5. Nascent Cliffs
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The Lucid One hugged his emaciated frame as he scaled the soaring mountain. The trees had become scarce the further he climbed, evidence of some great deforestation, and left him with little cover from the frigid winds. A haze escaped his lungs whenever he breathed, but regardless of the cold, he pressed onward. He had been charged with a sacred mission, and was determined to see it through. He had surely been chosen by Nos Himself for this quest. What else could explain his sudden invulnerability?
He was still perplexed at how quickly he had recovered from his fight against the crazed angel. His broken ribs and ruptured organs were whole once more, and the only sign their battle had even occurred was the tattered white gown that clung to his body. Still, the memory of their battle worried him. Something terrible had afflicted that divine being, and he doubted it was alone in its madness. Whatever caused this curse most likely lay ahead, waiting for him.
With a steadying breath, the man continued his ascent into the unknown.
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As he crested a steep slope, he came upon a decrepit village, with battered shacks barely able to keep upright. Broken carts and withered bodies littered the dirt path, and his eyes were immediately drawn to a corpse wrapped in heavy fur robes. Without hesitation, the Lucid One rushed beside the fallen figure and began tugging at the clothes, desperate for warmth. The frost had nearly turned them solid, but after some struggling, he managed to free the shirt and cloak. He gratefully forced them over his gown, ignoring their uncomfortable rigidness.
He went to take the leggings, then stared down at the decaying corpse, feeling a sudden wave of guilt for plundering its remaining shreds of dignity. Stealing was a sin, especially from the defenseless dead, but he reasoned that he had the greater need. The robes would do no good wasting away in the cold, and besides, this man had been left to the elements, forsaken by his kin. He had certainly fallen out of favor with Nos. If anything, this was a charity, a chance to redeem himself from his untimely fate.
The Lucid One tore the leggings off and kicked his feet through, breaking the icy sheen that covered the fur. Dressed properly at last, he pulled the hood over his head and resumed his march along the rocky trail.
As he rounded the corner, he caught movement, and quickly ducked behind an outcrop. Ahead of him was a small gathering of gaunt figures, identical to the ones that attacked him in the tunnels. They shuffled about aimlessly, occasionally striking at the dilapidated shacks with their crude tools. It almost looked like they were trying to repair it, though they only managed to cause further damage. Just beyond the broken huts was a lopsided bridge spanning a great fissure. It was the only way forward.
He counted six figures total — three wandering around the shacks, three more on the bridge. The man gripped his silver cane tighter, devising a strategy. The vacant beings outnumbered him, but he could outsmart them. If he drew the first trio to the corner, he could bottleneck them and keep them at bay with his whip. Gathering his resolve, he rushed from cover and charged.
One of the mindless husks noticed him immediately, and let out a wail to warn the others. The Lucid One prepared himself as they raised their sickles and hammers, but before either side could act, something enormous plummeted from the sky and crashed onto the bridge. The earth trembled beneath their feet, causing the man to topple over, and he stared up in terror at the monstrous beast.
He had heard tales of dragons, but never believed they existed. Now, one loomed over him, its massive wingspan blotting out the very sky, every bit a monster as the stories said. Azure scales glistened in the rays of light, as did rows of fangs curving from its gaping maw. Two muscular legs ended in wicked talons, which crushed the unfortunate figures against the splintering bridge. A serpentine tail ended in a cluster of sharp spikes, and its spiny wings fanned outward like the fins of a fish.
Its most prominent feature, however, was a single white eye that lay in the center of its skull, glowing with intensity. It glared straight at the Lucid One, and his heart sank as its frilled jaws began to quiver. Crackling energy leapt from its dagger-teeth, and the man felt his neck-hairs rising with static alarm.
He barely had enough time to throw himself into one of the shacks before electric blue light tore across the path. He cowered as a deafening peal shook the mountainside, certain that he would be incinerated at any moment. Then, as soon as it began, the squall ended, and there was a heavy beating of wings as the dragon took to the skies once more with a shriek.
It took him a while to find his resolve, but he eventually uncurled himself and peered out the doorway. Burnt wood and smoldering bodies were all that remained. He retreated back into the safety of the hut, when he suddenly realized he was not alone.
Leaning against the far corner was an imposing figure, their face obscured by a low pointed hat and bandana pulled tight around their face. They were dressed in foreign clothes, with a split-tailed coat over an embroidered shirt, and loose leggings ending in heavy leather boots. One gloved hand gripped a broad blade, its steel blackened with soot, while the other held a whetstone in mid-stroke. Dark eyes glinted dangerously beneath the folded brim, as if daring him to make a move.
"Stay your hand, stranger." The Lucid One was shocked to hear a woman's voice, stern and demanding. "I seek no quarrel with you, but I won't hesitate to strike you down if necessary. Best be on your way."
He turned back to the charred doorway, reluctant to step out into the open again. He had no doubt her threat was sincere, but it paled in comparison to what the dragon had to offer.
The woman let out a mirthful grunt as she resumed sharpening her blade. "The drake's scared you witless, eh? Have no fear. It only circles around every so often to hunt. It shan't return for some time. Hurry along now, while you've the chance."
Despite the certainty in her voice, the man remained still. The whetstone paused again as she stared at him with deepening suspicion. "Why do you not answer? Speak, stranger. Only the guilty have reason to be silent."
The Lucid One shrugged helplessly and gestured to his throat. At last, her grip on the sword softened, and her dark eyes widened in understanding. "You... you cannot talk? Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. I sometimes forget my manners. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Serise of Carthania, at your service. I would welcome you to write down your thoughts, but alas, I never learned to read. Seems we all have our faults, no?" She gave a cynical chuckle at her own joke.
He smiled weakly, then glanced around in uncertainty, wishing there was a better way of communicating. After a moment, he pointed upward towards the mountain in hopes that she might understand.
"Of course. You seek the basilica, yes?" The Lucid One nodded again, surprised and relieved. "I expected as much. You awakened are all the same. Blindly following one another's footsteps along the path of saints. Whatever lies behind those walls must be special indeed, to risk your very soul. Though, I suppose any fate is better than joining the vacant ones."
His relief quickly faded into confusion as he received more information than he expected. He pointed towards Serise, who snorted in disdain. "Me? No, I care not for the pilgrimage. I'm here to... Well, let's just say my reasons are personal. Nothing to concern yourself with."
The knightess finally lay her sword down, resting it beside a barbed steel shield. "Forgive my rudeness, but I must try and get some rest. It seems ages since I last slept. Good luck on your journey, stranger. I fear you may need it."
As she covered her eyes with the pointed hat, the Lucid One departed from the hut in a daze. If the woman spoke true, he was not the first to tread this path, and if so, then something must have caused the others to fail. He would not have been awakened had they succeeded.
He wondered just how many footsteps he traced, and to what fate they would lead. Regardless, he resumed his journey, for there was nowhere else to go but up.
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The bridge was barely intact after suffering the weight of the drake, leaving just enough room for him to find a foothold. The man clung precariously to the railing as he shuffled over the bottomless chasm, too terrified to look down. Even with his newfound durability, he knew that such a fall would seal his fate for good.
He dared to breathe again once his feet were back on solid ground. After taking a moment to compose himself, he trekked on along the spiraling path, passing by more decaying buildings and bodies. A massive stone church hung over the cliff's edge, seemingly torn in half by some unfathomable force, poised to plunge into oblivion.
At the next bend, the Lucid One glanced cautiously from behind a battered shed. Sure enough, there was another gathering of vacant villagers, too many to count. They wandered in circles around a makeshift symbol of Nos, with broken planks of wood roped together in an x-shape. As he studied them, he saw one of the villagers pull a rotted book from a pile of debris, which was tossed from the cliffside as if in offering.
There were far too many to fight, and no way to sneak around them. The man pondered this dilemma for a moment, until he came up with a solution that was just simple enough to work. He pulled the fur hood far over his face, concealing the shimmering seal etched onto his forehead, then cast an Aural Decoy at a building opposite him. The odd croaking noise drew most of the peasants'' attention, and he took the opportunity to shamble into their midst.
He was astonished to find that his plan worked. The vacants ignored him entirely, assuming he was one of their own. He slipped through their numbers, moving dangerously close, but passed by untouched.
He had nearly reached the other side when a villager suddenly stumbled out of a hut directly in front of him. The man froze in alarm, and for a moment, their eyes met. To his horror, the villager raised his hatchet with a wail, alerting the rest of his brethren, and the spell was broken.
He did not bother to look back. With a snap of his cane, the Lucid One lashed out and struck the vacant in the knee, dropping him to the ground. He vaulted over the fallen peasant and ran as the cries behind him drew closer.
He sprinted full-speed around the next corner, then skidded to an abrupt halt. Before him was an even larger gathering of villagers, and this time, they spotted him immediately. He stared aghast as they charged towards him, while those behind drew closer. He was trapped.
Just before the crazed mob reached him, a massive golden shape dropped from above, landing directly in their midst. The Lucid One stared slack-jawed at a towering headless knight, its translucent wings fading from view as it stood upright. Its gilded armor gleamed brightly, and glittering mist drifted from its hollow neck.
As the man marveled at the glorious angel, the villagers' cries turned to ones of elation, and they rushed towards the golden giant in a wild frenzy. Their crude tools clambered to the ground as they pawed harmlessly at the polished metal. The knight leaned over with a groan and lifted one of the villagers bodily, holding him up as if appraising a treasure, then gently squeezed. There was a faint crack, barely audible above the din, and the angel flung the peasant over the cliffside into the roiling tempest below.
A second tremor struck behind him, and the man turned to find another radiant knight. This one gripped a gold staff in its gauntlets, tipped with the cross-shaped saltire of Nos, which it thrust into the sky. There was a brilliant flash as lightning struck the pole and spread outwards like a shockwave through the crowd. The closest villagers fell into smoldering heaps, but were quickly replaced as more rushed willingly to their certain doom.
The Lucid One glanced around frantically, desperate to escape this insanity. The mob forced him dangerously close to the cliff's edge, nearly knocking him over, and he struggled to keep his footing. Then, he noticed a small ledge jutting from the mountainside below, barely large enough to hold a person, and began clawing his way towards it.
As he drew closer, the angel ahead raised its open palms to either side and began to levitate. Its ephemeral wings bloomed into existence, showering the swarming vacants in gold sparks, and without warning, pillars of white light rained from the heavens. The brilliant beams seared through pockets of the crowd, disintegrating the hapless peasants, and the man abandoned all caution. He dove blindly as a pillar struck the ground where he had been standing, and tumbled over the cliff.
Time crawled to a halt as he hung in midair. For a brief moment, he imagined himself falling forever into infinity, then his back struck solid stone. His eyes flew open, half shocked, half relieved, and saw that he was lying at the very lip of the rocky shelf, his legs dangling over the roiling clouds. He quickly scampered against the wall for safety, while more villagers fell limply from the chaos above.
As he took shelter, he discovered a narrow crack in the cliff's face, just wide enough for him to squeeze through. The man wasted no time before he wedged himself into the opening. Wherever the tunnel might lead, it could not be worse than where he had been.
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The jagged walls tore at his clothes as he wormed through the constricting passage. It seemed to shrink with every inch, making it difficult to breathe, and he expected to be trapped at any moment. His only solace was the light emanating from his seal, which illuminated the crevice and urged him on. At this point, he could not turn back even if he wanted to.
After what felt like ages, the Lucid One spotted an opening. He ignored the rocks scraping at his body and crawled anxiously towards the exit, craving the chance to draw air again. At last, he pushed himself through the hole and collapsed onto a rickety chair, which snapped to pieces beneath him.
Although he was able to stretch his weary body, he was not yet out of the tunnels. The man found himself in a makeshift home of sorts, with shoddily made tables and shelves placed at random about the small cavern. Tattered books lay scattered on the floor, and the walls were covered in crude paintings.
The most prominent picture was of the very mountain he climbed, topped by a great fortress — the Basilica of Saint Andros. Below it were ocean waves, and four winged figures floated high above. One wielded a bolt of lightning, another had a hunting bow, the third held a staff topped with a bell, and the last was empty-handed.
Beside it was a depiction of a great battle, with a legion of angels battling what appeared to be a mass of serpents rising from the sea. Another section showed a fleet of ships sailing across the ocean. There were also some odd shapes, wavy lines and spiral designs, as well as the saltire of Nos drawn repeatedly. In the lower corner, a man held his own head in one hand, and a flame in the other.
As he studied the mural, the sound of approaching footsteps alerted him. He raised his cane defensively as a single villager shambled into the room. The cadaverous creature froze when it saw him, and for a moment, neither one made a move. Then, it moaned in fright and promptly fled.
The Lucid One stared after it, perplexed, then followed. He weaved through the maze of tunnels, chasing the echoing groans, until he spotted the vacant cowering in an alcove. He frowned, wondering why this individual was not hostile like the others, and carefully approached. As he drew closer, the thing glanced at him with bulging, milky eyes, and hastily flung something further into the cave. The man remained motionless, expecting it to strike, but it merely continued to huddle.
Once he was certain the villager meant no harm, he strode past it and inspected the object it threw. It was a human skull, but its orifices were coated in crystals. He picked it up curiously, wondering what purpose it could possibly serve, then returned to the peasant trembling in the dark. He tried to offer its treasure back, but the pathetic creature refused to even look at him.
After a while, he accepted that there was nothing he could do for the poor soul, so he tucked the skull under his robes for safekeeping and continued through the caverns.
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At last, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel, and a chill breeze brushed past his face once again. It carried with it the sounds of battle, as well. The man readied his silver staff as he approached the opening, prepared for another fight, and gazed down from the precipice.
Below was a single warrior facing off against a group of vacants, who rushed at him with abandon. The fighter swung a massive copper-plated wheel against the horde, wielding its enormous bulk as if it weighed nothing. The Lucid One dropped from the ledge onto a crumbling roof, prepared to join the fray, though he soon realized the warrior did not need his help in the slightest.
A single blow sent three villagers sprawling. A fourth charged with hammer flailing, but the fighter blocked with his wheel before bull-rushing the vacant to the ground. He sidestepped as a sickle whisked past his bronze helm, then there was a crackle of electricity as sparks flew from the spokes. The wheel spun madly as he thrust it into the villager, who flew back with a sizzling pop, its skin charred black.
Another rushed in with a pitchfork, and the warrior dove to avoid the strike. He came up swinging, catching the vacant against the kneecaps, which audibly shattered as they folded backwards. The creature collapsed in a heap, then the wheel slammed onto its upper back, crushing it beneath its weight.
The remaining trio attacked in unison, but could not land a single hit against their nimble foe. The Lucid One noticed that despite the man's merciless assault, he never struck hard enough to draw blood. He blocked another swing from an axe, then shoved the vacant right off the cliff's edge. One of the villagers tried to catch him with his back turned, but he ducked beneath its knife and bludgeoned it across the head, causing its neck to bend at an unnatural angle.
The final vacant cried out as it slashed wildly at the warrior, who backpedaled from the crazed fiend with ease. He blocked an overhead strike, causing its elbow to snap, then caught its jaw with an upward swing. The peasant toppled over in a daze, and before it could recover, the wheel came down hard on its midsection, nearly touching the ground with the force of its blow.
With the battle concluded, the man carefully laid his wheel aside and dragged his final victim towards a nearby shack, where he propped the body upright. The Lucid One quietly descended from the rooftop, unsure if he wanted to draw the warrior's attention after such a brutal display, and watched cautiously as the gray-robed figure tended to the corpse. He realized with alarm that the stranger was talking to it.
"...were doing so well, friend! Don't spoil it over a weak stomach!" As he came closer, he saw that the man was tearing strips of cloth from the dead vacant and stuffing them into its mouth, preventing blood from spilling out. The Lucid One slowly backed away, trying to go unnoticed, but a loose stone caused the warrior to turn in surprise. His face was entirely concealed behind a conical bronze helm, save for his icy blue eyes. Despite their cold demeanor, however, he called out in a jovial tone.
"Oh, hello there, good sir! Apologies for the mess. I thought to share tales of the saints with these poor souls, but they weren't much for listening I'm afraid."
The Lucid One stood frozen, baffled as to how he should respond. Slowly, the warrior rose and approached him, eyes squinted in unnerving scrutiny. Then, without warning, the man flipped open his visor to reveal a beaming smile spread across a surprisingly youthful face.
"Ah, you are one of the chosen!" he exclaimed zealously. "Oh, how I've dreamed of this day! It's wonderful to finally meet you, friend! I am Brother Edson, Sentinel and disciple of Cardinal Richter. It is my solemn duty to guide awakened such as yourself on their pilgrimage. Tell me, do you know of the path of saints?"
The Lucid One nodded hesitantly. "I would hope so, for you walk it as we speak! It is the greatest blessing one could hope for, to be granted an audience with their holiness, the Cardinals. To become a divine... Few are given such a golden opportunity. I must admit I am envious of your fortune, brother. I have long prayed for such a chance... It is not wrong to desire such a thing, is it? Not if one's intentions are pure..."
The Sentinel trailed off, his bright eyes glazing over, and the man waited uncomfortably. Suddenly, the warrior returned to the present with a jolt. "Oh, pardon me. I must have lost my focus. I am Brother Edson, Sentinel and disciple of... Oh, bother! I said that already, didn't I? Bah! What I meant to say is that it is my solemn duty to guide awakened such as yourself on their pilgrimage. To this end, I would present to you our sacred seal."
With that, the warrior procured a cerulean ring and handed it over. Within its insignia were sapphire gemstones, cut into the shape of a crescent with three lines intersecting it. "This is the seal of our covenant," Edson explained, "the ever-watchful Sentinels of Cardinal Richter. Put it on, please! Whenever malicious spirits mean you harm, it will summon one of our numbers to fight by your side."
The Lucid One obliged him and slid the ring onto his index finger, which Edson nodded at approvingly. "Now you will never be alone in battle, my friend." The man could only smile weakly at his overt enthusiasm.
"Well," the Sentinel sighed, "I suppose I should finish up here and give these chaps a proper sky burial. I do hope our paths cross again, Chosen One! May Nos guide your way!"
As he returned to fussing over the deceased villagers, the Lucid One departed with haste. Though the warrior seemed friendly enough, his genial nature contrasted bizarrely with the mangled bodies around them. He was starting to wonder if the entire world had been cursed by madness.
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Appendix
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Breaking Wheel — A large copper wheel carried by Sentinels. When activated, electricity courses through the metal plating, complementing its brute force with lightning damage. These wheels are often used in rites of sky burial, but can also serve as a bludgeoning tool if necessary.
Divine Pillars — A miracle of the Radiant Legion. Summons pillars of light that fall from the heavens. As lightning embodies the wrath of Heliphon, this pure light is said to represent his mercy.
Lightning Coil — A miracle of the Radiant Legion. Calls a bolt of lightning from the sky, which spreads outward from its striking point. While the weakest of lightning spells, it is nevertheless helpful when facing endless hordes of sinners.
Radiant Pole — A polearm that depicts the symbol of Nos. Can be used as a weapon, or to channel miracles. The Radiant Legion served on the front lines against the demons, which fell numerously to their incandescent might.
Sentinel's Seal — A ring worn by adherents of the Sentinels. May summon a blue phantom when invaded by dark spirits. The Sentinels of Cardinal Richter are stalwart defenders of the weak, and uncompromising punishers of the guilty.
Brother Edson: deviantart (dankbouls87/art/Brother-Edson-776445789)