Chapter 3 - Catacylsm

The figure was massive. She stood easily the height of 50 men, perhaps more. She loomed over the whole of the plains, behind her the cataclysm reigned fire and lightning without cessation. The footfalls of her bare feet ruptured stone and earth alike. She walked forward seemingly without care, crushing everything underfoot. The white gown which flowed down from a single shoulder billowed out behind her. Her wild hair, both loose and in braids reached down the small of her back. Conversely to the scene which followed behind her, every aspect of her essence seemed entirely undisturbed by gravity or outside influence. Her hair and gown danced lazily upon the air in complete contrast to the raging winds and fire behind her. It seemed she cared absolutely nothing for the world around her, even her gaze was subdued by the braided locks of hair which covered it. She walked forth unceasingly, imbued with an aura of despondent grace. Arwin was almost entranced by her beauty and tranquility for a moment, before the screams of terror from the village girls shook him to focus. He darted down the path and grabbed the shoulders of a young man who had been frozen in fear.

“Arthur!” Arwin shouted in the man’s face, shaking him from the shoulders. “Where is my mother, my sisters? Have you seen them?” The young man’s gaze pulled away from the distant sight for a moment to meet eyes with Arwin. His look made Arwin’s blood run cold. “Have you seen them!?” Arwin repeated again.

“Down…” Arthur gestured his finger down the path. “Towards the bakers, I heard them say…” Arwin loosened his grip on the young man and turned to dart down the path. “But Arwin…!” Arthur broke out. “There’s no point… The goddess…” Arwin grit his teeth and continued down the path. How pathetic, he thought. He would not spend his last moments gripped in fear, he would do something.

Blazing down the path with the utmost haste, Arwin stormed up to the baker’s shoppe. A few people lingered outside. One man stood transfixed on the sight in the distance, another had dropped to his knees to pray. A mother held her young daughter in her arms and comforted her, rocking her back and forth and telling her everything was going to be ok. The daughter stared perfectly straight, as if transfixed on something no one could see. Arwin pushed open the door to the bakery and called for his sister, but the inside was empty. Not dissuaded, he headed further down the path towards the base of the village. Each familiar face he found along the way he questioned, yet each yielded a similarly useless reply. Most were too spellbound by the goddess, while others still clung to each other or ran off towards the crest of the hill, attempting to seek sanctuary in the chief’s hall. As his search continued and he still failed to yield results, panic began to grip Arwin’s heart. Was this it? His family, his village, his friends. Was it all going to meet a fiery end? What had roused the goddess now? So long it had been since man had seen the gods walk the earth they had faded into a mythic status, but it was clear as day the one who stomped across the plains was the goddess of the triumvirate, Aelithae. Questions raced through his mind, none of this made any sense. Aelithae was the one who shown grace and mercy to mankind, according to every legend she alone had stopped the rampage of Valigar and saved Gaelmark alone from the cleansing of life. That was the legend and she was venerated for her role in mankind’s salvation ever since. What would have caused such a change? The thought the tales and legends were true was only of a secondary concern, the realization that indeed the gods were real and all powerful was only secondary to the panic of seeing one destroying the whole of the continent before his very eyes. His head pounded, so many questions were spinning in his mind. Was there no escape? Was it all meaningless? His life had just begun to get interesting and now here it is slipping away from him without any meaningful conclusion. What in the hells was the point of being born if this was what awaited him in life. Was he really born just to die without knowing anything?

“Damn it all!” Arwin fell to his knees and punched the earth. There was not a single thing he could do. Who could oppose a god? The village had been just and kept the faith, there was no reason for this. A loud rumbling rang out, louder than the usual. Looking back, Arwin realized Aelithae had walked blindly into one of the few short hills that sat within the plains. The rock and earth from her inadvertant kick had been sent flying up into the air, raining down upon the foremost part of the village plains, just outside the walls. The impact of this massive upheaval of earth and stone sent out a massive shockwave. The whole of the village lurched, from his vantage point he could see multiple houses and storefronts collapse in, some falling onto one another. Screams and sobbing could be heard all around. The cataclysm was close now, another few minutes and she would be upon them. It was clear Aelithae had no intention to spare the village or its inhabitants. The whole of the forefront of the village’s land was already swarmed with rubble from the bombardment. Gesturne’s tower was likely next.

Wait, perhaps there is an answer, Arwin thought. The mage! If anyone had even a sliver of hope for salvaging this situation, of course it had to be the mage. Arwin braced himself to begin to run out of the gates of the village to his right, but stopped himself for a moment. It dawned on him he was about to make a very important decision. Whichever way he went might be the last choice of his life. Was he to resign himself to death and seek comfort in the arms of his family in his last moments, or risk dying alone to employ the held of the mage? He faltered. Frozen in fear of the unknown. The loving faces and voices of his family called to him in his mind. It would not be so sour of a death if it was in their arms. The kindly face of his older sister, to see her smile one last time. Perhaps that would be the best death. His shoulders relaxed. Yes, it was a simply choice. No need to brave the unknown for some little sliver of hope. What could the mage do against a god? He turned and was about to head up the hill when a certain memory crossed into his mind. The mage’s excited face flashed into his vision. ‘And I will teach you perhaps a small secret about this world’. The line echoed again. A strange feeling welled up inside Arwin. Was it longing? He longed for his the loving embrace of his family that was true, but another greater urge seemed to call for him. He wanted to know the truth. What was the truth of this world? Did the mage really have some idea? A reason why all these happy faces were born just to die in terror? He could not deny his heart. He had to know. Even some sliver of the truth would be enough for him. He grit his teeth. Tears formed in his eyes. He was not abandoning his family, he was chasing hope. He said it in his heart, but some part of him knew he would never see them again. Wiping his sour tears, Arwin ran out of the village gate.

The destruction was greater than he had imagined. The bombardment from Aelithae’s footfalls had rendered the path nearly unrecognizable. If not for the few familiar landmarks ahead of him, he would have had no indication that the tower lay ahead of him. As he ran down the sundered path, the whole of the earth shook with greater and greater intensity. Aelithae was gaining ground on the village at a shocking rate. From the village to Imilator was over a weeks journey on horseback yet the goddess was going to clear the distance in less than an hour. Although it was not yet midday, the darkness made it appear to be as if it was evening. The sky was greatly darkened by the encroaching storm of hellfire and the dense smoke that arose from the scorched landscape had begun to drift on the wind and reach the outskirts of the village. Across the empty expanse of the plains, the raging fires and whipping winds serves to fill the shorts period of quiet in which no new meteor impact roared. At times, the shockwaves caused his feet to falter from under him, sending him stumbling face first into the earth. Each time he quickly gathered himself and pushed onwards. If not for the adrenaline raging through his body, he would no doubt be racked with pain. The vibration was so strong that he could feel his gums bleed as his teeth rattled against each other. The dense vile smoke that had begun to settle into the clearing from the north was like poison to his lungs, a strong taste of metal filled his mouth and a scent sulfur clouded his nose. Regardless of any of this, he had already chosen his path and nothing was going to stop him. The tower was nearly in sight now, obscured by large clouds of dust and smoke that had been kicked up by the bombardment. Skirting the edge of a large crater, still smoldering with the force of impact, Arwin had finally reached close enough for the tower to be clearly in view. When he saw it, his heart dropped. A third of the bottom section of the tower had been completely obliterated, the scattered remnants of a massive boulder which had impacted nearby was strewn all around. The tower itself was pockmarked with hundreds of impact holes ranging from the size of his fist to the size of an oxen. Fire raged in the lower level, the books and tables which he had seen just days before were fully engulfed in flame. Priceless artifacts shattered in every direction. The massive stone door which had seemed entirely impenetrable now lay on its side, a large crack down the middle. Upon its sundering, whatever magic had enhanced it seemed to have failed and now intricate markings, previous invisible, sat bare on its face. Arwin’s heart sank, had he made the wrong decision? Closer now, he reached the yard of the tower. The tall grasses lay overturned, covered in slags of earth. Arwin bounded over the broken door and entered the threshold. Thankfully the fire had not fully consumed the first level and the staircase was still untouched. As he ventured further inside, he kicked a smoldering table which had just recently caught fire off into the blaze. The floor itself was stone, he reckoned if he could keep the fire contained to the other side of the room he would have time to rendezvous with the mage on the top level and make an escape together.

What was his plan? He had come here in such a hurry he just assumed the mage would have one already. Never had he expected the tower to be in such complete disarray. The destruction was on another level entirely. Clearing the staircase, he reached the second floor. Scanning through the smoke and haze, he could not see Gesturne anywhere. The plants and vials which had adorned this floor were reacting wildly to the heat and shockwaves. Some plants almost seemed alive, squirming and twisting about as they reacted to the heat below. Many of the vials had been smashed, their contents spilled upon the floor and tables. One in particular seemed to have melted a hole into the table it had spilled upon and was eating away at the stone floor beneath it. Another two had mixed together and bubbled and hissed and they spit an assuredly toxic gas that seemed to linger in place without care for physics or gravity. Another still had frozen solid two plants it spilled upon, their glacial forms steaming as the heat from the fires below enveloped them. Shaking off these absurd sights, Arwin continued up the stairs. Upon reaching the top level, the feeling of dread within his gut reached its climax. The third floor had taken the majority of the share of shrapnel. Almost everything was littered with holes on the western side. The eastern portion which had contained the strange meticulous markings was more or less untouched, but this was of little concern to Arwin. Immediately he beheld the form of Gesturne, who had been seemingly caught unaware. He was slumped over on the ground, in nearly the exact same spot Arwin had seen him days before. A pool of shallow crimson blood surrounded him, rippling out from all directions as the tower shook. In his clutches, he was holding his tablet. Upon the table, the blue card that Arwin had lent him sat surrounded by peculiar tools made of metal. Arwin rushed to the mage’s side, careful not to catch his foot in any of the many holes that had been impacted into the floor. Arwin knelt down in the blood and turned the mage over.

The damage was severe. The whole of one arm had been completely blown off, his leg was bent in the wrong direction and his neck and head had clearly suffered a high level of trauma, though the exact extent was concealed behind his long hair which had stuck to his skin from the blood which covered nearly the whole of his being. Fear gripped Arwin’s heart, the mage was unresponsive. Reaching down, the boy checked the old man’s pulse. It was hard to feel for it amidst all the rumbling, but after a moment of deep concentration he could determine that the mage’s heart still beat.

“Oh gods, what now?” Arwin called out in desperation.

“Greetings unknown user. Please specify your prompt.” A strange voice hummed back at him. Arwin spun around to examine the room, but he was still alone with the mage. He thought momentarily that he was going mad before he realized the voice was emanating from the stone tablet that Gesturne was clutching.

“Administrator vitals critical. Emergency contact mode engaged.” The tablet chimed again, in its emotionless tone. “Please contact the guild offices for assistance. If a guild administrator is unable to assist you at this time, please place me against the sternum of the administrator for guidance on administering emergency aid.” The tablet continued to drone on, Arwin only vaguely recognized some of the words it said. It spoke in an overly formal tone. He considered himself luck that it spoke his language at all. Repeating its lines a few times, the tablet continued to call out to him for some kind of response. Arwin had no idea what guild it spoke of, but he was assured there was no help coming but himself. Given the circumstances he defaulted to the secondary instruction from the tablet and placed it upon Gesturne’s chest. The tablet chimed and hummed again. It thanked him for the prompt assistance and began to give some report on the mage’s vitals and biology.

“Post cadaverous material integrity at 73%. Soft tissue and gray matter levels critical. Use of biomechanical chamber recommended immediately. Chance of survival without consciousness transmission: 47%.” The tablet continued. “Type C transfusion required. Would you like a subliminal report on Azelian methodology for this procedure?” Arwin had no idea what the device was saying. He had a vague recollection of a discussion he had with some village boys in the past, one who had been particularly interested in magery had compiled some theories on how the devices worked. The boy had figured that inside the stone was a tiny man, a homunculus, which lived inside the rock and somehow fed on a diet on the mage could provide. That was, he said, the reason why the tablets only responded to their mage masters and could speak with a human voice and intellect. He also figured that the tablet homunculus must have an exceedingly long life, which is why it could be passed from one long-lived master to the next and also hold onto the secrets of ancient antiquity with ease. Arwin had no idea if this was true or not, but lacking in any other leads he picked up the tablet and shook it.

“If you’re in there, little stone man, listen up! Your master is on the verge of death. I need him up and able to move and I need it done now! Whatever your bargain is for this, I don’t care.” Arwin grit his teeth in frustration. “My firstborn son, my soul, its yours, just wake him!”

“Initializing” the tablet hummed. It sat quietly for a minute as it seemed to process his request. “Administrator requires immediate resuscitation for an urgent task, is this a correct summation of the present situation?”

“Yes, yes! I need him now!” Arwin pleaded with the tablet. Another large shockwave shook the tower. He could hear the fire crackling downstairs, by now it might have spread to the stairwell. All manner of terrifying thoughts gripped him.

“Understood. Request is in compliance with user authorization. Verified biometrics are at the required levels for a state of emergency. Please place me beneath the outer cranium of the administrator.”

“What?” Arwin sputtered. “Speak plainly, you stone imp!” The tablet hummed again before responding.

“Lay this device underneath the head of user: Gesturne.” It said Gesturne’s name in a strange fashion, outside of its normal speech pattern, as if it was unclear on how to pronounce his name. Arwin set this peculiarity aside and quickly followed the tablet’s instruction. He rolled Gesturne onto his back and placed the tablet beneath his head. It was strangely light, far so than someone would assume for something made of stone. It seemed almost as if the stone was a facade that held something else inside it instead. The device hummed again, this time at a higher pitch and frequency than before. It began to glow. Dimly at first then brighter and brighter, Arwin could feel a slight heat begin to rise from it and wondered if he had made a mistake. Before he could reach down to confirm any suspicions, the tablet suddenly began to glow with a much greater intensity. In a manner of moments the device had gone visually from a simple piece of stone to a brightly glowing slab. It shone out an intense blue light, a light so intense it pained Arwin to look upon it. He looked away and shielded his eyes. Just as the intensity was building to a point he had considered moving away, it ended abruptly. Arwin turned back slowly, his eyes readjusting to the dimly lit smoky room. Beneath Gesturne’s head, the tablet had all but crumbled to pieces. Only few sections remained larger than an acorn. The rest had already crumbled to dust. Incredibly, the mage seemed far better instantly. The color had returned to his cheeks and the large wounds on his neck and head seemed to have rejuvenated. His bloodied hair still stuck to them but this time they were not clinging to open wounds but rather intact skin. Arwin could not believe what he was seeing.

Gesturne’s eyes slowly opened, and he scanned his surroundings. Arwin quickly helped him up and rested him against the remains of his desk.

“I’m alive?” The mage asked, still taking in his situation. “What are you doing here, Arwin son of Emil?”

“Mr Magus, Aelithae is rampaging across the plains, destroying everything in her path. She did this to your tower and the village is next. You must help me.” Arwin pleaded desperately. “Please, please! Is there not something you can do?”

“Is that so…” Gesturne trailed off, his spirits seemed to diminish slightly when reminded of what was happening. “I suppose its too late for me then.” He looked down at his mangled limbs, then back up to Arwin. “Where is my Ogham, my speaking stone?” He searched around his feet but winced in pain as he tried to move, his body reminding him of his sorry state.

“The tablet?” Arwin trailed off. “I’m sorry… the little man inside sacrificed himself for you. I placed him underneath your head at his instruction and after he crumbled into dust you revived.” Arwin hung his head in dismay, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

“What? What nonsense are you talking about?” Gesturne looked quizzically at the boy. He followed Arwin’s gaze down towards the remains of the tablet. “Oh, I see. It came to that then? I’m surprised that even worked.” Gesturne raised his lesser mangled hand and lightly stroked his bloodied beard.

“I’m sorry.” Arwin said quietly. “I didn’t know what would become of him, you must be cross to lose him…”

The mage gaze another quizzical look to the boy, then shook his head.

“I’m not sure who you mean, but save the tears for another day boy. We still have some recourse left to us if we act quickly.” Gesturne began to drag his bloodied body across the floor, making for the side of the tower which still remained mostly intact. “Come along now, help me over to the incantation.” Arwin rose from his crouch at the mage’s insistence and carried him closer to the strange scribblings on the floor.

“What good is this?” Arwin inquired with a hopeless tone. “It’s just some markings? What good will that do against a goddess?”

Gesturne let out a pained guffaw.

“Just markings? Ha! You would not know a masterwork thesis if it lay beneath your feet, and just such a thing happens to lay beneath them now.” Through his painful, ragged voice, a hint of pride sprouted from the mage’s tone. “You stand before the life’s work of ten generations of mages. Ancient secrets unearthed tirelessly from only the scantest remains. An incalculable achievement, even for our kind, and the sole salvation for mankind itself!”

“These… scribblings?” Arwin questioned.

“Bah, unbelievable. To think it would come to this.” Gesturne shook his head in condemnation. “Look into my eyes boy, I’m dead already. So is everyone you know and love. The village, the continent, its all going to burn today and there is nothing that can stop that. The whole of this planet will be scorched into nothing. Not a soul on heaven or earth can stop Her. She wont stop with mankind either. She will sunder the whole of creation and undo all that is or has been.” The mage’s tone was deadly serious. His eyes transfixed solely into Arwin’s. The boy shuttered.

“It’s over then? There’s nothing left to do? We’re doomed?” Helplessness swelled in his heart. He really had made the wrong choice.

“Aye, it seems so. Logically speaking that is. There is nothing possible left to do stop her now.” Gesturne raised a bloody hand and pulled Arwin’s gaze from the floor and back into his own eyes. “Nothing can be done now indeed. But what about then?” He looked at Arwin expectantly, but the boy stared back in confusion.

“I’m not sure now is the time for riddles, Mr. Gesturne.”

“It is not riddle, Arwin son of Emil. Now listen closely, the next actions you take will have great importance for the fate of all mankind.” The pair drew closer to the inscriptions upon the ground, Arwin followed Gesturne’s instructions closely as the mage dictated slight alterations to the boy. All the while the clamor outside drew closer and closer.

“Are we nearly done, Mr. Mage? She is nearly upon us now!” Arwin shouted in growing panic.

“Calm yourself and focus, it is absolutely critical everything is exact. One error, one miscalculation and you could go flying in the complete wrong direction.” Gesturne continued his deliberation for a few moments more. “There! There! Its perfect. Just like that. Now, move along. Yes, a bit to your left. There! Don’t move.” The old man fiddled with his pocket and produced the pendant which Arwin had delivered just days before. The sight of it stirred some strange feeling in the boy’s breast. How greatly he had despised those boring days and now he would have traded anything to get them back.

“But Mr. Gesturne, how will I know what to do? What if I fail?”

“It’s quite simple, boy. You cannot fail. Whatever you do, you must absolutely succeed. You must find her and you must undo whatever heartbreak she has suffered to induce this folly. You simply must, there is nothing else to it.” Arwin still barely understood what was happening, it had all gone by so fast. As he had been fiddling with the strange marking on the floor and adjusting the arcane contraptions around it, Gesturne had been detailing out an unbelievable plan. Arwin was to be transported through time itself, back to the glorious age in which the gods were born, so that he might meet with Aelithae and convince her not to pursue her cataclysm. It all sounded incredibly foolish, but the incredible seriousness which burned within the eye of the mage had swept him along. Now he stood within the clearing of the incantation. The letters which has been merely painted onto the floor had began to rise up and dance in the air. The whole of the tower hummed with power and energy. Gesturne had been chanting methodically in an unknown language for a while now, his eyes glowed dimly with a blue light as the growing maelstrom of lettering flowed along with the incantation.

“Where do I go?! Who do I seek?!” Arwin called out at the top of his lungs, hoping the mage could hear him over the roar of the incantation. Gesturne continued his chant for a moment longer, then came to a stop. He had a soft smile on his face. The roar of the incantation died down, but the letters continued to dance and soar around Arwin. Gesturne looked down at his palm, the strange blue rectangle Arwin had retrieved from the maiden’s statue was in his hand. He stared at it with a bewildered look, then looked up at Arwin. He sat there ponderously for a moment, before a dawning of realization fell upon his face.

“I don’t know.” He replied. “I never knew. This was not my journey, I see that now. This is as far as I go.”

“What! What in the hells are you saying?!” Arwin called in a panicked voice. His eyes locked with Gesturne’s. The old man had a look of acceptance in his eyes for the first time. He seemed totally at peace. The dancing lettering spun upwards into the air and then descended down like a coiled snake striking its pray. It wrapped tightly around Arwin, who screamed out in pain and fear. The black lettering covered him entirely until only his face remained. Then it covered his mouth and nose, then an eye. Just before his last free eye was covered, he watched as a meteor slammed into the tower, obliterating Gesturne and everything else around him.