Our planet was like this before, he told himself nostalgically. Érvein; green, full of life. But the Times of Chaos came and Mórgomiel laid waste to our home. It was thanks to the Conjuring Arts that we managed to escape with one last patch of earth, which we now call Allündel. Oh, powerful Urolóch! If you could be here to see this paradise! The general of yesteryear was well-remembered among the elves.
The elven race had lived on a patch of earth for too long and forgotten how incredible it was to live on a planet full of infinite possibilities. Perhaps the Meridian was indeed Mórgomiel’s planet, but it was still beautiful, a testament to of Ÿ’s power to work wonders, even on what belonged to Evil.
The Meridian appeared to be everything except Mórgomiel’s central world. This did not mean there was no evil core lying dormant within it.
The city that spread out before the marching army was a military one, albeit in ruins. The city of rock towers was a relic with debris scattered everywhere and two of the four rock towers fallen. But the elves liked this view and identified themselves with the city, particularly considering that the earth of Allündel itself was a fragment of land from a destroyed planet.
The citizens of Kathanas were naturally military. Since the siege of their city more than a year before and its inevitable destruction, when the legendary Strangelus Üdessa had stopped the evil army from entering the rock towers to wreak their will, the survivors had rebuilt it and carved the events in texts of their own warrior culture. Great heroes were celebrated here, including Duke Thoragón Roam who, despite having suffered from some strange form of dementia, would be remembered with respect. There was talk of the great Balthazar, Leandro, and his companions, including the powerful Lomans who had given his life to save many. Kathanas would never forget and with those memories in mind, they had rebuilt, strengthened, and trained their people for what they felt was the start of turbulent times.
It was a few weeks since Janikur the Attacker, the leader elected to rule the ruins of Kathanas, had received word from the King of Mandrake that his city had been chosen to receive the elves. It had been Balthazar himself who had explained to him everything about the culture of the elves so that he could make preparations for their arrival. The Kathanians were not a people given to the kind of nonsense or fussiness you might find in Érliadon, for example. The Kathanians felt honored to be playing hosts to such an ancient culture, and Janikur agreed to shelter the guests.
One can learn from others, the leader of Kathanas thought. It’s through stories and experiences that we manage to pass on our wisdom to others. If beings as ancient as the elves come here, there will be a great deal we can learn.
Janikur was not in the least a coward but a man of principles, courage, and honor. But it was not those qualities that made him stand out since all Kathanians possessed them. He had been chosen because he had been the motivator who had brought the population of Kathanas out of deep depression. They had rebuilt as best they could and the project of renovating the strong walls of the city of rock towers was still underway.
He had been born in Kathanas where he had grown up and received a military education. He had served under Duke Roam and had seen him die when he had ridden to his death, brandishing that black sword he had loved so much.
The governor of Kathanas was standing on the edge of the highest rock tower, watching the metal carpet, the elf army, approaching his city. The dense mass of soldiers gleamed in the sunlight.
He turned to old Hangica Kunjaya, a warrior born in Kathanas who, thanks to her skill in the war, had earned for herself a position as the governor’s right hand.
“Let’s go and welcome them, Kunjaya.”
A group of a hundred Kathanians came down to ground level where the army of elves was eagerly waiting. Young women whispered, wondering whether the foreign soldiers would be handsome, and if so, whether they would be allowed to talk to them, entertain them, or possibly even flirt with them. Young men wondered whether there would be female elves and commented about what they thought their bodies would be like and what they would be like as people. Flirting with them would be a privilege.
Janikur raised his hand to call for silence. He was looking forward to meeting people from another world and, at the same time, was terrified about it. When the legion was a stone’s throw away, their commander gave an order in a language the Kathanians did not understand except for Janikur who, because of Balthazar, had learned the basics of the elven language and was still learning thanks to the linguist whom Gáramond had sent to learn more of it.
Jeremiah of Háztatlon was waiting anxiously with a large book in his hands. He was reading from it nervously, practicing the words Balthazar had taught him so that he could communicate with the elves.
The commander of the foreign legion walked toward them. Janikur showed his respect by walking at the same pace as the elf so that they would meet halfway. Jeremiah followed the governor, nervous about carrying out the role assigned to him by Gáramond. The study of foreign languages initiated by Gáramond and Jochopepa of Gardak had become a whole new and very well-paid profession in the Mandrake Empire and was now being carried out at the Imperial Palace. The recruits had come from all over the Empire, particularly those who had wanted to be sacristans but had not qualified in the rigorous process of admission and yet were still anxious to dedicate themselves to the profession of knowledge.
Janikur and the commander met with a firm handshake and looked hard at one another as if each were checking the identity of the other. The elf smiled and began to speak in a strange but pleasant and rhythmical language.
He bowed. “Lohrén. Allündel,” he said. Janikur understood and returned the gesture.
“Janikur the Attacker from Kathanas,” the leader of the city replied with a bow of his own. He had not been expecting to see a luminous sphere floating around the elf. The sphere seemed to be emitting a source of light which was beautiful.
“We’ve brought our translator,” said Lohrén. “His name is Nidra. He’s a Naevas Aedán, also known as a seraph.”
Janikur stared from one side to the other, unable to believe that a tiny voice in his mind had communicated this. Nidra explained. He introduced himself and this seemed to calm the leader of Kathanas.
I’ll help the linguist to learn more of the elven language, the seraph said. Jeremiah the translator was upset at having his role replaced by a luminous sphere. He had been practicing day and night, and now it was obvious that his services were not needed. But soon, this annoyance changed to one of wonder at finding himself in the presence of such incredible beings.
The elf named Lohrén was a handsome fellow, Janikur became aware. To the Kathanian’s surprise, the shape of his face, eyes, and mouth, and even his height, were very like those of humans; except, there were details like the color of the elf’s hair, the shape and color of his eyes, and the pointed ears that distinguished him from humans. He was also very pale, something rarely seen here.
Lohrén spoke, moving his hands in gestures that implied that he was referring to the people before him or the land. At the same time, a friendly smile spread across his face.
Janikur and Jeremiah listened to the words in their minds. The governor of the city of the rock towers nodded and bowed his head.
“We are honored to receive the legion of the elves. We will be delighted to share our culture, food, and bread with you. Welcome to you all!”
As the days went by, the Kathanas felt alive, vibrant, and full of energy. Women, men, elves of both sexes, all exchanged stories. It took the elves a while to open up and share freely. But it was thanks to Lohrén that the elves began to feel comfortable among the humans since he was one of the few who spoke to the women even if each did not fully understand the other’s language. Body language was unmistakable.
Lohrén was ready to break his exclusive connection with the elves and try his luck with humans. After falling for Luchy and then being rejected by her, the only solution seemed to be to try his
luck with other women. In any case, he would never love anybody else. The elf was sure he would die fighting against Mórgomiel, so who cared?
Chapter XXXII — A Procession of Seraphs
The way on to Flamonia was stormy and swift. Mojak’s injuries healed cleanly so that he was able to carry on without any ill-effects, despite their speed.
Luchy could swear she had never run so fast, while Flóregund was sweating as if there was no tomorrow, his silky blond hair stuck to his face as if a cow had licked it. The effects of the scant amount of food they ate were beginning to take their toll on them. Their hands and feet ached with the physical demands. The supply of wild boar meat was running out and the closer they came to the ruins of Flamonia, the fewer animals there were to hunt.
The moorland was impressive. Destruction was everywhere. They were running right outside the walls of Flamonia, ancient and long since plundered. Given its advanced state of decay, it was impossible to say what the city must have been like in its days of glory. But judging by the thick walls and watchtowers, it was easy to see that it had been a military center brutally beaten down, literally erased from the face of the planet.
The thing that happened to Flamonia, Luchy thought. Was it the same thing that happened to my village?
I don’t know your village, Luchy, the seraph replied. But I’m sure this place was devastated, flattened, and brutalized. There’s no trace of life here. Did something like that happen in your village?
Yes. Unfortunately,, something like it happened, except that it wasn’t destroyed as completely as this.
Luchy was able to see the spiral cloud that had never dissolved after the siege of the city. Evil lingered here.
Something howled, a dying scream that would have made a corpse tremble.
The elf’s eyes were glancing to either side, trying to work out where that dreadful voice had come from. He had never heard anything like it before.
“What on earth was that?” he asked.
It’s a wraith! Alaris replied in the minds of the three travelers.
The shriek was answered somewhere else, then somewhere else again. Clearly, there were at least five of them.
Flóregund unsheathed his sword. “What on earth is a wraith?”
Put it away, Alaris urged him. Metal weapons are useless against these beings. They’re spirits, trapped and tortured by evil. Their shadows wander through the tangible world while the other half of them wanders through the Interim. Whatever happens, it mustn’t touch you. Their touch will suck your life out in seconds and leave you irredeemably dead. Here, only Mojak can fight against them.
Listening to this explanation, Luchy paled. In a sudden fit of panic, she came as close as she could to Mojak.
The Wild Man stopped. We must confront them, he thought. There’s no escaping them. Alaris communicated this to Luchy and the elf.
The tattoo on the Wild Man’s left hand began to shape itself into a gauntlet of vivid blue energy around his forearm. When much of the force had condensed in his hand, the giant flooded his mace with it. The weapon shone that color, now full of energy.
The first wraith appeared. It had no definite morphology. Its presence deformed spacetime and it was a shadow not because it blocked the light of the sun, but because it sucked light in and did not allow it to be reflected.
The demon’s power was magnetic. It had both young people bewitched and paralyzed as if its mournful shriek were a spell. And so it was, as it was employing this paralysis that the demon fed on the souls of its victims. It did not stop at the lives of sentient creatures; the wraith was able to feed on anything that had energy.
Mojak did not wait for the wraith to come any closer. He moved nimbly towards it and with his left arm outstretched, he reached for what would be the infernal creature’s head.
Caught by that power, the wraith hesitated and then, with a silent explosion, simply ceased to exist. From one moment to the next, reality stopped being bent by the powerful demon, and the distortion in space-time returned to normal. Mojak did not stop. With a powerful leap, he dissolved the other wraiths, brandishing his mace with great speed.
They were souls that had spent centuries tortured by the spell which had bewitched them, Mojak told them through Alaris. Now they’re free and their souls will be judged by the Goddess of Night. None of them were aware that the Goddess of Night had been mutilated and that the souls of the wraiths would remain in the Interim, beyond help.
Both Luchy and Flóregund were still, their eyes brimming with tears.
The horror has barely started, my dear, he thought through Alaris. We’ll come across more horrors in the course of our mission to Tutonticám. I beg you not to become paralyzed again. It could mean death for either of you.
They did not delay but went on their way without another word. Two more battles came to block their route to their destination. It was as if evil knew they were on their way to rescue the precious Naevas Aedán who had helped Manchego, because the traps and obstacles were highly specific, intended to break the little group. On both occasions when they encountered resistance, many walking corpses attacked the elf.
Flóregund was beginning to resent the Council of Elves and Karsa in particular. She had been the one who had proposed from the beginning that he should join this mission. Maybe they chose me because I’m the best, he thought. But the best for what? I’ve never been much good at anything. I’ve been a bit mischievous, it’s true. Did they send me as a punishment? Did they know I was going to have such a hard time? That my soul would be twisted into knots from the atrocities I’ve seen?
He knew it was not true. The universe was going through the worst times in its history and he had been chosen to help Luchy to find Alac Arc Ángelo. He no longer doubted himself. I won’t let these doubts drain my energy. My team could die if I let myself get carried away by these negative thoughts. And thinking this, the elf was determined to give everything he had.
***
When Alaris’ light began to blink and change color, Luchy realized something was lurking nearby. Something was affecting the luminous being. In a matter of seconds, Luchy was aware of lingering sadness. The light given out by the Naevas Aedán confirmed it by shining purple.
We’ve arrived, Luchy. How sad I feel… If this is what Teitú felt when he came here, I understand why he left his master when he went into the Interim. I’m afraid. Afraid of feeling like Teitú and suffering the same pain as he did, and afraid that I might want to stay here with the dead and keep them company to soothe their suffering.
Luchy said nothing. She went up to the Naevas Aedán, gathered him in her hands and she stroked him. She examined the little sphere delicately and studied those tiny wings of his which felt like the leaves of a tree when they brush against the skin. The sensation was delightful, warm, pleasant, and yet she could feel the purity of Alaris’s soul. She deposited a gentle kiss on what she guessed must be his cheeks, although the sphere had neither lips nor face nor any other feature.
Alaris’s light changed again from a deep purple to a pale blue, showing that Luchy’s affectionate gesture had helped him.
Don’t be afraid, Alaris. Don’t suffer when there’s no need to. My village suffered in the same way. My parents were brutally murdered in front of my eyes, to say nothing of finding the dead bodies of my sisters. Look. Watch. I permit you to search inside my soul.
Alaris went deep into Luciella’s memories, observing the good times she had had with Manchego who miraculously had become Alac Arc Ángelo. Alaris understood her better than ever and realized that Luchy was driven by the strongest force in the universe: she was in love.
I understand, was all he said when he drew back from her mind. The girl freed him with a gentle push.
“There,” she said. She pointed to some massively wide tree trunks. It was obvious that they had been great trees at some point, perhaps as big as the Lï in Allündel, and at some point, their foliage had been as dense. She guessed that the land and the
houses of the Naevas Aedán must have been the dense foliage of several Lï joined together, thus creating colonies with the streets being formed by the branches. She wept inwardly for all the seraphs who had been destroyed during the War of One Lament that had decimated Flamonia and the Naevas Aedán.
Luchy must go with Alaris alone, Mojak thought through the Naevas Aedán. Flóregund had no objection to the idea.
Only Luchy knows Teitú and hence, only she will be able to rescue him. We will create a perimeter and make sure everything is safe. Do not take too long, Luchy, there are plenty of obstacles in this Old World.
Are you ready?
Let’s go, she thought.
At once, Alaris came very close to her and with only the slightest effort transferred them to the Interim. A greenish light filled what had previously been reality. Everything was the same, except that Mojak and Flóregund were not visible in this dimension. In the same instant she was transferred to the Interim, wide-eyed, Luchy saw a dense population of Naevas Aedán floating around several tree stumps in what seemed to be a procession in the form of a ring. It occurred to her that it was a kind of funeral and she felt sad for the seraphs when she considered they had remained in this state for at least four centuries since the beginning of their sufferings. The spirits were a faded white, almost translucent. She couldn't tell who was who; they all looked identical.
Luchy saw that Alaris’s energy was beginning to resemble that given out by the spirits and she spoke aloud.
“Alaris, I know this is difficult for you. But I need you to help me find Teitú. I won’t be able to find him by myself. I can’t tell who’s who.”
Her voice was like an echo that lasted for seconds. In the dimension of the Interim, the rules that governed what was real seemed different. She noticed that the spirits were unmoved by the sight of a human entering what had been Tutonticám. She walked among the great trunks, searching for signs of Teitú. The procession of the flying seraphs was slow and was circling round and round the trees without stopping.
Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale) Page 26
