Eric! I need to talk to you!
Hello, Kas. Who’s bothering you today?
Kuaki protestors! The ones that support the movement say that Ataidar has ignored the situation too long and needs to take action to prevent injustice. The ones that resist the movement make the same arguments but from the opposite angle! Together, they're clogging the gate, stuffing my inbox, and my assistant's phone has been ringing off the hook all day!
First of all, what is Kuaki, and second, why should you care?
Uagh...it all began with a stupid orange...
Team Four’s destination was the Twin Mountains: Mount Heios and Mount Daici. As they drew closer to them, the roads disappeared. They became the more familiar ones of dirt, but these were not compacted like the ones near Roalt. They were not often traveled. Team Four+ was entering a no-man's land known as the Special Administrative Zone of Deimos.
No one wanted to come here – not tourists, not merchants, not soldiers. Eric read about the cause during his nine-day library stay, but by now, the details were fuzzy. He remembered something about pipeline failure and a monster outbreak, but nothing more, so he asked Zettai. She pointed to a pipeline that ran alongside the road.
It was a slim oval tube that stood five feet off the ground and was mounted on two legs. Both were made of steel and coated with plastic. There were holes along its length that looked like acid ate through the steel and corroded the plastic; uneven and melted. In these areas, the rust was the worst, but spots and streaks could be seen on all sides. Inside, mold and fungi grew like a carpet and breeds of small insects flew about pollinating flowers, eating flowers, eating other insects, and forcing other insects from their territory. The derelict pipeline contained more life than most of the countryside.
“It was a plan to siphon the Fog of Mount Heios for commercial use. It generated international attention and investment, but the Fog ate through every kind of pipe the company made. The lining wore away, the Fog leaked out, and this caused the Ceihan Monster Outbreak of 1965. The entire country was thrown into chaos and the company was bankrupted by fleeing investors and lawsuits. Now everyone stays as far away from it as possible and other nations pretend it never happened.”
“Did you recite all that from memory?” Basilard asked.
“Yep! I may not look it, but I got high marks in school. It’s one of the reasons I was chosen to be a Dengel Distributor.”
“The other reason is your naivety.”
“Daylra, please stop picking on our guest.”
“Nolien, do you know what the more common name for Dengel Distributor is? Dengel Dope, because they’re all kids who are used as cats’ paws by adults. Possession of magical materials, be they tools or tomes, is illegal in Ceiha. Yet they are highly prized. Adults use children to handle the materials so they can rake in profits without risk.”
“But…I…the pay was…”
“Enough to feed yourself and some small luxury, and no more. Am I correct?”
Zettai nodded.
“Kids these days; they’re easy prey for The Trickster.”
He pressed forward toward their destination. Mt. Daici was out in the distance but still clearly visible. It was a black pillar of stone standing out against the blue sky and the brown land. Above its peaks, clouds gathered in perpetual attendance. Haburt explained that this was metamorphic rock and thus another indication that it could be Dengel’s Lair. A mage’s spirit could have a similar effect on rock as volcanic pressure.
“A mere greater mage couldn’t do it. This is sage-level power.” Haburt giggled. “I could start the debate all over again!”
“Nolien?” Eric asked.
“Whether Dengel is considered a greater mage or a sage is a popular debate among scholars and has been for ages. While complex and far-flung in details, the nutshell is that his greatest accomplishment was codifying the works of other mages and that it was done at the request of the Mother Dragon instead of his own initiative.”
I AM a sage! Shadow Dengel bellowed. Anyone who says otherwise is a jealous fool. That “Mother Dragon” is a shame, a slut, and a cu –
Eric grabbed his staff and slashed the phantom. It was only bothered momentarily.
– Who stole credit for my work.
Next door to Mount Daici was a pillar of clouds descending from the sky to the ground. Its shifting masses crackled with energy. This was Mount Heios, a mountain covered in a thick Fog. There was enough magical energy on that mountain to power the entire Isaryu continent until Eric's grandchildren were dead, or to transform everyone in Roalt into a monster and twist the surrounding countryside into a world gone mad. The only thing that could have created such an immense cloud was chaoscraft, and thus it was a sign that Dengel’s Final Lair was nearby.
“I’ve heard the other distributors talk about this place and my parents too. They said it was a ‘drug’ and that the mountain is home to ‘addicts.’”
“Daylra?”
Basilard shrugged. “It's possible. Some people like to go to places like Mount. Heios to experience the rush of high-density mana. It goes straight to the soul. Even for mages like us it can be a heady experience. For Ceihans, I imagine it would be closer to ‘divine bliss.’”
“In the process, they damn themselves,” Nolien continued. “Regular exposure to Fog leads to physical/spiritual dependency and terminates in mana mutation and/or monsanity, the mentality of a monster. Which one comes first depends on the individual, but monsanity is most likely to be first.”
Eric pulled out the Mana Juice from his first day.
“This is the same thing in liquid form, but diluted and mixed so it doesn't cause the same buzz.”
The glowing green liquid reflected in Zettai’s eyes.
“Can I...can I try some?”
Eric handed it to her. “Just one gulp.” She tried to pull it back, but he held it firm. “One. Gulp.”
“Got it.”
She swallowed and glowed like a candle. The expression on her face was pure rapture, then it transformed into sharp confidence. She compressed the light and energy into a ball she could hold in her hands. Its shine was only surpassed by the look of radiant happiness on her face. She ate it, returning the mana to her soul. Eric grinned and then he winced.
Eric! Emergency!
If I look up, I'd better not see any of your high-speed craft.
Of course not! They can't fly in Ceiha! I’m working on that, but the stupid R&D –
Kasile, calm down and tell me what's wrong.
Don't treat me like a child!
It's that or 'Your Majesty, how may I serve you?'
Fine, just listen. There was a riot in Warrior Town and I need your opinion how to handle it.
What happened?
My investigators said a gender powder keg went off because two of your guild mates were arguing about who could be a better mentor and then they started wrestling while arguing about who could be a better wrestler and some people got the wrong idea and it snowballed.
Was anyone hurt?
Nothing permanent but the social ramifications –
Basilard grabbed Eric's arm before he walked into a ditch. He smiled shamefacedly and Basilard attached a loop to his belt for the rest of the trip.
After two days, they passed by a graveyard. There was no writing on these graves nor was there the sort of art and upkeep that one expected at the final resting place for the dead. There was only a fence and a dwelling similar to the death priest’s temple in Yebo. Basilard knocked on the door and one such priest answered it.
Basilard signed and the priest replied, “An ominous one. The people died unnatural deaths and I don’t mean ‘violent’ death either. One day, they fell over, pale as ghosts, with no kon at all.”
Basilard signed.
“A necrocrafter would be easy to find. This is something else.”
Basilard signed.
“Yes, a reaper could hide and, given the chronically understaffed nature of the Ab
yss Death Corps, rogues are seldom punished. After I die and ascend, I will be able to ease that problem.”
Basilard signed.
“It started about seven years ago. The brotherhood detected a new necrocraft contract in this country, but Reno Grade denied such a thing occurred and we could not find the new user. After that, people started dropping dead, disappearing, and showing symptoms.”
Basilard signed.
“We’ve been looking for seven years, but the government has only been looking for two. Around here, people drop dead when dragons fly by and forget to keep their spirits furled. We had to prove that this was caused by a mage within the country before they assisted us.”
Basilard signed.
“You’re welcome. I don’t receive company often.”
After four days of walking, they spotted sparse greenery and Haburt told them this was a sign that they had almost reached their destination. At the end of the day, they spotted a farmer's field. Eric was so surprised that he thought it was a mirage until he touched an apple tree's trunk. On the south side of the tree, the ground was lush with grass. On the north side of the tree, the ground was hard and dry. It was a precise and unbroken line extending in a circle around Mount Daici.
“This is the border of the Special Administration Zone of Deimos. This is our destination.”
Through the trees and beyond a silo, Eric could see a small town. It was nestled into a rocky grove at the foot of Mount Daici’s western face. A cliff rose high to the south and east. To the north was a shallow grassy hill leading to the farmland and the barren countryside beyond where he currently stood. Above the town, mana clouds swirled together with those of rain near the mountain's peak.
A circle of farmland enclosed the town and divided it from the rest of the country. It grew every sort of vegetable and plant imaginable, and many from the same vine. Nolien was about to point out the illogical nature of this, but then he thought better of it, and instead he said, “Chaos.”
“You’re right,” Haburt said. “Chaos can do the most amazing things, like create a garden in a wasteland. Chaotic residue is the only possible explanation for Deimos' fertility. It is the most important indicator that this is Dengel's final lair.”
As they crossed the fields, they were careful not to step on anything. Haburt explained that these fields were the town's lifeblood: food, fuel, and taxes altogether. He went on to explain how Deimos functioned politically, socially, culturally, and economically, to which the mercenaries paid varying attention. Tiza only heard words relating to “conflict,” Eric tried to pay attention, but was drawn into another rant by Kasile, Nolien took mental notes for his family's not-at-all-noble family business, and Basilard read his dirty book. Zettai snatched apples into her pockets when no one was looking.
On the other side of the field, they were greeted by a centaur with a purple top, a red bottom, green hair, and brown hairs twisted into a question mark and exclamation point above his head. At the sight of him, Tiza burst into uncontrollable laughter while rudely pointing at him. He was twice as tall as she was and carried a scythe. Nolien clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her hand down.
Haburt stepped forward. “Please excuse my bodyguard. I hired her for her skills, not her tact.”
The centaur smiled. “Far worse have I heard/laughter at the absurd. Thick skin have I/else I would die.”
Tiza bit Nolien's finger and laughed again. Thanks to the farmer's patience and tolerance, they received directions to the governor's office.
The difference between Deimos and the rest of Ceiha was striking. Instead of humans, Eric saw demons, beast folk, mana breeds. Dirt roads and carts replaced paved roads and cars. Instead of oil and smog, he smelled grass, sandalwood, and lemon. Trees were growing beside the houses! The former were plentiful, but the latter were sparse; Eric estimated a couple hundred or so people lived here.
Haburt stopped at a large tree near the market place that bore a sign declaring “Governor’s Residence.” A string dangled next to the sign. He pulled it and a bell rang in the leaf canopy. A human-sized monkey dropped to the ground on all fours, rose to his hind legs, and bowed gracefully. A bone horn grew out of his forehead and he wore a suit that had gone out of style forty years ago.
“Hello again, Mr. Fli –” He straightened and blinked. “You're not Mr. Flimonos.”
Haburt signed.
“He's the rent collector from the capital...If you're not...” He saw Basilard standing behind Haburt and backed against the tree, blood draining from his face. “The Crimson Killer...you really do exist…P-please don’t eat me!”
“Of all the places he had to be...” Basilard muttered darkly. Then he signed his own statements.
“But you look just like the stories say and you carry that sword. It feels evil…”
Basilard signed for a solid minute, and for that minute, no one wanted to be within sword reach of him. His companions even activated their barriers and reached for their own weapons. Such was the killing intent radiating off him at the discussion of this “Crimson Killer.” At the end, the governor accepted that he was not this criminal, but Eric figured it was because he was scared out of his mind. Basilard’s spirit calmed and the governor threw back a shot glass before composing himself.
“I've never seen him for myself and the stories don’t agree. One says that he’s a faceless ogre with blood-red skin that rips people apart. Another says that he’s a ghost that glows blood red and steals people's youth. A third says he’s a human man with blood-red hair and eyes that can kill with a look. All of them state that he carries a sword like your own.”
Basilard signed again.
“I can explain the mysteries about him at length later. For now, I want to know what you are doing here if you're not from the government.”
Haburt handed a slip of paper to the governor written in scribbles that Eric assumed was Ceihan. He further assumed it was a business card the professor produced for this trip.
The governor accepted it. “Caffour Sappin, Governor of Deimos. How can I help you?”
Haburt signed.
Caffour paused before responding. “You must have mixed up the signs. If you said anything about investigating the castle on top of this mountain, then go home. Others from the outside have tried what you propose and the only ones that returned were dead.”
Haburt signed.
Caffour raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What asset could you possibly have that would make a difference?”
Haburt beckoned Eric forward and signed again.
“Excuse me, but whose choice?”
“You mean you don't know about Tasio?” Eric asked.
Caffour blinked. “Ta-zi-oe?”
Grinning like a trickster herself, Tiza chimed, “Tasio!”
A cloud of dust exploded in their midst. When it settled, a golden-brown-haired, pointy-eared, levitating man in medieval garb appeared in its place.
“Somebody call me?”
Without waiting for a response, he reached into Eric's pants and pulled his underwear over his head. Then he grabbed Tiza's pant legs, merged them into a hobble skirt, and pushed her over. While she struggled to stand, he grabbed Caffour's face.
“Don't worry. I have full blessing and authority from my little sister, Zaticana.” He kissed the monkey man full on the lips. “Call me, lover.” He snapped and disappeared.
In mere moments, what began as a civil meeting between a scholar and an elected official had descended into nonsensical farce. Eric stumbled back and forth, attempting to get his underwear off his head, Caffour spat repeatedly and babbled random languages, Tiza insulted herself while Nolien attempted to calm her, and Basilard read his dirty book.
“I'm so stupid! Basilard's going to –”
“It's The Trickster. He'll understand.”
“I'm a barbarian just like that samurai –”
“You are none of those things.” She mumbled protests. “You aren't...maybe a little violent.” Tiza smac
ked him and then hugged him.
“Thanks, Tenderfoot.” Her eyes narrowed and she shouted at the crowd, “Have you freaks been here so long you've forgotten what humans look like!?” She wrenched out of Nolien's grip, stood up, and tripped because of the confining skirt. Grumbling curses, she pulled out a dagger to cut it off.
“Tiza, remember our agreement,” Basilard said. He was watching Eric struggle with amusement inappropriate for a mentor. “Find a place to transform it back into pants. Nolien, take her there. Eric, distract the crowd.”
“Abyss take you, Daylra!”
Tiza grabbed Nolien arm to steady herself and walked in front of him. They attracted looks, but Eric flailing about, blinded by his own underwear, diverted much of it.
“That is The Trickster, Governor Caffour,” Haburt said aloud.
“If that is The Trickster, then – wait, I can understand you! How-is-did he –”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“His sister is the goddess of language. She can do that.”
“Regardless, he is a menace and his choice would be just as bad. Why should I allow someone like that to a place as dangerous as the Haunted Castle?”
Wow...in ten seconds, Tasio cultivated the same image in Ceiha that took him ages in Roalt.
With an air of sagely wisdom, Haburt began his argument.
“Governor Caffour, when I arrived here, I saw a desolate wasteland ruled by a council of tyrants and their trigger-happy attack dogs. Am I correct?”
Caffour hesitated before replying. “An outsider would have that opinion.”
“Now I look around and I see a bountiful oasis without walls or soldiers and protected by the same power that enriches it. Have you forgotten what life was like before you came to this place that you rule with de facto autonomy?”
Caffour eyed him suspiciously. “What's your point?”
“Where I come from, The Trickster has many names and one of them is Overturner of Fortune. While the Fog of Mount Heios destroyed your old lives, it also gave you new ones in this land of milk and honey. Eric Watley, the Trickster's Choice, will bring a similar upheaval, but your lives will improve as a result.”
Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 Page 26
