by Ross Turner
The Souls of the Ocean
Book Two
By Ross Turner
©Ross Turner
Prologue
It was once the case, many millennia ago, long before Tamarack came into being, that another civilisation once existed, where those of Tamarack now reside. These past peoples have long since been lost to the legends of history - their names changed, altered, and eventually forgotten altogether.
This civilisation stood alone with no Gods to protect it, no saviours to defend it, and yet still prospered. The people were happy and contented, and lived on for many hundreds, even thousands of years, despite the enormous odds stacked so heavily against their survival.
Pitted against the vast emptiness of the universe, it seemed almost too good to be true that they could continue to endure so. And indeed it was.
Just as their names were lost to the eons of time, so too were their cities and bodies - all physical traces of their existence gone.
Nevertheless, through all the hardship, there was still one element of their great civilisation remaining, one remnant that still survived and struggled on, waiting.
It was the case however, that another world also existed, living alongside this ancient race, far out of sight beyond the limited view of the night sky. But these distant peoples did not consist of men and horses, birds and insects, nor mammals and reptiles. These peoples were not people at all. They were monsters and fiends, beasts, giants and freaks, demons alike.
And this dark civilisation, concealed from view, did not endure with contentment and pleasure. These demons lived their endless lives nurturing a burning jealousy, and a never-ending want, a desire, a hunger, a need. They needed more.
This monstrous world was an anomaly. This was not how the universe was meant to evolve. They had come about through nothing, it seemed, other than random chance, and such a thing has no place in the world.
They had to be purged, for the sake of the universe itself.
But, though a deep sorrow it was, it simply could not be the fate of such a contented civilisation to rid the world of this menace. There was not the will amongst them to do so. Heartbreakingly, their happiness was also their downfall.
Such a task requires determination, resolve, and an iron-clad will so impenetrable that there could be no possibility of matching it; and sadly, it is the case that such attributes are forged only through pain and suffering.
Consequently, from that single moment, they were doomed, for they could not play the role required of them in their current state of being.
So they were changed, against their will, as usually is the hand of fate, and their civilisations were destroyed. The vast oceans bordering their lands swelled and rose in a pitying anger and swallowed their great cities, all evidence of their being buried deep beneath the surface of the new waters, and returned consolingly to the earth. Their bodies were lost to the earth also, feeding its new growth and change, pushing it on.
But their souls, however, did not come to rest peacefully, and were cast into the deep swells and rises to create dark, angry waves and seething black froth. And there they dwelled for many more hundreds, even thousands of years, heartbroken and outraged at how they had been used so.
From that terrible day forward, they came to be known as the Souls of the Ocean: the civilisation of lost souls whose lives had been destroyed for the sake of the protection of the universe.
They were destined to live the remainder of their lives in limbo, with dreadful dreams of vengeance filling their every existing moments. This sad truth made them almost no better than the very demons for which they had been changed so in order to destroy.
Though they had been unable to produce an individual with the strength and will required of the daunting task of cleansing the universe, it seemed they were to still be instrumental in the event, as are the strange ways of the world, its workings sometimes unfathomable.
In their countless millennia cast into the deep ocean, waiting for a single opportunity, a strange and vast knowledge fell over this lost civilisation of souls. This was such knowledge that only endless time and immortality may bring, even if that immortality is derived from a horrendous suspension of existence, somewhere in between a lost life and a death so near, yet so far.
From the understanding given to them, they drew up the thought of their encroaching opportunity, and plotted fiendishly on it.
Finally their time was drawing near.
This was the chance they had been so longing for.
It was at that point, as was widely known throughout the Kingdom of Tamarack, that the four Gods arrived. After travelling through the vast time and space of the universe in search of a suitable home, it was upon the desolated home of the lost souls that they set their eyes.
Even as they stood atop the waters of the place they would soon call home, Ormath, Enthel, Koack and Depozi alike, were cursed from below. But the lost souls posed them no threat, and so, they continued regardless.
Each cast the meteors, upon which they travelled, down from the sky and into the deep ocean, and each swelled and rose to form an island. Next, each of them chose, created, and named their own people, to live and to prosper upon their island.
They then created four bridges to join the islands, all meeting in the centre of Tamarack at Compii Tower, the crossing secured endlessly by four guards. This was a precautionary measure the Gods had established long ago, in order to prevent the spread of disease. Little did they know that in the years still to come, such a thing would be the least of their worries.
And finally, they cast a thick mist over the ocean, ensuring, they hoped, that their people would learn to be wary of it, for it was a vile and dangerous place.
From those deep, dark waters the Souls of the Ocean cursed the living foully, and plotted one day to bring them and their world to a vengeful end.
Then their first opportunity, the one they had been awaiting, finally arrived. As the Gods had expected, at one point or another, disease plagued their kingdom. But it was only Depozi’s people who suffered, and many of his children were lost to the dreadful plight.
One such child was so overcome with sorrow, that he cast himself into the ocean in a bid to end his own suffering, and to re-join his lost kin. He became the first the lost souls infected. They saved his life, protecting him from the perishing waters and, after poisoning his mind, set him upon his fellow people to wreak havoc and death, and the lost souls relished in it.
In His waning sanity, Depozi looked upon the spectacle in dismay, and believing He could see the Souls of the Ocean swarming endlessly amongst His people, He decided to do the unthinkable. Against the will of His brothers, Depozi called forth the beasts from the demonic realm to purge the evil from His children, and in doing so, only worsened the situation.
The lost souls had planned to drive more of Depozi’s children into the ocean to infect, and use them to claim the other islands also, but, in His confusion, Depozi had presented them with a much greater opportunity.
With their strange knowledge of the universe, gleaned from their limitless, yet torturous existence, they learned of one who would come to Tamarack to vanquish these demons back to whence they came.
And so they waited, and before too long the one they wanted was indeed born. They sensed her power growing for many years, until finally she was ready.
Demon-Lord Depozi’s madness had deepened beyond the point of insanity, and the board was soon set.
Her quest began and her power increased tenfold, and the Souls of the Ocean were pleased. Their, as of yet, greatest opportunity, had at last arrived.
They would use Isabella to gain control of the demons, infect them, and exact their revenge.
She first crossed with her companions the paths of unbreakable stone to leave her home of the Demon-Lord, and that was when they first struck: when she was at her weakest. Her party was ambushed and, amidst the confusion, Isabella had cast a still-living demon into the murky water, her mind still connected to it.
The Souls relished in the opportunity and scrambled to claim and poison her. But she managed to pull back. She escaped them, and they howled in anguish, and still so desperately longed for her. They needed her.
They were only presented with one more chance. Another crossing, and this time they were much more subtle, lulling their victim into a false sense of security, slowly dragging Isabella from her companions, and into their vengeful grasp.
And they almost succeeded.
But alas, it was not to be, and their anger was great and their resolve grave. Something had prevented them, something they did not recognise, nor understand: a sound, a whisper - a voice for which they could find no owner.
And so still they desired and ached for Isabella. But she would not be theirs, for they received no further chances to claim her mind, and her great power would, regrettably, never be theirs to wield.
So, as the lost souls had rightly surmised, Isabella defeated her maddened God, and overcame the hordes of demons that would so beautifully have suited the their desires.
She defended and protected her people and her home, both graciously and resolutely, and that angered the lost souls only further, as none had ever done so for them.
The people of Tamarack lived on and continued to prosper, safe in the knowledge that Isabella and her husband lived amongst them, and that they would forever defend the kingdom if the need once again arose.
But this was not the case.
At least some part of the lost souls’ existence had imprinted itself upon Isabella, because even as she lived on in peace, almost two decades later, the thought of their longing still plagued her nightmares.
However, what she did not know was that it was no longer her power that they so desired.
Again, thanks to their horrid immortality and the unwordly knowledge that they gained from it, the Souls of the Ocean had learned of one even more powerful that Isabella Ta’Quedara. And just as they had done with her, they knew of this one even before he came into physical existence. Although, as closely as they could surmise, his soul had wondered the universe for as long as it had existed, if not even longer, and was more age-old than the stars themselves.
As the one they were now so eagerly awaiting approached his awakening, they remained patient and ever vigilant. They knew that, before that moment, he would be useless to them. But when it did happen, they would strike swiftly, ensuring that he was totally unprotected.
They refused to make the same mistakes they had done with Isabella. They would not allow this one time to develop his strength. He would be theirs from the very beginning, from the moment even he learned of his power. And then, once they had him, they would mould him as one of their own, shaping him to suit their desires.
Through him they would summon the demonic vessels they needed to harbour their souls, and to exact their vengeance on Tamarack’s living.
The strange voice that had robbed them of their strengthening hold on Isabella would very soon come into physical being, and they would be ready and waiting. He would be theirs, and they would succeed.
There had once been a time when sweet Isabella had been their only hope of vengeance, and that single hope, along with any other far off possibilities, had been all but lost, forever extinguished.
Until now.
1
The prospering village of Kalaris, nestled safely in the tall shadows of the Kalaren Peaks, was now home to many people in Rilako, verging on almost two hundred strong; the population had recovered well, and even grown of late.
The village had been all but demolished nearly twenty years ago, when the wrath of the demons had been such that they would have done anything to find and destroy Isabel. And find her they did, at the meagre cost of destroying Kalaris, and murdering the vast majority of its residents.
Those who had escaped and managed to survive had fled to the mountains, desperate to evade the horrific slaughter. And when they returned, they found but a smouldering ruin of what was once their home.
But they also found, much to their surprise, hope, and even delight amidst that charred ruin - two strangers who had not fled to the mountains with the others, awaited them. These were two whom no one amongst their remaining numbers recognised.
It was with shock that the homeless villagers discovered that these strangers were none other than Isabella the Eternal and Timeless Zanriath, the very souls who had saved Tamarack from consumption and destruction. And now, it seemed, they had set their wills to the task of helping rebuild that which was lost in the struggle for freedom.
And so, though they were few in number, less than ten, even after all the surviving villagers had returned from the mountains, they put their hands to work and bent their backs to labour. They soon reaped the rewards of their efforts, and a new home for their tight-knit community began to take shape.
Others who had either seen or heard of the destruction, more than likely through Pike at Still Waters, had also come to lend their wills to the cause.
Many hands make light work.
Due solely to their painstaking efforts, it soon came to be that Kalaris flourished once again. It outgrew its former self and blossomed carpenters, craftsmen, farmers, metalworkers, midwives, even teachers, and they all settled into their new lives with relative ease. It was so perfect that almost even their troubles of the past were forgotten, but, of course, that could never be completely the case.
Pains and suffering of the past will always remain to haunt you in one way or another, regardless of how greatly you strive to bury them.
At the heart of this thriving community were Isabel and Zanriath. After the couple had completed their quest, and Depozi had been defeated, they had committed themselves to the salvation of Kalaris. Soon their success was evident, and their community strong.
After only a few short years they were wed, and the village rejoiced, but their work continued nonetheless. There was still much more to be done: homes and facilities to be built and as more and more children were born, the population continued to surge, only creating yet more work, but indeed also greater glee.
Then, within only another year, Isabel fell pregnant and gave birth to a son. The village rejoiced once more, as they would with the joy of every individual amongst them, as is the way with such a close community. Their son, Isabel and Zanriath named Colvan, and he brought the young couple much happiness.
Young Cole would be the centre of Isabel and Zanriath’s lives for the remainder of their years, but it was also the case that they would remain at the centre of their community for the rest of their lives, for the service they had done Tamarack was unforgettable.
Every year without fail, on the anniversary of the date that Isabel and Zanriath had returned to rebuild Kalaris, a great feast was held, and many hours were spent on song and dance and various other entertainments. The event was a celebration of freedom, and was indeed well deserved.
Initially, this annual celebration was simply a tradition developed and upheld only in Kalaris. After a few years however, the festivities spread throughout Rilako, and before long the whole island celebrated together each year. They feasted and toasted to freedom, and to the return of Isabel and Zanriath to Rilako to help those of Kalaris rebuild all that had been lost. Their merriment endured long into the night each year, as they enjoyed their freedom while it lasted.
It was not until he began to grow and develop that young Cole learned more acutely the reasons for such celebration.
As a child he revelled in the attention brought to him by his parents’ renown, as any child would. But as inevitably as the seasons will tu
rn, Cole grew and matured and soon reached the tender and awkward stage of life where he was no longer a boy, but not quite a man either. During this difficult time, he struggled with several daunting realities that plagued him relentlessly, never ceasing to taunt his still fledgling and fragile mind.
When the rich and enchanting snows of winter now fell, and changed the landscape all around, Cole no longer played in the fresh powder with the other children. And when, as spring sprung and the world blossomed with new life, and the only snow that remained was that atop the Kalaren Peaks, still Cole remained separate.
Even in the height of summer, as the lush fallow fields that swept endlessly off into every distance, rolling in great waves of green and red and yellow, drawing the children in vast hordes out from the village, Cole wandered alone. This was not out of choice exactly, nor out of necessity.
His mother and father were the characters of folktale and legend, celebrated and revered throughout Rilako, and most likely the whole of Tamarack. They were famous for the great deeds they had performed in service of the kingdom, which had, of course, required great power to complete. It was, quite simply, the knowledge of this immense power that had separated Cole from his playmates and friends.
It was not fear, as such, that his peers displayed, more so a certain wariness. But even that would not have been enough to keep Cole’s friends from his company, for they were persistent and caring, and all dearly loved him, not wishing for him to separate himself so.
The main cause, as these persistent playmates came to find, was Cole himself. He did not wish for such a thing, but was endlessly distressed by a single solitary and haunting truth - his own distinct lack of potential. As is always at the forefront of an adolescent boy’s mind at that age, Cole wished nothing more than to prove himself: to live up to his parents’ names.
