Episode Four - Demon and Sorcerer

 

Part Eleven - Aurelia is Burning

The Boy had arrived back in Aurelia as the firestorm began. He wheeled his paksi driven cart into the stables and barely managed to unfasten the large birds before flames from above engulfed the building. He raced to the exit, but outside all he could see was a sudden panorama of infernal destruction. People and animals ran and screamed in chaotic fear as the once-bustling streets became a twisted maze of panicked crowds and crumbling buildings. The Boy shielded his eyes from the blinding light and choking smoke.
The paksi panicked and fled the stables, nearly running the Boy down.

He dashed back inside and threw open the cellar door. Several feet below ground he hunkered for what felt like hours. The explosive blasts subsided eventually, but he remained among the barrels of grain and cheap wine. From above he heard shrieks of pain and terror. He cried until his eyes ran dry. He collapsed onto the floor and prayed to whatever gods may listen.

The Boy had no family. He had no real friends. Born to the streets, he’d been alone as long as he could remember. Just one in a sea of urchins flooding the greatest and most terrible city in the world. He’d become accustomed to taking care of himself. He ran with some gangs from time to time, learning different schemes and tricks for survival, but he never stayed with any long enough to be fully accepted. When Saiku Lin offered him the task of smuggling Enin into the feast hall, the Boy was wary. The name Enin had only ever been spoken in fretful whispers by the other street folk. They  called him a warlock, a doctor, a killer, a charlatan, and a man of great wealth and power. He shared his name with a legendary boogie man that parents told their kids about to keep them in line. “Don’t stay out too late or Enin will get you” they would say, or “Eat all your greens, or Enin will come knocking at our door.” There was even a popular graffiti tag that could be found around the city from time to time, “Nine lives, evil, Enin”.
But the Boy knew that was all just talk, fairy tales to scare children.  Still, this man called Enin was bad news. Those who got too close to him were known to suffer for it.

When the Boy learned that he would be taking Enin away from the city he grew intrigued. He had to meet with the man and gain his trust according to Lin. Enin did not make himself vulnerable to anyone who may use it against him. The Boy spent several days with the sorcerer and saw firsthand what great wealth could buy. In Enin’s chambers the Boy was fed, clothed, and allowed to sleep on an actual cot. Enin put him in charge of his stables and even gave the Boy a key to his home. Often the Boy was left alone. He could easily have taken anything he wanted from the man. Gold, fancy foods, jewelry and other expensive items were strewn about Enin’s house as if they held no value.

The Boy worked among collections of statues, expensive silverware, ancient books, and items that were almost certainly magical in nature, but he took nothing that was not offered to him. He remained cautious to not even gaze for too long upon the accouterment of his master’s home for fear of bringing suspicion upon himself. A single candlestick from that house was worth more than all the coins the Boy had ever seen.

He planned to return to the house after delivering Enin, use the key to enter and fill the cart with as much as he could fit. Then the Boy would leave Aurelia forever. He was not sure where he would go. Perhaps he would journey to the lands of Sarazan or even as far as the fabled city of Ki Cedron where cats are sacred. The Boy liked cats. The further he got from Aurelia, the better, he figured. He could set up a small shop somewhere and sell the curios he’d gathered from the house of Enin. Perhaps he’d become a rich fat merchant in time.

Neither Saiku Lin nor Enin gave any indication of when the sorcerer would return, if ever. When the Boy asked what he should do with the cart and Enin’s magnificent paksi, the man did not seem to care.

“Return them to the stable, I suppose.” Enin said, as if he would never need them again.

The Boy knew that the man was insane. Wanting to crash a noble wedding in such a bizarre manner was clear evidence of that. He decided that whatever Enin meant to do was none of his business. He would do his job and return to the stables as ordered. If Enin ever returned to his home he would probably not even notice a small portion of his riches missing. Even if he did, the Boy would be hundreds of miles away by then.

The Boy never got to enact his larceny, of course. The moment he pulled into the stable, the sky exploded in fire and noise.

Now here he sat cowering in the basement.

He wondered when it would be safe to venture out. The muffled sounds of those above trying to escape the madness raining down upon them lessened over time.

The Boy crept over to the cellar stairs, unsure of what to do next. The paksi had run off so swiftly he could probably never find them, assuming they weren’t lost to the flames.

He considered for a moment that this could be punishment from the gods for his deceitful actions. The gods had never seemed to take notice of him before, though. This firestorm was something else. It was something bigger than the Boy could comprehend.

The Boy gazed up at the cellar door,  afraid of what may wait for him on the other side. The world could be ash for all he knew. He couldn’t stay down below forever, of course. His stomach began to grumble. What choice did he have but to open the door?

The room had grown noticeably warmer. There came a crackling noise from beyond the door. His eyes grew wide and every nerve in his body tingled. The stable must have caught fire! There would be no escaping now. He’d trapped himself.

Tears streamed down the Boy’s face as an orange glow emanated from behind the door, sharply outlining the wooden frame. In a heartbeat the entire portal to the world above bathed him in angry light.

He heard a loud CRACK! As the slats that made up the door burst downward and fell into the room in a clatter of smoke and fire.

The cellar door was now an open hole and beyond it the Boy saw darkness broken by a flickering glow.

Burning slats fell upon the wooden stairs. Soon the flames would engulf the passage, making escape impossible.

More frightened of being trapped than of getting burned, the Boy ran up the stairs, leaping over the fires wherever he could. Flames licked at his legs. Sharp, intense pain wrapped around him as the fire lit upon his clothing. The Boy nearly succumbed before making it to the top.

A dense cloud of smoke filled the remains of the stables. The boy raced, choking and crying through the fumes in a blind frenzy.

He fell to the ground some distance outside where the stables had stood, gasping for air.
When he could see again the world around him had turned mostly black. The wrath of the gods - if that be the cause- had struck just before nightfall. Enin’s house became a pile of cinder before the Boy’s eyes. All around people ran with buckets of water to save their own homes and businesses. The Boy sat in the ash filled streets of the burning city in shock.

“The world is ending.” he said out loud to himself.

“No.” a voice spoke from behind him. “This is just the beginning of the end”

The boy turned to see Enin towering above him.

Part Twelve - The Demon

The hill looked out over a clearing. Beyond that lay a forest and past it would be the city of Aurelia. Against the blackening sky Tula saw an orange glow and several streams of grey smoke pouring out over the horizon as the city burned.

“What I need you to do is hold my upper leg in place and push my lower leg back into the correct position.”

Tula sat mute, staring at the Witch.

“Do it, please. I cannot by myself, girl. I need you.” the Muck Witch said to her.

Tula looked down at the bird in her chest as if expecting it to chime in.

“Tihihi!” it chirped and said nothing more.

“Tula!” snapped the Witch. “You can do this. I saw your courage during the firestorm. I’m certain you can be brave for me now.”

The girl with a bird for a heart drew in a deep breath and straddled the Witch’s thigh with her back toward the woman. The Witch wore loose fitting trousers. The bottom half on the broken leg had been torn somehow during the storm. An odd bulge jutted out about halfway down her lower leg.

“That is my tibia, dear.” the Witch told her. “Take my leg below the bump- by the ankle is best. Pull it up like a lever.”

“But,” Tula said, “that will hurt you!”

“It will hurt even more if you don’t do it. Please. Tula Petek. Be strong for me. I am speaking calmly now, but I am in great pain. I can’t be strong much longer. Not without your help.”

Tula did as she was told. She reached down to the lower calf and pulled up gently with both hands.

The Witch gasped but did not yell.

The girl felt a sickening grind as she set the bone, but it moved slowly into the proper position. Soon the grotesque bulge was gone.

The Witch exhaled.

“Well done girl. Now we need to make a splint.”

“How are you so calm?” Tula asked her.

“I’ve been alive a long while, Tula. This is not my first disaster. Also, your work is not yet done. I need you to find some straight branches to make a splint. You can tear the remains of my trousers to tie it around my leg.

Tula followed her instructions and eventually the Witch’s leg was splinted. The girl found some water in a stream and brought it to the woman in a large leaf.

After a long drink the Witch spoke again. “We cannot stay here, but I cannot move.”

“Where else would we even go?” asked Tula. “The world has caught fire around us. It’s a wonder that any trees are still standing here. If we weren’t surrounded by marshland I suspect we’d be caught in a wildfire. Was that it? Did the world just end? A rain of fire and a broken leg? Is that all there is to it?”.

“No,” said the Witch, “most certainly not.”

“So then, what comes next? And when?”

“I won’t pretend to know these things. All I can be certain of is that your sorcerer has set an unstoppable wave of events into motion. He told you we have eight days until the very end. Given what has happened this evening, I believe him.”

“What can we do, then?” asked Tula, “A lost child and a broken Witch? If the destruction this Enin has wrought is unstoppable then what is the point of doing anything?”

The Witch wrapped her hands around Tula’s and said, “Dear girl. Nothing has changed. We have as much time and as much to do as we always have.”

“How much time is that?”

“The rest of our lives.”

Tula turned away from the Muck Witch, frustrated by her words. She inhaled deeply to find her senses overwhelmed by a sweet and heavy smell, like pipe smoke. Without turning she sensed a third party had arrived behind the Witch, appearing stealthily out of the woods.

“I am going to kill you.” spoke a voice that was not a voice. More than anything it sounded like the buzzing of a million bees.

“I know,” said the Witch, “but not today.”

The bird fluttered in Tula’s chest. Every instinct screamed at her to run as fast as she could, but instead she turned to see...it...standing behind the Witch.

It was smoke. No, it was darkness, like a piece of the night sky had been torn out and brought to the world. It shifted and flickered as if not meant to be and existed by force of will alone. It took the form of a man and within that form twinkled stars and galaxies. If Tula looked closely she could make out high cheekbones and an aquiline nose, but she dared not look closely.

“Girl,” said the Witch, “this is Kokaibel. He is my cacodaemon.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Tula said, her eyes to the ground.

“This girl lies.” spoke Kokaibel, “She could not be less pleased.”

“Do be polite.” the Muck Witch said, but to whom she spoke was uncertain.

“I’ve never met a demon before.” said Tula, “I thought you were supposed to reek of brimstone.”

Kokaibel chortled with a sound like shattered glass. “If we smelled of burning sulfur, where would be the appeal? No, child. Demons smell sweet. We are, after all, the angels who have broken free.”

Tula Petek had never feared anything the way she feared Kokaibel. Standing before it felt like being locked in a cage with a tiger. Kokaibel could end her without a thought and they both knew it.

She looked into the eyes of the Witch and asked, “Should we be running?”

“No point in it, dear.” said the Witch. “You could never outrun Kokaibel. It would be like trying to outrace the moon. Besides, He is not doing us harm at this time.”

Tula forced herself to gaze upon the strange being. The more she looked at it, the more human it...he...became to her eyes. His form shifted and blurred as if it were uncertain whether or not it should exist at all. But the more she wrapped her mind around him, the more solid he seemed. Kokaibel flashed bright eyes at her, followed by a radiant smile.

“Maegda,” he spoke, “what do you have here?”

The demon waved what may have been a hand in the general direction of Tula. “Have you taken a new pupil?”

“No. Kokaibel. I have not. Those days are past. This girl-”

“I am Tula Petek.” she interrupted before the Witch could finish. At the sound of her name Kokaibel’s smile split across his face like a tear in fabric. The Witch threw her hand over her own mouth as if to trap the words that had already escaped the girl’s

“...this FOOLISH girl,” said the Witch, “is of no consequence to you. She is simply a traveler who was kind enough to help me in my injured state.”

Kokaibel circled Tula like a predator. “Tula,” the demon whispered, tasting the name, “Tula Petek. What a deliciously ordinary name. I shall add it to my collection.”

“Beg your pardon!” said Tula.

“Those are the rules, girl.” the demon said, “Never say your own name to a demon. It binds you to them. Now you’re stuck with me. Just like Maegda here.” he gestured toward the Witch.

“I’m done.” Tula said.

“No no no.” Kokaibel demanded, “You don’t get to decide that. Not now. You’ve given me your name. Just handed it over like a present! I have you now. Like this Witch had me all those years. Except I won’t lock you up in a bottle. Oh no. I’ll keep you where I can see you. You’re a dangerous one, you heartless thing.” At that last bit Tula tugged at the flap of her blouse to cover the cage as best she could.

“I don’t care about you, demon.” said Tula. “If you are going to kill me or enslave me or whatever your plans are...then get on with it. Otherwise I have bigger problems than you. The world is ending and there is much I’d like to get done before that comes to pass. I don’t need some flickery shadow of hell hassling me too. I’m done. Good day to you.”

The Witch was unable to move due to the state of her leg, but Tula was nearly certain that could she walk, the woman would not have followed as she plodded down the hill away from her and the demon.

“You may walk away from me if you like, Tula Petek.” spoke Kokaibel, “But you can’t outrun the end of your world. Not without my assistance.”

Tula stopped, but did not turn around when she asked, “What kind of assistance do you offer?”

Chapter Thirteen - The Sorcerer’s Boy

“Did you not expect me to return?” asked the towering man.

The boy opened his mouth but nothing came out. He spun around at the ebbing chaos. His notion of taking for himself a small portion of Enin’s wealth had literally gone up in smoke. He had nothing. For all the Boy knew his contacts and acquaintances could be dead in the destruction delivered by the firestorm. Even the paksi had fled.

Enin surveyed the scene around him. “It is not easy for me.” He said with a face of stone. “Watching my home fade to dust. This sight does fill me with sorrow. But it is the way of things. It is inevitable. All things must end.”

The Boy croaked dryly, “You said that this was just the beginning. There is more to come?”

Enin’s expression shifted from a mask of granite to the smile of a man with a thousand secrets. “Yes, Boy. Much more is on its way. More than this world can handle.”

The Boy stood and wiped the soot away from his eyes.

“Come, Boy.” Enin said to him. “I have need of you.”

“Come where? If the world is ending, where could we even go? And why should we bother? Won’t it end all the same?”

Enin let out a sharp whistle and from the shadows loped two familiar shapes. The paksi stepped forward.

“Be silent and ride with me for a while, Boy.” the sorcerer said. “Neither of us should want for a companion in the times that are to come.”

He climbed upon the larger of the two birds and steadied himself by grasping the ruff of feathers around its neck. He nodded at the Boy to follow suit.

“Use the bridle only for guiding your mount, Boy. If you need to right yourself while riding, take hold of the plumage as have I.” said Enin.

“Won’t that hurt her?”

“Do so gently. Grasping the bridle sends confusing signals to the paksi. That might cause it to take the wrong course, or perhaps even throw you.”

The Boy clumsily attempted to ride bareback, but he managed and soon kept pace with Enin as they made their way out of the city.

A flood of people trying to escape the destruction caused by the storm of fire blocked their path along the road away from Aurelia. However, the birds were swift and maneuvered around the throng.

“That storm brought so much pain and ruin to our city.” said the Boy. “It only lasted a few minutes, but it destroyed so many homes, so many lives.”

Enin road along silently.

“What worse thing could be coming?” the Boy continued. “Where can these people run to? Where can we go? The forest? The marshlands beyond? I see black billows of smoke all around. Is there no part of the land untouched by this flaming tempest?”

“I bid you to be silent, Boy. I am in no mood to answer pointless questions.” said Enin.

“And I am in no mood to be told what to do.” snapped the Boy. “My whole life I’ve been wary of men and boys like you. Older, bigger, stronger. I’ve stayed out of the way. Tried to make myself small and unnoticed so as not to incur their wrath. I’ve been the servant, the victim. I’ve mostly hidden myself away from the likes of those who think they can command me and anyone younger or smaller than them. When hiding was not an option I would do as told just to stay safe. But no more. Things are changing.”

Enin fixed his gaze on the road ahead as the Boy continued to unleash.

“No one is safe now. Not me. Not you. Not the town guard nor the gangs. Not even Saiku Lin is safe. The sky itself brings death to us all. So I don’t need to heed you or anyone else. You cannot possibly be more of a threat to me than a sky full of flames!”

Enin glanced sideways at the Boy, but held his tongue.

“So tell me, oh great sorcerer, if there is nowhere left to run then why run? Where are you going? Why should I follow? What kind of destruction and what are we to do about it?”

Enin pulled his mount to a stop. The boy did the same. The sorcerer looked at him and said, “Past that forest, in the swamps is a force more destructive than the firestorm. There is a power so great it will plunge my whole world into darkness forever. It waits for me. If you choose to run away from the end of the world, then run. You won’t get far. The end is coming sooner than you know and when it happens it won’t matter if you are standing right here or a thousand leagues away. I am going to face that force.”

“Face it?” asked the Boy. “Then what?” If this force is all you say, what do you hope to achieve? How can you stop it from ending the world?


The sorcerer’s head fell back and he let loose a barrage of laughter. “Boy,” he said, “I do not intend to stop it..”

Enin shook the rein and his bird trotted on.

“I intend to release it!”
 

Episode Three - Void and Flame

 Part Eight - The Dark Beyond the Door

Enin brushed his fingertips against the light, feeling its presence. Waves of heat shot down his arm and into his chest, engulfing his newfound heart in a flame that did not consume. The light of indeterminate color flooded his eyes. The heat spread through his body like a fever.

“Stand.” came a calm and steady voice from above him.

Enin rose to his feet, expecting his head to meet the low ceiling of the cave. It did not. Had he been crouching needlessly all this time? No. He thought. The cavern had become much larger than before somehow, infinitely larger.

The ring of light began to fade.

“Who are you?” Enin asked the voice.

“Close your eyes.” It said.

“Why?” Enin asked, but did as he was told, asking “Who are you?” once more.

“Open them now.” the voice said.

Enin found himself standing on a precipice over a black ocean beneath the vast and moonless sky. Waves of shadow rolled softly beneath him, creating a gentle lapping sound.

Enin felt the ocean looking back at him, measuring him through and through.

“What are you?” he asked.

“Young one,” the voice spoke, “I am the rippling void, the thought unformed, the silence between universes. I am the ink that drowns light, the dreams that life forgot.”

“I am not young,” said Enin.

“That is the point you wish to argue?” said the voice. “I am older than anything with a name. You come seeking the yawning void that spans all reality and want to tell it that YOU are old?”

“No,” began Enin, “I beg your pardon, old one. That is not my purpose in coming to you.”

“Then say it.”

“Your emptiness,” Enin said, “I may seem young to you, but I am very very old by the standards of my kind. The islands from which I hail were once mountains, and I lived upon them at that time. As I reached manhood, I sought wisdom to help my fellow mortals. I wrestled demons and tricked gods. I uncovered the secret of eternal life and took it for myself. I tried to give it to mankind, but it was a gift none could accept. Humans are fragile things. Trying to grant them immortality is like pouring a volcano into a teacup. My first attempts were...unpleasant. Instead I sought to heal the sick and bring knowledge to the ignorant. I had earned longevity for myself. I believed that over time I could uplift others so they would be prepared to join me.”

“But you were wrong.” said the voice.

“Yes. Very wrong. Even those who claimed to want to live forever failed at taking even the first steps. For centuries upon centuries I brought what I had learned to the masses. And almost every time they garbled it, misunderstood it, or rejected it entirely.”

“Mortals can not achieve immortality. It would be a paradox. The fact that you stand before me now should be impossible. Yet here you are.”

“I pondered that for ages.” said Enin, “Why me? How is it that I was able to accept forever within my mind and my flesh when so many others could not? I struggled with this question. Ultimately I decided that I am the paradox. No longer am I bound by mortal laws because my existence now resides outside those laws.”

“You sound pleased with yourself.” said the voice.

“I am not, though.” continued Enin, “Yes, I am different from the rest of humanity. I have seen and done more than one can in a hundred lifetimes, a thousand lifetimes. Yet here I am. Alone. Tired. Finished.”

“So you come here. To this place outside of places in this time outside of time? To ask for what? A boon?”

“I suppose I do.” said Enin, “I need you to help me bring about the end. The people of the world tell the tale of Mur the destroyer. He who sucks life out of the world at the end. I know that Mur is simply a shadow of the true darkness. A shadow of you.”

“I see.” said the voice, “You can no longer die. The only way for you to end is to take your world with you?”

“Yes.”

“So you wish me to tear the realms asunder, set the air to fire, and devour the souls of all who breathe? All so you may die?”

“Yes. I wish this very much.”

“This is not an easy thing you ask.” the voice told him. “There are four pillars which hold me apart from your world. Each must be broken in turn...”

“Yes. I know.” interrupted Enin. “I know of the four pillars. I also know that they cannot be broken without the proper tool.”

“Little immortal,” said the voice, “you want to see me unleashed upon the world? You would have me freed from the dark beyond the Door? You choose to be my servant, my harbinger, my herald?”

“If that is what I must do to silence my own mind, then yes.”

The surface on which Enin stood rumbled. The black ocean waves rose to a tumult, crashing and slamming against one another and splashing against the precipice. Their substance was not water, but something colder, darker, and much much older.

Out of the waves rose an object, a shard of darkness in the vague shape of a blade. Blacker than black, the blade drank in what little light existed in this dim place. It floated gently upward over the roiling sea. Without thinking, Enin grasped it like a sword.

“I give you this splinter of my being. With it, you will pierce the pillars and sever their bonds to creation.”

“And then you will come into the world?” asked Enin.

“Yes.”

“And then finally there will be silence?”

“Yes. Now go.”

The ring of light appeared once more over Enin. Before he could form another word, it swept over him.

White light flooded Enin’s eyes as the sound of the waves suddenly ceased, replaced by a low murmur.

The white blindness slowly faded, and Enin began to see shapes and the low rumbling noise became the voices of a crowd.

“Where did he come from?” “Who is that?” “Is this the entertainment?”

In time the voices grew louder and more plentiful as Enin’s vision returned.

He found himself standing in the wedding hall between the columns of Maj and Mur, now decorated with ribbons and candles. Dozens of aristocrats pranced about in fancy clothes, drinking and chattering. A circle of them had gathered around Enin.

“Are you the conjurer they hired?” asked one.

“He looks too grubby.” said another, “Are you completely certain that he isn’t some vagrant who simply wandered in?”

“The guards would not allow that.” answered the first party-goer. “Besides, this is the custom to appear like a hedge mage. All the great entertainers do it now!”

A third reveler, a man in a black suit with a purple sash, indicating him to be the bridegroom spoke, “You there. Hedge mage! Perform a trick if you wish to be paid.”

Enin’s wits returned to him. He realized where he was and what was being assumed of him.

“You all speak too much!” he spat, “Insipid twits, every one of you!”

“Clown!” said the groom, “My father, the Baron, has hired you to entertain me on this day, not insult. Perform your magicks now or suffer a thrashing! The choice is yours.”

“You want the magicks?” bellowed Enin, “You want to see the wonder? You worthless pile of insects?”

The groom became enraged at this insult, but tried to stifle his feelings under the practiced veneer of civil propriety.

“Yes, wizard. Show us your power.” he spoke carefully and clearly, between clenched teeth.

Enin’s eyes turned black as he pronounced a string of words not heard by the ears of another mortal in three thousand years. The bridegroom stepped back, feeling his face. Across the surface of it appeared several bumps and boils. They grew and popped, spewing pus and ooze onto the nearby guests. The bridegroom opened his mouth to scream, but instead of a sound, out poured millions of writhing insects, centipedes, and worms. The man fell down in a heap. The party guests nearest him rushed to his aid and tried to lift him off the floor. Their arms pulled his empty jacket off of him, revealing a mound of tiny verminous crawling creatures that scattered off in all directions, causing chaos among the wedding guests. Screams echoed throughout the hall along with the sound of shattering glass as the aristocratic attendants ran for the exits.

The guests who attempted to lift the groom stared in confusion when the scattering insects were gone, leaving only a vacant mess of clothing topped with a purple sash.

“Sorcerer!” exclaimed one of them, looking up at where Enin had stood a moment ago, but the man had vanished.


Part Nine - Breaking the Sky

 
Enin slinked out of the wedding hall, his boots crunching on gravel as the cries of the confused and frightened nobles faded into the distance. Above him, the clouds churned in shades of gray and violet.

He could feel it now. The first pillar. A presence pressing on the edge of his mind, a pull stronger than gravity, drawing him toward the estate’s distant northern grounds.

The forgotten and overgrown path was lined with jagged hedges and gnarled trees that clawed at the dim sky. Ahead, the remnants of an ancient structure loomed—a circular courtyard dominated by a massive column of white stone that pulsed with faint luminescence. The air around it shimmered like heat waves rising from a desert.

This was it.

Enin tightened his grip on the shard of darkness, its edge leeching the warmth from his hand. He approached the pillar, each step heavier than the last. Burdened with  the weight of understanding—what this act would mean, the scale of the unmaking that would ripple outward.

“You should not be here.”

The woman’s voice rang out from nowhere and everywhere. Enin froze, turning his blackened eyes toward the speaker.

A figure stepped forward, emerging from behind a warped tree near the pillar. She wore the form of a twisted old woman, her hunched body bent and gnarled like the trunk of a wicked tree.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” The being’s tone was calm but edged with sorrow. “This monolith is a foundation of the world. Its breaking will bring ruin upon everything. You are not so lost that you would sacrifice all creation for your silence.”

Enin’s voice came low, calm. “I have already sacrificed much.”

“You think the void will give you peace?” The crone tilted her head to one side. “The void devours peace. It will devour you as well.”

“I have made my choice.” Enin lifted the shard. Its cold pulse seemed to quicken, as though eager to fulfill its purpose. “And I will not be swayed by the pleadings of a wayward spirit.”

The crone moved faster than Enin would have thought possible, closing the distance in a single step. She reached out with spindly arms that ended in claw-like fingernails, grasping at the blade in his hand.

The fight was brief but terrible. The hunched old woman’s limbs were thin, but strong as iron. Enin twisted to wrench the blade out of her clutch, but she held fast, her wiry fingers bleeding onto the cutting edge. Finally the sorcerer kicked the crone in the chest, knocking her off balance.

Forcing her against the pillar, Enin used leverage to twist the blade away from the old woman. As he stepped back she howled and lunged at him once more, but Enin was swift. He brought the sword down upon her crooked body. It cut through her as if she were barely material. She fell to the ground in a puddle of gray goo as if melting.

“...This is not the peace you seek.” came her last words as her form liquified, seeping into the ground.

Enin stood alone now, before the pillar. He looked up at its towering form, its marbled surface pulsing like the slow beat of a heart.

“No,” he whispered, “but it will do.”

With a single motion, he plunged the shard into the base of the pillar.

The stone cracked, sending fissures racing up its surface. White fire burst forth, blinding and searing, as the pillar let out a horrendous sound that tore into the sky. The ground beneath Enin’s feet shook violently, and a gale of wind roared outward, scattering debris.

Clouds parted, and the heavens fractured. From the void beyond, streaks of fiery light rained down - a thousand stars falling from the sky.

Enin stood amidst the chaos, watching the firestorm unfold. The estate was the first to fall, a cascade of flame reducing the once-pristine halls to ash. The screams of  revelers and servants echoed in the distance. Beyond, the meteors struck forests, rivers, and distant villages, each impact sending shockwaves across the land.

He felt no triumph, no satisfaction. Only the faintest flicker of relief, buried beneath the vast emptiness that had consumed him for so long.

The shard in his hand pulsed again, urging him forward. The destruction of the first pillar was only the beginning.

Enin turned, stepping over the crumbled remains of the pillar, and disappeared into the darkness of the night as the sky turned orange from the fires burning in every direction.


Part Ten - The Flaming Earth

The Witch tapped at the bars of the cage that held the tiny bird.

“Does it hurt?” she asked Tula..

“Not anymore,” said Tula. “When it was happening the pain was unbearable. The world turned black and the next thing I knew my grandmother was shaking me awake. The pain had gone then, leaving me feeling merely...hollow, as if a wind could whistle clean through me.”

“Tula-” the Witch began, but was interrupted by a horrendous crashing noise outside of the hut.

The two raced outside to see fire raining from the clouds. Crimson balls of flame streaked with yellow blasted through the sky and into the boggy ground with dreadful force and exploded in terrifying bursts around them.

The Witch’s eyes grew wide as the hut they’d just been sitting in ignited behind them. The swamp hens clucked and squealed frantically, running in circles around their pen. The walls of the tiny structure burned quickly and plumes of black smoke billowed around it. From inside came several smaller explosions as the bottles and jars within burst from the heat or perhaps from some magical force within them.

More streaks dropped around them in a blazing torrent. From within the hut the smoke swirled and coalesced. It almost seemed to take a human-like shape.

“No!” gasped the Witch. “No no no! Not now. This can NOT happen NOW!” She stood frozen and stared at the shape.

Tula grabbed the Muck Witch by the hand and pulled her into the dry forest on the edge. Tula led her to the relative cover of the trees.  Above them branches cracked apart in white-hot flares as the meteors fell into the world around them. Splintered wood and searing fire flew in every direction.

The pair ran forward until they came to a wall of blazing trees. They turned to their left to avoid the fires, but only found their path blocked by several fallen tree trunks that were blackened and burned by the destructive force that had laid them low.

They veered back toward the swamp. A meteor struck the ground behind them with concussive force and the sound of ten thousand thunderbolts that threw Tula and the Witch into the dirt. Everything fell silent.

The world around Tula moved in slow motion as blasts continued to fall around her soundlessly. Though she could see the chaos raging on, her ears gave her nothing besides a faint ringing noise. Tongues of fire licked at the bog and branches snapped in white-hot bursts, crashing around her without a whisper.

She got to her knees. The Witch lay face down on the scorched ground with her leg bent at a strange angle. Fire continued to rain all around them. The girl’s eyes filled with tears. If she still had her heart it would have been beating its way out of her chest. But instead of a heart she had a bird and the Bird spoke to her.

“Get up!” it said.

Bewildered and frightened, Tula almost failed to register the voice.

“Get up now or we both die!” said the Bird.

“What?” said Tula, “How are-” before she finished uttering the sentence she realized that she could not hear her own voice. She could hear nothing but the Bird.

“No time for questions, girl!” spoke the creature in her chest. “Move, move, move! That’s all there is to do!”
 
“But-” she mouthed silently then stopped. Trying to speak was obviously futile.

“Now!” shouted the Bird as another meteor struck dangerously close to them.

Tula grabbed the Witch by her arm and hefted her over one shoulder. The older woman came-to and looked around.

“We must run!” shouted Tula, but she could not tell if the Witch heard.

The Muck Witch tried to move, but her leg was clearly broken. She fell onto Tula.

Somehow the girl found the strength to drag the Witch to the swamp.

They trudged on three good legs through knee deep water. Every muscle in Tula's body screamed as she hauled the Witch on her shoulder, the older woman's weight threatening to buckle her knees. The swamp water sucked at her legs with each step, slowing her like tar.

The blasts of flame from the sky seemed to lessen as they went. In several minutes that felt like years they reached a small hill where the earth was dry. Tula slumped to the ground, exhausted. The fire had not spread to that spot and as she looked around, it seemed as if the meteor shower had ceased. Slowly Tula’s hearing returned to her.

The two women sat on the edge of the bog, surveying the destruction.

“Do you know how to set a broken leg?” the Witch asked matter-of-factly.

The Bird said nothing.

--------

This story was written and recorded in New Jersey on Lenapehoking territory.

Intro music is 'Shoulders Of Giants' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.au

Episode Two - Ash and Feathers

 

Part Five - Beginnings and Endings

Tula eyed the Muck Witch.

“I’ve told you my entire story. All that I know and understand of it. My grandmother found me lying in an alley where the man had left me. She saw the cage that took the place of my heart and knew right away that I had to come to you. She told me the rules that I must follow to seek your aid.”

“Your grandmother gave good counsel,” said the Witch.

“So you can help me?” You can restore my heart like you did my voice? Make me whole again?”

“No," said the Witch.

“But, Muck Witch, please! I beg. I will repay you any way I can. I have no coin but I will work for you! I can cook, and tend to your animals!”

“I do not need those services,” the Witch began, “but more importantly I cannot fix this curse. This wicked man has taken what is yours. You do not know where to find him. You do not know where he has absconded with the core of you. Even if you could find him, the only way to repair the damage done is if he willingly returns your heart.”

“Then I am lost?” cried Tula.

“No,” said the Witch. “You have lost something. You have lost something essential to you. But you have not lost yourself. Even though you are changed by this ordeal, you still have your life. That is more than many get to keep after having the heart of them removed.”

“My life? What good is that? The wicked man took my life as well as my heart. He claims the world will soon end, I with it. You as well, I suppose.”

“That does concern me.” said the Witch, flipping her braided hair over one shoulder. “The world happens to be where I make my home. Ending it would cause me great distress.”

“What does that even mean?” asked Tula. “How does one end the world? And what does this have to do with me and my heart?”

The Witch gathered all of the scattered bottles and carried them back inside her hut.

“Come girl.” She said, “We will put tea on and I will tell you a story about the making and breaking of the world.”

The Witch put a kettle on the wood-burning stove and produced a tin box from the massive collection of junk that lined every surface in her hut. Tula didn’t see her light the stove, but felt the heat emanating from it the moment the kettle was placed upon it. The Witch opened the tin box to pull out a handful of aromatic leaves and flowers which she placed into a porcelain bowl on the table.

“Which story have you been told?” she asked Tula.

“I’m sorry, ma’am?”

“Let us start with the beginning.” said the Witch as she poured hot water from the kettle into the bowl then placed a lid atop it. “What tale are you told about the origin of the world and all things in it? There are many stories and I am asking which is yours.”

“I see.” said Tula, “I suppose that the story I have heard most is that of Maj the Shaper. He stood in the firmament surrounded by void. I forget how, but he built a fire. From that fire he forged the world.”

“That is the essence of the story, yes.” said the Witch. “Have you been told others?”

“Yes,” Tula said, “my grandmother told me that the world always was. That one day people emerged from a hole in the ground or a cave and we have spread upon it ever since. And once I saw a man in the market preaching that the world is an egg laid by a giant waterbird and when it hatches we will all be food for the baby bird.”

“That is one of my favorites,” said the Witch. “So. If you have been taught that Maj created the world have you also been told of Mur the Destroyer?”

“Oh yes! He is to come after the final war of mankind and suck the life out of every living thing. Then he will wipe the world clean with the sacred fire. Then it all starts anew I think.” Tula was unsure about that last part.

“So, there are many different stories regarding the beginning and the end, no?” asked the Witch.

Tula nodded.

“In Arodem,” continued the red-haired woman, “they claim that the world was squeezed out of the udders of a colossal she-goat. In the Red Valley it is said that the world is formed by the music of a piper and if she ever stops playing, we will all cease to be.”

Tula laughed at that one and the Witch glanced sideways at her.

“Is that any more silly than a giant egg or a man forging the world on a vast fire?” asked the Witch.

“I guess not.” said Tula, “But tell me, Ma’am, which of these stories is the right one? Which is true?”

“They all are.” said the Witch as she poured the tea into a pair of mismatched and chipped cups.

“Are you saying that all are equally true or that they are all equally false?” asked Tula.

“That is an excellent question,” said the Witch. “It is one I cannot answer.”

“What is the point of asking me all this anyway?” Tula asked. “What does it have to do with the wicked man and my heart? Is he planning to start the final war so that Mur will come to draw our souls into his black lungs? Or will he crack the massive egg or interrupt the piper? How do all these stories help me become whole once more?”

“I already told you, child. There is no making you whole again. Not in the way that you mean. And if that man means to end the world he may well succeed. Even if he fails and you somehow convince him to return your heart there is a chance that...” she looked down at her tea as she trailed off.

“A chance of what?” asked Tula.

“There is a chance that you may no longer want it back.”

Part Six - The Sorcerer’s Bird

“Fool!” Enin said, “Damn old fool! That’s what you are!”

Shouting at himself in the pitch blackness; this is what the wicked and mighty Enin had become- a withering husk of a man, a grey skeleton crying in the shadows.
“So certain of yourself, old man. So full of hubris. You sought to make yourself a god. Now look at you. You’re too dried and ancient to even produce a single tear.”

He held the heart in front of his face. He could not see it the way one sees in the light, but still he sensed it before his own eyes. The heart felt warm and bright in his hands, as did the girl from whom he’d stolen it. It had been a great sin to take it from her. Not his greatest sin by far, but a terrible thing nonetheless. She screamed and squirmed as he held her down to do his hideous work upon her. Enin apologized to her as he cut out the core of her being for his own needs.

“It is the only way.” he had said to her. “I am sorry for the pain I must cause you, but I need this and can not stop myself.”

Shutting out the memory of how he won this prize, Enin felt it pulse in his hands. Even now far removed from its host the heart beat strong and full of life. Still, the pure heart did not light the way as expected. He saw no Door. Just darkness.

“Idiot.” came a voice not his own. It startled the old man before he remembered he was not exactly alone in this cave.

“You’re doing it wrong, you decrepit turd!”

Enin glanced down at his chest reflexively in spite of his blindness in the utter dark.

“What would you have done differently, feather brain?” he retorted in the direction of the voice.

The voice came from Enin’s own heart, or what passed for one. An iron cage rested in a hollow cavity in his chest, much like the one he had forced upon Tula Petek. Within it sat a starling. Had there been even a mote of light it would have reflected iridescently off the bird’s black feathers.

“You read the scroll of Aina. One must have a pure heart to see the Door.”

“I DO have one.” boomed the old man, waving the heart around blindly.

“You can’t just hold it out like a candle, you dullard. The heart must be a part of you.”

“But...”

“I may be a birdbrain, but I’ve seen a thing or two in the centuries I’ve lived within your chest, old man. The only way you can find what you want is if you tear your heart out. Again.”

“But to do so would-”

“Kill you?” finished the bird, “No, I’m sure it wouldn’t. Besides, isn’t that the whole point?”

“It may merely disable me.” said Enin, “Make me unable to move. Trapped in this cavern, frozen for eternity.”

“That it just might,” said the bird, “but maybe not. What have you to lose at this point? You’re trapped here either way.”

“But if I release you, what will you do?”

“Fly away!” squawked the bird, “Far away from you!”

“At least you are honest with me.” said Enin, “I suspect you are correct. I have no other option, do I?”

“None that I can see, but even I can’t see in this pit.”

Enin covered the heart in leaves once more. He set it gently down and began reciting a very ancient incantation. Strange syllables unheard for aeons poured from his mouth. The metal in his chest grew warm, then hot, very hot, creating light in the pit of darkness for the first time in living memory.

The pain grew immense as the cage went from red to white hot. Within the bird fluttered and hopped and screeched in pain.

“I don’t like this!” the bird howled.

“It will be over soon.” replied Enin. It was a phrase he’d spoken many times. In another life as a surgeon he’d said it to soothe his patients. As a killer to silence his victims. Today he played both roles at once.

With a brilliant flash the door of the cage burst open. Instantly the bird popped out, singed but not permanently harmed. It stretched its wings for a moment, glanced at Enin in the fading light of the heated metal and flew off the way they had come. It did not say goodbye to the man that had held it captive for centuries. Even if it had wanted to, Enin was certain the power of speech left the creature the moment it exited his body.

The next step of the operation would be the difficult part. Enin’s entire body burned with pain. Without a living heart his corporeal form would soon cease to function. He fumbled for the vital organ of Tula Petek, but between the darkness and pain he could no longer locate it. With great effort the old man managed to flip over to his knees and felt around the cavern floor for the precious object. He knew it must only be a few inches away from him.

He tried to curse in frustration but no words escaped his mouth, his very breath absent. Frantically Enin swept around the pit with his hands, each movement stiffer than the previous. His arms and legs began to feel like rusty hinges. If he had a tear to cry it would have poured out of him, but Enin sacrificed his ability to weep long long ago. The old sorcerer truly had nothing now. Even the bird he’d exchanged for his heart had abandoned him.

Falling on his face, the old man gasped dryly, unable to catch a single breath. This was his end for certain, paralyzed on the cold stone, trapped within himself for all eternity. Having given up his mortality in ages past, Enin would reside here, motionless until his mind snapped.

Something brushed against his neck. A leaf, one he’d used to wrap the heart, had fallen near him on the cavern floor. With intense effort, Enin turned his face toward it. His right arm had lost all motion, but his left still inched along. Using his fingers like the legs of a spider he managed to crawl his dying hand along the floor toward his face. Every inch of ground covered by his hand sent stabbing pain along his chest and spine, but Enin continued.

The hand soon felt warmth. The soft and beating heart of Tula Petek had rolled loose of the leaves, but had not broken. Grasping it in his wicked left hand gave Enin a miniscule spark of life. Just enough vitality surged through his veins to scoop the organ toward his sunken chest.

As he pushed the heart into the broken wreckage of the small cage it began to beat faster and faster. The pain subsided a fraction and Enin managed to press the broken cage door shut over the heart and roll onto his back. The fire in his muscles ebbed and his lungs began pumping the stale and musty cavern air. Nothing in his long life had ever tasted as sweet.

Glancing upward, Enin saw a light. It glowed blue, no yellow, no...not any color he’d ever witnessed. The light took the shape of a ring floating just a yard or two above his face. Enin sat up and reached out to it.

He reached out with his fingers to touch the light of the end of the world.

Part Seven - Tula’s Tale

“Tell me, Tula,” said the Muck Witch, “how did you meet the man who did this to you? How did he dress, what did he look like?”

“I sold fish and oysters at the market in Kara Lys to the south. Mine is a fishing village a half a day from there. My grandmother and I have sold there for years. We have our own stall. She tends to it while I carry baskets of our wares about the square.”

Tula took a sip of the tea the Witch had given her. It was hot and aromatic with a hint of spice. She admired the cup for its sea-foam color and deep blue rim as she held it in both hands to feel its warmth as if she could draw strength from the vessel.

“On market day the man approached me. I cannot picture his face. It is as if he used some trick or glamor to make me forget it. He wore fine and colorful, but rather flamboyant, clothing. He had the bearing of a nobleman, but his attire did not resemble that of the refined folk I would sometimes see in the square. He wore a coat of crimson with gold trim and a tall black hat. He had pale skin, even whiter than yours. He resembled the men from the islands to the north, in the Bay of White Whales.

“The Kasrae Islands?” offered the Witch.

“Yes, that’s it. One of the sailors my father fished with came from there. He had skin the color of snow...as did the man who did...this.” she pointed to her chest.

“So the man who stole your heart was a
thaumaturge from Kasrae?” asked the Witch. “I have known a few from that region. They have usually proven to be fine and joyful people. But as with all folk, some among them are rotten, I suppose.”

Tula continued, “The man said he wanted to purchase an entire basket of fish- all I had been carrying. He offered me an extra lion coin for myself if I carried the fish to his home.”

“And you did not question this?” the Witch asked her, “A strange man offering you a coin to follow him home?”

The girl set her cup down and looked the Witch in the eye. “What choice would a child such as I have, Muck Witch? Had I refused the man, he could have struck me for such insolence. Perhaps it is different wherever you hail from, but here in Vatrus people know their place.”

The Witch turned her head away as if looking out a window, but her tiny hut had none.

Tula continued, “He led me to a narrow street I’d never walked upon and instructed me to set the basket down. I did so. Then I looked up as he fell upon me.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Witch. “I meant not to blame you for his actions. What that madman did was terrible and his fault alone.”

“I tried to scream but could not make a sound. I did not speak again until today. The worst part was the look in his eyes.”

“The wild gaze of a madman can be horrifying.”

“No,” Tula said, “it wasn’t like that. His face was full of remorse. He apologized as he cut me open. He seemed as if he were to fall to tears as he explained to me that in thirteen days the world would end. I lost consciousness while he spoke of the ritual he would perform. I don’t even know why he was telling me. It felt as if he simply wanted someone to talk to.”

“This man has committed a horrible violent act upon you, girl.” said the Muck Witch. “He is not worthy of your empathy.”

“Thirteen days until the world ends,” said Tula. “That was five days ago. Could it be true? And if so, how? And please, no more stories.”

“The man you have described sounds familiar to me,” said the Witch. “I cannot be certain, but many years ago I met a man in Kudrakai. He was Kasrae by birth and his style of dress was similar to the man who stole your heart.”

“That means nothing.” Tula said. “There could be any number of men in the world who fit that description. Pale white skin and a coat of red?”

“That is not the part which got my attention,” said the Muck Witch. “But I know of a man whose eyes are full of sorrow even as he ends your life. They call him The Baneful Surgeon or The Kind Killer. You never knew which you would find until he came upon you.”

Tula sipped her spiced tea. She held the cup in both hands once more and asked, “Who is this man? Is he a warlock?”

“Among other things, yes. He has walked the lands of this world longer than I have. At times he has been viewed as a savior, and others a destroyer. If he is the one who harmed you, then I admit I am in fear.”

Tula reached out and placed her hand over the Witch’s.

“Who is this man?” she asked.

“His name is Enin.”