The gigog tilted its head in momentary bewilderment before lowering its front paw back onto the ground. It poked its head forward, as if sniffing the woman and the boy with its large nostrils. Rion grimaced as the foul stench of the creature filtered through his own small nose as the gigog’s head hovered no more than two arm’s lengths away from him. Suddenly the monstrous giant reared back, turned sideways and moved off into the fog, almost completely disappearing from their sight.
Letting out a deep breath, Miri took the boy by his elbow and began to lead him forward. The ice wall was a mere twenty paces away, and they could see a deep crevasse which they could easily enter into. “Come, let us go on.”
Rion started to follow her as he looked around, his face contorted in puzzlement. “What happened, Miri? What did you do? I thought the gigog would truly devour us.”
“I awakened a dormant memory within its mind,” Miri said while moving forward.
“Of what?”
Miri pointed as they could still see the gigog moving about. “That being has a master.”
Rion’s eyes opened wide. “A master? Who is it?”
“I am not certain,” Miri said. “When I burrowed into the creature’s mind, it showed me a vision of a distant past. It stood before a man wearing a blue robe made of strange skins.”
“This man, what was his face like?”
“I could not say. He wore a hood which obscured his visage,” Miri said. “This stranger seemed to command the beast to guard these lands from intruders.”
They had finally made it to the edge of the ice wall. The towering crevasse in front of them was large enough to fit a small sand sail. The encroaching darkness all around indicated eventide was about to begin, and the frost covered passageway up ahead beckoned ominously.
Rion sighed. He wanted to cry, but his body was too exhausted. “If only we could have known on how to deal with the gigog at an earlier time, then the crew of the Istas would still be alive. Their deaths weigh heavily upon me.”
Miri placed a reassuring hand on the boy’s trembling shoulder. “Rion, you cannot feel guilt over what had happened. We could not have known about the nature of the beast until just this moment. You share no blame in any of it.”
The boy bit his lip. “But the journey they made to get to this place, it was I who insisted!”
Miri hugged him while using her mindsense to brighten his spirits. “No more of this. You cannot bring back time, and your decisions are of my responsibility.”
Rion became tranquil once more. He knew she was soothing him with her Vis, and he didn’t resist. “My thanks, Miri.”
Slipping the backpack from her shoulders, Miri placed the satchel on the ground. “Let us start a fire here and light a few torches. We need to eat and rest before we continue our journey.”
Chapter 16
Zeren placed the now empty wine cup onto the table and made a loud belch. There were a sparse number of people left in the gambling den for the hour was late, and the coming dayspring would begin soon. He had been languishing at the pirate hold for several days now, and an irritating restlessness began to form within his inner being. Syviss and her daughter were out all day working at the algae and shroom farms near the edge of the territory and barely had time for him. Zeren had been contemplating of a way to journey towards the Mountain of Entropy to kill the Oracle, but his plans fell on deaf ears. The pirates he talked to were more interested in plunder and wine than participating in a mad scheme to sacrifice their lives against the Maker and his servants. He soon realized why his mentor had not stayed with these people for very long.
The woman he had lain with earlier in the day smiled at him, showing her misshapen teeth as she sat on the opposite side of table. Being a widow, she had not much of a choice when it came to her profession. “Shall I get more wine?”
Zeren shook his head. Now that the tingling in his lions had been satiated, he no longer had any interest for her. He leaned back and stretched out his arms. “I think I shall do with a bit of wandering for my legs have gotten stiff.”
“Do you not want to stay at my bed for another try?”
Zeren stood up and shook his head. “No.”
“What of the morrow? Shall I hold back in seeing others and wait for you?”
Zeren smiled. “I am out of coin and gems now. I shall have to find another way to pay you if we wish to do this again.”
She pointed to a small group of men still playing a game of knucklebones at the far end of the room. “Why not try and earn some coin with them?”
He snorted. “They refuse to play with me.”
“Why?”
Zeren started making his way towards the entrance flap of the hollow. “They believe a Magus will use his gift of Vis to cheat. I bid you a pleasant eventide.”
Pushing past the leather covering, Zeren walked out into the chilly twilight. He could still see a few smoldering fires through the windows of nearby huts. A half dozen sand sails were parked along the stony ridge to his left. The pirates had managed to separate the stricken Infogh and their own ship from the collision at the rock wall and were busy repairing them. The Council had been somewhat pleased, and there were murmurings their combined strength could now plunder even an escorted caravan from the Khanate.
Shortening his strides lest he slip and fall onto the smooth rock floor, Zeren slowly made his way towards the far side of the flattened plateau. He had not slept in Syviss’s abode for the past two days, but he hoped she would be charitable enough to allow him to dream off the effects of the copious amounts of wine he had just drunk. His mind was clouded with both intoxication and uncertainty, for he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do next.
Zeren frowned with inward disappointment as he continued his slow walk. His longing for Miri had now dissipated, and he felt ashamed for not truly loving her. He soon remembered her words to him, telling Zeren his true love was actually Ylira, his former partner in crime. Were all his reckless exploits being borne out as a way to grieve for her loss? He sensed the lost opportunity of a meaningful existence with Ylira had she lived.
He knew then his existence was at a crossroads. In all the cycles of his life, Zeren never truly thought of the future, for he could not see his way past the present hour. He lived for excitement, the instant gratification of his whims at that moment, and nothing more. Life to him was a series of one pleasurable, eventful breath after another, to be exhaled and be drawn out of his lungs once the previous sensation no longer held any interest to him. Only now did he realize just how pointless it all was.
The only meaningful thing left was to follow in his mentor’s footsteps. To finish what Fumal Led had failed to do. If he were to lose his life in this insane quest, then at least he would have died for a purpose. The one thing he did not lack was courage, for he had more than enough of it to fill a land ship’s hold.
Zeren’s fingers subconsciously rubbed against the last remaining vial of Rion’s blood, still hidden beneath the folds of his cloak. Despite all the fighting he had endured, the glass elixir was miraculously intact. He figured it would be better not to tell anyone he possessed it, for he had a distinct feeling he would need its healing properties in the coming days. Although he had left his brigandine armor in Syviss’s hut, he still wore his steel vambraces along his forearms while Fumal Led’s sword remained sheathed by his side, for he had been taught to always be ready for trouble at any given moment.
The smooth pathway had narrowed as he strode into an alley in between two abodes, the shadows of their walls obscuring much of his side vision. Zeren shook his head. The wine he had drunk earlier must have been quite potent, for he had never been this disorientated before. Perhaps these people are just used to drinking more powerful inebriants, he thought.
They came up from behind, completely surprising him. One man tried to grab his left arm, but Zeren instinctively kicked him away, and the opponent staggered backwards with a grunt. The blunt end of a bone club landed at the bac
k of his head which drove him to his knees. Zeren’s arms were held fast by multiple hands and another man strode into the opposite end of the alleyway and looked down at him. The blow from the club was disorientating, but the effects of the alcoholic beverage numbed the pain somewhat. Nevertheless, Zeren had to blink rapidly in order to hold back the flashes of blurriness obscuring his view.
The man standing over him was unrecognizable at first, but as Zeren’s vision began to focus, he soon realized it was Vlaex. The tattooed, bald headed councilor had one hand on the hilt of his sheathed longsword, and he stooped forward and spat a glob of saliva onto Zeren’s forehead. Zeren attempted to stand, but the two men by his side kept holding him down, locking his arms straight.
“You kill members of my blood and not expect any vengeance?” Vlaex asked rhetorically.
Zeren instinctively grinned, just like he always did before a battle. “That whore … the wine she gave me. There was poison in it … was there not?”
Vlaex chuckled. “So you are not as stupid as I thought. You discern the plot, but it is too late. The venom she placed in your cup is spitewort. A small dose is enough to drive a dozen men mad, for they see visions of spirits that are not there.”
“Oh, I do see visions of spirits as we speak,” Zeren said. “But the ones I am with are a pathetic lot, full of boils covering their already ugly faces. And their smell is worse than a rotting canis. You filthy spirits should bathe before meeting with the likes of me.”
One of the men holding his arms growled. “This filthy Magus is still making quips. Let me kill him this instant!”
Vlaex raised his hand in a gesture of restraint. “Not yet. His accursed gift of Vis will not be able to help him now that the venom courses through his blood. We shall have our fun with him for a long time before he dies.” He stooped closer so Zeren could see the twilight gleaming of his eyes. “Know this, Magus. Make peace with the gods- for your vaunted mindforce will not save you against out wrath. We have prevailed against both the Exalted and the Khanate, and you are nothing but a minor nuisance, a slight stain that will be covered up by the sands.”
Zeren started laughing. He was desperately buying time to try to build up his Vis, but the poison in his mind prevented him from concentrating. “You wish to have your way with me before I die? Are you all that desperate since even the whores would deny your diseased loins?”
Vlaex cursed before landing a blow to his left chin. Zeren reeled sideways from the punch. There was a disorientating pain in his jaw, and the flashes of light continued to stifle his vision. A part of him wanted to just give up and let them kill him, but what remained wished to keep on fighting till the bitter end.
Zeren shook his head rapidly from side to side in an effort to stay conscious. The ones holding his arms were propping him up on his knees, which prevented him from falling over. No matter how hard he tried, he could not summon just even a drop of his Vis. “You … are all nothing but cowards. Even when you poison me, you still attack with superior numbers.”
One of the men beside him drove his fist into Zeren’s stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. Zeren groaned as he labored to breathe. Another man was about to throw a punch to his face, but Vlaex made a low whistle, and Zeren’s would be assailant backed away.
The man holding onto his right arm pressed down into Zeren’s shoulder, forcing the renegade Magus to cry out in pain for the second time. “Let me duel with him,” the raider hissed. “I’ll show this miserable grubworm we can outfight any man on even terms.”
“No,” Vlaex said, gesturing at them to release him. “I shall deal with him. Once he is mortally wounded, then you can all have one stab each on his dying body, for the sake of your brothers and sons.”
The two men holding him down instantly let go of his arms and backed away, leaving Zeren hunched on the ground on all fours, coughing and trying to regain his breath. He figured there were four of them, and none wore armor.
Vlaex backed off until he was several paces away. Drawing his longsword, he used both hands and held it pointing downwards along his lower right hand side, waiting. “Hurry up and catch your breath, Magus, then you shall join the ones you killed in the afterworld.”
One of them men standing in the shadows of the alleyway chuckled. “I want that sword of his.”
Another man joined in the conversation. “No, you shall have to duel me afterwards for it, Qarlo!”
Rubbing his sore jaw, Zeren slowly stood up. Even though he couldn’t use his Vis and he was still reeling from the disorientation caused by the poison, at least he now had a fighting chance. As his right hand slid down towards the hilt of his sword, he suddenly remembered he still had the elixir hidden in his cloak. Figuring it would be better to wait until he was wounded, he decided to forgo the cure and trust in his skills as a swordsman first. Drawing out his blade, he got into a fighting stance, but his knees nearly buckled, and he ended up moving forward with a wobbly gait.
A few of the men watching started laughing. “Look at him! He moves like a drunken old crone,” one of them said. “This shall be but a short duel.”
Zeren remained lightheaded as he held the sword in a low guard position. He could barely feel his legs, and he would not be able to react with any quickness due to his disorientated state. He tried to focus on his opponent, but the spitewort’s effects continued to torment his mind with thoughts of sleep, and compounded it with a loss of equilibrium.
Using the longer reach of his longsword to his advantage, Vlaex began to move forward, holding his blade ahead of him, its tip slightly pointing upwards. He made a forward thrust, hoping to skewer his adversary in the chest, but Zeren was able to back away in time, and Vlaex’s blade swung through empty air instead.
Vlaex continued his relentless advance, hacking away at Zeren’s outstretched blade in order to swat it away, just enough for him to get in a mortal strike. Every time the longsword tried to parry his blade aside, Zeren would quickly flick his wrist, putting his sword back in harm’s way while retreating. After a few tense moments of evasion and defense, Zeren’s back foot inadvertently collided with the wall of the house behind him and he twisted his ankle as he nearly fell sideways, his thigh smashing and breaking a hardened clay pot containing refuse. Sensing an opportunity, Vlaex lunged, swinging his blade in a downward arc while hoping to cleave the other man’s skull in two. Zeren had been in a half crouch when he saw the attack coming. Quickly rolling sideways to his left while parrying with his sword, he managed to avoid the crippling strike as he used his free hand to push himself back up to a standing position a few paces away.
One of the spectators made a loud guffaw. “Now he smells like my dung pot.”
Vlaex advanced once more, this time making a low swing against his opponent’s legs. Zeren tried to pull his left foot back to avoid the strike, but his dulled senses were slow to react, and the tip of Vlaex’s blade made a long gash just above his opponent’s knee, tearing through tendon muscle. Zeren cried out as he nearly fell backwards again, but this time his legs somehow held firm despite the wound, and he remained on his feet.
Grinning with confidence, Vlaex held up his sword in the middle guard position once more as he prepared to dash forward. “It shall not be long now. You will join the other Magus in the afterworld.”
As the bigger man began his advance, a strange awareness came into Zeren’s mind. It seemed like the effects of the poison had suddenly been taken from his entire body within an instant, and he now felt a renewed sense of vigor as his Vis began to reenergized his mind. He blinked a few times in surprise as he easily evaded Vlaex’s lunges, this time making use of deft footwork to get back into the middle of the alley while easily parrying the last attack. Even the pain in his leg had somehow disappeared. The haze that blinded his senses had been lifted, and he could think clearly now.
The three others watching the duel began to gasp in surprise as they too noticed a profound change in Zeren’s once weakened demeanor. One of them dr
ew his sword and pointed cautiously to his leader. “Vlaex, the Magus looks well again.”
Vlaex’s eyes grew wider as Zeren advanced upon him. The pirate leader made a wild swing to keep his opponent at bay, but Zeren suddenly slid sideways with a blurring suddenness and he was unable to react in time. Vlaex had not been able to pull back from his own strike, and the sharp tip of his opponent’s blade pierced the top of his exposed left wrist, penetrating past the bone. Vlaex cried out in pain as he recoiled backwards, his shoulders colliding with the wall of a nearby abode, sending him tumbling sideways into the ground.
The other men didn’t waste any time when it came to protecting their leader. The first man who had already drawn his sword rushed forward, coming towards Zeren’s left side while making a swing towards his head. Zeren reacted by parrying the blow and twisting away, making a full circle in less than a second while bringing his blade level to the man’s shoulder as he got behind him. The resulting attack sliced into the back of the enemy’s head, nearly severing the neck bone. The first man dropped his sword and fell face forward onto the smooth dusty ground, a pool of dark crimson quickly forming beside his still writhing body.
Qarlo and the third man tried to come at him from different sides, but Zeren saw their attacks occurring well in advance, and he countered by making a half moon pivot with his mindforce, catching the third man’s exposed chest when Zeren slid over to his side and made a slashing attack across his torso, just below the man’s sword guard. The blade tore through the stomach, eviscerating him. The third man grunted as he fell on his knees before falling sideways, both hands trying to hold in his exposed, bleeding entrails, but it was no use. Less than a minute later, he closed his eyes for the last time.
As Zeren turned to face Qarlo, the terrified raider dropped the bone club he carried, then spun around and ran down the alleyway before disappearing from sight. Making his way over to where Vlaex had fallen a few moments before, Zeren noticed the gang leader had managed to pull himself back up while still gripping his longsword, this time with only one hand.
The Maker of Entropy Page 18
