The Sacrifice (The War of the Gods Book 1) Read online

  What or who had possessed the sheep? With what aim? Who or what wished to hurl him into utter darkness? If someone wanted to murder him, he had almost accomplished his mission. He wept. Someone wanted him dead. Could it be the shadow? That, now, was the least of it. The only thing that mattered was that he was alive and that he had to choose a way forward: to keep going or die. He did not hesitate.

  He remembered his grandmother, remembered Luchy… where were they now? Perhaps they were a long way away, without help, without warmth. A tear ran down his cheek, two, three. He burst into tears. The boy remained lying there, with nothing else to do but feel sorry for himself. He sniffed, and the echo returned a blast of sound that reminded him he must keep silent. But his clumsiness was not in vain. Thanks to the noise he imagined a map of the place. There seemed to be a series of tunnels around. Tunnels… Eromes’ red book came into his mind, with its mention of several dark tunnels. If I’m blind, I’ll never ever see another sunrise, he said to himself, wanting to burst into tears again.

  Sunrises were his energy, his spiritual feed. And what if, on top of being blind, he had been left alone in the world? Without his family, without his friends, without his pets, there would be no difference between him and a worm. He wiped away his tears and decided to control himself, weeping could dehydrate him. And come to that, where had Mowriz gone? Manchego had never imagined he would end up wanting his former enemy beside him.

  He had to move, and fast. The injuries might threaten his health, he might contract an infection. He gathered together strength from hope, from the will to survive, and got to his feet. The pain was intense, but the harsh training of the last months worked in his favor. He breathed in deeply, proud of having got himself under control, determined to find safety, and started walking. Where to go? Anywhere. The important thing was to move on.

  Chapter XIX – Blossoming

  He walked very slowly, dragging his right leg. His head was spinning. Sometimes the wound opened and a thread of blood ran down his temple. Simple things like not tripping and falling, or taking care of his posture so as to save his strength, took on an extraordinary importance. His chest shrank as if a claw was trying to tear out his heart. He coughed. Something thick and tasteless came up, neither blood or snot. Thanks to the cough he was able to gain some idea of where he was.

  The ceiling was very high, everything around him was rock. To the left he touched a wall. He went on along it, clinging close to it to guide himself and steady his steps. After a while he felt tired and lay down on the cold, hard floor. His exhaustion was so extreme that he fell asleep at once. When he woke up he went on. It seemed this was never going to end.

  He slept again, woke up again. Once more on the move. Manchego had already lost all sense of direction, time or space. He had no idea what had happened, why he was there, or how to get out, but something he did know: without water, without food, without love, his life was slipping away from him.

  ***

  His boots sank into mud. He tripped and fell on his face in a puddle of water. It was freezing! Water!

  With enormous delight the boy began to drink without restraint, regardless of the acrid mineral flavor. It was cool. He went on a little more, perhaps he would find a larger expanse of water where he could bathe his wounds. Overcome by excitement, it was late by the time he realized he had reached an edge. He slipped.

  He fell several feet, panic-stricken, until his body crashed into a great body of water. He sank, further and further down. He concentrated on not losing his calm, not breathing, not swallowing water, taking control of his body and moving his feet, like fins, towards the surface. When he emerged he touched a wall and grasped at a crack.

  He was treading water. He prayed there would be no hungry animals beneath his feet. He swam on, keeping close to the wall. He had to find the shore, dry land. His boots trod on a surface and he began to walk. He arrived somewhere with different features. He noticed it in the rock and the floor, which was soft, like mud. His footsteps did not produce the same deep echoes; Manchego deduced that there were fewer passages. He coughed. This time he brought up a gelatinous and ill-smelling substance.

  Overcome by exhaustion, by darkness and by not knowing, the boy lay down on the ground. He fell asleep immediately.

  ***

  Something was calling him by name. The sound was distant, vague, but it did not stop. Yes, it was his name, over and over and over again…

  The wheat-field swayed in the breeze and opened in golden fans, radiant in the twilight. The horizon was a watercolor in crimson and brown, sky-blue and orange, clouds and sun. You reap what you sow, he thought as he tilled the fields. Those who sow tears, reap joys. Though they may weep as they load the sacks, they’ll come back singing with joy, bundles of wheat in their arms. We must sow.

  The afternoon was darkening into dusk. He gazed at the sky, the stars twinkled. Something happened to the stars, they were moving, becoming brighter, it seemed the world was spinning at a terrible speed. Not far away, stars began to rain down on the fields! As they touched the ground, they raised silver sparks.

  He broke into a run, with an expectant smile on his face and his hands open. Would he manage to catch a star before it fell?

  Ah! Here it comes!

  Swisssssss!

  He raced as fast as he could towards a strip of light which left a yellow wake behind it and was traveling at an impossible speed. With his hands cupped, he managed to grasp it before it collided with the ground.

  He rolled on the grass, taking care not to lose his precious possession. He got to his knees, both astonished and awed. The star was in his hands! The light was so powerful he could not stop admiring it; at the same time, that brightness did not hurt him. The light began to rise from his hand as if it had a life of its own.

  Those who sow with tears

  the seeds which in black fire lie,

  through blackened sunset creeping

  on the alum, the darkening sky;

  a sea with darkness weeping

  summons Thórlimás from the land.

  From the land of Tutonticám,

  lost, lovely, remote Teitú,

  there walks firmly over the veil

  over ships of white bamboo,

  which on a purple sky sail,

  a warrior of the Naevas Aedán.

  Times spent in Chaos will pass by him

  over the war of a sadness

  between its mighty supports,

  where his dwelling shone in gladness

  days passed in a peace of sorts,

  a place that remains destroyed.

  The old Lyric of the Wind sings that he

  who bears the sack of seed with care,

  heavy and somber, bent double,

  will soon shine with joy so fair,

  his night disappear from the rubble

  and his discontent never return.

  “Don’t underestimate a Teitú nut,” the witch had told him with something mysterious in her voice. “It’s a magical nut, an indispensable totem. When you need it, bury the Teitú nut a foot underground, water it three times a day and lie on top of it to give it your warmth for five consecutive nights.”

  He woke up. He was breathing fast, he felt his lungs were about to collapse. The Teitú nut! He still had it in his hand, all this time he had been squeezing it. Hesitating over whether he should part with it or not, he dug in the mud, buried the totem and covered it. He lay down on top, face up, resolved to wait.

  He dreamt of something delightful, for a change. He was walking on the clouds, white and soft. Something came up from the ground, from the exact spot where he had buried the nut, like a volcano which spewed earth instead of lava. He woke up. Impressed by the dream and moved by what awaited him, he closed his eyes once again.

  Absolute peace enveloped his heart, a supernatural force raised his spirits. Could it be the nut germinating beneath him? Time went by. The volcano had grown. Awed, he
touched it and felt that a plant had sprouted. How wonderful!

  He tried to sink back into the dream, but was unable to. His excitement would not allow him to relax and sleep. He was anxious to learn the result of the spell. He coughed and knew his health had deteriorated. Without food and without treatment by a competent healer, he might be at the doors of death. This thought darkened his enthusiasm for the nut and the plant, he became dizzy and lost consciousness.

  He opened his eyes. He sensed life, that something or someone was keeping him company. After so much loneliness, he gave thanks to the heavens. He touched the plant. It was a foot tall, and some leaves had opened on it together with a bud which would soon turn into a flower.

  “My name is Manchego,” he said excitedly. Perhaps he was losing his wits, he was still terrified of speaking in the shadow, but communicating, strengthening the illusion that he was engaged in a dialogue with someone, even if it was only a plant, made him feel good.

  He told it he was an orphan and the tragic story of how Eromes had sacrificed his life for him. He grew sad.

  In the boy’s mind the plant began to develop a personality, something unusual, but the most incredible thing was that the plant understood why Manchego loved sunsets, particularly those dramatic sunsets when the clouds bled around the edges and poured their essence on the horizon, like tea in water.

  Often he had tried to explain this to Grandmother and Luchy. No-one had understood what he meant. The plant concluded that Manchego was in love with Luciella. Well, of course! But it also knew that he was very sleepy and that because of his serious injuries he needed to rest. The boy did not doubt that the plant’s advice was excellent, and with his soul now restored in spirit, he readied himself for sleep, and to recover from the blows.

  Chapter XX – A Sun in the shadow

  He woke up. Everything was dark. He felt something around him and turned his head to find out what it was, but it was no use, so intense was the blackness. He coughed a couple of times, bringing up that unpleasant substance again.

  This time his ribs did not hurt. He concentrated on the presence which was keeping company with him. He touched the plant. The stem was incredibly long! It had grown in thickness too, it now felt like the trunk of a small tree. It had long sharp thorns. He got to his feet and touched the trunk carefully, so as not to prick his fingers on the thorns. It had at least ten branches, with bushy foliage. The shy bud had been transformed into a perfect, swelling sphere, its surface smooth and slippery, like that of a fish or a frog’s egg.

  Two tiny membranes, like the wings of a butterfly, were clearly visible. While Manchego racked his brains trying to imagine the plant and its purpose, there came a spark. The bundle exploded and from it emerged a powerful fan of rosy lights which went straight for his head. Here they passed inside and took up a space in his mind. His eyes, which by now had grown unused to the light, suffered and he felt a buzz of pain in them. He was not blind! He was overcome by the fear of meeting a ghost, but the presence which radiated light assured him – without words - that all was well.

  Little by little he began to notice details around him. The earth was black and moist, and kept the mark of his footsteps. The walls, of very dark rock, were stained by centuries of falling water. From the ground rose stalagmites, like alien structures. From the ceiling hung stalactites like the fangs of some terrible beast. He saw his body through his clothes, which were now in tatters. His legs were dirty with mud and blood. The right one was swollen and purple at the thigh and heel. His torn boot left his foot visible, badly injured and skinned.

  But what most impressed him was his right arm, which had lost its regular shape and now looked like a branch broken at different points. Manchego focused on the bright light of the sphere, which was beating its wings before his face. He felt he was spellbound by something divine.

  The sphere stopped at the level of his eyes. It no longer hurt to look at that dazzling light, radiant as the sun. Ideas and images began to course through his mind. In that wordless communication, the boy guessed that inside that globe there was a depth only accessible to a privileged few. He simply looked and thought. He felt a new current of ideas. He could not believe it. Another flow of thoughts made him pause, and from there a conclusion emerged: the sphere was transmitting its own thoughts to him.

  Chapter XXI – Embracing the sun

  Manchego and the sphere communicated fluently, sharing ideas and thoughts. The boy suddenly felt hungry. He knew this had been prompted by the sphere, which offered him nothing less than the plant it had been born from.

  He took a leaf, put it in his mouth and chewed warily. At first he noticed only a grassy taste, but then the juices of the leaf entered his bloodstream. He felt a surge of energy which raised his spirits. Wolfishly he stuffed all the leaves he could in his mouth and chewed avidly. Very soon he had eaten all the foliage.

  He closed his eyes. The pains in his body began to recede, strength came back to his muscles, he felt full of energy and vitality, his mind seemed to be thinking more quickly. And it was all thanks to the Teitú nut.

  Seriously, am I helping you? In my opinion you’re the one who’s helping me.

  What was that? the boy thought.

  I don’t know, perhaps many things.

  “Who said that?” he asked aloud.

  Me.

  “Who?”

  Me!

  “But who’s “me”? I don’t know who you are!”

  It’s me! I’m right here, in front of your face!

  Manchego saw the light floating before his eyes.

  “Who are you?”

  I’m me, replied the foreign thought. The reply did not satisfy Manchego.

  “What’s your name?”

  What’s a name? Do we have to have one?

  Manchego had never wondered about this before. “It’s so that other people have something to call you.”

  I don’t know who would need to call me. Did you have a name when you were born?

  “No. The moment when I was born I didn’t.” The boy put a finger to his lips, pondering.

  Who gave you your name?

  “My grandmother, I guess…”

  Then does that mean you’re my grandmother? What’s a grandmother?

  “Oh, for the gods’sake! You’re showing up my ignorance, now I don’t even know why my grandmother gave me the name of a cheese. I guess I’m responsible for your birth, but I’m not your grandmother… How about calling you Teitú?

  Am I Teitú? Right. I like it! Teitú and Manchego… Hello, Manchego!

  “How do you know my name?”

  I’ve known it for quite a while.

  The boy realized he had had the nut for several months, and now that it had shown itself to be so magical, he was not surprised that in its primitive form it would already hold so much wisdom, so many mysteries. Had Ramancia transferred them to it? Why had the witch given him an object that would end up saving him from the shadow?

  Manchego studied the sphere. There were no eyes or mouth; just light.

  “How come you can speak my language?”

  I don’t speak your language. I communicate with you through thoughts, you put them into words. It’s a useless conversation, because you can understand everything I think without any need to make a system out of it. But we’ve only just met, it’s too soon. One day you won’t do that any longer.

  Manchego felt overwhelmed by so much wisdom. Could an ancient soul be dwelling within that light? “All right, but… who are you?”

  I’m Teitú!

  “I don’t mean the name, I want to know who you are.”

  And what about you… who are you?

  .“I’m Manchego.”

  I don’t mean the name, I want to know who you are.

  “Um… I don’t know. Well, I mean … I’m a lot of things, for instance I’m a shepherd.”

  That is “what” you are, or what you do, not “who” you are.<
br />
  Manchego felt he was trapped in his own question. Answering “who” you are is not easy to do. “What are you?”

  I don’t know. I am. What are you?

  “I’m human.”

  I don’t know what I am. I just am!

  “Fine. That’s enough for now… Now what?”

  Manchego did not know what to do with Teitú. Was it just a light to illuminate his way? Was it nothing more than a fruit of the plant he had fed on? Or did it have a more important purpose? How could he find out?

  I don’t know. I don’t know what my purpose is. The only thing that’s clear is that we’re both trapped in the shadow, we both want to get out of it, and we have to do that as soon as possible. There’s a very evil presence lurking here.

  “Let’s be friends!”

  I like that idea!

  “I ended up in this place for some reason I still don’t understand. If you like, I can tell you later.”

  No, don’t tell me. You don’t need to. I can see.

  “So what do you see?”

  Everything that goes through your mind. Like the fact that you saw Ounces possessed by an evil spirit.

  “You see inside my mind? How?” Manchego felt intimidated.

  I don’t know. I just can.

  “And why can’t I do the same thing?”

  I don’t know. I don’t understand all your questions.

  “How about setting off? I’m concerned about my grandmother and Luchy and I have to get out of here as soon as possible. Shall we look for the exit together?”

  Sure! Quite honestly, I can’t think of anything else to do. I don’t want to stay here. I want to help you get out of here and get together with your family again. And for you to become the best rancher of the Empire.