Destroyer of Legends

by Clayton Wood

  They fell into an uncomfortable silence, making their way through the forest, each step bringing them closer to their final destination: The Kingdom of the Deep. She’d heard of the place, of course…everyone in Tykus had. Lots of rumors about it, anyway. Supposedly they were all primitives, allowing the corruption of the forest into themselves. The Kingdom of the Deep was where all of Camilla’s Seekers trained; why that was the case was beyond Sukri, but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the matter. She had to go there with Dio. If she tried to return to Tykus, she’d be killed by the Guild of Seekers.

  Without the Lady, she was as good as dead.

  “How far away is this place anyway?” Sukri groused.

  No answer.

  She sighed, giving up on questioning Dio and focusing on keeping pace with him. Minutes turned into hours, an endless parade of trees passing by as they went. Eventually Dio stopped, dropping his backpack to the ground. Sukri stopped as well, watching as Dio pulled out two wooden staves tied to the side of the pack. Her heart sank.

  “Can we at least eat first?” she pleaded.

  Dio handed her a staff, then picked up the other one, facing her. Without warning, he attacked, swinging the staff at her temple.

  Sukri rushed to block, their staves striking with a loud thwack. Dio stopped, nodding at her…and promptly swung at her temple. Again. She blocked it, and Dio followed up with a second attack, thrusting at her belly. Sukri blocked this as well; after hours of sparring every single day, she was getting better at avoiding having the absolute crap beaten out of her. Which Dio still managed to do, every single day.

  Dio stopped, nodded, then attacked again, starting with the same two attacks, then adding a third – an upward swing right between Sukri’s legs. This time, she was too slow; his staff slammed into her crotch, taking the breath right out of her. She stumbled backward, dropping her staff and falling to her butt on the forest floor.

  “Fuck!” she swore, gritting her teeth against the pain. She glared up at Dio. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He just stood there, waiting.

  “Ass,” she spat, taking a breath in, then getting to her feet. “Hitting me in the goddamn pussy.”

  “Were you planning on using it?” Dio inquired.

  “Not with you,” she retorted.

  “Again,” he ordered…and promptly attacked. Same three strikes, and this time Sukri was damn sure to block the groin strike. Dio stopped, nodding at her…and did it all over again. Each time she succeeded in blocking all of his attacks, he added another one. Each time she failed, he repeated the string of attacks. They did this until he’d done twenty in a row. Which was five nasty bruises later, not counting the one on Sukri’s crotch. As usual, Dio said next to nothing, teaching by doing…and by forcing Sukri to respond.

  When they were done, Dio took Sukri’s staff, tying it to his pack alongside his and slinging it over his shoulder. Then they continued their march through the woods.

  Sukri grimaced as she followed behind him, her crotch still throbbing, not to mention her right thigh. She glared at his back, imagining herself whipping her staff right between his legs.

  And then slitting his throat like he’d slit Gammon’s.

  She grit her teeth, ignoring the pain as she walked. There was no point in complaining, certainly not to Dio. And complaining wouldn’t do her any good anyway. What she needed to do was train every day until she was as good as Dio. Until she was better.

  And then – and only then – would she get a chance to get back at Dio and Lady Camilla. To get her revenge…and avenge Gammon.

  * * *

  Hunter and Xerxes stood before the entrance to the Shrine of the Ancestors. Beyond was a short hallway with black stone walls, floor, and ceiling, and narrow stairs that plunged into darkness below. Kip had left them minutes earlier, taking the stairs downward…and leaving them alone on the island. Hunter stood with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling more and more uneasy as the minutes passed. It wasn’t just because of Kip’s warning about the Elders potentially not allowing them to leave the kingdom; he was also utterly ignorant of the wills that might have been absorbed into the temple’s walls. Or the ground at his feet, for that matter. He had a strong will, it was true, but he was all-too-aware of the danger powerful wills posed. That was why he was here in the first place, after all…to stop Zagamar’s will from annihilating his.

  “Think he’s coming back?” Hunter asked Xerxes.

  “USE…SIGNS,” his brother admonished.

  “Coming back?” Hunter signed. Xerxes shrugged. If the big guy was nervous, he sure didn’t show it.

  Suddenly he spotted Kip ascending the stairs. The man stepped out of the entrance, stopping before them and flashing them his customary smile.

  “Come!” he urged. “The Elders want to meet you.” With that, the man went back through the entrance, taking the stairs down again. Hunter glanced at Xerxes, who followed behind Kip…or at least tried to. The ceiling was a foot too short for the huge Ironclad, and too narrow to fit his broad shoulders. Xerxes had to duck down and pull in his shoulders a bit just to fit through. Hunter followed close behind, and Xerxes glanced back at him, signing with one hand.

  “If I get stuck,” he signed, “…cut my arms off.”

  “Sure thing,” Hunter signed back with a smirk.

  The stairs descended a good twenty feet into the earth, the light from the entrance quickly fading. It became so dark that Hunter couldn’t see a thing, and he put a hand on either wall to steady himself. Eventually he spotted a dull, flickering red glow ahead, revealing the bottom of the stairs. When he reached this, he saw a long, rectangular tunnel ahead, flickering torches bolted to the walls at regular intervals. Symbols were carved into the walls, but Hunter could only make out those closest to the torches. They were crude pictorials of people engaged in various activities, such as dancing, hunting, and…other natural activities.

  “Don’t think they’re Catholics,” Hunter mused, smirking at a few of the more interesting symbols as they traveled through the tunnel. “Might learn a few things from these, eh bro?”

  “NO,” came the guttural reply.

  Hunter chuckled, and they reached the end of the tunnel, which branched left and right. Kip took them rightward down a short section of tunnel, which soon opened up into a large underground chamber. This was far better lit than the tunnels, with a huge bonfire in the center of the room and torches bolted to the walls all around the periphery of the room. The ceiling was about twenty feet high, with a gap directly above the bonfire leading to a chimney-like structure that carried the smoke up and away.

  And sitting cross-legged before the bonfire was an elderly man, his bare back facing them. His long white hair was tied back into a ponytail, adorned by two long feathers. Kip stopped at the man’s side, kneeling before him.

  “They’re here,” he notified.

  The old man got to his feet with Kip’s help, turning to face Hunter and Xerxes. He was old – at least in his eighties – but stood tall, his shoulders set back and his chest thrust out proudly. Bells on his soft tan boots and pants jingled as he moved. He was surprisingly muscular, his bare chest chiseled even if his skin hung loosely from his flesh. He raised a hand at them.

  “Greetings,” he said in a deep, surprisingly strong voice. “I am Sannup, Elder of the Temple. I have the spirit of the Ancestors within me.” He lowered his hand, nodding at Kip. “Leave us,” he requested.

  Kip bowed, then left, going back through the tunnel they’d come through. Sannup turned to face Hunter.

  “You are Hunter,” he stated. “You come from Turtle Island?”

  “I do,” Hunter confirmed.

  “Kip tells me your spirit is strong.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told,” Hunter agreed.

  “And this is…Xerxes?” Sannup inquired, turning to the Ironclad. Xerxes grunted. “Kip says he is your brother?”

  “He is,” Hunter replied. �
��He was…conceived on Turtle Island, and was born here.”

  “You have many spirits,” Sannup observed, stepping toward Xerxes and studying him. The old man put a hand on Xerxes’ chest, feeling the armor there. “Very strong,” he observed.

  “VERY,” Xerxes agreed.

  “Hmm,” Sannup murmured, stepping back from Xerxes. “Tell me…why are you here?”

  “We want to travel to the Deep,” Hunter explained. Sannup’s eyebrows rose.

  “Really?” he replied. “Why?”

  “I have…something inside of me,” Hunter confessed. “A powerful will that will destroy me if I don’t stop it.”

  Sannup frowned, eyeing Hunter for a long moment.

  “Explain,” he requested at last.

  Hunter hesitated, then did so, recapping his adventure to the Crypt of Zagamar, and the disastrous results. When he was finished, Sannup lowered his gaze, looking troubled.

  “What?” Hunter asked.

  “We call the spirit you carry ‘Hobbomock,’” he explained. “A spirit of death. He created the pukwudgie, the demons that tried to destroy the world…and that destroyed the great tribe that lived in the kingdom you now call Tykus.”

  “You know of him?” Hunter asked. “Of Zagamar?”

  “Oh yes,” Sannup confirmed. “His tale has been retold for generations. An old tale, older than your kingdom. You have every right to fear Hobbomock.”

  “Tell me about it,” Hunter muttered. “That’s why I have to travel to the Deep.”

  “We do not usually allow this,” Sannup retorted.

  “But…” Hunter began, but the old man raised a hand for silence.

  “But in your case,” Sannup continued, “…I will make an exception. If Hobbomock’s flesh is within you, his spirit cannot be allowed to grow. The Deep will stop him…or you will die in the attempt. Either way, Hobbomock will be stopped.”

  “Cheery thought,” Hunter grumbled.

  “To have Hobbomock conquer you is death,” Sannup countered. “We Elders sacrifice much of our spirits to those of our ancestors, but this is our choice. It should not be forced.”

  “So I can go to the Deep?” Hunter asked. Sannup nodded.

  “You have my permission.”

  “Great,” Hunter replied. “We should get going then,” he added, nodding at Xerxes. But Sannup shook his head.

  “Not yet,” he countered.

  “What?”

  “Before you do,” Sannup stated, “…you must learn.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What do you know about the Deep?” Sannup inquired.

  “It locks in traits,” Hunter answered. “Makes it so you can’t be changed anymore.”

  Sannup frowned, considering this for a moment. Then he stepped forward until he was standing a foot from Hunter, and placed one wrinkled hand on Hunter’s shoulder. He closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them, stepping back.

  “You have others’ memories,” he deduced. Hunter hesitated, then nodded.

  “I do,” he agreed. But surprisingly, despite Sannup’s touch, he hadn’t received any visions from him. Which meant that Sannup didn’t radiate memories…and therefore had to be able to absorb them. A rare trait…one that only Hunter and Xerxes possessed. Or so they’d thought. “You do as well,” he guessed.

  “Yes,” Sannup admitted. “Not as well as you. From you I sense nothing.” He smiled. You have a rare gift, Hunter. It is…very special to us in the Kingdom of the Deep.”

  “Why is that?”

  Sannup sighed, glancing back at the crackling bonfire behind him.

  “On Turtle Island, everything has a spirit,” he explained. “The trees, animals, humans…everything that crawls or flies, burrows or gallops. But only one type of spirit can live in a person.” He turned back to face them. “A man can have the spirit of a woman, and a woman that of a man. A lucky few are even born with two spirits, a man and a woman in one. But these are always human spirits, always of the same animal type.”

  Hunter nodded, saying nothing.

  “So, on Turtle Island,” the Elder continued, “…we can revere the spirit of a wolf, or the thunder bird, or the snake. But we can never know what it is like to be them. We can never truly understand them. So our wisdom is limited.”

  “Makes sense,” Hunter replied.

  “Here,” Sannup continued, raising his arms to either side, “…one spirit can be in many bodies, and many spirits can be in one body. We can take in the spirit of the wolf, and see as they see. Feel as they feel. We can understand them, see them as one of us. That wisdom is sacred, and it is why most of us take in the spirit of others.”

  “But you’re…”

  “Human, yes,” Sannup agreed. “I have taken in the spirit of my ancestors, the humans from Turtle Island. Their bones live here, in this temple, and give us their spirits. Kip has done the same…the human spirit is what we have chosen. That is our great sacrifice, to never know the spirit of other creatures.”

  “You want to be like an animal?” Hunter inquired. Sannup smiled.

  “Of course,” he replied. “One cannot treat their fellow creatures with contempt if they allow wild spirits into themselves. Everything has a spirit, and to become one with the world, one must allow the world into oneself.”

  “Ok,” Hunter conceded. “But you worship the Deep, right?”

  “We revere it, yes.”

  “But the Deep locks traits in,” he pointed out. “It prevents things from absorbing traits…spirits. Why revere it if it stops you from being able to do that?”

  Sannup chuckled, shaking his head.

  “The Deep is the Creator,” he explained. “It does not lock in traits, as you say. It combines the spirits and flesh of creatures, making them one spirit. One flesh. It creates new spirits.”

  “But my mother,” Hunter protested. “She went to the Deep and locked in her traits.” He explained what had happened to his mother, how she’d been transformed into an Ironclad, her traits locked in forever. Sannup shook his head.

  “Her traits were not locked in,” he countered gently. “She was what you call a Legend, the strongest of the spirits, and the most selfish. Such spirits refuse to take in other spirits, yet seek to destroy all other spirits they come in contact with. When she combined with the beetle, her spirit and the beetle’s spirit became one spirit…one that, as she is a Legend, cannot be changed.”

  “So if she hadn’t been a Legend?”

  “Then she would have been able to be changed,” Sannup concluded.

  Hunter stared at the man, feeling his heart sink.

  “So it won’t work,” he realized. “Even if I go to the Deep, I won’t be able to stop Zagamar.”

  “Incorrect,” Sannup countered. “Hobbomock’s spirit will fuse with yours in its current state, and his spirit will no longer be able to destroy yours. But you will still be able to take in new spirits.”

  “But if Zagamar’s spirit is Legendary,” Hunter retorted, “…won’t I become a Legend?”

  “No,” Sannup answered. “His spirit is small within you. You will retain the strength of your own spirit.”

  “All right, we better get going then,” Hunter decided.

  “Tomorrow,” Sannup stated. “You may leave tomorrow. Today I request that you study the five Temples in our kingdom.”

  “The what?”

  “The great black towers you see,” Sannup clarified. “They mark the locations of the five Temples. Each is home to the spirits of different creatures. The insects, the birds, the reptiles, the mammals, and the fish…and throughout our kingdom, the plants.”

  “Ah.”

  “You are still human,” Sannup continued. “Before you go to the Deep, consider taking the spirit of a wild thing within you. You have the rarest gift, to experience a creature’s memories. You should not waste it.”

  “Okay,” Hunter agreed. It was the only way he was going to get this guy to let him go to the Deep, after all
…and it was just one more day. “Let’s go, Xerxes,” he added.

  “No,” Sannup retorted.

  “Pardon?”

  “He does not go.”

  “Why not?”

  “He has already accepted an animal spirit,” the Elder explained. “You have not.”

  “Okay…”

  “Go to each of the temples,” Sannup requested. “Learn of the world around you. And if you choose, take an animal spirit into yourself so that you might gain its wisdom and its strength.”

  Chapter 5

  The creature moved over the fallen leaves and branches of the forest floor, blending in with the trees and bushes around it. For although it had been an animal once, it now resembled a walking bush itself, twigs and leaves sprouting from its four bark-covered limbs. It moved slowly, its wooden joints creaking with every step.

  It vaguely remembered what it had been years ago, before curling up and falling asleep near a copse of unusually large trees. Before it’d woken up to find itself transformed.

  A cool breeze rustled the leaves protruding from its back and limbs, a few of the leaves falling off their stems and floating away. Many of them had turned red and brown, a sign of the winter to come. It would be the creature’s third winter in its current state. Soon its limbs would stiffen further, its root-like feet plunging into the earth. Its mind would begin to slow, then wander off into a dreamlike state. A sort of sleep that would continue until the arrival of Spring, when it would become alive once again.

  The breeze brought a strange scent to its nostrils. Something the creature had never smelled before.

  It paused, staying perfectly still, knowing that any would-be predator would ignore it. They always did, assuming it was just another bush. It heard the crunch, crunch of footsteps approaching from ahead and to the right, and stared off into the forest, not even blinking.