshly stared him down.

  “Alright, alright, I’m leaving.” His hands went up in surrender. He then limped toward the corridor, smiling the whole way through.

  Lesh turned again to resume her admiration of the storm surrounding her, left to ponder the murder of her brazen comrade.

  Blague’s tour of the Citadel had ended and time had passed. Meditative days were torturous, haunting, unforgiving, until finally, encounters of fear and regret spawned a strange sort of peace. One that could arise only with becoming comfortable in hell. He wore the pain like armor entangled
in flesh, and accepted it so that for at least a short time, he could let it all go. And so, another successful undertaking in the Society had come to pass.

  “Do you see it now, Blague?” Aslock questioned. “Through an endless chronology of intense training and focus, you have achieved stillness.”

  A long, slow exhale spaced their dialogue.

  “There is a quadrant of my mind that doesn’t respond to my anxiety, nor my will. It doesn’t respond to time that passes or the space that I occupy. You’ve manipulated my thoughts to find this stillness. But here I am, accepting of what you’ve taught me. I now see that this is the only path to unlocking something so deep within me. I must now delve in to find what I seek.”

  Aslock sat in front of his student, arms folded over one another, fingers grasping opposite forearms – a pose to represent a continuous flow of calm energy. Here, however, it was more than just an idea. Cryos seemed to live within him like an external layer of blood cells. But while his body stilled, his mind worked – a deliberation with Soros was obviously in session. Though his silver locks neatly framed his lined face, making him appear reserved, it was his eyes… they were gray and punishing, like hardened rings of stone meant only to judge heavily, at least while they were training.

  “We all have prisons that we carry around with us… our own personal forms of hell. It is true that what you have done in this small span of time, is wade through yours. Memories, fears, they showed through your agony. But now, against all odds, you have completed introduction, developed the tools to exist in this new form.

  “The journey is long, adept. However, I can assure you that your body will no longer betray you. Surpassing disbelief awards a state of acceptance,” Aslock continued, noticeably still balancing two conversations. “We both agree that your values are changing. Look inward and you will see that your body is free from anguish. Which brings us to the next and most eternal step… to unlock her.”

  It was clear now, only in open discussion, that Blague had regained himself, his ordinary appearance. Complexion less ghostly, a tan that gave life was more apparent. The dark circles clawing at his eyes had vanished, and the light within them rejuvenated. His confidence was restored too, but now with a twist – a sense of serenity relaxed his speech and his movements. Not everything was a mad rush. Peace, it seemed, was an obscure ingredient thrown into an already complex recipe of attributes, one that was transformative.

 

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