by Ross Turner
“Thank you all!” His expansive and enigmatic voice boomed. “I have much enjoyed your company on this fine, if not cold day.” There was a subdued laughter amongst the crowd and most began to disperse, but Crane interrupted them. “A moment if you will my friends!” Those leaving glanced back reluctantly, many of those who had not listened to the strange man tell stories before expecting glumly for him to ask them for money.
But he did not. He seldom did.
Instead, Crane stood tall, pulled his wiry shoulders back and held an open hand out towards Cole. Cole grimaced and began to edge away, but Crane’s voice stopped him forcefully. It was calm and steady, not a shout, but nonetheless still very loud, managing to reach even all that way across the noisy market.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is a rare treat that today we find ourselves in the company of such a fine individual.” Heads turned robotically and all eyes fixed upon Cole. Some seemed pleased, some snickered, others, who he had not seen before, looked perplexed.
Crane continued relentlessly.
“For here, today, we have before us, none other than the son of Isabella the Eternal and Timeless Zanriath! Young Colvan!” Crane’s voice rose in crescendos as he spoke and a beaming smile broke out across his thin face, seeming to divide it neatly in two.
Cole wished nothing more than to shrink and melt into the ground beneath him as his face flushed bright crimson. Then an unrecognisable voice from the crowd spoke up, likely a stranger from out of town.
“He’s their son?” The voice asked in disbelief. Cole’s heart sank deeper than ever before, reaching a record new bottom.
“He is.” One of the older children amongst the crowd confirmed for the stranger, one of Cole’s playmates from a younger age - one, Cole noted, that he had never been particularly fond of. “But he isn’t a sorcerer. And he isn’t a Demon-Slayer either. There aren’t any demons left.”
At that moment, Cole could not possibly have described the flurry of emotions he felt, even if he had tried for a hundred years or more. In those few short, simple statements, he had been reduced from the insignificant child he had felt like before, to barely even a spec of existence. He removed himself, with some haste, from the scene, else he might not have known what he would have done. He certainly did not want his fragile emotions on open display in the middle of the market.
He did not go straight home. He could not. Instead, carrying the things he had bought for his mother with him still, he left Kalaris. Where he was going he did not know. He could not think rationally. His emotions were running away with him like wildfire, spreading uncontrollably from one to the next.
He found himself running without direction, almost without feeling, the same questions and torturous truths bubbling up as they always did from deep within him. Except that now, thanks to the efforts of an odd storyteller, a stranger, and a child, they were all but confirmed as plain truth.
He was inadequate. He was insignificant. His role models, the fabric of legend, would forever better him, and he would only ever disappoint them.
This world, whatever it was, whatever it had been in the past, would never give him the answers he desired, the answers to questions that he did not even know. He only knew that something was wrong, that he wanted more from life, that something wasn’t enough. And, potentially, that the only thing that wasn’t enough, was himself.
The feeling was insatiable, and it always had been. No matter how hard Cole tried, he had never been able to escape it.
He was crushed.
The day was wearing on and the cold of the afternoon was giving way to the rapidly advancing twilight. Candles were soon lit and less and less light infiltrated the encroaching darkness, before long the candlelight becoming the only source of light. Isabel sat worriedly alone, and thought only of her missing son.
Cole had been gone much longer than necessary, and they had soon grown very concerned. The errand she had requested of him should only have taken a short while to complete, and now he had been gone most of the day.
She hoped he had gone to visit Rosynn, but it would have been out of his way and unlike him. Upon Zanriath’s firm insistence, Isabel had remained home to await their son’s return, whilst he ventured out to search for him. But the day had now passed, and still there was no sign.
And so Isabel waited, sat staring anxiously out of the window and regularly pacing the candlelit rooms, checking outside at even the faintest of sounds that could have indicated her son’s approach.
For a long time there was nothing but the noise of the crackling fire in the hearth, warming the lonesome house in the darkness, though the comfort from its flames did not ease Isabel’s strife, and seemed to barely even reach her, her senses numbed by worry.
It was still some time later when Isabel heard the frantic footsteps crunching earth and stone outside the house, moving hurriedly closer. In her weariness, at first she almost didn’t believe that the sound was real, but she soon snapped from her daze and dashed to the front door, flinging it open with a shout.
“COLE!?” But it was Zanriath, red faced and breathless from running, his body steaming in the cold all around.
“He’s still not back!?” Zanriath struggled between deep gulps of air.
“Oh Zan!” Isabel cried falling into her husband’s arms. “Where is he?” Zanriath’s breathing slowed gradually and he held his wife closely.
“I’ve looked everywhere. I spoke to Rosynn and she hasn’t heard from him. He left the market hours ago.” His worry was evident and Isabel choked back a sob. “He must be with someone.” Zanriath assured her, though he knew full well he had checked in on the vast majority of their neighbours and, those that had seen Cole at all, said he had left the market in the early afternoon, and they hadn’t seen him since.
They went back inside, saying no more, and sat by candlelight and waited. It was useless to search for Cole in the dark, and practically everywhere Cole could be Zanriath had checked, though he did not disclose that information to Isabel so bluntly, for fear of panicking her further.
Isabel stood and returned to her pacing while Zanriath attempted to consider their options, putting serious thought to rounding up the entire village into a search party, regardless of whether the odds would be stacked against their efforts or not.
His conflicting emotions were scrambling his usually reliable clear sense and logical reasoning. It did not take long for his emotion to win over reason, as is usually the case, and he rose to his feet purposefully.
“I’ll gather the villagers and we’ll send out search parties.” He stated as he reached for his thickest cloak, knowing it would probably be a long, cold and worrisome night.
“Oh, Cole.” Isabel said softly to herself, her voice scarcely a whisper. “Where are you?” Her pacing, and her worrying, continued.
But then, suddenly, Isabel stopped pacing and her eyes widened. Her body stiffened as her mind kicked into overdrive. Zanriath, his gaze fixed momentarily out of the window into the gloom, did not notice his wife’s shock until she called out to him, scarcely managing to utter his name in a forced whisper.
“Zan…” Isabel’s voice trailed off. He turned from his daze to see her reach for the table and miss, her legs crumpling beneath her.
“Isabel!” He yelled as he instinctively dove to catch her. She dropped to the floor like a rag doll, but Zanriath managed to reach her just in time to break her fall. He held her face to his, recognising the expression she held in an instant.
She wore the slightly glazed look that she always adopted when embarking upon a demonic endeavour of some kind, her eyes were closed and her mind was clearly elsewhere. He held her closely, knowing he could do nothing until she returned to him, wondering what in the world could have happened.
The power overwhelming Isabel was something quite extraordinary. It was unlike anything she had ever felt, and it swamped her senses within seconds. It was not the controlled and very direct surge of an attack, so many of which she had
experienced in the past that she had grown accustomed to them. Nor was it the wide-reaching search for something specific - the sort of technique she had implemented when she had searched for the boy, all those years ago.
It was, quite simply, an explosion of energy in all directions; of such wide-ranging purpose that it was perhaps easier to say that it had no purpose at all.
Usually, such a strange phenomenon would have had little effect on Isabel, if she were to have sensed it at all; such a wide dispersal of raw energy would surely have drained its source within moments. But this source, whatever or whoever it was, simply poured more and more will into their efforts, and persisted, expanding the energy further and further out across Tamarack, engulfing everything it touched.
Though it took a few minutes, eventually the vast expanses of flowing energy subsided and Isabel blinked a few times and returned her mind to the physical realm, her pulse racing. Zanriath heaved a huge sigh of relief and lifted Isabel to a chair a little closer to the fire.
Her legs were still useless and her head bobbed left and right gingerly while she regained her bearings. After a few minutes she was fully conscious again, though Zanriath was still fraught with worry.
“Isabel? Are you ok? What happened?” Her hand came to her throbbing head as she searched for her words.
“I don’t know.” She finally replied. “There was something, some kind of power. It was enormous.”
“A demon?” Zanriath asked harshly, his eyes flinty.
“I really don’t know. It wasn’t an attack. I don’t know what it was, but it completely overwhelmed me. It just kept on going like it would never tire.” That worried them both deeply. Isabel was the most powerful Demon-Slayer in history. Her will had crushed that of her own God, evaded armies, and yet, she had just sensed something with infinitely more power than she had ever known.
Instantly, they both thought of Cole, and the deep-set worry in their hearts widened into a chasm as their heads turned gravely to the window. A thousand possibilities raced through their minds as they battled to decide what to do next.
Once she had regained some of her strength, Isabel cast out a thought across Tamarack to search for the source of the immense power that had overwhelmed her. But she found nothing. There were a few specs dotted across Land, the last remaining Demon-Slayers among the population she presumed, but little else.
What in the world could have produced that much raw energy, and then simply vanish? Her heart raced. But that still wasn’t her biggest worry.
Her biggest worry stalked her relentlessly, as a lion stalks its prey, gnawing her very insides, her racing emotions burning her heart to ash.
Where was their son?
6
All around Cole the darkness was closing in like the devil. His breathing grew persistently heavier, his legs burned with searing fire, and his chest heaved as he gulped down air in thick fits. He didn’t know how long he had been running for, how far he had gone, or even where he was.
Finally he slowed - his vision blurring and his balance suffering as a swift light-headedness came over him. It took him some time to recover, doubled over and retching for air.
The air was cold in his lungs and a wind whipped harshly at his face, his sweat rapidly cooling and causing him to shiver. He dropped to his knees and the cold, damp, grassy earth beneath him saturated and dirtied his trousers.
He knelt in a vast field, more common presumably, though he could not see very far in any direction for the encroaching night. He vaguely recalled leaving Kalaris to the east, heading towards Still Waters, but it was too dark to see now, so he did not know if he had veered off course. His breath returned slowly and the stabbing pain at his chest gradually subsided. He sighed deeply and climbed grudgingly to his feet.
His anger still remained, though it was lessening somewhat as the cold seeped gleefully through his damp clothes and gnawed carelessly at his muscles and bones. He pressed on, knowing that he could not stop, for he would soon die of cold if he did, but still not knowing where he was going.
It was an unknown amount of time and an immeasurable distance later before Cole’s weariness began to get the better of him. His shoulders slumped and his legs were heavy as stone. An almost uncontrollable shivering had taken over his muscles and he could begin to feel - or more accurately not feel - that his body was no longer responding to his mind’s weakening commands.
Eventually, the dry voice of common sense in his mind mocking him, Cole stopped, realising he had been foolish to react the way he had done to something so insignificant. His emotions had gotten the better of his good judgement, and now, because of his own idiocy, this late, wet night of fall was probably going to kill him.
But then something happened. Something he had not been expecting.
Somehow Cole’s senses began to sharpen, and his mind suddenly felt rejuvenated, though his body remained cold and unresponsive. His hearing intensified and he could detect even the smallest, farthest noises, though he did not so much hear them as he became aware of them.
His vision adjusted almost instantly to the dark and he could suddenly see far off into the distance, though it was not his eyes he was using to look. It was as if his mind was reaching out and showing him the world around him. His thoughts raced to process all this new information overloading his senses. He thought he must have been hallucinating.
Suddenly his feet came alive with a heavy throbbing and he could feel the ground beneath them as if for the first time in his life. He could sense every rock and stone and pebble around him, every nook and cranny beneath him, his awareness spreading strangely through the ground itself. It extended upwards too, and he cast his still blind eyes upon the vast emptiness of space and the universe above him.
Then his strange vision focused on Still Waters, far off in the distance, and within moments it was as though he was stood next to the lonely haven. He could make out every detail of the protective stone building. His mind traced the tall stone support, the high windows and slanted roof, meeting at one end to form the spire.
Next he could see inside. He saw the guests sleeping, and the man he knew as Pike caring for them, though he had never met him. He was an old and fragile man by now, but nevertheless he still tended to those who needed him.
The watchful dragon looked down upon Cole and seemed to cast him a desperate warning, seeing the danger that lay imminently ahead in Cole’s path with panicked eyes.
But it mattered not.
Cole’s thoughts were soon outside again and skimming the surface of the perfect lake that he had heard of so many times, but had never yet laid eyes upon. He could see it clearly now, and soon knew its every detail, down even to the tiniest of disturbances upon its untouched surface.
But before he knew it, the lake was gone, and another body of water imposed itself upon the lonesome boy - the vast and greedy ocean, intimidating and vengeful.
Within an instant all he could sense vanished and his thoughts returned to him, focused on that single image of the immense, mist-covered waters.
Then there was a scream. This was not a scream of fright, or delight, or even fear. This was the horrific shriek of thousands of combined voices clambering over each other for domination, fighting for something that was so limited, so precious, that they would need a new and powerful vessel for them all to be able to claim it. And finally now, that which they had desired for so long had at last arrived.
A terrible presence crept into Cole’s awareness. This presence had no face, took no form, except for its dreadful desire to possess. That became its sole identity in Cole’s thoughts and, on nothing but the instinct of self-preservation; he recoiled from the awful sensation.
His heart raced and he flushed hot, blood surging through his veins with renewed vigour. And then the presence in Cole’s consciousness began to grope for him, reaching out, wrapping its awful being around him in its non-existent, but very real clutches.
He drew back, disgusted by the very feel of
it and, with a cry of effort, forced the strange impulse from his thoughts. Everything stopped. His weariness returned tenfold and his awareness vanished. His mind blanked and his vision blacked. The last thing Cole felt was the final remaining ounce of strength drain from his limbs.
He collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
But even in his unconscious state, despite his overwhelming exhaustion, Cole felt changed by the strange experience. He felt as though he had somehow awakened, and that the world was now laid out before him, his life and senses changed anew.
Isabel and Zanriath quickly pulled on warm clothes and cloaks to keep the cold from them in their search. There were going to find Cole, and they would not rest until they knew he was safe.
“I’ll gather the neighbours to the north.” Zanriath began as he fumbled with his boots. “You go west and we’ll rally everyone back here before we start the search.”
Isabel nodded in hasty agreement as she struggled with her own boots, her hands shaking with a combination of fear, anxiety and panic.
“Baron said earlier that he would head a search party if we needed him too…” Zanriath continued. “Ask him to come here first too…”
Finally, nodding still, Isabel managed to fasten her boots and turned with her Zanriath to the door, her heart racing. But then she stopped dead. Her alert senses, heightened by her stress, detected something beyond the wooden barrier before them, shielding them from the darkness beyond.
“Zan!” She hissed through clenched teeth. He stopped the rustling of adjusting his cloak and they stood silently, straining their ears to the night engulfing their home.
Faintly, in the distance, approaching the house, they could hear the quiet crunching of stone and dirt beneath footsteps, growing slowly more distinguishable as they drew closer. They were not the heavy footsteps of an adult.
