Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (42 page)

BOOK: Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods)
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              “I promise.
” F’anger the Beast suddenly clattered to the floor beside me and a new passage slowly began to open up to my left, leading up a pleasant looking flight of stairs. I sheathed my sword, and was just about to set up the passageway when I stopped myself. I turned to face Minget with newfound admiration.

 

              “My name is Jacob Ofpacis. I want to be a hero someday.”

 

Minget’s empty eyes glimmered at these few words. He let out with a small involuntary gasp. “That’s a wonderful name!” he remarked with such sincerity I could help but feel my eyes fog up.

 

              “It’s a common name,” I replied modestly.

 

              “Yet aren’t they all?” He paused to consider his next few words. “You humans name everything there is in the world. Yet it’s not the power of the name that makes up the person, but the power of the person that makes up the name.”

 

I opened my mouth and smiled, because I had never really thought of it that way before.

 

“Farewell Jacob Ofpacis,” Minget said as I began to ascend the staircase. “May your name be known by all but the Grimlars and may your name be filled with love.”

 

              I climbed and climbed
the narrow flight of stairs, ducking occasionally so as not to hit the lowly placed ceiling
.
Eventually, the staircase simply stopped before opening up into a long plain room.

 

              “Who are you?”
a
croaky voice
asked
from the end of the shallow cave like corridor.

 

I whipped around and saw a horrible figure. It w
ould
have been similar to the
make of Minget
,
however
folds of metal sank over one another, making it almost look like
the statue
was melting in a furnace. Every time his stumpy beak moved, the
metal
around it would droop even further,
making it look like like it might simply fall to the ground with a loud splat
. The creature had a glazed look in his eyes that may have once
shown power but now looked older than anything or anyone else I had ever seen before.

 

“Who are you?”
h
e asked once more.

 

              “My name is Jacob.”

 

              “Eh?” He said, shaking a little on the spot. “
What's
that? Your naked? Thats not exactly the best thing to be here. I take it you want some clothes?”

 

              “No, my
name. Is Jacob.

 

              “Well its mighty fine to meet you naked, but I would rather much rather meet you clothed, so If you'd kindly go downstairs I'm sure my brother might just be generous enough to give you some armor.

 

              “M
Y
... NAME
...
IS
... JACOB.”

 

The statue suddenly
looked offended.

 

              “Well there's no need to shout Cailub.”

 

I
pressed my hand into forehead.

Close enough
,”
I thought to myself
wearily.
“What do you guard here?”

 

              “What do you mean I can't hear?” The
statue replied angrily.

 

I repeated my question, this time screaming
.

 

              “You know what? I don't dern remember what I'm garden 'ere.  I hope it
’s
petunias. They're my favorite! Actually no... It might be some big ol'
pendant
. But what does I know about gardening big expensive
pendants
?”

 

It was clear that my prize was just past this eagle. I was so close.

 

              “I have a message for you!”
I shouted,
which reverberated off of the cavern walls. “From your brother!” I added
,
motioning down the passage. The sloppy mass of material stopped moving altogether and froze.

 

              “I haven't heard from any of my brothers in nearly a decade... I have to wonder what
’s
happened to them.
Cailub
, you wouldn't happen to know which one of my brothers sent the message do you?” The molten metal covering his eyes rose,
revealing a pair
lonely eyes so shockingly bright and blue
, it was as if they were made out of sapphires.

 

              “It

s
from
your brother Minget!” I bellowed.

 

The eyes gleamed brighter still, and a slow grin crept across the sagging beak.
“Well go on then! Best not wait until I’ve melted.
What's
the message?”
h
e whispered, like a child about to unwrap a present.

 

              “He... Wants to let you know that... he loves you.” I flinched when I uttered the word.

 

              “Love.”

 

             
I found it to be
such a strange and comfortable word in such a horrifying place. In a place where
only these weird bird statues lived
,
there was still room for this...
Love
.
“He loves you more than
life,
” I concluded
softly
but I doubt the statue was listening at this particular moment. For he was smiling. No, more than that. Grinning. A grin as wide as the sky filled with
freedom
and joy. It was impossible not to feel overjoyed looking at a life that had suffered so much, but was now happier than anyone I had ever seen. All of this
because of one stupid word
. It was a while before the statue replied.

 

              “That’s good
,

h
e said
,
closing his eyes “That’s good.” I heard the sound of stone crumbling, and the rock face
below
the old bird moved and shifted until
the a new passageway had been opened.
“You're a good sort you know Cailub. I have forgotten everything there is to forget in my life
.
M
y name, my origins, everything's gone. Except for love. I expect you'll be going soon. If you're like me, and you forget all that’s happened in this
place
, don't forget about love. You may need it someday.”
All grew silent as the statue in front of me slowly fell asleep, grunting and snorting every so often as he quietly snored away his last few days.

 

              Here I was, at the doorstep of my quest. The thing that Professor Wenchenberg had wanted was just a few more footsteps away. It all seemed so worthless now compared to everything I had just done.

 

              “
You’re a fool
, for craving that which is not there.” The eyes of Umber blossomed into view like a grotesque flower emerging from the depths of a swamp. “Power is here
and power is real. Mortal you even said it yourself, the power will give you freedom! Is that not what you wanted from the very beginning?”

 

I said nothing and
simply saved
my breath for the
walk into the final chamber
. Umber gave an
irritable
sno
rt at my lack of a response.

J
ust when I was
beginning to
thin
k that
my host was somewhat formidable for his persistence
, I find he’s been stopped in his tracks by mere emotion.” I scowled at him and flung him away, yet he reformed almost instantly.

 

              “It’s like catching a butterfly w
ith your bare hands. You chase it and chase it but it

s only when you have it in your
possession do you realize that
it

s worthless.

 

I did everything I could to avoid listening to what Umber was saying, yet his words were relaxing
. Doubt began to fill my mind.

 

“A flower is only ornamental,” The spirit continued. “Pretty, but otherwise impractical.
You can't feed armies with a flower, nor can you stem the tide of evil with
it
. It simply looks and smells enjoyable
,
a
nd even that smell won't last more than a week or so.
That’s what this love is Jacob.”

 

              “I just cemented the bond between two brothers together with nothing more than a message.”

 

              “Yes, but despite your best efforts, the oldest brother will soon die.”

 

              “SHUT UP!” I roared, trying everything I could in my power to damage Umber. Every jab I threw, every slap that passed through his eyes did no more damage than a light breeze, but still I fought.

 

“You can do anything you want to protest but that doesn’t change the inevitable Jacob. Logic trumps.”

 

I began to cry and thrash around like a child. I fell to my knees and tore at my face, writhing in distress as my body approached the floor. I took three ragged breaths, and carefully began to speak. “You say... I’m determined.” Tears fell from my face and onto my clenched fists as I said these words. “You say I’m persistent, yet you’re too stupid to know where these things come from.”

 

“You want to escape the concentration camp,” Umber stated, looking bored.

 

“Wrong,” I whispered sharply. I laughed as more tears blinded my vision. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. You, spirit are wrong!” I declared, jabbing a finger in his left eye. “I want to save my friends, even if means they’ll live on without me. I didn’t have a word for this until now, but I learned what it is. It’s called love.”

 

Umber flinched and I laughed even louder.

 

“Does the word scare you Umber? Does it scare you to think that I would be willing to die for my friends? Answer me dammit!”

 

Umber said nothing for quite a while. I could tell he was still angry, but he did seem to calm down a bit. “I will not have you dying for those fools you consider to be your friends,” The spirit proclaimed surely.

 

“But what about you Umber?” I asked darkly. “What did you die for?”

 

Umber did not respond.

 

 

***

 

The final room was a large dome with elegant stone arches dancing up to the top of the capacity like an elaborate skeleton. The paintings of open sky and landscapes that filled the empty spaces in between each of these were so lifelike that for one disorienting moment it felt as though I had stepped outside. Pacing carefully into the area, I quickly noticed that aside from the murals, there was nothing at all inside of this domain: No shelves, no containers. Not even a vase or fireplace beside me. It seemed in complete honesty as though it was just a quiet little room dedicated to the life of a lone artist long since gone.

 

Figuring there might be some significance to the paintings surrounding me, I traveled to each oil illustration in turn and carefully inspected the fantastic attention to detail with nothing shy of awe. A blackened creature resembling a horned wolf with four burly arms stood on one side of the room, rising nearly twenty times the size the men nearby. He stood alone, fighting torrents of warlocks and mages with the five objects he had in his possession. A golden plate, a brown leather bag, A stunning topaz gem, along with a thick obsidian like longsword. The final item was a golden pendant wrapped around his neck with mottled blood coloured gems embedded into it

 


This is Dormtok, the god who betrayed the rest out of jealousy,” I said, pressing a single finger against the eye of the figure. “Why in the world would the Grimlars have him painted here?” I frowned in deep concentration and suddenly paled.

BOOK: Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods)
5.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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