Soulseeker’s Descent

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  “It can’t be,” murmured Mérdmerén. “Bloody pirates.”

  Elgahar kept up the spell while he waited for orders.

  “Boss?”

  “I should have guessed they might have a necromancer on board,” Mérdmerén said sadly. He touched his pendant.

  “What if they’re lying?” Turi said suspiciously. “It might be a bluff.”

  “Mage, don’t you have another trick?”

  Elgahar nodded and turned to Greyson who had already nocked an arrow.

  “Do you know where the pirate ship is?” the boy asked.

  “Parallel to us, ready to board us on the port beam.”

  “Do it.”

  Greyson tensed the string and released the arrow which disappeared at once into the black cloud the mage had conjured up.

  “Fire!” a pirate shouted.

  Elgahar finished his spell and there came an intense light that dissipated the cloud. Then they saw what was happening at the same time. The pirate ship was on fire.

  “What did you do?” Mérdmerén cried. He was not sure whether to feel angry or grateful. “Mage, you’re a genius.”

  Elgahar felt exhausted. He had put too much energy into the spell, and now he was paying the price. He had learned that a less powerful spell would have been enough to drive the pirates away. He had no potions to turn to or he would have drunk from one of health or mana to make a quick recovery in case this turned into an intense exchange of magic.

  Those who had escaped the flames by jumping into the water became food for the sharks. The water turned red in a matter of seconds. The screaming was horrendous.

  “Save me! Captain! Save me!”

  “Here! Boss!” called Greyson in a warning. “A pirate is holding on to the ropes on the port beam.”

  “Mercy, please!”

  “What’s your name?” Mérdmerén asked. “Answer me or I’ll feed your flesh to the sharks.”

  “Captain Turino. I’m—I was the captain of the Bastard, the ship you’ve just sunk.”

  “And what’ll you give me in exchange for a chance, Turino?”

  “I give you my life and if I dare to betray you, may that mage burn my soul to ashes.”

  “You dare challenge me!” a voice thundered. A giant shadow came to stand beside the pirate.

  Turino’s teeth chattered like maracas.

  “No! Don’t kill me! Turino will be your faithful servant for many years! I’ll lead you through the waters of the Dead Man’s Eye! I know the Early Sea like the back of my hand. And I can get help from other pirates! Please!”

  The shadow vanished. Elgahar was on the floor, pale and breathing heavily. But his smile was unique even though he had no idea that he had killed more than fifty men.

  “All right. You can stay, Turino, unless you make the mistake of betraying us. You’ve already had proof that my mage is something more than second-rate. He’ll cook your entrails and make you suffer for all eternity if you play games with us.”

  “You won’t regret it, I swear!”

  “Greyson, you take charge of him. Can you mend sails, Turino? By the way, they call me the boss.”

  “Yes, boss, of course I can.”

  “You learn fast. Good, get going on that sail, and afterward, you’ll guide us to Moragald’Burg.” Mérdmerén turned to Elgahar. “I didn’t expect anything like that from you.”

  “Neither did I,” the lad replied, half-fearful and half-surprised. “I never intended to burn them alive. I just wanted to frighten them.”

  “Don’t feel so bad, mage. This is real life, although you should be cured of frights by now. You were in Kathanas and Háztatlon. You know there are times when you either kill or get killed. If you want to be my right hand, you’ll have to get rid of those scruples. You understand?”

  “Absolutely, boss.”

  “At least we’ve got a pirate on board now who knows what he’s doing. Turi, Cail, learn all you can from that pirate in case we have to kill him. From now on we’ll pretend to be the pirates of Nabas. Oh, one other thing, mage.”

  “Yes, boss?”

  “Two things: first, get yourself a black toga, it’s for appearances. Second: could you cover the sails with shadows? That way no one will try anything.”

  “I can do that, but I don’t know where I can find a black toga. We’re in the middle of the sea.”

  “Give me that toga,” Mérdmerén ordered.

  He pointed to his grey toga. “This one? Now?”

  “Right away.”

  The mage did as he was told and was left in his underclothes. He was skinny, although his training had carved out some muscles.

  “Turi, bring me the writing ink.”

  “Right away, boss!”

  “We’re going to dye your toga.”

  Mérdmerén smiled, feeling that he was going back to his wild, untamed days as a Deserter. Except that this time, he was redeemed by the revenge he had carried out, and safe thanks to his wealth and power as the king of the most powerful nation on this side of the world.

  “To Moragald’Burg!” the boss yelled.

  Chapter XIV – Róganok

  Alac flew, driven by fury and overwhelmed by his feelings. He had lost Teitú, the being that had accompanied him in the shadows of Kanumorsus and helped him get out of there. He had not followed the oracle’s advice, but equally, he could not have refused Teitú the chance to meet his ancestors; if he had, he would never have forgiven himself. Maybe it was a matter of time, of giving Teitú space to resolve his past.

  He located the exact point of entry into Kanumorsus without difficulty, even though it was nighttime. He landed in front of a cave between arid mountains, whose only vegetation took the form of trees with twisted shapes and an air of sturdiness. The light which emanated from his armor lit up his way.

  He went into the Interim and recognized the danger. Several sentinels were wandering the tunnels of Kanumorsus. Mórgomiel must have increased the level of vigilance.

  Two shadows emerged from a spiral that was widening, emitting a crackling as of burnt wood. From its core shone lights like burning embers. The shadows took the shape of winged demons, one wielding a whip of fire and the other, a two-handed ax.

  “Who dares enter the realm of our lord of shadows Mórgomiel, God of Chaos?”

  “The God of Light!” Alac replied with a grimace of hatred so strong that the demons took a step back.

  Alac attacked with a bolt of lightning which caused the demons to lose their balance. Without wasting time, he speared them in the chest and the monsters began to be consumed.

  He continued. Ahead were more sentinels, but none dared approach him. One winged demon flew among the shadows, thinking it would not be seen but Alac spotted it. He hurled his weapon of light at it with unerring aim. A new spear materialized in his hand.

  “Flee, you cowards! I’ll burn you up if you get in my way!”

  Alac spread his wings and flew down the tunnel which led to the portal to Degoflórefor. He found it a little later, floating on a platform and with its vortex of energy surrounded by an arch. He went in and vanished.

  ***

  It was dawn in Degoflórefor when Alac came out of the portal. Two moons shone in the sky. It was not long since he had visited this place but something had changed. He soon realized, though, that the transformation did not happen to this world but to himself.

  He felt the rising sun on his face, but this time, he was not prepared to let it caress him. He flew off, very high. His intuition took over, and he followed its dictates to find the white dragon he had seen on his visit to Gardak when it was still a ghost. He felt that the beast’s energy come from the dimension of reality. The oracle had not been wrong when she had assured him that his dragon was waiting for him.

  A shiver ran through his body. When he understood what was happening, it was already too late.

  A gigantic figure was approaching him at an incalculable speed. He only just managed to dodge the lethal bite
of sharp teeth. He spun around, regained his balance, and let himself fall to see his attacker. He could not have been more surprised when he saw that a beautiful white dragon was chasing him with insane rage.

  “Róganok!” the dragon roared.

  Alac was puzzled. The oracle had not told him that he had to conquer the dragon. Whatever the case, he knew that if he did not defend himself he would die.

  “Wait! I’m—” He was going to say his name, in case the dragon recognized him that way, but the beast slashed at him. Out of its mouth came a stream of fire.

  The demigod managed to dodge the attack, but the beast was not willing to give up. It came in pursuit of him.

  “Róganok!” it thundered again.

  Alac kept fighting, launching bolts of light, dazzling the dragon and, moving away a little to observe it. He materialized his spear and shield and waited. The beast recovered swiftly, and in less than two heartbeats, climbed the space which separated them. It spewed another stream of fire that Alac absorbed with his shield. With the energy concentrated in the metal, the demigod sent it back to his opponent. The bolt caught the dragon in its left flank and it howled in pain.

  Alac continued his attack. A gout of blood issued from a wound in the beast that closed in a matter of seconds. And then its movements, its expression, and its wingbeats changed. Its gaze softened.

  “Alac Arc Ángelo,” it said, in a deep, sonorous voice.

  They were both floating face to face. Alac was gasping, ready to renew the battle.

  “What?”

  “You have passed the test; you are the true God of Light. I am your dragon and ally from the magical lands of Allündel, where all dragons come from. We are the children of the god Thérometh, murdered during the Times of Chaos by our mortal enemy Mórgomiel.”

  “What are you saying? You’re Róganok?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “What!? You just attacked me! You almost took my life!”

  “It was the only way to make sure of your identity.”

  Alac was suspicious. “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “If I had killed you, that would have shown that you were not Alac. Or can the God of Light be weaker than his dragon? That cannot be. But some beings can change their appearance and pretend to be you. Do you understand now?”

  “But…”

  “There is a lot to tell you, my dear God of Light. It could take us months.”

  “Months? Impossible!”

  “Relax. Take off your armor, there is no danger. I am your dragon, and I am at your service. What has become of your Naevas Aedán?”

  Alac followed the advice of the dragon and made his armor vanish.

  “You wear a vest? Cotton clothes? That is not the attire of a warrior.”

  Alac felt a surge of rage. Nobody had ever insulted him in this way before.

  “Are you my ally or not?” he spat out.

  “Of course.”

  “In that case, why are you insulting me?”

  “My apologies. I did not know that remarking on the simplicity of your clothes might insult you. But it is true. In Allündel, you would never be taken seriously dressed like a common man. It is vulgar.”

  “Common? Vulgar? Listen, you gigantic frog; if you want us to get along, you need to respect me. And besides, you belong to me.”

  “I do. But that does not mean that I must hold my tongue.”

  Alac sighed. He missed Teitú already. The contrast between the luminous being and the dragon was remarkable. The animal did not understand the meaning of his beloved vest unlike Teitú, to whom he never needed to explain anything because he could read his mind and their minds and souls were connected. He would have to tell his whole life to the dragon, in full detail. He sighed again.

  “All right. Let’s forget about trivialities. I’m sure my clothes are the least important thing.”

  “You say that, but it is not true. If you wish to be treated as a god, you must dress like one. In Allündel, there are smiths and elves. They will be able to provide a coat of chainmail for you and appropriate protection to wear under your armor. It is necessary.”

  “All right,” Alac said, feeling annoyed. “Let’s go.”

  “Let us talk. There is a waterfall nearby. There we will find enough peace to let me inform you about the questions that matter, and reveal certain secrets that must be unfolded this very day.”

  ***

  The dragon had caught an animal that looked like a horse and was now eating with gusto. Its mouth was open, and fresh blood drooled from its jaws. It sucked the entrails and spattered blood on to Alac’s face and arms.

  “Allündel is the magical land created by the Gods of Good, initially founded by Sarc-Splelendor, nature of light, your creator, and one of the two Old Gods. Thérometh joined the creation of that splendor until Mórgomiel tried to dominate him. When the Times of Chaos broke out, Mórgomiel lost interest in Allündel to focus on other matters that required his attention. All the Gods of Good united against Mórgomiel and his advance toward the destruction of the universe. It was an epic battle that cost many lives, Alac. I was there.”

  “Really?”

  “And so were you,” Róganok said, licking his lips as he finished his lunch. He picked the fragments of meat from between his teeth with a rib bone. He belched a ball of black smoke.

  Despite the dragon’s magnificence, Alac could not avoid a feeling of revulsion. The creature’s breath stank of fresh entrails.

  “You were part of the Great Alliance and together, we battled shoulder to shoulder.”

  “Did we fall?”

  “No, not on that occasion. We won. And we shall win again.”

  “How big was the alliance?”

  “Ah, it was unbelievable. An immeasurable, unstoppable stellar phenomenon. We won, yes, though not without terrible losses. Mórgomiel’s sword wreaked havoc among our people. Have you seen it? He named it Wrath the Godslayer. It absorbs gods, consumes them. Mórgomiel murdered you in the War of One Lament. Since then the beings of Celestial Divinity have done everything possible to bring you back. You are the only god they have resurrected many times and that is because you bring light and hope. And that is why evil is constantly trying to put an end to you.”

  “The first time I saw you, you were a ghost.”

  “True. I was murdered during the Times of Chaos. Górgometh, Mórgomiel’s dragon of antimatter, is very powerful and as old as we are, but it has been nourished with much hatred and its only relief is killing. If we put an end to this dragon, it will be easier to eliminate the God of Chaos. But we need to gather together all the forces of good.”

  “Wait a minute, how were you brought back to life again?”

  “I have been granted a soul. It was thanks to one of the beings of the Celestial Divinity.”

  “Who?”

  “Some know her as Ÿ but humans call her Mother as that is her function: the giver of life. She is something like the fruit of Sarc-Splelendor and Désofor, the two Old Gods. She is everything.”

  Alac was stunned. “Wait a minute. Mother? Of Devnóngaron?”

  “No. Mother of the Universe.”

  “Mother… So it wasn’t just one of Balthazar’s superstitions .”

  “I have felt the soul of a man closely connected to Her. What did you say his name was?”

  “I think he used to be called Tzargorg, then Innominatus, and now Balthazar. He’s a man of many enigmas.”

  “I know him as Mother’s vassal.”

  Alac could not believe it. He felt as if he were hallucinating.

  “Wait, what soul did Mother give you?”

  “Sun, little sun.”

  “Mowriz?”

  “That is right. Now we are one. I carry the soul of Mowriz, a soldier who protected you during the siege of San San-Tera. I do not have his memories, but I do have his feelings for you and he worshiped you, literally. Now it is I who protect you. I will guide you to help you recover your full capacit
y and thus defeat the evil which will soon return.”

  “Will you take me to Allündel?”

  “Of course, but we have not finished talking yet.”

  At that moment, something shook the foundations of Degoflórefor.

  “What was that?” Alac asked. He felt imminent danger and summoned his armor to cover him.

  “It is Mórgomiel. He has come to claim one of his belongings.”

  The dragon grimaced and revealed two rows of sharp teeth.

  “Róganok!” he roared and spewed a stream of light from his mouth.

  Chapter XV – A Failed Chase

  Górgometh emerged from the River of Time, expelling waves of energy. Mórgomiel was mounted on his smoke-scaled back with wings fully spread. Slung over his shoulder, he carried Wrath the Godslayer. The helmet gave him a gruesome appearance. It was adapted to his head, a mask without eyes or expression.

  He had ordered his dragon to land on this planet. From afar, he had been drawn to its mixture of colors—aquamarine, purple, crimson—and the two satellite moons. He could make out a crystalline structure with peaks; if it had not been for the brown of its resinous material, it would have seemed to be made of ice.

  The black dragon inflated its chest and unleashed its contained hatred in a gust of smoke. Mórgomiel smiled at the sight of destruction and breathed in the smoke of the ruins.

  From the palace below, there issued hordes of soldiers like ants surprised in their nest, but when they discovered the nature of their enemy, they were utterly stupefied. They readied their spears when they saw the dragon descending.

  The beast let forth another cannonade from its mouth, a column of destructive matter that opened a hole in the building big enough to allow it to enter. Twisting as it went, it made its way into the palace and destroyed everything it came across. It went through a wall without stopping until it reached a pyramid on whose apex was a throne of resin, sumptuously decorated. On it was seated a man protected by armor. With another gust of flame, the dragon reduced the guards to ashes. Ten elite soldiers with the appearance of insects came down from the ceiling, each of them armed with two spears and two short swords. The dragon altered its shape to create a ring of mist around the king. Mórgomiel dismounted gracefully and landed before the ruler of the empire of resin.