"He'll live for another day. Two, at most." The woman kept disentangling the nets as she spoke "The burns were too severe in the first place. Not what's left of the legs, those are so charred there's nothing left to infect there, but the rest is a mess. I'm good with jellyfish punctures, drownings, broken bones and fish hooks found in places where they should not be. Shark bites, I can handle those too; but this would have been too much for anyone." She took a shrimp trapped in the nets off with her teeth, looked at the elder Scribe and said: "You should just let him die. He's not in the condition to talk"
"You heard her, Sandro? A Mad One who plays at being a physician, you should take note of that" said Reigo, turning towards the young boy that accompanied him. The man was a brilliant scholar whose company allowed Sandro to learn more in their three years together than what those with different teachers would have learned in ten, but the novice could not help but to think that Reigo was not what could be called "a people person".
"Fuck you, Scribe". She dropped the nets and, with a nonchalant gesture whose undertones where nevertheless clear, started to gut some fishes with her jagged bone knife. Like many Mad Ones, she lived alone, distant from everybody else. Few like her have a choice over the matter: most people see the Mad Ones as bad luck, fearing that the same bravado that led them to sail into the open sea would also be followed by the wrath of oceanic Gigas. Ironically, that's what had have saved her life a few days prior.
Reigo smiled. "Don't worry, the day I'll need help in a fishing competition or a creative idea to kill myself, I'll listen to you. But in the meantime…" he looked into his bag and pulled out a vial with rust red liquid inside, "…a couple of sips of this and the pain will disappear long enough for us to do our job. He'll have some hours of relief and we'll have what we came here for. Sure, this stuff does not let one walk for weeks, but that's nothing we have to worry about this time".
Sandro rolled his eyes a little when he heard that. That attitude always caused them more problems than needed.
She just sighed. "You're just gonna keep bothering me until I let you do as you please, isn't it?
"Yes, I need to hear what happened straight from him."
The Mad One just waved a hand towards her cabin, pretty much the only gesture of approval she could be bothered to give to the Scribes.
Reigo immediately darted towards the small wooden structure, quite fast for an old man with a walking stick. He turned just a second to order Sandro to remain outside from the time being. The kid obeyed without saying a word. Left alone with the woman, Sandro began to nervously look around. Part of his training focused on always observing the surrounding looking for details and connections, something the novice also used to keep the mind busy. They were on a vast sandy beach, yet the Mad One's cabin was more than a hundred meters away from the ocean itself. Even her small boat was here, which made little sense to the boy's mind.
As they had taught him, "if you want to learn, ask".
"Sorry…"
"What?" she said. The white tattoos, in clear contrast with her dark tanned skin, were a local custom used to identify outcasts and rejects. Though, Sandro noted, it seemed as if she had added plenty of her own.
"…I just wanted to ask why you live so far from the water. I mean, just taking the boat to it looks like plenty of work"
She stopped working, took some sand and used it to absorb the blood on her hands. "I'm what you call a Mad One, kid, but I'm not stupid. I live alone. Gargarinas rarely bothers anyone who does not go looking for trouble, but I don't want to sleep next to the ocean in case she's in a bad mood or some other monster decides to come out when I'm sleeping. Living here usually gives me enough time to flee"
A wise move, with a sound logic behind, the boy thought. He remained silent for a while, but then asked "Why you do that?"
"Do what? Sail into the open ocean?"
Sandro nodded.
The Mad One stood up and, while looking at the sea, pointed a finger towards north-east. "Tell me, little Scribe, what's on a couple of days of distance in that direction?"
Trying to remember his studies, Sandro said "If I'm correct, going that way there's a small archipelago with three bigger islands"
"And who do you think put them on the map?" she said with a smile.
Before he could say anything, a voice from the cabin interrupted their discussion. "Sandro, ink and scroll here! Fast!"
The novice gasped for a second and ran to his teacher at once, as he was taught to do. Reigo was at the door, opening it for the novice from the inside while also keeping his eyes fixed on whatever was inside.
As the boy came closer, the elder said "You need to see this, Sandro. Don't miss a word while you write and be strong" He spoke with a firm yet concerned tone, which was so unusual for his teacher that it actually scared Sandro. Trembling, with the hope that Reigo would not notice it while also being aware that little escaped his master, the novice entered
The cabin was small, essential in its simplicity. Nets and harpoons hanged from the walls, a few seashells the only decoration around. In the middle of it there was a bed, over it the reason the Scribes had come here.
A sickening smell of infection and sweat filled the air.
Upon seeing the man on the bed, Sandro quickly understood why the Mad One said he would not survive for long. His entire body, with the exception of the left sides of his chest and head and his upper left arm, was covered by severe burns, the kind of which Sandro had never seen. His hair were almost completely gone and the flesh around the other side of his mouth burnt away to the point the teeth were showing. His whitened, now blind right eye was twitching. The most striking feature were no doubt his legs, or rather, what was left of them: above where once there were his knees now a pair of blackened stumps, like wood burnt to cinder, completed that grotesque picture.
"Sandro". Reigo snapped his fingers towards a stool in the corner. "There. No talking".
The novice sat down, took out an empty scroll from one of the many bags he carried around and prepared himself to write.
"This is Sandro, my novice. He'll take note of everything you'll say so that your story won't be lost"
The man in the bed inhaled deeply. Speaking took great effort from him, no matter if the medicine numbed away most of the pain. Pain is the way the body warns you that it's hurt: take it away and you'll feel better, but the damage will still be there. "Why?" He wheezed and paused at every word. "It just happened, like it did to many others. I'm not special, there's nothing to learn here".
"There's no such thing as too much knowledge." Reigo walked closer to him. "Please. Don't let everything go to waste. We'll listen".
The poor man gasped for air. "My name…my name's Esso. I live in a village not far from here." Sandro looked out a little window, where the village was. Smoke was still coming from there. "I'm a carpenter. I repair boats most of my time. I always joke that my life is boring…and look at me now." He began to weep.
"Were there any signs before he came?" asked Reigo, trying to keep him talking.
"Signs? No, nothing. I lived all my life following the rules we have for our own protection. Never swim where you can't see the sea floor, don't leave anything to bleed in the water, stay the hell away from the Blue Hole and throw all the crabs that are trapped in the nets back into the sea just to be sure. Just don't provoke Gargarinas or make her think you'll hurt her eggs and you'll be fine. But him? What can protect anyone from him?"
"Who…" Sandro tried to ask, but his teacher made him a gesture to shut up.
"I heard stories about him, as everyone did. But I would have never imagined for him to come here. We are a shitty fishing village thousand of kilometers away from the Roaring Desolation, why the Hell Wyrm would fly here of all places?"
The Hell Wyrm, Zohaki. He had gained dozens of other names in his long existence, but all the lands where the Scribes had set foot had legends about him. Whether you were talking to the icewalkers of the far north, the merchant clans of Tatarin or the warring dynasties of the west marshes, the mere mention of Zohaki's title would strike fear into their hearts.
"It was night. I went out to smoke because my wife hates the smell. I was able to see the stars clearly. The sea was calm and a faint breeze was coming from the east. I can't even remember what me turn around. I remember a dog barking, but that's all." Esso made a pause, lifted his left arm and pointed towards the door, lost in the memories. "He was there, in the sky. I thought it was a comet at first. A comet! Can you imagine? Of all the things, that's the first thing that came to my mind. What an idiot. But it was too close, too fast, too bright. I accepted what was going on when I saw the wings…with those blood red feathers that dripped with fire and ash."
Esso wiped the tears away from his eyes. The right one was useless but could still cry. "Then I heard the roar. That hellish howl will haunt me to the grave. My legs could not move. When the rain of fire started, I survived the initial salvo by pure luck. The house on my left exploded, I don't even know what hit her. I was thrown in the air and landed a few meters away, in the perfect position to see the Hell Wyrm breath a torrent of fire from above, a straight line of death that erased my home and family from existence. Just like that, gone"
The gaze of the man was now set not on Reigo and Sandro, but on the nightmarish memories he was living again, as if he was still there."
"There was smoke and fire everywhere. Enough to light the darkness into day. Everyone was screaming. Then, he landed." The man quickly hit the bed with his hand. "The impact made me fall again. I tried to run away, but his colossal cinder-black coils were destroying what was left and blocking me at every turn. I could still see the wings, but not the head. I ran through whatever passage I could find, every burning building and hole, trying to ignore the fire gnawing at me."
Reigo was silent, carefully listening to every word. Sandro was writing as fast as he could.
"Somehow I arrived close to the village central square. To my surprise, there were several people there. Before I can get closer, I look over them and understand why. The Hell Wyrm is towering above them all, waiting. By burning everything else, that thing forced them to run where he wanted them to. Man, women and kids. The mothers were hugging their children. He…he took deep breath and unleashed a stream of fire and lava on them."
Esso's voice was getting harder to decipher, broken as it was by the tears.
"I was there, couldn't do anything but watch. I know the fire was roaring, but I swear you I could hear them cry. Bright light, fire and then they're dead. In their place, a charred mass of molten corpses. That's when I screamed"
Sandro looked at his teacher, hoping to find some comfort, but Reigo was too absorbed by the tale.
"He heard me, somehow. Fucking monster. He moved his tail lightning and razes all that was left of the building around the square, including the one I was hiding within. I had the reflexes to dive to the ground, though if you ask me now I'd rather have died smashed by the coils right there"
Esso was now looking at the ceiling.
"I was there lying down when that bastard comes closer. I swear on my life it was looking at me. Not at the surrounding: at me. I saw those things break boats, houses and even kill single people, but they always did it in the same way we might step on an insect. Yet, the Hell Wyrm was looking at me as if he understood what was going through my head. Had no idea a thing that big could look at a lone man like that. I try to move away, but I can't bring myself to stand upright, with the result being me pathetically crawling away while keeping my eyes on him."
The man grabbed Reigo by the sleeve and pulled him closer.
"In response that thing carefully opens his mouth and, inch by inch, positions himself so that his fangs are above me. I'm an ant to him and he still does that with the attention and precision of a surgeon. Two drops of liquid fire come out one of the fangs. I remember them shining against the night sky. One for each of my legs."
Esso then pulls away the sheets to look directly at the carbonized stumps.
"The moment they touched my flesh I felt the worst pain I've ever experienced. For a couple of seconds, that magma-like poison spread in my legs while they blackened. I screamed with all the air I had in my lungs. Then, they just broke apart like hot glass thrown into the water. Nothing left but cinders and ash. I screamed even louder, with strength I did not know to have."
At this point, Esso was basically screaming at Reigo. The Mad One barged in the cabin. "What the hell is going on?" she said, but only Sandro turned towards her.
"And hear this, Scribe. Hear this! That bastard above me was laughing! Laughing like a sadistic monster! He looks at me squirming in pain and bellows with amusement only to then fly away like he arrived!". The man was now screaming and lost control.
"Ok you two, out of my house! Now!". The woman then grabbed both Reigo and Sandro, throwing them out with little cerimonies.
While Reigo adjusted himself, Sandro carefully folded the scroll and put away his tools. The teacher was strangely silent.
"Master, are you ok?" asked the kid.
"I'm fine, Sandro. I don't mind the rude treatment. We got our story after all" replied Reigo while starting to walk away.
"But sir, that man did not told us anything useful about Zohaki. I mean, we don't know why he came here, nor why he attacked that village"
The old man stopped and turned around. "How much do you know about the Hell Wyrm, my novice?" he said.
Sandro stiffened, finding himself unable to give a proper reply. "…not much. Just what the people say and what the books I read taught me"
Reigo sighed. "Then let me tell you that what happened here, the story I made you write, will become another entry for list of thousands stories we have about that creature behaving like this. Sometimes, pure malice is enough of a motivation, even for a Gigas"
The novice was still perplexed. "But then why we bothered to come here and learn what we already knew.
Reigo tapped Sandro on the head with his stick. He used barely any force, but still hurt. "Because there's no thing as too much knowledge and all stories deserve to be told. Now hurry: we gotta go check what's left of the village"
Sandro rubbed his head a little, then followed his teacher, as always.