The Tale of Daemonica

Drowning

   Khushan was an ancient port, a link between the free cities of Xix and the Kingdom of Raia. But its true age was unknown to anyone, it was certainly not known to anyone outside Xix. Given its relative proximity to the Pirate Islands, the city was rich in, among other things, the slave trade, and with four pirate leaders (each ruling one island), it maintained a lively business, no matter who was currently the leader. It didn't matter. The leaders took turns, their lifespan relatively short because of the dangers of their livelihood, but the flow of goods and money could never be jeopardized.

Khushan was a very populous city on the northern edge of the Xix Wasteland, with most of the goods passing through it, either north or south. From here came all the important routes that enabled the supply of every city of the Wasteland, which could not be supplied by sea.

It is necessary to understand the extent of the wealth it gained in a context all the more significant because the lives of the people of the entire western part of the continent depended on the functioning of the Khushan-Andala sea route, whose safety for a change depended on the level of bribes paid to the four leaders of the Pirate Islands.

The city itself lay on a sandy plain stretching for miles in all directions. Only the oldest part of the city was situated on a small hill, so that its golden roofs could be seen from a great distance, and it was surrounded by massive walls. It was impossible to enter it without special permission. But it was even difficult to know where to get such a permit. The coast was lined with tall shooting towers that perfectly covered access from the sea, not to mention the fleet Khushan had at its disposal. Beyond the walls of the old part, the real city itself lay wide. But its inhabitants weren't so consistent in defending the city from the land. The city was only protected by a wall not nearly as massive as the one at its ancient center, however carefully maintained. Beyond this wall, ordinary people lived in well-kept stone or clay houses. Khushan had no poor or beggars.

The city had three ports. Ships seldom came to the first one inside the old part of town. The northern port (though in fact located south of Old Kushan) was used for the exchange of goods. The southern harbor beyond the city walls was then used to transport slaves, who were not allowed to enter the second circle of the city unless they were the property of one of its inhabitants. That was all Daemonica could remember about Kushan. So, like all the other slave caravans, her group headed for the South Harbor.

It was absolutely impossible for Daemonica to keep her gaze forward. With wide-opened eyes she devoured a world that was both utterly alien and at the same time so familiar, full of life after all the days she had spent on the road. All things considered, she herself came from the second most important port in the west. More and more often, she was not paying attention and tripped. What saved her was that they reached the harbor fairly quickly down a wide cobbled street. The locals ignored them; they were nothing out of the ordinary to them.

There were large single-story houses in the harbor, where sailors and all the port staff could be accommodated. As well as the slaves before they set out on their harrowing journey by sea or vice versa towards Xix. But for these purposes, Kushan used (of course at an appropriate price) the Pirate Islands as well. There were therefore only two options in which direction they would sail, since slavery was forbidden in Raia. Either by the coast to the south or to the Pirate Islands, because no one went further out to sea. Neither Raia nor Xix.

Her thoughts were jolted by the fact that her face hit the broad back of the wretch in front of her as the whole expedition came to a sudden halt. One of the guards, already on his way to her, did not miss it. Fortunately for Daemonica, he was intercepted in time by a black man, her benefactor, who sent him to the front of the line. He himself went to Daemonica, ordered her untied from the rope, and sent her with two men to the building next to which they stood. There she was again locked in a small cell, where she remained alone. Everything went exactly as it had the night before.

In the dark, the guards came for her and led her through the harbor to the ship, where a black man and another man were already waiting for them. Daemonica saw the black man give something to the stranger, then he motioned for his soldiers and Daemonica to approach. He said something to her guards, and they led her toward the bridge to the ship. Without a word, the black man turned and walked away. Soldiers took her onto the sleeping ship, then to its lower deck filled with barrels of goods and crates of various sizes. They locked her in a tiny cubicle with a bucket of water, where she had to share her place with another barrels. They left her hands tied and no one cared about her anymore.

She knew, quite clearly, that she should be eternally grateful to Indie and the black man. Without their beneficence, she would have fared badly no matter what awaited her at the end of her journey. Daemonica lost track of time in her cubicle. She couldn't tell how long it had taken for the ship to be loaded and for them to set sail. The constant rocking, creaking, and rumbling was becoming extremely unpleasant. She was having trouble breathing in the unventilated lower deck. Soon, her stomach began to turn. Not long after, she realized her body was on fire. The water from the bucket was long gone, and now she was using it for entirely different purposes. Her condition began to alternate between frightening nightmares and feverish raving.

She once awoke, and it seemed to her that the ship was swinging much more. She made her rather numb mind cooperate at least a little. The moment she heard the rumble of falling barrels and crates outside the cubicle door, and the frantic screams of the other prisoners, she realized that the ship was not rocking, but thrashing. She tried at all costs to stay conscious and figure out what to do. After a while, she finally remembered the dagger Indie gave her. The increasingly tested ship rocked wildly from side to side, some crates and barrels moving freely around the cubicle and landing more than once on top of her, while she was trying to find the dagger with her hands still handcuffed. After much effort, she finally gripped it between her thighs and began to cut the rope. The dagger fell many times and she also cut herself several times, but now she was finally almost done.

At that moment there was a deafening crash, and just after that Daemonica heard water pouring into the ship. Undoubtedly, the ship struck the cliff, and the aftershock knocked the dagger out of her hands. It got lost somewhere between the barrels.

Daemonica cursed, well aware that her life was at stake. With her hands still bound by the loose rope, she tried to break down the cubicle door.

The ship was swept away again, the remaining barrels falling directly onto her and burying her beneath them. As she struggled desperately to dig herself out from under the barrels, only a short distance from her head, the rock suddenly appeared and disappeared again. Instead, a water began to flow into her cubicle. She fought in vain with the rope on her hands. The cubicle was filling with salt water, but fortunately for the Daemonica, the barrels that held her beneath them began to swim. Daemonica took a breath and plunged under the water, trying to feel for the lost dagger. After two more breaths in the ever-decreasing air bubble, she succeeded. Underwater, she immediately cut the rest of the rope and released her hands.

Suddenly the ship shook again, and she was thrown back against the cubicle door. The impact knocked the dagger out of her hand again. Daemonica didn't hesitate, and her feet bounced off the door, which, quite incomprehensibly, gave way and opened. She no longer cared. She headed toward the hole in the side of the ship that had been pierced by rock. She squeezed through it, her feet bouncing off the poor ship's side again to meet a hint of light high above her head. That's when she realized there was no air left in her lungs.

Her gaze darkened.

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It was all dark around her. She felt she wanted to do something a little while ago. The sound of the sea, or perhaps the whisper of many voices (she was not sure which was it) pressed into her ears. She tried to concentrate, feeling deep inside that she didn't have much time. She looked around sharply, trying to find a key to unlock the door to her freedom. As she surveyed her surroundings, her eyes turned upward. High overhead, she saw a flash of light, and then another. It was as if you were watching the sunlight underwater as it floated on the waves.

Now she knew that the only way out of this place was upward. The whispering and rustling in her ears continued, making it difficult for her to think. Maybe there are stairs hidden somewhere around.

A golden twinkle of light flashed before her eyes and disappeared into the darkness again. The voices fell silent. She stared into the darkness ahead for a moment, then took a step forward. A golden puff of light appeared beneath her foot. Daemonica stepped on it carefully. Her foot sank into a golden haze, but she felt solid ground beneath it. A moment later other strange "stairs" appeared in front of her, and Daemonica began to climb them. She did so with great care, for her hands found nothing to support her. More than once, subconsciously, she reached into the darkness, trying to find anything to lean or catch on, but her hands were always reaching into the void. Several times she almost lost her balance and tumbled. When she risked looking down, she couldn’t see the stairs anymore. The only possible way was up. Daemonica was treading carefully, while the light above her grew more intense.

As she climbed higher and higher, she saw in the bright light something like an opening from which the light came. After a few more steps she reached it. It looked like some kind of entrance. With the opening just above her head, she stretched out for it. The tips of her fingers touched the cold stone and stirred the golden dust that covered it. Gratefully she gripped the edge of the hole with her hand, but still she stepped carefully. She was already sick of those odd floating stairs. She braced herself against her hands and pulled herself up. With an infinite relief, she stood on solid ground again. She stamped her foot lightly, stirring more gold dust, but the floor was indeed durable.

Only then did she look around. At first she was dazzled by the bright sunlight. When her eyes adjusted, she saw that she was in a sort of circular room. Its wall was divided by many glassless windows dispensed by richly decorated columns, coated in lush plants with blossoms of all possible colors. The windows were arched at the top and at the bottom they were replaced at about waist level by a perimeter wall. She seemed to be standing on top of a tower. Outside the windows, the waves of the sea and the cries of birds could be heard. But nothing else.

At one of the windows was an ornate stone table with Sorcerer standing beside it. His black hair was in several thin braids, laced with gold thread, pulled down at the back of his head. His robe was golden-green and reflected sunlight much like the water would. At first Sorcerer had his back to her, but as he turned in her direction, something flashed in his hand for a moment. But it quickly disappeared into the folds of his robe.

Sorcerer's dark gaze rested on her. Outside the windows, the sun continued to rise, and the cries of the birds greeted the new day. A light breeze carried the scent of the sea, and the peaceful rustle of its waves sounded in her ears.

Sorcerer motioned for her to come closer. Reluctantly, she walked toward him. She could see the gold dust clinging to her hands, as it was drifting silently to the ground in the bright morning sun. Patiently, forever.

Daemonica was treading cautiously, as if any misstep could plunge her back into the void beneath her.

But when she reached him, she didn’t dare to look at him. His unearthly beauty blinded her, clouded her mind, washed away any memories of real life. It was eternal, cold and dangerous. Daemonica turned away. There was a golden dawn outside the windows, but its rays did not warm her.

Sorcerer's fingers touched her chin. She didn't feel them, she just knew they were there. He gently made her turn back to him. When their eyes met, Sorcerer said in his melodic voice:

'Don't be alarmed now, I have to kiss you.' Daemonica flinched, but Sorcerer ran his thumb over the scar under her right eye she hadn't even noticed she’d taken. Again she felt nothing at all, only that he had done it.

'You're drowning,' Sorcerer said softly, joining his lips with hers without further hesitation. The gold dust swirled around them, the sunlight was too bright, and Sorcerer's lips on hers were blazing. She closed her eyes, suddenly unable to withstand the heat. Her lungs burned from the lack of air the kiss had taken away from her.

'Breathe.' Sorcerer whispered as he abruptly parted his lips from hers.

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   Daemonica began coughing out the water and gasping furiously. When she opened her eyes, a figure bent over her in the rising sun.

But it wasn't Sorcerer.