The First Seal

by Jared Zakarian

He thought to himself, No one is that old; except for the elves, wizards, dragons, Drey’kan . . . Ikalreev . . . never mind. Lots of races can live that long.

  He brushed off his moment of stupidity, just glad he didn’t say it out loud for Zauvek to mock.

  As they ascended, the air grew colder, much colder than it was in the grasslands.

  Faolan’s breathing was growing heavy and deep. The thinning air was beginning to affect his mind as he labored to breathe. The exhausted and weakened guardian leaned against a steep rock face as he began to see things, shadows playing in his peripheral vision.

  He placed a hand against the side of his head and closed his eyes. He hoped to escape the horrible images that continued to plague him. A sound startled him, and he reopened his eyes, only to see a tower of flame erupt before him and a creature of charred skin and many eyes charging toward him.

  Faolan screamed and fumbled at his hilts as he tried to unhook his blades from his belt, but the sudden terror was too great. He stumbled over loose stone and fell onto his back as the stars in the night sky disappeared, and the moon faded from sight.

  One of the creature’s massive clawed hands descended at him, and it roared with saliva-dripping teeth. Its many eyes gazed at him from all angles.

  Faolan screamed in fright but managed to unhook one of his swords and threw it up in defense. His blade parried the sharp claws and deflected the descending inertia. The beast’s claws raked the dirt beside him, and Faolan rolled to the side and back up on his feet.

  “Stay away!” Faolan shouted. “Away with you, demon!”

  Suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder, and he turned to see another beast of similar appearance holding him.

  “Faolan!” the beast screamed at him.

  “Do not say my name! Get away from me!” Faolan yelled at the foul creature.

  “Faolan, it is me! Zauvek!” The beast shook his quivering form. “Snap out of it! Look around. What do you see?”

  The guardian quivered, and his eyes widened as he stared at the many horrid eyes peering back at him. He shook his head as his mind struggled to understand. Faolan’s breathing quickened and grew short. Panic set in as he was overwhelmed with fear.

  “What do you see?” the creature said again. “You see a cranky old man before you with gray hair and wrinkly skin. Stone cliffs surround you, and Waremasu stands behind you.”

  Faolan blinked, and reality fluttered before him, between flashes of darkness and fire. The hideous beast transitioned from its awful form to Zauvek’s hunched-over and frail features. He collapsed on the ground, and his hands landed on bare rock. He sucked in air as he stared at the gray-and-white surface below him, covered in the shadows of night.

  “I see . . . stone,” Faolan whispered as his arms shook.

  “Calm yourself, child,” Zauvek said more quietly. “Tell me, what else do you see?”

  Faolan’s eyes began to scan his surroundings as he lifted his head. He breathed more slowly, and his heart began to settle. His vision cleared, and he let out a relaxing exhale.

  “It is night, and we are in a mountain pass. The air hurts a bit to breathe, and it is cold. I see small plants close to the ground and small patches of snow.”

  “Good, continue to find the details in your surroundings as you calm,” Zauvek said as his shoulders relaxed. “I think we are done for the night. We will camp here. Waremasu, can you make him a fire?”

  Waremasu nodded, and in no time, he had one burning brightly.

  Zauvek stayed close to Faolan to ensure the campfire would not send the troubled guardian down another path of terror. The night passed, and Faolan did not sleep.

  The sun rose above the mountain peaks as the morning came, and they continued traversing the steep mountain pass and reached eight thousand feet near midday, where gravestones eight and nine were found. At nine thousand feet, Faolan broke down again. He screamed at hallucinations and fired lightning bolts at the rock walls.

  Again, Zauvek calmed his mind and brought him back to reality. Zauvek could tell Faolan’s fits were getting worse. It was becoming harder and harder to revive him from the hallucinations. The old angel didn’t know what was happening inside Faolan’s mind that was causing his condition to become worse as he was not actively under a seer’s touch.

  They continued high into the mountains and finally reached the summit of the pass near eleven thousand feet. The sun had set by the time they reached the path’s summit.

  They could see Faolan was laboring to breathe at such a high altitude. They stopped so as to not overexert his mortal form and so he could try to sleep again, but he was unable. Night terrors plagued him. He screamed to wakefulness every time he closed his eyes. After an hour of trying, he gave up, and they kept moving forward through the dark hours.

  The pass curved south at the summit and descended from the mountains. Their pace was steady on the gently sloping path. A light snow started to fall. As time went on, the snow grew harder and fell faster as a wind began to grow.

  Faolan covered his face with one arm. His other arm held on to his hood as the wind tried to rip it off his head. Waremasu was unfazed by the blizzard as he held on to his hat with one hand.

  Zauvek was smiling and let his face rise to meet the falling snow. It was the first time Faolan had seen the old man smile. Faolan’s eyes lingered on the old man’s happy face for a moment. Then he shifted his eyes to look at his hat companion, but Waremasu was gone. Faolan’s eyes fought the darkness of night and the blizzard to spot his contrasting cloak, but it was no use. He could not see Waremasu.

  “Old man!” Faolan shouted as the wind gusted.

  Zauvek did not hear him.

  “Old man!” Faolan shouted again, louder.

  Zauvek heard his voice this time. “What?”

  “Where is Hat?” Faolan shouted.

  Zauvek looked around for his traveling companion. He shielded his eyes with an arm and peered into the snow and darkness.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Faolan shouted.

  Zauvek shook his head. “Was he not here a moment ago?”

  “I thought so.”

  The ground shook, and Faolan fell to his knees. A dark figure caught their attention. They squinted as they tried to see through the blizzard. The shadow was five feet tall at first.

  “I think I see him,” Faolan shouted.

  The shadow grew and grew as the being’s characteristics took form.

  Zauvek shook his head. “No . . .”

  He straightened his back and stood tall, preparing.

  Two massive clawed forelimbs slammed into the ground before them. The ground shook, and they both collapsed to the fresh snowpack.

  A giant head with two massive horns spiraling straight up into the endless, shadowy snow lowered before them. The creature’s great maw opened, and bloodstained teeth were revealed. Its black skin rippled as its muscles moved. A deep breath entered its lungs.

  Zauvek shouted at Faolan, “Run! Go!”

  The beast’s roar shook the world and made it hard for Faolan to scramble to his feet. The snow was thick, resisting his steps. Faolan looked back over his shoulder as he ran. He saw Zauvek rising to his feet before the beast. The old man held his staff in his hand, no longer using it as a crutch. The scene was becoming harder to see as Faolan moved farther away, but Faolan’s eyes narrowed at the deep orange glow rising from within the beast’s throat. Then his eyes went wide. A Fearlascor dragon!

  He remembered the lore almost a second too late. Faolan turned left and shifted into a path perpendicular to the dragon’s maw. Fire exploded past him, straight through the spot he had just vacated. The snow vaporized in its fiery path, and an orange hue filled the night air. Faolan could feel the heat through his clothing.

  He ran for his life as he fought the snowpack in a half-leaping gait. A second fire-burst exploded perpendicularly across the path in front of him, from left to right. Faolan jumped back and watched the ground before him burn as t
he snow vaporized. The ground shook, and Faolan landed on his back. A deep roar sounded from his left.

  The chaos triggered his memories, and the fire became familiar. The roar turned to screams, and the night turned into a deeper darkness. He slipped into a waking terror as a demon emerged out of thin air and raced toward him.

  Faolan stood up and took off in a random direction. He ran as fast as he could, charging through the snowpack as the demon chased after him. The ground’s slope quickly tilted down, and his foot slipped. He desperately tried to grab for solid ground, but all he found was handfuls of snow. He glided through the fresh snow and disappeared over a hidden cliff edge.

  He left safe ground behind him as he spun through the air. The descent felt long, and wind rushed past him. Snow flew upward and allowed him the right of passage. A flying demon appeared next to him, consumed in a black mist. The demon gave him a sickening smile.

  Faolan’s eyes locked on to the creature, and without warning, he slammed into a wall of snow. His momentum drove him deep into the snowpack and unconsciousness.

  Buried in the snow, not moving, Faolan finally found rest. All that was left was the light patter of snow falling, a slight howl of wind, and the mountain air’s cold, bitter bite.

  ◆◆◆

  When Faolan woke, he found himself imprisoned in snow. A small burrow created by his heavy impact provided him with little room to move. He looked around and began to panic as he saw the small space.

  He could move around only a little bit, slide his arm here or extend his leg there. He screamed when he thought he saw a demon’s face emerge from the snowpack. Lightning exploded in all directions from his hands and melted the snow around him.

  Water streamed into his burrow, and the lightning intensified as his fear heightened when he thought he would drown. A flood rushed in as his burrow grew deeper. He could now kneel, but the water was rising and soon reached his neck.

  He screamed in panic, and the magic heart took hold. The lightning changed into a sphere of electricity, surrounding him. The sphere swiftly expanded and vaporized everything around him.

  Faolan fell a short distance onto his bottom. A giant bowl of snow had formed from the intense electrical burst. The water was gone, evaporated into the air by the immense amount of energy released. He looked up into the open blue sky above and saw the blizzard had stopped, giving way to a sunny day.

  He waited and listened to the sounds around him as he tried to calm his nerves. All he heard was a light wind. As he calmed down from the panic caused by the ice tomb, he felt the pain caused by his fall encroaching on his body. His head hurt. His neck hurt. His back hurt. Everything hurt. He groaned as the pain increased.

  Faolan eased himself to his feet and grabbed the edge of the snow bowl, lifting himself up and climbing out of the crater. Once he was out on open ground, he glanced around in order to try to gain his bearings.

  Nothing looked familiar. It was all just jagged cliffs and thick snow cover. There was a definite slope to the ground. The upslope was to his right, toward the extremely high cliff he had fallen off. Downslope was to his left into a slender valley farther down. There were high cliffs around him with only one obvious direction to travel.

  Faolan looked up at the sun’s position. It was already beginning to fall behind the western mountain, though he could tell the day was not much past early afternoon. He knew there was not much daylight remaining for the narrow gorge.

  He began walking downslope, taking care with his steps when the snow became steep at certain points. He traversed down to the gorge’s low valley bottom and followed the easy route south.

  The daylight waned, and night quickly came to the gorge as the mountains’ shadows washed over the valley. The moon rose over the steep cliffs and into view near midnight. The moon provided some much-needed light. The reflective white snow amplified the moon’s glow.

  The ground leveled after a while and even sloped upward again off toward his left.

  As the moon started its descent between the narrow peaks, Faolan noticed dim flashes of light coming from a small rise farther down the path. He made his way toward the jutting outcrop, and as he neared the natural rocky platform, he saw a gravestone. The source of the flashing was a big sapphire embedded into the top of the tombstone’s face, reflecting the moonlight.

  A single tall oak tree grew near the grave. The single tree seemed out of place to him. He looked around and saw no other foliage. He thought it was much too cold here for an oak to grow.

  His curiosity grew while looking at the height of the gorge’s walls; not much light could filter down either, for healthy growth. After a few moments, he gave the peculiar tree no more thought and refocused on the gravestone that sat in front of him. The gravestone read:

  Herein lies Grand King Regtul

  Forty-Seventh King of the Litanien Volnar Kingdom

  &

  Grand King of the Regtul Empire

  Age: 5,471

  Faolan was stunned at the age of the old king. Why did this king live so much longer? he thought and read the name again.

  “King Regt . . .” Faolan’s face froze, and his pupils dilated. He saw the old king’s face in his mind’s eye. Deep scars were carved in Regtul’s old, weathered face, and regal armor adorned his seven-foot frame. Regtul looked like a human but was not quite human. The king’s hair was gray, and his eyes were glazed over with dull silver irises.

  Was he blind? Faolan thought.

  Then he saw himself from a distance, standing next to Regtul, holding his tri-teeth swords aloft. He saw the grand king, too, with his massive, jewel-encrusted great sword raised high. Both men were ready for battle.

  Regtul spoke with a magnificent voice. “Let us send them back to the Hell from which they came.”

  Now he stood in the dark keep that he had fled from only a few days prior. Monstrosities of terrifying appearance flooded into the throne room. The monstrosities were nothing Faolan had ever seen before, not even like the demons that had tortured him.

  The beasts were asymmetrical with vestigial limbs. Parts of their physical structure made no sense and had no purpose, save maybe to strike fear in anyone who gazed on their horrid forms. One had an odd number of limbs. Another had eyes in random locations. Not all their parts functioned, as limbs dangled uselessly, and dead eyes rolled freely. The monstrosities moved so quickly and crossed the distance from the keep’s doors to the defenders at the throne in seconds.

  And then, it was over. Faolan flashed back to the present. He was winded, and his pulse was beating fast. He shook his head as he tried to shake the memory from his mind and make sense of what he saw.

  “What was that?” Faolan cried. “Raahh!” Faolan beat his skull. “What are these memories?”

  He stepped back and looked at the gravestone, but a shadow caught his peripheral vision. He spun to his left, though nothing was there.

  He unhooked his swords, and another shadow streaked by in his peripheral vision. Faolan spun to his right, just in time to see a four-legged demon charging at him. He swung in defense, and his sword sliced through the demon, but the demon exploded into a black fog and was gone.

  Faolan stepped back, stunned by its disappearance. Another shadow caught his eye, and he spun again to his right. A different demon appeared and charged him. He sidestepped and swung his swords at the beast. His swords sliced through the form, but they met no resistance, and wisps of smoke trailed his blades as the creature disappeared into nothingness.

  Faolan scanned the area before him, quickly feeling a presence behind him. He spun and cut into the lingering company behind him with both swords. This time they met resistance and sliced into flesh. Black blood oozed out of the demon’s wounds.

  The demon’s form deflated into a small imp. It had a pointy nose, pointy ears, and black skin. Faolan’s blades slipped out of the demon’s flesh, and he let it collapse to the ground, lifeless. What Faolan failed to understand was that this demon was a deceiver. A
demon type that could change its appearance and make itself seem like anything it wished. If it wanted to be a human, it could. If it wanted to be an animal, it could . . . even a dragon, a Fearlascor dragon.

  Faolan stepped back from the dead imp and stared in disbelief. His hands were shaking, and his mind was grasping for reality but failing.

  Faolan was so confused and distraught that all he could do was run. In his haste, he forgot to hook his swords back on his belt, but he gripped them tightly. He just ran.

  He slipped and rolled down a steep snow slope. When he hit the bottom, he jumped to his feet and sprinted onward. The snow began to thin, and the ground leveled out. The gorge receded, and the mountains began to diminish behind him.

  He was leaving the Pass of the Forgotten Kings behind. The snow became sparse, and soon grass began revealing itself through the snow.

  Faolan slowed down as his legs tired. His mind began to settle from the jarring flashback and the disturbing encounter with the imp. The calmer his mind grew, the slower his pace became. He was exhausted, though falling off the cliff had given him the most sleep he had had in a very, very long time. Yet it was not enough rest to make up for the weeks of sleepless nights. He pressed on, knowing that even if he tried, he would be unable to sleep through the inevitable night terrors. Faolan’s eyelids drooped again and again as he fought to stay awake.

  The night passed, and the sun rose before him over the eastern horizon. Faolan could now tell which direction he was walking, approximately southeast. These grasslands seemed familiar to him somehow, and in a few hours’ time, he happened upon a field of haphazardly strewn boulders. The revelation clicked in his mind.

  “Giant’s Playground!” Faolan said. “I am home!”

  With renewed vigor, he sprinted into the boulder field. He was elated to be back in the Gashindran Plains, in the area where male giants threw huge boulders in contests of strength. An archaic tradition that decided who would rule the Tri-Peaks giants each new year. This was the same place he had camped with his mother and father when the Nathra charged Darnum.

  How long ago was that? he thought, trying to count the days, but he lost track.