by Tyson Jordan
A glimmering, golden figure emerged in part and nonchalantly parried Aurum’s strokes with a jagged edge. My breathing grew erratic at the flash of that twisted metal. Lanthanein hurled a lightning-charged lance, cursing as he did so, and the monster gracefully stepped to his side, rendering the Sentinel defenceless and his deathblow useless. He descended and struck Lanthanein only once across the face and the camera lens was smattered with red droplets. Impossibly, Lanthanein slumped to his knees and lapsed into unconsciousness.
Aurum’s superheated sword drew black, charred lines across the shimmering flesh of the angelic man, who only cackled and raised his noxious, fuming blade high above his head. He brought it down on Aurum’s edge, and he was brought to his knees under the sheer force of the parry, fracturing the ground beneath his feet. The brilliant orange of his sword gasped and was devoured by the great hungry, serrated blade. Effortlessly, the Malinvictus kicked Aurum and left him splayed and wheezing in the dust and dirt, laughing all the while. “Be ye scared?”
My breathing grew faster as more of the smoke cleared, revealing the monstrous beauty of the Malinvictus. He turned back and saw his cohort, a silvery Malinvictus, dragging the barely breathing and bloodied Bra’ Hca back.
The monster brought his sword to his side and executed his green-clad foe, impaling him just beneath the sternum. He jerked up on the sword, ripping it free from the Sentinel’s shoulder, and the sword fumed with bloody glee. The Bra’ Hca’s wounds soon turned muddy and rotten and gangrenous, and there was suffering in his eyes before his face struck the ground, his eyes still open but unseeing.
The Delta gracefully stepped over to the camera and crouched down. He smeared the blood with his fingers, cleaning it as best as he could, and smiled. My fists were clenched, and my head began to hurt.
Ferric froze the frame on the Incubus’s fair, grinning face. It’s him … oh God, it’s him!
Run, run, don’t stop running, never stop running from him … At the sight of the glowing golden skin, every memory of Erasure, every last unspeakable moment of bearing witness to the death of my world and my father, came flooding back. I saw my father, beaten and broken, lying in a crumpled heap on the hard, unforgiving floor of the space port. I saw the monster, Vaelryk, standing triumphant over his bleeding form, and then the Shining Gates devoured the glowing gem of a world, consuming everything I had ever known. Stinging tears welled up in my eyes as my feet carried me away. I was entirely weightless as I ran out of the lecture hall.
14
The Maw of the Giant
I was vaguely aware of pushing my way past affronted Guild Initiates and Instructors as I ran, gaining no ground as the memories assaulted me overwhelmingly. Every face, at first confused and irritated, soon melted away, revealing Vaelryk’s golden skin and warm smile, and I felt blood, hot and wet and red, dripping from my hands. My breath had all but left my body, but I pressed on.
Stop running. I froze in my tracks, suddenly aware of a frighteningly familiar voice that commanded me from the recesses of my mind. The voice was both deliberate and deep, and Vaelryk’s many faces in the hall began to waver before becoming solid once again, and I shamefully cried out.
Stop running, Zircon. Understand what you must do one day. Understand yourself, and the world around you. The voice had returned, louder this time yet strangely calming in its quality, and I began breathing more slowly, as though my body was under another’s influence. There was no confusion, only a spreading relief as my pace slowed to match my breath until I had stopped, standing alone in the corridor.
My peers had vanished from sight, and the endless halls of the Guild fell completely silent. I could no longer hear the sound of my own breath as the harsh white lights turned diffuse, casting everything into a muted grey that deepened and darkened. Slowly, the halls began fading into darkness, as if being stretched and drawn away into blackness by an unseen hand, and I welcomed their departure. The shadows grew, consuming what little grey light was left, until they reached me, and I closed my eyes, letting them envelop me in neither warmth nor cold.
See the Spheres, and yourself. See me … The voice returned, stronger than before, and it no longer came from within my head but from all around me. I opened my eyes again, feeling myself falling backward into the blackness, and saw a silvery mist, permeated with glittering gold orbs that chirped and sang with my arrival. I was grateful for their presence and smiled at them as though they were old friends, and continued my descent, not at all concerned with the material world that I had departed. Just as easily as it had swallowed me, the mist unfolded before me.
My fall slowed as I penetrated the mist at last, and the Spheres bade me farewell as they chittered behind me, hoping for a hasty return. The sight of a limitless yellow desert beneath a violet sky greeted me as I landed in fine sand. It was an eerie place, totally desolate yet somehow weighted with a history that was both unknowable and critical. This was a place devoid of sound or even breath; I could not feel the air filling my lungs, nor could I feel it on my skin. Far ahead through the null air and across the motionless sands, I saw a stone tower reaching for the sky. Somehow I knew that the voice found its home there, and I began to walk.
It was all so strange in that world of soundless sand and still air that seemed so unmoved as I walked. The sand remained untouched by my feet, not at all perturbed by my footsteps, and a mute sun hung in the sky, suspended and motionless as it cast its white light. I walked, compelled not by mere curiosity but by a deeper yearning, one that promised self-understanding.
The tower itself, once sitting on the horizon, now oddly loomed too close with each step. I soon stood at its stony base and looked up at the colossus, its form ancient and weathered, but nevertheless unconcerned with the passage of time. Countless arterial roots, green and grey, stretched up from the sand and wrapped around its base, permeating the rock and trapping it in place. The craggy, perforated legs of the spire were thick and without an entrance, and stretching my neck to the blank sky did not reveal its summit. Entry seemed impossible, and I felt perplexed.
The soundless world was shattered by the echoing crack of breaking stone. The still air shook with a sudden searing wind, and I brought my gaze to the sky. A crumbling hand, its fingers eroded and cracked, descended from the heavens, and my heart began beating faster, not in fear but in exhilaration as the hand rested, its palm turned upwards, bidding me entry. I climbed onto the warm stone, grasping an immense, coarse thumb, and began to ascend.
Far from the gnarled, suffocating roots below, I saw the maw of the giant, an impenetrable black void set deep into a featureless, dusty face, devoid even of gender. I could see closed, sleeping eyes set deep into the familiar rock. I wondered if they had ever opened.
With a crack of an ancient wrist, I was summarily tossed into the giant’s mouth and began falling again, deep into its belly. Hot air became hotter as it rushed past me while the sight of a yellow glow, the same that I had seen in the mist, began beating deep in the belly of the titan.
The rocky floor greeted me rudely and I opened my eyes, unsure whether I was living or dead. With aching but uninjured muscles, I tentatively rose to my feet. The stomach of the giant was a round, sunken chamber lit by bright, flickering torchlight. It was caged by menacing stalactites of porous stone. Near me, in the centre, there was a pedestal. It was crudely carved and off balance, but nonetheless fit to support a single battered book.
I stepped forward under the weight of compulsion, knowing that the voice was close now. I ran my fingers over the book’s tattered edges and scarred cover. It was much like the Book of Kyrosya, once finely wrapped but now beaten and torn. It was too thin to even be considered a book by some, but there were no missing pages.
With a delicate hand, I opened it and was surprised to see only a sketch of a sleeping dragon, meticulously inked by the hand of some unknown and remarkable artist. The dragon resembled a thunderous lizard of prehistory as it lay curled on the page, with flat, crossed f
eet and a crowned head that sat atop an armoured and imposing body. The name Arenthros was neatly printed beneath the artwork, and I mouthed the word, knowing that I had never spoken it before yet all the same finding it familiar.
I turned the page and, as before, there was another dormant dragon, this one called Dephrestenes , given its name and form by a different yet nonetheless equally gifted artist. It was the sheer opposite of the one that had come before; this was not some terrible and armoured beast, but an elegant and perfectly curved creature that hung upside down from a ceiling. It slept, enshrouded in silken wings with only its face to be clearly seen, falcon-like and at peace. It, too, was familiar to me, but I knew it was not the voice that had brought me within the giant.
The third page startled me, for it was no sleeping legend, but awake and fully alive, its belly rising and falling as it drew each breath. The dragon was ancient and bearded, its long strands of groomed white hair hanging down from a slender and withered body, wrapped in grey skin that was now too loose. Set deep within the wizened face were two white eyes that shone intelligently, and I had found the voice at last. The old one bowed his head slightly, and I spoke his name.
“Innatus.” The name was a whisper as it left my lips, but this new world responded powerfully, revealing more of itself to me. The torches set into the rocky walls screamed brightly, their flames taking impossible form as they hurled blue and violet embers through the air to die on the sandstone at my feet. The book danced gleefully, fluttering and jumping on the pedestal and casting light of every colour into the cavern. I stepped back, my eyes wide in anticipation.
I saw the bearded dragon come forth, groaning and cracking, as his once-painted body took a grey, winged, and ever-growing form. He filled the chamber within a mere moment, and I fell backward in shock, my back pressed tightly to the wall. The book finished its dance, and the elder gave me a sleepy look before stretching atrophied muscle beneath loose, wrinkled skin. He let out a powerful yawn as orange torchlight returned, and I stared at him, speechless.
“It’s only me, you know. I assure you, there’s no need for the agape jaw.” It spoke fondly, and I could not help but return his smile, feeling somewhat at ease, though I did not understand why.
“Only you?”
“Yes, Zircon. I won’t bite, you know. I’m much too old for such foolishness, and much too lacking in the requisite teeth.” The dragon grinned, revealing deep-set wrinkles around his white eyes. He bowed his head in good will, letting his long and tangled beard drape over the floor.
“Now, I understand you have a great many questions, and I will do what I can to answer them in a way that will help you most at this time.”
“What … what is this place?” I settled for what seemed most pertinent, and Innatus seemed bored by the question, although he did not hesitate to answer.
“This place is a part of you, of your nature and your being. To express this in words could never be achieved with adequacy, but suffice it for now that you are standing within yourself.” In my soul? Innatus half-smiled at that thought, and I knew then that my thoughts were not private.
“Who are you? How long have you been here?”
“A friend, and always, as have my resting companions. They too will awaken when the time is right, when you have need for them.”
“And the Spheres?”
“They are Substance. They are the backbone of what you see around you each day, what many study in ever greater detail and complexity but ever diminishing meaning and reality.” Matter and energy? The dragon nodded once again, albeit with subdued approval.
“How did I do … what I did back there? In the laboratory?”
“You already know the answer to that, Zircon.”
“With Feeling, right?” His nod was wholehearted at last, and I thought back to the Book of Kyrosya, frustrated by the memory.
“Yes, with Feeling. By reaching out with your will, you and others like you command Substance, for Substance is dominated by Feeling. It is the way of our world.”
There was a pause then, as I looked more closely at the dragon’s grey skin, deeply etched by an unfathomable time, and felt his white, piercing eyes staring at me, critically but with no malicious intent. His presence was both warm and impossibly wise, and he waited for me patiently as I sat on a smooth slab of sandstone near the outer ring of the cavern. I sighed deeply, wondering at my surroundings and my life, trying to hold back the tide of confusion and sadness as I looked down at the rocky floor.
Innatus spoke then. “I know this is all so much to bear, Zircon. I brought you here today because I see that you are troubled. I brought you here today because there is much you need to understand, and it takes little effort to see you have difficulty in asking others for their aid.” Looking up, I could see the sincerity in Innatus’s smiling face as the lines around his eyes deepened.
“You must stop running, Zircon. Understand that you have an all too important role to fill in the days to come, and to do this, you must confront your fears and angers. You must one day face Vaelryk, and many greater challenges beyond him.” I shuddered deeply at the sound of that name, which felt like bile oozing into my ears.
“How can I face him? He murdered my world and my father!” My protest was sharply interrupted.
“You must stop running. What good has it brought you or anyone else? What good could it ever bring? Is this how your father would want you to live?”
“Don’t you ever talk about him! Ever! If he was alive, he would—” I snapped violently, balling my fists and seething. The book pulsed ominously on the floor.
“You must stop running. Stop living in your past and embrace your role in the present.” These words bit deeply, and I took a momentary dislike to this grey and leathery thing.
“I can’t.” It was impossible. I was not my father, no matter how much I wished to be. I was not some legendary hero, Cobalt the Conqueror, who had singlehandedly turned the tide of a campaign on Rck’ Hara twenty years ago. I was only me, barely an Initiate, and unworthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as my father.
“You will have to one day, Zircon. Vaelryk is in the here and now, and so you must be.” I shook my head, hot with anger, wanting to leave that place behind and return to the Guild, to what I could call normalcy. Innatus nodded slowly, seeing that he had not reached me. This was far from his last effort.
“Before you go, please turn to the fourth and final page of our home.” I did as asked, feeling the dryness of the yellowed paper beneath my fingertips as I gently turned the page, hearing it crack slightly. I saw not another dragon but an ivory woman, dark-haired and dark-eyed, nude and vivacious. Her eyes were half closed and her crimson lips had curved into an inviting smile. Her form tempted me deeply, bringing promises of simplicity and comfort. Her name, Seelesser, was written plainly at the bottom of the page, and her eyes lit as they met mine, showing great interest. She smiled broadly as my gaze deepened, and I felt yearning for her.
The grey ancient one before me broke my focus, “You must never summon her as you have summoned me. She was the other you heard during your trial.”
“Why not?” His words seemed somehow hollow, and my eyes were pulled back to the page. Seelesser laughed, no sound escaping her mouth, as I looked at her once more.
“She is the embodiment of consumption and fire and death that reigns beyond the merely physical. She will not aid you, Zircon, despite her empty promises. She will use you and devour you completely. You must never utter the name Seelesser .” The dragon’s warning was stern, and the woman began glowering at Innatus’s use of her name. I forced the book closed.
“I will be here to guide you, Zircon. This is only the first of many lessons. With time, you shall become something much greater than you believe yourself to be. Should you require me, you need only call. Now go, and rejoin that world of Substance.” My new friend retreated into his book as the pages went mad and fluttered once more, summoning the mad embers from the torches
anew. I closed my eyes, somehow knowing that my time in that place had ended.
I felt coolness beneath my fingertips and heaviness at my feet once more. The air became stale and recycled, and a growing, sterile light offended my eyes. I blinked, and saw that I had returned. I stood stupidly in the centre of a corridor, with a few Initiates walking by and gawking at me, wondering rudely and loudly at my presence there.
With a glance at my chronopatch, I realised that no time had passed at all.
15
Shame
At that point, returning to class was no option of any kind, so I wandered the halls, unsure of what I had just experienced. It was at once all too bizarre, yet there was a truth to my time in the Maw of the Giant, an unyielding authenticity that somehow dwarfed all of the fifteen years that I had spent in the Guild. I frowned, unable to decide whether I would ever want to return to the cavern.
A round of instruction ended shortly after and countless Initiates joined me in the once-silent hall, clamouring over themselves as they pushed and surged. The wave of grey uniforms was broken by a head of shaggy crimson hair, and narrow, burning eyes that bobbed in the masses, manoeuvering between the bodies with slight annoyance. Janus flashed his teeth at me as he strolled over, but then slowed at the sight of my haunted face, and no doubt the troubled thoughts I was exuding.
“Hey, big guy, what’s going on?” he asked in a casual voice, and I did not know how best to answer.
I replied simply with, “I don’t even know where to start.”
“We’ll talk about it. My room isn’t all that far, but navigating this wave of directionally challenged idiots may prove difficult. I miss my lackeys. Ever since Bir’ Nak was hospitalised, Jaf’ Rah’s been in the infirmary, making sure that his medically stable pal doesn’t spontaneously combust.” The Ocean Dweller pushed his way between two burly Erdesons, cursing about poor personal hygiene under his breath. After many such encounters, we finally found ourselves at rest in his room.