“Skath, Skath! Wake up! Don’t die on me! I still need you around! You swore to me you’d help me, so you better not die on me you bastard!” I hear Gareth yelling at me, while my world shakes. I hear a sharp thwack and my eyes snap open.
“Put me down you oaf,” I say beating on his chest, “Stop shaking me! And don’t you dare slap me again.”
He puts me gently on the ground, and the relief in his face is palpable as he says, “you’ve been out cold since last night, and when I awoke your breathing was so slow, that it looked like you had stopped breathing.”
“So, your best idea was to shake me, and beat me conscious?” I say tenderly touching my still stinging cheek.
“I’m no medic, my ma is, but that doesn’t mean she has taught me anything,” says Gareth flustered at my ungrateful response to his critical medical attention, “I can’t believe I got all jumpy for you of all people. Don’t you think that now we are chummy. I’ll still come to beat your ass on occasion.”
“Honestly if you didn’t the village boys might get bored and do it for you,” I say laughing, staring begrudgingly at the morning sun. I had missed out on another of my father’s dinners, and I know my mother isn’t one to leave leftovers.
“That is true. I don’t think I’ll enjoy it though, as I no longer despise you like I did,” says Gareth turning his face away from me, “I know we have been on the same team for a long time in some ways, but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t envy or resent you. Martog’s maw what am I saying.”
“It’s all right big guy,” I say playfully punching his hip, as his shoulder was out of reach for me, “I think I know where you are coming from.”
“I’m just so powerless and knowing that you still did all you could and even succeeded despite being… well don’t take this the wrong way,” says Gareth lifting his hands as if to blunt his next words, which I found surprising as he never did that in the past, “you are just so pathetic from an Unadeamy standpoint. You are small like an Unadeamy child, and yet you still stood and took what I afflicted upon you with silent determination. I hate feeling weak, as I need to be strong, not just for Uzuri, but for my wish.”
“So, because I seemed to be better than you, you had to put me in my place to feel strong,” I say looking around the fire pit to see if a skewer had somehow survived the night, as my stomach is absolutely empty. Unsurprisingly, there were none left, and I made a mental plan to stop and gather some edible flora on my way home.
“Yes, no… argh, why is it that talking to you just puts me off,” says Gareth shaking his head returning to his stump, “If even the weakest of the village is stronger than me, then what hope do I have of achieving my dreams.”
“You mentioned a wish,” I say sitting next to the blubbering brute.
“I guess I didn’t ask you to help me entirely for Uzuri,” says Gareth shaking his head, “I can’t believe I am telling you this.”
“Well, we have been friends, no acquaintances, perhaps that’s even too strong a word, for what a few days,” I say getting up with a yawn, “Also, it’s not like I was trying to rescue Uzuri for just her sake. I had her and myself convinced that if I saved her from your father that we’d both be accepted into the village, which may have been why she took the escape failure so hard. In a moment, both our chances of finding a home, freedom, and a chance to go on living was squashed.”
“I don’t think that is the only reason Skath,” says Gareth frowning at me, “why does it seem like you are pushing her away now, when just a day ago you seemed to be looking forward to being by her side?”
“I have learned things about her and sacrificed so much, that if we free her I will not be able to be by her side, as my path will take me across the world, and eventually to a death that I may have chosen, but is still not my own,” I respond to Gareth, “Her destiny is apparently one that could change the world according to my father, and I don’t think either of us will be able to follow her when she claims her destiny.”
“What else do you know?” asks Gareth putting both of his meaty hands on my shoulders almost shaking me again, “what else can you tell me.”
“Honestly, that is all I know, and I only have ideas as to where I can continue to find answers,” I say, “but I need to ask you something. I have also learned that if we free her, we may bring oblivion to the village, as for some reason she protects the village. This is something my father told me, and apparently is why he refuses to help me save Uzuri, as he promised my mother that he wouldn’t bring harm to the village. So, if saving Uzuri somehow brought harm upon the village would you still want to help her?”
I feel Gareth’s hands go limp on my shoulders as this revelation seemed to beat into him. I watch him scratch his face, and hunch over looking at the ash heap. I could almost see the conflict in his mind by watching his face. He slammed his fists into his lap, and he looked back at me with the same determined look he always bore on his face.
“When you were strung up, you said that the village was in breach of its own goddess given laws. Laws so strict that death would be their punishment,” says Gareth his hands clenching rhythmically as he spoke, “the village is already bathing in sin, and if we must atone for breaking our covenants with our goddess so be it. If torturing someone innocent brings protection and peace to the village, I don’t want to live under that sinful shield. I’d be damned if I did, and never be able to receive my wish.”
“You brought up your wish again, what is it? I know we aren’t friends necessarily, but if somehow, I’m helping you achieve it, I think I should at least know what I’m working toward,” I say trying to comfort Gareth by putting a hand on his arm. I always viewed Gareth as this lumbering tyrant, that thought with his muscles more than his head. Now, I see him as a pious boy who just wants good, even if his impulses are sometimes misguided.
“A village chief if he served faithfully and virtuously when he dies and goes to the goddess and it is said he may ask for a wish,” says Gareth clenching both his hands together doing what he can to avoid my gaze.
“Men do not really have a complete soul,” explains Gareth, “the goddess tried to rescue humanity from Martog, but could only do it partially by restoring the souls of those most like herself. Women can create life, which is in similitude to the goddess’ power of creation itself, which made it possible to restore them from their fallen creation. Men are the very semblance of Martog, we can only participate in creation as Martog did forcing himself upon the goddess, which makes our souls half formed.”
“So, your wish is to have your sour soul fixed?” I ask wondering why I was never told these things by my mother. Then again, she also ditched the religion of her mothers, in favor of my father’s religious leanings, which are minimalistic at best. I only know as much about village lore as I do, due to listening to the walls in the alleys.
“Almost,” he admits, “as when men do die and go to be judged of the goddess if they are virtuous, they can have their soul completed by the goddess and they are returned to life to be reincarnated into a female body. What was stolen by Martog is restored through the goddess’ love. All women, go to the goddess’ embrace and go on to be goddesses themselves, men on the other hand must be tried. If a man dies and is found unworthy, he must repeat life as a man, unless he loses his life to the trials of Martog. In years where more men are born into the world, it means that the village must atone for the accumulation of sin, as why would more men be born if not for this reason. To get rid of sin, boys born in excess to the number of girls in a pass when they reach adulthood not selected at the Amolacrimae are chosen as sacrifice to Martog. The souls of the sacrificial boys are then used as conduits for the village’s sins, and Martog destroys the selected boys’ souls, devours their bodies, and drinks the blood of the sacrificial boys during the trials of Martog. These offerings placate Martog’s wrath and erases the sins of the village.”
“That’s horrible,” I say flabbergasted at learning the extent of what the village’s faith can do.
“My wish is to stop the trials, so no more souls are lost. If the village must atone for sins let the sinner atone in life not in death,” says Gareth raising a fist to the sky, “it isn’t fair to assume that several boys deserve to die for the village because collectively in previous lives they may have made a few mistakes to many. We can’t remember our past lives anyway! We should be able to approach life with a clean slate and try again, isn’t that what a merciful goddess would want!”
“Honestly Gareth, you continue to surprise me,” I say not believing what I am hearing, “so even if Uzuri is freed before the Amolacrimae, you’d still subject yourself to the trials?”
“I would! I don’t care if I lose my soul! If I can just have the chance, the chance to save the souls of those that come after me, enduring the trials will be worth it! Uzuri is just the beginning of those I wish to save!” says Gareth almost yelling now, and he beats his chest as if to confirm his passion to the heavens.
“Honestly, now I want to go through the trials with you even if we save Uzuri,” I say with a chuckle, “you make me feel bad that even when I tried to save Uzuri it was for mixed reasons. You on the other hand saw her as just the first step to creating positive change for your people.”
Is this what it is like to have a friend. I know Uzuri is my friend, but to actually be with someone and talk about your dreams and ambitions side by side. I wonder if one day Gareth and I will be able to sit like this and instead of talking about plans and schemes, we can just sit and enjoy some skewers and talk about the unimportant yet significant things of life. Could we one day as adults be enjoying a breather as we joke about the goings on in our lives. Unfortunately, that too may be something I’ll never experience as I don’t think I’ll be in Unadeam for much longer.
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Gareth smiles when he hears my words and almost whispers, “then you will be the first who would willingly come with me. You are the first person to take my dream seriously, and not tell me it is a foolish desire not worthy of even asking the goddess. Those I call my friends mock my dream; they won’t do it to my face but none of them feel that the goddess will even hear me.”
“I’ll tell you what, if we free Uzuri and my master doesn’t come for me, I’ll help you with the trials,” I say still chuckling to myself as I went and made another deal, and this time I’ll get nothing for my participation in it.
Gareth smiles at me and I see tears welling in his eyes. This oaf seems to be just a giant baby when he’s around me, but then again, I guess he can’t be anything less than what everyone sees when he isn’t with me. Am I the only one to actually know the real Gareth? The thought sits weirdly in my mind, as it’s odd to me how true it feels.
“Though, I’ll need to get stronger with magic before then,” I say still chuckling, to see Gareth freeze like a prey animal. He seems to turn white as snow as he bumbles and fuddles with his thoughts and next words.
“Skath, last night when you were flopping around on the ground,” he sputters, “I may have accidentally tossed the gloves in the fire when I took them off your hands…”
I immediately started digging in the ashes. I kept digging and digging finding nothing. My breathing became heavier, my heart began to race. I brought one of my hands to my neck and that wasn’t the texture of my hand. I looked down and the gloves that had been removed and tossed into a fire, were back on my hands. Both Gareth and I jump as we both are taken aback by what we both could only guess were demon possessed gloves.
“They were in the fire, right?” I ask trying to pull the gloves off, only to have them resist me and crawl back onto my hands every time I gained some leverage to pry them off.
“Yeah, I watched as they sat in the blaze. Though I did fall asleep before I could see them turn to ash,” says Gareth joining my efforts to rip the leathery creatures off of me.
We yanked, pulled, tried using a knife to cut the gloves, and even used sticks to pry the gloves off my hands, but they didn’t budge or so much as show any damage. After several confuddling attempts we sit perplexed at these leeches on my hands.
“You don’t seem to be writhing in pain, so I guess they got what they needed from you last night,” says Gareth poking my hands with the charred remains of a skewer stick.
“I’m still in control of my hands, so that’s a good thing,” I respond still trying to wrestle with one of the glove fingers.
“That’s good, if you couldn’t control your hands that could have made so many things difficult… like taking a piss,” says Gareth acting kind of pensive as if his thought was deeply insightful.
“Why is that the first thing you think of?” I ask simultaneously sighing in exasperation while letting out a strained laugh.
“Almost pissed myself when those reappeared on your hands,” admits Gareth staring up into the sky, “and seeing as it is almost noon, I need to get back to the village. Have chores and a family meal to attend.”
I watch him slink away from me as he waves goodbye. The brute panicked and left me with these things.
“Good, I thought he’d never leave,” says a voice tearing my vision into the mist realm.
“What the hell,” I say trying to bring my vision back to reality.
“No such place, then again we seem apt to make it real for ourselves,” says the voice in my head, “now let us go and get a change of scenery, I’ve noticed memories of a waterfall that I wish to see.”
I feel my limbs move on their own accord, as if I’m a guest in my own body. I try to fight and gain control, but my limbs won’t listen. They don’t even feel like my own limbs anymore. I begin to struggle even more, but to no avail.
“Stop struggling, you’ll be fine just enjoy the ride,” says the voice again my vision darkening, “freeing your body up, means that you can completely focus on conversation.”
A fuzzy image begins to form in my mind’s eye, “sorry, brains though similar are all a bit different, I’ll have this ready in a second.”
I feel a jolt in my head and suddenly I’m no longer in utter darkness. I look around and I see a cave to my rear and a cliff in front of me. I walk toward the cliff and see water for as far as my eyes could see. Below me the water splashed upon a sandy bank that led into a green forest. I sat on the cliff face and listened to the sounds of the water and the breeze. Everywhere I looked, the black walls were nowhere to be seen. This is a world without walls.
“This is the place I died,” says the voice behind me, “honestly it’s a peaceful place, but I remember being so lonely and filled with regret.”
I turn around and see a man with wild dark hair that fell to his waist behind me. He wore a long white cloak of sorts, a glass looking object hung from his neck on a yellow cord. The tunic he was wearing was short and bore a design that seemed to be stamped on the fabric. The design resembled a hand lifting little people up. His pants were similar to Argentum’s, except they were blue in color, and made of a different material. My eyes traveled to his face, and I was surprised to see he was clean shaven given the state of his hair, and one of his eyes was just a socket in his skull. There wasn’t an eyelid, it was just a hole in his face. His solitary eye was the same amber color of Argentum’s but lacking his glow.
The man walked forward and sat next to me looking over the alien, but beautiful landscape with me. He put a hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged him off.
He laughed and continued to speak to me, “I guess an introduction is in order. I am Angtos, and you Skath are my grandson. Grandson to my beloved Arbha as well, which fills at least this memory given life with some joy.”
“How do you know my name?” I ask still on edge by this whole situation, “and how did you bring me here?”
“To tell the truth, you are in a controlled hallucination,” says my grandfather his hands placed in front of him as if trying to use his gestures to provide further clarity, “I’m using the essence in your body to manipulate your brain in such a way that you yourself are generating these images from the memories I have stored in my essence reservoir. Granted it took a little fenagling to adjust to your specific brain, but I think I have everything right. Also, don’t worry I won’t cause any damage that your soul won’t repair.”
“What are you doing to my body?” I ask trying to scoot myself away from my grandfather.
He chuckles, “don’t worry not a hair on your head will be harmed. I am here to offer you my assistance as I have heard the cries in your heart, well not exactly heart more like your limbic system. Anyway, I have spent some time downloading your hippocampus and I have a pretty good idea of the situation you face.”
“Limbic system, hippocampus, what are you talking about?” I ask, as all the words he speaks are gibberish to me.
“We will get to that at a later time, but for now I have peered into your memories and know that you desire to overwrite your humanity in favor of being a celandil,” says my grandfather taking a deep breath, “I’ve always enjoyed the scent of the ocean breeze.”
“You read my memories?” I say and I find it strange how often I’ve felt violated these last few days. I put my hands to my head and try to create even more space between my grandfather and myself.
“I’ve had to do many things to prepare for your future training,” says my grandfather getting up from where he sat and the whole landscape morphs and molds around us. I’m now seated in a chair at a small desk in a room with a black wall.
“Welcome to class young Skath,” says my grandfather, “I hope you read the syllabus, oh what am I kidding, the first day is dedicated to that anyway.”
“What is happening?” I ask looking around my new surroundings looking for escape. Not a single door or window marred the walls of the room.
“Welcome to Angtos the Bastard’s cram school,” says my grandfather, “Here you will have your mind and body sculpted, and your very soul honed to celandilic perfection! Well, as close as we can get given your bodies limitations, time, and how stubborn your soul is.”
“Can anyone just put on the gloves and experience this?” I ask still shellshocked from all that is happening.
“Yes, and no,” says my grandfather, “A human may feel like they are undergoing a psychedelic experience when they use the gloves. A celandil’s soul would probably fight the gloves and have no ability to fully experience them as they cannot hear the truth of reality. You on the other hand have the ability to hear and see the truth of reality, and your soul being similar in strength to a celandil’s but with essence that is slightly different granted me the ability to ease my way in and use both your mind and spirit to form this very intimate experience. Your essence is manipulating reality in a way to permit you to experience this.”
“So, because we are both of mixed lineage, we kind of resonate?” I say still incredibly confused by all that is going on.
“Basically, not quiet, but close enough. A passing grade for effort,” says Angtos giving me a thumbs up, “Also, you did great on your first homework assignment.”
“When did I do that?” I ask clasping my head in my hands in exasperation.
“Well, I had to purge the old essence from your body, so that new essence could take its place that was less tainted by your experiences up until now,” says my grandfather, “you survived so you passed. Congratulations! I’ve also been making a few adjustments to your DNA so that you are closer to a perfect mix of human and celandil, so if you experience growing pains, or perhaps changes in hair or eye color don’t be alarmed. I did what I could to preserve you the way you are, but I cannot be entirely certain that nothing will suddenly change dramatically.”
“You nearly killed me, and you did what with my what?” I ask my mind feeling like it is about to explode.
“Now let us continue,” says Angtos while white letters begin to appear on the board with small screeches, “I hate that sound let’s try something different.”
Suddenly the wall seems to collapse in on itself to reveal a glass wall overlooking a void. Liquid of different colors fly in from different directions to form a ball behind the glass. The different colored liquids swarm into each other much like insects swarming around a candle. From the orb liquid shot onto the glass forming words, and the outline of my instruction was written out before me.
“Every day we will engage in activities to strengthen you as a celandil,” says my grandfather pointing at various points on the glass wall behind him, “In the mornings we will begin by having classes about the lower laws of the universe, what some call the natural laws, as how can one force their will upon the tapestry of existence without first understanding the weave! Next, we will strengthen your body as honing the casing of the mind and gaining control of it will grant you further control of your soul! The evenings we will practice celandil techniques starting with internal manipulation, moving onto external essence control later in the course, finishing with inscription infusion techniques, and graduation will be the day you create your essence reservoir. We will finish off your day by purging your essence, so by the next day it will regenerate hopefully stronger. In addition, this forceful purge will be instrumental in breaking the essence flesh barrier that has formed through your essence submitting to your human half.”
“When will I have time to eat and be with family?” I ask still looking at the wall of colorful text and trying to see when I’d so much as get a breather in my grandfather’s schedule.
“If you do not pass the first part of celandil training, you will starve to death,” says my grandfather, “great motivation, I know, and as for leisure time, I’ll give you a day whenever you make good enough progress to qualify for a break.”
“So, this is the only way I’ll become a celandil and gain the strength to break Uzuri free?” I ask looking at the regiment I will be signing myself up for.
“Oh, and about the girl, I’m curious about her myself, so if you need a day to gather information, I’ll give you half days to do so,” says my grandfather smiling, “now my pupil, are you ready to begin your training… well after you speak with your parents about having to essentially disappear for days at a time. Don’t want them to interfere and cause us to lose instruction time.”
“I am,” I say still confused by everything going on around me, but my conviction is sure. This will help me save Uzuri, which means that I have to go forward no matter the cost.
“Good,” says my grandfather, “we start tomorrow.”
The images disappear and my sight comes in little pricks of light until the world in front of me seems to assemble itself. I rub my face with my hand and blink several times until the world around me comes back into focus. The roaring of the waterfall alerts me to where I am, and I fall to my knees hyperventilating.