Dark light, p.9
Dark Light, page 9
part #2 of The Shinigami Tomes Series
“Very well.” The vampire hunter panted, trying to recover from the great orc’s abrupt show of strength. “You see, I am in search of an orc-shaman.”
“An orc-shaman? And why would you ever meet an orc-shaman? They are very dangerous, you know. Even amongst us orcs, we fear and respect the ones with the gift of magic. There are three remaining orc-shamans, and they all live together in a small hut on the southern shore of this island.”
Luiner noticed a hint of fear in Buzur’s tone as he spoke about the fearsome shamans. “I need to speak with them. Please, Buzur, lead me to them.”
The two stood immobile as a fresh breeze coming from the blood sea crossed the dry land around them.
“Fine . . . For Master Luiner, I will do it!”
They smiled at each other, and then the elder man followed in the steps of the great hunter orc while the yellow snake lay lifeless in a pool of blood.
But something was different.
As the two unlikely companions began their journey south, the daylight revealed that a few inches from the orc’s lance, which had pierced the snake, lay a small shard of shiny material, which dimmed as the day came to an end and the blood moon of Blacuir once again regained its place as ruler of the sky.
“How long until we reach the hut?” The old man puffed as he chugged a bottle of juniper liquor handed to him by his new orcish friend.
“Ah! You humans tire easily. Anyway, this island is small. We could have been there already if we had crossed the orcish settlement. But I fear that not every orc has my regard for humans. Anyway, I was wondering why your name sounded so similar to that of the great Lord Shinigami—Lord Turiner!”
The unexpected comment from the hunter orc caught the elder man by surprise. “You know, this is the first time since I got here to Blacuir that someone has mentioned this to me. But you are right: the similarity is not coincidental.”
“So? C’mon! Tell me the story!” pleaded Buzur after a few moments of silence.
“Well, what is there to tell? When Lord Aras helped me find my safe haven here in Blacuir, he suggested I get a new name. You see, vampire hunters in the New World are an outcast order, though a respected one. I think that our time spent hunting vampires has fuelled all sorts of feverish dreams and conjectures in the fervid imaginations of the farmers and the general populace of the Kingdom of Watir. Anyway, when I came here, Aras was with another Shinigami—”
“Lord Turiner!” interrupted Buzur, who was now completely enthralled by the elder’s story.
“Precisely. I liked how it sounded. So, when Lord Aras asked me what name I wanted, Luiner just came out naturally.” The vampire hunter smiled gently as he handed the juniper liquor bottle back to its owner.
“I see, I see . . . Well, we each have our own secrets, I guess!” The orc giggled as he emptied the remaining liquor into his wide mouth.
“I remember stories of how orcs used to prowl the Kingdom of Watir before the Niss dynasty came to power and how your kind feasted on countless humans as they destroyed villages and burned cities to the ground.” Luiner smiled maliciously as he glanced at the great orc.
“You are brave, old man, to speak such words before a hunter orc.” The orc grinned. “But is it really a sin? My kind hunted down humans for centuries like you have hunted down deer with your bows and arrows. Why are our actions a sin and yours not?”
Luiner stopped walking as he tried to explain what he thought was an obvious difference. Because human lives matter! That’s why! is what the vampire hunter was about to say, when he realised the fallacy in his argument. Were deer not as capable of loving each other as humans were? If anything, those beautiful creatures were much more peaceful and less malevolent than humans. He stared at the orc before ending their philosophical discussion with a deep sigh and a shrug as if to say, I don’t even know anymore.
“Ah, look! Over there! Beyond that willow tree!” yelled the orc as he pointed towards a rounded hut where the horizon mixed with the blood sea.
“Yes . . . yes, I see it! And that is one big willow tree. It’s the first leaf-filled tree I’ve seen since I landed here. Though I must admit that I have never seen a willow tree with violet leaves!”
“Oh, that’s because it’s not your average willow tree. That is Mic Hur, the magic tree of Salie. It is said that its roots bathe in the cursed blood of a terrible fiend known to the orcs as the putrid king!” uttered Buzur proudly, happy to show the mighty artefacts of his kin.
Putrid king? May he be related to the ghoul king? I think I came to the right place, Ulir!
As Luiner walked past the great willow tree, an eerie voice resonated in his head. I know what you seek, vampire hunter . . . and I know your true power . . . light magic! The voice kept repeating the same phrase over and over, becoming louder and louder as the elder man walked towards the circular hut.
“We are here, Master Luiner. Are you alright?” inquired Buzur, who began to worry as he noticed the cold sweat on Luiner’s forehead.
“Yes . . . quite well. Let’s get inside,” panted the elder man.
“Let me get in first. I think it’s safer if—”
“Get in, the lot of you!” thundered a deep voice from within the hut. The door suddenly opened, and a cloud of thick smoke exited the macabre dwelling before they entered.
The hut was decorated with a myriad of skulls of different shapes and sizes. A bonfire burned in the centre of the otherwise empty abode, and around it sat three naked white orcs, whose eyes were shut and whose faces now pointed towards the two unwelcomed guests.
“White orcs,” let out Luiner, feeling a mixture of awe and horror at the sight of the three grotesque creatures.
“All true shaman-orcs are white, for they are touched by the omnipotent Creator while in their mother’s wombs. The others are just pretenders, who gained the power of magic by corrupting themselves and committing taboo by eating the leaves of the Mic Hur!” declared the shaman who sat in the middle.
“Great shamans . . . this man has come from far away to ask of you—”
“Shush, you fool! We know all too well what this ‘man’ wants. Get out!” spat the shaman to the left angrily as he pointed his wrinkled, nail-less finger towards Buzur.
“What?”
“I said GET OUT!” the fierce cry of the shaman elicited a macabre, energetic wave which sent the hunter orc flying out of the dwelling before the door slammed behind him.
“Now, you seek the wisdom to unlock the true power of the demighoul . . . the true mighty power which he holds and which could potentially bring death and despair to all of Oar?” The dry voice of the shaman who sat on the right echoed throughout the small hut as Luiner hesitantly nodded his assent.
“Hm . . . I can give you what you seek. The information you need is written in blood on this scroll right here,” muttered the shaman in the middle as he placed his hands inside the crackling fire and pulled a black, completely unburnt scroll from the incandescent cinders.
“I guess you won’t give it to me for free, right?” challenged the grinning Luiner.
“You are right . . . we will give it to you in return for a favour!”
“What favour?” replied the elder man quickly.
“You must exit this hut and slay the hunter orc who brought you here. Carve out his heart, and bring it to us,” said the shaman on the left coldly as a malicious grin appeared on his pale, wrinkled face.
“No . . . Why would you ever ask me to do something like that?” asked the terror-stricken elder man falteringly. “He is one of your kind! Why would you want me to do something like that?”
“The Mic Hur demands it!” thundered the shaman in the middle as the fire crackled and blazed fiercely within its circular boundary.
“Well,” uttered Luiner vehemently, tightening his jaw muscles, “you can tell Mic Hur to do it itself if it wishes. I am not going to kill someone . . . a creature who has shown me nothing but kindness . . . because a bunch of naked lunatics ordered me to. No matter the voices you try to implant in my head, I know who I am, and I won’t follow your orders, let alone the orders of a tree!”
“How dare you?” cried the shaman on the left hysterically, spitting everywhere as his eyes narrowed into tiny fissures. Then, opening his eyes wide, he stood up from the rotten log upon which he had sat. “We implant no voice in anyone’s head, but you can be sure that you won’t have a head before you leave here! DIEEEEEEE!”
The shamans’ unearthly shrieks filled the room as the heavy punches inflicted on the door by Buzur, who was trying every possible way to break it down and get back in, resonated throughout the hut.
As the shamans threw themselves against the elder man, he said, “I’d hoped that I wouldn’t have to use my powers . . . Ah . . . it seems I will have to take that scroll from your lifeless, cold hands. Light Magic: Sun Blades!”
Buzur stepped back as a blinding light filled the room and radiated through the logs of the entrance door.
“What is this?” muttered the hunter orc as he hesitated before walking towards the eerie door. Sword in hand, he tried once again to push the door open. This time, with only a slight touch, the door unlocked itself and opened creakingly to let the orc through.
“What . . . what in the name of all the orcs has happened here?” stuttered Buzur as he quivered while stepping into the blood-drenched dwelling of the shamans. Shreds of meat were scattered everywhere, and the shamans’ white skin and muscular arms, now strewn around the central bonfire, had been ripped to smithereens. Thrust across the wooden logs of the hut were crystal-like blades that emitted a soft white light which bathed the three disfigured severed heads of the orc-shamans. The heads had been impaled on three rods made of the same crystals as the myriad white blades surrounding Luiner.
“What have you done?” asked the horrified orc falteringly as he stumbled towards the three headless, skinned cadavers of the orc-shamans. “These shamans have protected my people for two centuries! They were sacred to us! And you defiled them!”
Luiner stood in silence, holding in his hand the bloodied scroll—his reason for coming to Salie. “They wanted me to kill you and carve out your heart to—”
“Impossible . . . and . . . and . . . even if that were the case, you shouldn’t have defiled them in such a devilish way! I shouldn’t have trusted a human!” The great hunter orc sighed melancholically before continuing. “Since I was a small orc, they always told me that my fascination with humans would bring darkness to my clan . . . and now . . . they will blame me for this. The shamans were feared, aye, but they were also respected . . . and for good reason. They used the sacred Mic Hur’s magic to protect us. We are few . . . and now, we are defenceless against the Shinigami nobles, who have tried to hunt us out of Blacuir for decades. If that happens, I don’t know what will happen to us . . . I don’t know if . . . if I could live with my sins . . .”
Luiner stood in silence. The glowing crystal blades dimmed as darkness crept into the hut, and the last shy flame of the bonfire died out.
“Buzur . . . I . . . I cannot control my magic when I unleash it . . . it was developed to fight vampires, so the great alchemists of the Light Capital worked day and night to develop powerful light spells.”
Outside the hut, rain began to fall from the cloudy sky, and tiny droplets started to drip from the leaking roof. The old vampire hunter extended his hand amidst the smoke rising from the wet charcoal as he tried to touch the distressed orc. “I will protect you . . . In case the clan turns against you, I will protect you. You can come with me to Deadlidon. I need an assistant for the cause I am fighting for. Blacuir is going—”
“Leave,” muttered the orc, turning his head away from the inquisitive look of the old vampire hunter and stepping towards the dead orc-shamans.
“Buzur . . . please. Surely, you must understand why—”
“I said leave!” The roar of the orc echoed amidst the now-thunderous storm pervading the island. His mouth opened, revealing his menacing long fangs to the human.
For a second or two, they stared each other in the eyes. They understood each other’s anger. They understood each other’s hearts. But, as often happens in times when rage tricks reason into hiding, they forgot to put those moments into words. And, so, the human slowly exited the hut. Scroll in hand, he pulled the black hood of his cape above his head and slowly began walking under the heavy rain towards the northern shore, where his boat was docked.
As he passed the violet-leaved Mic Hur willow tree, a voice once again spoke in his mind. And, so, you bring death once again. You murderer of innocents. I know your sins . . . the murdering of the southern vampire’s royal household . . . I know it was you. And, now, you kill my faithful servants . . . So, let me get my revenge by revealing the truth about your future. Luiner stopped his stride in midair as his hands trembled and his body became paralysed at the hideous voice, which knew so much about him and was about to reveal to him his cursed future.
“Don’t!” was the one word the old vampire hunter whispered before the voice thundered in his mind. You shall fight in the great war to come. But let me tell you . . . because of you, the alliance will fall, and the traitor Shinigami will destroy your home once and for all!
Chapter 21
The Three Obelisks – Oserin
“Yes, these are definitely the Three Obelisks all right!” The woodman giggled as he gazed at the sky-reaching towers before him.
“Keep walking,” replied the Saint Mage coldly as he glanced at the she-elf following silently beside him. “Mathis, right?”
“Yes, my lord.” The young elf spoke softly as she stared down at the sand beneath her.
“Hm . . . it’s a nice name. You are a white elf, correct?” continued the sorcerer as he walked through the ponderous shade of one of the obelisks.
The elf nodded in silence.
“Well, I guess you know who you are and what I did to your people . . . Tell me, Hiu, what have I done to the great and noble race of the white elves?”
The question took the woodman by surprise. “Well . . . well, you have killed their king and enslaved them at the Ice Castle. The males you have used to create your own personal army, while the she-elves . . . well, you have—”
“That’s enough, Hiu.” The Saint Mage grinned maliciously as he stared at the white elf’s face, ready for a reaction to the painful remarks of his underling.
The elf kept walking, expressionless, when Rani stopped.
“Why, you!” muttered the Saint Mage ragefully, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her towards him. “You’ve had that empty, expressionless stare since we left the slave encampment! I am tired of it! I freed you on a whim! You realise that? And do you realise that you will soon join the other female elves in the underground brothels of Oserin? That slave master was probably about to sell you to one himself! I am sure you have heard the rumours of how I became so rich, other than being one of the most talented sorcerers in all of Oar!”
The she-elf stood in silence as her eyes met Rani’s. Her long hair danced in the wind that blew across the sand dunes.
“Say something! Are you happy? You have one life! One life only! Do you want to kill me? Eh? Here! Take it and end me!” Rani unsheathed a golden dagger and laid it in the elf’s pale hands.
“Master Rani!” cried the woodman as he dropped his backpack and approached his master, pleading for him to see reason.
“C’mon! Take it! Take it!” The Saint Mage’s uncalled-for foaming rage did not come as a shock to Hiu, who was used to the repentine mood swings of his master. Rani forcefully closed the she-elf’s hand on the hilt of the dagger. “C’mon! C’mon! Why not? Why are you not killing me? You could be free right here, right now! Hiu won’t stop you! I will even give you a travelling stone to travel back to the New World!”
They remained in silence as Rani tightened his grip on Mathis.
“Master, you are hurting her. Master—”
“I . . .” The she-elf’s candid voice interrupted the pleading woodman. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. It is not for me to judge others’ sins. You . . . you have saved me, my lord . . . I have only to be thankful, even if it means going to the Enlightened Capital’s underground brothels.”
For the first time, the she-elf’s carnous lips formed a smile as her pure, naïve expression was reflected in Rani’s eyes. The grip of the Saint Mage weakened as he stared, speechless, at the creature before him. Lost in her grey eyes, he sheathed his blade.
“Master,” uttered Hiu happily as he grabbed his backpack and pointed at the door of the first obelisk, “we are here!”
Rani gave one last look at the elf before turning away and heading towards the building’s entrance.
“Come!” spoke the Saint Mage slowly, signalling to the she-elf to follow him. “Light Magic: Blessed Key!” murmured Rani as he pointed his index finger towards the lock of the golden door. Suddenly, the door unlocked and swung open, allowing them to enter.
They walked right into a giant silver hall with a fountain at its centre. The fountain took the form of an oak tree, and instead of water, melted gold spurted from its bronze spouts.
As they headed towards the statue, a figure covered from head to toe in a golden vestment welcomed the guests. “Lord Rani, we were expecting you. I am Tel, messenger of the Oak Gods. Lord Runian awaits you. I see you have brought company. Underlings and whores can wait in the bronze room on your right!”
Rani stared at the cloaked figure before him and then glanced at Mathis’ shy expression. “Hiu, you and Mathis wait for me outside. Set up the tent in the shade of the second obelisk. I will come as soon as I finish here. And you,” sombrely uttered Rani, turning his attention to the messenger as his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darkened, “the next time you move your lips to speak to me will be the last time you have lips!”
The menace of the Saint Mage caused the messenger to tremble. Mathis stood in silence as she witnessed the great mage lord threatening the emissary in what she thought was an attempt to defend her honour.
