“Your words make sense,” Slane said softly. “Where is the boy now?”
Odrin put his head down in shame. “He escaped, out into the wastes.”
“Escaped? But you said there were almost a dozen of you here. How could a child get away from so many Magi?”
“There was a traitor among us,” Odrin hissed. “A Magus named Aertos. I am not sure as to what his reasons were, but he took the boy with him. Perhaps he wanted the vitae all to himself, or he may have developed a fondness for the child. I dispatched my two youngest Magi to go after them and bring the boy back, but none have returned.”
Slane nodded. “How long ago was this?”
“Almost two moons,” Odrin said. “After the first moon, I instructed my best seeker to find their trail. His orders were to either bring back the boy, or his remains.”
“Why did you not dispatch your seeker first instead of two fools?”
“I underestimated Aertos,” Odrin said wistfully. “I thought his two friends would be enough to bring him back or maybe kill him, but it seems they have become lost as well. The seeker will succeed though. He is the best warrior among all of us. He will find the boy, of that I am sure.”
“I do not share your confidence,” Slane said. “For it seems that I will have to travel the wastes to make sure that the Grand Magus’s orders are to be carried out. It has been a long time since I have been to the Great Silt Sea. Perhaps this will be a memorable journey.”
“The citadel is at your disposal, Lord,” Odrin said while gesturing at the map on the table. “I have a smaller copy of this chart in my private chambers, and we still have some supplies to equip you and your men. Let me know what you need, and I will make sure to provide it for you.”
“What I need,” Slane said, “is for you and your men to die.”
Odrin knew the game was up. He turned and looked at the dagger on the table while holding up his palm. The dagger lifted itself into the air as it headed towards him, hilt first. But just before it got near his outstretched hand, the dagger suddenly flew higher up, turned until its point faced him and instantly flew downwards, heading towards the top of his own head. The old man cried out in terror as he fell on the floor. His body lay sideways as he looked up and used all of his Vis to try and stop the dagger from striking him. The blade hovered just beyond his reach while it darted back and forth, as if an invisible hand was wielding it, trying to force its way through his mindforce and into his quivering body.
Slane was laughing maniacally while the canis made loud barking noises. His own right hand was gesturing as he used his powerful Vis to keep the dagger in the air, just beyond the reach of the struggling administrator. He would aim the point of the dagger right at the old man and send it towards him at a terrific velocity, only to hold it back at the last minute before choosing another angle of attack. Then he would attempt to fling it at the old man using another approach, only to once again pull it back just before it stabbed him.
Odrin had had enough. He used his hands to shield his face as he started screaming. “Stop! Stop it! I beg you!”
Slane continued to chuckle as the dagger flew near him and hovered over his hand. He took the blade and examined it. “My, my. Very fine workmanship. This is no doubt an artifact from a bygone time. If I am not mistaken, this dagger was probably made during the Rylth Empire, right before the last age of the Gorgons. If that is accurate, then this very weapon is thousands of cycles old.”
Odrin was weeping. “Yes, y-you are right! Please, have mercy on me!”
Slane pondered on the weapon for a bit before continuing. “But, if it is over several thousand cycles old, then it surely cannot be steel nor iron, for those kinds of metals rusts away into nothing but red dust. Tell me, what kind of metal is this blade made out of?”
Odrin gritted his teeth. He was on his knees. “It is bronze! The weapon is made of bronze!”
Slane nodded. “Ah, but of course. Bronze. A kind of metal that does not rust. Though, I have heard that bronze deteriorates as well. I think it is called the green sickness, yes? Tell me, how did you preserve this weapon against such a rot?”
Odrin wiped away his tears with his tunic sleeve. “T-there is a special salve in my chambers. Rub the metal with it once every cycle a-and it will prevent the green rot.”
Slane placed the dagger on the side of the table. “Good to know. I shall ask you a few more questions and this time I want the truth. No more lies, or this blade will once again take to the air and come down upon you.”
Odrin let out a deep breath. It was all over for him unless he could somehow make himself useful. “Yes. I shall answer with the truth as to whatever query you make.”
Slane bent down and pored over the map. “What do you know of the tribes in these wastelands?”
“Our last patrol was many, many cycles ago,” Odrin said. “At that time there were only three tribes still living in the entire area that we cataloged. They were the Nartos, Arum Navar and the Silids. Of those, the Arum Navar were the most numerous. The Silids were down to only a few families left. The final six patrols had reported that no more male children had been born with the gift of Vis, so they were unable to recruit anyone. Perhaps the tribes had finally bred them out.”
Slane’s crimson eyes made a quick glance at the old man. “No more Magi perhaps, but what about Strigas?”
Odrin nodded. “There were Strigas, yes. They mostly served as guardians of their respective tribes.”
Slane rubbed his chin as he continued to ponder the map. A Striga was a dangerous opponent for a Magus. While the Magi could use their Vis to move things with their minds, Strigas could delve into the thoughts of others, and use their mental powers to anticipate and defend against incoming attacks. His men needed to stay vigilant and focus on their thought defenses, lest any Striga overcome them. Of course, this was under the assumption the child had somehow found sanctuary among the tribes. “Are there any dangerous beasts I should be aware of out in the wastes?”
“Fifty cycles ago, the patrols always encountered large sand dargons,” Odrin said. “But the final ten expeditions barely chanced upon any animal worth mentioning in their reports.”
The executor looked up at the waning shafts of light coming from the windows. The Grand Magus was right. The land was in its final death throes. Within a few more generations, the whole world would be nothing but dust and rock. Mankind and all their ways would soon pass into the oblivion that awaited them. A part of him pondered as to why all this was even needed, when everything was at the edge of annihilation, anyway?
Slane smiled to himself. At least it would give him something to do. It was better than to just waste away like this pathetic old man. He twisted his neck and stared at the administrator. “When you ingested the boy’s essence, how did it feel?”
Odrin looked back at him. “It was like a part of my youth had been restored. I felt young again.”
Slane strode back over beside his canis and faced the old man. “I heard … stories. About these children. The tales that were told about them said they had …the power to bring the dead back to life. Have you witnessed such a feat?”
Odrin shook his head. “No, no. All I have seen was that the child could revitalize us, extend our lives.”
Slane had a blank look on his face. “Do you know why the Grand Magus had decreed the deaths of these children?”
Odrin thought about it for a minute, trying to recall if there had been any reasons that were spelled out in both the correspondence and in the archives. “It was never stated as far as I know.”
“Let me tell you a story,” Slane said. “It happened two cycles ago. My men and I journeyed to the citadel at Tioch, thousands of leagues from here. We found that the entire fortress was but a ruin. Only one Magus was left, and he had one of these children with him. I dispatched the traitor rather easily, but the child was a very strange creature. A little girl, not more than twelve cycles of age, I believe. She didn’t fight back when I
drove my sword into her gut, but she did scream. Do you know what happened afterwards?”
Odrin shook his head and said nothing.
Slane gave a faint smile. “We were about to depart when a strange thing occurred. The child rose up from where I had gutted her and just stood there before us. We were all quite astonished. The girl had somehow survived a killing blow and not only that, she seemed to be none the worse off. I must tell you that a sense of panic swept over my group, we thought that we encountered some sort of god. One of my men, by the name of Baradine, came forward and cleaved her nearly in two with his axe. We all stood around her body while keeping vigil over it, just in case it attempted to rise from the dead once more. Do you know what happened then?”
Odrin’s lips trembled, but he still didn’t answer.
“The child suddenly opened her eyes once more,” Slane said. “We soon realized that we had to resort to drastic measures. In the end, we used fire to incinerate her body and we scattered her ashes along the barren plain. It was a harrowing experience and it got me to think about what my task was and what it meant to be a Magus. If the world is about to die, then what did these children signify?”
Odrin’s eyes were wide open. “I-I … do not know.”
“My curiosity then got the better of me,” Slane said. “I went over to where the body of that last Magus lay and I tore through his clothes. Do you know what I found?”
Odrin started holding his breath. He thought it only happened to him. “His … loins?”
Slane chuckled. “Yes! The dead man’s loins had been intact. It had somehow grown back again! It was then that I realized that the child might have had something to do with it. At that very moment I understood why the Grand Magus had decreed to kill all of these children, for he knew what they were capable of! Imagine an endless sea of undying Magi, why it would threaten the order to its very core. That is why he could not allow the children to live.”
At that moment, a tall, bald headed man walked into the room. He stood at almost eight feet in height, his red beard was like copper wires as they dangled down his chin. He wore a sort of armor made out of overlapping metal and leather scales, the ancients called it a coat of plates. Odrin could see the handle of a large axe strapped to his back. The man was carrying what looked like a bundle of hairy balls in a leathery net.
Slane turned to look at the man as he moved in closer. “Baradine, welcome to the citadel’s main chamber! Show the administrator that your task has been done, please.”
Baradine threw the net and it landed with a squishing noise in front of the old man. Odrin looked closer, then suddenly recoiled in horror. The mesh was full of bloody heads. All of the other Magi in the citadel had been killed. Odrin writhed on the floor as he clutched at his chest. His heart felt leaden and he was gasping for air.
Slane laughed as he brought his right hand up. Odrin shrieked when he was suddenly suspended up in the air once more. Slane’s eyes twinkled while the old man’s tunic was ripped away from his body. Using his mindforce, Slane tore away Odrin’s loincloth, revealing a small, vestigial set of male genitalia. So it was true, the blood of the children could somehow regenerate that which had been stripped away from them.
Odrin screamed as he continued to dangle in the air, just a few feet off the ground. “No, please! Have mercy on me! Mercy!”
“Let me tell you another story,” Slane said as he gestured at the old man to stay quiet. “Yours is actually the first inhabited citadel that we’ve chanced upon for many cycles. With the exception of our temple in the last city, the once great Order of Magi is no more. We are the last of us. The Grand Magus is a decrepit old man, one prone to delusions. He still believes that he somehow rules over a vast empire of citadels, with thousands upon thousands of Magi who follow his commands. What an old fool he is! As per my own calculations, I have reached the end of my task and with this final execution of your men in this, the final outpost, then we can say that we shall soon be all part of the dust. Since my mission is at an end, I am now free to indulge myself, and I have plans to be even greater than the Grand Magus ever was.”
Odrin had become hysterical. He flailed his arms and legs in the air, but his body kept on spinning, like one of the motes of dust floating in the air. “If we are the remaining ones, then spare me, please!”
Slane’s face was a mask of stone. “You know, many Magi worship Vis, the god of the mind. I worship death. He is the most powerful of the gods, more powerful than that god in the wastes which those barbarians ascribe to, at least. For all things ultimately come to death. In the end, there is no escaping him. Death claims all.”
Odrin cried out as he was suddenly thrust into the stone floor, head first. The top of his head gave a loud thud as he landed with such force that it crushed his skull. Slane snapped his fingers as the canis ran forward and began tearing the old man’s body apart using its jaws. Slane loved his pet, and he always made sure the beast was well fed.
Baradine turned and looked at his superior. “We have secured supplies for the journey across the wastes. What is your command, Lord Slane?”
“Let us rest a little first,” Slane said as he walked over to the map and pointed to a few symbols that were marked with ink. “This administrator dispatched a seeker to track the boy. If he does not return in a few days, then we shall venture out there ourselves. In the meantime, this citadel has quite an extensive archive. I have much to read.”
Chapter 7
“Elder Neris had lived a long, fruitful life,” Devos said. Almost the entire tribe had gathered in front of him. “She was an accomplished farmer, a master in the art of growing shrooms in our fungi garden. Along with her two daughters, she worked tirelessly to feed her people for over fifty cycles. Once she was too old to farm, she still continued to visit the gardens every single day without fail, to offer sound advice on how to grow shrooms and encouragement to any who were present with her. Neris never asked for special favors, and she always considered the good of the tribe ahead of any of her own goals. She was never selfish, always willing to share what little she had to those that needed it. Her skills and experience will be missed, as well as her cheerfulness and love.”
Miri stood near the center of the crowd while the teller spoke. Devos was standing beside a flat slab of rock with the old woman’s body lying in its center. As per the custom, Neris’s innards had already been carefully removed and strewn about in the underground garden that she was so devoted to. Right behind the rock slab was an entrance to a subterranean cave. The underground cavern beneath was extensive, with many nooks and tunnels. Inside the cave were gardens of glowing phosphorescent mushrooms. These organisms were one of the primary food sources for the entire tribe. Along with the green algae, the shrooms provided much needed sustenance, but they needed waste material in order to grow. Consequently, the caverns also served as the tribe’s burial grounds.
Devis continued. “So, let us not be saddened by her passing. For Neris shall not be forgotten, for her memory will live on with her children, and then with her grandchildren. The god of the wastes reclaims one of his own, just as he brought her forth when she was born. Neris rejoins her late husband Sor, and now they are together at last, and in peace.”
Two bearers who stood by carefully placed the old woman’s body in a leather stretcher and then carried it into the mouth of the cave. Within minutes, the two men disappeared as they hoisted the corpse into the cavern.
“It is now done,” Devos said. “Neris’s final gift to her children and to her people will be to nourish the farm that she had been so devoted to. While her essence is now in those other lands, the realm of the gods, her body returns to the people. Amen.”
The crowd began to disperse. Rion had been standing beside Miri as he glanced at the people around him. The boy noticed Nyx whispering to her brother Jinn, before they separated and went off into different directions. Krag had not been present at the funeral oration, for he had been keeping watch at the outskirts of t
he settlement. Elder Zedne was also not there, she was back in her hut, taking care of a sick child. The other children soon started running off in different directions, trying to forget their sadness with play.
Miri placed a reassuring hand on the boy’s bare shoulder. “Are you alright?”
Rion looked up at her and nodded. “Yes. I was curious and wanted to ask Elder Devos about this ritual, but now I can see what it was about.”
Miri pursed her lips. It had been many days now. Rion was already accepted as part of the tribe. Perhaps it was time for more questions. “So was this the first time you had ever witnessed something like this.”
“Yes,” the boy said.
“Do you have any memories at all before your escape into the desert?”
Rion looked away. “Not … much. All I remember were brief flashes of pain. Of being held down on a cold slab of stone. Then of the journey in the wastes. With Aertos.”
“This Aertos,” Miri said. “Do you know what he was?”
“From my conversations with Elder Devos, it seems he was a Magus.”
“Did Aertos ever say anything about why he rescued you?”
The boy shook his head. “Not directly. I remember once when I spent the first day out in the wastes. He wanted me to sleep so that we may wake up at eventide, because it was easier to journey at night. I could not sleep because of the pain in my arms from the previous bloodletting, so all I could do was close my eyes and moan. He held me in his arms for the entire day until I finally fell asleep. When I awoke, it was already night and he had been carrying me for a long time. He was exhausted, but I noticed a happy gleam in his eyes when I looked up at him. I think it was because he cared about me. In the end he saved my life.”
Elder Devos came over to the two of them. He was somewhat tried, but he had a smile on his face. “Well, it seems my task as a teller is done for today. Would the both of you like some tea in my hut?”
Lands of Dust (The Dying World Book 1) Page 8
