Soulseeker’s Descent

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  “—were destroyed during the Times of Chaos,” Azuri interrupted him. “And we reproduce slowly. With only one chance to conceive every century, we cannot forge a population of fighters. Or do you believe we can defeat Mórgomiel with the ten thousand elves of Allündel, only a thousand of whom know how to fight? Must I remind you that during the Times of Chaos we lost more than a thousand? Even with the forces of the Gods added, Mórgomiel was able to resist.”

  “Now he is searching for the pieces of his armor,” Alac put in.

  “How do you know that?” Azuri asked, looking worried.

  “I was present when he regained his eyes. And after that, when he took his armbands and gauntlets. It was in Degoflórefor. We fought for the second time there. I almost put an end to him, but he got away and is still missing some pieces. When he has them all, he might turn out to be utterly invincible. That’s why I’ve come to you.”

  “The God of Light begins his petition,” Azuri said. “Let him proceed.”

  The elves were looking at Alac expectantly. They were waiting for a sign to recognize the God of Light who would win against chaos.

  “I need to know how to reunite the forces which united during the Times of Chaos. I know that the Gods joined their powers together, and that each one of us needs to summon his dragon.”

  He paused briefly to let the message sink in.

  “The powers of yesteryear must unite again to confront Mórgomiel.”

  Azuri stood up. “The Gods and their dragons will unite again,” she said. “And the Great Alliance will rise again as powerful as of yore. Let the summons begin.”

  “What must I do?” Alac asked.

  “Each god dwells in a different galaxy,” Azuri explained. “There is a way to find them.”

  “What way is that?”

  “The awakening of the dragons,” Azuri said and began to intone a melody. “Five dragons of power shall appear; five essential gods prepare the change at last. Five riders will enter the shadow of fear, five essences unite as once in the past. It is time to awaken the dragons once more, and their gods and the songs they sing, to face the evils of the universe as once before and unleash once again what the Times of Chaos will bring.

  “This is the Song of the Dragons. Carunthya, the corridors of the Gods and their dragons. That is where you must go, my dear Alac. You will find five portals, each one leading to each dragon. One of them takes you to yourself, you will not need to cross that one.”

  “Let the dragons awake!” Lohrén cried furiously. Uín took up the cry. “Let the dragons awake! Let the powerful beasts return! Let the powers of the universe return to defeat evil!”

  The remaining elves joined in the cries of encouragement, and together they sang.

  Five dragons of power shall appear,

  five essential gods prepare the change at last.

  Five riders shall enter the shadow of fear,

  five essences unite as once in the past.

  It is time to awaken the dragons once more,

  and their gods and the songs they sing,

  to face the evils of the universe as once before,

  and unleash again what the Times of Chaos will bring.

  Alac felt a primitive emotion rising in his soul, and he joined in the chant of the elves, as did Róganok.

  “The summons has been given out,” Azuri said with tears running down her face. “Let the feast begin. Let our guests enjoy an unrivaled banquet, the fruits of the labor of the elves, and may this food nourish them well enough to complete their mission.”

  “Will I be able to count on your support when the war breaks out?” asked Alac.

  “My legions are ready,” Lohrén hastened to reply. “Be assured that we are allies, Lord of Light, son of Lumibel, son of Sarc-Splelendor. In the end, we are all brothers. I am sorry if I insulted you earlier.”

  That said, Lohrén knelt before the god, followed by the other elves.

  “May the Light live and disperse Evil.”

  Alac smiled sadly and felt a current of unease. The little shepherd suddenly realized how important his mission was.

  Chapter XIX – A Finger of Light

  Life at the Holy Comment was delightful. The land, cultivated for years with love and respect, rewarded hard-working hands with plentiful harvests. Time did not pass for Lulita, who remained tall and straight; maybe thanks to her enjoyment of life and the way she looked toward the future with the passion of an adolescent. This state of mind, she shared with Luchy.

  The girl went to the observatory every morning and every evening. She took Rufus with her, together with the sheep and the ram they had bought from Don Dargos. She let her mind wander. She repeated her promise of love and faithfulness to Manchego to herself, no matter how many compliments she might receive from the lads of the village, both the nobles and the less fortunate. She prayed to the Gods that they might bring him back to her, safe and sound. Meanwhile, she aimed to keep both her sanity and the estate in good condition.

  She often looked at her ring. The stone shone all the time with a magical force. She kept the amethyst she had taken out in case someday she might want to give it to someone else. Hopefully, her daughter.

  The news of her engagement had run like a hen chased by starving coyotes. It was not enough to chase away her suitors. Quite the opposite, in fact. What nobody knew was the identity of the fortunate young man.

  “I always knew you’d get engaged,” Lulita had told her the morning Manchego proposed to her. “And that’s exactly what my little boy needs so he can defeat evil: a love to come back to.”

  Those words weighed on the girl’s conscience. She now felt responsible for the integrity of the universe, although what she wished more than anything else was that Manchego would come back unscathed so that they could get married.

  Peace in the Empire favored business and employment. The good progress of the crops allowed Lulita to hire a hand to help Tomasa in the fields and she was already thinking about enlarging the staff and letting Tomasa take over the administration. The big woman devoted herself to the land with all her being for hours on end under the intense sun. Luchy had lent a hand too, but her skills were more focused on the deals with the new traders who had arrived from the north.

  One evening, Lulita was serving the stew she had prepared. She devoted her days to looking after the estate, cooking, weaving, knitting, and keeping her weapons ready. If there was something she had learned in her long life, it was that war might break out at any moment.

  “There’s talk now of electing a mayor,” the lady said before they sat down for dinner.

  The broth smelt like heaven. Onions and leeks floated in the nourishing soup.

  “This time, I hope no wretch from Némaldon sneaks in on us,” Luchy said, nostalgic for those times when she and Manchego were children. “I’m so glad we’ve got over the economic crisis. San San-Tera is recovering.”

  “But only thanks to immigration, my girl,” Lulita said.

  “Have you seen the new statue of Alac? They didn’t get the face right!”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “They certainly didn’t, my girl. You’re right there. Manchego’s a lot better looking than that statue. I guess people imagine him in their own way. If they knew the God of Light was our own Manchego, they wouldn’t believe it. And he grew up here, in this land, with all of a grandmother’s love.”

  Rufus barked. Luchy fished the chicken carcass out of the soup and gave it to him. The dog gulped it down. The three said nothing more, sharing a comfortable silence for the rest of the dinner as they remembered the happy little shepherd. They missed him, but they knew he was doing the right thing.

  “Let me see the ring,” the grandmother asked for the umpteenth time.

  Luchy stretched out her hand and the lady admired the gem once again.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. How it shines! But how delicately. Like Manchego.”

  Tomasa came in like a hurric
ane. She left a sack of grain on the floor, propped against the wall. She was sweating profusely.

  “Come on, dear. Sit down and I’ll serve you your dinner. Here you are.”

  “Summer’s going to be the end of me,” Tomasa complained as she sat down.

  It was true, the heat was intense after a temperate winter. In these regions of the Empire, there was little difference between the seasons. Winter was usually rainy and summer very hot, but sometimes the weather was contradictory.

  Luchy was petting Rufus under the table.

  “Are you ready for tomorrow, my love?” the grandmother asked.

  “Of course. I’m a professional now. I was born to negotiate with traders.”

  “You’re right, my love. You certainly do have a gift. May the Gods go with you. I need you to buy some tamales. There’s a lady who makes delicious ones. That’s what we’ll have for dinner tomorrow.”

  “All right, granny.”

  After a short rest, the women got up and cleared the table, then went to cast their sorrows aside into the hands of sleep.

  ***

  Luchy left at dawn. Rufus leaped joyously and followed the girl to the barn to fetch the cattle. The animals still acted scared with the dog, but Luchy was sure they would soon grow used to him with his docile, gentle nature.

  The girl took a deep breath, enjoying the cool morning breeze. Dew moistened her ankles and the birds twittered. The magic of the ranch had returned. Eromes would be smiling down on her from wherever he might be.

  When she reached the observatory, the animals began to graze, and Rufus lay down on the ground. Soon, he closed his eyes. Luchy leaned against the Great Pine, just as Manchego had for years.

  The sun had not yet risen. She missed her parents and her siblings. She had not even been able to bury them properly. Sometimes she visited the land of her forebears, which was now an abandoned patch of sand, but she never stayed long, assailed by ghosts and suffering. She had cultivated some roses; it was her way of honoring them and letting them know she thought about them.

  One, two, three drops of light fell on her beautiful face. The girl smiled, facing the horizon to admire the first rays as they conquered the peak of the mountain. A serpent of fresh air insinuated itself around her body. In the sky, she could make out a lance-shaped cloud tinted with a rosy glow. The other clouds joined together to shape the smile of a courageous youth which brought tears to the girl’s eyes.

  “Breakfast’s ready!” she heard from the distance.

  Chapter XX – Ÿ

  It was one of the strangest things that had ever happened in Devnóngaron. Nobody who knew the history of the Wild Lands could tell of anything like it.

  After the exodus from Flamonia, some decided to get away from the ostentatious path the ancient empire had followed and continue more simply. The founders of Devnóngaron thought the nation might have been too ambitious and that it had been punished for that reason. These people, whose names were not recorded, searched for the subtle and powerful force of existence and led their people in the way of respect for nature, Mother, and the universe. They let themselves be guided by primitive knowledge without interrupting the flow of what was natural. It was said Mother bathed them in the gold of her wisdom and that this is why the Wild-born have golden skin. The true origin of the golden skin of the Wild People was unknown.

  They organized themselves in clans and allowed these to function independently. Mutual respect between clans was taken for granted, but sometimes there were territorial conflicts or else the alpha males vied for a dominant female, but that was very rare.

  Today, the history of this world would change forever. At night, for the first time in centuries, the alpha males of all the clans were gathering, summoned by a male who had been exiled and pursued by the forest spirits and then pardoned by Mother.

  The night was clear, free of clouds. The sky shone with an infinite scattering of stars.

  Balthazar said, “To reach the Nogard Taerg means a lot when the Ecnesse has been reached by Modsiw. Who here has acquired Modsiw?” He pointed at his chest. “I have.”

  The light of the fire made a dance of shadows on the Wild Man’s face.

  “Listen to me carefully, brothers: Mother has sent me.”

  “Show us, then!” cried some, protected by the darkness.

  “This very moment,” the shaman replied.

  From his belt, he took out a mixture of herbs that he ground in a mortar. Then he tossed the mixture over the flames and began to murmur a spell.

  A blue eye opened in the sky. It was that of Mother.

  “She can see you,” the shaman said. “She can judge you, and she knows that you have gathered here for the cause of Good. She understands that you are making a great effort, given that the clans have never united except for war. Now Mother is making a request of you. The Times of Köel and the Battle for Háztatlon are nothing in comparison with what is coming. The God of Chaos has been reborn and Mother needs all the help she can get to defeat him. Otherwise, everything you most love in this world will be destroyed, including Mother herself.”

  There was a heavy silence. The blue eye remained above, vigilant.

  “When will the great battle be?”

  “The great battle? It will be called the Times of Chaos. It will be a replica of the war between the Gods which destroyed more than half of them.”

  “If it is a matter between the Gods, what role do we Wild People play in it? Let the Gods deal with their own affairs.”

  “Yes! Let them deal with it!” others cried.

  “Mother and the Gods are not allied!”

  “You are wrong!” Balthazar shouted. “Mother and the Gods share the same origin. But that is the least of it. What is very clear is that this battle will affect us. It will unleash the darkest times in history, and you will regret it if you do not fight evil or if you join when it is already too late. Your children will be the slaves of evil. Your women will give birth to demons. There is no army more powerful than the Wild People united for a higher purpose. If we were able to win in the Times of Köel, we will win in the Times of Chaos.”

  Mother’s eye began to fade, the wind slackened. A deep fear came over the spirits of all who were there.

  “Nobody threatens Mother,” said one of those summoned.

  “Nobody,” another repeated.

  “Let the word go around. The Wild People will unite once again.”

  With a breath, Balthazar put out the fire and vanished.

  “Where did he go?”

  “The light…”

  “He is a very crafty shaman. There’s no doubt Mother sent him. Perhaps his soul is that of a forest spirit.”

  From then on, the man called Balthazar would become a mythical figure among the Wild People, who would refer to him as Mother’s emissary.

  ***

  The forest was dense with vegetation and dangers, but Balthazar, like any good predator, was not afraid. While he crossed it, he was thinking he ought to go back to Degoflórefor and convince King Fuifay to join the Great Alliance, but he was not sure it would work. For that, the governments of Gardak and Mandrake would have to be prepared. He was acquainted with King Mérdmerén and knew that, although it might be difficult to convince him, it would not be altogether impossible to win him over to the cause. Fuifay, on the other hand, was hostile; were it not for his powers as a shaman, he might not have gotten out of there alive.

  But before that, there were other matters to deal with. He arrived at the place indicated: a tangle of dead branches that formed a dark, comfortable tent. He sat in the center with his legs crossed. The moonlight filtered through the narrow cracks between the branches, creating a spectacle of silver rivulets.

  He took off his hood and took a deep breath, soaking himself in the elements of nature. He closed his eyes to communicate with Mother. Today, she would grant him more power than he had ever known.

  Through his mind’s eye there passed many images of his youth
—all of them pleasant—as well as his banishment, Eromes, and his death. He felt he was being invaded by an external force, a flow of blue energy that had conquered his soul. It was the essence of Mother. He felt at home, floating in that delight. He let go of the reins of his consciousness and let himself be driven by Mother’s will. He was left without breath, without thought. As on other occasions, Mother spoke to him not with words, but through a chain of images.

  He was flying over the clouds without wings, arms, or a body. He was no more than a consciousness wandering the world. He plunged suddenly downward and buried himself in the earth, where the seed of his spirit had been sown. Mother received him with open arms. She was a dark, black mass. Balthazar panicked when he felt the black mass holding him fast and not letting him go. He tried to extricate himself, wondering why he was being held. But Mother did not answer, and he knew he must be patient.

  But he was dying. This was the end, he was sure. Mother had decided to take his life for some purpose which only she understood.

  He felt his consciousness leaving him. He could see his inert body floating in space, illuminated by blue light. His black hair turned grey. He went on floating. Days, weeks, years, centuries passed without any change. In the real world, it might have been two seconds, but for Balthazar, the experience was eternal.

  From the depths of the abyss there issued forth several tentacles. No, they were not tentacles but the roots of the world, the universe. They were a fluorescent blue, the color of Mother, the color of the essence of everything. The roots coiled around his body until they covered him completely and then pulled him toward the abyss where there lay the essence of everything, nothing, and the eternal. And there, his soul was consumed.

  ***

  His consciousness awoke. He had neither body nor shape, he simply was. There was no hatred, joy, wishes, or needs in him; earthly emotions had died with his body. Now, as a part of the infinite and a part of Mother, he felt complete, fulfilled, eternally wise, present in everything and perfect in nothing.