Chapter Thirteen
Black Waters
The sun was getting low in the sky above the treetops, casting a purple blanket around the greying clouds. The trio was growing closer to where Shale had said the boat would be. Luckily, it was nearer to the forest edge, so they hadn’t had to go through the poisoned woods again. Shaya found herself thanking the Goddess for that. It was a little out of their way, but Shaya didn’t mind the extra two miles walking if it meant they didn’t have to trudge all the way to Lake Coral.
There was corruption, as they grew closer to the river, but nothing as extensive as those horrible woods. The grass and flowers were dying, but the trees still stood strong and tall, the colour of rich oak.
It had been hard to say goodbye to Sap, none of them had really spoken much since they left him. Without the Rootling’s high-pitched squeak of a voice, their party seemed so much quieter. The only sounds they made were the rhythmic crunching of dried leaves under their heavy boots.
The map was a crumpled mess now, especially after the soaking from the waterfall. Their clothes were almost dry thanks to the humid forest, but Shaya could still hear the annoyed grumbles coming from the prince, irritated mutterings about his damp tunic and soggy socks. A circle written in black on the torn map showed where the boat should be. Shaya guessed that if they kept heading east, they would find the river. Then they would go north along the riverbank until they found the boat, hopefully.
Shaya couldn’t help but look over her shoulder as they went, just waiting for something to jump out of the trees or scuttle out of the dying foliage.
The sound of the river reached their ears before they saw it. The noise broke the silence of the forest, it grew louder as they followed the sound. When they made it to the shoreline, the three of them stopped and stared at the flowing water. The current was weak. It streamed from the north, where Lake Coral lay and went deeper into the forest, towards the poisoned woods. The water was pitch black save for hints of dark purple shimmering in the dimming light. The grass on the shore was dead, grey the colour of ash. Any flowers that once bloomed there had rotted away.
“The corruption is coming from the river?” Jinx thought out loud.
“That means it’s coming from Lake Coral,” said Shaya
“Then we might already be too late,” Rowan looked over at the girl.
“We have to hurry.”
Shaya began to jog along the riverbank, heading north, the others followed. Trying not to trip over the uneven ground and attempting to read a map at the same time proved tricky. Shaya’s almost empty bag bounded up and down on her back, continually hitting her in the back of the head.
Not far now, she thought as she stuffed the map into the back pocket of her dark brown shorts.
“There,” shouted Jinx as she shot like an arrow over to what looked to Shaya like a mound of weeds and vines resting on the riverbank. As they quickly approached the pile of dying foliage, Shaya could just about make out the shape. Good job sprites have fantastic vision otherwise, they would have run straight past it. Shaya and Rowan immediately began pulling greenery off the small wooden rowing boat. The vines had snaked their way around the wood, weeds were growing out of the spaces between the slats. As they tore off chunks of moss, hundreds of tiny insects scattered and scurried away. Rowan nearly yelped when he disturbed an unusually long centipede from its dirt covered shelter. The fat sausage like insect scuttled away on dozens of tiny feet and disappeared into the undergrowth. Some of the ivies had fused to the wood. It had been there so long, the whole boat was a part of the forest.
Thankfully, it was large enough to fit two people in. The wood had warped in the years it had stood there. I looked as if it used to be a pale blue colour at one time. Now it was a dirty grey colour, with patches of brown and green, which was mostly the moss and dirt they couldn’t shift. Shaya thought it looked like a long breakfast bowl. At the bottom of it lay two ores, Rowan picked them up and pulled them apart, weeds had snaked around them too and wrapped them together like a present.
“Is this thing even going to float”? he asked as he looked it up and down, unimpressed.
“There’s one way to find out,” Shaya grabbed the boat with both hands and began to push. At first, it didn’t budge, then it started to move inch by inch. As it did, the grass underneath ripped out of the ground and went with it. Rowan clasped his hands around the boat and pushed as hard as he could. Together they heaved until the wooden vessel slid into the river with a satisfying splash. Where it had been, was a bug infested dirt patch that hadn’t seen the light of day in a very long time. The boat bobbed up and down in the light current, it was tied by a frail-looking rope that was lashed to a nearby tree stump. Jinx hovered above and peered into it, looking for signs of damage.
“It looks good, no leaks,” she said.
“After you, your highness,” Shaya gestured towards the lightly swaying boat. Rowan looked at it with a doubtfully raised eyebrow, then back at Shaya.
“You must be joking,” he huffed.
Shaya rolled her eyes as she shot him a playful grin, she knew he’d say that. The spoilt little boy she’d met in the castle was still in there. She held the boat steady as Rowan watched in anticipation, probably waiting for her to fall in. With a quick hop, she was in, the vessel rocked back and forth as she found her footing.
“Easy,” she said just before she stumbled and nearly fell overboard.
“Really?” said Rowan sarcastically as he handed Shaya the ores.
“Come on, your turn prince,” giggled Jinx, who was hovering above, watching them with gleeful enjoyment.
“Thank you, Jinx,” he said with a hint of irritation.
“You’re welcome,” Jinx was having a great time.
The prince held onto the side of the boat, hesitant to jump aboard.
Come on we haven’t got all day, Shaya’s impatient mind huffed.
Eventually, the prince jumped, maybe a little too hard. As he did, he pushed the boat out and somehow landed on the wooden floor on his back, but at least he was dry.
“Very graceful your majesty,” sniggered Shaya.
“Remember Shaya,” huffed the prince as he awkwardly clambered to his feet “I can have you arrested,” he said with a slightly embarrassed smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said and cut the tattered rope with her sword.
They sat on the two wooden seats facing each other, Jinx flew down and landed next to the prince. Rowan inspected his bow and arrows, making sure he hadn’t broken any in his little spill. They were fine. Shaya threw her practically empty backpack down and started rowing against the current. The flow of water was only light, so paddling against it wasn’t much of a struggle, but the boat and ores were made for a fully-grown adult, and Shaya looked like a drunken bird clumsily flapping its wings as she rowed.
The water was like ink, it smelled funny, like decaying fish. Shaya peered over the side and looked into the oily blackness sloshing all around them.
“By the Goddess,” she exclaimed. Rowan and Jinx jumped up and had a look for themselves.
“Oh no,” Jinx muttered.
Dead fish floated by them, their eyes open wide, their mouths agape. The darkness had polluted the waters and suffocated the poor creatures. They had died blind, gasping for air.
Only a monster could do such a thing, thought Shaya as she continued to row upstream. She knew exactly what monster was responsible, and somehow, she was going to put a stop to it.
♦ ♦ ♦
The glade hadn’t changed since the last time he had set foot in the place. The green grass was still lush, the waterfalls still gushed with glistening purity, shimmering against the setting sun. Rakmar stood in the middle of the clearing, darkness oozing from every part of him. The green grass at his feet slowly began to shrivel and die. As he approached the temple steps, the two stone statues lurched upright and stepped down from their pedestals. They arched their backs, their curved swords clasp
ed tightly in both hands, pointing out in front of them, their heads low, ready for battle.
“Leave this place,” echoed a voice. Rakmar knew it instantly, he recognised the hint of fear.
“Is that the way you greet your brother?” Rakmar sneered.
“You’re no brother of mine,” said Shale’s voice “Leave, now!” he roared.
Rakmar grinned and thrust out his hand. His black blade appeared, and he swung it down to his side. The sight of the guardians didn’t even break his stride. Bodyguards for a God, how pitiful.
The first stone statue bolted forward at a surprising speed and sliced its sword at Rakmar’s head. Without even flinching, Rakmar quickly raised his blade and deflected the attack. The stone sword flew at him a second time, Rakmar took a step to the left and watched as the weapon missed him by an inch. It had been a long time since he had had an actual fight. He was going to enjoy this, as short-lived as it would be. He thrust up his blade, meeting the statue’s sword. The stone cracked and split as the two weapons clashed. At that moment, the second guardian appeared with a heavy swing of its sword. Rakmar dodged, and the blade smashed hard into the ground, getting wedged. Rakmar thrust his sword up at the shoulder of the second statue as it tried to pry its weapon from the earth. Chunks of stone exploded as the soldier’s arm crumbled and fell to the floor in a shower of dust. The first warrior attacked again with a flurry of furious swipes, Rakmar deflected each one with the final one shattering the guardian’s sword. The statue watched as his weapon crumbled in his hands. Rakmar took the opportunity to finish the stone man by cleaving him in two with one mighty stroke. The statue split from head to groin and crumbled into pieces as Rakmar watched with a gleeful sneer on his dark face.
He turned as the remaining one-armed warrior yanked his sword from the ground and readied its self for the storm.
Enough of this, I’m bored now Rakmar thought to himself. He leapt forward and shoved his blade right into the chest of the stone soldier. His enemy fell back, and Rakmar went with it, still pushing his sword ever deeper into his foe’s ribs (if it had any). With an all mighty boom the statue hit the ground, cracks shot across its huge body. Rakmar twisted his blade and ripped it out of the stone torso. As he did, the guardian crumbled, as if it was made from wet sand.
The shadow of a man continued for the monastery unfazed as if he hadn’t just single-handedly destroyed two sword-wielding stone giants.
“What is it you want beast?” Shale’s quivering voice rang out as Rakmar ascended the steps of the temple.
“Just to talk,” his pace was unhurried, he walked with purpose but didn’t rush.
“You imprison me here for all these years, and now you come to talk?” Spat Shale, the fear in his voice battling with the sound of his anger.
Rakmar slammed the tip of his sword into the ground and dragged it along as he walked, leaving a black gouge in the stone tiles. The scraping sound echoed in the great hall, the shrill noise bouncing off the walls and high ceiling.
“Don’t speak to me of imprisonment brother. I was encased in my tomb and banished to this place, this decaying world. Never again to fly across the cosmos, to see the endless beauty of the heavens. This land you long to save is nothing more than a cage that I am locked in, bound and shackled,” Rakmar growled.
Shale’s face appeared on the wall in front of him. Rakmar reached his brother and looked at the stone visage staring back at him from his mountainside prison.
“I was lost, broken. For over five hundred years I had to live amongst these parasites, just as weak and useless as the rest of them.” Rakmar ran his gloved hand across the mountain wall next to Shale’s face. He left a sizzling dark mark burnt into the rock. “But I’m not so weak anymore.”
“Still on your quest of destruction and genocide, monster?”
“I loved this world once, treasured it. I was willing to go to any lengths to preserve its beauty, its soul. But now it can rot for all I care. I have other matters to attend to,” he sneered.
Shale’s granite-like features shifted nervously, he was scared. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to flee, and Rakmar knew it. The shadow lifted his hand and stared at it. Wriggling his fingers, the darkness swirled and twisted around them like vines, taunting his prisoner.
“What is this? Your power returned? How?”
“Centuries of persistence,” he said quietly “And a great deal of patience,” Rakmar stared at the darkness emanating from his palm, he was transfixed by it. Shale waited for him to speak again, but the shadow said nothing. The silence seemed to go on forever until Shale finally broke it.
“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you? Get on with it,” he said solemnly.
“I’m here to ask you a question. Just one.”
After a moment's hesitant pause Shale spoke again “Ask it,” he said finally.
“Where is the Prince of Arrolyn?”
“The prince? Why?”
Rakmar simply stared at him.
“How would I know?”
“I have no time for games brother. Where is the boy?”
“I know nothing of the prince, how could I? I can’t leave this place. You saw to that.”
Rakmar slid his black blade across the wall inches from Shale, scoring a dark, smouldering gash into the rock.
“I have an army of Krarg waiting on the outskirts of the forest. One word from me, and they’ll ravage that Rootling Village to the west.”
Shale’s face dropped, a look of horror etched into the stone like a sickening carving.
“I doubt that those little tree children would taste very nice, but the Krarg would have their fill regardless.”
“You wouldn’t,” said Shale’s panicked voice.
“Oh, brother,” Rakmar stood close to his sibling and lowered his voice to nothing more than a whispering rumble “We both know that I would.”
“I can’t, please. I can’t.”
“Very well,” Rakmar turned and began to walk away “Then the tree folks deaths are on your head.”
Rakmar had only made it a few steps before Shale spoke in a hurried yelp.
“Wait.”
The Fallen One stopped, a sly grin ran across his lips
Pitiful, a God brought down to this husk, truly pathetic, he thought. At least the last time we met there was still fight left in him. What a disgrace.
“Go on,” He commanded as he turned back to face his brother.
Shale hesitated, he sighed a long and dusty breath.
“They’re heading east,” the silence that followed seemed to hurt Shale more than anything Rakmar could do to him. The stone shifted into an expression of pure shame. His stone lips quivered, and his eyes seemed to shrink as they stared at the floor at Rakmar’s feet.
“Continue,” Rakmar was intrigued.
“They’re innocent, brother. They are but children.”
“Who is the other child?”
“A young girl, she has no part in this. Please, I beg you, don’t harm them. What do you even want with the boy?”
“I intend to make mother’s prophecy come true,” Rakmar smiled, his dark eyes twinkled.
“Her what? I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to. Now, you said the children head east, but where are they go-,” Rakmar stopped suddenly. His dark eyes flashed with realisation. “Rayne.”
They were going to see their sister. He had found no sign of her since he had come to this land, nothing. He had assumed she had made her home in the middle of the sea, controlling the waves and storms in the endless oceans. She had always been the strongest of them, once, but that was a long time ago. His siblings had grown weaker, and he had only become stronger in his exile.
“She resides in Lake Coral, doesn’t she?”
Shale was silent; he didn’t need to speak, the look on his face said everything. He stared at the dust-covered tiles. When he finally spoke, his voice was nothing more than a trembling whisper.
“Brother, plea
se.”
“Thank you,” Rakmar placed a gloved hand on Shale’s stone cheek. It was almost affectionate.
“Please, don’t harm the children, or our Rayne, please, I beg of you brother.”
“As you said before, you’re no brother of mine.”
Without warning, Rakmar whipped up his sword, and in a flash, he thrust the dark blade straight into Shale’s forehead. The mountain wall cracked into jagged broken shards. Steaming blackness exploded from within the rock. The temple shook with the dying screams of a God.
♦ ♦ ♦
The shattered moon shone down upon them; it’s pale white light reflected off the still, black water. Shards of purple shimmers spread across the lake. It would have been almost beautiful if it hadn’t poisoned the waters. A perfectly clear night stretched out above them. Shaya had stopped rowing, she had been at it for hours, and her arms were aching. Sitting back against the vine infused wood of the boat, she looked up at the night sky. She stared at the dark hole that spread across the moon, the crack that could always be seen on nights as clear as this. Seeing it now, and knowing what it meant was special. She knew a secret, a secret kept from the whole world.
Legend spoke of the Goddess shattering the moon in anger and heartbreak at the destruction of a spiritual temple during the savage Arrolyn, Limeryll war. Both sides saw the moon erupt and break apart as the ancient shrine crumbled. The sight had been enough to stop every soldier in their tracks, and the war had ended that night, or so the story was told.
Shaya had no idea if a shrine had been destroyed, or if that had been the reason the war had ended. It was five centuries ago. If it weren’t for that old tale, she would have never heard of Limeryll, a distant land far across Celease to the west. A place with its own history, religions and its own tellings of ancient times.
Other tomes from across the globe said the moon was cracked by a demon the Gods fought to protect the world. As it turned out, that tale was closer to the truth than people realised.
Every culture across Celease had their own versions of the Gods; each one saw them differently. Belief was the foundations on which many civilisations had built their lives upon. Shaya found it strange to know about the Gods, not believe, but actually, know. She had met one, spoken to him, and was on her way to see a second. She would no doubt come face to face with the third soon enough.
The Shattered Moon (A Divine Legacy Book 1) Page 20
