OF GODS AND MEN
Chapter 17: Pathways
Tarsus awoke
suddenly. He was lying facedown in arid
dirt. He turned his head, resting one
side of his face on the earth as he took in the scene. It was only, some seconds after waking, that
he realized he was breathing.
“How?”
he thought. Only a moment ago he was
losing consciousness, stranded in some unknowable depth of the Crystal
Sea. Now, he was on dry land; a desert,
from the looks of things.
He took short breaths, not wanting
to take the luxury of air for granted.
He waited some moments, contemplating whether or not this was real;
whether or not he was real anymore. He
shifted his body slowly, bringing up his hands and arms to push himself
up. He slid them along the earth - felt
the rocks, pebbles and dirt move beneath him.
Once his hands were in place beside his head, Tarsus took a deep breath,
testing his limits in this strange, new place.
He began coughing immediately,
pushing up onto his knees reflexively. He
had inhaled some dirt and the granules of rock and sand choked him. He got to his feet as he continued to cough hard,
slamming an open palm onto his chest; whatever good that did.
After a few more moments of coughing
and a few more strikes to his chest, alternating between the open palm and a
closed fist, Tarsus got his throat clear.
He breathed in gratefully as he looked out onto the barren and desolate
land he had come to. There was nothing
there. It was all a wasteland, as far as
he could see: east, west and south.
Then Tarsus turned around, orienting
himself north, and his jaw slackened.
Only a short distance before him was a lush forest; the green of the
wood glowing even under the desert sun.
“How
could such a thing grow here?” he pondered.
It was a fleeting thought,
though. Tarsus’s gaze moved up from the
forest, for the earth beyond it rose. On
the far hill, he saw a field of crumbling stone pillars and decaying wooden
cottages. It looked like the bones of a
small village, not unlike Briarden.
Tarsus looked beyond the village and
saw that the earth kept rising still.
Resting even higher up was a majestic cathedral; with towers that soared
high and stained glass windows so large that Tarsus could discern what holy
figures were on them. The cathedral was
large enough to be a palace, and sitting atop it was a great spire that
commanded view.
Tarsus’s eyes moved upwards,
following the spire to its natural zenith.
But the top of the spire was not the end of wonders to behold.
Beyond
even the church, Tarsus saw a sight more lovely than any he had seen in his
life: a sea of golden light that extended from the cathedral only a bit further
upward. He could not see where it began
or where it ended, but it all culminated in a golden ball. From the small sun, shot a brilliant sunbeam
that rose eternally into the heavens.
“The mountain,” Tarsus remembered. “This
is the mountain I saw. And that light…”
Tarsus
felt it, deep in his stomach. It didn’t
feel the same as the pull of a god’s power. What he felt was stronger than that: warmer,
more wholesome. He wanted to enter into
this light and unite with it. He felt
compelled toward it, rather than controlled by it.
Hard
as it was, Tarsus let his gaze fall from the golden light; back over the
cathedral; past the village; over the forest; following the route he would have
to take to reach the summit of this mountain.
At
the mouth of the forest, he saw a path that led inside. It was clearly marked on either side by rows
of small stones that made up its edges.
He followed the path backward from the entrance to the wood, to find
where the road began. He was not at all
surprised to trace its beginning to his very feet.
“Clear enough,” he thought to himself. “One
path. One way. One destination.”
A
forest, a village, and a cathedral had to be traveled through before he reached
that one destination. All while scaling
the side of the tallest mountain Tarsus had ever seen. Still, that is why he had come, he knew. Somehow, he had reached the UnderIsle. Finally, it was time to see what that meant.
“Yes,”
a voice agreed from the air.
Cassius
appeared beside Tarsus. The sunsword did
not see where the demigod came from.
Tarsus did not even look over to acknowledge Cassius, though he felt the
half-god’s greedy eyes on him.
Not
the divine power, though. Tarsus could
not feel the slight tug of Cassius’s power at all. The only desire he felt, burning in the pit
of his stomach like a roaring wild fire, was the need to enter into that light
and join with it.
“That,
my chosen, is the object of our quest,” Cassius said with an audible leer. “Malthir…sword of the GodKing.”
“I
know,” Tarsus said, finally looking at Cassius with wild eyes. “I was
drowning…only
a moment ago. But I see no ocean
nearby.”
“My dear, stupid, foolish friend,”
Cassius condescended. “You still are drowning.”
“What?”
“The UnderIsle is not a physical
island,” Cassius explained. “It is a
spiritual one; the path to which resides in the heart of every man, woman and
child Arden shelters.”
Tarsus took a deep breath, stunned
by this revelation. His mind raced with
dozens of thoughts and questions.
“As we speak, you are unconscious in
the middle of the Crystal Sea,” Cassius went on. “And you do not have long to live.”
“I don’t understand,” Tarsus spoke
quickly as the sweat of fear pricked his brow.
“If the UnderIsle is not a physical place, why sail? If you could get here through any mortal, why
me?”
“No time,” Cassius spat, annoyed
now. “You are dying! I can save you. Bring me the sword, and I will raise you from
beneath the waves.”
Tarsus turned back to look at the
mountain summit. He squinted, raising a
hand to his brow. That glorious light
shone even brighter than before. He
ached to feel it, to possess it…
That is when the awful truth struck
him. He was not the only one who yearned
for the light’s blessing.
“Look at you…”
Tarsus strained to pull his eyes
from the glorious sight and his own reveries.
He just managed it. He turned
back to the demigod, no longer cowed with eyes of fear, but armed against his
would-be master with a look of determined understanding.
Cassius’s self-satisfied smile
melted into the pursed lips of uncertainty.
“You want it as badly as I do,” he stated, more in the tone of a
question than a declaration.
“I do,” Tarsus answered, affirming
the half-god’s suspicion. “Though I
don’t know why. But I will not get
it. You have my friends. We came with you on a mad journey into the
middle of the ocean with no other way back.
You hold all the cards…”
The self-satisfied smile returned.
“Save one,” Tarsus said, putting one
of his big hands roughly onto the demigod’s shoulder. “You need me to do this work for you. So you will answer my questions now, and
promise me that once this is done, my friends and I will be returned to
Malthanon safely.”
Tarsus bent his head to be level
with Cassius. He looked the demigod
square in the eye with unblinking fervor.
“What do you want to know?” Cassius
conceded.
“How much time do I have before I
die?” Tarsus launched into the question.
“Time moves more slowly here, in the
spiritual realm,” Cassius said, looking nervously at the mountain and then back
at Tarsus. “One day, I would guess. One day before your body dies and you are
bound here for all eternity.”
“Good, there is some time,” Tarsus
said, exhaling with relief. “Now tell
me, why did we have to sail here?”
“The spiritual realm is an extension
of the physical realm” Cassius began, speaking rapidly. “Just as mortals…even gods…have a spirit, so
too does Arden. Spiritual places, like
physical ones, can only exist in one location, though…they are known to move
from time to time. I was not lying when
I promised to bring you to the UnderIsle.
I simply did not tell you that you’d need more than just the location of
the island to get there.”
“One of us,” Tarsus clarified.
“Yes,” Cassius confirmed. “Just like a city rests in one land but may
be reached by several roads.
You…mortals…are the roads.”
“But…” Tarsus tried to make sense of
this and phrase his question at the same time.
“We all saw something different.
Different islands.”
“The UnderIsle reflects back at you
your soul’s deepest desire,” Cassius explained, stumbling over his words as he
rushed to get them out. “It changes from
mortal to mortal. A spiritual
place…remember? It is not bound to any
form the same way a physical village or forest are. It is mutable…like faith.”
Tarsus looked hard at Cassius. There was still one question that resounded
above all others in his mind. “Why me?”
“Neither god nor man can come to the
UnderIsle alone,” Cassius admitted.
“Both are needed: god to show the way, and man to walk the path.”
“You’re not here,” Tarsus realized,
seeing through Cassius’s cryptic words.
“That’s why I can’t feel your power.”
Cassius nodded bitterly. “Here, I am naught but shadow. My physical form is safely on the deck of the
Defiance…watching you drown.”
Tarsus perked up, remembering his
body in the physical world beyond. “You
still haven’t answered my question. Why
me? Why not Cecily, or Amelia, or any of
the dozens of sailors on your ship?”
“Because…” Cassius exhaled. “In our souls, you and I want the same
thing. I saw it the moment I looked your
way after overhearing your conversation on the docks of Malthanon. That is why I chose you.”
“I have no interest in the sword,”
Tarsus said weakly.
“Liar,” Cassius accused, his voice
elongating the word with varied pitch.
“Deceiver. The sword is but a
symbol…that is what you want: what you need.
As do I.”
“You want power,” Tarsus
retorted. “I do not.”
“Oh my chosen,” Cassius mocked. “You deceive even yourself. Of the three of you, your UnderIsle showed
the clearest path to the sword. Do you
know why? Because you are a man who
knows…truly knows…what his deepest desire is.
You only question how far you’re willing to go to achieve it.”
Tarsus tried to maintain his
resolute glare, but it was hard in the face of Cassius’s growing
arrogance. He thought of the light at
the top of the mountain, and the fire it kindled inside him. The demigod’s words only served to stoke that
fire. It roared so explosively in him
now that he knew there was only one way off this island for him; with that
light in tow.
“What
is that light?” Tarsus thought to himself.
“What is it that drives me so?”
“You already know,” Cassius said, in
answer to the sunsword’s thoughts.
“Admit the truth to yourself, or the challenges you face here will
destroy you.”
Tarsus’s eyes grew wide. The fire inside him was too powerful to
resist. He turned quickly from Cassius
then, and started down the path. He did
not want to give the demigod another chance of looking into his eyes: of
reading his mind. He looked up at the
golden light.
“I
started this quest for Cecily,” he admonished himself as an image of his
friend penetrated his thoughts. “I can’t finish it for myself.”
His eyes were still on the
light. He could not ignore the need he
felt to be a part of it. Finally, he
tore his gaze away and focused on the path.
To his surprise, the great wood he
had spotted from the start of the path loomed high before him. He stopped instantly, standing before an
archway of oaken branches that led into the forest.
The branches stretched out far from
their mother trees; the trees themselves separated by a distance of the width
of three men standing shoulder to shoulder.
Tarsus examined those trees for a moment and was struck by their odd
shape. The trunks did not resemble the
traditional cylinders of wood he had seen in the forests bordering Briarden. Instead, they were slimmer: curving and
bending in odd places. He froze as he
realized what shape they resembled to him - bodies: human bodies.
The branches that made up the arch
now looked to Tarsus like strands of hair, or even outstretched fingers that
were reaching for something. They
extended beyond the natural limits of oaken branches and found their way, from
one tree to the other, into a central, twined union; curving and twisting
around each other as though the two trees were holding hands.
Tarsus smiled in wonder. Never had he seen oaks so lush, and an
archway so beautiful.
But he did not have time for
wonder. He had to move. Already the sun was at its zenith, and he did
not have long to get through this dense wood; through the ruined village;
through the grand cathedral; and up to the summit of the mountain.
He stepped under the arch, entering
the forest. The path was open to him,
and the way ahead looked clear. The
green buds of the bushes and blades of grass rose to greet him, and the
many-colored blooms turned to face him.
He was welcome here.
Tarsus steeled himself. Though all seemed well, he remembered
Cassius’s words. Great challenges lay
ahead. He remembered the light, and the
warmth of that yearning desire pulsed in his gut: reminding him of his great need
to overcome those challenges and reach the top.
“One
path. One way…” Tarsus
remembered. “…one destination.”
On
he went.
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