by Marc Mulero
The Crown rose from his throne, one eye twitching as he stretched his arms and legs, and then folded forward in a hunch before making his way over. He grabbed the delicate frozen crown on his head and tossed it against the wall. Crack. Pieces flew everywhere.
All of a sudden, the Crown didn’t look very kingly at all. His posture was poor, lazy, goofy. A ring of melted ice made his hair look ridiculous - puffy on the sides and flattened in the middle.
“I… I do good, Ram?”
“Yes, Mudry, hah. Very good.”
The burly, flabby man smiled, and then looked to Eres. “I no burn you, nice boy. No fire chambers here,” he hooted, large belly bouncing with him, “just joke. Ram loves joke.”
“Ram… Ramillion?” Eres spun.
“Genius, I tell you. This boy is a genius.”
The others laughed while Eres rolled his eyes.
“Good sport, nice boy.” Mudry patted Eres’ back harder than he likely realized.
“Why did no one warn me about you?”
“Well, where would the fun be in that?!” Ramillion hopped back to his feet and rested arms on his hips like a mother scolding a child, oversized sleeves looking even more ridiculous as they curved out.
“Alright. Why aren’t you in my fata’s esper?”
Ramillion’s eyes widened, multicolored irises glistening like rainbows. “How could you! Shh! How do you know you’re in good company? Mudry here could be a spy for the terrible Seren Night!”
Every word dripped with sarcasm to the point where Eres was getting concerned. Did this man not take any of the Skrol’s plight seriously? Wasn’t he one of their grand trainers?
Mudry hooted, his belly jiggling. “No worry, nice boy. I told you! Is no burn here.”
The woman servant removed her hood casually, showing a long Mohawk of hair that immediately revealed her race – Dagos. “You need to relax a little, Eres Way, you are far removed from the Osa Sphere, far removed from everything really, and time moves more slowly here, so if you don’t lighten up, this will feel like a long and miserable existence.”
“Ramillion, Mudry… and you are?”
“Kyta. Kyta Brew.”
“Kyta. Pleasure to meet you,” Eres was now returning some of their mockery, “but Seren actually did find me out. My heritage. My allegiance. And he has but one esper left to take: mine. On top of that… if he were to try and go after my friends, or my ooma, I’m nowhere near to help them. So ‘relaxing’ isn’t going to be an easy task for me.”
Ramillion began to scrunch his arms out of the ridiculous sleeves. “Eres, if I may,” his tone almost turning serious, “your friends and family are in good hands. Ilfrid has been with the Alliance since the beginning, and is nothing short of a hero himself, albeit not with a sword, but in other ways, protective ways. Have some faith in others, as others have faith in you.”
He then removed his hood, shrugged off his robe, and shook his hair free. Eres didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed before. “You’re not uemon… not Dagos or Eplon.”
Ramillion’s smirk was still apparent, eyebrows raised, knowing that just in his form, he was a sight to behold. Sickle shaped ears sharpened downward facing his neck. Delicate, pointy features were perfectly symmetrical. Limbs proportionately small and slender, ice-colored hair raised. He was a-
“Kujin… the forgotten race. I-I’ve studied your kind in Generations class years ago, and on my own before that. I read all about your kind in A Suffocated Flame. You’re supposed to be-”
“Extinct, I know. Strange, isn’t it? Because as far as I can tell, I’m standing right here, alive.” He spread his arms wide.
“Ram may no look like, but is old.” Mudry nodded to himself.
Eres narrowed his eyes. “It was said that your peril came at the hand of the first races, both the uemon-kind and Dagos. That upon meeting us, learning our ways of science, of our natural lifespan, made your kind mad.”
“Ram is no angry.” Mudry looked confused.
“No, I mean crazy,” Eres clarified.
“Yes, and the Founder is an all-powerful being that knows the secret to our existence, but will only reveal himself if you collect a bunch of uemon made rings.”
More sarcasm.
“How could a non-believer have helped so many Skrols?” Eres was at a loss.
“Agreement is not a requisite of kindness,” Ramillion assured. “But anyway. My kind did have trouble, yes, but tell me, who wrote ‘A Suffocated Flame’?”
“An incredibly revered author and anthropologist, Ooganie Prince,” Eres recalled.
“Try again.”
“Hmm?”
“I’ll wait.” Ram folded his arms within his light blue garb.
“Oh,” Eres realized, “a uemon, Umboro born. She wasn’t one of your kind.”
“Precisely. The window is important, Eres. One must always consider which side of it they’re on.”
Eres, rarely caught off guard, stalled.
“Come in, I am in inside look out.” Mudry threw his hands up as if Eres was slow.
“Do you mean come on?” Eres was growing even more perplexed.
“In. on. Means to end no matter so long as end happens.”
“Is everyone here a great philosopher?” Eres’ sarcasm was now dripping as heavily as Ram’s.
“We do have a lot of time to think here.” Kyta smiled.
“Think and play jokes. Great, I’ve dropped into some contemplative circus or something with a bloody Kujin.”
“Ram is no bleeding?” Mudry scratched his head.
Everyone but Eres laughed.
His teeth were clenched behind closed lips…
“Nowhere,” he muttered, “I’m getting nowhere.”
Not only was he annoyed, but his mind was brimming with questions: Were there other Kujins still in existence? How did he veil himself from the Faction’s database for so long? Were there other palaces in Verglas? Sorcery, was it a real art? It was going to be a terrible challenge sticking to one train of thought.
Prioritize, he told himself. It doesn’t matter if they say I have time, because I don’t. What if Seren attacks tomorrow? That is a question I’d be a fool not to ask myself over and over again. Whatever information lies here, I need to gather it… and fast.
“Ramillion… your race was, err, is said to practice sorcery… something that the Factions of Ingora believe died centuries ago. As someone on the outside of the window looking in,” he glanced at Mudry, and then back to Ram, “can you shed some light?”
“What is Reach, if not ‘sorcery’?”
Eres paused briefly, cycling through his studies, linking, differentiating. “Reach is classified as a natural link to Gushda. Sorcery was said to be a manipulation of elements in Rudo.”
“Oh,” Ramillion said, pretending to have learned something, “so you’re telling me that in that esper of yours, you haven’t seen roots stripped from the ground, fire ignited from thin air, waters steered into impossible shapes?”
“I… I’ve seen that with my own eyes,” Eres reflected.
“Hmm! Books, classifications, studies.” Ramillion shook his head. “So valuable, but yet… so rigid. The barriers you create to separate information can become walls that block you from connecting everything, if you’re not careful, that is. Think critically. Tell me what your original definitions are missing.”
I guess I have to put up with this if I’m ever going to learn anything here.
“Influence. In old times, the Kujins and Reach wielders must have studied together, learned from one another.”
“And what do you think they found?”
“Me know! Me know!” Mudry’s eye started twitching again with what Eres was beginning to understand was excitement.
“Maybe Mudry can enlighten me.” Eres gave up.
“Is all pull from Gooshduh.”
“That’s right.” Ramillion smiled. “The ‘Eternal’ world is named such for a reason. There are so many facets, s
o many different understandings. And we, our varying races, through different studies, have only attained glimpses from our individual perspectives. And over the years, those kind enough to share, to teach, have expanded our peripherals. And one thing is true for all who have. All of us. Every, single, one, learned a critical lesson.”
“What’s that?”
Kyta grinned and said, “We all learned that we know nothing.”
“It’s humbling, really,” Ram confirmed.
“Isn’t that an oxymoron? How can you learn if you know nothing? And if you know nothing, then how can you ever progress in anything?”
“We don’t see it that way here, in the UnderSpire,” Kyta spoke.
“Please, enlighten me again.” Eres blinked hard, trying intently not to wisecrack.
“Well for one, you took a very specific inquiry and expanded it into all things. Not very philosophical of you,” Ramillion scolded. “Just because you read many books does not make you a qualified thinker. If you search deep, you know what I say is true.”
Eres wanted to jab him with the point of his sword. Maybe cut off the end of one of his long ears. That was a pleasing image, but then he digressed. How would he even know of my internal struggles, of how many times I’ve been wrong before? Was Ilfrid feeding him somehow all of this time? Was Dee?
“For two, when we, here in the UnderSpire, speak to knowing nothing, it pertains to one realm, something you’ve studied before while tucked away in Elesion, I’m sure.”
Elesion… is that where he had a spy on me?
“Right now, you’re likely wondering how I have all of this information on you, so far away from your sphere. It seems incredible, doesn’t it?” Ram laughed at himself. “But that is for another day, if ever. Focus. What is the study of which I speak?”
Eres was mad, and not the crazy kind. He hated being forced to bend and adhere to authority, especially when they acted like this. Regardless, this place was so otherworldly, so outlandish that he was compelled to do nothing but comply. He wanted something from them after all - answers - and so he thought hard…
Know nothing. How did Wudon explain Reach – something you have or you don’t. Maybe that’s what this little guy means. You can’t know it. What is ‘it’?
“Sindah,” Eres said, “the interaction between Rudo and Gushda. You’re saying you can’t possibly know it.”
“Yes, my boy, yes!” Ramillion praised, almost sincerely.
Mudry clapped excitedly for him.
“This is going to sound weird but here it goes,” Ram began. “Think of how you have use of your arm.”
Oh, I’ve heard this analogy before…
“Easy, right?” Ram swung his arm in all directions. “Well, that’s what it’s like to have an eye into Gushda through Sindah. You either have this arm or you do not. There is no know.”
“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Eres crossed his arms.
Kyta giggled. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Those who possess Sindah usually lack something when compared to those who don’t.”
“Heh,” Ramillion butted it, “Kyta here loves to look at people in terms of allocated point systems. It’s a fun theory, really. You have Reach? Okay good, then she will run and find your deficiencies faster than you can discern them.
“Anyway. Now imagine, when Sorcerers and Reachers found each other in ancient times, it was as though they were shown limbs they didn’t know they had. Like an arm growing out of their back. You wouldn’t think to use something you didn’t know was there, right? We see this as rehabilitation. If you were paralyzed, lost the use of your legs, and now must regain that use, you have to work hard at it.”
“So… how do I know I don’t have Reach? Maybe my phantom limb is just… asleep?”
Kyta frowned.
“Still hopeful I see,” Ramillion said. “I imagine it could create a great deal of envy to not be able to turn the sands when others can. I am truly sorry, Eres. You do not possess that ability.”
Eres’ eyes went straight to the floor because deep down he knew it to be true. Not once had he ever felt a connection other than the ring that his father had concocted. At least he had that.
“There is good news, however. A silver lining, if you will. You see, although Kyta’s theory is fun, and trust me, it is, there is also some truth to it. If you aren’t rooted in Gushda spiritually, then you are here, in Ingora, in Rudo, one thousand percent. Where a Reacher can command a ball of fire to be hurled straight at you… you possess the wherewithal to evade it.”
Eres looked at his own hands.
“Surely, you must know it. You’re more in tune with your body and mind here, where you stand. And that’s because you’re not pulled between two worlds like Wukaldred, tormented like Crow, or obsessed like Masarian. You’re here, Eres Dawn, the last of your linage, the tip of the Way sword. Embrace it.”
Eres sneered. “So I’ve come all this way for you to squash the slivers of hope I had left? I wanted to connect more with my ooma’s teachings here, while learning the ways of the Skrol. My entire childhood was made up of stories of great adventurers, waiting for my fata… and trips into the Dolseir forest to gain her wisdom of nature. She thought I could be like him.”
“Oh Eres, that’s where you’re so very wrong. Lorfa never wanted you to be like Agden.”
How the hell could he possibly know anything of what my ooma wanted? How can he know any of this, locked away out here? It’s one thing to receive messages, or use Reach to obtain far vision, but how can this Kujin claim he knows intent?
“She wanted you to know more about Miyannas.”
Eres’ heart skipped a beat. His demeanor became noticeably rigid. My mota? he thought, chills running up his spine. But I barely even remember her. How could he possibly…
“I… I think I heard enough for one day.”
Ramillion inched closer to Eres, pointy shoes appearing too big for his body, ice-like hair reflecting against the ceiling. He appeared less intimidating the closer he got, the less he spoke. Just a miniature being compared to the rest of the races, easy to be deemed the forgotten one. Not by way of knowledge, just in appearance.
“You are wondering how I know all of this. You’re spooked. Not sure yet if you’re in good company.”
Eres’ eyes dropped to meet his, saying it all.
If I were ever to be face to face with the Founder, this is how I imagine it would be.
“Allow me to dispel your suspicions. It was Agden, your father. He told me. He told me all of this.”
Eres breathed out a long sigh, not sure yet whether it was of relief or not.
“He spent much of his time with me… when he should have been with you. Sacrifice should have been this man’s first name. In a thousand years, I have never met a more resolute being, so determined to upkeep the way of the Skrols. There were plenty of others who’ve taken the oath, sure. But they followed the appropriate tradition of avoiding connections, family and the like. But your father… he fell from grace, found your mother, had you. It’s only after such an unholy –”
“Mistake?” Eres cut in.
Mudry frowned.
“Decision,” Ramillion corrected, grabbing both of Eres’ wrists and peering up at him, his eyes reflective of Gushda itself, the colors a rainbow reel, exhausting and enthralling to look into all at once. “It was only then, when things got tough, when Agden created tethers for himself, did I see what the man was made of.”
“So, he would’ve been less useful to you had he spent time with me?” Eres broke from Ram’s grasp. “I see how you sway, Mr. Kesh, even if he couldn’t. You persuade through praise, play to ego, to the road you wanted him to take. You think I haven’t seen your dynamic before?”
Ramillion frowned. “I did not mean to offend.”
“That would make you even more rotten to your core.”
Kyta gulped. “Eres, please. Let him finish before you judge. I am a Dagos; I’ve come all the way from inland Ralfas to be i
n this legend’s tutelage. He has no ill will.”
“It appears, Kyta, that such a point of view is only a matter of perspective.”
Ramillion sighed. “Again, going to the general when we are in the specific. You can devolve any argument by saying it’s a matter of perspective, my boy. I am merely trying to share my lens with you, to pass a message, to find an understanding. But I see that now is not the right time. But before I leave you, ponder this - never once have I sought out a potential Skrol. Never once, had I sought out your father. You see, his mind was already made up once he’d reached me. What’s so interesting about you is that yours is not.”
The Kujin’s frown was evident, leaving a long, empathetic expression before he turned away. “I hope we can laugh together one day, Eres, for the lives we live are fleeting, and laughter is its gift. I leave you with less pervasive, more pure residents of the UnderSpire, as you put it.”
And without another word, Ramillion hobbled out of his quarters looking sad, ears folding down more than usual before he donned his hood once more.
Chapter 29
Much to Learn
“Is this really where future Skrols are sent to train? I’m still in shock. I mean, I fell into a prank. A production by yours truly, over here.”
“Pretend fun. Ram fun, Eres,” Mudry replied.
Kyta let her arms fall to her sides. “This is it. But, tell me you’re not impressed? The UnderSpire is a Mustae damn ice castle. Look around! Get out of your own head and open your eyes!”
He followed her advice. There, right in front of him, walls of glimmering blue sparkled in his vision, each shade becoming darker the deeper it went, like the depths of an ocean turned sideways. There was so much science to wonder about in there. For instance: How did this “ice castle” exist far under blankets of snow, harboring so much life? Shouldn’t it have collapsed onto itself already like a dying star? But there was more to this than met the eye, obviously. The inside, Eres realized as he bent to touch the floor, was more crystal than ice. Maybe that’s how they were still standing strong.
And what was this? Within the see-through walls appeared to be curvy objects like large seashells. For some reason that Eres couldn’t explain, they seemed like some kind of glue that bonded this entire place together, holding it up.
