Second Attempt

 

On the first night of the week long darkness, Maklevien dipped a piece of cloth into the bucket of paint he had prepared and blackened the metal skin of his cheek, right under the left eye.

The paint covered more than the metal though, since its shape was intricate; as if scars of a two clawed beast connected through tiny streams of blood.

Other Symorratics in the hall watched the process carefully. “We want our metals like the night,” Maklevien declared. “It’s time to embrace who we really are.” Sailyn, standing beside him, got the stained cloth off his hand and did the same thing to her Sanesenum, which covered half her neck and collarbone.

“We are going to infiltrate the Cavebris palace.” Maklevien delivered the punchline.

The crowd in the underground hall rumbled in anxiety, with questions boiled down to “Why?”

“This is suicide mission,” said a young member of the party, Sanesenum on his back hidden by the loose shirt. He was the one who pushed a guard into the wall of entrance corridor. The silhouette was still there, a reminding symbol for anyone passing by. “Zefor’s palace is packed with soldiers and he is ready to fight no matter when or what.”

“If Zefor catches even one of us, he will collapse all these roofs on Symorratics.” It was the middle aged man speaking from the crowd, Rass, metal covering his right hand fingers. “You better have a plan Maklevien, because I will kill you before I witness Zefor’s wrath.” He finished with squeezing a fist in the air.

The sword was carelessly leaning the room, under the kerosene. The giant sword. Almost as tall as Mak himself. He walked towards it, appreciating the eerie beauty it sustained throughout the years. Many years actually, which had been arduous on the sword, exhibited through wounds and defects of the steel and its edges. Mak picked the sword holding its pommel, gently as if he could hurt its wounds, turning to the crowd. “We are Symmoratics,” he said. “A term chosen not by us, but I don’t think we could have come up with a more accurate one. They can’t know where we are, what we are thinking, what’s our next move. And that is a perfect build for fear.” He shot the sword aimed at Rass, like a spear. It opened his face, somehow not touching anyone around him. Rass was on the ground, dead.

The crowd was shocked no more than few seconds; the mourning friend shouted, “What have you done? Killing someone of your own?”

Zed, another member of the hall, pushed his way through to pull the sword out of the skull. “It’s our tradition. If you didn’t see it coming, you deserved it.” He carried the giant sword and offered it to Maklevien with a salute. “My father told me stories of the deep darkness. He died trying to prove everyone that we are not so different from the rest, but he was wrong, and it cost him his life. Everyone, is different. But the underground folk should have a common example on how to live.”

Zed grabbed the cloth off the ground and dipped it into the bucket. The Sansenum on his leg was soon painted black.

“I need to scout the palace one last time,” Mak said. “There is an arrangement at the end, a ship. Zefor will never find us.”

And with that, he snatched a kerosene off the wall and walked up the stairs. Sailyn followed. The riot of people mixed with rain-noise hit him as he passed the door into the main corridor. Cavebrians were mad since Zefor had freed the god killer, rightly so. They avoided Symorratics for their unpredictable nature, while Mak could only wonder what changes an ancient demon was capable of. Not that he cared, he would soon be far away, far enough to not hear the noises nor the stories.

It was already darker than Maklevien had expected. It hadn’t forced people off the roads however, not yet. Mak and Sailyn had their leather cloaks on to bear the torrent. The thunder seemed to shake the land, and the rain in an attempt to kill the flames Cavebrians had ignited on the squares, a few buildings, and torches. The palace was heart of the city in multiple senses; first, it was the only structure that didn’t seem on the blink of falling apart. Another, perhaps more visible to a paranoid eye, was that hundreds of surrounding lakes and bridges seemed to point at the place, like a water maze that sourced from the throne.

The viewpoint Mak used for scouting was on top of a building at the heart of the city -or in the other sense, in front of the heart of the city- where they reached to by first entering an alley blocked by a garden. They had to turn off the kerosene. Smell of damp wood, green leafs, and smoke became more oppressive once there was less to see. Some windows, broken walls, and pipes helped them climb a floor, despite it being harder than usual for the lack of light, and slippery grip spots. From the first roof a private stair carried them to the top of next building, one slightly newer in comparison. And from there to the top roof of the final structure where a single road split them and the palace territory. The viewpoint. The top was shaped like a three stepped pyramid. They crawled to the second and watched the people quarreling with the guards, bonfires barely surviving the rain, and… no sign of the soldiers, where were they?

At this height everything below felt mundane, for the clear image of what was happening in the sky. The start was 2 hours from the center, first a dark split in the ring which like a plague kept eating on both ends. Now the black sky had gapped more than half of the ring in the middle. The ends of it retreating to east and west. Tonight the darkness would cover all the ring, all the world; that’s what stories claimed for lack of a better base, and it would last one whole week.

“It’s beautiful,” Sailyn said. “It’s taking the sky. So powerful, so fast. What do you think is causing it?”

“My only concern is getting out of this damn city. I wonder how many soldiers are waiting for us inside. Surprise.”

“If we are going to do something, we shouldn’t think about it. We should just do it. That’s what you say.”

“Right.” Mak agreed.

People could never hold the emperor accountable, nor they could change what he had done. The god killer was out there. They continued their useless efforts nonetheless.

“Do you…,” Sailyn paused, “don’t you think you were a little harsh on Rass?”

“Your point?”

“I am in a dilemma.”

“I am not. Rass didn’t see it coming, you didn’t see it coming. This is who we are. Symorratics forget our legacy and what they stand for. The metal didn’t choose our head, for a good reason.”

“You always talk of we but, have you ever thought of you? What if only you are… the way you claim we are?”

Maklevien looked her in the eyes. She wasn’t looking. “You are proof of my point. You have forgotten about the death-dealer who saved enough lives to fight the souls of all those he had killed, or the red cloak Elite who defied death twice just to prove whatever others thought of him was false. Both of them were of our people, and we are forgetting how to live our ways.”

“I am in a dilemma of leaving this all or sticking by.”

Maklevien forgot what he was talking about. “What?”

“I have been thinking about it for quite a while now. The scheming, the underground community, living on edge; darkness, how could I survive without you? Plus, it was even fun at times. But I don’t think it’s who I am Mak. It’s harming me more than anything else, and… despite how petty it sounds, for once I want to live the life I always wanted to live. And this, this was not it.” She looked at the east end of the ring. Pale blue glimmering, but fading away.

“You are a crucial part of this mission, we planned it together remember?”

“I do, and I should have brought it up sooner..”

The sudden silence of protestors stopped their conversation. Everyone was frozen mid action, -holding a sign, a torch; or physically tangled with a guard- While staring at the semicircular gate of the palace. Through the gate appeared a man so taller than the others that the difference became striking from this distance. Two royal braziers on each side illuminated his dark fluffy hair parted in the middle, with the shoulder cape no one wore but Zefor. It was him, no doubt. The emperor was deliberate, he spaced out each of actions for the sake of building tension.

Zefor scanned everyone occupying his territory.

“Some focus on so far ahead that they miss what’s in front of them.” Zefor growled. “You judge my decisions based on your mundane ideals, while I am the one who bears this responsibility, along with the consequences, me alone! In ways you better not be aware of.” He waved a hand. “You will not be harmed, that is a promise.” A pause, giving space for silence. The rain had already smoothed his hair to the scalp. “The war ended today, and that means a lot to me; no more deaths on my borders. I will thank the god killer for that, not the gods. Now go and prepare for the eclipse, before I sour the taste of relief with your blood.”

And like that, he left the scene.

“The war has ended with Valashi?” Said Sailyn. “That doesn’t make any sense. His situation should have made things worse.”

Maklevien watched people leave. The sky was darkening. He had no answers. “We better leave.”

They went down the same way they had climbed up. Barely anything was visible in the alley. Rain was harsh. Mak groped in darkness for the kerosene he had left next to a standing piece of rock on the side. He remembered the spot, how could it be gone?

Sailyn grabbed his hand. Muted. Something was up to them, or someone. She gestured towards the garden, and without uttering a word, they were on their way to climb the wall. He handed her up the roof of the side building, and using a pipe they were able to reach a branch, which led to the other side of the wall. Sensing limbs and bumps of the tree, they managed to get in the garden. Full dark, as if he had gotten blind. Backs to the tree trunk.

“Someone was ambushing for us at the head of the alley.” Sailyn whispered.

“Who?”

“I can’t tell.”

An orange light shone up ahead. Mak flinched, but kept his ground.

“A soldier.” A gentle voice came from the light. Someone was on the tree. “I snatched the kerosene to signal you.”

“Who are you?” Sailyn whispered in response.

Whoever it was, left the shelter of branches and creeped down on the ground. After a few steps, he held the light up next to his face, which unveiled a taller than average figure with a white beard that matched his tone. “No one of importance,” he said. “But someone more interesting wishes to visit you.” He offered them the lamp. “Follow me.”

“Who knows if there really is a soldier up on the alley.” Mak said.

“You don’t trust your girl’s instincts, then go find out.”

Mak hesitated, trying not to look at Sailyn. “Who are you from?”

“Jin,” answered the man. “No more questions.”

 Hearing the name was assuring. They followed.

Jin was the head of the sanctuary, the man who was going to arrange them a ship to flee. He had a complicated relationship with god, as a result with the god killer, and finally the man who had released him: Zefor. So robbing the emperor was not of his concern, but the flipside, he offered a hand in exchange for a cut. The deal was made, and one could never back down once the deal was made. So what was this about? Urged Mak to ask the guiding man, but he scurried the garden filled with soggy soil covered by shrubs surrounded by trees, passed them through a secret exit in shape of a crack in the wall, and made sure they are kept behind on the now emptier roads of the city. The ring was out of sky, both ends hidden by the blocks.

 

 

The exit was up ahead in shape of an inclined gate open for everyone. Not many strangers visited however, so Jin appearing in the gate at that moment was bewildering. Mak and Sailyn stopped at the wide exit stairs as he slowly approached, one step at a time. His large figure barely visible through the light of torches, despite having a kerosene in hand himself.

“Dark nights,” said Jin. “Or days. Your firs, but not mine. I was very young the last time it occurred, but I remember vividly. It rained nonstop, you couldn’t keep a flame alive, you couldn’t make out anyone’s face. The woods were damp, the oil was rare. Some went searching when hunger struck them, some went missing. An eerie silence held the city all the week, but not this time I suppose. Ah, dark hours indeed.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” said sailyn. “What if they find out?”

“Is that how you welcome me?”

“He has something to say,” Maklevien said. “Or he wouldn’t have come. So tell me, is it the prices you are here for?”

Jin laughed the way he walked down the stairs. “A deal is a deal Mak, remember, you can never change it once you sign it.”

“Then what am I missing?”

“What’s the hurry?” Jin eyed around and continued in a whisper, “Why don’t you take us somewhere more… quietly maybe.”

It was unnecessary, but Mak didn’t want to argue. A moment later the three of them were sitting around a table in his room, located at the north-eastern corner of the underground, two floors beneath the main corridor. Jin’s kerosene next to Maklevien’s on the table, it was taller, brighter; detailed with skulls and extinct creatures having weirdly long tails or wings. Colored in gold.

Like every non-symorratic, Jin had a metal circling his head, like a crown, passing through forehead. “The emperor’s life is miserable lately, thanks to the useless fuss of those on the surface. Well, maybe not useless to you Mak, I imagine you see it very fit to break into the city’s keep, considering all the soldiers guarding it regardless of what goes on outside.”

“Am I hearing pro-Zefor words from a man of sanctuary?” Said Maklevien. “You weren’t concerned about the soldiers last time we talked.”

“Oh, you judge too quickly lad. I don’t mind people having some hateful parades, or – with a gesture towards Mak -  claiming some of Zefor’s wealth for themselves. But I would be delighted if they think of something more… serious let’s say. Can you please pass me some of your sweet wine?”

Maklevien hesitated, but got up and reached for the mug of wine and a cup behind him on the floor.

“Everything has gotten more expensive since the past couple years of wars hasn’t it?” Jin laughed the way he laughed before. “Fear not lad, you will soon have enough.”

Maklevien put the cup next to Jin’s kerosene.

“Speaking of the war,” Jin continued, sipping on the wine, “It’s ending.”

“What?” said Sailyn.

“Thank the monster for that, people are useless.”

“How can the god killer end wars? His controversy has started one right here.”

“He is not the god killer,” Jin stared at Sailyn. “No one is. Valashi is nothing more than a pawn of the destiny, a monster puppet. He has no business with the gods.”

“Talking of your books and prophecies again.” Said Maklevien.

“And to your question,” Jin told Sailyn, ignoring Mak, “the eastern kings have been the new targets for the impalers. And this Valashi, he somehow knows when and where the impalers will attack. This information has gotten the favor of the kings. Four elites, one from each, together at one place they have negated the last two impalers’ attacks. So now they talk of peace with the empire, unite against the evil and such.”

“Smart tactic from Zefor.” Mak said. “So? Good news?”

“There is more to the story.” Said Jin with hesitation. The rugged clothes and wet hair were not the reason he seemed to have difficulty expressing. “Zefor is hiding something from everyone, including his new allies.”

“Zefor Is hiding many things. Common in politics. Is that what you came to tell us?”

“Valashi promised him a flying ship.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Not if they existed.”

“In some pre-ice age text books.”

“Which only proves they existed.”

“I once saw it, I think.” Sailyn whispered, staring into the flickering flame of the kerosenes. “A giant oval balloon surfing through the night sky. I was so young, barely remember it. Even convinced myself that it’s a made up memory for that moment’s desperation. I was lost in what seemed like an infinite sprawl of lands and lakes. I was scared, no, more than scared. But then I saw a light floating up ahead. It felt serene. I followed it. And… soon I saw people again.” A drop of tear radiated through her eyelashes before it dragged down her cheek. “Sorry.”

“Well, maybe it is just that,” Maklevien said. “A made up memory.”

“A tale of lonely the voyager. I am not the only one in this, some even met the person. Yet all the descriptions are parallel. And if Valashi has mentioned it… I think it’s worthy of considering.”

“Look, it’s a big game that we know very little about, but play your role and you might get a piece of it. Valashi knows much more than we do. But I have good reasons to believe whatever him and Zefor are after, is related to power in one way or another. Zefor is a typical man with typical urges.”

“Zefor is not typical nor is Valashi a puppet. I am a thief Jin, a good one, but I rather play on my own league.”

“That’s why you need the help of the elites.”

“You don’t want to spy on Zefor to the enemy.” Sailyn said. “That’s betrayal.”

“I want you to spy to the enemy. I already betrayed him when I made a deal to help you guys. I am only loyal to god. And lucky me, everything is going exactly as prophesized. I want to be ready for when god arrives.”

“God is just another one of your stories, he can’t even stop the impalers. If I were you I would have preferred to be on Valashi’s side these days.”

“She Mak, god will be a she.” 

Maklevien looked at Jin for a moment and then chuckled. “You are insane.”

Jin left the empty cup of wine on the table and picked his kerosene. “Well, I will be leaving now. But if you were smart, you would have listened to what I had to offer.” And walked to the door.

“Wait.” Mak said. “What do you offer?”

“Freedom. Full permission.”

 

On the first night of the week long darkness, Maklevien in which Mak was first seen in shadows, ripped a piece of cloth off his shirt and dipped it in the bucket of paint. The cloth carried the paint to his Sanesenum, but not only to his Sanesenum. Because what it was made of despite being the toughest metal, always found a way to be intricate. In Mak’s case when he was but a child it had chosen to cling to his left cheek and formed a shape that could be best described as scars of a two clawed beast connected through tiny streams of blood. Maklevien had grown, and apparently so did the metal, getting too close to his eye from the top corner, further impersonating its vile look.

Other Symorratics stared him down as if the act of painting a metal was too complex for them to grasp. In some way they might have been the smarter in the hall. No one had ever done that, there was no point. Maklevien didn’t know, didn’t care. But he slipped away one of his abstract thoughts as if explaining to himself, “we want our metals like the night.” It was what his instincts told him, a simple why could end his performance. He had never thought of that up until then. Sailyn was the only one beside him, she grabbed the cloth and did the same paint to her Sanesenum. Sailyn in which Sai was first seen in in glowing trees, Sanesenum had formed one of the most unique patterns seen in Cavebris on the left side of her neck down to collarbone when she was but a child; a pattern that could be best described as if the rings of the planet unfolded each of its many layers to depict streams that flowed to the sky. It was all covered in black at this point. Ruining the multi-dimensional look it had. She released the cloth to fall on the floor.

“We are going to infiltrate the Cavebris palace,” Mak said.

That was a trigger to change the mood of the hall. From perplexed to defiance. A particular voice distinguished itself from the hum of the crowd, it said, “suicide mission.” Voice of the young man with Sanesenum hidden on his back, Maklevien remembered him, the one who pushed a guard into the wall of corridor, silhouette still visible welcoming any by passers. “Zefor’s palace might be packed with soldiers. We wouldn’t know unless it’s too late.”

That was fair.

Another voice however, managed to silent the crowd. “If Zefor catches even one of us, he will collapse all the underground halls on Symorratics.” Rass was his name, a middle aged man who almost never lied. “You better have a plan Mak, or you will see my wrath before we see Zefor’s.” He finished sentence with a fist forward, Sanesenum on fingers.

Not so fair now.

There were two torches in the room facing each other. The torch on the north gleamed a sword beneath itself, too massive to be called a sword. Held straight to the wall with chains and braces, which resembled more of a design and less of a confinement. The legacy of one of the first Symorratics who left a name behind, through irony, an immortal who killed another immortal. This was the weapon, too big to slash and too sharp to thrust. Maklevien grabbed it by the pommel and with a sudden pull, it came off the wall.

“Do you know why the fear us?” He said, back to others. Scanning the grey look of the weapon. “They don’t know what our next move is, they can never know what we are up to. Because we don’t even know it ourselves.” And by a spin, he threw the sword like a spear among the crowd. It opened Rass’ face. He was on the floor. Dead.

 

The ring was disappearing again after 40 years. It had started with a dark split in the middle of the ring, and like a plague kept eating on both ends towards east and west.