Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 (30 page)

“It was a plan to
siphon the Fog of Mount Heios for commercial use. It generated international
attention and investment, but the Fog ate through every kind of pipe the
company made. The lining wore away, the Fog leaked out, and this caused the
Ceihan Monster Outbreak of 1965. The entire country was thrown into chaos and
the company was bankrupted by fleeing investors and lawsuits. Now everyone
stays as far away from it as possible and other nations pretend it never
happened.”

“Did you recite all
that from memory?” Basilard asked.

“Yep! I may not look it,
but I got high marks in school. It’s one of the reasons I was chosen to be a
Dengel Distributor.”

“The other reason is
your naivety.”

“Daylra, please stop
picking on our guest.”

“Nolien, do you know
what the more common name for Dengel Distributor is? Dengel Dope, because
they’re all kids who are used as cats’ paws by adults. Possession of magical
materials, be they tools or tomes, is illegal in Ceiha. Yet they are highly
prized. Adults use children to handle the materials so they can rake in profits
without risk.”

“But…I…the pay was…”

“Enough to feed
yourself and some small luxury, and no more. Am I correct?”

Zettai nodded.

“Kids these days; they’re
easy prey for The Trickster.”

He pressed forward
toward their destination. Mt. Daici was out in the distance but still clearly
visible. It was a black pillar of stone standing out against the blue sky and
the brown land. Above its peaks, clouds gathered in perpetual attendance. Haburt
explained that this was metamorphic rock and thus another indication that it
could be Dengel’s Lair. A mage’s spirit could have a similar effect on rock as
volcanic pressure.

“A mere greater mage
couldn’t do it. This is
sage
-level power.” Haburt giggled. “I could
start the debate all over again!”

 “Nolien?” Eric asked.

“Whether Dengel is
considered a greater mage or a sage is a popular debate among scholars and has
been for ages. While complex and far-flung in details, the nutshell is that his
greatest accomplishment was codifying the works of other mages and that it was
done at the request of the Mother Dragon instead of his own initiative.”

I AM a sage!
Shadow Dengel bellowed.
Anyone who says otherwise is a jealous fool. That
“Mother Dragon” is a shame, a slut, and a cu –

Eric grabbed his staff
and slashed the phantom. It was only bothered momentarily.

– Who stole credit
for my work.

Next door to Mount
Daici was a pillar of clouds descending from the sky to the ground. Its
shifting masses crackled with energy. This was Mount Heios, a mountain covered
in a thick Fog. There was enough magical energy on that mountain to power the
entire Isaryu continent until Eric's grandchildren were dead, or to transform
everyone in Roalt into a monster and twist the surrounding countryside into a
world gone mad. The only thing that could have created such an immense cloud
was chaoscraft, and thus it was a sign that Dengel’s Final Lair was nearby.

“I’ve heard the other
distributors talk about this place and my parents too. They said it was a
‘drug’ and that the mountain is home to ‘addicts.’”

“Daylra?”

Basilard shrugged.
“It's possible. Some people like to go to places like Mount. Heios to
experience the rush of high-density mana. It goes straight to the soul. Even
for mages like us it can be a heady experience. For Ceihans, I imagine it would
be closer to ‘divine bliss.’”

“In the process, they
damn themselves,” Nolien continued. “Regular exposure to Fog leads to physical/spiritual
dependency and terminates in mana mutation and/or monsanity, the mentality of a
monster. Which one comes first depends on the individual, but monsanity is most
likely to be first.”

Eric pulled out the
Mana Juice from his first day.

“This is the same thing
in liquid form, but diluted and mixed so it doesn't cause the same buzz.”

The glowing green
liquid reflected in Zettai’s eyes.

“Can I...can I try
some?”

Eric handed it to her.
“Just one gulp.” She tried to pull it back, but he held it firm. “One. Gulp.”

“Got it.”

She swallowed and
glowed like a candle. The expression on her face was pure rapture, then it
transformed into sharp confidence. She compressed the light and energy into a
ball she could hold in her hands. Its shine was only surpassed by the look of
radiant happiness on her face. She ate it, returning the mana to her soul. Eric
grinned and then he winced.

Eric! Emergency!

If I look up, I'd
better not see any of your high-speed craft.

Of course not! They
can't fly in Ceiha! I’m working on that, but the stupid R&D –

Kasile, calm down
and tell me what's wrong.

Don't treat me like
a child!

It's that or 'Your
Majesty, how may I serve you?'

Fine, just listen.
There was a riot in Warrior Town and I need your opinion how to handle it.

What happened?

My investigators
said a gender powder keg went off because two of your guild mates were arguing
about who could be a better mentor and then they started wrestling while
arguing about who could be a better wrestler and some people got the wrong idea
and it snowballed.

Was anyone hurt?

Nothing permanent
but the social ramifications –

Basilard grabbed Eric's
arm before he walked into a ditch. He smiled shamefacedly and Basilard attached
a loop to his belt for the rest of the trip.

After two days, they
passed by a graveyard. There was no writing on these graves nor was there the
sort of art and upkeep that one expected at the final resting place for the
dead. There was only a fence and a dwelling similar to the death priest’s
temple in Yebo. Basilard knocked on the door and one such priest answered it.

Basilard signed and the
priest replied, “An ominous one. The people died unnatural deaths and I don’t
mean ‘violent’ death either. One day, they fell over, pale as ghosts, with no
kon
at all.”

Basilard signed.

“A necrocrafter would
be easy to find. This is something else.”

Basilard signed.

“Yes, a reaper could
hide and, given the chronically understaffed nature of the Abyss Death Corps,
rogues are seldom punished. After I die and ascend, I will be able to ease that
problem.”

Basilard signed.

“It started about seven
years ago. The brotherhood detected a new necrocraft contract in this country,
but Reno Grade denied such a thing occurred and we could not find the new user.
After that, people started dropping dead, disappearing, and showing symptoms.”

Basilard signed.

“We’ve been looking for
seven years, but the government has only been looking for two. Around here,
people drop dead when dragons fly by and forget to keep their spirits furled.
We had to prove that this was caused by a mage within the country before they
assisted us.”

Basilard signed.

“You’re welcome. I don’t
receive company often.”

After four days of
walking, they spotted sparse greenery and Haburt told them this was a sign that
they had almost reached their destination. At the end of the day, they spotted
a farmer's field. Eric was so surprised that he thought it was a mirage until
he touched an apple tree's trunk. On the south side of the tree, the ground was
lush with grass. On the north side of the tree, the ground was hard and dry. It
was a precise and unbroken line extending in a circle around Mount Daici.

“This is the border of
the Special Administration Zone of Deimos. This is our destination.”

Through the trees and
beyond a silo, Eric could see a small town. It was nestled into a rocky grove
at the foot of Mount Daici’s western face. A cliff rose high to the south and
east. To the north was a shallow grassy hill leading to the farmland and the
barren countryside beyond where he currently stood. Above the town, mana clouds
swirled together with those of rain near the mountain's peak.

A circle of farmland
enclosed the town and divided it from the rest of the country. It grew every
sort of vegetable and plant imaginable, and many from the same vine. Nolien was
about to point out the illogical nature of this, but then he thought better of
it, and instead he said, “Chaos.”

“You’re right,” Haburt
said. “Chaos can do the most amazing things, like create a garden in a
wasteland. Chaotic residue is the only possible explanation for Deimos'
fertility. It is the most important indicator that this is Dengel's final
lair.”

As they crossed the
fields, they were careful not to step on anything. Haburt explained that these
fields were the town's lifeblood: food, fuel, and taxes altogether. He went on
to explain how Deimos functioned politically, socially, culturally, and
economically, to which the mercenaries paid varying attention. Tiza only heard
words relating to “conflict,” Eric tried to pay attention, but was drawn into
another rant by Kasile, Nolien took mental notes for his family's
not-at-all-noble family business, and Basilard read his dirty book. Zettai
snatched apples into her pockets when no one was looking.

On the other side of
the field, they were greeted by a centaur with a purple top, a red bottom,
green hair, and brown hairs twisted into a question mark and exclamation point
above his head. At the sight of him, Tiza burst into uncontrollable laughter
while rudely pointing at him. He was twice as tall as she was and carried a
scythe. Nolien clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her hand down.

Haburt stepped forward.
“Please excuse my bodyguard. I hired her for her skills, not her tact.”

The centaur smiled.
“Far worse have I heard/laughter at the absurd. Thick skin have I/else I would
die.”

Tiza bit Nolien's
finger and laughed again. Thanks to the farmer's patience and tolerance, they
received directions to the governor's office.

The difference between
Deimos and the rest of Ceiha was striking. Instead of humans, Eric saw demons,
beast folk,
mana
breeds
. Dirt roads and carts replaced paved
roads and cars. Instead of oil and smog, he smelled grass, sandalwood, and
lemon. Trees were growing beside the houses! The former were plentiful, but the
latter were sparse; Eric estimated a couple hundred or so people lived here.

Haburt stopped at a
large tree near the market place that bore a sign declaring “Governor’s
Residence.” A string dangled next to the sign. He pulled it and a bell rang in
the leaf canopy. A human-sized monkey dropped to the ground on all fours, rose
to his hind legs, and bowed gracefully. A bone horn grew out of his forehead
and he wore a suit that had gone out of style forty years ago.

“Hello again, Mr. Fli
–” He straightened and blinked. “You're not Mr. Flimonos.”

Haburt signed.

“He's the rent
collector from the capital...If you're not...” He saw Basilard standing behind
Haburt and backed against the tree, blood draining from his face. “The Crimson
Killer...you really do exist…P-please don’t eat me!”

“Of all the places he
had to be...” Basilard muttered darkly. Then he signed his own statements.

“But you look just like
the stories say and you carry that sword. It feels evil…”

Basilard signed for a
solid minute, and for that minute, no one wanted to be within sword reach of
him. His companions even activated their barriers and reached for their own
weapons. Such was the killing intent radiating off him at the discussion of
this “Crimson Killer.” At the end, the governor accepted that he was not this
criminal, but Eric figured it was because he was scared out of his mind.
Basilard’s spirit calmed and the governor threw back a shot glass before
composing himself.

“I've never seen him
for myself and the stories don’t agree. One says that he’s a faceless ogre with
blood-red skin that rips people apart. Another says that he’s a ghost that
glows blood red and steals people's youth. A third says he’s a human man with
blood-red hair and eyes that can kill with a look. All of them state that he
carries a sword like your own.”

Basilard signed again.

“I can explain the
mysteries about him at length later. For now, I want to know what you are doing
here if you're not from the government.”

Haburt handed a slip of
paper to the governor written in scribbles that Eric assumed was Ceihan. He
further assumed it was a business card the professor produced for this trip.

The governor accepted
it. “Caffour Sappin, Governor of Deimos. How can I help you?”

Haburt signed.

Caffour paused before
responding. “You must have mixed up the signs. If you said anything about
investigating the castle on top of this mountain, then go home. Others from the
outside have tried what you propose and the only ones that returned were dead.”

Haburt signed.

Caffour raised an
eyebrow. “Oh? What asset could you possibly have that would make a difference?”

Haburt beckoned Eric
forward and signed again.

“Excuse me, but
whose
choice?”

“You mean you
don't
know about Tasio?” Eric asked.

Caffour blinked.
“Ta-zi-oe?”

Grinning like a
trickster herself, Tiza chimed, “Tasio!”

A cloud of dust
exploded in their midst. When it settled, a golden-brown-haired, pointy-eared,
levitating man in medieval garb appeared in its place.

“Somebody call me?”

Without waiting for a
response, he reached into Eric's pants and pulled his underwear over his head.
Then he grabbed Tiza's pant legs, merged them into a hobble skirt, and pushed
her over. While she struggled to stand, he grabbed Caffour's face.