“Yes, yes,” interrupted Maestra Onsia Helmina of the Escolia Arcana. “Obviously you have stumbled across something important enough to summon all five of us from our duties. Tell us.”
“You must forgive the Maestra for her characteristic mordacious tone, Consejal Pejeno,” Betina du Zabala of the Gremio Poetica said, smiling oddly. “She would be more eloquent, but is, no doubt, as curious as the rest of us as to the nature of your call.”
“Of course, Excellencies, of course.” Consejal Pejeno stared at his hands briefly and stated simply, “We have found a portal to Hinirang’s heaven.”
“What?” Madre Gorospe suddenly felt the weight of her years upon her body, and stifled a yearning to scream in horror. She closed her eyes but saw only blood and tears.
“It is of great interest to the mother Church, naturally,” Consejal Pejeno began.
“It is of great interest to us all, Consejal.” The Guvernador-Henerale rose from his seat and gently touched the arm of Madre Gorospe, who, eyes shut tight, was shaking noticeably. She opened her teary eyes and nodded her thanks. “Where is this portal?”
“Beneath the Plaza Empyral, Your Excellency,” Consejal Pejeno replied.
“Imagine that,” Betina du Zabala spoke to no one in particular. “Is it open?” she asked Consejal Pejeno.
“Yes.”
“Who opened it?” asked Maestra Helmina. “Or was it open already?”
“One of my own, a young student, opened the door,” the Consejal admitted.
“And?” Betina du Zabala asked softly.
“And he vanished,” the Consejal replied.
“What makes you so certain that it is a gateway to the Hinirang faithlands?” Madre Gorospe asked.
“Our instruments recorded the presence of the Ether,” the Consejal sat back wearily. “As you all know, that signifies the presence of faithlands, as proven by our apparatus at the conquest of Nueva Mundo, when we—”
“No one here doubts the veracity of your report, nor the integrity of the instruments guided by your scientific principles, dear Ser,” the Guvernador-Henerale said. “So there is a door. An open door. You were correct to call us all. We must decide our cause of action immediately.”
“Then we vote,” Betina du Zabala said firmly.
“Yes. Yes, we do,” agreed Madre Gorospe, shaking her head sadly, for she knew what position she had to take.
“Very well. As is our custom, I will ask each of you to formally state your decision,” Consejal Pejeno said. “I will begin.”
“I, Lucio Pejeno, Consejal Temporal, speak for the Concilio Ciencia,” the heavy-set man said. “I say shut the door. Science has no interest in the indio faithland. We were the ones who discovered and opened the door. We will shut it as well.”
He gestured to the others. “Who speaks for the Poetics?”
“I, Betina du Zabala, Most Excellent Primo Orador, speak for the Gremio Poetica,” the fiercely beautiful woman spoke, her mellifluous voice perfectly pitched and resonant. “I say enter the door. We can navigate what is beyond and find the source of their tales—mostly primitive and pathetic folkloric drivel, from what little we have heard since my office arrived in these humid islands last year. And we take it in the name of Ispancia. Thereafter, only our narratives will exist in this misbegotten land.”
“Who speaks for the Arcane?”
“I, Onsia Helmina, Maestra Honoria, speak for both schools,” the silver-haired woman said, considering her next words carefully. “I say enter the door. But only to study, always only to study. We must preserve what the indios have, and learn to share in their culture. What we learn we can use to improve upon what we already know.”
“Who speaks for the Spiritual?”
“I, Madre Gorospe, Faithful of the Tres Hermanas, speak for the Mother Church in Hinirang,” the old cleric responded, her words heavy with sorrow. “I say enter the door. Destroy the pagan faithlands.”
“Who speaks for the Secular?”
“I, Alejandro Virata, Guvernador-Henerale of Hinirang, speak for the Government,” the dark-haired man spoke quietly. “I say shut the door. But if it means entering it to close it, then I recommend that as well. We will protect the interests of our citizenry. Having an open doorway in the midst of our Ciudad is unacceptable. It must be shut.”
Lakangiting Lopez, Selma Dornilla, Ponciano Abadilla, Reconstructing History Vol. 5: the Unpublished Letters of Amado Pejeno (Hinirang University Press, 1995), 78-84
11. Alonto grossly exaggerates and misuses the term “massacre.” Though over a hundred people are believed to have perished, this is nothing compared to the infamous Tsino Massacre of 1603 (also known as the Sangley Uprising or Three Mandarins Massacre), where, fearing the growing Tsino population, the Ispancialo soldiers under the command of Governor-General Pedro Bravo de Acuña slew over twenty thousand.
12. The hundred-man expeditionary force, led by the juniors of the audienca royal, entered the Door and found themselves covered from head to toe in thick Ether.
“Keep your formation,” Ser Humberto Carlos Pietrado y Villareal shouted in the dimness.
An eerie silence permeated the surroundings, after the men shouted their assent.
“Be wary,” Sister Veronica T’gubilin of the Katedral Grandu whispered to Maestro Cinco Almario of the Escolia du Arcana Menor.
“Believe me, I have my wards at ready, Sister,” the young man replied with a shiver in his voice.
“Pejeno!” Ser Humberto spoke sharply. “Is there anything your ciencia can tell us? My men need something to attack!”
“Patience, please, Ser,” Jovito Pejeno mumbled, his sweaty hands tinkering with instrumentation he could barely see, inwardly cursing the head of the Concilio Ciencia, his very uncle, who assigned him to accompany the expeditionary force. “These delicate things take some time and I cannot—”
“Do you see that? That light,” Esperanza du Zabala, the Most Excellent Segundo Orador, said softly, pointing at a reddish glow in the distance.
“It is a man,” Sister Veronica said, squinting her eyes. “We should—”
A shout like thunder resounded through the Ether, and the Heroes of Hinirang stood revealed.
The voice belonged to Banna of the Calingga, handsome and radiant on a floating cloud that flashed crimson. On his right arm he brandished Diwaton, the axe that followed his every command.
On Banna’s right stood the demi-god Labaw Donggon of the Bisayas, holding high the crystal sphere that enabled him supernatural sight.
On Banna’s left was the mighty Lam-ang of the Iluko, his chest covered with powerful amulets, holding a great spear. Around him swirled powerful winds, ready to obey his words, disrupting the Ether.
More heroes were revealed, as the Ether dissipated.
There stood Prince Bantugan of the unconquered Maranao, accompanied by his spirit daimon Magaw, his powerful hands restraining a fearsome crocodile whose loyalty he’d won.
There, the resplendent Suban-on hero, Sandayo, his fingers shiny with rings—each of which contained a person he’d previously pressed into it.
There, Kundaman of Palaoan, his slender build belying his potent magic.
There, Tanagyaw of the Agyu, raising his golden cane.
There, Tulalang, the Dragon Slayer, with his black shield.
There, Tuwaang of the Manuvu, lightning crackling at his fingertips, the center of his forehead as bright as a star.
The Ispancialo expeditionary force stood stunned.
“Take them, my brothers!” Banna shouted, releasing Diwaton from his grip.
It was the last thing Jovito Pejeno saw, as it split him in half before attacking the soldiers.
“Attack!” Ser Humberto Carlos Pietrado y Villareal commanded his men, shaking them out their stupor.
As the heroes closed in, chaos ensued, Ispancialo steel meeting Katao metal.
Maestro Cinco Almario of the Escolia du Arcana Menor watched in shock, as Labaw Donggon moved toward him. He
fought to recall his most powerful wards, running the arcane syllables over and over in his mind before he spoke them, fearful of the untoward results an untimely catachresis could produce. A glimmering blue sphere enveloped him, and he sighed in relief when Labaw Donggon stopped at its periphery.
“You cannot harm me! Leave! Leave!” Maestro Cinco half shouted, half pleaded. “This is the finest arcana!”
Labaw Donggon just shook his head and smiled, raising the brilliance to his eyes. “I see it broken, this little shield of yours.”
Maestro Cinco’s death cry resounded, as his arcane sphere collapsed around him, shredding his body into many pieces.
When the heroes ran towards the expeditionary force, Sister Veronica began to pray, filling her spirit with the power of her faith, imploring the Tres Hermanas to grant her the power to swat aside the pagans. But the Tres Hermanas were deaf to her pleas, though her life was somewhat spared. She screamed, from her confines in one of Sandayo’s many rings.
“You’re mine now,” Sandayo calmly informed her, as he dispatched a soldier.
It was Esperanza du Zabala, the Most Excellent Segundo Orador, who kept her wits about her, launching into a staccato recitation that created a field of powerful words around her immediate area. As the invisible words engulfed them, Tulalang, Tanagyaw, and Tuwaang fought against a sudden hebetude that threatened to swallow them in the throes of dull ennui.
Struggling to maintain her control, Esperanza tried see where Ser Humberto was, to tell him that this was madness, that they were, yes, even she was ill-prepared, and that a retreat was a better option, if not the only option.
But Ser Humberto was busy fighting for his life. With a group of men that grew smaller and smaller with every moment, he faced Kundaman and Prince Bantugan.
“Stand your ground, men!” he shouted, forcing his way to Prince Bantugan. But before he could close in on the handsome man, Prince Bantugan gestured sharply to his side. The giant crocodile snapped its jaws and devoured Ser Humberto whole.
Seeing this, Esperanza began to run back toward the Door, still articulating words to keep the heroes around her weakened.
“I’m sorry, brothers, but I grow sleepy,” Tulalang said to Tanagyaw and Tuwaang with a yawn. Tanagyaw growled and Tuwaang shouted, as they fought the wearisome effects.
“But not to worry,” Tulalang mumbled, as he closed his eyes. “My shield will fight for me…”
Tulalang’s black shield flew from his arm and chased after the fleeing Esperanza. When the door was almost within her reach, Esperanza turned around to take one last look at the terrible attack the expeditionary force had suffered, and fell backward into the open Door, knocked senseless, when Tulalang’s black shield slammed into her.
(Esperanza du Zabala’s account of the event ends here. She, and four soldiers who had managed to escape in the early parts of the assault, were the only survivors.)
Langgit Sikat, Reimagining Esperanza: History as Creative Non-Fiction, trans. Amir al-Raban Lane (MSU, 1975), 146-150
13. See the Hinirang Folk Literature Series, compiled and edited by Damian Eusebio (Hinirang University Press, 1982) for examples. Of particular interest are the materials found in Vol. VIII, The Epics.
14. Rowan Go, ed., Word of Mouth: the Transmission of Heroic Tales (Boston: Houghton Mifflin), 1998
15. Leonardo Villavicencio, Ispaniola: Strategies of Governance (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 42
16. Bienvenido Rafanan, “Troubled Waters: The Influence of the Tale,” in Crispin Reyes, ed., Hinirang: a Colonial History (Georgetown: Blackwell, 2003), 265-271
17. José Protasio Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda, founder of La Liga Hinirang and a rallying figure for government reform was executed, which triggered the Hinirang Revolution spearheaded by Andres Bonifacio y du Castro and Emilio Aguinaldo y Famy, founders of “KATAO”, better known as “The Brotherhood”.
18. The short-lived Republic was interrupted by the Ispancialo-Americano War.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dean Francis Alfar is a Filipino playwright and fictionist whose works have been staged or published in various venues in his native country as well as abroad. His short stories have appeared in Strange Horizons, The Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror, Rabid Transit: Menagerie, The Apex Book of World SF and the Exotic Gothic series, among others. He is the author of the novel Salamanca and the collection The Kite of Stars and Other Stories. An advocate of the literature of the imagination, he is the publisher of the Philippine Speculative Fiction anthologies, an annual showcasing Filipino fictionists that he began in 2005. He is the recipient of multiple Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature, as well as the Manila Critics Circle National Book Award, Philippines Free Press Award and Gintong Aklat Award.
He lives in Manila with his wife, Nikki, and their two daughters, Sage and Rowan.
How to Traverse Terra Incognita is his second collection of short fiction.
OTHER BOOKS FROM DEAN FRANCIS ALFAR
Philippine Speculative Fiction 1
eISBN 978-971-9951-00-1
Philippine Speculative Fiction 2
eISBN 978-971-9951-01-8
Philippine Speculative Fiction 3
eISBN 978-971-9951-02-5
Philippine Speculative Fiction 4
eISBN 978-971-9951-03-2
Philippine Speculative Fiction 5
eISBN 978-971-9951-21-6
Philippine Speculative Fiction 6
eISBN 978-971-9951-22-3
Philippine Speculative Fiction 7
eISBN 978-971-9951-23-0
Copyright © Dean Francis Alfar 2012
Cover art by Lester Banzuelo
Cover design by Adam David
ePub design and production by Flipside team
eISBN 978-971-9951-12-4
This e-book edition published 2012
by Flipside Publishing Services, Inc.
Quezon City, Philippines
flipside.ph
PUBLICATION NOTES
“Simon’s Replica” first appeared in Philippines Free Press, May 2010.
“Fallow’s Flight” first appeared in A Time for Dragons, edited by Vin Simbulan, Anvil 2008.
“In the City of a Thousand Gods” is original to this collection.
“Strange Weather” first appeared in The Farthest Shore, edited by Joseph Nacino & Dean Francis Alfar, 2009.
“Ghosts of Wan Chai” first appeared in Connecting Flights, edited by Ruel de Vera, Anvil 2009.
“Securing Doors from Fathers” first appeared in Isolation Remembers What Repetition Forgets, edited by Luis Katigbak.
“Survey of Artifacts Found in The Malaya” first appeared in Philippines Free Press, November 2008, and subsequently in Diaspora Ad Astra, edited by Joseph Nacino and Emil Flores, Estranghero Press 2012.
“Packing for the Moon” first appeared in Philippines Free Press, June 2011.
“Bruhita” first appeared in Exotic Gothic 3, edited by Danel Olson, Ash-Tree Press 2009.
“Poor, Poor Luisa” is original to this collection and won a Don Carlos Palanca Award for Literature in 2007.
“Azamgal” first appeared in Sands & Coral, edited by Ian Rosales Casocot, 2012, and subsequently in Bewildering Stories, February 2012.
“Escape” first appeared in Philippine Genre Stories, August 2011.
“East of the Sun” first appeared in Philippine Speculative Fiction Vol.7, Kestrel 2012.
“Ever, After” first appeared in Philippines Free Press, August 2007.
“Messiah” first appeared in Dark Blue Southern Seas, edited by Fred Jordan Carnice, 2009.
“The Many Loves of Ramil Alonzo” first appeared in Philippines Free Press, August 2008.
“Remembrance” first appeared in Exotic Gothic 2, edited by Danel Olson, Ash-Tree Press 2008, and was a 2010 Fully Booked Graphic/Fiction Awards prizewinner.
“The Face” first appeared in Philippines Free Press, December 2011.
“Sunboy�
� first appeared in Philippines Free Press, May 2008.
“The Fortune-teller’s Beautiful Daughter” first appeared in Philippines Graphic, July 2011.
“An excerpt from A Door Opens: the Beginning of the Fall of the Ispancialo-in-Hinirang (Emprensa Press: 2007) by Salahuddin Alonto, annotated by Omar Jamad Maududi, MLS, HOL, JMS” first appeared in Alternative Alamat, edited by Paolo Chikiamco, Rocket Kapre Press 2011.
How to Traverse Terra Incognita Page 17
