Chapter V
Aclippe's hooves sank deep into the sand, salt crystals having gathered in his mane and fur. Once more Kozmotis was riding along the coast, still looking for his daughter, even though there was no reason to believe she was still alive. Only Lykos and Ombric had dared to tell him, and though in his heart Kozmotis knew this to be true, he couldn't bring himself to give up just yet. He needed to do something, anything, even if it was pointless.
After hours, he got off his horse and began to walk, leading Aclippe by the harness. He felt empty and drained, his gaze wandering over the coast and the ocean. Since the funeral he hadn't returned to the mansion, keeping himself occupied with two objectives; finding Aemilia, and preparing a campaign against the Dream Pirates, to end their threat once and for all. While it was still a mystery where they came from, the black ships had always come from the north, and over the years, Kozmotis had sent out scouting vessels, allowing him to rule out vast areas. However, they still had the Nightmare Man from Euthalia, and Trismegistus was interrogating the shadow for some days now. They had tried to get information out of others before, but without success.
Tired, Pitchiner sat down on a dry lock that had been washed ashore, looking out at the sea, where still ships were searching for Aemilia. Never had he imagined his life to take such a turn; he'd wanted to see his daughter grow up, and to spent his days with Amina at his side as the years pass. That had been the idea, the expected course of their lives ever since the day they'd been married.
Kozmotis still remembered that day clearly; the ceremony in the temple, and the celebration in Atlantis, which had lasted for two days. Only then had they returned home, for the first time as husband and wife, glad to finally have some time to themselves.
…
Amina was in the library putting away the last presents, a couple of books given to them by representatives of the sage's guild. She was still wearing her wedding dress, colored in white and purple, ornamented with golden embroidery, her wavy brown hair bound together with a golden ribbon. Kozmotis entered the large room, hiding something behind his back. He was dressed in the same colors, though he wore a deep purple jacket, reaching down to his knees, with a high collar over a white shirt. He stopped just behind her.
"Alone at last." She said, as she turned around, smiling warmly at him.
"Had it been up to me, we would have left just after the ceremony."
"I think we can make up for the last two days." Her eyes saw that he was holding something. "What do you have there?" Amina asked curiously, but one eyebrow lifted suspiciously.
A smile spread across his face. "Another gift." He explained. "But this one is from me." Kozmotis revealed a long object, covered by a white cloth, a green ribbon wrapped around it, the very same the priest had tied around their folded hands as he'd wed them.
"Kozmo, you didn't need to…" It wasn't customary that the married couple exchanged gifts when they got married; each present they received was supposed to be something they could share.
"What's the point of giving a present when you're obligated? Can't I please my wife with a little something just because I want to?" He asked hopefully.
Slowly, Amina took the gift, his look expectant as she removed the ribbon and then the cloth. It revealed a bow, made of dark wood, black leather wrapped around the grip, fine silver plates surrounding it, crafted into small leaves, and more at the nocks, at which the bowstring was attached to. "It's beautiful." Her reaction delighted and relieved Kozmotis. He was about to reply something, when she threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Kozmo."
He laid his arms around her. "I'm glad you like it."
"So this is why you've spent so much time in Kyrillos' workshop."
"I needed it to be finished for today, after all." He managed to explain before she kissed him. Her lips were soft, but fierce against his, and he returned the kiss eagerly and without hesitation. Barely Kozmotis noticed that she was putting the bow aside, placing it on the nearby armchair.
Her fingers began to work on his jacket. "I'd like to reward you for your kindness." Amina purred between kisses.
"As you wish, Milady." And smirking, he carried her to their bedchamber.
…
Kozmotis returned to reality when Aclippe nudged him with his muzzle, the dark, intelligent eyes of the stallion regarding him calmly. Sometimes this horse seemed to have the character of a dog. Mustering a smile, Kozmotis stroked the animal over the head. "Come." He told Aclippe, getting up. "Let us return to Atlantis."
Atlantis' armory was a great complex, filled with golden coated armor, light to wear, made of interlocking plates to allow the greatest possible mobility. Thousands of weapons stood ready and sharpened; swords, axes, lances, spears, bows with an uncountable number of arrows, most of which were now blessed. Sages of the guild roamed the great hall, enchanting the last pieces of equipment, preparing them for the coming campaign.
In a smaller room, reserved for the High General's equipment, Ombric and Tsar Badr Lunar kept themselves busy. With something that looked a bit like a crochet hook, Ombric burned runes into one of the gauntlets, around the Atlantian tree.
Tsar Badr had only recently learned the art of enchanting. It was a difficult process, as an inanimate object had to be imbued with magic, not just energy but a specific spell. For this purpose sages fed their own modified energy into the object, using their own blood to convey it; Ombric had pricked himself with the hook earlier, while whispering the intended spell. For a brief moment the blood had lightened up in a soft blue, before Ombric had begun to burn the runes into the metal. This technique also meant that a wizard could only enchant a small number of items at a time, before they needed to recover their strength. There were a few stories about the first to try enchanting, most of which ended with the wizard putting too much power into the object. They had stopped before it had killed them, but had never fully recovered, suddenly aged by decades. As long as a wizard avoided mistakes like that however, their life expectancy exceeded by far that of other people. Some sages even stored energy in small vessels, usually crystals, so they could call upon it again to either boost spells, or prolong their lives.
After a while Tsar spoke again. "I haven't seen Lord Pitch since the funeral."
Saddened Ombric nodded, without looking up from his work. "He searches for her still. This loss has left its mark, and I doubt he will ever fully recover from it."
Somewhat dejected, the young novice looked at the ground. "I still can hardly believe it happened." Tsar Badr said with a low voice.
"No one truly can…or at the very least wants to believe it." Ombric interrupted the enchantment. "And maybe that was the intent."
His gaze went up to his mentor. "To sow fear?"
"In a sense." The Archmage agreed. "Kozmotis has spent years fighting them, and he's responsible for bringing thousands into the prison we constructed. He leads our fleet, we call him High Protector of Atlantis, and it stands to reason that he has come to represent us; defeat him, defeat Atlantis." There was a short pause, in which Ombric took a slightly deeper breath, as he regarded his handiwork thoughtfully. When he spoke again his voice was quieter, and he was speaking a little slower. "We have grown comfortable, convinced that we could hold the shadows off until we had them all imprisoned. They have proven we were wrong, which is naturally frightening."
"And it will strengthen them." Tsar Badr concluded grimly.
The wizard nodded. "Yes; and the longer this war will last now, the more doubt will grow, and as useful as it can be at times, doubt can make one very susceptible to fear. If we don't end this soon, this conflict might never end, or they are going to defeat us eventually."
"But if we succeed in improving the bàs na sgàile spell…"
"We haven't made any progress with it in months." Ombric reminded him; he'd neglected to tell the General that little detail, when he'd given him the scythe. "We should be grateful that it's no longer lethal to the user." Another detail he'd failed to mention; the young sage falling into a coma however had been the truth, even though it had occurred sometime later.
"So all we can do now is help Lord Pitch with his campaign, and trust that he can defeat the Dream Pirates once and for all." Something still bothered the young Lord Lunar. "To allow him enact his revenge…could it not be damaging? Maybe if someone else was to lead the fleet this one time."
"I have asked myself the same question, but denying him to fight and to bring to justice those who've killed Amina and Aemilia might be just as damaging. Neither of us can foretell how the coming battle will affect him, but we should allow it for another reason: No one else has been more successful against the Dream Pirates, and the men believe that their General is the only person alive who does not fear them, maybe even that he is the only one who can defeat them. To remove him from this campaign would invite doubt and fear within our ranks. Kozmotis must go, for himself and for them, whether it is truly the right thing for him to do or not." His student let these words sink in for a while, before Ombric added to further assure him. "Just to be safe, I have asked Lord Lykos and Lord Libra to keep an eye on him, and captain Scorpio is certainly a very mindful man in his own right. I have no doubt that they can handle anything these next weeks will throw at them."
Without replying Tsar Badr nodded acceptingly, and Ombric returned to his work. Lunar prayed the General would find his peace after the coming fight, though a nagging doubt still lingered in the back of his mind, despite his mentor's words.
From the valley the warm air rose along the mountain side, all the way to the temple of the Oneiroi. Very close to the edge of a particular steep part of said mountain, Chrysos had made himself comfortable, letting the wind mess with his blond hair. He had to hold on to the papyrus in his hands, its sides fluttering wildly. A map was drawn upon it with black ink, and though the outlines of the known countries around Epirus were done well enough, there were hardly any details; a few cities were mention, along with the connecting roads, though if they'd been drawn in correctly was certainly up for debate.
For a while now Chrysos was entertaining the thought of leaving the temple, to travel around and help those haunted by shadows in other parts of the world. Language wouldn't be that much of a problem; he wasn't the talkative type anyway, but he could see the dreams of others, if he focused tap into their thoughts, which for some curious reason he could always understand, regardless of the owner's origin. It was as if minds had their own universal language.
No, the real problem was safety. Going alone would be suicidal, but Chrysos was considering joining one of the merchants, travelling through the hamlet. Usually they were entire families, going from place to place, selling and buying, while others followed the same route annually, before returning home late autumn. Perhaps he could convince someone to take him with them on their journey, at least to another town or hamlet on their way. Already, Chrysos had decided he would go north first, where he hoped his unusually blond hair would not stand out as much.
A particular strong breeze almost tore the papyrus from his hands, and he pulled it closer to himself. There was another reason why he was out here. A few days ago Eusebios had gotten sick, coughing often, his hands had started trembling and he let things slip his grasp. Chrysos had tried to assist him, but the priest still had his pride, and refused any help, even sending him away. It was as if he didn't want his student to see him like that. Chrysos feared for the old man, who was like a father to him, but there seemed to be nothing he could do; Eusebios had even sent away the priest of Apollo, who had come by the other day.
Only a little while later Chrysos heard footsteps behind him, softened by the grass. "It is dangerous to sit that close to the edge."
The young priest turned his head, looking over his shoulder to see his mentor. He smiled apologetically, not having his tablet around to write an answer.
Eusebios came closer, until he stood right next to him. "What are you studying so intensely?"
Very slowly, Chrysos showed him the map.
"Why are you studying maps? And yes, I've found the others you keep under your bed."
Ashamed, Chrysos looked at the ground.
Eusebios sighed. "I know you must feel trapped here, but the world out there is dangerous, especially for someone so young and with such compromised means of communication."
The novice pulled a face; the priest knew fully well how Chrysos could enter the minds of others, when he focused, and he never left the house without his tablet. Today had been an exception…and well, maybe he was right about defending himself.
"Don't make that face." Eusebios scolded. "As difficult as it is to believe, I too was once young, but I accepted my role as a priest, a servant of the Oneiroi, and so will you in time. Now, you will put away those maps, and focus on your duties; keep your dreams and ambitions on something feasible. Tomorrow you can start with swabbing the temple hall." With that the old man turned around, and headed back to the temple, the novice staring at him with some frustration. What he planned to do was possible, he knew it, and he would not give up until he'd tried.
Inexplicably, the priest stopped on his way, and Chrysos frustration turned into concern. Then Eusebios started coughing again, loud, violently, the boy was quickly at his side to support him, allowing him to put one hand on his student's shoulder. The priest held the other hand at his mouth, while he coughed. Suddenly, blood dripped from his fingers.
Close to Atlantis' coast, visible from the harbor was a small island with a single white tower, a lighthouse. Every night a large fire burned at the top, guiding the sailors; especially in the Atlantian realm, with all its reefs, knowing once position was essential, and many a shipwreck had been prevented thanks to the tower. Now that place served an additional purpose. The Nightmare Man from Euthalia was being kept there, guarded by the Golden Guard and interrogated by the Archmage Trismegistus.
Kozmotis walked down the narrow staircase into the cellar, passed several Guards, who had taken position along the way, then through a long corridor, lit by several torches. A single door at the very end of the corridor was being guarded, and as the General reached it, the man in front of it knocked twice against the wood. Five seconds later Trismegistus opened the door and came out.
"Milord, are you here to inspect our progress?" The old man looked tired, and even a little annoyed.
"Among others." Kozmotis admitted. "Have you learned anything from the shadow?"
The wizard nodded. "It told me how they got to Euthalia…with some pride." Trismegistus said, before taking a sip from one of the goblet, sitting on the table next to the prison door. "They snuck onboard our ships, one or two at a time, hiding in the shadows. Once enough had gathered on the island they brought nightmares, sowed fear among the people, and when they sent for help, all but our prisoner created the black ship and set sail."
Quietly Kozmotis nodded; it was a start. "Nothing else?"
"No, nothing but threats. I have tried to reason with it, I have threatened it myself, and I'm ashamed to say, I've resorted to…torture." The wizard seemed highly uncomfortable with the latter, and it told of his desperation. "I don't think we'll get the information you need from it. I'm getting nowhere." He admitted, shame in his voice.
"It must want to tell us." Kozmotis began slowly, his gaze having wandered to the door behind which the shadow was being kept. "Perhaps a more indirect approach will help."
A little intrigued Trismegistus regarded him. "You have an idea how to get it to talk?"
"One more." He turned back to the wizard. "I hope you're a decent actor."
…
The Nightmare Man had turned itself into a black pool at the floor, resting and waiting patiently as any predator would. The wizard had interrogated it for days to no avail, and the Nightmare Man didn't care much for pain, much less feared it. It knew that at some point the Atlantian would give up, and either bring it to that infernal prison, or kill it, which meant the shadow would merely return to the mountain.
A few minutes ago the sage had left it to speak with another mortal, their General as it turned out. They had entered together through the door, but remained there at first. Curious the Dream Pirate watched them talk, though it couldn't hear the words spoken from this distance. Had it been anything else but a shadow upon the ground it would have grinned; it knew of the success of its ilk, the death of the General's family, which gave it a certain satisfaction. If only it could feel the fear that was no doubt spreading among the people even now.
The Nightmare Man's thoughts were interrupted when it saw the two Atlantian coming closer, still conversing. The first words it could make out were spoken by the wizard. "Going to their lair will be dangerous, even suicidal."
"I am well aware that it's their territory, and that we're going to be at a major disadvantage, but I will not sit around and wait any longer." The General replied, his voice indicating that he was brimming with anger and impatience. The two men stopped on their way to the cage of light, seemingly unaware that the Nightmare Man could hear them just fine by now, even from a distance. "Those monsters killed my family."
The wizard took a deep breath. "I know, Milord, but even if we were to know the location of their lair, it would be a long and draining journey. Once you reach it, the men might be too exhausted to even fight the Dream Pirates; you'd be offering them your fleet."
"I do not need to be lectured by a sage, who has hardly ever left the city on matters of warfare. All I've asked you to do was to get the information out of our prisoner. If I want your opinion on anything else I shall let you know, Archmage."
The older man looked rather insulted, his nostrils flaring, his teeth grinding, but he kept his mouth shut. Meanwhile the shadow considered what he'd listened to. Yes, why not lead the Atlantians to the lightless mountain? Nowhere else the shadows were as powerful as in their own home, the place of their creation and rebirth, and a mortal ship would require weeks to reach it, far out on the sea, where there were no other islands nearby, no support or a chance to restock supplies. Hungry, thirsty, overtired and frightened, the Dream Pirates would massacre those arrogant humans, who dared to believe they could defeat fear itself. Oh, how they would pay for their hubris, the Nightmare Man mused in cruel delight. The darkness would consume them.
When the two men eventually reached its prison, the shadow got itself back into a defined shape, but appeared to them as weak and fragile. "Spare us the torture, noble Atlantians. Show us the mercy you are renowned for, and our knowledge shall be at your disposal." It whined pathetically. "We promise, but no more light. We are fear, we are darkness; it pains us more than you can imagine." All the time it made itself shiver, as if it had trouble keeping a solid form.
"You've told me it was uncooperative." The General noted coldly, his gaze wandering back to the wizard, who seemed baffled by the shadow's behavior.
"It was, I swear." There was suspicion in his look, as he regarded the Dream Pirate. "This is surprising to say the least, though I'd be glad if my interrogation has finally paid off."
"We are fear, human, we know it better than anything else, and so we are not completely immune to it ourselves."
"I can vouch for that." The General growled quietly, his fists clenching, as he fought to control his anger.
"We will show you our home, General, but no more light…not the Scythe." This time the shiver was real. The Nightmare Man knew of the death of its kin by the General; every other shadow had felt it, as those at the mansion had disappeared from the world without a trace, leaving nothing to be reborn in the darkness of the mountain. Prior they hadn't believed such a thing was even possible, and it was deeply troubling, but maybe now they could slaughter the Atlantians before they all carried weapons of such power.
"Then I hope for your sake that you'll answer honestly."
…
Trismegistus closed the door behind him. "Who knew; it did work." There was great relief in his voice.
"Apologies for my insolence in there, Archmage." Kozmotis told him, allowing himself to relax. The hatred for the shadow had not been played.
The sage only lifted his hand to stop him, shaking his head a little. "Think nothing of it; it was all played I hope."
Weakly Kozmotis smiled. "Of course, but I though appearing a little headstrong would be helpful."
"You'll be taking it with you on the campaign, I presume?" It was really more an establishment, than a question, and the General confirmed his assumption.
"Yes; a mere description is little helpful on the open sea, and I trust your sages will keep it in check. After that it can join its ilk on Umbra."
Together they began to walk through the corridor, heading to the stairs. When they'd almost reached them, the sage spoke again. "Now that this is done, I will join Ombric for the final preparations. Are you sure about your plan?"
Kozmotis nodded. "I am; I'm afraid it's the only way to get them all."
"Someone else could do your part in it." Trismegistus reminded him hopefully.
"I appreciate your concern, but this is something I must do, and if the past is any indication I may actually survive to tell the tale." Something about the way he said the last part sounded unconvinced, but the wizard decided to ignore it. On the other hand, Kozmotis appeared to have no doubt about the first.
"I'll pray to the divines that you are right." The Archmage went on to say, as they climed the stairs to the surface.
…
Back at Atlantis' harbor, Kozmotis was already being awaited. A lone woman stood at the dock, her dark blue robe with silver ornamentation indicating that she was of the guild. Their paths had already crossed on a few occasions, as it turned out to be Lady Melinoe, once Aemilia's tutor. The sorceress hadn't been around during the Dream Pirates' attack, having spent only two days a week at the mansion.
As soon as the trireme had anchored, Kozmotis approached her, and she bowed politely. "Lady Melinoe, how may I help you?"
"Actually, High General, I was hoping to help you." She spoke, her voice carrying firmness and authority, as would be expected from a senior member of the guild. "I'd like to join you in the coming campaign against the Dream Pirates. If this will truly mark the end of the war, I do not wish to be left out."
Kozmotis already had several sages to join him, and enough to enact his plan. "Please don't mind me asking, Milady, but there is something personal about your request, isn't there?"
She nodded her expression still stern and determined. "You know I was your daughter's tutor in the past, and she was a wonderful girl with much potential." She made a small pause, and sadness showed in her eyes. "I cannot help but wonder how things would have been different, if I had been there, Lord Pitchiner. That is why I wish to come with you."
Now it was Kozmotis' turn to pause, involuntarily taking a deep breath as he did; he had wondered the very same many times during the past days, nay, weeks now. He couldn't decline. "It would be an honor, and I would welcome you on my ship, Milady."
A slight smile showed on her face, and once more she bowed, this time with gratitude. "Thank you, High General; you will not be disappointed."
All of Atlantis had gathered that day to see the fleet off. No cheering, only families saying goodbye to their loved ones, priest giving their blessing to those who requested it. As Kozmotis Pitchiner walked to the dock where his ship was anchored, he spotted Lykos at the edge of the crowd. After a few steps he saw that his friend was talking with his parents, Lord and Lady Sagittarius, and briefly Kozmotis stopped in his tracks. He waited until they had said their farewells, and Lykos continued on to his ship. Barely a word had passed between Pitch and his stepparents, and he felt uncomfortable approaching them, but he couldn't ignore them, nor did he want to any longer. Still, he felt ill at ease as he got walking again, and they saw him. As stood there in front of them, his throat was dry, and Kozmotis bowed deeply.
Amina's father had an arm laid around his wife, the grief not having yet left their faces yet, and Lord Sagittarius nodded appreciatively at his stepson's gesture, however he remained silent. Both were dressed in the color of their house, a deep, forest green, but their attire was simple, no embellishment and no jewelry, as it was common for nobles, to display that they were still in mourning. "I know nothing I could do, will ever rectify what I've allowed to let happen." Kozmotis began, his voice low, so only his stepparents could hear him. "I do not expect you forgive me, and I will not ask for your forgiveness. I'm grateful for all you have done for me, for raising me, and treating me as if I was your own son. I cannot repay you, only do all I can to end this war, and bring your true son back to you." Neither Lord nor Lady Sagittarius said anything, and so he bowed anew after saying. "Milord, Milady; divines bless you."
Not daring to look into their eyes again, Kozmotis continued on. He'd almost walked passed them, when his stepmother took his arm, and surprised he looked back over his shoulder to meet her eyes, so full of sorrow and pain. "Avenge our daughters, son."
Rendered somewhat speechless, he could only nod, with every intention to fulfill her wish.
"And then return to us."
…
Tsar Badr watched she ships depart from a balcony, his personal bodyguard Zopyros standing next to him. "Do you think it was right to let Lord Pitchiner go?" The young sage asked with a low voice.
Zopyros didn't answer right away, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he thought about the question. "I don't think there was a right or wrong decision." He began carefully, and though he was older than Tsar, his voice sounded just as young, almost like that of a boy, yet it was clear and earnest. "I do not know the High General well enough to judge him accurately, but denying him this fight would have likely haunted him for the rest of his life. I believe he must be given the chance to find…closure, to bring this war to an end himself."
"We're Atlantians; we pride ourselves to be above such petty things like revenge."
"With all due respect, Milord, but as honorable as that would be, I do not think we have already come that far. We are still merely human; even when our laws are sophisticated, our emotions remain comparatively...simple." The silver clad guard said carefully.
"Perhaps one day we can live up to our ideals, Zopyros. At least it would hurt if we were to try more often." Tsar noted, breathing in heavily. "I'm aware I cannot know what it feels like to endure what Lord Pitchiner is going through, I won't even pretend, but still…somehow I wish he wouldn't have gone."
To this Zopyros said nothing and together they watched in silence how the fleet was slowly getting smaller, until its ships disappeared behind the horizon, while the crowd below had already long dispersed.
When she awoke, every single muscle in her body felt sore, but she was lying on something softer than the catamaran, and the scent of seawater was no longer in her nose, or the sound of waves in her ears. Very slowly Emily opened her eyes, seeing that she was in a dimly lit room made entirely of wood, the bed was straw covered with furs. She was wearing a long robe, actually too long for her, but dry and clean. Someone had found her, and she breathed deeply with relief.
She rose from her bed and found that her legs wouldn't support her as well as they used to. Days on the sea, and who knew how many days asleep were likely to blame, and so keeping at least one hand at the wall at all times, she made her way to the nearby door. It was thankfully a small room.
Behind the door was a somewhat larger room, dominated by a fireplace in its center, which also seemed to be the kitchen area, next to it a small table with a few chairs and a wall dominated by filled scroll-shelves. No one seemed to be home right now, and so Emily sat down close to the fireplace. To her surprise she saw that the flame was hovering over the ground in a bright yellow. Just to be safe, she rubbed her eyes, but nothing changed, and she was sure she'd ended up in the home of a wizard.
Warming herslef up, Emily waited for almost an hour, before a man entered the house, dressed in simple beige robes, his short hair and beard snow-white and he was carrying a bag full of herbs at his side. As he saw Emily a kind smile spread over his face. "I see you are finally awake." He said friendly, and approached her. "How are you feeling?"
He spoke Atlantian to her delight; she knew a bit Greek and Egyptian but anything else would have posed a problem. "Fine, I suppose." She answered him timidly, her voice rougher than expected. Only now that he was but a few steps away, she saw that one of his brown eyes had gone completely grey and looked blind; it was slightly distressing.
Apparently he picked up on that. "Oh, where are my manner; my name is Typhan, once member of the sage's guild of Atlantis."
"Once?"
He smiled with a hint of regret in his expression. "I now live here on this island as a hermit, but yes, a long time ago I was a respectable wizard of the house Solar."
He was of the Constellations! Maybe her chances of getting home had just increased. "My name is Aemilia Ioanna Pitchiner."
"Pitchiner, Pitchiner." Typhan thought aloud, looking into space as he was trying to remember something. "Ah yes, a smaller noble as I recall, excellent horses though. Judging by your age, you should be the granddaughter of the Lord Pitchiner I knew. Tragic, how he lost his life in battle…" He nodded to himself. "Shortly before I left the island and his child was born. One of your parents I presume."
Emily swallowed hard, trying not to tear up. "My father."
"Another Lord Pitchiner; has he taken after his father, or did he stay on dry land like most of your house?"
Weakly she smiled. "Well, he is High General of the Seas, Lord of the Golden Fleet and Great Protector of Atlantis."
For a moment the old wizard stared at her somewhat baffled. "A Pitchiner instead of a Constellation? Remarkable…, are you alright?" Only now he saw the tears forming in her eyes.
"My parent, they…" Emily started sobbing. Throughout the next hour, Emily told him everything about the war against the Dream Pirates, how her father became High General and faced the shadows over the years, and the worst part, how she watched her mother die when the shadows invaded her home. She knew her mother was dead, but her father. "I don't know about him." She admitted, her tears having finally dried somewhat. "Last time I saw him was, when we said our goodbyes, and he went to stop the very Pirates, which came to our home a day later. I don't know if he simply missed them or if they…if they killed him."
The wizard Typhan was now sitting next to her, not quite sure how to handle this. He'd lived on this island for thirty years, alone, and he hadn't talked to anyone much less a child ever since. Now he had a grief-stricken little girl in his home. "The currents of this realm are tricky, as you've sadly learned the hard way. The current leading to Euthalia, and from it back to Atlantis do not run next to each other, not even parallel. It is possible that they sailed past each other without noticing. Your father could very well be still alive."
A flicker of hope danced in her reddened eyes. "You think?"
He smiled encouragingly. "The man you described seems to be very hard to kill. Perhaps he's even looking for you as we speak."
"He's promised he would always look after me." Emily said, determination having returned to her voice. "He'd search for me, I'm sure, but can't I just return to Atlantis. I know it's not a little thing to asked, but you could bring me back."
"That won't be possible." He admitted regretfully.
It made her desperate. "I'm sure he'd reward you, please get me home, I beg you."
He lifted a hand to stop her, seeing her distress and began to explain. "Lady Aemilia, the currents around us only lead to this island not away from it. Without a few oarsmen and a decent ship you can't leave. I could turn you into an animal, but even if you were to make it to Atlantis, no one could turn you back because to my knowledge I'm the only wizard practising metamorphoses."
Emily had heard of this art, but also knew it was forbidden; it was deemed too dangerous. Nervously she licked over her still dry lips, trying to come up with a solution. "Couldn't you turn us both; you turn me back on Atlantis, and return here?" Emily carefully suggested.
"I'd like to I really would, but last time I turned myself I forgot I was human." He told her, suddenly looking a bit ashamed. "Only after three years did I remember that I wasn't a hawk at all and turned back. What if I forget completely next time, what if we both forget? No, it's too much of a risk. Besides I'm old; who knows if I could make such a distant. I'm afraid all you can do is to wait for your father to get here."
His words seemed to drain her off all hope, and her lower lip trembled. "Why did you have to pick this island?" She complained, hiding her face behind her hands, suppressing new tears. "There are hundreds in this realm, and you pick the one where there is no escape from."
Heavily Typhan sighed. "That was by design, my dear. The guild cast me out because of my experiments with metamorphoses, and I chose an island every sailor avoids. I'm sorry, but this circumstance I could not foresee."
For a while there was silence between them, and then Emily had another idea. "Just recently the guild has started to train me." Excitement grew in her voice. "What if you continued my training, and teach how to morph myself into an animal. That way I can travel on my own, and turn myself back."
For a while he regarded her, as if he was evaluating. "It would take years, and there are risks you forget who you are." The wizard eventually said.
He was starting to annoy her; couldn't he at least pretend for her sake that there was something she could do. "Fine, then that is going to be my backup plan, in case father doesn't find me here, or is…"Emily broke off, unwilling to finish the sentence. "Please, I have to at least try it."
Typhan sighed, but gave in. "Alright, young Lady Pitchiner, I will train you, as soon as you have regained your strength. But remember that is a long process, and you can never display your skills once you're back on Atlantis."
"I promise." This time there were tears of joy in her eyes. "Thank you, thank you Lord Solar."
"Call me Typhan. I haven't been a Lord in many years." He said glad to see her happy. "If you don't mind I will make us something to eat; all I could do so far was giving you water. Can't do magic as skinny and weak as you are right now."
"How long was I out?" Emily felt like she'd been out for weeks, and her stomach had long ago started to protest against the sudden absence of food by cramping uncomfortably.
"Two days, and if my memories still serve me, you must have been at least four days out on sea, even with a strong current carrying you."
"Are there any inhabited island near us?" The more, the more likely it was that her father could come to this particular island.
For a moment Typhan thought about this. "Well, with a ship Atlantis is about three days away and a little island with a hamlet two days going north-east." Emily said nothing, but bit her lower lips; the chances of her father finding her here seemed to be almost depressingly small.
The island was unimposing, merely the peak of a mountain that reached over the waterline, dark grey, with an ominous aura surrounding it. There was a single crack in the rock, enough for someone to enter the mountain though. Pure darkness seemed to crawl out of it. Already the Atlantians had given this place a name during their journey; Erebus, the deepest, utter darkness. About a dozen triremes surrounded the island, likely more than necessary but Lord Pitch wasn't taking any chances.
It was noon, but despite it being a clear day, the sun didn't bring any warmth, the wind blowing cold. Onboard Kozmotis' ship the general was holding a final meeting with the captains accompanying him, Lykos, Scorpio and Virgio, as well as five of the sages, among them Solon and Melinoe.
"Maybe someone else should go, General." Scorpio suggested his expression grim and stern, clearly not pleased with Kosmotis' plan. "Yours is the most dangerous part."
"And the most crucial, which is why I will go." Besides he truly felt like it was his duty; to have every shadow slain or locked up for all eternity…that was what he'd promised. "I trust you in keeping the Dream Pirates occupied." Kozmotis looked over to the sages. "We'll try to enact our plan as soon as we find a suitable position. Hopefully it won't take too long, and we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed."
Virgio frowned, obviously sharing Scorpio's point of view. "And the spell can't be cast up here?"
"We could, but it's risky." Solon weighed in. "The spell has a limited radius, and up here it might not affect every shadow within that mountain. If we don't get them all, some might escape; find refuge elsewhere out of our reach." His words were met by a brief silence.
Kozmotis ended it. "They'll be coming soon. Captains return to your ships, and be on your guard; divines be with you." The three men bowed and left, Lykos looking back one more time, before nodding and following the others. Kozmotis turned to his first officer. "You still wish to join us."
Libra seemed somewhat anxious but determined. "Yes, sir."
"If you insist. Honored sages." He continued, addressing the guild members. "It is about time we depart."
…
Only five minutes later the small group stood waiting at the entrance of the mountain. The sages had cast a spell to avoid detection, as long as they didn't move, to make sure the Dream Pirates would attack the ships, not them. Indeed after a short time, something streamed out of the crack, something like black fog. It kept coming for quite a while, and then it was gone, without a trace. Pitchiner felt tense waiting for what he knew would follow. Mere seconds later shouts and outcries could be heard from the ships, the sound of crossing blades joining in. "Let's not waste any more time."
Kozmotis and Solon went in first, squeezing themselves through the crack, the wizard's staff illuminating the tunnel ahead, Libra, Melinoe along with the other sages right behind them. The path ahead was slim and they needed to walk in single file, the walls lined with sharp stones. Kozmotis felt one cut along his cheeks. He licked away the small stream of blood when it reached his lips. The tunnel snaked its way through the rock, going steadily down, deeper and deeper, and even the darkness appeared to grow thicker and thicker, despite the light from the staffs. Strangely enough unlike in most caves, it didn't get warmer, the air not stuffy, but colder and damper the further they got. It was…unsettling.
After about a quarter of an hour they reached a cavern, the dimensions so enormous that the little light at their disposal could not illuminate the Dream Pirates den in its entirety. The path got slightly broader, spanning over the chasm in front of them like a natural bridge.
Solon looked around; when he spoke his voice was a little nervous and low. "This place will suffice." He concluded. "We need five spots, if possible in equal distance to each other."
"There is a small path to a ledge." Lady Melinoe replied, pointing to their left. "And with a little climbing, one can get up there to another to our right."
Solon nodded. "If one of us stays here, we only need to find two more, but they would need to be located on the other side of the bridge, or close to it."
"I'll take Dareios and get over there."
"Be careful." Kozmotis told the sorceress, his eyes searching the darkness for any movement. "Most of them will be up on the surface by now, but who knows how many stayed here."
"Sir, I'd like to join them, just in case."
The general regarded the officer thoughtfully. "Alright, but stay close to the sages."
Libra nodded, and the three got on their way, slowly crossing the bridge. Only now they saw that it was going in somewhat of an arch, the light of the two staffs soon dim spots in the darkness. Solon and Kozmotis remained at the entry of the cavern, while the other two sages carefully made their way to the positions Lady Melinoe had suggested.
"Do you believe this will work?" Kozmotis asked the wizard quietly, who seemed surprised by the question.
"It has worked with fewer shadows and now that we're five… there is no going back now anyway."
"I know." Pitchiner replied. "I just hope it was the right decision."
…
Meanwhile Libra, Melinoe and Dareios were still on their way. Large stalagmites grew from the ceiling and ledges along the wall, which sometimes was almost close enough to touch, or too far away to make out. The bridge was broad enough for two people to go side by side, and slick from the constantly dripping water. It also went on longer than expected.
"We have to find suitable positions soon." Melinoe reminded them. "If we go too far the spell won't work."
Dareios looked around, finding something to their right. "I could jump to that ledge over there."
The sorceress searched the other half of the cavern. "I think I've found another." She said after a short while of staring into the darkness, before turning to Libra. "Officer, I advise you activate your gauntlet now; as soon as we're gone, our illumination spell won't guard you any longer."
"I understand."
Dareios leaped over the chasm, and indeed managed to land on the ledge, both feet and a hand on the stone. One foot slipped on the wet ground, but he stayed on top. As Melinoe was preparing herself to get to her position, Libra spoke the first words of the incantation. The aura of the sorceress light had hardly left him, the last two words were already on his lips. Suddenly something grabbed him by the ankles. Libra was thrown to the ground, face hitting the stone, and he tasted blood as he instinctively clawed at the ground, when whatever had grabbed him pulled him backwards. Looking over his shoulders he saw a shadow, a true demon, the face not round and mostly featureless, but elongated, like a dog's head without skin, only black muscle, sharp eyes and long fangs like meat hooks.
"Milady!" He shouted, panic gripping his heart, a cold feeling rising from where the shadow held him throughout his entire body.
Melinoe turned around, pointing her staff at the Fearling. Suddenly there was another, similar looking to the first, its claws jamming themselves into Libra's legs, through the armor. He cried out in pain, blood running over his limbs, not noticing the spell that hit one Fearling like a white lightning. The other seemed to notice the danger it was in and pulled harder. Despite the pain he was already in, Libra wouldn't let go of the rock, his finger hurting now just as much as the wounded legs at which the Fearling was still tearing. If he tried to reach for his sword now, he would be dragged down for sure. Lira risked a short glance over to Melinoe, who fought off three more Fearlings, throwing one by one back down into the darkness.
Suddenly Libra lost his hold. No; not like this. For a second everything seemed to slow down as he was dragged backwards, his hands trying to find something to hold on to, but only leaving a trace of blood upon the stone. He reached for the edge, his bloody fingertips slipping off. In his fright, he even forgot to scream. Libra heard the merciless chuckle of a Fearling, claws still deep in the muscles of his legs, as the light of Melinoe's staff grew dimmer. For a moment he could have sworn to have seen her face looking after him from the bridge, as more claws grabbed him, and he fell further into the Erebus.
…
Melinoe saw the young officer losing hold, as she kicked the last Fearling back into the abyss, his eyes widened in terror. She ran to him, letting herself fall onto her knees, hand reaching out for one of his, but his fingers had already slipped off the edge. Leaning over it she watched him falling, seeing the dread plainly writing upon his face, and a dozen pairs of white, sharp eyes behind him in the darkness.
And then there was nothing. No eyes, no last frightful or defying scream, only darkness and nothing stirring in the shadows. Melinoe lifted her upper body to look over to Dareios, whose robe was torn, likely having been attacked as well. He was looking around, as well, searching for more Fearlings, but none came. Focus, she told herself, you must be at your position when Lord Pitch lures them in. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, the sorceress rose, and began to climb to the spot she'd scouted earlier.
…
"Did you hear something?" Both Solon and Kozmotis listened into the darkness. Just seconds ago there had been the faint echo of something like a scream.
"Yes." The general answered him. "I hope the others are alright."
"Time is running out, Lord Pitch. With every minute we stand here more soldiers are being slaughtered." Solon reminded him, his hand tightly gripping the staff, gaze fixed on the bridge ahead.
Kozmotis nodded. "I'm aware, but we only have one chance. One more minute." He decided. "Then I'll go."
The minute went by slowly, and silently they both counted the seconds. Then Kozmotis took the first steps, raising his left gauntlet closer to his mouth. "Teine a-staigh, soilleir dìon." As soon as the last word was spoken, the runes glowed and a white-blue flame ignited, running around it lower arm, flaring up, almost reaching as high as his shoulder, illuminating the surrounding area with a cool, ghostly light. It was fortunate that the fire was as cool as it looked, moving the cloth of his sleeve no more than a light wind would have. Scythe at the ready in his right hand, Kozmotis walked along the bridge, going ever so slightly up. As he neared to top, he could see two more dim lights, no doubt Melinoe and Dareios. He'd expected to see Libra as well, his gauntlet having been imbued with the same spell as his. Kozmotis felt his stomach twist, as he recalled the faint scream, and silently prayed his first officer was with one of the wizards.
From the pouch at his belt, he took out the obsidian stone the Archmages had prepared. Carefully he placed it just in front of him, going down on his knees. With his left hand on top of the stone he spoke the incantation. "Sgàile coimhead, thig a-nall." And all hell broke loose.
…
Captain Scorpio dodged a wide swing of a Fearling, and brought his own axe around, slicing clean through the arm, and then the leg. They needed to keep the Dream Pirates alive, so the trap could be sprung, and Scorpio hated that. Not that the Atlantian soldiers were not used to keeping as many enemies alive as they could, but today it was crucial and it would cost lives. Aside from that the Dream Pirates had changed. No more humanoid shapes, or round featureless faces; this was their territory, and they appeared as nightmarish creatures, twisted in appearance, most heads reminiscent of wolves and dragons, long, angular with snouts full of fangs. Tendrils and thorns grew from their bodies, some feet had turned to hooves or talons, and others had tails. All and all they looked more demon-like than ever.
The captain continued to cut his way through limbs, when he caught something black in the corner of his eye. He cringed when a dark spear stabbed him in the upper thigh. Guided by instinct, his axe slashed through the shadow's hands, and the spear faded, leaving a gushing wound. With every pump of his heart, more blood was being pushed out of the injury. Scorpio tore off a piece of his red cloak, and pressed it upon his thigh to suppress the bleeding. The damn thing had hit his artery or something. Slowly he sunk to his knees, feeling light-headed, keeping himself upright with his weapon. He realized that soon enough a Dream Pirate would take advantage of this situation and finish him off.
"Captain!"
Scorpio looked up to see a Fearling come for him, sword at the ready, when suddenly a man, wearing an officer's blue cloak stepped in its way. The officer cut the arms off and a leg for good measure, before he turned to his captain. It was Alexis Capricorn; about a year ago Scorpio had offered to take him under his command, to punch some sense and discipline into his head. Finally that brat showed some backbone.
"Captain Scorpio, your wound…" Capricorn began.
"Get a sage." Scorpio gasped, blood now running from between his fingers.
"Yes, sir."
The young man had just turned around, when something odd happened. The Dream Pirates lost their shapes, surging up, merging into something like a black cloud above the ships, everyone's eyes fixed at them, watching anxiously. The cloud was in turmoil, moving like a maelstrom over their heads. Suddenly it surged back to the mountain, disappearing back into the darkness from which the shadows had come. Their departure was followed by utter silence. It seemed the High General and the sages had finally prepared the trap. Scorpio broke the quietness, his voice raspy. "Capricorn, stop staring and get that healer!"
…
Deep within the Erebus a few hundred Dream Pirates were resting. They knew of the battle above the surface that the Atlantians had been foolish enough to come here, and challenge them. How laughable. These Fearlings however were still weakened, their physical shapes having been killed only recently, and now reconstituted in the total darkness of the mountain. Never had the sunlight reached the stones here, and never would, the only sound was the dripping water, and the faint whispers of shadows.
Then suddenly something like invisible hooks dug into their essence. They snarled, enraged; who would dare to attack them here? The hooks dragged at them, and the stronger they fought, the stronger they seemed to pull. Fine; if someone wanted to meet them so eagerly, let him have his wish.
…
The first thing he heard was like wind, growing into a howling storm. Out of the darkness the so familiar black fog rose, soon surrounding him; it was like being in the eye of a hurricane, and hoarse whispers, angry hisses and animalistic snarls sounded from it. Hundreds of piercing white eyes appeared in the swirling storm, tendrils of shadows moving closer to him from all sides, retreating when they came too close to the flames, but kept encircling him carefully.
Kozmotis watched them, not understanding what the Dream Pirates were saying, but hearing their displeasure, their rage. The sages would need some minutes to conduct their spell; in the meantime Pitchiner would need to stay alive.
Something merged from the storm, though Kozmotis could only see it once it stepped into the blue light of his gauntlet's flame. First he saw three pairs of white eyes, arrayed above each other, cleaved hooves, each as broad as the bridge. Its face was somewhat like the black skull of a ram, with four long horns, and long fangs; especially the canines were impressive, each about as long as Kozmotis was tall. The rest of the body was mostly obscure, but defiantly hulking, filling the space between the bridge and the ceiling.
"You have come to die, General." The voices came from all around him, though the monster had opened its snout as if to speak.
"I have come to do what I should have done long ago." Kozmotis snarled back, suppressing his rage, his hatred. No mistake now or all would have been for nought.
The following laughter managed to send a shiver down his spine. "Had we known you'd doom most of your fleet for your revenge, mortal, we would have paid your home a visit a long time ago." Nostrils flaring, Kozmotis took a step towards the shadow; he was this close to activating his scythe and damn the consequences, the flame responding, flaring up. "Yes." They hissed from all sides, their voices now almost drilling into his head. "Strike at us, use the spell your sages gave you. Slaughtering a few has all but killed you; come and see how you fare against more than a thousand."
"You think me that foolish? I will not waste my life in such a futile effort. If you want me dead, you'll have to come to me."
"That can be arranged." And with that the monstrous shadow moved again, raising its left arm as far as it could, before bringing it down with all strength. Kozmotis dodged to the side, a foot slipping over the bridge's edge, as an enormous black axe of oily shadows cut through the stone, slimming the natural construction by half. Thankfully the obsidian stone was still intact and wasn't falling with tones of rocks into the abyss, though it was shaking from the impact. The fierce white eyes ignored it, and fixed on the lone human, as it stepped forth with a hoof, making the ground shake anew. "It will be over faster if you hold still."
"I'm not going to make it easy, shadows." Kozmotis growled back.
"Pity." Once more the weapon was lifted.
Just when it came for him, Kozmotis leaped forward, bringing himself behind the now lowered hand, and he brought his scythe around, cutting deep into the wrist. The sheer mass of shadows however proved durable, and the limb wasn't removed, however it made the monster snarl with pain. It gave Lord Pitch great satisfaction to hear it, but he was given no time to enjoy it, or to take another swing, because a Fearling suddenly came out of nowhere. Quickly he blocked its attack with the scythe's shaft, and the Fearling hissed, being too close to the cold blue flames now. As fast as it had come, it disappeared again in the darkness and the dark storm surrounding them. However this didn't mean Kozmotis could take a break, as one of the hooves was about to trample him. He rolled, yet the hoof caught his cape, dragging him back. Holding the scythe with one hand, Kozmotis drew his sword, and cut through the cloth, freeing himself. Even before he was back on his feet again, he'd put the blade away again. The demonic shadow turned around.
"Your resistance is for nought." The voices hissed. "You should have brought more wizards. Yes, we can hear those who came with you whisper, but they will not suffice."
"We brought you all here, didn't we?" He spoke loud and defiantly.
There was something like a snort of derision. "With a spell made by someone far more powerful, yes. But killing us, confining us, is something entirely different."
"That, I will not argue." Despite this, Kozmotis smiled, grim but triumphant. The monster hadn't noticed that it stood above the obsidian stone, and with that the center to which all Dream Pirates were striving towards, was exactly where it needed to be. "This ends here and now."
Before the shadows could move, the runes upon the black stone started glowing bright, a beam of pure, blinding white light reaching up, cutting through the monster. Kozmotis could hear it wailing in agony, as he himself covered his eyes with one arm. He narrowed them as far as he could, without actually closing them, seeing several horizontal beams of light in the darkness of the cavern, enclosing the black maelstrom, connecting the sages with one another. Once more the Dream Pirates' essence was dragged towards a single point, this time into a far more condensed shape. Once he could see again, Kozmotis saw a giant black orb hovering above the bridge, as if carried by the central beam of light from the stone, its surface constantly shifting. Now the other beams came together, as if drawn to the orb, and once all touched upon it, they detached from their sources, and place themselves around the condensed darkness like a cage of light. Only now did Kozmotis allow himself to sink to his knees, and breathed out heavily, pearls of sweat running over his face. It was done, it was actually done.
Every single Dream Pirate captured in this cage, ready to be brought to Umbra, to be shut away for eternity. After a decade this war was finally over…and yet he felt little alleviation or elation. He simply felt tired and drained, and without him realizing, his fingers took hold of the locket now lying upon his chest. For what felt like a very long time, Kozmotis sat there and waited for the others, until from out of the darkness the sages arrived. All of them looked exhausted, depending greatly on their staffs for support as they walked, their faces looking like they'd aged by several years. About half of Lady Melinoe's raven hair had turned silver as well.
Solon was the first to speak, once they all had gathered around the shadow orb. "We've done it." A hint of disbelieve lingered in his voice, his breathing heavily, eyes fixed on the shifting blackness.
"Is it really over?" Dareios asked, sitting down himself as he caught his own breath.
"No." The sorceress was the only one whose voice didn't betray her exhaustion. "Not until we've brought them to Umbra, and they are behind sealed doors."
Silently the others nodded in agreement. Kozmotis turned around to take a better look at everyone, when suddenly a cold feeling ran down his back, and his guts felt like they were being twisted. "Where is Libra?"
Emily ran to the beach, as fast as her legs would carry her, down the hill, almost tripping over her own feet. The trireme was anchoring just off shore, a small ship's boat having just landed on the island.
And there he was, standing at the shore, looking at her, disbelieving his own fortune at having finally found her. He sank to his knees, not caring that he was still standing in the water, catching her, pressing her closely against him, as she immediately threw her arms around him. Together they sat there on the beach, him cowering on the wet sand, her sitting on his legs, waves washing around them. Together the shed tears, exuberantly happy and grateful to be united again, his hand combing through her hair. Emily felt like she never wanted to let go again. He had come for her, he had finally found her.
"Emily." She could her him whisper breathlessly.
"Father." She managed to reply between sobs. "You came for me."
"I told you I would." There was nothing else on this world that she wanted more.
…
Emily opened her eyes again, and her hands clenched the fur on which she lay, until the straw stung her palms painfully. A single tear ran from her eyes. So many days had passed, and turned into weeks. Every night her dreams showed her parents, and she wasn't sure if it was worse to see her mother die all over again, or see her father find her, only to wake up and realize that it may never be more than a dream; it was taunting, it was almost torturous.
Like every morning before Typhan was awake, she went to the beach to wander along the coastline, searching the horizon for any sign of a ship. The seagulls were screaming above her head, as she wrapped her cloak tightly around her. This early in the morning the air was still cool and autumn was coming. Emily followed the path from the hut in the forest down to the coast, and kept walking for the next two hours. Like every other morning before, no ship showed itself, and frustrated Emily sat down on a convenient and dry rock, staring out at the sea. By now the sky had turned from pale orange to blue and soon she would have to return to the hut. Emily pulled up her legs, and wrapped her arms around them, as the first waves washed against the rock. The tide was coming in. About ten minutes later, she went back to Typhan's house.
…
After breakfast she returned to the shore, this time with the wizard. She got into the water, which was still very cold, trousers turned up. Sternly she spoke the words she'd been taught by Typhan. "Uisge, cluinn mo gairm, faigh riaghladh." Taking a few deep breaths she lifted her arms in front of her until they were parallel to the water surface. Slowly she moved her arms to the right, the water around her following her movements obediently, and she lifted her arms further, raising a wave until it reached up to her hips. One hand moved in a semi-circle, so palm faced palm, as if she was holding something round in her hands, the wave turning into an orb hovering above the water. Keeping her hands in position, Emily began to move her arms, guiding the water in front of her.
"The orb is losing water." The wizard's voice came from behind her. "Keep your mind focused; you must feel the water under your control, as if it was part of your body." He told her this almost every day, and by now it was nothing but annoying. "You cannot master metamorphoses if you can't even control inanimate objects. A transforming spell will change every bone, every organ, every single blood vessel in your body; if you lose control in such a critical moment, if your mind is too deviated from your actions, it will kill you."
Emily kept herself from giving him a snippy remark. When she'd come to him just a few weeks ago, Emily had only known a single spell. Of course she wanted to leave this island as soon as possible, master metamorphoses, but she was certainly no miracle worker, and this was exhausting. Every day he trained her, and often she would fall into bed just after dinner, asleep before she hit the pillow.
Weeks had passed since the battle of Erebus, and the Atlantian Council had gathered once more in their circular hall beneath the painted firmament. All fourteen nobles, along with the four Archmages and –priests were gathered, and King Thais Aquarius was addressing the council with something that greatly bothered him. "The High General Pitchiner has requested to guard the prison on his own."
First there was silence, most Lords surprised or confused by this news, looking at each other or the King questioningly. "It's madness; the guards can barely take more than a month as it is." Lord Solar said, breaking the silence.
The Lord of house Taurus seemed to disagree. "Lord Pitch has proven time and time again that he can prevail against the shadows. Even in the Erebus they could not defeat him, and the tragic loss of his family has provided him with motivation. I think we can safely assume that no shadow will ever escape as long as he keeps watch over Umbra."
"I don't think anyone here doubts his skill or his determination, but should we approve it?" Tsar Lunar had taken the word; Lord Pitchiner had come to both Kings with his request, and both had tried to convince him to reconsider, without success. "He still seeks justice for his family, and I fear with confining him with those shadows, we enable his revenge. For his own sake it might be for the better if we decline and keep the guard rotating as it is now."
"Is the safety of our realm, maybe the entire world not more important? We must make sure no Dream Pirate will ever roam our world again, and threaten humanity. I don't think we can find someone more suitable than our High General."
"And you Lord Aries are not saying this because you want one of your house to be the new Lord of the Golden Fleet?" Lunar suggested, eyes narrowed.
"I will not reply to such a ridiculous accusation." His Lordship growled.
Once more Aquarius spoke, standing up to enforce his words. "Milords please; the matter of discussion is whether we allow our valued General to become the permanent guard of Umbra, or if we keep him in charge of our Fleet."
"I don't think we should let him lead our armies any longer; ever since the attack on his home he has isolated himself, worse so after the Erebus. Whether we send him away or not, he's certainly no longer fit for duty." Lord Gemini weight in.
"If that's the case he must remain here; otherwise he'll never recover."
Lord Leo scoffed. "The soft thinking of the house Virgio. Having him here doing nothing is hardly going to be helpful. He's a warrior, he is someone who must act to find his peace. Not be kept caged in and shepherded like a child."
A frown showed on Lord Libra's face. "And being confined to a prison is preferable how?"
"Every day confining the Dream Pirates away from us might lower is sense of guild. He will succeed in something he thinks he's failed in before; keeping the shadows from reaching us, reaching Atlantis, killing the innocent. Besides if you worry so much, there are supply ships going to Umbra every month. It will not be difficult to have them check on his condition, and respond should he worsen or any unforeseen complications arise."
"It would seem you have dedicated much thought into this, Lord Leo." Lord Virgio said, keeping his anger about the earlier comment in check.
A proud smile played on Leo's lips. "Mine is a Constellation of warriors; we're not unfamiliar with circumstances like the one our High General finds himself in."
"Have you lost your family?" Lord Sagittarius' voice was low, but it caught everyone's attention nonetheless. His gaze was lowered on the semi-circular table they all sat at.
"No; we have been fortunate in that regard."
Amina's father looked up, meeting Leo's eyes, who suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Then do not speak as if you understood."
"Do you believe he should be allowed to go?" Lunar asked rather carefully.
"Ultimately, I will leave this decision to him. My family would have welcomed him, as we've always done, but he declined." Sagittarius explained. "His mind his made up, and we cannot help him, unless he changes it."
No one spoke for a while. Lunar searched, waiting for someone to take the word, but all seemed in deep thought. Even Ombric Shalazar was unusually quiet. Tsar Lunar knew the Archmage had already spoken with Lord Pitchiner, and had not been able to make him reconsider his request either. It had been a rather short, but heated discussion, with Ombric trying to tell his friend to let go, start anew. Aghast, Lord Pitchiner had then left the guild without another word. In retrospect, Ombric admitted to regret his poor choice of words.
After a few minutes had passed, and when still nobody spoke, Thais Aquarius rose anew, looking over his fellow nobles. "I say we listen to Lord Leo's suggestion, and for now allow Lord Pitchiner to guard the prison. He'll be checked on monthly by the guild's sages onboard the supply ships, and should he be compromised, or seem unfit to continue his duty, we shall reinstate the previous guard rotation. I'd ask all in favor to raise their hands."
Twelve hands went up.
Slowly the sun was rising in the east, throwing the first light upon the dismal island of Umbra. The few crippled trees and patches of grass bent gently in the wind, as Kozmotis Pitchiner, former High General of the Seas, stood at the plateau, watching the supply ship that had brought him here leave. Already the ship was difficult to make out, but he was in no hurry to enter the prison, his new home. He would spend the rest of his life here making sure no shadow would escape and haunt mankind again. Automatically his hand reached for the golden locket around his neck, and he took a deep breath; he had not been able to keep them safe, and maybe he had volunteered to make amends for his greatest failure. He only knew that going to Erebus to seek his revenge had done little if nothing to ease the guild he felt.
Kozmotis released the locket again and turned around, when the ship was but a point on the horizon, walking towards the tomb-like prison in the mountain, the grey stone dead and unwelcoming. He didn't care and walked in, his eyes first directed to the heavy door straight ahead on the far side of the room, with the dimly glowing pentagram upon it. Never again would this door be opened, and it was a shame they couldn't seal it completely, but every change of the prison at this point was far too dangerous. Combined the shadows were terrifyingly powerful, and even the smallest weak point would allow them to break out, and so the door would remain.
Tired he sat down on one of the chairs at the fireplace, turning a log with an iron poker to get it burning again. The sad truth was that he had nothing to return to. Certainly as the High General he could have remained on the seas for the rest of his days, but when any family reminded you of your own, when every look you received was full of pity, and people whispered behind your back things they did not dare discuss in your presence. No, his place was now here, keeping a promise; to have every shadow slain or locked up for all eternity.
Chrysos closed the temple doors behind him, the sun rising to his right between the mountains. One last time he stopped a few stairs down, looking back at the temple he'd called home for his entire life. The young priest doubted he would ever see it again.
Only a few days ago Eusebios had passed away, thanks to Chrysos' treatment peacefully in his sleep, instead in pain, wide awake. Heavy hearted, despite having always wished to go visit someplace else, he descended the stairway to the hamlet, with a simple leather bag with all his possessions, and a cloak over his shoulders. He could feel a warm tear running down his cheek. Nothing truly kept him here any longer, and he knew out there more people needed his help. Who knew, perhaps he could even find the cause for all this, the source of the shadows, and in his mind he prayed to the Oneiroi for their blessing and to Hermes to protect him on his journey.
At the only street leading from the hamlet, Chrysos found who he was looking for. Just a week earlier, before Eusebios had crossed to the other side, merchants, travelling with their entire families, had stopped here on their way through, one of the children having been plagued by the shadows. Now Chrysos hoped they would take him with them, at least for a while.
The one in charge was middle-aged man, wearing a brown chiton and cloak, his black hair and beard kept short and a little curly. He seemed surprised to see Chrysos as he packed the last things together for departure. "Young priest, what do we own the honor of your visit?" His voice turned seldom. "We have heard of your mentor and included him in our prayers." Gratefully the young man bowed, before the merchant continued. "Have you come to bless our trip?"
Chrysos shook his head and showed him the wax tablet he'd prepared. The other man read it, growing more surprised, and looked at him with a questioning glance. "You wish to travel with us?"
This time he nodded and added something on the tablet. Your child was not the only one, plagued by demons. I must seek out those who require my help. I humbly request that I may travel with you for a while.
The merchant considered his request for a few moments, and then slowly nodded. "If you truly wish to join us, we'd be honored. It is the least we can do for what you've done for my daughter."
Chrysos bowed anew to convey his gratitude. Finally his journey would begin.
Characters from the original books: Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Emily Jane Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar & Tsarina Lunar, Tsar (Badr) Lunar/MiM, Sandman (Chrysos), Nightlight (Zopyros), Typhan, Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men
Why purple for the wedding attire? The color had a cultural and religious significance: In ancient Rome the Toga praetexta, a white toga with a broad purple stripe on its border was worn, among others, by many priests and dignitaries. The Toga picta was solid purple, embroidered with gold, worn by generals during the ceremony known as the Roman triumph/tiumphus, celebrating and sanctifying their latest military success. Last, the three kinds of the Toga trabea, one purple only, for the gods; another purple with a little white, for kings; and a third, with scarlet stripes and a purple hem for augurs and Salii(priests of Mars). Even today some church dignitaries are wearing purple.
Erebus: In Greek mythology often conceived as a primordial deity, representing the personification of darkness. Also perceived as the place of darkness between earth and Hades; the latter made the name seem rather suitable for the mountain.
Spells:
Teine a-staigh, soilleir dìon: teine =fire, a-staigh=inside/within, soilleir=bright/shining, dìon=protection/refuge
Sgàile coimhead, thig a-nall: sgàile=shadow/ghost/shade, coimhead=appear/show up, thig=come/arrive, a-nall=here/hither
Uisge, cluinn mo gairm, faigh riaghladh: uisge=water, cluinn=listen to/hear, mo=my, gairm=call/shout, faigh=accept, riaghladh=control/guidance/rule/reign