The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 882

Chapter 882: Marinda; ‘what is it, why is it, who is it?’

Blurred vision, dark and red, heaviness of a hard impact. The slow-burning of rubber, metal, and fabric, what once conquered the skies majestically crashed. ‘Alive,’ gasped the heavily wounded Yui, she clawed from the wreckage – smoke filled the air, the wind hurled, the clouds shrieked and Marinda grumbled. By sheer effort and lung filled by the thickening mist, she muddled, stumbled upon a crack in the fuselage, paid no heed, and dropped. Her head fell upon damp grass, foliage blocked vision to the skies, ‘-my arm’s broken,’ she cringed, ‘-don’t seem that I’ve suffered much,’ a relieve breath escape. ‘-crew,’ she ran to the front, the cockpit was impaled by heavier branches, the unfortunate pilot sat listlessly. Shatter glass smeared in droplets of crimson, he hung his head as if asleep, the uniform stained in a slow draining red. ‘-Fuel,’ she sniffed and coughed loudly, a fit which brought her to her knees, the stomach clenched and lungs sought for clear respace, ‘-the mana’s going to kindle the fire...’ hands on the damp weed, ‘-move,’ she said to herself and stood. Posture swayed in preference to the right, she subconsciously limped, “-hey,” exited the badly chipped lips, “-are you okay?” she asked, the amber sparked plenty. *Thud,* the ringing subsided into a loud boom, she carried, followed the wreck’s perimeter, and arrived at the opposing end. Part of the heavy shell toppled, exposing the innards – smoke puffed and merged into the greater burning flame.

“Lady Yui,” coughed, “-here,” beautifully tanned arms rose above a seat, it latched and clambered, “-here,” half-burnt visage returned, “-a briefcase,” remainder of the strength flee, before she passed, the valise flung outside. She toppled shortly after a tree carved and flattened half of the plane, no support meant an effortless slice. The shock forced Yui onto her bottom, ‘-she’s dead,’ the half-working interface blinked, the lifeforce of the crewmates darkened, ‘-my leg,’ she gasped at the bigger picture – a piece of metal had lodged into the side of her thigh. The jet blinked red, “-evacuate the area, automated destruction initialization,” said an amorous voice, beeps resounded.

‘Shit,’ fear washed her face, ‘-I need to move, now!’ she glanced backward, spotted a broken log, threw her wrist around one of the branches, and pulled, the beeps shorten in gap. Most of the strength exhausted, regardless, she turned on the injured thigh and pulled, the pain tore into her muscle, ‘-FUCK!’ the final blink sparked, the remainder of the jet sucked into a vortex and imploded, a semi-transparent circle marked where the implosion pulled, the arc barely missed her foot. ‘-All to keep military secrets,’ she gasped and turned to her left, the ground marred crimson in the struggled to escape the destruction.

‘Interface’s dead,’ she gasped against a tree, ‘-the bleeding’s stopped,’ she glanced right, away from the gruesome mixture of red, ‘-case,’ she gripped and pulled, it opened and held supplies, emergency contact devices, and weapons. More importantly, portions and scrolls, she pulled the cork off one flask, it opened with a pop, then doused the wound. She continued and downed more – her strength returned, the wounds healed albeit slowly, ‘-enough mana,’ she pulled a scroll, a loud flash of green exploded across the jungle. The wounds healed, ‘-I feel better,’ she clambered against the tree and stood, ‘-pistols with mana-bullets, should work,’ she reached for the last flask, pulled the cork, and swallowed essence of mana. Both guns strapped on her leg, a tap on the case turned it into a big backpack.

“In remembrance to Joh and Antio,” a rock stood vaguely at the center, “-I apologize for not hosting a better burial. I’m sure you will be fine in the afterlife,” she smiled, “-may peace and comfort smother thee.”

A look about showed naught, “-if one is ever lost in the vastness of the forest, look to the sky,” she stared, ‘-no way,’ she paused, ‘-the sky’s muddled.’ The pages flipped, “-if the sky is covered, look for the sound of running water,” a couple of hours past, she stumbled upon a stream, “-on reaching the river, walk with the current, it should carry to the sea, once there, look to the left, the Cliff of Atn will stand proudly. Cross the latter by taking the path around the beach, best to wait for low tides. If tis night, you’ll have to camp.”

‘Great,’ she sighed, ‘-dusk... good thing I have this book.’ Another couple of hours carried – darkness fell heavily. If not for the moon, there’d be no light nor sense of direction. ‘-We crashed close by,’ she stopped and glanced at the reflection on the waves, ‘-can’t see anymore.’

.....

“Keep high,” suddenly leaped into thought, “-By mistake, if you’re on the ground at night, oh, there will be hell to pay. I hope thee wield a better weapon than swords.”

Motion in the bushes heightened her focus, pairs of different colored hues rushed, she pulled on both pistols and fired, a distant yelp followed, ‘-got one.’ The cry altered many around, masses trampled from all direction, ‘-run for the trees,’ cried her instinct, she held her breath and sprinted – pistol is drawn, she fired and cleared a path.

The night came to a slow end, sun rose from the east – Yui’s sleep broke per her stomach’s plea for food. One foot dangled, the other laid on the makeshift bed, of which was a tree’s rather large arms. ‘-tide’s low,’ she dropped on the damp ground, passed the bodies of her assailants, humanoid figures of wolves and other animals, monsters, rather, demon, ‘-my attackers,’ she smiled, ‘-too bad thee faces Yui from the Haggard’s. Throw what you want at me,’ she faced the broadening sky, “-I’ll win, and I’ll find my master, there’s no mistake.’

What she thought to have been a week-long search turned into months and eventually, another year passed, the date write as the 29th of March X114. Yui perched upon Atn’s cliff, her gaze fixed over the seas, at the horizon, ‘-how long has it been,’ she sat and breathed. In the long months of adapting and learning the region, she came across the olden-made settlements. The paths were very much intact, untouched, and undecayed by the flow of time. For some reason, what lived on the island never aged. She cupped a fragment of a mirror, ‘-I look the same to when I arrived. Didn’t lose weight or gain muscle. My hair could take more hygiene,’ her lashes blinked at the sea, ‘-I met the people living after the mountain. The village leader’s a young chief, he allowed me into their circle, “-you’re different, the lady who came on the flying airship. The people of my village and the other villages kindly welcome you onto Marinda.”

‘Still have no idea why they’d allow a stranger. Made trades, got better clothes to fight the poisonous rain – weren’t that common. The monsters too, I rare crossed their paths – the pistols must have scared them for good,’ one leg off the cliff, ‘-where are you, master, I’ve been here for so long. I asked them to carry the word, if you’re out there, stop hiding already.’

Start at the beach, move into the jungle, cross the dangerous thicket, arrive at the alps, climb the traitorous heights and move into the middle region, here, the scale extends to months of travel by foot, no horse nor means of transport – brave the ever-changing nature of Marinda, face enemies of increasing strength until the center where rises a massive volcano from which spews orange and red. Gathered at its foot are towns, buildings made of better material, stone and the likes, better paths, and better lives, a place reserved for the infamous Celestials, the patriarchs who live and fly across Marinda on the floating isle. On their mercy, only then will the trip be assured; if not, forget going northwest, you’re dead. A trip made impossible arrives the virtuously massive capital-city of Nordway – a place of leisure and military prowess, a castle embedded in ice and frost, the pride of the Celestials – Einheim. Gods and demi-gods walk the halls, demon gods and demi-gods treads the same shared passageway. Marinda, what is it, why is it, who is it, multiple questions and no answers? At the peak of the tallest tower of the castle where the ultimate truth of hierarchy exists, sits a foreigner, a stranger who without a moment’s notice, landed on the island.

The tale of Marinda starts centuries ago, at a time of strife and uneasiness. Celestials, rulers of the land, grew impatient with the resident’s progress. Harbingers of knowledge were scattered to the many tribes, some allowed the strangers, others killed and a few ignored. Those whomst embraced the knowledge attained weapons and moved into an age where magic, the power of the celestials, was bestowed upon their newborns. The lucky born to strong blessings of the elemental gods were taken from their parents and carried to the capital of Nordway. There a life of luxury awaited them; such the story spread amongst the people. In reality, the stronger one is, the more suffering awaits. Impatient demi-gods sought power, and what better way to harvests than to pick the fruit before tis ripe. The self-governed society had no leader nor enforcer, they did as they pleased and were chastised or praised accordingly. Factions formed and soon – laws of in-fighting disallowed interactions – thus, pointing the celestials outward at the residents of Marinda. They did as pleased, experiments, build instruments of destruction, easily skipped from the overworld, into heaven, the domain of Zeus, or the Aapith nation. There laid but one obstacle which disallowed the celestials from leaving, and tis – Cthulhu, the might of the sea deity was ravenous, and under its tentacles were the heads of foolish gods whomst tried to fight the indestructible. Norms formed and the celestials learned to keep to themselves and build a city for their own pleasures. What’s Marinda’s purpose? Many asked often, and the simple answer, “-a place of strength building,” for you see – the celestials weren’t born gods or demons, they were offsprings of true gods who visited the world long ago. Factions formed families – and relatives of associate gods formed their own community, some lived in peace, others, weaker and tainted bloodlines, sent to the mining towns surrounding the volcano, a burning pillar of pure magical essence. Knowledge of the gods shared collective homes – and the result, a dystopian society, Celestials at the top and the Natives at the bottom.

Travelers stumbled upon Marinda since the dawn of sea travel. Most died, many lived to tell the tale of a land of mystic and godhood – by the grace of the guardians, they picked and chose who left and who didn’t. Aidn of the Western Wind was part of the fortunate travelers, his advances and fight for survival had a positive effect on the guardians. Thus, he was allowed to live and tell the tale of the land of Marinda. Time passes to a couple of years ago, a mysterious man lands on the island with a beautiful maiden in his arms.

Villages shudder at the thought of a stranger. They stepped, refused to talk, however, the man’s charm and allure brought curiosity of the innocent – the children snuck out of their homes and ran for the fields, to a little grotto he called home. There, they learned much about how to use their talents in summoning wind, fire, water, earth, and iron. Weeks passed, the cautious villages, amplified by reports from the guardians – carried to Nordway, there, the bloodline of Sen, God of Wildlife, volunteered to eradicate the pest who taught the natives how to use the granted elements.

‘Marinda,’ exhaled the young fellow waking from a very modern bed, innards of the grotto build into a comfy area, ‘-a good place to be,’ he rose and moved to a coffin filled with ice, “-Loftha, dear Loftha,” he watched, “-I don’t know what to do,” he chuckled, “-guess you don’t know either,” he stepped out of the living area, a house built in the depths of the cave, passed naturally growing mushrooms and headed to the vibrant outside.

“Teacher,” exclaimed a little boy bearing features of a bunny, “-what are you going to teach today?”

“Hello,” he smiled, “-I don’t know,” he held his palm, elemental spirits darted, “-how about talking with the spirits?”

“Fairies?” panted another, she’d run from the house and held stains from jam.

“Yes, fairies,” he smiled, “-the forest guardians.”