Chapter XII – The Old World
Back in the tangible dimension, Alac could already see land and felt very near both to the destroyed Flamonia and imminent danger. An internal alarm went off and his body was covered at once in his armor. The light he gave out was not strong enough to illuminate the blackness that intrigued him. He flew a little higher to find out why everything was so dark. Then his suspicions were confirmed.
A floating black cloud in the form of a spiral covered a large area of space. But unlike those in San San-Tera, this one seemed less dense and its arms were almost opaque. The cloud had not yet dissolved, nor had the spell, and that was why the land of Flamonia was still accursed.
The demigod felt a pang in his heart. He could imagine the war and the destruction, cruder than the ones he had known. Without thinking any further, he dived down to plunge into the core of that phantasmagoric cloud with Teitú beside him shining with a light red as fire.
***
There was no city. Dawn came without drama, barely visible under the black cloak which covered the sky and inhibited the passage of daylight. The day, once golden and shining, was grayish and feeble as if threatened by a storm of lead. That atmosphere reminded him of Aegrimonia, the barrier between the Empire and Némaldon.
The ruins spread as far as the eye could see. Nothing recalled the ancient splendor of a culture as prosperous as Flamonia. Only leagues and leagues of abandoned, sterile land. Nobody had stayed behind, nobody had returned. Not even nature with her savage inertia had been able to blossom through the ruins.
In-flight, Alac approached a large structure, a cube topped by a dome that still showed traces of paint. The structure was split in half and he could see the inside that was strewn with ashes. He also caught a glimpse of a statue; it seemed to represent the God of Light when he was incarnated in another body. It was headless and its wings were broken. He had already seen this blasphemy in San San-Tera.
The Old World had suffered the same consequences of evil and its greed.
He decided to inspect the ruined structure, the only thing that might be able to give him more information in this desolate world. He landed in silence that he found unbearable.
***
In that center of desolation, Alac was overcome by a feeling of deep sorrow. His legs failed him, and he fell to his knees. He hunched his body and spread his wings as if sending up a silent prayer for the souls that had been sacrificed. Teitú accompanied him in his pain, turning purple and bathing the place in a holy light.
The demigod was still for several minutes, connecting with the earth, his soul, and the past. He felt he had never been mature enough to allow himself to weep openly. And apart from this, those tears were necessary. Someone had to suffer on behalf of the fallen.
When he came out of his trance, he raised his eyes and looked around, this time more carefully and free of the emotions that had overwhelmed him. On the walls, he found several stained glass windows that were as colorful as those of the Mandrake Empire. The dome turned out to be just as revealing about the religious origins of Mandrake. Ten paintings had survived the destruction, each devoted to a single deity. He could make out the God of Light and the Goddess of Peace, Yuli, and that of Water, Mythlium. He could not find the others.
He felt pricked by an impetuous curiosity. He wanted to know more about that culture and its days of splendor. Unfortunately, too much time had passed by now and there was nobody left who had lived in Flamonia. Perhaps the Décamon Mayutorum contained valuable documents.
Driven by something beating within him, Alac went into the Interim. There were no well-disposed souls, only those ill-disposed. He perceived the danger and materialized his spear and shield. He spread his wings and with a leap soared into the air, he was ready to face the threat.
***
Outside, the demons crawled through the streets, pursuing the God of Light. As they could neither fly nor catch up with him, they croaked in frustration. Alac covered himself with his wings and pointed his spear ahead. He went down and skewered three demons. They were wraiths, souls transformed by a spell. The demigod issued a ray of light to blind the demons, and with only a few moves, he finished off most of the ghosts.
There were only five left. Alac sent out another ray of light, which allowed him to see who those wraiths had been in life. They were soldiers who wore their suffering on their faces, they were true Slegna Flamon taken over by black magic. Alac pitied them, but their only salvation was through being killed. With their death, they would be free of their slavery. With another ray of powerful white light, he vaporized the last of the demons.
There’s nothing else we can do here, Teitú. I fear the same thing’s going to happen in Tutonticám. Don’t you want to have second thoughts about it?
We have to go! I don’t care what might have happened, what state it might be in! You promised!
It might hurt you to see the disaster that killed your people.
I don’t care! I have to know! I have to know, please… I have to know.
You’ve seen what evil is capable of. Look at what’s left of flourishing Flamonia. While we’re traveling, Mórgomiel is getting back his possessions and gaining power. Do you understand?
But I must know. It’s the only way of finding meaning in what I’m doing, Alac. Without a past, I don’t know who or what I am. I feel lost. You have your family, a home that’s waiting for you. I have nothing like that, nothing at all…
Alac bowed his head. His reason told him he should abandon this journey into the past, but his promise to the luminous being weighed heavy in his heart.
All right, then. But don’t forget that the oracle warned us. There’s nothing to be gained and everything to lose. At the moment, all we’ve done is waste time.
But we’ll gain my peace of mind, and that’s valuable.
Quickly, then.
***
Teitú guided their course. They flew for at least a couple of hours. The sun was going down on the horizon, and sometime earlier, they had left the black cloud behind. From above, they could see the ruins of the Old World, the dead wasteland. If they went into the Interim they would find demons, lost and wandering souls still intent on their work of destruction. But there was nothing left to destroy. Those poor souls would go on wandering for all eternity.
Thick white clouds floated above the area, but not many of them as if they had lagged during the flight from the graveyard that was spread out at their feet.
That’s where my land should be, the land of my ancestors.
Alac descended. Below, they could see the gigantic crater of the volcano that had destroyed the city of the luminous beings. As they descended, he also saw a group of tree stumps. When he landed, he saw that they were not just any tree stumps. Their diameter would have equaled that of a great building in Mandrake. Those trees must have been very tall and broad because the roots spread for a distance of several strides.
He walked around four thick stumps. They were placed at the same distance from one another, which suggested some kind of organization.
Everything’s destroyed. I’ll never find out about my ancestors, nothing at all… Would we find anything in the Interim?
I don’t think it’s the wisest thing to do, Alac said but too late because Teitú had already gone in.
As they had thought, in this space were several beings that, like Teitú, floated thanks to tiny wings. Teitú shone pink with excitement but soon realized the truth. These beings gave out a shade of blue, almost violet—a sign that they were suffering an eternal frenzy. A wraith went after them to devour them. When it saw Alac, it hurled itself at him but the demigod reduced it to ashes, piercing it through with his spear.
Then the spirits of the Naevas Aedán became aware of the presence of their visitors. Teitú was now shining the same color as his people.
Wait! he called, but Teitú was already moving toward the old spirits.
Something was wrong, Alac knew, but he did not dare i
ntervene. More than that, he felt he had lost contact with Teitú and it was like being left naked or as if someone had torn out a piece of his soul. His mind was in a turmoil of doubt, and the young god felt alone.
He walked toward the spirits. A hundred or so Naevas Aedán were floating, apparently aimlessly, between the four massive stumps.
Teitú! Teitú! he called again, but it was useless. Teitú had cut the link. Why had he done that? Had he died? Or had he joined the eternal despair of his fellow beings?
“Teitú! Teitú!” he shouted aloud, deeply frustrated and unable to believe he had lost his best friend, his faithful guide.
It’s all my fault, he told himself. I didn’t pay attention to his needs at the right time, I made him feel alone and isolated while I enjoyed my home and my family. I should have included him in my life! Teitú, please, please, come back to me! Friend of my heart, my little friend! We’ve been through so much! We are so much! Don’t leave me like this, please!
A deep pain seized his heart, so much so that he thought he would die right there. He had never imagined that Teitú would abandon him.
“Teitú!” he went on shouting disconsolately, trying to make out which of those hundred beings might be his friend.
Here I am…
It was Teitú! His voice was coming from very far away, too far.
Where are you? the God of Light called back, panic-stricken.
With my family, my people, my loved ones. They’ve told me their sorrows. They need me here. They’re suffering.
But I need you too! Think again! We have a mission to complete!
You can continue by yourself. Róganok is awaiting you in Degoflórefor. He’ll be your guide. My dear God of Light, let me be. I’m happy here.
Once again, he lost Teitú in distant echoes. He fell to the ground and wept furiously, hating himself for not having been firmer and dismissing the idea of getting to know the Old World from his mind. Now he understood the oracle’s words. He had not come to gain anything, but instead to lose. And now there was nothing he could do about it.
“Aahhhh!” Alac roared with all the rage he could gather deep within him, cursing himself for not having treated his faithful guide as he deserved.
He was wasting time. Róganok was waiting for him in Degoflórefor. His dragon. He had dreamt of this moment, but now, without Teitú, he was unable to look forward to it. What would have been a wonderful moment, to meet his dragon for the first time, would be bittersweet.
He came back to reality. He was not prepared to stay beside those stumps any longer. He had to stop Mórgomiel. He flew off, feeling appallingly lonely and vulnerable.
He began to doubt his ability to find Kanumorsus, but deduced that he could go into the Interim and leave at will, and also deal with the portals. After this, he concluded that he did not need Teitú to go on and this appalled him. Did he need Teitú at all?
Had he lost him forever?
Chapter XIII – Smooth Sailing
“Port!”
“No, starboard!”
“Port!”
“No, I said starboard!”
“Following wind!”
“Set course to the northeast! Lion Fist on deck!”
Mérdmerén was giving orders with Greyson contradicting them and unfortunately for everyone, neither of them knew what he was doing amid those unpredictable, enormously high waves which formed crests and abysmal troughs. The crew only knew the Dead Man’s Eye from the stories they had heard and were not even remotely prepared to deal with its fury. At least the Nabas was well-equipped as a ship against nature’s assaults.
The sky was a grey bonnet torn by lightning and thunder which churned up the sea and threatened to bury them beneath the water.
“Come on sea, you bitch!” Greyson shouted like a madman.
“Don’t tempt the Goddess of Water, you fool!” Mérdmerén shouted back. He was soaking wet.
In the crow’s nest, a female thief was scanning the horizon to warn of approaching dangers.
“There are bigger waves on the way! I’m getting down from here!”
The woman climbed down the rope ladder and then went straight to her cabin. Below deck, most of the crew was as nervous as a clowder of cats confronted by a wolf. In one bunk Turi, Cail, and the woman thief, who was called Funia, were holding on as tightly as they could, trying to keep their balance against the battering of the wild sea. They were not the only ones who had thrown up their dinner.
Cail’s face was waxen. “D’you think we’ll come out of this one?”
A fierce blow sent Turi against Funia’s swelling bosom. The boy smiled, and she answered him with a loud slap that sent the little thief back to his side, bouncing and hitting his head in the process. Cail laughed. Then he threw up.
In another cabin, Elgahar was trying to resist the wild swaying too. He was sharing the space with three women and all of them aware that the mage’s soul was pure so that they had no qualms about huddling against him to soothe their fears. Elgahar, who had never felt women so close to him before—much less ones dressed in such tight clothes—felt the twanging of his nerves and the beginnings of excitement. The lad was not averse to this contact with his fellow travelers not out of desire, but out of comfort or even vanity as in this way, he felt he was behaving like a protective male.
***
Once the storm had passed, there was a general inspection of the ship. It was intact.
“Come on, you vermin!” said the king who, after having experienced danger all over again, had returned to the manners of his time as a bandit.
He imagined himself as a pirate, far from the court and a life of luxury. What would his life have been like if he had never been a counselor? He probably would never have been banished, which would have saved him a great deal of suffering. He sighed, telling himself there was no point now in regretting a past that had never happened.
“The day’s growing old, you misbegotten rabble!” he roared. “To work, I said! I want the sails set and the cabins in order! Get to it!”
The thieves watched him warily, particularly the veterans like Greyson, who were not used to hearing him address them like that.
The storm had caused several problems. The most obvious and bothersome one was the chaos left by all the things which had been thrown everywhere. Additionally, one sail was torn. But the worst thing was that they had lost their bearings and had no idea where they were. The sun was directly above their heads, and together with the salty air, it burnt their skin.
“Come on, you leeches! If we’re found by a ship full of cut-price, low-life pirates, they’ll come storming on board to kill us, rape the women, and rob us of everything we’ve got. We can’t let that happen. With just two sails they’d catch us straight away. Everyone have their weapons at the ready! And bring me the mage!”
Shouting those words with his sword pointing at the sky, Mérdmerén cut a comical figure. Some of the women were whispering and giggling.
Greyson wasted no time in bringing Elgahar to the bow where Mérdmerén was scanning the horizon, looking out for the pirate ship.
“My King,” Elgahar said and bowed.
“I’m not going to tell you all over again that I’m not interested in your fancy forms of address here, mage. Call me Mérdmerén or boss. At first, I wasn’t comfortable with that, but if the pirates catch up with us, it’d be better if they don’t know who I am.”
Mérdmerén climbed up the mast.
“From now on you’re to call me boss!”
“Right you are, My King!” cried Greyson and various other members of the crew.
“I’ve told you to call me boss! Not king, dammit!”
“Right you are, boss!”
Turi came up to the deck and went toward the bow.
“So it’s boss after all, huh? I like that.”
“Wipe that smile off your face, Turi. It’s not the moment for it.” He turned and gestured at the horizon. “You see that ship? Black sails. Wh
at do you think it’s on its way to do?”
“Pirates…”
“Exactly. Get ready because they’ll catch up with us before we finish mending that sail.”
“Yes, boss!” He ran to fetch his weapons.
Elgahar’s face hardened. He clenched his teeth.
“And what do I do?”
“I doubt your magic is powerful enough to repel those pirates, so you’re going to help me put fear into their hearts.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” the lad said. “What do I do?”
“Well, you’re a mage, and I guess an able one otherwise Strangelus wouldn’t have chosen you. Think, come up with something that’ll save our skin. Or I’ll skin you.” Mérdmerén turned and went on barking orders all around.
The mage watched him in terror for a moment, then concentrated. They were surrounded by water, an eternity of water. And in the distance, a tiny black dot was approaching steadily.
***
The enemy ship was close. It was easy to make out on that luminous day, as was the king’s ship which dazzled on the sea with its gold paintwork. Then Mérdmerén realized that taking only a few soldiers on board with him had been a mistake.
“Hell!” he muttered.
An arrow with a fiery tip flew through the air and struck the polished wood of the royal ship.
“Put that fire out!” the boss cried.
From the water, there rose a thick black cloud which gave out bolts of lightning. The crew of the Nabas was left paralyzed by terror.
A terrible laugh rang out.
“Approach this possessed ship and you’ll fall under the force of Elgahar, tamer of wyverns. Do you dare to go on?”
“Is that the mage?” Cail whispered in the dark.
Turi shrugged.
“Make your mage surrender, or we’ll send over our necromancer,” came a shout from the other ship.
Soulseeker’s Descent Page 8