Chapter 19: Mysteries of the East and new allies

Ever since my experience with the old glyphs, Spare had been quieter. We had a brief discussion about my theory regarding the lack of information; he was adamant that the Drak’ga would never go to those extremes, but I wasn’t so sure of it. Setting aside that I had already been about to be killed, enough clues hinted towards their relatively inflexible way of life. If I had to learn, and it didn’t matter what it was, I would try my best to unearth the truth.

That day, two weeks after discovering The way of the old Ink, I was walking towards the baths. The mission I was set to complete would be difficult to carry alone, and I just knew one person there. Over the past few days, we had talked several more times; we would meet to eat together and even studied at the Compendium side by side. Bathing had become some sort of ritual; we met every morning at the same corner and spent the time talking about us.

I wouldn’t say I was jealous of him, but it was undeniable that he had lived a more lenient life than mine. He came from the North West of the continent, the city of Setalar, a well-known stronghold that had served to defend the Kingdom during the dark times. It is said that they played a crucial paper in eradicating the Drak’ga, although it was evident from where I was standing that it was a bluff. One way or another, it is true that most of the army is still trained there, and our bravest soldiers take pride in having been instructed there.

Makka’s worst experience was going through the mandatory army service established in Setalar at the age of seventeen. As far as the general population knew, soldiers were no longer needed, as no wars were being fought. However, according to him, each year, multiple squadrons would go on expeditions to the East just to never return. It was blamed on organized bandits and rebel groups, some even accused residual Drak’gath members, but the truth is that nobody knew where they died nor how.

By the end of the conscription, he knew his future didn’t lay with the army. He went back to his studies with the local branch of the association and specialized in formations. As expected, he knew many more than me, and his ability to develop new ideas was extraordinary. On his right palm, he had drawn a formation, no bigger than an Inkpot, that could accumulate daylight and release it at a slow rate whenever he wanted. His complex explanation, which I could not entirely follow, revolved around the notion of mixing the runes to capture light with some parts of the formation for coldness, and incorporating a limiter mechanism. I can’t do any of that, I thought as my jaw dropped while I saw a thin halo of light released from his hand.

It mainly was a coincidence that converted him to a Drak’ga. He was on a job for the association; an inn halfway to Lamar had requested help with several drawings. A group of mercenaries escorting a horse-drawn carriage needed restoration, their weapons had become rusty, and some had lost their edge. Destiny made a Drak’ga staying at the inn notice his tattoos and work, immediately deciding to take him in.

“Makka!” I energetically called his name while doing the Drak’gath salute, quickly being corresponded.

I dived in the pool, letting the hot water take away all my worries. In the course of the past weeks, I became accustomed to my complete nudes and the others’ too; I wouldn’t look down on my feet the whole time, yet I felt a natural curiosity for the opposite gender. I swam to his side, perhaps excessively carried away by the sights at either side.

When I finally reached him, I sat on a step, my body’s upper half ouf o the water. I had been practicing the whole way over what to say to him, yet now that I was by his side, I didn’t know how to start. How do you go about asking someone their help for something potentially dangerous and illegal? I fidgeted, nervously moving my legs.

“You kept reading, didn’t you?” Makka asked me, surely aware of my anxiety. His voice was a whisper and avoided all references to the book’s name or contents. I nodded, not stopping my jittery movements. After sighing and shaking his head, he continued, “why?”

“I must know!” my voice came out without me wanting to “I can’t really explain it; it just feels like something is amiss, that there are secrets hidden from us.” I tried my best to explain it without saying too much; several people were bathing close to us.

“I like you, you know?” His answer got me; I stared dumbfounded at him. “Haa…” he noisily exhaled, “meet me in an hour on the north exit, I’ll bring someone-” he stopped and squinted at me, “’cause you need help, right?”

“Are you sure?” I couldn’t say anything else; the idea of involving Makka was already frightening, being responsible for someone else’s well-being might have been too much.

“One hour!” He was already stepping aside when he said those words.

There were approximately twenty minutes to our meeting point from the baths, so I used the rest of the time to enjoy myself. I went over what I knew and what I would tell them, memorizing a speech so I would not draw a blank again. Time went by quicker than I’d have wanted; without having finished my discourse, I had to dress and hurry there.

I quickly recognized Makka and his companion, a woman, at a distance; they were the only two people in several square meters around. Barely five meters from reaching them, I started distinguishing her faces, and I froze in place.

“If it isn’t you!” The woman’s voice confirmed any doubts I had left. It was the very same lady I had opened my cell’s door while naked.

I inwardly facepalmed while I felt my cheeks burning. I didn’t know how I should talk to her; it felt like I had a knot in my throat. My appearance and robotic salute made her break into a laugh, helping me release some tension and relax.

“You know each other?” Makka’s head was turning from one to the other, rapidly blinking in surprise.

“We could say so!” She barely managed to say in between bursts of laughter. She had to straighten and calmly breathe for a minute to recover her composure and be able to speak in conditions. “Your reputation precedes you,” she said while making a visible effort to stop herself from laughing again, “I’m Yarai,” she greeted me back with her index finger.

Makka, still lost with what was going between the two of us, changed the topic back to what we were doing there. “Tarar, what have you discovered?”

Call me naive, inexperienced in life, or whatever other adjective you might consider appropriate, but I chose to trust in two strangers. Makka had already shown to be trusty, he hadn’t reported me for studying that forbidden book, and he brought Yarai. I explained everything I had read in that book, my out-of-body experiences with Ink, and even how those old glyphs produced a radically different experience while drawing.

Before going into the matter in question, my theories, I made them do a quick test. I lay out my shoulder bag and took out my fountain pen, the Drak’gath pen, some paper, and Ink.

“When I draw with the fountain pen, even if it is those old glyphs, I don’t feel anything special. Yet, when I use the Drak’gath, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that comes from our tribe, that’s when it all happens. Here,” I offered the Drak’gath to Makka, “try drawing a formation.”

He was reluctant at first; his hand uncontrollably shook while taking the tool, but that didn’t stop him from drawing a few glyphs. They were rough, clearly the fruit of lacking expertise with my Drak’gath, but judging from his elated expression, his longing sighs, and his lost sight, I knew it had served its purpose.

I had to almost take the Drak’gath from his tightly closed hand by force, passing it to Yaira, who in time drew some more formations. Her face was like a clone from Makka’s, surely the same I had done the first time.

I asked what they felt, and although both confirmed having a much closer and intimate sharing with the Ink by barely answering me with simple yeses or noes, daydreaming the whole conversation, none of them could relate to my visions nor the voice that called my name.

“Which brings me to,” I clapped, making them jump from the scare but gathering their attention, “why would they hide it from us?”

I could see their metaphorical gears turning; smoke came out from their ears as they struggled to find any explanation. At times their heads shook, probably discarding some theories. Others, their hands were raising with a finger extended, just to dispiritedly come back down halfway through.

“You’ll agree with me,” I said after giving them five minutes, “that there must be something big behind it.” Their heads repeatedly nodded even before I had finished the phrase. “They wouldn’t bother to hide some triviality, not to the extent of fooling the entirety of the Drak’ga.”

“But,” Yaira said after I finished, her voice hesitant, “don’t you think it’s an inside job?” I could hear her words breaking at the end, coming out as a whisper. I didn’t judge her, we had a legacy inside us, and my theory betrayed everything it meant. It wasn’t without reason that Spare was in a meditative state, cut off from me.

“Exactly,” I said, letting the word sink in, not rushing to continue.

“Then, what can we help with?” Makka said after a tense silence.

“That… I was hoping to find more information, but honestly, I’m not so sure where to start from. I’m still adapting to being a Drak’ga, and this news hasn’t been particularly welcomed by my teacher.” I explained, trying to hint where I was going. “Maybe you could help me find more books or ask if you have any contacts, anything really.”

“I don’t think we will find any other book, not in the public section of the Compendium.” I was about to ask about that public section, barely having opened my mouth, that Makka shook his head and added. “Only Drak’oora can access it. The entrance is guarded with a formation. You need the matching one to enter; think of it as a lock and its key.”

“Have you heard of the accident with the last Drak’ga that didn’t pass his tests?” Yaira suddenly asked, somewhat diverting the attention from the main topic.

I waved my hand, implying I knew something. “They mentioned it during my judgment, but all I could hear was that something bad happened.”

She explained the story had popularly been baptized as Yagmel’s dark practices. It was not long ago, on the contrary; apparently, it took place barely two years ago. Yet, the events were so unnatural that the whole narration was enveloped in a veil of mist and mysticism.

Yagmel had killed his teacher; once he had the first part of the tattoo engraved, he learned what the final formation would do and didn’t hesitate to draw it while she was sleeping. He spent years taking in all her knowledge, revisiting the legacy of the Drak’ga, learning everything there was.

He managed to fool the Drak’oora, the details around that are hazy at best. It is said that he spoke the language of glyphs, impersonating his teacher and lying about her death. He spent years with us, buying the trust of everyone, eventually advancing to a position of power.

And then, two years ago, just as he had been ascended to a Drak’oora, he unleashed his evil plans. Invoking formations no one had ever seen, he plunged the hole into darkness, throwing our entire society into chaos. He then stole knowledge reserved to the leaders, carved in his body books and tools that only them had access to.

They chased after him, trying to recover what was ours by right, but he escaped, leaving the city in disarray. Legend says he fled to the East, yet there’s the opinion, which Yaira shared, that he didn’t escape; that was where he intended to go from the start.

My theory threw some light to the story, maybe he had dug out the truth we were after, but being discovered in the process, he had to create a diversion to escape with more proof. Or maybe he knew from the start and just wanted the knowledge for his own benefit. Perhaps he was a murderer who discovered a way to get stronger. Whichever it was, it refused to believe it was a coincidence that he stole from the private collection.

He parted with their promise to spend the week searching the Compendium for more references while I finished my book, trying to find any more helpful information. I didn’t tell them, but I was also planning on checking that private part of the library. I might not be able to enter, but nothing was stopping me from prying the formation.

My way home should have been just that, a peaceful stroll back to my cell. I was zig-zagging through the narrow streets of that part of the town, devoting some time to learning how to navigate the neighborhood when I saw a shadow quickly approaching me. It was too fast and menacing to be any other person who just walked around. I circled around, with my feet secured to the ground, and extended my hands in a defensive position.

“You are not welcomed here.” My eyes met with Yaraq’s, all I could see was rage, pure hatred. “I will only tell you once, be gone by tomorrow, or you won’t see another day.” He didn’t touch me; his face was stiff, his muscles tensed, and his message clearly stated. The faction that opposed my presence had started moving.

“I was accepted!” I retorted, still maintaining my defensive position, just in case he retracted from his own words and decided to attack me there.

“Not to our eyes. Only those who’ve gone through the ritual of initiation and passed shall share our past.” I couldn’t help but think of Lamar’s nobles, that rich kid who thought I was not worthy of the association for being a commoner. My blood boiled, my punch closed, my mouth was trembling, my tongue caressed my teeth, I had to close my eyes and breathe to stop myself from punching his nutsack.

I knew arguing with him would be a lost cause, so I promptly turned and resumed my walking. “One day!” he shouted as I already had left him far behind.

My problems were piling up, I didn’t know what they would try to get rid of me, and I still had too much to read. Deciding I had just seen my carefree time reduced to a bare minimum, I changed my course and headed for the Compendium. I would read the remaining five chapters of the book in a single session and then seek Makka and Yarai for aid. Hiding was second nature to me already. I was only worried about not being able to take the book out.

One day… One day and my peaceful stay will come to an end.