Mortal gods, p.24
Mortal Gods, page 24
“We have no choice but to go over the mountain pass,” Wyland said, “to subvert would be to take even more risk in Khamari territory.”
“What about the sea? If we go south, the port is safer than the mountain?” Avari said.
“The voyage would see us through The Narrows. Pirates have grown bolder in recent times. We cannot take the risk.” Wyland replied promptly.
The Narrows was the thin stretch of river that ran up the east coast of Oraan and the West coast of Hyule in mainland Thaurel. It had become notorious for smugglers and pirates in recent times since the scale back of the Hyulian navy.
“We both know what dwells on Gondoliaro.” Pauper retorted harshly.
“Got to agree with Pauper, can we really make it over that mountain?” Avari interjected.
Wyland shot him a powerful glance, making him back off from the conversation.
“What’s on the mountain?” Arianna asked openly.
“It’s not on the mountain, so much as under it.” Avari replied.
“Gondoliaro harbours an evil that has tainted everything upon it. The beasts are wild, the soil poisoned and the route baron. Not even the sun can lay upon it.” Pauper said brutally.
“We have no other choice but to make the climb, you know this Pauper! You can join us or stay here!” Wyland snapped.
The growl was more akin to crashing thunder, but it ripped forward from the mouth of Pauper, met with an unwavering resolve from the old man.
“If we avoid the Mouth of Gondol, we need only concern ourselves with the greybacks.” Wyland said, easing back his tone marginally.
“Gondoliaro’s trail walks straight past the Mouth. You know what could happen. She will sense our presence.” Pauper shot back.
“This is the path we must take, if you will join us we would be glad to have you, if not then this is where we part ways.” Wyland said drawing unsympathetic eyes towards both Avari and Pauper.
Avari nodded his head in agreement but Pauper snorted in an anger that threatened to boil her skin.
“Very well, let us gather haste then, to Mount Gondoliaro!”
Winding paths of gravel and dirt, crunched beneath the feet of the companions in the dry heat which baked down upon them. For as far as the eye could see, there were fields of green, yellowing grass that had worn down to the soil with a trail on darkened dirt. Travelling north from Redbridge was akin to poking a nest of hornets and waiting for their singing embrace. Ever since he was a child, Pauper had always warned Adrian not to travel any further north than the settlement of men because of the dangers that lurked there. More specifically, the Khamari which lurked there. Since the end of the Daemon wars, Waanchi and Zahra had been at war, each leading skirmishes into the others lands in the east and west of Oraan. But the most danger came just north of Redbridge at the mountain pass of Gondoliaro, where both tribes often met and often killed. Still in the Neutral Zone, it mattered little when there was a direct line of access to the enemy. Most men had learned quickly to give the Mountain and its pass a wide berth.
Adrian had fallen into a routine stumble amid the drone of quiet conversation that rumbled on around him. He heard little and seen even less. In his mind he pictured those terrible red eyes and what they meant, who they belonged to. He was living inside his own thoughts; each one deepening that overwhelmed feeling that had engulfed him since he learned his fate back at the farm. He pondered his apparent identity as an Elemento and what it meant. He didn’t know. They were known to be real, people spoke of them like they had been a secular group but since the Daemon War they had become something of a myth. From what he had gathered from the tales, they were said to be extinct.
“Sorry.” Adrian said, coming to the shoulder of Wyland.
“What for?”
“In the farm.”
“No worry, Adrian. When you are ready, you need only ask.” Wyland said.
Adrian quietly pondered his words before he replied, “Tell me about the Elemento?” He hadn’t anticipated how uncomfortable speaking the words would make him. Just the mere mention of the name aloud made him feel like there was a dirty secret about to be aired.
“The Order of El… Since the great war the Order has been greatly diminished and stands a false shadow of its former self.” Wyland said.
“People said they were all gone.” Adrian replied.
“Not quite.”
“The Elemento didn’t show up to the final battle in the Daemon War.” Arianna joined the conversation.
“The Elemento did not scurry away in fear before the Battle of Perulda. They were massacred.” Wyland corrected.
“How could an army of magic men be massacred?” Calling them magic men was something Adrian had heard Pauper do. In fact it was the popular Khamari vernacular when referring to the Elemento. He didn’t know why, but it felt easier than saying “Elemento.”
“The Black King commanded vast hordes from the depths of the Void. Hundreds of thousands. It was just too much, even for the Elemento.” Wyland said sorely.
“But they were supposed to be a power like no other.”
“A power like no other in this Realm, Adrian. The Black King is not of the Realm. The Void harbours the most monstrous incarnations OF evil that have ever existed in this realm and beyond. When Gaius conquered the Shadow Realm, the prison became ever more horrifying and unstable. It wasn’t long before the Arks were utilised to see these things pour forth. Brothers, who fell in battle, did not stay slew. Their bodies were taken by the daemons that have no physical form of their own. They turned on the living, without conscious or feeling. A limitless army with no fear, no remorse, and no mind if their own.” Wyland stopped to gather his breath. “In the end, the Elemento fought bravely, striking down thousands upon thousands of the Necuratu, but in truth, it was a battle they could not prevail in. For every ten they stuck down, twenty more rose in their place, guised in the body of a fallen friend.” Wyland said sadly.
“Necuratu?” Adrian asked.
“Apologies,” Wyland chuckled, “It means unclean spirit in old speak.”
“Were you there?” Arianna asked tentatively.
“I was not. None who fought that day live on. Gaius’ exertions, in defeating the Elemento were what allowed the alliance to break his ranks at Battle of Perulda the following day. I fear if he had engaged the whole alliance on the same field, we would not be having this conversation today.”
“Didn’t you say Gaius was the Heavens’ General?” Adrian asked.
“Yes. I do not know what made him engage the Elemento prematurely. Perhaps it was a mistake, or perhaps there was something grander at work we failed to recognise.”
Adrian sat quietly for a moment pondering over his words.
If a God could make a mistake like that, then surely I won’t be expected to be infallible.
“It’s hard to fathom a God who makes mistakes.” Adrian shared, finally.
Wyland never replied, but instead gave a look of unknowing to the young boy.
“The Heir… who was it?” Adrian asked tentatively.
“King Septimus Khalan” Wyland said proudly, with a reminiscent smile etched across his face.
“Why was he chosen? Was he special too?”
“The King of Hyule was a brave and noble man, a great warrior. But skill with a sword is not enough alone to defeat a God in battle. I don’t pretend to know Tristain’s reasoning for his choices, but I suspect that a rulers natural army bore some weight.”
“I don’t have an army.” Adrian identified quietly.
“Not yet.” Wyland said confidently. “The foot of the mountain is just ahead. With some luck we should clear the mountain in a days’ climb.”
“Listen well…” Pauper said loudly. She moved to the front of the group and turned to face them. “The mountain trail will be a brutal path; the weather alone will test your resolve. But be mindful that the elements are not our only foe. Upon the mountain, the frail borders between the Khamari tribes do not exist. We move quickly and quietly. Should we run into a patrol, you say nothing and avoid eye contact, understand?”
“We don’t actually know where we’re going?” Arianna said.
Wyland stopped mid turn and walked back towards her and Adrian, who stood side by side.
“The Order of Ell on the northern shores of Oraan.” He said.
“Why?” She asked.
“Because he thinks I’m one of them.” Adrian blurted out. The earlier angst he felt about revealing it to her was gone in an instant. Her expression was long and shocked, but it faded quickly.
“Nothing was by accident, remember?” Adrian said, with more distain in his voice than he intended.
“An Elemento… Adrian...” Her thoughts were similar to that of Adrian’s when he first heard, minus the denial.
“Are there even enough Elemento left to make a difference?” She asked.
“My dear, a handful of Elemento are both more devastating and more cunning than an army of any other warrior that will answer our calling.” Wyland replied. There was a steel like confidence to his words.
“I didn’t see their signature on that treaty of yours.” Adrian said.
“They did not sign.”
“Then how do you expect…”
“They will answer the calling.” Wyland said confidently, radiating a defiance that seemed born from necessity.
Wyland pushed the pace and stalked away from the pair. Adrian thought he had grown tired of their questions, or maybe he just didn’t have the answers. Ahead was the daunting shape of Mount Gondoliaro. The small dirt path that had been woven into the soil of the yellowing grass crawled into the tree line of dense sentinels with wrinkled bark and sharpened branches. The trees were tightly packed together, but not altogether overly numerous, leaving just enough sight to decipher their end at the other side.
And then it was there. Beyond the trees, the mountain stood. As they gathered at its foot, its vast unkind glare assured a swell of fear rose in Adrian. A thought came to him in the moment, a thought that seemed both unfair and daunting. This was only the beginning.
The slopes of the mountain seemed generous at first, but the higher they eye climbed, the more it soured. The cliffs screamed vertically, covered in a sheet of snow from a few hundred feet up, before disappearing just above the clouds.
“Mount Gondoliaro.” Wyland whispered under his breath.
The group approached the trail, all except Adrian. He stood still for a moment and gazed at the slopes. His ear was perked by something. It was a whisper, but not that quiet. The voice was so softly spoken and inviting. It gripped his ear, as if carried to him by the wind.
“Here…” The voice whispered to him.
It was a woman’s voice, so delicate and full of promise. It felt nurturing and alluring. His mind was a haze, forgetting even the slightest murmur of life beyond the voice. Adrian beat through a brush of the un-groomed bush that seemed out of place, but he never questioned it. The needles lightly cut at his hands leaving murmurs of blood to seep forward. His eyes feasted upon a gaping hole in the foot of the mountain. Like an open mouth that awaited the quenching release that only fresh prey could provide. The blood dripped from his open cuts, drank by the soil which grew softer. Adrian searched for something, he didn’t know what, but there was something he wanted – no, something he needed.
His thoughts were single minded and focused with no room for interruption. From the darkness of the hole, his longing was satisfied. He felt as though he knew how to desire nothing else but the woman who stood before him, half swallowed by shadow. Her flame hair seemed as though it was woven from the finest silks in all of Thaurel, emblazoned with jewels that dangled over her bare stomach and her porcelain, pale skin was fit for royalty. Beautiful, penetrating green eyes fixated on him, like shining beacons of hope. They dragged him forth, inviting him in. There was a cackle of noise that threatened to interrupt this moment, but he blocked it out. He wouldn’t let anything ruin something so perfect. The woman was so gentle, everything about her was perfect. When her gaze broke from Adrian’s, the brash noise he had noticed before grew a little louder. The gentle warmth of her face was shattered by incredulous wild eyes burning with a fury that matched her hair. Adrian felt the neck of the leather armour being tugged furiously, but he fought it, he wanted to go deeper, he wanted to stand with this woman. He tried raising his hands to reach her, but they were constricted to his side.
“ADRIAN!” Arianna’s voice was a brutal puncture to the manic silence that had engulfed him.
There was a second of realisation and then a moment of terror. The soil he stood in so soft and tender, was around his neck, sucking him in. He wrenched his left arm furiously, feeling it less submerged than the right, but still he struggled to free it from the sucking mud. It was a cold embrace, like death had come to demand his surrender. A sharp stab of pain shot through his neck, but it was followed by an almighty wrench which freed Adrian’s left hand. He reached back lethargically and felt the claws of his keeper wrap around his arm tightly. The woman hurtled forth a blood curdling screech, but still she refused to venture forth from the mouth of the darkness that spilled outwards.
“Pull!!” Wyland cursed as the noise of the world began to return.
Adrian’s torso was just clear of the mud, but his body was lethargic and energy sapped. His head dropped backwards to see the horrified face of Arianna, but instead of that shared emotion, all that tickled through Adrian’s mind were her massive green eyes.
“Move back!” Wyland said harshly to the pair.
He looked at Adrian cautiously, his eyes furiously examining every facet of his body. The old man lay a gentle hand just under Adrian’s chin, moving his face from side to side. Furiously, he slapped Adrian’s face. Like an electric shock, he screamed away in the opposite direction, but when he realised he moved closer to the darkened hole, he snapped back to his original place on the dirt. Pauper stood growling at Wyland as the old man returned to his feet, a nonchalant look etched across the wrinkly features of his face.
“Well, I doubt it’ll be the last of those he receives!” Wyaldn snapped.
Adrian tried in futility to regain any resemblance of lost composure, panting wildly. “What… in the name… of gods… was that!?”
“That, my foolish, young companion was exactly what I told you to avoid! That was The Mouth of Gondol!” Wyland replied and yanked him to his feet.
“She was so…”
“Beautiful? Endearing? Alluring?” Wyland interrupted Adrian, his voice tainted in annoyance.
“Who is she?” Adrian said quietly, fearing further scolding. Wyland’s gaze flittered around all the companions methodically before coming back to a rest on Adrian.
“She is a natural disaster, not of this realm.” Wyland said harshly.
“She was not happy to see you!” Arianna said, looking to Wyland. The old man paused for a second before answering,
“Yes, the captured are rarely enamoured to their captor.”
“You put her there?” Adrian asked.
“Come.” He said simply, setting off towards the cusp of the trail.
Adrian took a long look to where the woman almost feast upon him, before joining the others.
Upon Mount Gondoliaro’s trail the threats of nature which had almost swallowed it, were a lesson in the barron nature of the path the walked. The mountain pass lay battered by weeds, encroached by the plants and tall grass on either side. Wyland meticulously surveyed the area.
“What’re you doing?” Arianna asked. Her toned varied from annoyed to confused, but the old man never answered.
“Ah!” He yelled, a tinge of joy. He beat around the area of grass from a moment then beckoned the trio forward, revealing a stone tablet written in a foreign tongue.
“This is why she dwells in the depths of her own abyss.” Wyland said, tapping his staff on top of the stone.
“Okay… So what does it say?” Adrian asked.
“Well it used to say “In memory of the Garalds”, but alas, time seems to have stolen its message.” The old man said, “However I do know the tale quiet well. Come, let us begin.”
“I’ll go with Pauper.” Avari said quickly, bounding ahead to catch up with the Khamari.
“Take these.” Pauper handed Adrian and Arianna the robes from her sack, then went on to lead the way, twenty paces in front of the group. Adrian almost protested about the heat, but a quick glance at the snow covered peaks of Gondoliaro stayed his tongue.
“In times long ago, entwined with my own I regret to say, there was a family of brothers who, all too eagerly, under took any quest that came to hand. The Garald brothers had become something of a famous troupe throughout Thaurel, meandering from the mainland to the Freemarches and here, Mount Gondoliaro. They under took any task, any feat considered impossible. In many ways, they were first mercenaries of their time. It was upon this Mountain they set about the banishing of a supposed witch.”
“The woman confined here? They did that?” Adrian asked.
“No, sadly not.” Wyland replied. “The Elemento confined her underneath this Mountain.”
The air began to grow more brisk, with a slight chill starting to work its way into Adrian's hands.
“The brothers were veteran travellers, each endowed with a special skill that made them an asset to the journey. Reme, the eldest possessed inhumane strength, unmatched by neither the Khamari nor the Barbarians of old. Silias was the second born; blessed by a wealth of knowledge to render any puzzle a mere formality. Lenko was the fleet footed scout of the family. He was so fast it was as though the wind itself could scarcely lay a touch on him. And lastly… Young Ivan.” Wyland lingered on his words.
“What could he do?” Adrian asked curiously, still navigating upwards on the rough trail as it twisted and shot off on crooked directions.
“Young Ivan was… well, very young and yet to discover his talent. None the less, despite the fact he contributed little, Ivan was brought along on every quest. The family had vowed to never to be apart.”
