Light Dawning

by Ty Arthur

  Under his breath, Myrr muttered at their impossible state of affairs, “We're leaving one group of religious fanatics to meet another, and hoping the results will be different.”

  26 (The Deep Fell, Late Aurora)

  Although he had been bringing righteous persecution to the people of Cestia so that their faith in the face of opposition might flourish, Erret was glad to be gone from the cramped confines of the city. The image of the burning silhouette still fresh in his mind, it was good to be back out in the world again and trekking across paths in accordance with the Farwalker's teachings.

  The day's journey had been hard, with all battered to some degree or another, his own freshly cauterized wound still offering up a throbbing discomfort with each step. Now deep into the woods, with Cestia gone from sight but not from mind, the sun was beginning to return beneath the horizon yet again. Between the canopy of leaves above and the choking smoke spreading across the region from the city behind, even the stars above were barely visible.

  It had been up to him, of course, to show the sheltered disbelievers the proper way to build and stoke a fire from nothing but kindling, always having to light the way for others. Soon enough that task would no longer fall to him alone, as his brothers in the faith were only a few hours away, and in the morning they would resume the journey.

  Finding the hidden chapel the first time had been a month-long trek all alone out in the wild, following the light of the stars and trusting the Farwalker to set him on the proper path. Empty of devout priests to man its hallowed halls and left barren from a time when his faith had been more pure, the missionary had pulled converts from surrounding tribes in the hills. The stock there was more suitable than the cowardly Cestians, having forgone the easy and wicked path of those who lazed about in the cities.

  They had been resistant at first of course, all fallen men inevitably were, but when he showed them what could be done in such a sacred place with a true god, they gladly cast aside their false beliefs in favor of treading the holy path.

  Seeding the wilderness church had been his greatest act of foresight yet, but he knew better than to take credit for the action, quietly murmuring the adage, “He who bears the torch still stands behind the light.”

  His long-lost children there would bear witness to the dawning of a new age, just as Erret had prophesied to them before wandering into Cestia to spread the good news of the light. What else but divine providence could explain his current traveling companions, willingly following after him?

  He looked across the crackling fire at the forsaken pair, lost in their petty worldly concerns. One possessed by the very shadow of darkness itself, the other filled to bursting with holy light. Both had their role to play, one to be denied to the enemy, the other to be opened more fully to the people of this decayed and sinful world.

  Erret could feel it just watching her, seeing the clear struggle going on inside. Her foolish resistance to the brightness straining to be released from her fragile physical form was writ plain as day. She wouldn't be able to stand in god's way much longer. The notion of attempting to thwart the creator of life was baffling to him, but he'd long ago learned that man was an insane and self-destructive creature.

  She let out a startled cry as Erret studied her face, causing him to flinch and jump to his feet. The apostate too bolted up, ever the eager protector even as he brought nothing but death and despair. Soon he recognized that her shout was not elicited by his staring, but a glowing luminescence peeking through the treeline where there should have been deepening darkness instead.

  Something bright enough to peek through the smoke and the canopy popped into existence, then winked out again when passing across the treeline. Myrr and Tala backed away from the fire, ready to flee as another flash poked through, this time clearly casting a bright emerald hue across their campsite.

  Father Erret let out a deep and hearty laugh of joy then, setting his ignorant companions on edge. It was yet another instance where he would have to instruct those who remained in one place their whole lives, withering away with a lack of knowledge of the Farwalker's creation. “Come then, let me show you the glory of the light to be found even here, in this forgotten corner of a dark world.”

  He pushed ahead, not bothering to see if they followed, knowing the lure the light would have. Keeping his eye on the flashes ahead, he followed after the roving brightness, finally pressing through a barrier of low hanging branches to push into a clearing. He made it through just in time to witness the next ascent of light.

  The disbelievers followed after him, as he knew they would, and he heard their deep gasps when they saw what he predicted would be waiting for them. Across the clearing grew twisted vines running along the ground and wrapping up and down a line of solid tree trunks up to the canopy above. For years the vine would grow in length while remaining mostly dormant, only entering this next phase of its life on one single night to propagate itself, spreading far and wide.

  Large, leathery protrusions marked the vine in regular intervals, filled to bursting with seedpods. When the conditions were right and the Farwalker deemed the time appropriate, they would inflate of their own accord with a potent gas and let loose to fly on the wind. What the trio witnessed now was the inflation process, as the spores gave off a sudden flash of illumination, powered by some unknown force within.

  Staring across the clearing, he knew even these two without any proper faith would be stunned by the beauty of the Farwalker's work as the next protrusion inflated and let go from its place on the vine. Suddenly translucent, a bright green light grew from within the spore, which snapped free from its home and began a lethargic ascent towards the sky, picking up speed as the wind caught it above the forest canopy. When more of the seed-filled spores began their journey, soon a line of brilliant light wafted across the sky.

  A tingling feeling started in the base of Erret's spine, rising like the pods floating on the wind, as he stared at the unfolding light show above and witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime experience. “I've heard stories of this process, but in all my travels never actually witnessed it in person. The spectacle isn't supposed to happen this far north.”

  For once no questions or derogatory, mocking remarks came from either of them, and he pressed on further, hoping now was the time. “Has there ever been a more clear sign that we tread the correct path?”

  Tala was the first to speak, crying out in longing, “They get to just fly far away. Nothing stops them. No armies or walls or voices.”

  Erret frowned when she rested her head on the heathen's shoulder and he slipped his arm around her. That was a brewing problem that would have to be dealt with, sooner rather than later. For now though, he would rest safe in the knowledge that the Farwalker saw all and made his will known to man.

  Following the line of light across the sky, he cried out in pure joy when he saw the Wanderer, now even brighter in the night sky than the moon itself. The spores made a straight line across it, leading all eyes to its holy radiance, just as the fire from the granary had done. He wiped tears from his eyes then, unable to contain his emotion at the sight of the very elements themselves crying out their recognition of god above.

  When he heard the whimpering behind him as the other two finally noticed the Wanderer's looming gaze, he knew that Tala also felt a righteous connection, weeping at the sight of god's heralding star up in heaven.

  27 (The Deep Fell, Late Morningtide)

  They broke camp in the morning, having barely slept at all to watch the continuing display of floating green lights. Tala no longer needed his assistance to remain upright, but he held her close anyway, watching the war go on in her head as she struggled to keep the tears away. None of them had come to life, as of yet, but the risk was all too real. The star was getting closer, and its diametrically opposed effects on Myrr and Tala were obvious to see.

  None of them were particularly surprised when a horribly disfigured thing with razor sharp appendages skittered towards the e
mbers of their campfire in the morning, apparently having escaped the city somehow and always managing to stay one step ahead of death. Tala's son was even worse off than he'd been before, now blackened and charred on his entire left side, but showing no concern by having been burnt alive, if indeed it lived in any meaningful way.

  Myrr shut out the surrounding world when the priest began his high pitched praises at the sight of the unnatural offspring returning again. While they followed after the apocalyptic prophet, having nowhere else to go, Myrr found that even his internal thoughts were no more pleasant than reality outside. No matter what he thought of or how he bent his mind, it always snapped back to Casterly's accusing eye. His parasite clearly enjoyed the image, offering up its approval and calling for more.

  As always, the image faded eventually and turned back to the attic in Cestia, his shadow ever eager to remind him of what had happened that night. Myrr felt like nothing more than a passenger in the memory, looking down on himself, reaching out to the void of blackness floating in the air.

  The memory shattered when Erret cried out, but this time in agony rather than rapture. In his haze, Myrr had put one foot in front of the other for hours, not realizing they had reached their destination, but it was not as the missionary had promised.

  An ancient chapel, smaller than the cathedral in Cestia but surrounded by a ringed rock wall creating a sort of courtyard, indeed stood hidden deep in the wood and far off any road or marked path. The small priesthood Erret spoke of clearly had grown, with dozens of bodies littering the ground, bearing the signs of violent ends. The pools of coagulating blood and buzzing flies indicated a recent violence, no more than a day or two previous.

  Illusions of divine guidance shattered in an instant, the missionary ran into the courtyard, throwing himself to the ground and shaking one of the bodies, calling out uselessly to his god for answers. It wasn't the carnage, so like the streets of Cestia in the city's final night, that grabbed Myrr's attention, however.

  While walking through the courtyard towards the chapel's stone entrance, Myrr and Tala both stopped in their tracks at the sight of the creature on the steps leading up to the chapel's interior. Although hacked to pieces, it had formerly been of monstrous size, easily twice as tall and wide as the Overlord's fiendish hounds.

  Its original form was hard to discern on the gore-spattered steps, unclear which piece attached where on the bulging, fleshy body. That it had dozens of limbs was most noticeable, most of them now removed by what appeared to be a combination of fang, claw, spear, and mace. Some of those limbs ended in unmoving claws, others in sharp points like some sort of natural weaponry, and yet others in mucus-covered tentacles, sticking heavily to the stone beneath.

  Tala's son skittered out of the shadow of the trees behind and nestled up against the bulk of the dead, reeking thing. Another cry of anguish from behind told them Erret approached, now staring at the body of the creature that had gone down fighting unknown enemies. Rather than being repulsed by its hodgepodge of features that didn't quite match, the sound of his wailing indicated sorrow, and a building anger.

  “Those vile worshipers of darkness had the gall to strike down one of god's holy angels on earth. I erred before, and for that I beg forgiveness of the almighty above,” he cried out while looking up at the sky, “I should have done something far worse than burn that city to the ground. Such a death was too good for those who would assault the light given flesh.”

  Startled by the outburst, the smaller, still-living creature pulled from the other side of existence rose up on its four unsteady appendages and moved away from Erret, wandering through the open stone entrance to the chapel interior. Some of the hatred drained away from the priest then when he turned back to face Myrr and Tala.

  “That cherub that follows after you, it at least still remains, praise be to god. The ranks of the heavenly hosts were drilled into me during my training, shrouded in hyperbole and pleasant lies of course, as all teachings by those lackadaisical, fair-weather priests back home are known to be. That creature though, there is no mistaking its divine origin. Given time and the proper guidance, one day it could be even greater than the angel that was struck down here.”

  Myrr realized he had unconsciously taken a step back, distancing himself from the insane monologue now reaching its crescendo. With the chapel clear of life, perhaps it was time to part ways with the madman once and for all, striking out as soon as night fell and the missionary took to slumbering.

  Rather than continuing his high-pitched sermon or chastising his companions for their lack of belief, the priest dropped his head for a moment before quietly muttering, “Arm yourselves. Death is upon us.”

  Confused by the sudden change in tone, Myrr made to step forward and question the priest, but stopped short when Tala grabbed his arm and spun him around. No longer filled to bursting with beautiful floating lights, now the sky above contained terror incarnate. The creature that regularly had sent Cestians into fits of screaming and cowering descended from the sky, much larger up close than when seen from city streets far below.

  Myrr's breathing seemed to slow, the air around him turning to molasses when he stared into those dual sets of membranous wings buzzing to the point of only being a blur in the air. Just beyond the wings, a sinuous, snaky neck ended in a bulbous head. Lacking eyes, the entirety of the creature's face was one giant maw, filled with row after row of jagged teeth. Ringing the edge of the maw was a crown of horns jutting back into the air, with a long frill running down the creature's neck giving the appearance of both lizard and insect. Despite the absence of any apparent means of sight or hearing, it set down in the courtyard gently, clutching a massive, jet-black spear taller than any man.

  In the eternity of the creature's descent, Myrr nearly missed the rider, now up close revealed to be no mere man at all. The druid's face was like ancient oak, majestic and speaking of a terrible longevity despite its many cracks and scars. Shifting his focus, Myrr could make out streaks of oozing black moss running through the barky skin at regular intervals.

  The spell was broken in an instant when Erret screamed, hurling himself forward at the wooden rider and his nightmare mount. Myrr realized then that he was on his knees cowering, and righted himself in time to see the priest fly back through the air after meeting the edge of that massive black spear, collapsing on the ground in a heap.

  The strike had been effortless, and so fast Myrr had barely seen the creature move at all. Lacking any other means of defense, and knowing fleeing into the woods would be useless in the face of a flying pursuer, Myrr called on the only means of protecting Tala and himself that he had. He shoved his arms out forcefully and tore wide the gates, screaming out the name of the void.

  It answered his call hungrily as gigantic, seeking bolts of smothering blackness launched out at the hovering beast, only to dissipate in an instant when the monster's spear was again whipped around faster than the eye could follow. A clap of intense thunder crashed through the courtyard when the bolt and spear met, and Myrr was knocked backwards along with Tala as a dread chill flowed out from the sudden collision of forces.

  The druid spoke then, his voice as craggy and unyielding as his face, “That name you so freely call upon means 'Unmaker' in a language older than your species, and your mouth isn't fit to spit out the word. If you have a desire to keep your tongue, I suggest you don't utter it again in our presence.”

  The druid's mount stalked past the easily-rebuffed thief and his cowering companion, approaching the crumpled form of the priest. Erret pushed himself up to his hands and knees despite his injuries, gasping for breath from the force of the blow before shouting, “You did this! You committed this blasphemous murder!”

  Looking down at the broken priest, Myrr heard the seemingly-unstoppable druid deign to respond, “Not I, but others at my prompting. The zealots here had opened an ephemeral doorway. It only remained parted for an instant before the crushing force of reality sealed it closed, but it was
long enough to bring that abnormality through. The knights lost many of their number before successfully tearing it apart.”

  When Erret lifted himself off his knuckles onto his knees, Myrr could see dejection and defeat on the priest's face, which quickly twisted into open hostility. Knowing his predilection for haranguing any who would stand in his way, Myrr suspected Erret would soon be meeting that spear again, likely for a final time.

  His knowledge of the priest proved true when Erret shouted out, “Do your worst, abomination! Slay me like your heretical soldiers slew my devoted children. It will all be for naught. In the end the Farwalker's radiance will consume even you.”

  The fanatical conviction being displayed in the face of impending death didn't give the druid pause, nor did it move him to immediately obliterate the dogmatic man before him who seemed to welcome death. Instead, the ancient being calmly spoke down, as though teaching a wayward child.