The Vaticinator

by Namita Singh

‘darkness’ that the man talks about. I give these thoughts a rain check as the man starts explaining the exact direction in which we should head. It is not a straight path as far as I can see. The man advises us to mark our turns, so to be on the right path in case we do make out of the flames alive. Somehow, the mention of the ‘witch’s power’, which I am assuming is the scimitar, and the companionship of a spiritual therian on our side, has made the man understand the reason behind our braveness. He informs that the land is several miles away from here, making me mentally calculate the amount of time we shall consume. I have a bad feeling that we may not reach our destination on time. At least not on foot.

  After a short exchange of some more bitter words, with my father remaining calm as usual, we depart in the direction the man has pointed us to begin. We run on the permafrost, the signs of civilization now long gone. Soon, slight rays of light announce dawn. Knowing too well that we are far from the land of flames, father suggests we turn into leopards again. I am reluctant as it is still enough cold but I know that we’ll be faster. Now only twelve hours remain till Mikhail will summon the witch. We have to hurry if we wish to make it to land of lames within the allotted time. Not to mention, we need to be prepared for the hassles when we are near enough to the land of exile.

  The time passes by in a blur as we run with the speed of a blizzard through the snowy lands, our white leopards indistinguishable against the snow. We do not pause. The map drawn on the snow by the Nganasans is etched in our mind with clarity. It’s Aakir’s job to mark the distinguished lands that we cross so we do not face problem on return. Once we cross a frozen lake, the weather starts deteriorating. We do not stop, even when the cold becomes almost unbearable. There is no civilization on the way and the slight change in the direction of the fleeting sun rays is the only indication of the time passing by quickly.

  The darkness starts falling as dusk approaches, but we never pause in our step. Only when an extremely cold environment, the temperature of which I cannot be certain, envelops us, we slow down a little. It is getting darker and colder. Our steps completely halt when a blizzard ensues. The darkness guarantees a late time, but since yesterday I have come to realize that ‘late’ is actually not as late as in our daily lives elsewhere in the world. I optimistically hope that it is not seven pm yet.

  The terrible cold and altered vision due to the raging environment convinces me that we are close. Father changes back in his human form, his naked body shivering madly as he grabs the bag from Aakir and starts taking out his clothes to cover himself. Dreadful, I flux myself too. The cold is unbearable even for my leopard. But not in the thousand years I could have imagined the onslaught of the cold breeze onmy naked human body as I flux. Teeth chattering, hands shaking, I grasp the clothes thrown my way and put them on, while trying to make my spine not crumble under the added pressure of the shivers.

  These last eleven days have been near hell for me, despite the comfort of the cruise before trekking in the snow. Not having Neal’s aura around has taken a hefty toll on me, making me an anxious mess. Therefore, it has become tenfold easier for me to ignore the harsh environment, because I optimistically believe that through this hardship, I’ll be greeted with Neal’s sight. That’s a heavy incentive. The thought is enough to keep me going.

  “Come on.” Father says, his voice muffled due to the hefty blizzard. He starts running again.

  Not at all appeased by the slight warmth offered by my clothes, I run behind him. The sight of the dark woods, covered with snow, makes me leap with joy.

  “This way.” Aakir says, leading the way towards the woods.

  “Josh, drink the repellant.” Father orders.

  I hesitate for a moment and then I think, what the hell. I take the bag and pull out one vial, the clear liquid undergoing turbulence in my shaky hands. I crash the tip clumsily and drink the contents. It is mostly tasteless, with a peculiar after taste. For a moment, I do expect something vile to happen, but then I drop the thought and continue inside the woods.

  The change is instant when we enter the sparse vegetation. It is darker, more so than it is already on the outside. The inside is protected from the blizzard ensuing outside, so that is a plus point. It is slightly warmer. Enough warm to not make me feel excessively uncomfortable due to the cold. We run through the stretch, not bothering to take in our surroundings, not that much of it is visible. We are running out of time. I can feel the change in our vicinity as we run. The warmth increases, making me feel at complete ease for now. I know the comfort won’t last for long. Within minutes, we broke through the forest on the other end. What greets us is something I am not prepared for.

  “Holy shit.” I curse, removing my muffler quickly. Imagine walking from a refrigerator to a sauna.

  “This is it.” Father says, removing the heavy clothing too.

  I look in front of me and see…nothing. Just plain snow extending for miles and miles. And as it is getting darker, I cannot be sure if there is any red haze there or not. I contemplate fluxing my eyes into that of an owl, but give up the thought, deciding it will not be entirely necessary. My vision is hazy but I am certain that it is only snow that lies in front of me.

  “Don’t remove your clothes.” Father says to me as I started removing my jacket.

  “It’s hot.” I complain.

  “And it’ll get freezing cold in a moment.” Aakir says, “Uncle is right. Just keep wearing your clothes.”

  We walk onto the open space towards…well, I cannot see anything. However, after twenty to thirty steps, I pause. Father runs a hand down his face, his condition not looking too good either. I do not know the exact feeling coursing through me. I just know that I feel the urge to dip in ice water and crawl under a blanket at the same time. I can feel sweat droplets lining on my forehead, yet I can feel my spine shivering.

  “You guys feeling okay?” Aakir asks in concern when father and I do not move.

  “No.” father manages, “I feel nauseated.”

  “I feel…hot and cold at the same time.” I mutter, discomfited. “I have a very strong urge to remove my clothes right now.”I gasp, my breath coming in short taps. Just that much long sentence has me breathless. Jesus.

  “That’s the repellant talking. Even that is supposed to make you warm.” Father says, heaving slightly.

  Fantastic, I think in sarcasm.

  “Give me the bag.” Father says to Aakir.

  Father, his hands shaking, grabs the bag from Aakir again. He fumbles with it for a moment when I feel a blast of heat strike us. I stumble and father curses. I have an excessive strong urge to turn around and run away. But I hold my thoughts. Neal is somewhere out there, only a slight distance away from me. I resist the urge to foolishly call out to him. I really doubt if my voice will come out enough strong even if it is wise to shout his name.

  Father takes out a plain looking scabbard that I have never seen before. He pulls the scimitar out of the covering, breathing deeply. He remains standing for a few moments and I find my feet retreating a few steps towards the woods behind me. I immediately halt, realizing my unconscious intention. The sudden jolt makes my head spin a little, strangely the cold enveloping me again. My sight turns into a haze as I try to get my bearings.

  “Josh, you should remain beside the woods.” Father, looking slightly better, says.

  I am feeling too dizzy to form a coherent reply.

  “Is he going to be fine?” Aakir asks dubiously as he grasps my swaying form.

  “Let’s get him to the woods, he’ll be better there.”

  The thirty steps back to the woods is something I don’t recall. The next thing I really notice is that I am hunching beside a frozen tree, my teeth chattering, yet my forehead sweating under the excessive heat that seems to be radiating from my body. Father and Aakir are cowering over me, with concern filled expressions.

  “I am fine.” I say numbly. “Time?” I ask, my breathing still shallow.

  “Five past
seven.” Aakir says, looking concerned.

  I panic, “Just go.” I say to them, knowing too well that I cannot accompany them. Definitely not like this.

  Father nods. “Stick to this tree. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Father and Aakir exchange a glance. They drop the bags beside my shivering body and start briskly walking away. I watch their retreating forms and for quite a distance I can see them. And then suddenly…they vanish. I blink, grasping my muffler. Now the only thing I see is snow. I cannot see father and Aakir anywhere. As a violent shiver racks through my body, I jolt back my attention to myself, my breath puffing into white mini clouds in front of me. Most of my breath just seems to catch in my throat, freezing dead inside due to the raging cold outside. But the warmness continues to assault me as well.

  Now that I completely focus, I realize that my insides feel too warm, almost to the point of discomfort. Somewhat like what I went through my maturation process. I just hope I do not start heaving. On the outside though, I feel excessively cold, the slight windy atmosphere proving to be almost unbearable. At the same time, I feel occasional blast of hot wind which is irksome to the point of making me feel nauseous. I draw my legs close to my body and bend my head so it rests above my knees. I wish the position helps in some way, but it only makes me feel dizzier.

  I do not keep track of time, a thing I instantly start regretting after I feel an eon pass. Hardly aware of my surroundings, I start counting in my head, knowing that I do not have the strength to move and take out my watch from the bag, eventhough the concentration required for counting is an added stress too. This is ridiculous. I feel so useless; inept. I simply remain put, letting the time fly by, and letting the environment take a toll on me.

  I am simply sitting, my head bent down and my legs drawn up when something snatches the collar of the woolen jacket I am wearing. I am so surprised that I end up stumbling as the figure in the front raises me to my feet. The shock freezes me for a long moment as I stare into the dead eyes in front of me.

  “What the fuck.” I rasp out, the wind suddenly feeling heavier.

  “Exactly.” Jermaine says, his hold tightening on my collar, “What the fuck?”

  Seriously? I especially drink a discomforting liquid so nobody is able to sense me. Even then, I am the one who ends up falling into Jermaine’s hands. Fate cannot be more ridiculous.

  Instinctively, I feel my hand fluxing. The heaviness on my body makes the simple natural way of fluxing a never-ending task for me.

  “The milieu doesn’t seem to suit you.” Jermaine seethes. He pushes me sideways with force unfathomed to my weak form. I find myself rolling on the snow, my body painfully contacting the frozen earth. After endless rolling, I grasp the snow. He has thrown me towards the direction of the land of the flames, exactly the last spot from where I had turned back. The heat spontaneously envelops me, making me gasp at the sudden change from cold to hot. I shakily try to pull myself up, trying to spurt out the snow that I accidently took in my mouth.

  Jermaine is standing right beside me as I get up. He cocks his head to the side, glaring. In one fluid motion, which escapes my notice, he grasps my throat. My fluxed hand holds his arm, the extended nails of the talon digging in his skin. But he seems unbothered, making me frown dizzily.

  “You seem to have lost your strength.” He says, mockingly smiling, “And your aura.” He hisses, “I’d be convinced you’re a spiritual therian if not for your pathetic state. How did you get rid of your aura?” he asks, shaking my body with the hold he has on me. The movement makes me nauseous, if nothing else.

  “Fuck off.” I manage to rasp out.

  The words are not out of my mouth before Jermaine is throwing a heavy punch on my nose. I stumble back, falling on my buttocks. Jermaine bends down to be eye level with me, “How did you get here? What is your intention here?” he asks, frowning at me. “Tell me!” he shouts when I simply stare at him. I can feel a little wetness on my lips. I taste the distinct iron taste of the blood. I am still extremely astounded to see Jermaine here. Out of everything, Jermaine? What happened to summoning the witch to the Ninth Realm? What happened to Jermaine visiting the Ninth Realm along with the Occultist? Is the Occultist even there at the Ninth Realm? Are we late? The nauseating rumbling gets overwhelming in the pit of my stomach.

  “Answer me.” Jermaine snaps when I still refuse to budge. His question makes me realize that I have been zoning out. “You brat-” he curses, grasping my forearm tightly.

  A burning sensation instills in my arm, immediately making me snap my arm at him. I look down and through the haze see him burning my arm.

  Literally burning my arm.

  I yelp, taken aback by such attack. The arm of my jacket and undershirt sizzle and I push Jermaine away with as much force as I can muster. It is enough to make him stagger backwards, releasing his burning palm on my forearm. I immediately cradle my injured arm, spewing curses in mind. The push doesn’t make Jermaine falter though. He is back at me, forcing me to sit on my knees. With an injured arm and a bleeding nose and a pain wrecked body with the insistent heat and coolness, Jermaine receives minimum resistance on my end. It is in that moment I notice that my fluxed arm is no longer a talon. Unconsciously, due to the burning pain inflicted on the same arm, I have fluxed it to my human hand.

  “Now answer me,” Jermaine snaps at me, landing quite an unnecessary punch on my jaw.

  “Ow.” The grunt escapes my lips unconsciously as I try to stop the vertigo feeling instigated by Jermaine’s punch.

  Jermaine holds the cuffs of my collar antagonistically. If not for his ‘support’ on my collar, I may just collapse. I feel as if he is the one because of whom I am even managing to remain erect. “Answer me, before I lose my curiosity and wring your neck, you bastard. What are you doing here?”

  “Go to hell.” My voice comes out as a whisper.

  Jermaine gives me a twisted smirk, “I am already living it, boy.” He grasps my burned arm, making me loudly hiss. “And you sure as hell are welcomed to join me.” With that, a cracking sound echoes around me.As a loud, painful grunt escapes my lips I realize what he has done.

  The pain feels numbing from where he is holding my burned and broken arm.

  “I can spend my whole existence this way.” Jermaine jeers, putting pressure on my abused arm. I feel my eyes watering with the mind numbing pain consuming me. The sudden urge to hurl makes me gasp, but I refuse to fully surrender to the anguish.

  And suddenly, to add to my torment, an unexpected shocking movement makes my heart skip a beat. But in the next second, a reprieved sob silently breaks through my lips, the tears finally leaving the confines of my eyes. I watch as the blade protruding through Jermaine’s chest twists a little. Jermaine’s already dead eyes turn even soulless as he unblinking gazes at me, the pain consuming him keeping his mouth agape, yet no word escapes his mouth.

  “You’re a fool to think that I was here alone.” I rasp out, tasting blood and tears on my tongue.

  Jermaine, in shock, looks down at his chest at the protruding sword passing right through his dead heart. Only, the heart was very much alive once in contact with the scimitar and now it’ll cease to beat for good. Slowly, Jermaine’s body starts disintegrating into the white smoke. For a frightened moment I feel that he is still alive and simply teleporting, but in the next moment the white smoke spreads radially in a heartbeat. The movement is like a bomb explosion, creating a strong pulse of energy radially striking the surroundings. The pressure throws me off my guard; whatever is left of my guard anyway. I stumble on my knees, falling backward. Father’s face comes into view as I feel myself falling sideways. Father is beside me in an instant, preventing me from falling head first. I try blinking rapidly, but it only makes my vision blur more.

  “Go, now.” he says urgently to someone behind him. Through the blurry vision I see him throwing the scimitar towards someone who I can only assume is Aakir. The figure instantly vanishes. It confuses me fo
r a moment. Not sure if my mind is playing tricks on me or Aakir just teleported from the spot. I hear father gasp, probably at being devoid of the scimitar. But somehow, he manages to get up. Panting, he grabs my upper arms to lift me. I instantly hiss as the pressure is put on my right, injured hand. But father doesn’t halt and instantly lifts me over his shoulder. I gasp at the sudden movement, my head revolving uncomfortably as the blood rushes to it. Staggered movements soon lead us to the edge of the woods, where our bags are scattered. My eyes roll in the back of my head as father dumps me down on the permafrost. Through the haze of pain, cold and unbearable heat inside, I manage to scout father as he in turn scouts my injured arm.

  “D-dad?” I say, my voice quivering.

  “Sshh. Don’t talk.” He says, “It’ll be okay.” And just as he says it a similar blast of energy, in the form of a pulse, hits the area. It is the same kind of radiating energy, as if exploding from a bomb, like I experienced just seconds before at the cessation of Jermaine’s existence. Only, this one is much, much stronger. So much stronger, that the force of it makes me whip sideways as even father stumbles, not able withhold the strong pulse. The trees above us groan as the wave hits them and they sashay loudly, making most of the snow atop fall on us. Blast of heat and sharp snowflakes hit us square on and I find myself reeling on my spot. The pulse is enough strong to cover at least a few kilometers, I think. Too strong, too impactful.

  Father raises himself, gasping for breath, as he crawls towards me. Leaning against the bark, I find myself turning towards the land of flames invisible to me. With the mind blowing pain eating me in different forms, I yearn for Neal’s aura, over anything else right at this moment. And with that thought, I see two figures appearing in the distance. Too much exhausted and in too much pain, I do not even feel a sense of dread at the approaching figures. Too tired to really put up a fight in this pathetic state of mine, I simply close my eyes and wish the oblivion be less painful than what I am experiencing. I do not realize when I lose consciousness.

  23.The Reunion

  The moment I get control over my conscious mind, I immediately find myself internally smiling at the comfort level I am at. More so, at the undulating waves surrounding me and pleasing me to zenith. I sink lower on the bed I am at, which is not as comfortable as I would like it to be, but the idyllic aura surrounding me makes up for it. The appeasing equanimity and the dulcet feeling make me ignore the discomfiture. Instead, I find myself focusing on the affable aura that is proving to be more than satisfactory for me.

  It’s been too