089 - The Witching Road

Pswhaa! Psh!

Magnus ran out of the shallow cave, tears in his eyes, spitting out great globs of phlegm - a terrible taste fresh on his tongue from the noxious fumes. Behind him a great stinking cloud followed - spilling out of the cave - what could only be described as toxic vapours.

Within his belly, around his core it had festered - a fetid mixture of Logos, all the newly acquired powers from the Alchemists and Seers; the powerful Mens, Animus, and Vis poured in, compressed until . . .

Hells alive, Magnus, did something crawl up your arse and die?

"Oooh . ." Magnus rolled around on the dirt. "Hob . . where are you Hob? Why can't I see you here?"

It's alright, take it easy - you can't see me here, remember? Just the voice. Hur hur hur . .

"Oooo . . what are you laughing at? Damn your eyes . ."

Hur hur . . ain't you always wanted a mighty power? Some great strength? If Pontius or any great Alchemist appeared in front of you now . . even with all the formations and potions, all you'd need to do is turn around and let rip. Ha!

"Ah ha ha . . Ooooh . . dammit Hob, don't make me laugh, it hurts!" Magnus rolled on his side, his belly gurgling and burbling furiously - a mighty pressure building again. "Oh gods . . oh gods . ."

For half a day Magnus lay in the dirt, groaning and rolling about and only able to stand leaning against a tree - after a few moments the burbling below began anew, his belly blowing up as taut as a ship's sail in high winds - building and building and finally -

Phrrrrrtt!

Wherever the gas touched was blighted - all leaves turned yellow, all flowers wilted, all insects and living things fell into spasms, birds unfortunate enough to be passing overhead were flying and singing one second, unmoving on the dirt the next.

Half a day - until the sun lay low in the autumn skies, a chill wind blowing from the east - Magnus went through the whole process countless times. Hob had laughed, at first, now he stayed silent, the only noise outside the shallow cave was that of Magnus, groaning and farting and cursing.

Neither Hob nor Magnus had the slightest idea what to do - nowhere in any memory or story was any information on how to deal with such a thing - a bout of incessant farting brought on by a Celestials sudden increase in strength . .

Over the course of several hours the pressure in Magnus' belly lessened, the aura of the Logos swirling around his core seemingly growing weaker - slightly, at first, then, as if responding to Magnus' fervent prayers, his white core begun to spin, heating up. As soon as it started the gaseous substances subsided, the several coloured auras entering into the spinning core.

"Ooohh . . my bloody gut . . I feel right rotten. You there Hob?"

I am. No need to say it aloud, just think it.

Right, right . . ah hells, use my inner voice, right. Oh ye gods . . I never want to go through that again.

Aye? It was just a little farting in the woods, could have been worse.

"Could have been worse!" Magnus roared. Ahem. I mean, could have been worse? Bloody hells, how? How could it have been worse Hob? How?

Could have been that there was someone else here. What if Kujata were here? Or . . or Rolf?

Ah hells . . Rolf would never let me live it down.

Yeah.

. . .

Makes you almost wish that you were just suffering from the pus and hard black skin again, right Magnus?

Yeah, yeah . .

Magnus picked himself up and returned to the cave with a sullen expression. Swapping one sickness for another, great. There had to be a solution. No way am I gonna go about my day with the threat of haplessly farting. No way. There has to be a method to suppress this . .

Through the Alchemists’ teachings Magnus identified several potions and brews; teas and remedies made from bark and leaves and brewed specifically to settle flatulence or indigestion. Would they work? Unlikely . . unlike the Heart Sword, there were no stories or legends of heroes suffering from wind.

Celestials. Kujata. I'm an idiot, right? This has to be an affliction specific to Celestials - I mean, who else is ever gonna get in a situation where they've absorbed multiple Logos in quick succession - Kujata has to know!

Hold on Magnus.

Yeah?

Don't mention me, to Kujata, that is. Don't.

Why not?

It might . . frighten her. Don't mention that you can see and talk to another you. She might find it . . a little odd, you know? A little off.

Oh. Alright.

Oh, and don't talk about Red. Or the Great Tree. Or the Silver Fish . . hells, say nothing about me or about the . . the strangeness at all, right?

Why? That don't make sense - Kujata could help me make sense of it! You want me to lie to her?

That's not what I'm saying . . nah, Magnus, listen . . I just . . you just have got to remember - she has lied to you, she's killed you, right? All I'm saying is that you shouldn't be so quick to trust - hells, you have no right to trust her at all! Just be careful with what you say, right? There ain't no need to let her know more than the most basic - pretend ignorance in everything else, just say you don't know, right?

Yeah, I'm pretty good at ignorance . .

Within the Ether the white mist hung thick around the many trees of Magnus forest - the second that Magnus entered he blinked in surprise. The place he'd entered was exactly where he'd been struck down - laying face down on the dirt in the glade in the centre of the forest, no wounds or injuries of any sort on his body.

"Eeek!"

A shrill scream of terror - on the other side of the river Dong-Geun hobbled in the opposite direction. The Martial Prince's complexion had undergone a great change - it hadn't even been a day since he'd come into the forest, but now his face was pale, his eyes sunk, deep black marks beneath both eyes.

Apart from Dong-Geun, the forest had returned to its previous calm - there were no signs of the corpses or gore from the battle, no burns or marks at all - all was returned to a state of peace and quiet, as if it had never - and could never - be any other way.

Magnus sat up - next to him appeared Hob. Eerie . . . no matter how he looked at it, Hob was his perfect twin. Not a shadow, not like a reflection in a mirror - a perfect copy - a perfect twin of himself.

"Yes, this really is how everyone else sees your nose, Magnus. If anyone has ever told you it was handsome they were lying." Hob grinned.

"No need to rub it in . . what about him? Ought I, you know, absorb him? Devour Dong-Geun?"

"Why bother? I've been getting used to the little fella. He's kinda like a little pet . . when you're not around he becomes real industrious, you know? Almost the whole time you've been gone he has been wandering around, going through your pockets, and looking at the trees."

Hob flickered through the air, disappearing and reappearing next to the terrorfied Dong-Geun. Dong-Geun didn't seem able to see Hob at all, nor react to him sticking a foot out and tripping him up, sending the Martial Prince sprawling to the ground.

"She's waiting for you. Has been this whole time, isn't it about time you went and had a word with your big sis?"

"Devil! Let me go! Release me from this torment!" Dong-Geun scrambled over the roots, his arms flailing in a wild blind panic.

"Right." Magnus shook his head, setting off through the trees towards Kujata.