SEALS

Chapter 15: Endless Corridors, Hopeless Warriors

There was once a young man with the improbable name of Wander. He rode boldly into an ancient land that had been forbidden to his people for so long that Time itself seemed to have forgotten it. He did not do this to sate curiosity nor did he do this out of some kind of rebellions spirit. He did not come to the ancient land because he was forced to. It had been difficult to find. All he had to inform him of the place was an ancient map that had clouds drawn all over it to convey obscurity, a few rumors regarding mountains and valleys, and a story about a long, magical bridge.

The young man named Wander had come to the Forbidden Land for one reason and one reason only; he was in love. He was in love and the lifeless body of the person he loved was wrapped up and cradled upon the saddle of his horse.

The only thing anyone knew about the Forbidden Land was an old myth that an entity of great power had been sealed here long ago with the sacred sword kept in the temple of Wander's city. The myth told of enormous, impossible creatures that existed in the land. Most importantly, the stories told around bonfires, campfires and hearths about this forgotten country held that the giants that made up parts of the landscape carried in their blood the power to bring back the dead.

Most people would have accepted loss – even a loss through murder – without upsetting the demons of a cursed country. When Wander had managed to get through the press of the crowd and to fight past the guards to get to the interior of the Tower of Heaven, the great temple of his city, he had lost himself. He'd climbed up the spiral to the ceremonial chambers, hopeless, as he was without a weapon at the time. He hadn't even carried his bow because he knew the guards would just rip it away from him. He had not really known what he was going to do and just charged in with slippery speed and physical strength. He was sure he'd been let through as a matter of sympathy, in the end.

"Don't let them kill me, Wander!" had been ringing in his head the entire time.

When he'd gotten to the platform, he was too late. The coward-priests wouldn't even look at him from behind their masks. Lord Emon, the head-coward, had simply intoned to him "You. Very well. Take her and leave."

Mono was clean – apparently bathed specifically for the ceremony. She wore a ceremonial dress and the wound – a heart-wound through her back made by a sacred dagger – had been swift and clean. Much blood had been lost and it ran into the channels of the graven magical symbol in the floor - yet the young woman had looked peaceful. Had she gone willingly in the end? Wander shivered at the thought when he'd held her.

He'd walked down the spiral and out of the temple, ignoring the murmurings and mumblings from gathered people. He'd bypassed the home of Mono's family. He had not wanted to see those people – they had allowed this to happen. He'd taken her to his own home and cleaned her up, feeling numb.

Adults of his culture dealt with death quite easily. Death was very much a part of Wander's life, with him being skilled in the hunting arts. Human death was not looked away from, either. Families dealt with the dying and with the remains they left behind in their own homes. Funerals were typically quick, within a day or two of the passing so as not to incur illness-curses from the decay of the deceased. Wander bandaged the wound and procured a fresh dress – one that he had purchased for her as a gift he had yet to give her. When a relative asked him what he was going to do, he'd lied and told them that he was going to bury his betrothed in the flowering field where they'd shared their first sincere kiss as adults.

Instead of fetching a shovel, Wander decided to fetch a sword. He'd awaited the time of deep night when all of the priests went to their sleeping chambers. A "cloak of deception" that he'd managed to find in one of the places where artifacts were kept helped him greatly, but mostly, he'd taken to avoiding guardians by using his extraordinary upper-body gifts and climbing sections of the tower, bit by bit, resting upon ledges and shimmying through narrow windows. The sword was in the same room that he'd remembered from the time he'd seen it on display with Mono. The rays of dawn were lighting its edges just as Wander snatched it.

He'd managed to get back through the city with the stolen cloak, but it had caught upon a nail in his doorway. It was torn and its magic disappeared. He'd quickly wrapped the body of his beloved in another robe and made for the stables, hoping no one who was awake at this hour would notice the new sheathed weapon upon his hip. He had then spurred Agro to the darkest and most dangerous forest he knew, easing her pace when he was sure he was a relatively safe distance from the city.

He'd galloped right past the flowered field where he and Mono had shared their first lover's kiss and toward the mountains in the distance.

The moment he'd seen Mono on the chamber floor in the Tower of Heaven – Wander broke. His soul had shattered into fragments and had spilled out of him like her blood had seeped from her body.

No price was too heavy for him to pay. He assured Dormin of that.

Wander had come to the Forbidden Lands to do nothing less than to reunite souls; to reunite Mono's soul with her body so it would be warm again and they would be together – to reunite the fragments of the shattered entity that promised to make it happen – and to gather himself back together.

So far, he had only lost himself. More and more Wander had been consumed by the shadow-blood of ancient spirits. When he met another hopeless warrior – a giant that had fallen into a valley – he was not sure if he was the young man with the improbable name of Wander or if he was the Dormin, missing but two parts of a true corporeal form and borrowing a mortal's until the puzzle was complete.

The young man and vessel ran along the ancient pavilion and used the giant sentry's own tactics against him. He ran down the ancient corridors that had once served as gathering places for crowds whose bones had long since turned to ash and dust to scatter upon the winds of the ancient desert fortress.

The solution to this puzzle was quite standard. Wander had a human memory of being taught that to use an opponent's own moves against him assured victory in a fight – was it his father who had taught him that? He knew many strategies – to look for gaps in armor to aim an arrow into when facing an armored warrior – to know the behavior of certain animals, such as their habits when calm and oblivions as well as what they do when they panic…

Perhaps it was appropriate that some of Wander's last human memories were those of hunting and battle. Still, he was bidden by the Dormin to find the hidden seals on this particularly well-sealed Colossus.

When the old soldier fell, so did Wander.

After he awakened in Dormin's keep, there was one last piece of him left.

He was warned to make haste and he could sense in his bones that beings that did not want him to become whole again in the material plane were coming to stop the ritual. There was a single piece left. The last to die and to thereby be freed was the most malicious part of him, a part that constituted a cruelty and ferocity so dangerous that it had been affixed in the ancient days to a single place. This contained malice sank any ship that was ever storm-washed too close to the southern shore.

The ones that had sealed him had to destroy an architectural wonder to contain that fragment behind a holy seal. A seal had been placed upon a gate as well that would only open with the death of all the others.

Each of the Colossi had contained the pieces that any soul, living or dead, had ever contained: Loneliness, strength, truth, curiosity, caution, wisdom, wildness, shadows, anger, grief, devotion, strangeness, joy in freedom, secrets, watchfulness and… malice.

At the same time, there was something foreign to the nearly freed ancient soul, something particularly organic, differing from cold stone and rumbling earth. The Dormin dealt with the passage of souls of all beings, but he'd never felt this fragment of a soul so intimately.

Wander looked down at Mono one last time. He felt faded and knew that he was almost gone. In fact, he was fairly certain that this last hunt would end his life – but it was worth it in exchange for hers. At first, he had wanted to bring her back to be with her, to live their lives together. In truth, he still wanted that, even as he knew that the "heavy price" might be him. He accepted the end now. She deserved her innocent life more than he deserved his guilty one.

Agro walked up to the young man and he reached around and stroked the mare's cheek and muzzle. Wander then mounted and rode off down the stairs and out into the wilds, following the light of his sword.

Indeed, this fragment of passion was strange to that which had been long ago fragmented and was still incomplete.