Authors: Brian Braden
Sana grabbed Atamoda’s arm and pointed up, shouting above the gale. “Look! Do you see it?”
Atamoda wiped the rain from her eyes and peered straight up into the stormy vault. Pillars of glowing clouds towered into the heavens, trading lightning as if they battled one another for the little flotilla at their feet. And then Atamoda saw it, or
thought
she saw it. Each lightning bolt silhouetted black wings stretching across the sky. Two glowing red orbs floated at their center.
Before Atamoda could scream, the Wedding Barge pitched down and buried itself into an oncoming wave.
The raft shot from under the waves. Atamoda fought for breath as she searched the rope for the children. They were all there, the women gripping them tightly.
Except for Ba-tor.
She looked back and, to her relief, saw her terrified little boy clinging to the mast. She released the line, seized him and hugged the mast.
A moment later, Sana joined them.
She felt the raft lurch broadside to the wind, followed by sickening splintering sounds which competed with the thunder. Around them, the flotilla they called home for the past 40 days began to disintegrate.
“The sea anchor is gone, I can feel it.” She squeezed Sana’s hand. “Here we are again!”
“At least I can swim a little now,” Sana smiled nervously.
Whitewater shot over them like raking claws, smashing raft chunks and boats against those clinging to the decks. Something slithered next to the mast, making Atamoda jump in fright. Then, to her horror, she realized it was the Spine, that mighty cable they’d spent so much time weaving. It ran out from beneath its guide loops and fled over the side.
Horrified, Atamoda stared at what remained of her nation, clinging to the life lines and masts. Every snapping rope and breaking log signaled the end of their world.
We’re not going to make it.
The sea felt too warm, like shallow lagoon water under a summer sun.
Another wave hammered them, accompanied by loud grinding and crackling. When Atamoda looked up, most of the flotilla had vanished. Only the two barges and one bow raft remained intact and lashed together. The men ran across the decks with salvaged rope, trying to bind what remained together. Aizarg stood in defiance only a few feet away, tightly gripping the staff resting in its hole. Hair matted to his face, he grimaced against the howling wind.
She heard the roar again, mingling with the thunder. Above, a black, whip-like shadow writhed from the sky. Glowing sickly blackish-green, it snaked from the clouds and emitted a pulsing, whirling sound. Sana followed her gaze and screamed, but no one else seemed to notice the sinister apparition bearing down on them. As if possessed with a malignant will, the twisting sky demon kissed the raging sea in an explosion of water and snaked toward them. Atamoda had no chants against this evil.
The wind strengthened with such force, Atamoda thought it would strip them away. Then a beam, bright as the sun, poured from above. Atamoda stared into the heavens filled with lightning and fire. As if they could not see, no one else save Sana and Atamoda paid attention to the brilliant light or the demon zigzagging toward them.
A ruddy light from her left caught Atamoda’s eye. Glowing tendrils emitted from Sana’s largest dagger. Then, in a peel of thunder, a serpent of golden fire with eyes of blue lightning, bolted from the clouds and plunged toward the whirling demon. Atamoda heard another roar, and then the red orbs vanished. The blackish funnel evaporated before reaching the rafts.
The heavenly apparitions disappeared, but the storm remained.
Another wave assaulted the barges. A log slammed into Atamoda’s arm and knocked her from the mast. Sana reached for her, but Atamoda didn’t take her hand, fearful the girl would lose her grip on her son.
“Hold on to Ba-tor!”
She clawed frantically at the deck and ropes as the torrent dragged her toward the edge. Hands reached for her, but none could catch Atamoda before she slipped over the side.
At the last moment, her li-ge snagged a ragged log. The thin leather necklace sliced into her neck, but prevented Atamoda from falling into the sea. Each trough plunged her underwater. Each crest yanked her from the sea by her neck. With one hand, she desperately reached for a protruding log. Her other hand clawed underneath the strap, fighting strangulation.
Fingers emerged from the edge and gathered up the leather strap, pulling Atamoda up slightly.
She tried to call out, but the necklace choked her.
Kus-ge’s grinning visage leered over the side. Atamoda extended her hand, but Kus-ge didn’t take it.
A dagger flashed.
Leather surrendered, and Atamoda plunged into the sea.
Smoke and fog clung heavily to the forest at dawn. Outside the stables Elda and Ercole tended to Amiran, who sported minor burns on both hands.
“You were foolish to linger so long,” I chastised Amiran.
“I had to get my pipe,” he said.
“He stumbled out of the gray tower with an armful of scrolls, trying to drag those heavy boxes,” Elda chastised her teacher as she wrapped his blistered fingers in torn linen. “If you had not been there to drag him the rest of the way, Lord Fu Xi, he would have died.”
“They are important, child! More important than you can imagine; more important than my life.”
“What is in there?” I asked, kneeling next to the iron-bound chest Amiran sat on.
He tapped the box. “This box holds hope for mankind’s freedom.” Amiran nodded to the other nearly identical chest, perhaps knee high and partially blackened. “And what’s in there will hopefully keep me alive long enough to set those events in motion. But we must dwell on this moment if hope is to survive.
“Listen carefully, friend. It wouldn’t surprise me if Leviathan is close enough to see the smoke rising from his ruined city. You must flee.”
“Flee? No, I will face Leviathan.”
“No!” Amiran grabbed my arm. “You are powerful, but you’ve made an enemy of eleven gods. Each can summon great fleets and armies in the hundreds of thousands.
“The world shall descend on Cin.”
T
he Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
Fu Xi twisted a stalk of grass between his teeth and considered his watery reflection, thinking of the ghastly image that once stared back at him. He rubbed his chin, noticing how his face had taken on an edge, how his eyes had hardened. His strength had returned, but even on a steady diet of deer and antelope, he hadn’t fully regained his weight. Fu Xi knew something inside had changed, though his transformation’s true nature had yet to reveal itself.
“I’m not quite so terrifying anymore, eh
Heise?”
The horse flicked his tail noncommittally.
Heise waited in the middle of what had been Fu Xi’s camp, bulging bags hanging off both flanks. The lean-to appeared as if ready to host another night’s sleep, the fire pit need only be rekindled.
But he could not stay. The thunderheads, ever present guardians of the southern and western horizons since his arrival, vanished a week ago. Clear blue skies stretched in all directions, beckoning Fu Xi to resume his quest for the man with white hair.
The curse is lifted.
He twisted the golden stalk in his hand, running his thumb over the full head of grain. Wild grains, like this wheat, flourished around the enormous lake.
He knelt down and picked up a twig. Fu Xi idly scratched a crude drawing in the dirt. He had spent several weeks exploring this land and discovered the lake rested in the center of an enormous oval basin. Protected from the Deluge on all sides by a ring of mountains, the basin stretched three hundred miles east and over a hundred miles north from his camp on the western border.
He considered the map, wondering if Amiran would be proud.
It looks like an eye.
“The Navel of the World, that’s what Mother called this land,
Heise. I like the name.”
A place of healing.
***
I didn’t know if I had saved my people, or condemned them to generations of war. “I must go home.”
“Exactly. There is a small ship waiting for you on the western coast, about a day’s ride across the coastal range. Sunnah will guide you. Thankfully, this ship wasn’t in the harbor last night, and the captain owes an old friend of mine a favor. He will take you across to Cin. You must prepare your people for Leviathan’s coming.”
“Come with me.”
“I cannot.”
“He will kill you.”
Amiran dismissed my question with a shrug. “Of course, but only when I’m no longer useful.”
“Surely Quexil will try to blame my rebellion on you.”
“He will, especially to save his own skin. Someone must pay for your little fit.”
“I still don’t understand.”
He chuckled. “When Prince Gadeirus slew his dragon thirty years ago, it was a young expedition scholar with a taste for tobacco who removed the beast’s bile sacs.” He nodded slightly in a mock bow. “You’re looking at the last living Royal Butcher. Leviathan wants a dragon as badly as he wants to conquer Cin, and your tales made him believe dragons might still exist. He can’t bring home fire bile without me.”
A cloud passed over Amiran’s face as he considered Elda and Ercole.
“He won’t kill me, but there are other ways to exact revenge.”
He reached into his soot stained toga and, with some pain, removed his pipe and tobacco. “Elda, be a dear and light my pipe.”
Amiran smiled. “Lord Fu Xi, will you care to take a smoke with me one more time before you go?”
“I would be honored.”
“I am sorry I have no tea,” Amiran passed the pipe.
“I am glad you don’t have any coffee,” I laughed.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
Fu Xi spent the first few weeks snaring small game. Once he summoned enough strength, he ventured east into the wetlands to hunt bigger game. Now he had enough smoked meat to last months, as well as a deerskin tunic, trousers, and wolf skin shoulder cape. He even fashioned crude repairs to the saddle and bags. He’d repaired most of his gear, but he couldn’t replace the Red Sword.
Fu Xi would have gladly lost everything except his horse and the Red Sword. Even the Red Armor felt unnecessary, as Fu Xi trusted his own speed and agility against all possible threats...
...except Leviathan.
He’s out there. Maybe Amiran is with him.
Fu Xi stood and considered the map once more.
A map keeps the wandering heart from losing its way home.
Fu Xi strode back to the horse, shrugging to shift a chaffing spot under the armor. Now that he’d lost weight, it sagged slightly.
He looked west, wondering if the Gray Eyed Queen, or any of the Eleven Princes, survived the Cataclysm.
“I would have liked to have met her, Heise. I find the thought of a female immortal intriguing.”
Nuwa’s warning echoed in his thoughts as he mounted
Heise.
“If you survive to see the end of the scourge, depart the Navel of the World to the west. As you pass into unknown lands, keep the Red Sword close and always wear your armor.”
“Why?” Fu Xi asked.
“In case your brother finds you first.”
He’d often thought about this long lost half-brother.
In case your brother finds your first...
***
In the dew covered grass I sat at my friend’s feet, giving the place of honor to a mortal like none I’d met before or since. I tried not to contemplate that we may never meet again, or the torments he would endure under Leviathan.
I will not tell you, Dear Reader, whether we smoked the sweet or bitter weed, only that Amiran and I stitched together our last moments with short words and long silences.
“Do what you must in Nushen,” he said between puffs. “If you can, journey west and find The Gray Eyed Queen, Leviathan’s twin sister. She leads a rebellion against the Eleven Princes on the far side of the world, in the land called Attica.
“There are many in the Kingdom secretly loyal to her. The resistance grows stronger every day, but should Cin fall into Leviathan’s hands, there will be no hope for victory.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Should Cin and Attica join together, hope lives. She is like you, Fu Xi. She remembers why the gods came to earth.”
Baffled, I pictured the world map Amiran showed me in the Library.
“Two oceans and two continents stand between Wu and Ereb, which is east, not west.”
Amiran grinned in that infuriating way of his. “I have weighed and measured the entire world, Fu Xi. If you chase the sunset long enough, you will find the dawn. Keep the North Star on your right shoulder until the natives eyes turn blue and round. Keep going until you encounter a warm sea. Follow the shore north, and keep going until you hear the sounds of war. I cannot tell you what you will encounter between Nushen and Attica, but barring an unknown ocean, you will find her.”
The brush rustled behind us. Elda and Ercole darted behind me as I rose and turned, sword extended. Sunnah emerged from the trees riding his chestnut mare and leading my horses.
“The Draco and two other ships sail from east. Riders gallop from north. He is coming,” Sunnah said.
Amiran stood and tapped out the pipe. “Go.”
I embraced my friend. “I left my land a teacher, and return a student.”
Amiran’s eyes misted over. “They were once like you, Fu Xi. We were once Poseidon’s beloved children, the Princes, our patient shepherds. Immortality drove them mad.”
He clasped both my hands. “You will see days without number and wonders unceasing. I beg you, do not let eternity poison your heart. Immortality is a curse when it serves its own selfish desires.
“Flesh isn’t meant to live forever.”
The
Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
Heise pranced as if ready to continue their adventure.
“Excited?” A spark kindled in Fu Xi’s heart, and a mischievous grin lit his face. He wheeled the horse toward the distant mountains and nudged
Heise with his heels. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let us chase the sunset until we find the dawn!”
The steed broke into a full gallop as he let loose a joyous cry. Together, they pursued the wind westward.