Arc Finale: The One Who Talks

“Good call, Mr. Ace”, said the prisoner.

The bars melted quickly into the soil. The tree went back to its original shape as he stepped out, but started to whither and die. In a matter of seconds it was lying lifeless beside him. “It couldn’t endure anymore. That’s what may happen to things if they are pushed too hard beyond their capabilities, I wonder...”

“You motherfucker! Motherfucker AND fatherfucker! It was a nice tree!”, cried the young man, still wrapped. He was at the brink of tears.

“Watch your mouth, boy. Or I’ll have it out”, the former prisoner said, lashing out an icy cold anger under his voice.

The young man shut himself and muttered silently on the floor.

“I felt something was off the moment we left those ruins”, said Dern, jumping off the branches and joining the others. “And when we came here I noticed those trees back there didn’t grow naturally into that, not a bit. So I lagged behind, out of precaution.”

Hal nodded. “I thought so. Or almost.”

“Ok, great. Now what? Who are you, and what the hell are you doing?”, said Rafaën, turning to the mysterious man.

Again he spread his malignant smile. “I? I’m but a servant of nature... cunnar.”

They saw a savage fire pour out of Rafaën’s eyes, and, quicker than they could follow, she had already jumped over the man like a feral beast. Her hands had transmuted into inhuman claws, her mouth was full of fangs and her glare was savage for bloodshed.

As much as they had never seen their friend like that, the man had barely to whisper a word like a slapping hand to send her clashing against the trees.

Hal felt the disruption in the fabric of things and understood immediately. “You’re a Magi!”

“What a wonderful perception, Mr. Selvais. Outstanding. But, yes, matter obeys my command as much as I please.”

Dern was tending for Rafaën, who lied unconscious. There was a crescent storm in the air around him, as if slowly building up to a fateful release.

Hal noticed his mood and tried to calm him down. “Easy, Dern. Not now. Not with this... with this man, whoever he is. I mean it.”

Dern saw that Hal was shaking as he said that. He knew his friend had the deepest insights on the silk of Magi, deeper than any of theirs, albeit chaotic. He thought better to heed his advice.

“Who are you?”

“I am shadow, I have no name. But I might have one that could be of use, if you like... Call me Vrotan, Mr. Ace. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

Dern’s face turned deadly pale. Vrotan-o-Ni’Naj, Dark Whisperer, Torturer of Words, Voice of Despair. He read about him in a well-hidden footnote on an ancient scripture from centuries ago. He remembered clearly, since the paper had burned in a dark fire as soon as he had read it.

He lowered his face to check on Rafaën. “What did you call her?”

“A very amusing word, long forbidden by the Red Tribes of hers... though I think you’d rather listen to its meaning from her lips.”

Hal was caught up in between anger and powerlessness. He did not know what he was, but knew that there was a force so overwhelmingly wrong within that man that he could only pray.

And that was what he did.

Dern realized Hal’s intentions when he stood to one knee, as if he were tired. He then acted quickly, since there was not much time.

“If you really are Vrotan”, Dern began, feeling the name’s bitter taste in his tongue, “then why would you need these mundane objects? I’d presume they were below you.”

Vrotan was amused. “Oh, Mr. Ace, do you really think so? I think you don’t. These mundane objects, as you so define, are something else. See, I have three in my power now, so graciously donated by this poor boy here. Oh, how greedy he was! When I got ‘lost’ in his property, was 'held' prisoner, when I spoke to his mind about the delights of such a wonderful device... I did not need to say no more. And here we are.”

“But we saw you in the secret room. Were you merely luring us?”

“Certainly so. No further layers there. Simple, but efficient. And, again, here we are.”

Dern felt the invisible fingers of his words starting to reach him. They could not wait any longer.

Vrotan was moving towards him. His glasses gleamed with an odd reflex. “Now, there’s only yours left to be acquired. I appreciate your cooperation.”

Dern felt a strange urge to put his hand inside his lute, controlling his nerves, his muscles, his bones. He fought back in revolt, to no avail. Slowly, his fingers touched the smooth surface of the object, grabbing it delicately, retrieving it from the lute’s opening, dribbling the strings and laying it right towards the devious man.

“HAL, NOW!”

A sudden gasp was followed by a lightning bolt that stroke the clearing, as the woods vanished from their sight and they found themselves somewhere else. The last thing Dern saw from Vrotan-o-Ni’Naj was his eyes blacken with rage, a mirror of indescribable negativity and utter ungodliness, so wicked it was burned in his mind never to be erased.

On that single instant he knew that that creature somehow went to the End of Things and returned scarred, broken, unmade. What he saw could not be understood, nor grasped, but felt and known, and weighted, much like an ant would weight the size of the Earth on its back. That man was lost in the worst way a man or woman could ever be lost. Forever.

Dern faintly remembered heinous words being spat violently against them as they made their way out, and then nothing more.

“Hal, are you there?”, Dern asked. Everything was pitch black.

He received silence in return. His hands touched something soft, and a groggy someone spoke. “Don’t go there.”

Dern was glad to hear Rafaën’s voice. He then started stumbling around to check on anyone else. “Why is everything so dark?”, he mumbled.

“Dern... it’s so bright I can’t even see straight without squinting”, said Rafaën. There was concern in her tone. “There’s blood in your face, let me see it...”

As soon as she touched his head she screamed and went back, falling over something that was lying behind, and started crying convulsively.

“Dern, oh Dern...”

He touched his face and felt the blood flowing like a river. As he went for his eyes he felt only emptiness and crucible pain.

But the scream that came afterwards was from someone else.

“My leg, where’s my fucking leg?”

It was Hal, holding his left hip, trying to contain the blood loss from the missing limb. His beard was damp with blood and sweat, his eyes flooded with tears. Rafaën was in the blink of desperation, barely standing up to witness the gravity of their outcome.

Looking down, she saw that she had stumbled into someone familiar.

“Where am I?”, said the sassy young man. He was still wrapped in vines.

“Get up, boy”, said Rafaën, finally holding tight the reins of her resolve and embracing the sharp tranquility of the healers. “We have work to do.”




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Find on Twitter:

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*Starring*

Hal Selvais: @halisianismo

Dern Ace: @VanDerance

Mu-Rafaën of Toir: @rafamrtr

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*Guest Starring*

@JoaoRodrigoJR as "Sassy Boy"

AND

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*Featuring Special Guest Star*

@assumptes

as Vrotan-o-Ni'Naj

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Stay tuned for the next chapters of The Bluebird Tales in the upcoming arc:

DUST OF THE GODS

Arc Premiere on June 14th 2014

"It's the dust of the gods, my friends...they still hold their last breath."

a Capslocker Productions  

2014

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Chapter 3: Hello

The air was damp under the dome of trees.

For a moment, the two Magis stayed still. The insane voice left as suddenly as it came, leaving only a disturbing silence to be witnessed.

The man behind bars spoke. “You should move away.”

Hal and Rafaën could only barely dodge from a burst of vines that hammered down from nowhere. Then a second, a third, a fourth attack sprung into them, leaving little space to anything other than defensive maneuvers.

Hal’s air shields started to be disrupted by the flurry of blows. “Raffa, what are you doing?”, he said. “These are plants.”

Rafaën then noticed what he meant and cursed her own lack of attention. “Of course” she thought. “Plants!”

Moving away from the successive attacks as best as she could, she managed to cast a quick chanting and the fiery tiger grew in size, to a point where he shielded the two of them almost completely by burning away the green whips.

She roared with him, in a cheerful laugh. “Do you really think you can fight fire like this?”

Seconds went by before a disdainful reply came from the dark beyond the oaks. ”Do you think, my dear, that fire can truly fight anything? Think again, love. Think again.”

The vines then stroke even fiercer than before, this time slippery with a thick sap that covered their tentacle-like grip, protecting them against the flames. Hal and Rafaën pulled back behind the tiger, which struggled more and more under the slap of the trees.

“We can’t hold this much longer”, said Hal. He had slashed more vines than he could count but yet they seemed to be thousands.

The assault, however, was much quicker than they expected. In one single sweep the enemy had left them with their backs against the wall of trunks. Rafaën could not concentrate to keep the Firelines awake and the tiger disappeared, leaving behind only a thin smoke trail.

The final blow seemed to be near, when Hal asked, “What do you want, for god’s sake!”

The vines stopped in the air, suspended. “Silly boy... pretty, but dull. Don’t you see I have what I wanted?”

And from behind the upmost branches of the dome, a figure floated. He was young and copper-skinned, shorthaired, with leaves being waved into the hair threads and descending to be tied in a braid behind his back. His clothes were flamboyant and minimal, his smile, dainty but maniacal, and his eyes, full of greed.

Rafaën saw that he was not floating exactly, but hovering over them attached gracefully to the vines.

“I’m not sorry for putting up a show... “, he said, giggling. “Because that’s what I do best”. The plants seemed to retrocede and the woods were starting to diminish to their normal size. 

“I do have what I want now, but I think I like you enough to let you go somewhere else.”

Hal had a glimpse of understanding and went for his pocket. “When... how... you stole our devices!?”

Rafaën checked her pouch, incredulous. “How dare you, creep? Give them back!”

She conjured a huge flame whip out of her own hair and was ready to strike, but someone shouted and they saw that the caged man was being dangerously trapped. The trunk was getting smaller and smaller, soon to crush him well and forever.

She stood still. “Fine! Do what you fuckin’ want. Bastard.”

“Uuuh, someone has a dirty mouth, hasn’t she?”. The young man rejoiced with the situation. “When in my woods, abide to my rules, that’s what I say. Now, would you please leave? Unless you want to party again... and harder”, he said.

“What about him?”, asked Hal.

“He will be my guarantee... until you leave.”

They stood there for a brief moment staring coldly at each other, when suddenly Hal started laughing so hard he was soon out of breath.

Rafaën pierced him with furious green eyes. “Are you finally out of your mind!?”

Hal made a great effort to contain himself. “Well, my vegetable friend... Maybe it is you who should leave, after all.”

Then the young man looked behind him to see a shadow standing over a branch.

A hand played one bucolic tone in a string, and then two, tree. A song started to spread from the dark, flooding the woods with the unmistakable sound of music.

Slowly at first, and then progressively faster, the vines that were once enemies turned against their master, wrapping him tight and holding him prisoner of his own instruments.

“Wait... what!? You can’t do that! How is this even possible!?”, said the young man, trying to escape with no success. “Nature bows to me! TO ME ONLY!”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken”, said Dern, stepping out of the dark. “You were the one who bowed, boy”. Dern looked somberly at the man behind the bars.

The prisoner was smiling, and spoke with a voice so twisted, contrived and immoral that hopelessness suddenly became an understatement.

“Hello.”

Chapter 2: Scream in the Dark

The woods seemed to go deeper than any of them had suspected. Here and there Dern would stop to gaze around to see if he could feel a change in the wind, the whisper of the snakes, a cry in the earth. Nothing. It was as if the land itself was still, out of fear... or expectation.

At one point, Hal looked up and saw something shine high in the night. And then, it was gone.

“Hey, I think I saw something. Let’s go there.”

“Are you sure? I mean, are you, really?”, asked Rafaën. Hal’s head was something out of this world completely, and many times had they searched for something that was not even there. Yet, many other times there was something... or things. Dangerous ones, mostly.

“Last time you said that we were caught in a cobweb ten feet tall.”

“I’m sure! And if I’m not, what difference does it make? We’re lost, anyway”, said Hal. He had that quirky smile that followed his doing something half-mad, half-wise. And he went for a trail.

Dern just shrugged. And, for the first time since they left the ruins, he giggled. “He actually has a point. Let’s do it”, said Dern, following the other.

Rafaën rolled her eyes. “I just hate it when you two team up against me. If we find spiders I won’t save your sorry asses again.”

The trail went downslope and turned behind trees much thicker and taller than any other they had seen so far. Dern thought them to be ancient, but in a closer look he saw that they were actually much younger. “This is odd”, he mumbled. But the others had already entered the deep layers of the forest.

Hal could not see further ahead, but lighting up a fire would be too easy for any foes to notice them. He could only hear his friends coming close behind, and that was all. He stopped for a moment and checked again where that light was supposed to come from.

Rafaën bumped into him. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“You’re welcome”, Hal said, unaware of the sarcasm. He seemed to be distracted by something that Rafaën could not guess. She shivered for the slightest moment, and then she realized Dern was not with them.

“Hal. Dern is gone”, she said, quietly but warily. Hal woke up from his distraction.

“What!? We can’t use our telepathic thingies here, can we? Damn, Dern”, Hal said. He felt the round shaped device in his pocket and felt restless. They could not use the mechanism without falling unconscious in the floor.

“Well, he surely can take care of himself. Better than any of us both. Let’s go, he will find us there. I trust he will.”

Rafaën noticed concern in his eyes, but also a confidence that just overflowed past any worry. He really trusted Dern. “Ok, then. It’s your call.”

Soon after, they crossed a maze of the hugest bushes they had ever seen and saw themselves in a clearing. Right next to it the land would rise into a small hill, partially hidden beneath trees that seemed to be there since the dawn of times. There was an entrance to a cave, barred by iron bars.

“I knew it!”, said Hal. “He is there! I can feel it.”

“Not so fast, buddy. Look around”, warned Rafaën.

Hal then looked up and saw that the trees had grown into the shape of a roof over them in a matter of seconds. “This is no good, no good.”

He then clapped his hands and spread his palm aside, bringing the dirt under his feet together to form a perfectly straight stonesword, long and sharp, as the hands crossed the air. With a flicker of his arm, floating shields made of wind started moving loosely all around him, accompanying his movement and even the mist of his breath.

For that was the power conferred to him by the Fourth Dimension, and he wielded Imagination like a weapon to protect him from harm by turning available matter into other shapes of matter. The channeling through the Random God was both a bless and a curse, for Imagination would flow from his conscience unimpeded and raw. It was his greatest strength, and yet it was also his gravest weakness. Many times before he was hurt by the power he sought to control.

Beside him, Rafaën made shapes in the air like a skilled design, and suddenly there was a burning glow and a roar, and a tiger appeared out of nothing. He was made of Firelines, the nearly forgotten art of the Red Tribes. Unlike Hal, who used a mind-matter connection to canalize his efforts, Rafaën poured Imagination into the matter and severed the nexus, mastering both the destination as much as the departure, by dividing them from each other.

Imagination, the oldest of powers, the very blood of the conscience, the life within life...Magi, was it called. The gravity that held everything together.

Rafaën drew on the air once more and red sparks flew everywhere, lightening up the clearing and revealing a person behind the iron bars of the cave.

“I’m...I’m here, everyone. It is me who you’ve seen in the Otherworld.”

Unlike the trees, the voice was young, but sounded much older. Under the lights summoned by Rafaën, they could see his glasses glimmer and his eyes flicker with curiosity and amity. He was about the same height of Hal and Dern, but was thin like Dern and as much tranquil as Hal. He had a bow, his traveling clothes were deep amber and there was an air of tenacity about his glare that hinted of both contemplation and balance.

“Don’t come too close. He has set traps”, he said.

And then, a wicked laugh echoed in the woods, so hysterical it sometimes came out like a scream of pure delight.

“I’ve foreseen your coming in the leaves of my hair, all of you... oh, silly little things! Come to papa, it’s PARTY TIME!”