IV. Awakened
Beyond the mountains to
the north, past the three great rivers of the empire, lies a town without a
name. Even before it had a chance to find a name for itself, Death took away
much of what it held. Only the stale air walked the short length of this
village, oblivious that this is where Death is born. Nobody saw Death take its
final form after its ‘birth’; even the spirits faded away, their essence robbed
by the hungry one. And when Death left to feed itself, the nameless village was
forever forgotten. No map would ever find it; no road will ever lead to it.
Only the sun and the two moons knew of its presence, for its shadow still
haunts each day and night in silence.
But beneath the age-old
remains of the town lies another creature, another unnamed one. Sleeping,
waiting, this beast took the form of a little girl when it was awake and it has
remained such ever since. There was a reason then, but it was lost, thrown away
without care, for it did not matter whatever form the beast has taken.
But the long sleep was over.
Something stirred in the air. Whispers were heard in the cave where it
slumbered, and it was something beyond the beast’s power. Following the
whispers was the stench, left behind by Death’s feast in a city a hundred days
away.
Driven by the calls, the
beast, at long last, awakened. When it opened its eyes, all it can see was the
little girl’s body still wrapped around its soul. Power must have abandoned the beast
during its sleep, much like everything and everyone in the village.
The beast stood up and
stared at the strange light coming from the cave’s doors, forgetting what it
was like to wake up in the morning.
IV. Awakened
Beyond the mountains to
the north, past the three great rivers of the empire, lies a town without a
name. Even before it had a chance to find a name for itself, Death took away
much of what it held. Only the stale air walked the short length of this
village, oblivious that this is where Death is born. Nobody saw Death take its
final form after its ‘birth’; even the spirits faded away, their essence robbed
by the hungry one. And when Death left to feed itself, the nameless village was
forever forgotten. No map would ever find it; no road will ever lead to it.
Only the sun and the two moons knew of its presence, for its shadow still
haunts each day and night in silence.
But beneath the age-old
remains of the town lies another creature, another unnamed one. Sleeping,
waiting, this beast took the form of a little girl when it was awake and it has
remained such ever since. There was a reason then, but it was lost, thrown away
without care, for it did not matter whatever form the beast has taken.
But the long sleep was over.
Something stirred in the air. Whispers were heard in the cave where it
slumbered, and it was something beyond the beast’s power. Following the
whispers was the stench, left behind by Death’s feast in a city a hundred days
away.
Driven by the calls, the
beast, at long last, awakened. When it opened its eyes, all it can see was the
little girl’s body still wrapped around its soul. Power must have abandoned the beast
during its sleep, much like everything and everyone in the village.
The beast stood up and
stared at the strange light coming from the cave’s doors, forgetting what it
was like to wake up in the morning.
huh
September 27, 2006
Interesting.
abangan pala ang chapter IV ng Lone Road! 
III. Whispers
A long conversation was inevitable. Dogan kept on reading the same paper, the same news. Elso just sat down, listening, his thoughts still reeling from the morning shock. He didn’t take the time to prepare for his breakfast—rather, he had forgotten it. The reddish sunlight peering through the half-open windows and cracked ceiling filled the room with an eerie glow that reminded him more of the massacre that took place two days away from his town.
“No survivors, just a city filled with ‘sleeping’ dead people, is that how it is, huh?” Dogan said, concluding his long tirade. He sat down at the only empty chair and put down the overused paper on the table.
“I guess,” replied Elso, still deep in his thoughts.
“But…how? How can anyone kill…everyone just like that?”
Elso was thinking the same thing. How could anyone—or anything—murder almost a million people without leaving a mark? Surely, someone must have seen who—or what—did it…
“Hey, Elso, you still with me?” Dogan started tapping the table.
“Well…I guess a plague or something must have done it.”
Dogan snorted. “I know some plagues that can kill a fishing village in a fortnight, but a city as big as Dagoria in a night? That’s just…impossible.”
Elso took the paper and started poring over the same news. “Don’t you find it odd that some of the people outside the city were unharmed?”
“Well I thought about that. It’s as if—”
“Death came specifically upon the city, yeah. If it’s some sort of a disease that took these lives and this fast, I might as well live somewhere else.”
“I think some people are already doing that,” said Dogan, pointing at the window.
Elso looked around. A small crowd was passing by with their wagons, all of them carrying what seemed like everything they owned. Seeing this, Elso stood up and headed outside. He saw some of his neighbors were outside as well, curious but distressed. Some waved goodbyes at friends, others seemed itching to pack, too, and leave the town. The wagons moved slowly, creaking and wobbling as its wheels turn inch by inch. The cows pulling the wagons seemed to be in mourning, too, with nary a sound except for their tails swatting their backsides.
Dogan followed him outside. “Look at all those people. Seems like Gargan Roo will be a little bit more spacious today than yesterday.”
“Less customers though. Yeah, that would be good.”
“Well, your ‘mystic potions’ business isn’t much of a business anyway.”
“Shut up. Look who’s back to get more my ‘mystic potions.’”
Amidst the swarm of people walking towards town gates, Elso saw someone familiar walking towards them. It was his frequent customer, Jien, carrying an armful of bottled potions Elso recognized as the ones he sold to him the other day.
“Good morning, Jien. Back already? I still have the same stock, so might have to return next week at the earliest.”
“No, no, I’m…uh…actually, I’m returning these,” Jien said, handing him the bottles.
“But—I thought you—”
“This may come as a surprise, but my family and I decided to leave Roo.”
Somehow, this did not come as a surprise to Elso. Jien is a very superstitious man, with only the Prophet Iula from the temple to match his frailty. That is the reason he is Elso’s frequent customer.
“But Jien, you’ve been living here for years!” Dogan interrupted. “You have a life here! You’re leaving because of what happened?”
“Not just that! Didn’t you hear the whispers three days ago?”
“What?”
“The whispers! They were all over the air that day. Coursing through the town like some messenger in the winds!”
“Are you sure Elso here didn’t give you the wrong potion? Because you seemed more…edgy today.”
“It’s true! I thought someone was playing tricks on me again that day, but I realized that these…these whispers, these calls, were beyond usual jests I usually get.”
“You shouldn’t be talking like that, Jien,” Elso said, “especially today.”
“I swear to the heavens it’s true! The whispers were everywhere, telling everyone who would listen that we will all perish before the second moon returns! And look, Dagoria’s dead! All gone! Dead!” Jien was flailing his arms everywhere, sweating and at the brink of hysteria. Some of the bottles fell from his grip, breaking and spilling its liquid on the road.
“You better calm down, old man, or you’re going to leave the town wrapped in burial clothing,” Dogan said, quite alarmed by the racket Jien was making.
“Oh, sorry. It’s just…things are different now. Frighteningly different if I might add. Ever since the Passage, the currents have turned eastward, civil war in the southern province, the Sunset Plague returning—everything seems…changed.”
“But we are two days away from Dagoria,” said Elso. “Surely—”
“I won’t risk my children’s lives, Elso, never. I’m leaving Roo just to be sure. We’ll be back when things get…calmer.”
Rather than argue with a man with his mind already made up, Elso took the bottles from Jien and returned his money. “Where are you going anyway?”
“To my aunt living near Kebala. I already sent her a letter, so I guess she wouldn’t mind taking us all in. Well, the day is young for you two, so you better spend your time for something more worthwhile. I’ll be going now.” Jien bowed, shook their hands, and walked away. The two watched him head to the town gates where his family was waiting. They walked slowly outside, with Jien guiding the cow as it pulls the wagon.
“Poor guy.” Dogan said. “He was always the first to bend when the wind was too strong. Bless his soul.”
Elso walked inside and started placing the bottles back in the drawers, again lost in his thoughts.
III. Whispers
A long conversation was inevitable. Dogan kept on reading the same paper, the same news. Elso just sat down, listening, his thoughts still reeling from the morning shock. He didn’t take the time to prepare for his breakfast—rather, he had forgotten it. The reddish sunlight peering through the half-open windows and cracked ceiling filled the room with an eerie glow that reminded him more of the massacre that took place two days away from his town.
“No survivors, just a city filled with ‘sleeping’ dead people, is that how it is, huh?” Dogan said, concluding his long tirade. He sat down at the only empty chair and put down the overused paper on the table.
“I guess,” replied Elso, still deep in his thoughts.
“But…how? How can anyone kill…everyone just like that?”
Elso was thinking the same thing. How could anyone—or anything—murder almost a million people without leaving a mark? Surely, someone must have seen who—or what—did it…
“Hey, Elso, you still with me?” Dogan started tapping the table.
“Well…I guess a plague or something must have done it.”
Dogan snorted. “I know some plagues that can kill a fishing village in a fortnight, but a city as big as Dagoria in a night? That’s just…impossible.”
Elso took the paper and started poring over the same news. “Don’t you find it odd that some of the people outside the city were unharmed?”
“Well I thought about that. It’s as if—”
“Death came specifically upon the city, yeah. If it’s some sort of a disease that took these lives and this fast, I might as well live somewhere else.”
“I think some people are already doing that,” said Dogan, pointing at the window.
Elso looked around. A small crowd was passing by with their wagons, all of them carrying what seemed like everything they owned. Seeing this, Elso stood up and headed outside. He saw some of his neighbors were outside as well, curious but distressed. Some waved goodbyes at friends, others seemed itching to pack, too, and leave the town. The wagons moved slowly, creaking and wobbling as its wheels turn inch by inch. The cows pulling the wagons seemed to be in mourning, too, with nary a sound except for their tails swatting their backsides.
Dogan followed him outside. “Look at all those people. Seems like Gargan Roo will be a little bit more spacious today than yesterday.”
“Less customers though. Yeah, that would be good.”
“Well, your ‘mystic potions’ business isn’t much of a business anyway.”
“Shut up. Look who’s back to get more my ‘mystic potions.’”
Amidst the swarm of people walking towards town gates, Elso saw someone familiar walking towards them. It was his frequent customer, Jien, carrying an armful of bottled potions Elso recognized as the ones he sold to him the other day.
“Good morning, Jien. Back already? I still have the same stock, so might have to return next week at the earliest.”
“No, no, I’m…uh…actually, I’m returning these,” Jien said, handing him the bottles.
“But—I thought you—”
“This may come as a surprise, but my family and I decided to leave Roo.”
Somehow, this did not come as a surprise to Elso. Jien is a very superstitious man, with only the Prophet Iula from the temple to match his frailty. That is the reason he is Elso’s frequent customer.
“But Jien, you’ve been living here for years!” Dogan interrupted. “You have a life here! You’re leaving because of what happened?”
“Not just that! Didn’t you hear the whispers three days ago?”
“What?”
“The whispers! They were all over the air that day. Coursing through the town like some messenger in the winds!”
“Are you sure Elso here didn’t give you the wrong potion? Because you seemed more…edgy today.”
“It’s true! I thought someone was playing tricks on me again that day, but I realized that these…these whispers, these calls, were beyond usual jests I usually get.”
“You shouldn’t be talking like that, Jien,” Elso said, “especially today.”
“I swear to the heavens it’s true! The whispers were everywhere, telling everyone who would listen that we will all perish before the second moon returns! And look, Dagoria’s dead! All gone! Dead!” Jien was flailing his arms everywhere, sweating and at the brink of hysteria. Some of the bottles fell from his grip, breaking and spilling its liquid on the road.
“You better calm down, old man, or you’re going to leave the town wrapped in burial clothing,” Dogan said, quite alarmed by the racket Jien was making.
“Oh, sorry. It’s just…things are different now. Frighteningly different if I might add. Ever since the Passage, the currents have turned eastward, civil war in the southern province, the Sunset Plague returning—everything seems…changed.”
“But we are two days away from Dagoria,” said Elso. “Surely—”
“I won’t risk my children’s lives, Elso, never. I’m leaving Roo just to be sure. We’ll be back when things get…calmer.”
Rather than argue with a man with his mind already made up, Elso took the bottles from Jien and returned his money. “Where are you going anyway?”
“To my aunt living near Kebala. I already sent her a letter, so I guess she wouldn’t mind taking us all in. Well, the day is young for you two, so you better spend your time for something more worthwhile. I’ll be going now.” Jien bowed, shook their hands, and walked away. The two watched him head to the town gates where his family was waiting. They walked slowly outside, with Jien guiding the cow as it pulls the wagon.
“Poor guy.” Dogan said. “He was always the first to bend when the wind was too strong. Bless his soul.”
Elso walked inside and started placing the bottles back in the drawers, again lost in his thoughts.
II. Morning
“Elso! Elso! Open the
door!”
There was an unusually
loud knock on the door–someone must be impatient yet desperate.
“Elso!”
By the third pounding of
the door, the boy was quite awake. Irritated by the too-early call by his
neighbor, Elso took his time fixing his shirt and finding his often-lost
slippers.
“Elso!” The knocking was
relentless. Elso was impressed that the old door can take beating such as
this—although he reminded himself that it was his father who made that door,
which kind of explained why the door was sturdy in the first place.
Elso dragged himself to
the only window of his room. He barely noticed the reddish morning sunlight
filling up his room when he heard the woman cry out yet again.
“Elso! Elso! Please!”
Not wanting to welcome an
unwelcome guest, he pulled the locks on the windows instead and peered outside.
It was his neighbor, the baker’s wife, from the other end of the street,
carrying a piece of crumpled paper and basket yet to be filled by the morning
trip to market. Seeing the troubled look on her face, he went back and decided
to head for the door. It took him another minute to open all locks; there was
one at the top of the door, three at the bottom, and five near the door knob.
After freeing the door from all of its locks, he opened the it and came face
to face with his sobbing neighbor.
“Madam Korda—”
“Elso, look at this! Look
at this!” the woman pressed the
pressed the paper to his hands. He could feel her hands were trembling. “This
was given out by the minister himself at the market!”
“But…what’s this?”
“News! News from the
city—oh, it’s horrible!” The woman finally let herself cry.
Elso straightened out the
paper and found himself horror-struck. There was only one story, but this one
story left him lost for words. According to reports coming from the nearby town
of Gelden, a massacre beyond imagination took place in the
great city of Dagoria two nights ago. No survivors were found except
for a group traveling merchants who left the town earlier that day—and all were
detained until the Imperial investigators arrive. Some of the people living
beyond the walls of the city were unharmed—they, too, were detained. There were
no witnesses, no evidence, nothing. The only proof that massacre really took
place were the remains—almost a million of them—of those Dagorians who, according
to reports, simply never woke up.
“It’s…it’s terrible,”
Elso said, still lost for words. He folded the paper and gave it back to the
woman, who refused.
“No, I…you can have it…”
“Uh, would you like to
come in? Would you like a–”
“No, lad, I’d rather go
home…tell Goni the news. Tell everyone.” The woman stepped back and walked
away, a little calm but still sobbing.
Elso watched her until
she disappeared at the road bend. He realized the people walking by were either
running with the same piece of paper and knocking on every door or walking,
whispering with a friend, their eyes telling the tales of a horror beyond
grief. He could see some of the traders closing their shops in haste; others
calling out the young ones playing on the street. Carriages passed by in silence;
no doubt its passengers were already aware of the news. Some of his neighbors
gave him an empty greeting, and he politely gave them an empty reply. Realizing
that this day would last longer than the others, he went back inside and closed
the doors, forgetting that the locks were left open.
Elso opened the paper
once more. A second reading would somehow reassure him, he thought, but there
was nothing more to read. The city of Dagoria, dead?
There was another knock
at the door.
“Elso!”
He realized the voice at
once. In fact, he was expecting for that voice to call out any time now. Elso
went back and opened the door. He found himself looking at Dogan sitting in
front of the door and out of breath. He must have run from straight from the
market, Elso thought. When Dogan saw him, he held up the same piece of
paper.
“Way ahead of you.”
II. Morning
“Elso! Elso! Open the
door!”
There was an unusually
loud knock on the door–someone must be impatient yet desperate.
“Elso!”
By the third pounding of
the door, the boy was quite awake. Irritated by the too-early call by his
neighbor, Elso took his time fixing his shirt and finding his often-lost
slippers.
“Elso!” The knocking was
relentless. Elso was impressed that the old door can take beating such as
this—although he reminded himself that it was his father who made that door,
which kind of explained why the door was sturdy in the first place.
Elso dragged himself to
the only window of his room. He barely noticed the reddish morning sunlight
filling up his room when he heard the woman cry out yet again.
“Elso! Elso! Please!”
Not wanting to welcome an
unwelcome guest, he pulled the locks on the windows instead and peered outside.
It was his neighbor, the baker’s wife, from the other end of the street,
carrying a piece of crumpled paper and basket yet to be filled by the morning
trip to market. Seeing the troubled look on her face, he went back and decided
to head for the door. It took him another minute to open all locks; there was
one at the top of the door, three at the bottom, and five near the door knob.
After freeing the door from all of its locks, he opened the it and came face
to face with his sobbing neighbor.
“Madam Korda—”
“Elso, look at this! Look
at this!” the woman pressed the
pressed the paper to his hands. He could feel her hands were trembling. “This
was given out by the minister himself at the market!”
“But…what’s this?”
“News! News from the
city—oh, it’s horrible!” The woman finally let herself cry.
Elso straightened out the
paper and found himself horror-struck. There was only one story, but this one
story left him lost for words. According to reports coming from the nearby town
of Gelden, a massacre beyond imagination took place in the
great city of Dagoria two nights ago. No survivors were found except
for a group traveling merchants who left the town earlier that day—and all were
detained until the Imperial investigators arrive. Some of the people living
beyond the walls of the city were unharmed—they, too, were detained. There were
no witnesses, no evidence, nothing. The only proof that massacre really took
place were the remains—almost a million of them—of those Dagorians who, according
to reports, simply never woke up.
“It’s…it’s terrible,”
Elso said, still lost for words. He folded the paper and gave it back to the
woman, who refused.
“No, I…you can have it…”
“Uh, would you like to
come in? Would you like a–”
“No, lad, I’d rather go
home…tell Goni the news. Tell everyone.” The woman stepped back and walked
away, a little calm but still sobbing.
Elso watched her until
she disappeared at the road bend. He realized the people walking by were either
running with the same piece of paper and knocking on every door or walking,
whispering with a friend, their eyes telling the tales of a horror beyond
grief. He could see some of the traders closing their shops in haste; others
calling out the young ones playing on the street. Carriages passed by in silence;
no doubt its passengers were already aware of the news. Some of his neighbors
gave him an empty greeting, and he politely gave them an empty reply. Realizing
that this day would last longer than the others, he went back inside and closed
the doors, forgetting that the locks were left open.
Elso opened the paper
once more. A second reading would somehow reassure him, he thought, but there
was nothing more to read. The city of Dagoria, dead?
There was another knock
at the door.
“Elso!”
He realized the voice at
once. In fact, he was expecting for that voice to call out any time now. Elso
went back and opened the door. He found himself looking at Dogan sitting in
front of the door and out of breath. He must have run from straight from the
market, Elso thought. When Dogan saw him, he held up the same piece of
paper.
“Way ahead of you.”
I. Return
Well
into the night, where a sheet of glimmering souls lay still during the darkest
of days, faint footsteps were heard across the empty road leading to city. With
it came a cold breeze seldom felt in the village. Candles and lampposts yielded,
leaving the dark path even darker. A lone wolf cried from afar, unaware that
its call would never be heard—the villagers were kept inside their village, cold
and without life. The footsteps, still faint, grew heavier as it nears the
bend. Without the light to unravel even its trail, the nameless, faceless
creature continued on feeding, taking away every inch of life from the sleeping
village, and heading towards the feast that called its hunger in the first
place: Dagoria.
The
faint footsteps grew quicker and even heavier, a chilling excitement brought
about by the strange light coming from the city drew the beast wilder. The road
ahead seemed longer than before, the vile creature realized, but it was
nothing. Inside its possessed mind, hunger was the only call it could heed.
Dagoria
slept soundly tonight.
* * *
I. Return
Well
into the night, where a sheet of glimmering souls lay still during the darkest
of days, faint footsteps were heard across the empty road leading to city. With
it came a cold breeze seldom felt in the village. Candles and lampposts yielded,
leaving the dark path even darker. A lone wolf cried from afar, unaware that
its call would never be heard—the villagers were kept inside their village, cold
and without life. The footsteps, still faint, grew heavier as it nears the
bend. Without the light to unravel even its trail, the nameless, faceless
creature continued on feeding, taking away every inch of life from the sleeping
village, and heading towards the feast that called its hunger in the first
place: Dagoria.
The
faint footsteps grew quicker and even heavier, a chilling excitement brought
about by the strange light coming from the city drew the beast wilder. The road
ahead seemed longer than before, the vile creature realized, but it was
nothing. Inside its possessed mind, hunger was the only call it could heed.
Dagoria
slept soundly tonight.
* * *
uninteresting stuff, really
September 13, 2006
just when I thought I could live without it, BAM!
