For the first time, Mongho felt proud just being who he was: a descendant wizard of the Kingdom of Malecs.
Now, however, there were more questions and doubts than before. He wished that someone would take away the nightmare presented by the crystal ball, but there was no one to guide him. Only time would reveal the truth. He thought about writing about the vision, while the details were still fresh in his mind, but he felt he could never find words to describe what he had seen and felt. He left recorded in memory as one of the most important events of his life.
However, something in the vision deeply troubled him, even more than seeing Sulco with the crown. Who were those kids? Would be the same as queen Arapia saw in her dreams? And what they meant to Sulco? On one hand, Mongho was happy to have discovered that he had the gift of sight, even the future being an uncertain event; on the other, there began a great solo journey in search of knowledge. He needed to learn the ancient language of the Book of Mages, because on it would be some of the answers had been seeking to control the crystal ball.
He looked at the corner and saw the crystal ball inert, among the many scattered objects. He groaned when standing up, which refreshed his memory: just before, he had been thrown against the wall. While leaning to catch the ball, another moan escaped him. The ball issued a warm, soft glow at the touch of his hands, and Mongho quickly put back on the box, barely able to resist the idea of not closing the lid. He walked away with discomfort, though he was aware that, for now, he couldn’t deal with that powerful force. It was best to keep it stored.
He wiped a sweat trickle of running down his forehead. Sudden way, he thought of his father. Now more than ever, his suspicions about the death of him had increased. Probably it was because of the crystal ball that his father had been murdered. I must act fast, or there will be more funerals, he thought. He shuddered in anger shock and fear for such ideas. He sighed and shook his head, trying to get rid of melancholy that began to flood his heart. However, it didn’t disappear completely, by being aware of the important tasks ahead. He put on his wizard robe, before forgotten on the side, and he went for a walk. So, he would think and enjoy the fresh air.
◆◆◆
Meanwhile, Prince Sulco and Cerbus walked in stealthy silence in the halls of the east wing of the castle. That was the old wing, abandoned. The two could be taken by ghosts, if it wasn’t the sound of rats running aftering see them. Sulco followed forward holding a torch. He knew the way. The halls were long, almost identical, forming a maze seldom traveled by servants. It was a solitary place, where the windows were always closed, surrounded by a constant shadow of the past, with heavy and cold aspect. Prince Sulco considered the perfect place to install his new room and thus, to begin his experiments. There wouldn’t have interference from anyone.
Sulco and Cerbus opened a door into another hall, at the end of which, a heavy wooden door with thick iron latches was the only access to the ancient underground dungeon. The access from the yard was closed for several decades.
They went down for more than a hundred steps, ending in a door guarded by two guards, both looking pitiful. They were inexperienced recruits, carrying their halberds, and followed the prince’s orders to kill anyone who approached. Behind that door was a stuffy, dark room, away from any sunlight. The light came from candles in candlesticks only kept on the table and oil lamps. After it, initiated the old cells, according to the plans of Sulco, they would be used soon. In each cell, above the old makeshift latrines, there was a small window with just over a foot with thick iron bars, who gave sight to the wall of the empty courtyard.
Sulco’s study room was bizarre. He spent most of his time in this room, and the place would become his bedroom, if it wasn’t for the lack of space to put a bed. It wasn’t big, it had little more than five square meters, but because of the mess, it give the impression of being even smaller. The walls were made with irregular stones, they didn’t have the finish cut present in the rest of the castle. From one of the stone, water flow slowly, increasing moisture and musty smell.
A big table was next to a rustic wooden cupboard, dusty and without draws, with several magic potions. Above it, there were two stuffed deer heads, and among them, the coat of Heilland, but with an addition: a sword stuck in a skull. On the wall, lined wooden shelves-filled glass jars of all sizes and shapes. Covered in dust, they were full of soft things suspended in a cloudy liquid. Separating the living room from the cells, there was seeded entire wall niches in which Sulco shelved hundred scrolls.
Aligned against the side wall, large closets and open in front exhibited morbid collection of skeletons of birds and small mammals, as well as some of its members. Beside them, a magnificent collection of arms and armor was exposed: gauntlets, sabatons, lobsters, tail helmets, pauldrons, longswords, flanged maces, flails, brigandines, bucklers and crossbows.
Once Cerbus entered, he give a small, distracted smile, looking satisfaction and identification with the site.
“You, Cerbus, are the third person alive who enter here. From now on, this will be one of your workplaces.” Sulco motioned for him to approach the table. “I want you to read these books and prepare potions that I determine.” He indicated the pile of old books. “Don’t you dare betray me or you will never leave this place alive, and you will make company to the old wizard.” The prince warned him with an expression of great seriousness on his face. Then he turned toward the shelf on his back, and pointed to the wizard’s head exposed in a glass pot with a yellow liquid.
“Neniam mia sinjoro!”[38] The servant bowed. “What do you want me to prepare, my lord?” Still bowing, he kept a submission posture, Cerbus was willing to immediately perform his task.
“I want something very special to give my sister-in-law, the queen, a little different from the present offered to my most worthy...” He left the sentence stop the air, in the middle of a smile and a look with satisfaction as he pulled to the chair to sit down. “Don’t worry about my father. The time will be helpful and it will be responsible for causing his downfall.”
“What about the King... I mean, Heian? And Mongho? What will I do, sir?”
“Humph ... Mongho is a failed wizard. He has the power, but doesn’t know how to use it. His thoughts are limited. No need to worry about him. I just want to find out where he keeps the crystal ball.” Sulco drummed his fingers on the table, relaxed. “And as Heian, for now you won’t do anything, he’s still useful.”
The prince then turned serious, as if a black cloud hanging over him. He frowned and leaned his arm on the table. Cerbus knew that look and walked away, leaving his master mentally reviewing the plans for his brother’s future, responsible for making Sulco’s blood boil.
CHAPTER VI
Mongho came out of his room and wandered through the gardens to get to one of his favorite spots: the well. He sat down, leaned back against the cold wall and stretched his aching legs. The fresh air helped him to calm down, although there was no more denying that panic threatened to take him over, whenever he thought about Sulco on the throne. He was aware that those fragments from the future were only the beginning. The conclusion reached was odd: he would have to spend more time studying magic and needed to be strengthened if he wanted to protect Heian and the kingdom. Continue playing the role faras ĉiu [39], as he did until that point, wouldn’t help him at all. Something big awaited him in the future, much more important than this function. He sighed deeply, interrupting his thoughts, or he would spoil his dreamed moment of glory. He was a real wizard and he was happy, although frightened by not knowing yet how to control his power.
So Mongho remembered that there was a wizard on the castle, and decided to look for him to get some help in reading the old books. So Mongho could practice magic in his room, since he had no intention of telling the wizard about the crystal ball. He didn’t know if he could trust the wizard.
He got up with a start, swung his legs to get rid of the unpleasant feeling of thousands ants walked over him, a
nd stopped to drink fresh water from the well by turning the crank and up the bucket. It’s time to stop thinking and start acting, he told himself.
He took a swig and dropped the bucket in the well, looking for a moment the crank turning. Seconds later, the echo of a dip echoed the background. He turned away and went back in slow steps to his room. When opening the door, he looked with dismay at the mess. Despite the twinge of a headache, he was determined to organize everything. Hours passed, and it took longer than he expected to leave the room to organized. This time, separated the books and settled them on shelves.
It was almost two hours for lunch, when Mongho went to the kitchen. He was in the right environment. Among all the castle servants, this was the best place to get any kind of information. He took the opportunity to try the apple pie that would be served as dessert and between a conversation and another, he knew that the castle wizard was giving lessons to the prince Sulco. Upon hearing that name, a spark of anger flashed in his eyes and he swallow dry the apple pie. It was not to his liking approach Sulco, much less speak to him. He thanked the cook and said goodbye with a nod.
He passed through the halls excited, questioning everyone about the wizard whereabouts, and amused himself with nothing understated looks and giggles debauched some about his hair. He even agree with Heian, that white lock fitted him well.
After hours searching and asking questions to which everyone always answered that the last time they had seen the wizard had been in the Prince Sulco’s company, Mongho had no escape: he would have to look for the prince.
◆◆◆
Reluctantly, the wizard headed for the east wing of the castle. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he saw a long hall dotted with multiple doors. He lit the lamp, took a deep breath and moved slowly to get through that dark and ghostly way. Not knowing if he would return to that place, he tried to memorize the details, how many doors and their location, even without knowing where they lead. When he returned to his room, he would add as much information as possible to the map.
He walked from one side to the other, but found no servant or guard who could tell him which way was Sulco’s room. He was impressed with the complexity of that place. It was bigger than he imagined and very different from the rest of the castle. It had a different beauty, cold, mystical, causing chills. Mongho had heard the servants tell stories on the wing, and thought he was prepared to face the reality of the place, but he was mistaken. Each step was a new chill that begin on his back and ended on his head.
Ages ago, the brother of Prince Sulco’s grandfather, with a very eccentric taste, kept in that place souvenirs brought from his travels. The wing was decorated with headless statues and bizarre paintings depicting various facets of death. When the king’s brother died, employees decreased comings. They claimed that the place was cursed and that the King’s brother lived as ghost stuck in the middle of his belongings. True or not, the wing was deserted until prince Sulco moved there, and, in Mongho’s opinion, that place matched Sulco’s personality.
Mongho tapped lightly on each door and waiting to be answered. Realizing seconds later, there was no one, he opened the door to make sure it was a room or another hallway. In one of his thrusts it went against several empty and dusty rooms and no hallway. One of these rooms caught his attention, because all the furniture was covered with sheets, yellowed by time. With caution, Mongho came in the room and went to the window. He pulled the curtain and the sunlight streamed into the room, along with a cloud of dust, ripping a sequence of sneezing. Then he tried to open the window for air to circulate, but it was stuck. Then he looked around and he was amazed at the size and luxury of the room. Suddenly, his attention turned to the single frame. He found it strange, because the walls had marks showing that in another era, that picture had company. Curious about what the blanket covered up, he went to the frame and found out. A haunting smile slowly welled up in his mouth. He stopped in front of the table, admiring the painting of a beautiful young woman with fine features and strong expression, with deep and mysterious eyes.
Minutes passed until Mongho was torn abruptly from his thoughts at the touch of a strong hand on his left shoulder. In the heavy silence of the room, one could hear the heavy-beats of his heart. His legs buckled, and even without having full control of movements, Mongho managed to turn his head back.
“What are you doing here, wizard apprentice? Are you lost?” Cerbus asked, cold and firm. Silence came between them, Mongho got pale and barely able to breathe. He needed time to compose himself, but realized that Cerbus wouldn’t give him that time. He sighed heavily, and with the swinging voice, replied:
“What a fright you gave me! I didn’t see you approaching.”
“I’ll ask again: what are you doing here?” His voice strained with urgency, making it clear he wasn’t satisfied with his presence.
“I'm looking for Prince Sulco!” Mongho noticed the man was fidgety.
“What do you want with my master?”
“I wonder where do I find the castle wizard. I need his services.”
“For what?” Cerbus pretended to show interest.
“I told you, I need him.” There was some nervousness in Mongho’s words.
“I haven’t seen him for a long time. My master said the magic classes are over and the castle wizard made a long journey back home.”
“Weird... he didn’t warn anyone!” The wizard’s apprentice gave a frustrated sigh. “Did heard him say where he lived?”
“I think he said something about an old shack in the swamp...” Cerbus interrupted his words when he realized what he might have said too much. “Come on! I’ll show your way out.” He pushed Mongho toward the door. Mongho gave the frame a last look before leaving the room. They made the way back without exchanging a word. Crossing the door to the stairs of the west wing, the wizard felt a great relief to be rid of the presence of the man. For minutes that seemed like endless, the feeling that he would never leave that place alive, hunted him. The explanation given by Cerbus wasn’t convinced, but for now, he would accept it.
◆◆◆
When he came to the room, Mongho searched for paper and ink, and took notes of the hallways of the east wing while they were clear in his memory. When they were ready, he puts the notes in his trunk. He saw on the table a dagger and tied at the waist so that no one knew, without knowing for what purpose he would use them. He roamed the castle, shaking hands with the servants until he found the messenger, whom he asked to take a message to King Heian, saying he would be gone for a few hours to visit an old friend. Then he went to the stables, took a horse and rode to the village. At the entrance, he tied the animal in tree and continued on foot, addressing the villagers, wondering which way was the house of the wizard, without much success. Suddenly, the image of the woman painted the picture came to mind, diverting his attention. Who was she, anyway? How beautiful!, he thought. He shook his head, trying to get ride off those thoughts and quickened his pace to speed up the search for the wizard.
In the village, he walked the back streets to deviate from the central area where the movement in trade was intense; plus, it was a market day. Merchants coming from neighboring villages brought several products and bargained at local businesses. They traded everything from food to amulets to exorcism. Children ran through the vendors, trying to earn a few coins to exchange for candy. Go there would waste too much time. He would have to dodged the goods, fight for space between the hay cartloads and people. For a long time, he didn’t go to the village, since his father’s death. Marked by longing and homesickness, he changed his mind and decided go to the market.
The smell, people’s habits, nothing had changed. It made Mongho recall his childhood, when his father took him to the central square to see the artists make juggling presentations, while others tried to earn some money with cheap magic tricks. He sighed with the wistful look.
Even trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, some people, when they saw his hair, pointed and laughed.
The olders greeted him with respect, when they saw that he was a wizard.
When getting closer to the exit to the forest, he began to ask again from the castle’s wizard. Some people addressed pointed toward the castle itself, other answered they didn’t know who he was, and they could count on one hand those who dared to say, even afraid, that old witch might know where the wizard lived. Mongho changed the focus and tried than, to know who this witch was. He found it very difficult to get such information.
Later, tired from walk multiple locations, his initial animation was replaced by a cold state of despondency. The wizard was ready to give up, when the owner of condiments store gave him a vague idea of where the witch’s house was.
“The last thing I heard, it was many years ago, so I don’t know if she’s still there. She lived near the swamp in a shack that seemed about to collapse. She was one of the few healers remaining, descended from Malecs’ kingdom. She owned a plantation of herbs in the background hovel, some very rare and old. I even bought some, but then, the lady started to ask for a lot of money for them, and my business wasn’t walking very well” said the old merchant. Those words improved Mongho’s mood, who was hopeful at the prospect of meeting the witch and meet one more descendant of Malecs. He thanked for the information and gave the old man a gold coin, making it output a smile from ear to ear. Without thinking much, Mongho decided to venture into the swamp.
He glanced at the road rutted by wheels and horseshoes, then stared at the dark path in the other direction, inside the forest. Although that path was long, dark and bumpy in places, Mongho decided to follow it, because carts and horses didn’t go through there. So, he wouldn’t risk of being seen. He walked for nearly two hours, cutting branches and scaring with strange noises, not daring to look around to see what it was.
The Secret Of The Crystal Skull Page 7
