The Order of Events: The Council of Eight

by Haines, C. J.

  The Order of Events

  The Council of Eight

  By C.J. Haines

  Part of “The Secret Genesis”

  A “Plate-16/Planet of Plains” Story

  Feel the Past, Fear the Present

  Long ago, during the era of the Mother Shirindul, there were legends of a vast treasury, far away and concealed within the withering mountains of the Dark Lands. It was a fool’s plan to go after the treasure, for it was said to lie many a great distance within the collapsed and dead mountains, but yet…many tried and failed.

  But as many had fallen, more had come to try and succeed where they did not. A great multitude of travelers had come in a pack, all digging into the black mountainside, hoping to delve into the secret treasure within…but as the months drew long and tiresome, their limbs were sore, their backs were broken, and they had lost hope…all but one.

  After having been abandoned by all of his fellow diggers, only one lone man stood to continue the dig, and so he lunged forward with his shovel into the crumbling and worn stone, hoping that he would find the treasure, and when he did, it would all be his.

  After pressing on for long weeks, digging without end, the man’s shovel had broken, but his will had not. He continued to dig with his own bare hands, scraping away black stone with his fingers, prying hard and willfully, cracking and scraping his fingers to let blood drip to moisten the dry debris of the once mighty, but now fallen mountains, as he pushed himself forward with great effort to break the outer shell, and then…he had succeeded.

  The mountainside collapsed inwards as he removed the great bulk of a slab of rock and shoved it aside. Dust and debris blew as wind was sucked into the cavernous mouth that had formed itself before him. The traveler was proud of his accomplishment, but there was still much to do, and much treasure to be had.

  Pressing onwards into the cavern, without fear or caution, he crept in and wandered through a dark abyss of mystery.

  As he wandered, he felt as if he was being watched by something, like something was penetrating his flesh with sturdy eyes, ever watchful of his every move. It was at this moment that fear gripped him, and then, but a moment later, it left him.

  Standing before the weary traveler was the opening of a cave tunnel, sparkles of blue and silver resonating from its arch as he was severely perplexed and excited at the idea of what lay ahead.

  Rushing ahead, the traveler made no means as to hold back, and as he ran speedily onwards for his reward, he tripped over a smooth object, and found himself landing in a pile of crystals, blue and shining, and silver fitted charms and cups, one which rolled across the cavern floor lonely, as it was the very one he had tripped on.

  The traveler was overjoyed at his success, and basked in the glory of the silver laden treasures, crystals glowing in his grasp as he held them high to survey, and then something he did not expect happened. As he had discovered the treasure, something else had discovered him.

  Getting upright from the pile of glory, the traveler was alert and took a well-studded, blue resonating, silver rod, and brandished it as he surveyed his surroundings. A rhythmic sound came from all around him, like the patter of water dripping onto soft moss.

  As the traveler felt fear grip him, he called out into the surrounding darkness, a call for recognition, but none answered. As he was met by that which made approach, he would discover exactly why they did not answer.

  The darkness was broken around the glorious pile, topped by the weary traveler, as he stood horrified and frozen, as creatures unknown to him made their presence known.

  Slinking around the silver pile, the creatures stepped, arched and bent, gloomily. There were many of them, all standing in a manner of frightful stance as they twitched their necks, craning at the stranger of the cave. All of the creatures had blue, pale skin, with their veins well shown as they had a look of illness among them. Their eyes peered ghostly as they were solid yellow, glazed over, like sparkling gold. Their arms were lanky, their legs as well, as they stood investigating the newcomer. Most had not much more than rags as clothing, and their hair was black and stringy, hanging down, lifeless, as they stood twitchily.

  Fear had taken a good hold of the traveler, but he fought desperately to obtain his bravery once more, and kicked a silver vase from the pile, sending it flying into the surrounding creatures as they sidestepped the intruding object and turned their attention back upon the new sight, burning cold fear into him as they examined him further with their glittering golden eyes. They drew closer, bringing more of their being into detail before the view of the one unknown to them. Savage claws hung from their fingertips, long and sickly as they swayed inward, encircling the glorious pile that was as good as dusty embers to the traveler as he caught the full face of the enquiring creatures. They did not answer back. They did not call to one another. They did not make a sound with their mouths. Why? Because they had none.

  The traveler gripped the silver rod strongly, and thrashed about wildly with his head, looking upon the creatures as they drew ever closer and then…stopped, all peering at him with great curiosity. Without any proposed strategy, the traveler could only do what he thought was the only option, fight.

  But this was a bad idea, as he flailed madly at the creatures with his silver rod. They leapt upon him in a savage heap, and dug into him with their sharp claws, their flesh writhing in a mass of motion as they were piled up and consuming the traveler as he felt their sharp claws puncture his flesh. A feeling of curiousness, amongst the horror, had come over him. He felt some kind of thick substance injected into his body through the claws. But before he could think much more, his vision was gone, and he had blacked out.

  For what seemed like it would surely be death, was not at all.

  The traveler awoke in a surprisingly calm state, and was upon the glorious pile, right where he was when the creatures attacked him, but where were the creatures? The traveler looked around and saw nothing in the surrounding darkness. Surveying his body, he found sealed wounds with black smears of a substance, thick and oily, where the wounds once were. It must have been the substance he felt entering his body. Could it have healed his wounds so quickly? He thought to himself. How long was he out? Where were the creatures? These were good questions as he stepped down from the pile, but he was soon met with an even better question, one which he did not quite know the answer to, as he found a mirror in the pile and held it to survey his face, finding horror in what he saw.

  The mirror left the traveler’s grip sharply as he stepped back and surveyed his hands. How could he have been so unaware? His body had changed. He was now very much like the creatures that had attacked him, twisted, and without a mouth or speech.

  Bending over to view his appearance in the mirror, he attempted to cry out in horror, but it was only but a muffle beneath his sealed face, smooth and seamless.

  Ripping at his own face, he tried desperately to release a vocal tone, and went even as far as to rip the former place of his mouth open, letting out a loud and echoing cry of pain and horror through the cavernous tunnels and darkness.

  He was slumped on the cavern floor, and as soon as he had torn his face open, he watched in the mirror as it healed, sealing itself once more. What kind of curse was this? What were these creatures? Where did they come from? Why were they here…in this cave?

  Sounds of movement were heard by the traveler, but they were still far away, every patter of their hands and feet could be heard. He was beginning to notice benefits of his affliction. His hearing was better than ever before. He had sharp claws that could stab and slay with nothing but a simple placement and shove. As the creatures once again made themsel
ves in the presence of the traveler, they encircled him, soon stopping in their tracks, as if awaiting a command.

  The traveler looked at the curious creatures, and knew what had taken place. They did not wish to kill him, they had made him one of their own race. The black substance injected into his flesh must have been some kind of toxin that infects the body and transforms it into another of these strange and twisted creatures.

  Standing at the center of the creatures, the traveler could feel senses entering his mind. He saw and felt everything they did. He knew what they did, where they were and what they were capable of. It was as if they were all connected through their cursed existence, and were one mind but many numbers. But as he searched their minds, there was nothing, as if the very soul was lost from their bodies…they were empty.

  He knew now what he would attempt to do, and did it without hesitation, for if they had no thought, surely they could be swayed by the thoughts of one of their breed that had their mind intact, and with this in mind, he so tried.

  Casting his hands forward upon the ever watching and motionless creatures, the traveler beckoned the twisted ones, not only with his hands, but with his thoughts, and as he thought, they did. Rising from their places upon the cold, cavernous ground, they leapt high and attached themselves to the ceiling, and all stood staring at him. He was right. He could command them.

  Feeling an overwhelming surge of power overtaking him, the traveler looked upon the creatures and felt his darkened soul resonate with a wish for conquest, for bloodshed. He could now use his new powers, cursed or not, and take what he wanted, when he wanted, and all for himself.

  The dark mountains, fallen and serene, stood in the Dark Lands…quiet.

  But this silence was broken as the traveler, cursed and twisted, emerged from the mountains, and with a horde of the creatures following in his stead, many rushing across the dry and darkened land as others, to the surprise of the cursed one, took flight with great mysticism as they had no wings or flaps that would make such an action seem possible.

  Feeling even more fulfilled by his discovery, the cursed one took to the sky himself and flew north across the land, the cursed creatures taking flight behind him as he thought. The treasure of the mountains was not silver and glorious crystals…it was power.

  The Order of the Aura stood mighty and serene, as it had for any ages past, and would continue to do so for many to come. The many outer walls of green stone, garlanded with bridges and walkways, stood with protection, gifted by the archways that stood quite beautiful in the swooning light from the sun above. The center of the encirclement was planted beautifully with trees, bearing fruit for those of the Order to eat as it was their main diet. A great tree stood the mightiest of all, green stone wrapping itself around the thick bark of the giant as it stood high above the walls and fruitful trees below, garlanded with a huge crown of bright green leaves, swaying in a soft breeze, as the tree had been made as a tower. Covered in green stone, and at the meeting of the crown, a great chamber sat with a mouth opening wide to release a tongue in the form of a smooth and half circled balcony.

  Standing on the beautiful sight was the Mother Shirindul, decked out in Mother-fashion. Soft green and white linen draped from her form as a headdress made of silver dripped a fine veil over her face, as her snow white hair drifted lazily in the wind. Many bands of white ribbon were blowing from it, tied around her white strands.

  Shirindul looked out over her responsibility. As she was the Mother, the Order was hers to watch over, and to take care of.

  Looking down upon the orchard below, she smiled as she caught those of the Order running and playing amongst the grounds, while some picked fruit and ate together in companionship. It was surely a sight of calm and beauty, one which she had grown to appreciate, as it had been a good and joyful one-hundred and fifty years that she had been the Mother of the Order.

  Hearing a sleek sound from behind her, a rough scraping, like dragging limbs, the Mother turned from her view and was met by a soft creature, wise and friendly. He was the form of a sloth, with green tinted fur, and long, savage, but kind claws hanging down before him as he dragged them in his steps.

  The sloth tugged the collar of his Order robe, green and gold trimmed in the style of the Order. Speaking in a soft tone, he bowed his head to the Mother, as he spoke. “Good day, isn’t it, Mother? I can hear the children playing again, in the orchard.”

  The Mother tapped the long, smooth claws of the beast, and smiled at him, but drew a look of worry on her face as she looked back down upon the view of peace below, speaking in a tone of worry. “Yes, it is, Kheranda…yes, it is.”

  Kheranda, the sloth knew that something was wrong, and put himself at Shirindul’s side, placing his claws upon the cool stone railing as he looked upon the obviously depressed Shirindul. “What ails you, today, Shirindul? You look darker than the farthest lands, right now.”

  Shirindul ran her fingers over the cool stone, and answered her friend. “Why do you ask a question you know the answer to, Kheranda?”

  The sloth scraped his claws on the stone as he pulled them from the balcony and spoke in a quiet and calm manner. “I guess the same reason I always do. I just find it makes things a little more interesting to be verbal about it. I catch what you’re sensing, too. There’s something dark about, but what could it be?”

  Shirindul took her friend in arm, and inside the high chamber, and spoke to him as they walked across the glorious floor of the smooth chamber. The ceiling was a foggy crystal, green and calm, the floor sharing the same green stone of the entire Order, along with the walls and a throne that stood in the chamber across the open mouth, a green cloth draped over the back.

  Shirindul spoke to her friend as she took seat upon the throne and stared into his soft eyes, golden and flecked with brown, as she spoke her worries to him. “I do not know. It’s something I’ve never sensed before, something that…I’m not even sure what it is, or what drives it! It’s something unknown, and it’s moving fast! Whatever it is, it’s no horde of robbers and thieves, or blood thirsty murderers…this is much more than that!”

  The sloth, Kheranda, scraped his claws together and looked upon the corner of the room. What lay before his eyes was the very gathering of souls and life, the Aura, basking in green light, mighty and silent in its purpose. He stared upon the entrance to the next plain of life as it was caged into the wall by tree limbs, vast and winding. The sloth returned his view to his friend, Shirindul, and smiled as he spoke. “Whatever it is, you will have the power to overcome it, Shirindul.”

  Far away from the Order, and having exited the Dark Lands, the cursed one and his creatures swept across the face of the world. He had attacked small towns, small, lone housings in the wilderness, and even travelers, here and there, that had come across the horde of his cursed creatures as they sped across the land, dealing death to all they saw, and converting many that they had attacked to their ill designs.

  The traveler eyed the sight ahead of himself, for what lay ahead was a prime target of his want for bloodshed. It was the city of Krelesh.

  Feeling his want for inflicting pain grow stronger and stronger, his followers grew into a great frenzy as he charged downward for the city, all swooping in for the target as those below pointed and remarked the sight with curiosity, and then were soon sent into a frenzy of their own as the creatures were upon them and ripping through the innocent and peaceful, dealing away with even the heaviest armed of the city guard as they tore through the city, and by the end of the day, would leave it lifeless and in ruin.

  The Mother Shirindul sat in her throne, and held her chest. Her soul felt the blow of death upon those of Krelesh, and those who had fallen previously. The cries of death were so many at once…it was just too painful.

  Kheranda put a caring claw about the shoulder of Shirindul as she threw herself from her throne and screamed outwards, her voice ringing out from the mouth of the chamber, and across the balcony, into the air as
she was pained by the deaths of many.

  Shirindul looked upon her beastly friend, gathered her breathe, and then looked him in the eyes as she spoke. “Kheranda…it’s coming this way!”

  The sloth scraped his claws, and looked to the balcony as he spoke. “We should order everyone to stay in and lock up. You have a plan for yourself, Shirindul, do you not?”

  Shirindul looked at the Aura and placed a soft hand on the shoulder of her short, sloth friend. “You always ask questions when you know the answer, Kheranda. I’m going to face this, whatever it is. I’ll charge head on, and I’ll do it alone!”

  Kheranda took the arm of Shrindul in his claws, firmly and gently, and spoke.

  “I will have you in thought, Shirindul!”

  Shirindul smiled, and spoke caringly. “As I will have you in mine too, Kheranda. If I do fall…you know what to tell Omegeira.”

  The sloth bowed his head in agreement, and held his grip tight on his friend’s hands as he spoke. “I do. I only hope that I shall not have to bear that duty for some time.”

  As time flew by, so did the cursed one and his proceeding creatures of terror.

  Bursting their way through the sky, they had left the city of Krelesh for a westward route, and were passing over the patchy green and ash ridden grounds that had been burned in ages long ago by the wolves that had tread with burning purpose.

  The traveler, cursed and twisted, looked ahead as he was getting bored with small pickings, and was looking for the next point of slaughter, and he had sighted it. Something large was growing in the distance, a tree, which soon gave sight to a temple, one that was of great size. His mind raced as he thought of the promise of more bloodshed and death. It drove him even faster ahead as he grit his claws together in preparation for the killing.

  The Mother had left the Order, and put her powers of duty to use, flying ahead through the sky with grace. Her ceremonial clothes writhed about wildly as she sped out, leaving the Order behind with Kheranda ushering people indoors, watching as his friend flew off to meet the incoming threat, which was unknown to him.