The Secret Of The Crystal Skull

by Mallerey Cálgara

  When Heian found Mongho, he was alone, sitting on the floor a few feet from the throne room, head down and eyes moist. Heian stopped in front of him and waited for his friend lifted his face, which took a few minutes. In the meantime, he searched for words that could ease his pain, but he knew those words hadn’t yet been invented. Finally, Mongho looked up at Heian.

  “People who committed this atrocity condemned their nature through a path of blood, and traced the date with destiny they deserve death. I swear!” Heian slammed his hand heavily on his chest and down his chin. Then reached out to help him up. Mongho, with his throat clogged with pain and emotion caused by the sincere words of Heian, wiped her eyes and held his hand outstretched force.

  As they walked down the halls of the castle, Heian told Mongho on the king’s request and suggested that listed the objects he would like the soldiers to get. Mongho hesitated, reluctant to live in the castle, while agreeing with the arguments of Heian. Finally nodded, but since he gave himself to his house. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone else touching the things that belonged to his father. Also, he needed to face his fears, or the feeling of emptiness would haunt him forever. Mongho also wanted to bid farewell to the place in which he grew up and had many happy moments. Heian understood and no longer tried to convince him otherwise.

  In the early afternoon, they went to the village in silence. The only sound was the thunder of horses’ hooves. The sky over the village was gray, covered by dark smoke woody smell that rose from several houses that have succumbed to the fire, like a miniature storm was brewing. Residents had already contained the fire for hours, and many women still wept for lost belongings.

  The small alley in front of Mongho’s house was quite busy with people and cartloads crammed with objects saved from the fire. They circulated from one side to the other.

  A group of soldiers stopped in front of Mongho house, and a strong wind blew the smoke from neighboring houses on their faces. Mongho watched the door wide open and felt invaded. Three guards entered first for a quick inspection, as they, impatient, waited outside the signal to enter. The minutes dragged Mongho, looking unchanged for an eternity. When uneasy, threatened to go, the soldiers returned and released them entry.

  That afternoon was very painful for Mongho. Once through the door, sadness took hold even more of his poor heart. The idea to come across the bloodied body of his father froze his nerves. The soldier who was still at his side guessed his fear and reassured him, saying that the magician's body had been removed and taken to the local chapel by the first soldiers who came to the village. Mongho swallowed and consented to the head, causing the breath that let out serve response. His eyes blinked more often than normal as he looked around, looking for something that he didn’t know what it was. It was strange the idea of ​​having to leave the house where he was born and, even more, knowing he would never see his father again.

  He plunged into the silence, and silence was lost in memories. A tear thread trickled from his eyes at the memory of so many good things lived there. He felt a deep pain in the chest, a bitter pain. Why would they do this to my father? A good man... Even knowing Mongho recently, Heian saw the troubled look of his friend. He wished to be a poet to be able to warm Mongho’s soul. Heian didn’t know this pain. He had never been through a similar situation, and thanked heaven, and the known and unknown gods.

  Heian came close to his friend and stopped beside him, trying to recognize that mass of things overturned the place as it was before, and had seen the day before with his father and his brother. Heian dreamed with open eyes, seeing scenes of a family living happily there. He had a family that loved him, even though his brother was sometimes made of sour vinegar, as well as hard and dry as the turnip. Still, he couldn’t imagine life without him, without everyone.

  “I loved him!” Mongho’s voice sounded ragged.

  “I know...”

  The interior was warm and the oily smoke stubble of melted candles made of fat. They began to walk in the midst of overturned tables and smashed chairs. earthenware crockery and glass objects were thrown on the floor. A strange abandonment took care of the house.

  It was a simple family. They didn’t have many valuables, only a few silk cloths and two golden bowls, a gift from Queen Arapia, and Mongho saw them lying on the ground. His heart beat frantically realizing that nothing of value was missing. Anger lodged in the learner’s thoughts, suspicion clouded his mind and made him grind his teeth. They hadn’t come there to plunder. They were looking for something. What could they be looking for?, he thought, blinking repeatedly, trying to remember what it could be. Something touched his conscience as the tip of a sharp knife passing over the skin.

  “The Crystal Ball!” His thoughts came in the form of words.

  “What about the crystal ball?” Heian asked, confused.

  “Is that what they were looking for, I’m sure!” A serious expression came over his face. “My father should sense that something bad was going to happen, so he asked me to take it with me to the castle.”

  “But who would want a crystal ball? And for what? They only work with wizards!”

  “I don’t know what, but I’m sure it was what they sought. Look!” He extended his arm and pointed to the sides. “They didn’t take anything! If it was a serve, they would have caught the valuables, but it's all here, just trashed.” he crouched and took the gold cups, handing them to Heian. “Why would my father want me to take crystal ball with me? Almost no one knew of its existence! And besides, it never left me side.”

  “If he knew this would happen, why he didn’t run?”

  “I don’t know...” Monght answered in a melancholy tone.

  “Maybe something you say makes sense” pondered Heian. “But if they saw the crystal ball wasn’t here, why didn’t spared your father’s life?”

  “Because he recognized who was here” Mongho snapped.

  “What do you mean, Mongho? It's someone from the village?” Heian’s eyes were bright and inquisitive. Mongho kept his thoughts, staring at the floor with an enigmatic expression. Then his expression softened and even essayed a smile.

  “Those are just guesses.” Mongho took a deep breath once and twice, and tap Heian’s shoulder. “I’ll get what I need to go out of here soon.”

  The heat was extreme that evening, with the sun shining brightly. The stack of separate objects in the yard to be taken to the castle increased with every coming and going from Mongho’s house. Heian had never seen so much stuff! He was impressed with friend because he himself couldn’t take another step. That change seemed endless. He ordered some soldiers to help Mongho in order to end faster. He settled in the shade of a tree and from there directed the soldiers in the organization of the artifacts inside the cartload that had to pack up. Despite the situation, he didn’t miss the opportunity to make fun every time Mongho approached with the strangest things. At the bottom, Heian enjoyed and managed to get his friend to smile.

  Some onlookers had crowded outside the wall, but soon dispersed. There was nothing exciting to see.

  Nearly three hours later, Mongho, with drenched face with sweat, came out for the last time. He wiped his brow and sat in the cartload, waiting for the soldiers assemble in their animals.

  A soft wind ran through the air, providing a welcome freshness as he slowly climbed the hill back to the castle. Heian’s horse trotted beside the cartload and there was almost a silent barrier between the two.

  On the way back, Mongho was better looking than the earlier, but his heart was troubled. The apprentice meditated on all that had happened. In his heart he knew that if he wanted an answer, would have to investigate by himself. He relied heavily on Heian, but he couldn’t imagine his reaction to learn that the prime suspect was his brother, Prince Sulco. For some reason - perhaps intuition, as some people called it - he didn’t trust Sulco.

  Driving the cartload, Mongho now and then looked back to his old house moving away slowly, watching his life chan
ging, shaken as the swing.

  “Don’t worry, you’re not alone! Time is like the wind. Not only leads but also brings” Heian said smiling.

  ◆◆◆

  After having brought the objects to his room in the castle, Mongho put them in a corner to organize them the other day, and he began to analyze the crystal ball, the object that cause all of his misfortune. He placed it on the table and tried to use it even with no idea of ​​how it worked. He recalled that his father had uttered a few words and murmured the few that allowed his memory. Slaughtered for nothing take effect, sank down on the bed. He craved the crystal ball could give the answers they so desired, but it just showed his blurry reflection in some places the greasy marks from his fingers, only exposing the emptiness that gnawed at his heart.

  In the days that followed, Mongho tried repeatedly to see something in the crystal ball. He focused as much as he said the words that came sweat dripping down his face. Often he used nonsense words; in others, Mongho pronounced names of animals and objects, and even the names of their ancestors. The result was always the same: nothing.

  In moments of despair, he came to question whether the object really worked, or if it was all guesses made by his father, and the crystal ball was nothing more than a mere fantasy amulet. Maybe he, Mongho, hadn’t inherited this gift.

  ◆◆◆

  It was autumn and the leaves began to fall. The last plantings were being taken in anticipation of the preparations for the arrival of winter, where cold punish everyone.

  The villagers engaged in their tasks, over time forget the attack on the village. With high in trade, recovered the material losses they had. Mongho, however, couldn’t overcome the loss of his father. He didn’t discover the whereabouts of looters or who they would be. They had disappeared as if in a magic trick, but Mongho showed no signs of giving up. It was full of doubts that only increased with time. Mongho spent his days alone in his room, arranging the magic books and looking for something to help him understand the crystal ball. His face often expressed serious until, in a moment of anger with himself, some answers have emerged.

  “It useless! I have examined these books several times and there just no way to make the crystal ball work. Ah, what the hell!

  Impatience, Mongho threw the papers and stack of books away from the table. Some of them flew out the window, and a book fell open at his side. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and bent down to pick it up. He put it on the table and approached the candle to see what it was. His face reflected the crackling light of the small flame, and his brows stuck out, showing curiosity. His face lit up and, finally, a smile cleared his anger on his face. They were his father’s magic notes.

  “Mia Dio!”[31] he shouted. “Of course! Why didn’t I think about it before?!” He questioned himself, after reading a few lines. Up and splashed water on his face to ward off sleep. It would be a long night. Sometimes it’s good to give up to anger. It can be terribly productive, he thought smiling.

  After this episode, there were days when his studies stretched late into the night, with only the warm candlelight as companions. Despite all the effort, he failed to make the crystal ball issue a measly signal. This discourage him deeply.

  ◆◆◆

  The sun rose and timidly put in days always the same monotonous to Heian. The future king had begun his hard training with the elders, counselors and ministers of king Alphonsus, who passed his diplomatic functions. Studies filled all the time as the days slowly became weeks. Soon he would take his father’s place. Only a pleasant visit from princess Driadh, who officiated the engagement, gave color to these days. She was responsible for his little escapades of tedious studies, providing a few hours of joyful walk through the countryside.

  Apparently, Prince Sulco seemed resigned about king Alphonsus decision. Still arrogant and more mysterious than usual. He spent hours in the company of the castle magician, which at first raised eyebrows by his father because Sulco had never been interested in magic.

  At the same time, Queen Arapia contracted a disease that healers of the kingdom couldn’t identify; therefore, they couldn’t develop a potion to cure. The queen languished more and more. She didn’t get up from the bed and fed up with great difficulty.

  Healers several villages were called to the castle to diagnose her illness, but no one got good results. They knew only that the way the disease progressed, the queen wouldn’t stand the harsh winter to come.

  The silence of an abandoned tomb filled the queen bedroom, where king Alphonsus witnessed the night beat the sun. He spent long hours making his wife company, sitting next to the open fire, without eating properly. Before long, his whitened hair, the beard became long, the concern overshadowed the brilliance that always brought in his eyes, making him appear older than he really was. Gradually, his heart was dying.

  ◆◆◆

  A snowflake fell, followed by another and then thousands. The morning was beautiful, with the air very cold and sweet. There was ice on the river banks and small pools along the alleys where one couldn’t see a single living soul. A layer of snow covered the whole village, giving an extra touch in the desert appearance. People crowded the resistant oak tables of bodegas, all trying to warm drinking enough rum.

  Winter had come stronger than expected, freezing all who dared to move. A cruel snowfall came suddenly from the mountains to the north and made his way to the east. The snow was falling steadily, covering the entire field of white as a sheet. The delegation of Princess Driadh had left the castle a few days before, and they were caught by the snow on the way back to the kingdom of Drudtas. All froze to death. The princess, luckily, didn’t leave with them. Bedridden due to a bad cold, she stayed in the castle, awaiting the passage of winter. It saved her life.

  Queen Arapia was increasingly weakened. Still, on a late afternoon, she requested the presence of Mongho in her room. It was something quite unexpected.

  Mongho got surprised, and obeyed immediately. As soon as they saw him approaching, the guards who were at the door opened it without him having to ask.

  The room was dim, with the windows closed and curtains drawn. Mongho looked around and noticed that the king wasn’t present. The hearth fire burned humbly and a candle flickering on the bedside table, casting a shadow on the wall growing as Mongho approached the bed. The fragrance of incense hung in the air, softening the smell of burning wood. Seeing him, the queen, with difficulty, made a sign to her maids, who fed the fire and left, closing the door completely.

  Queen Arapia was sitting, leaning against the headboard of the bed, with several pillows under her body, dying. Mongho took a few more steps and crossed his arms with a restrained expression, trying to disguise the astonishment that the cadaverous pallor and shape of the queen caused him. Realized how important it was to be the subject to be treated, growing more intrigued than she already was.

  “Majesty!” he revered.

  “That’s not necessary, my son!”

  “I wish you get better! How may I be usefull, my queen?”

  She pointed to the chair beside the bed. Mongho went to it and sat. The Queen’s voice sounded too low; if she wasn’t very close, Mongho wouldn’t hear it.

  “I called you because I want to ask you a favor, one last wish. Not as a queen, but as a mother. I know I won’t get better and may not be over here at sunrise.” She paused to cough and continued. “Heian likes and trusts you so much. In this regard, I don’t worry, I know it you’re a loyal friend and therefore it won’t be any sacrifice for you to fulfill what I ask.” she coughed again, with greater intensity. This time, soiled white scarf with blood splatter. Mongho started to get up to look for help, but she interrupted, holding his arm. Then he sat down again. “Please take care of him!” she continued. “Don’t leave him never alone! He is a very kind and generous man, he doesn’t see evil in people who are around him. I don’t want to happen to him the same as happened to his father and me. Keep an eye on him and keep him away from his br
other!” she pressed Mongho’s arm and suddenly bent her body to his side, with wide eyes, startling him. “You know what I mean... Promise me, so I can rest with some peace!” Queen’s voice sounded hurt a single tear down his pale face.

  “I'm flattered with your order and confidence, majesty! I promise you, I’ll take care of Heian like a brother I never had.” Mongho felt chills in the back of his neck as he pronounce those words .

  “Thank you!” The queen smiled, leaning against the bed. “And be careful too. I had that dream again...” She coughed. “With children fighting for power...” Mongho gave her a firm expression, making his forehead wrinkling. “The children on the dream, are not mine, I saw, it’s not them...” The boy waited in silence for her to continue, but the queen has to cough with greater intensity. The maids, when they hear, quickly entered the room to help her.

  “I’ll let you rest...” Mongho got up, bowed and left. But before going through the door and close it, he paused for a second and looked back, quite concerned. She coughed, and every time, a lot of blood stained scarves that handmaidens exchanged, afflicted. At this time, the queen looked at him sharply, and he saw a smile sprouting from her lips. He reciprocated with a long smile. Then he closed the door and went down the hall thoughtful. What she meant by the children of the dream aren’t hers?

  ◆◆◆

  The day passed quickly and was followed by a restless night, with hurried footsteps echoing through the corridors of the castle. Dawn finally arrived and all were waiting for it to fill the sky with a delicate blush and warmed the cold night, but it didn’t. On the contrary, the sky remained covered with a white blanket, the wind howled through the cracks, hard whipping the hoisted black flags. The blizzard gave them no respite in this day of mourning.