I. Andromadus: The Prodigy (Chapter Three)
Ten years later…
I trudge up the shores of Shipwreck Isles, leaving trails of droplets from my drenched armor in the sand behind me. I feel stronger these days, stronger than ever. My mind is clearer too. Diligently, I had remained hidden in my old haunt, deep in the Northern Mountains, biding my time until they called upon me. It had given me the space to think, to process what I had experienced in the past decade. The consuming darkness that had eaten at my fragile psyche had slowly ebbed away as my mind was set on menial tasks, such as survival in the harsh, unforgiving environment. I suspect they had planned this all along, after all, our deal meant that I was in no technical danger of succumbing to the wrath of nature. I could take all the time I required.
They need me. It isn’t a happy thought. But it is a thought that stabilizes the chaos. And yesterday, I had finally received what I had waited for since our last fateful meeting. A message from them.
“Meet me at Shipwreck Isles tomorrow when the sun casts the shortest shadows.”
I glance around the littered beach, feeling the rare pleasure of basking in the warm sun. The Isles would be a sun-soaked paradise if not for its forsaken inhabitants. The sea I had just traversed is the hunting ground of the demon sea serpent of the North, Lycallus, not to mention countless other creatures that lurk within its murky depths. No whisker whose fortune (or lack thereof) had led them to be stranded on these isles would have any hope of crossing to the mainland unharmed. I, on the other hand, hold the blessing of them within me, and the deep scars down the side of Lycallus would serve as a reminder of what would happen if she ever dared to attack me again.
I begin to worry if they will show up, but then the ambient temperature drops. I look wildly around, from the rapidly roughening seas to the palm trees bending beneath the quickening wind. The previously cerulean sky now has black clouds rolling across overhead and a heavy downpour slashes across the beach. I feel my heartbeat race and the tingle of anticipation send shivers through my body.
Nefexian had arrived on the Isles.
"Right on time, Andromadus."
I jump and whirl around. Standing completely at ease amidst the gathering storm is an entirely unremarkable whisker, smirking at my lapse in composure. They wear a plain purple robe, fastened at the neck with a tiny white jewel, which billows about them in the wind. I stand there, dumbstruck. I had expected to see the colossal beast I had come face to face with at the Settlement of the Dead, not this whisker who barely came up to my shoulders. They wave their hand, and the gloomy weather changes as abruptly as it did previously, and before I know it, the brilliant sun shines over the soaked beach again. I shift uncomfortably in my armor. The humidity is unbearable, but I'm determined to put up a good front despite my bewilderment.
"It's been a long time, Nefexian," I say. "That was a rather grand entrance."
"Well, what's the point of having powers if I can't use them?" Nefexian says, flexing their hands dexterously. "I, also, have been cooped up for a very long time. It is nice to come out for a stretch. I must say, you're looking better than when we last met, Andromadus."
"You gave me this life. I will never forget," I reply. "I have bided my time, as you commanded. And today, I answer your call."
"Good." Nefexian kneels and begins playing with the sand. I watch in silence as they start building a miniature castle with magic.
"How have you been?" they ask while prodding the damp sand.
"Well, I had to seek help from some isolated barbarian tribes in the mountains out of desperation in the first couple of years, but from then on I managed alone." I hesitated. "I eventually slew any who laid eyes on me."
Nefexian nods in approval and motions to an upturned lifeboat beside them.
"Sit."
I comply, trembling in anticipation. I could hardly believe I was finally going to receive information beyond the desolate solitude I was encased in for the past decade. The world swims in and out of focus as I sit awkwardly beside Nefexian.
"What am I to you?" I find myself asking before I could stop myself. There was a long pause.
"The first of your kind," says Nefexian. I wait for elaboration, but Nefexian is busy making turrets for their castle.
"What do you mean?"
"Let's leave that for later," they say suddenly. "I have more important things to discuss with you."
I clench my jaw. It is difficult to control the tidal wave of questions that threaten to burst from my mouth.
"I need a certain artifact, a certain book.” Nefexian looks straight into my eyes. “Do you know of the Atlas of Old?"
"Huh," I snort. "Naturally. But it surely does not exist? Not anymore, at least?"
Nefexian's eyes glitter. They throw back their head and let out a chilling laugh. I feel the mask melting away from the formerly unassuming whisker, and a hint of the abyssal beast I had met all those years ago at the brink of the Settlement of the Dead clawing its way through the lines on their face. I may be imagining things but their long shadow cast in the wet sand seems to shimmer and morph into peculiar shapes. It’s high noon; they shouldn’t have a long shadow at all. I shudder as words form in my mind.
The Hydra, Nefexian. The Many-Faced Shadow of The Great Pond.
“It exists.”
The voice that issues from Nefexian seems to come not from their mouth but from within. It is a deep, awful rumble that fills my head, and dark memories of that night at the Settlement of the Dead come rushing back.
“I heard the rumors and tracked them to the Western Kingdoms. They speak of a colorful café owner who collects ancient trinkets. Do you know of the Rising Café?”
“Of course,” I say, sweating. “Run by that ridiculous Sprinkles character.”
“Do not underestimate that whisker, Andromadus!” Nefexian’s voice turns high-pitched and nasal. “He was, after all, the keeper of the Atlas! Oh, how I wanted to kill him on the spot and take it!”
“Hush now, Aquilo.” Their voice changes yet again to a soft, motherly tone. “You mustn't forget we were undercover, so we watched and waited. We even ordered a pastry. He really isn’t a bad baker.”
Nefexian stops at this point and begins digging a moat around their sand castle. The darkness that had just radiated from the small whisker had all but abated. I had to take several deep breaths to control myself.
“And…?”
“Two whiskers,” Nefexian continues, their voice returning to normal. “An orange-spotted koi in a salamander robe and another of similar height. They just waltzed in and took the Atlas from Sprinkles. Actually, he handed it to them after some ridiculous talk of cards. There was something about the koi in the salamander robe that struck me. Anyway, I think you know where I’m going with this.”
Nefexian draws two names in the sand and I make a mental note.
“So you want me to locate two very plain whiskers across the whole of the Western Kingdoms? How long ago was this?” I ask.
“Only yesterday,” Nefexian replies. “They may still be in Wisteria. But wait, there is more. After the two had left the Café, I was in half a mind to track them, but Sprinkles was inundated by another customer.”
“Oh?”
“An assassin. Very bold. Demanded Sprinkles reveal the whereabouts of the Atlas. I guess it was more of a front than anything else, he wasn’t very strong.”
Nefexian’s eyes glitter again, their crystalline pools reminding me of ocean chasms.
“Once the assassin left, I followed him. He was quick, I’ll give him that, but picked up too late that he was being followed. Those who are marked by the Hydra never make it through the day. I made him talk. He said quite a curious thing before his untimely passing.”
“What was it?”
“That he was sent by the banished one, Andromadus.”
“But that is impossible,” I say, stumbling backwards.
“Indeed, I know that it is. But that is besides the point. Listen, I believe the assassin was sent by someone with very close ties to Wisteria.”
“The royal family? But how do you know?”
Nefexian deepens the moat around the sand castle.
“The robes of the assassin were of heavy cotton, double woven. In this era, clothes like that only come out of the Western Kingdoms. Also, when he first noticed my approach, he adopted a battle stance known only by the elite soldiers of Wisteria. I’m quite familiar with it.”
I gape at them, my mind running wild.
“Now you understand, Andromadus. Wisterian’s spy network is perhaps even more comprehensive than my own. They know you are alive. And they know about the Atlas of Old and its importance, and someone within the family wants it for themselves. The two traveling kois seemed to be heading towards the headquarters of the Adventurer's Guild in Windrose City. This Wisterian rat had sent that assassin hoping to quickly take the Atlas, and used the common knowledge of your banishing as a cover in case they were caught. Owing to your past, my guess is that they fear your return. That is, in case you might have anything to do with the dark rumors now spreading to all corners of the Pond.”
“Things are more dire than I imagined,” I say, more to myself than Nefexian. “But how am I to track these travelers and retake the Atlas? It seems I’m the most wanted whisker in all of The Great Pond. Why can’t you do it, with all your power?”
“I don’t yet wish to be known, under any circumstance. The denizens of the Pond consider me nothing more than a myth at best and I intend to keep it that way. Remember our deal, Andromadus.”
I purse my lips.
“I am not sending you unaided, Andromadus.”
Nefexian finally turns away from their sand creation, which looks remarkably like the Wisterian Castle, and places a small hand on my breastplate. For a moment, there is silence. Not even a chirp of a bird or the crash of a wave could be heard. Then a deep hum issues from somewhere around my navel. My eyes cloud over, and in the red-tinged darkness I see shapes, forms, and colors, dancing and whirling. It ends with a gentle warmth in my chest. I look down, expecting some sort of change, but nothing seems to be amiss.
“What have you done to me?”
“Consider yourself lucky.”
“Excuse me?”
“My ability, Andromadus. I have bestowed you a fragment of my sorcery. Only once, you may shapeshift into whomever, or whatever, you deem fit. I cannot give you more or even you will break. Our deal means that you and I are more closely tied than you know. Use this gift wisely, it may be your only chance to approach those travelers and retrieve the Atlas. Remember the plan. Bring it straight back to me. My time will come!"
In one furious movement, Nefexian stomps on the sand castle they had meticulously crafted over the course of our conversation. Then they whirl their purple robes and transform into a silverwind wyrm. The blue of the cloudless sky looks refracted through their slim semi-transparent body, and the tufts of white fur down their back seem to meld with the air around it.
“We will not meet again for some time,” they say, taking to the air with a silent flap of their ghostly wings. “You know, there are still whiskers on these Isles that may have caught sight of us?”
“Yes.”
“Though I doubt they will ever come in contact with the mainland, it pays to be cautious. You know what to do.”
Yes, I know what to do. For the greater good.