Soulseeker’s Descent

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  Alac closed his mouth, feeling insulted although he knew the dragon spoke discourteously because his character was a masterful one.

  Róganok accelerated more and more. Now they could see Degoflórefor within its solar system.

  “I am about to generate the vortex that will take us to the River of Time,” the beast warned him. “Get ready.”

  Alac flattened himself against Róganok’s back. A deep purple spiral appeared. It resembled the portals of Kanumorsus except in color. The dragon sped up and plunged into the vortex. Alac felt a change of pressure as if he were in an absolute void. He was surrounded by a tunnel with streaks of light that stretched towards infinity. The universe had turned two-dimensional, like a road with lights and drawings of galaxies.

  The dragon was flying above those galaxies with barely an effort. Did traveling through this shortcut not affect the passing of time? That must be one of the many mysteries of the River of Time.

  Alac abandoned his skeptical analysis of the phenomenon and gave himself up to the beauty and splendor of his destination. It was something unrivaled, something of ineffable perfection. He wished Luchy could have been with him at that moment.

  “It is wonderful, isn’t it?” the dragon said. “The Wild People know it as Mother; we know it as Ÿ. Welcome, Alac. You are in the presence of the essence of nothing and everything, totality and creation, destruction and creation.”

  The young man let himself be carried. He felt a delightful warmth in his chest as if he were leaning against the Great Pine, although in reality he was riding a colossal dragon and feeling overawed by the infinite.

  ***

  When they left the River of Time, Alac felt the change in pressure once again. The temperature, on the other hand, remained constant, perhaps due to the protective cloak the dragon was generating around them.

  They were in the void, a galaxy formed by something like vertical columns of stars, most of them very old and red, blue, or green. There was a mass of gas around the galaxy so that from afar, it looked blurred and ghostly.

  Róganok was heading toward one of the stars at a fairly high speed, although his body remained stable. They passed very close to a star whose color was somewhere between blue and purple. It radiated a serene light over a piece of earth that circled it. It was not a planet, but something like a patch torn out of another world, trees and roots included. Nevertheless, this piece of land was gigantic, the size of an entire world, and flat. It barely spun on its axis, so the days and the nights would surely last for a very long time, supposing concepts like these existed in this magical place.

  When they came closer, Alac was able to make out more details. It was covered by a green cloak of extremely tall trees and thick vegetation. Among the greenery, they could glimpse a sky-blue city. There was no atmosphere. It was the strangest and most wonderful thing he had ever seen.

  “Welcome to Allündel,” Róganok said with a smile, his voice full of feeling. “It has been thousands of years since I last visited this wonderful land.”

  They landed in respectful silence. Alac dismounted, noticing that the protective cloak vanished at once. He could breathe and the temperature was slightly colder than in other places. His teenage curiosity guided him to the edge of the piece of land.

  It was like looking over a cliff. He felt dizzy. He had to move back and sit down. He took a second look. Before him stretched the infinite, painted with thousands of luminous dots. Above, the purple sun changed color to aquamarine or turquoise.

  The dragon cleared his throat. “Alac.”

  The boy turned swiftly and with a leap was beside the beast who appeared sad.

  “Forgive my good master, God of Light. He has just been reborn and is not very much accustomed to the wonders of the universe.”

  Róganok was bowing to an elf with delicate features as if they had been molded by the hands of an artist. The angular jaw revealed that he was a male. His nose was straight and his eyes were turquoise. His hair was a cascade of silver which reached to his hips. Pointed ears were clearly visible through his hair. Alac had never seen an elf, he was sure of it. However, he felt as if he had known them forever. The sensation of knowing something and not knowing it at the same time was very strange. He concluded that it must be because his body and mind were occupied simultaneously by both the soul of the young boy Manchego and the reincarnated God of Light.

  The elf was old. It was not so much his features that gave that impression, but rather something in his gaze, as well as his air of nobility and kindness.

  “Welcome to Allündel, the last redoubt of the elves and other gods who decided to take shelter in this magical land, far from the conflicts of the universe. My name is Uín. Here you will find sages who, instead of telling you what to do, will offer you clues so that you can find your own path. I am glad to see you again. It is thousands of years since you disappeared. It is obvious that you are still finding yourself, Alac, but once you recover all your memories and powers, you will once again be the omnipotent God of Light, Bringer of Hope. Come, my dear guests, Allündel will celebrate your visit. There will be a banquet and then the council will gather to discuss what needs to be done next.”

  The elf set off, leaning on a staff of weathered wood. His purple toga rippled as he went. Alac and Róganok followed him through the great forest that was spattered with little floating lights. They were like tiny stars that lit up the magical place.

  The city was as magnificent as the elves that inhabited it. Children ran everywhere, playing; the grownups trained with bow and arrow, halberd, short spear, sword, and magic. Elf women were also remarkable with their lithe, graceful bodies, their silver or golden hair, and their turquoise or violet eyes. Once again, the young demigod felt the impulse of an attraction he could not control, even though he had long since decided to stay eternally faithful to Luchy.

  “The Fountain of Grashuda,” Uín announced. “Waters blessed by creation since the times in which Désofor and Mórofos were one—the Old Gods. It is said that they bathed here and that afterward, they divided themselves to engender the New Gods.”

  Alac was in awe as he stared at the fountain. It was a simple thing, really. Nothing adorned the fountain and yet it seemed to contain the wisdom of the ages. The young man felt thirsty at seeing the vital liquid and had an impulse to dip his face in it and drink. He wasn’t quite sure what would happen if he drank from such a fountain.

  They went on. Alac looked up, beyond the titanic trees which spread for leagues toward the unreachable sky. Between the trees, bridges had been laid, large and strong enough to hold several dragons at the same time.

  “Allündel is the only piece of our planet we managed to save after the Times of Chaos,” Uín told them. “Now it floats freely around Oris, our sun, which is still in mourning. Our world was destroyed. We know that war is coming again, but the fact that you are back gives us hope. You have arrived at just the right moment. Well, we will talk about that later; for now, let us celebrate! Welcome to Allündel!”

  The close-packed trees opened to a great clearing that held a palace.

  “Karsa will show you to your room. It is large enough for both of you and you will not want for comfort.” He waved toward an elf woman who was approaching. “Karsa will be your guide during your stay in Allündel.”

  “I am Karsa of the House of Nina, the Princess of Yonder,” she said as she led them along a sky-blue bridge.

  The material of the bridges and the technique of their construction was a mystery to Alac, who could only imagine the beauty and splendor of the ancient world of the elves before it was invaded and destroyed by Mórgomiel.

  “Allündel hosts all the tribes of elves that exist in this universe,” Karsa told them. “Now, we call the tribes Houses.”

  She was beautiful. Her hair was golden and her face delicate with an upturned nose and full lips. Under her tunic, which reflected the lights floating around them, a slender figure could be glimpsed with few curves.
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  “Although some tribes stayed on other planets, far from the safety of Allündel. And some have chosen the dark path.”

  Karsa’s face darkened. As he looked at her, Alac felt that he had already seen elves before, though it was not possible. There were no elves in the Meridian or Degoflórefor.

  “Our home is made of a little-known cosmic material, flexible and durable at the same time. Our weapons and protections are made of the same material. We have a mage who strengthens them,” she explained, smiling once again.

  On their way, they met a group of elves, all with serene gazes. Here an eternal, almost palpable peace seemed to reign.

  “That, over there, is Uyca, the center for social gatherings. You will join us at the passing of the Sands.”

  Uyca was a succession of pointed towers that gave out a faint light.

  Alac was puzzled by this. “The Sands?”

  “That is the way we measure time in Allündel. Híz invented the Sands for this purpose. In our world, one day is four falls of the Sands. We also measure shorter moments, but it is rather complicated to explain.”

  While Alac was adjusting to the new conditions of Allündel—not being able to speak of hours or minutes—he realized he understood the language of the elves, something that would soon provide him with a surprise.

  He began to make sense of the city’s structure. Each tree was a sector with its own houses, streets, and peculiarities. Streets were composed of roots that created a sort of bridge between the gigantic trees. They came to one of those trees.

  “This is where you may rest and recover,” Karsa said. “These will be your quarters as our most esteemed guest. When the Sands pass, we will meet at the gathering in Uyca. Your dragon will let you know. I will see you then.”

  She left without waiting for a reply, apparently untroubled as though time did not pass at all for her. Perhaps that was true; in Allündel, time did not elapse in the same way.

  ***

  The room occupied an entire level of the tree and was connected to other levels by a stairway. It was supported by several columns that rose from the ground. Róganok explained to him that this was how the elves respected the tree’s life and kept it safe, alive, and happy. The columns were like its veins.

  “Rest now, Alac. The gathering will be a demanding one.” The dragon lay down on the floor and curled up. “And the banquet will be exquisite.”

  “And the Sands?” Alac asked.

  He took off his armor with a thought. The armor vanished. He immediately felt more comfortable. He was still wearing the cotton clothes of a Mandrakian farmer.

  “Your clothes are dreadful,” Róganok commented once again.

  The boy spun around, tired of the same refrain, and thought about Teitú once again. One day he would tell this dragon that he did not care for his way of expressing himself.

  “Take note of what I say and relax,” the beast told him. It closed its eyes and a thread of smoke escaped through its lips.

  Teitú would have explained everything in detail. He let out his breath in frustration and sat down on a small area of something like grass. It was really like a tiny cloud, soft. When touched, it turned out to be as comfortable as a cushion of the Meridian. From his position, he was able to observe the two silver bowls that floated at the entrance of the room. The upper bowl held a formidable amount of sand. Through the narrow lip, the grains fell into the lower bowl, like a golden thread. The young man felt tiredness beginning to overcome him. The cloud engulfed him in a warm embrace, and he slept, as he had when he was a little boy in his grandmother’s arms. He dreamed he was back on the estate, that he was watching the dawn holding Luchy in his arms with Rufus beside him, licking his hand…

  ***

  He stretched his arms and wings to shake off the long, delightful dream. Róganok was yawning, sticking out his forked tongue and displaying his pink throat.

  “Hurry up, Alac. Otherwise, we will be late.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Sand,” said a sweet voice.

  “Sand,” responded the dragon. Alac noticed this must be the way elves greeted, perhaps the same way Mandrakians greeted each other when they said good evening or afternoon. But because time elapsed differently in Allündel and there was no true afternoon or dawn to speak of, elves simply said sand.

  It was Karsa, who had put her head into the entrance. She had changed her dress and was now wearing a silver gown set with precious stones.

  “The sand has fallen,” she said. “The council is about to begin the session. Come.”

  Alac and Róganok exchanged glances. The beast gave him another disapproving look.

  “You and your criticisms,” the boy complained and put on his armor with a thought, except his helmet.

  “That way, you are more credible,” Róganok said with a mocking smile. “Before, you looked like a beggar. I simply say what I think.”

  “Maybe you should hold your tongue every once in a while.”

  ***

  Uyca contained the simplest and most beautiful hall he had ever seen. Unlike human architecture, it was not decorated with objects, paintings, or statues and for light, the glimmer which emanated from the structure itself was sufficient. The hall, wide and airy, was covered by a dome that allowed the purple and aquamarine light of Oris to penetrate without any obstacle. The resulting light was a spectacle.

  The council had sat down in a circle on the floor. All the elves wore their hair long, straight, and loose except for one. There was a single elf who had his gathered up in a bun and instead of a toga, he wore armor made of some metal that did not reflect the light from outside. He seemed to be the general of the armed forces.

  Another elf also stood out. His hair was more silvery and was braided with little purple flowers. He looked as though he was the spiritual leader. Two elves away sat Uín, the one who had welcomed them on their arrival in Allündel.

  When Alac approached the circle of elves, they all turned to him. Whispers broke out, which the spiritual leader soon put an end to. The dragon made himself comfortable nearby but did not draw anybody’s attention.

  “Welcome, God of Light, to our council: the children of the children of Lumibel and Alambam, who gave origin to Elfaram, the beloved ancestors of elves. Lumibel also gave origin to the Arc Angels and with them, the God of Light, Alac Arc Ángelo.”

  He was not using the language of Mandrake but Alac understood him perfectly well. Was this the language of the elves? The language of the Gods? Another odd feature was that the elf spoke in a feminine voice. In fact, up to that moment, he had had trouble distinguishing male from female elves. They all shared the same delicate features and a quality of distinguished nobility.

  “I, Azuri, present the God of Light reincarnated who, after several centuries, has succeeded in coming back to us as a demigod, capable of feeling deeply in his heart, loving like a human being, and feeling like a living creature, in addition to possessing the powers of the God of Light. Alac, we extend our warmest welcome to Allündel, the last redoubt of the elves that lives on thanks to Alac Arc Ángelo’s efforts during the Times of Chaos.”

  That explained the respect they had treated him with, Alac thought.

  “Human?” growled the elf with the hair tied up. “Humans are a deplorable race who only act on impulse and are capable of betraying their people. Their lives are short and they are still like children when they grow old.”

  “You may be very wise, Lohrén,” Róganok said in a deep voice. “But for all the thousands of years you have lived, you lack manners. It would seem even a human has more manners than you, oh wise elf,” mocked the dragon. Alac felt proud of his dragon for the first time. It would seem Róganok spoke with a prickly tongue to everyone, not just himself. It was good to see Róganok pick on others.

  Lohrén said nothing but turned a rancorous gaze on him.

  Azuri gestured invitingly with her perfect, slender hands. “Does anybody else have anything to add?”
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  “Is it true that Mórgomiel has returned?” another elf asked.

  Alac did not know whether the question was directed to him. He waited. They were all looking at him curiously.

  “It is true,” Azuri replied. She gestured at Alac to let him know that he needed to say something.

  “I fought him,” Alac said with a gravity very far from the warmth which was normal to him as a shepherd. “Mórgomiel was reincarnated in the world called the Meridian during a cruel battle.”

  “The Meridian, the world of the portals… Has he been reincarnated in a human?”

  “Yes, a human.”

  “Damnation!” Lohrén protested. “You see? They’re weak. They should all have died when Flamonia fell!”

  “Be quiet, Lohrén!” Róganok roared. This time, the white dragon snarled and bared his teeth. “Thanks to humans, you have hope, you ungrateful wretch. If it were not for them, for their great heart and their feelings, you would be doomed to destruction. You know what I am referring to. The necromancers in Árath have kidnapped countless elves over the millennia, and have tortured them to find out your whereabouts. Without the humans, who stopped their advance, they would have found you.” Róganok snorted and Lohrén bowed his head.

  “The dragon is right,” Azuri said. “Thanks to human hearts and their impetuous wishes, the beings of the Celestial Divinity were able to follow the masterplan of reincarnating the God of Light. It is within weakness and vulnerability that we find the greatest strength. We elves possess great wisdom, but something else is needed in order to save the universe, Lohrén. Wisdom by itself is soft and fixed in its place. It lacks arms and legs and needs ears and a mind to set it in action. Humans are the conscience that sets wisdom in motion.”

  “But elves can fight too,” Lohrén replied furiously. “Our legions—”