Für
Cielo, an amused muse.
Heretics and Idiots por Marta Roussel Perla se distribuye bajo una Licencia Creative Commons Atribución-NoComercial-SinDerivadas 4.0 Internacional.
Basada en una obra en http://parafernaliablablabla.blogspot.ie/.
Heretics and Idiots:
Coordinate
your legs! Do not fall!
Run, run, run for your life! Don’t
throw up that beer, you paid for it!
Run, faster! Run!
Her legs burnt, her lungs started
failing and she couldn’t catch her breath, every movement felt like headache
and, in the middle of her drunkenness, the world didn’t seem to know where it
was.
Skin like parchment, muscle and sinew
strings, clotted blood after her and her iron, stained and shiny, defying the
moon. They growled, coming on her heels.
And she, determined, stared at that
gate before her, as the ground under her feet looked to be following another
way.
In a time like that, they were faster
than her, and she knew it.
High grass passed her by like a dark
blur. Her sword finished two of them standing in her way, the sister’s
movements were perfect, although, she burped when exhaling as she thrusted her
blade at one of them. Surprisingly, she also killed a third one when hauling
her sword out from the second undead skull.
She kept on running, more tired. She
hit the door with her body, unable to stop. She opened it. She closed it. She
used herself to barricade it.
Where she was?
Chairs, tables, wall made of stone… ¿a
lounge?
–Twelve chimes on the other side of
reality… –a man was sitting over there, absent-mindedly looking to the
infinite.
–The dead are going to break through!
–she shouted–. We need to bar this gate!
–…souls gather before the primeval
fear…
–Hey, asshole, help me out!
–…the horned lords shall bow their
heads…
She needed to find an escape route,
they would probably get distracted with that madman, giving her time enough to
run away without being followed.
Moonlight, as it passed through their
thick glass, coloured the floor in darkness.
The dead banged at the door and at the
stained glass windows. She wasn’t sure she could hold on much longer.
She saw a postern.
And she plunged at it.
And that door opened.
A staff casted an intense pale blue
glow, glimmering still as no fire could ever do. The dead instantly froze.
–I need your help –said a young man
voice–. Are you drunk?
That madman didn’t stop blathering and
the necromancer, visibly fascinated, started to take notes.
Zoe, in that unreal situation, decided
to vomit.
Sombra, her crow, managed to get
through and join her. It cawed as it flew from her shoulder to the nearby
tables.
Long minutes after that Zoe addressed
the necromancer:
–Aatami, what are you doing here? Why
in hell did you kill these people?
–I did it in self-defence –he answered
plainly.
–Against librarians? Do you really want
to convince me you didn’t set up and scenario in which you didn’t foresee them
assailing you?
–I guess the show is part of the job:
black clothes, skulls… people like to know what to expect –he
laughed–. If I am robbed, does that mean that I
am asking for it?
She looked at him, annoyed.
–They
attacked me when having sight of my staff –he said, now noticeably angry–. I
asked them if I could commence certain readings and they attacked me –he
insisted–. This is a library and I wanted to read and I wanted nobody to kill
me because of it. I honestly thought this was the proper place for that –he
defended himself, showing her a book out from his cloak.
She
counted those corpses on the floor.
–Hey,
and about the fifteenth librarian… –she mentioned–, was it also in
self-defence?
–Perhaps
you find it hard to believe but, I promise you, it wasn’t a turn-based combat.
–I’m
sorry, I’m not used to take the necromancers’ side: I hunt you –she explained–.
I hunt you all and your creations –her crow cawed–. Do you think there are no
reasons to destroy you all?
–That
answer requires from certain nuances and that is precisely why I am here. Do
you fancy a tea?
–Of
course.
–That
man picked my interest. He can be either an oracle or just insane. We’ll bring
him with us. Someone should feed him. As we get out, could you please kill
those zombies?
She
glared at the bruised and fractured face of that last zombie standing on the
field, face to face, her choked breathing as a sign of her exhaustion. That
dead body was shredded skin, traces of muscle and bone. The female undead stood
completely still. A blood blister on her cheek. A wound in her shoulder,
punctured.
Zoe
looked in her eyes, for a moment they reflected a plea close to sadness, it was
just an instant. It lasted just an instant.
–How
can a cabin in the woods be so cosy? –she asked right after Aatami gave her a
small glass of tea. They were illuminated by the candlelight.
–Do you
know what this man is talking about? –the necromancer queried, observing that
strange fellow in a corner.
–I
don’t think he does either…
–He’s
relating an old prophecy –that madman went on reciting those unfathomable
verses.
–The
kind that mentions those Highly Unfriendly Gods?
–We
called them the Ancient Ones back in the Academy. What do you know about the
Church?
–It’s
divided in four branches: the Sisterhood of the Death, which I belong to; the
War Maidens, who ironically don’t tend to take part in any war; the… Wait a
moment, why the hell are you asking about this?
–I
incorrectly formulated my question, my apologies. Do you know anything about
the Church origins? Why it was created?
–To
erase necromancy. Well, the Church of War doesn’t seem to have any purpose
other than the practice, and… the Church of Disease works on healing it, and
the Famine one is up to alleviate it. But the Sisterhood is the first branch.
My sisters and I work making sure dead things stay dead. Judging by your looks,
I don’t get a single one right.
–How
long have you been a sister?
–I was
a little child when I arrived to the monastery, given that I started fighting
when I was around fourteen or fifteen years old… I guess I’m a sister since you
were born.
–And
you never wondered why necromancers are, why they can’t extinguish their own
creations, only bring them to a halt?
–Yeah,
but when I’m killing them, they can’t give the best answers –Sombra cawed and
flapped its black feathers.
–Let’s
come back to your Highly Unfriendly Gods. They devastated the world more than a
thousand years ago.
–That’s
true –she agreed.
–Do you
know where they extracted their energy from, which allowed them to access our
reality?
–Mmm…
–Have
you ever asked yourself how do we necromancers reanimate the dead?
–I hope
this isn’t a tricky question. Errr… with magic? –Zoe ventured.
–The
dead still have a spark of life we use, to utterly destroy it the Death sisters
must finish them.
–Are
you telling me that those Highly Unfriendly Gods obtain their energy from the
undead?
–No,
I’m telling you they obtain that energy from the dead, from all of them. I know
it breaks your official tale, but the Church of Death was born along with the
Academy of Necromancers to ensure that any remaining energy in every corpse was
properly extinguished and, thus, the Old Ones couldn’t make any use of it.
–Are
you making such affirmation on any basis?
–Yes,
indeed I spent the last two years of my life on gathering documental support
for this theory.
Aatami
reached a shelf and placed some ominously bulky codices on the table.
Are you
making such affirmation on any summarized
basis? –she enquired in an alarmed tone of voice–. I won’t read that, no way.
Besides, where did you get those books?
–Some
of them from the forbidden city of Untersagt. Regarding this one –he said about
the book he just borrowed– from the Svalbard Library. I believe they have a
shortage of librarians now.
–But
what could have happened? Necromancers don’t go around now summoning undead so
that my sisters can kill them, I’ve never heard of something like that. In
fact, they muster small armies of undead people to achieve their own goals. And
reasonably, to defeat those zombies in the long run, we need to face every
necromancer we find as well.
–Certainly,
what remains today is nothing but a residual tale about ancient rituals,
already forgotten. In case my theory is correct, consequences are going to be…
lingering, nonetheless. And I love being right, but the only way to be always
right is to admit when you’re wrong, so let’s tread carefully.
–Who
the fuck would’ve covered something like that?
–Probably
nobody, probably everybody.
–Not a
very specific answer.
–Honestly,
Zoe, I don’t believe there’s a conspiracy to set the Old Ones free, I don’t
think there’s anybody to blame for devising an evil plan which will lead us to
our extinction. In my opinion men and women forgot their History through
centuries of infighting for power, I’ve read about small groups attempting to
keep the essence of our struggle or to transform it, I’ve read about frontiers
colliding and countries at war which had other priorities to handle provided
the Sisterhood of the Death was relatively present. Taking the writings into
account, at some point during the fourth century the alliance between the
Church and the Academy was so deteriorated that all communication got cut. It
is easy to imagine how a black legend around the Academy could have been spread
and it’s a reasonable consequence that, after years of vicious prosecution and
hunt and constant endeavour to regroup, the necromancers themselves adapted
little by little to that narrative. There are copies of these books in
Untersagt, meaning that at least a few people kept these records and possibly
had some knowledge about how the world looked like after the Old Ones coming.
–I
guess the Highly Unfriendly Gods must perceive a lot of energy after the
Warming and the Wars Age… why they didn’t come sooner? Our ancestors were
famous due to their discoveries and technology, but also for killing and
slaving millions of people throughout the centuries.
–I’m
afraid I can only offer speculations to you –he answered.
–And
what’s the relation between all that and this guy? –interrogated Zoe while
looking at that ever muttering man.
–I
don’t know, perhaps he lost his sanity, but in case he is an oracle as he looks
like… He would be warning us about our close end. It makes sense considering
that energy accumulation by the Old Ones is a constant and slow process.
–And
what do I have to do with this? –she probed.
–You’re
going to help me –Aatami answered–, you’re a legend, aren’t you?.
–Are
you crazy?! –she roared–. I am a necromancer’s friend, I’m not the most
orthodox Death’s sister, precisely. I might be a legend but they look at me as
if I were a weirdo, man! –after some cursing time she managed to calm herself–.
You say I must help you. Help you with what? –of course, she was already afraid
of the words he was going to pronounce.
–Help
me restore the alliance between Church and Academy and find any mean to destroy
the Old Ones or reinforce dimensional boundaries –the wizard stated.
–You’re
freaking out. And I’m freaking out, you’re telling me the world…
–…is
not what it looks like. But it makes sense, am not I right?
They
drank their tea, pensively.
At
first they didn’t notice, but it was already there.
A deep
silence broke through the cabin, so intense that they were capable of hearing
their own hearts pumping blood, their breath too loud, their eyelids when
blinking, their hair standing on end, their ears clicking while reacting to
that absence of any external sound.
Perhaps
instinctively, they gazed at the oracle: his body bloated and rippled, his skin
darkened, every part of him seemed to get torn off and reassembled. The echo of
those abhorrent sounds among the emptiness reverberated inside the heads like a
nightmare.
A beast
beyond definition had managed to cross in order to devour all sanity.
And the
flow of time had ended.
Heretics and Idiots por Marta Roussel Perla se distribuye bajo una Licencia Creative Commons Atribución-NoComercial-SinDerivadas 4.0 Internacional.
Basada en una obra en http://parafernaliablablabla.blogspot.ie/.
Mi inglés es básico y no me permite apreciar demasiadas cosas. En la primera parte capté que Zoe, borracha, corre porque es perseguida ¿por la muerte? y no entendí si ella, o alguien más, corta cabezas con su espada. Se refugia en una casa y allí se encuentra con tipo medio raro.
ResponderEliminarDespués me perdí y mucho más no pude rescatar con un tercer personaje que aparece. Supongo que es la continuación de un relato largo o de una novela.
Te mando un gran abrazo, Marta.
Hola, Mirella, muchas gracias por tu visita. Éste es el primer capítulo de una novela de que mezcla elementos de la ciencia-ficción, fantasía y terror con un poco de filosofía, ecología, feminismo y asperger. Pero no tienes por qué leerla en inglés: tienes este mismo texto en español justo en la entrada anterior.
Eliminar¡Un abrazo! ^_^
Gracias, Marta, no me di cuenta, se me habrá pasado.
EliminarBesos.