Immortal Darkness: Shadow Across the Land (47 page)

Weakly pulling herself away from Pesstian,
Leyai’s eyes turned blue when she snapped, “What were you
doing—trying to drown me?” With a hoarse throat, “Why would you try
to kill me? I
hate
you, Pesstian!”

She’s gone nuts!
Pesstian scolded.
These few silent words were enough to drive Leyai to even greater
heights of insanity.

“What did you just say to me?”

Hoping to fly away from his problems,
Pesstian took a look to his right—only to see the stone sitting
atop the pool was now glowing with the very same effect as the two
owls’ scars. “Leyai! Stop!”

“Oh—you want me to stop? Well I want
you
to stop acting like a childish owlet and stop trying to
kill me!” Leyai was truly angry now—even more-so than what Pesstian
had seen in his own family. Before she could have continued,
however, a blast from the glowing gem quieted the two owls.

The force of such a blast caused Leyai to
topple backwards—nearly losing her breath in the process. Pesstian,
however, saw the stone’s show of power as a beckoning call to all
who thought they could take up the challenge.

A flap of his wings assured Pesstian’s
acceptance toward this trial. Despite all the countless attempts
he’d undergone trying to pick up the stone, something urged
Pesstian to go for one last try.
I can do this
, he
constantly reminded himself while still on the path to the
treasure.

While part of him felt as if he would be
jerked back by the sheer lack of density in this peculiar object,
the little owl instead swiped it clean off from its resting place.
Feelings of enveloping power, generosity, anger, and light and dark
churned about in his stomach upon gripping this stone’s handle.
Such a blend of emotions respired up into his wings—which he was
now given more control over.

After moving around and about in multiple
revolutions, Pesstian drew his flight to a close. Floating down to
the ground brought his overwhelming swarm of rage to a standstill.
Now with his thoughts under control, Pesstian could observe the
object in his talons as it grew ever so lighter.

It was then when he took notice of its
peculiar shape. Rather than a stone, Pesstian suddenly viewed his
object as a weapon. More than a weapon—he viewed it as a tool only
to be used in the direst of situations. But even more than a tool:
This looks like something the humans would use!

This was a blade: one of the humans’ many
tools he’d always come to fear as an owlet. And now he was holding
one in his talon. How could one little owl hold so much power as
had been given to the humans?

Bells suddenly rang in his head at that
moment—only to be interrupted by the realization of Leyai’s
presence. Pesstian swept a flashing glance over at her and found
himself devastated at the sight before him.

Leyai wasn’t moving, and nor did she seem to
breathe. Pesstian’s heart nearly drew to a stop at this moment, as
his breath heaved in fear. Only Leyai’s salvation could have
dropped his insanity. As a result, the deathly-ill little owl dove
down in her direction once again.

A million heartbeats passed between
Pesstian’s dive and the time it took for him to come to Leyai’s
aid. Wind blew in his ears, his eyes shed tears, he fought a
thousand fears—all for the sake of his despicable friend.

Dropping all thoughts of the blade in hand,
Pesstian dropped down to Leyai at long last. All the while did he
shake her by her unmoving shoulders, shouting at the same time,
“Leyai! Leyai! Wake up!” but to no avail. Not even a whisper
escaped from Leyai’s beak; no sign of breath drifted from her
nostrils.

It was then when Pesstian realized it was all
over. Leyai was gone forever—nothing would save her now—no one
could ever hope to rescue her. She was now one with the deceased.
Against every urge and every will in his body, Pesstian released a
tear from his eye and allowed it to drip onto her feathers.

Leyai
, he silently began.
Come
back. Please come back, Leyai.
For an eternity did he remain in
complete silence; for the time being did he remain glued to his
best friend. During such a time did he recheck on how Leyai truly
was.
Could she still have life in her yet?

--

That whole night was nothing more than the
peaceful sleep between Pesstian and whatever remained of Leyai’s
presence. Images flashed around and about in his mind during such a
night—images not of anger and torture, but of harmony in a foreign
land. Such images seemed to him much like subliminal advertising,
but who would want to call out to him at such a time and place?

The images flashing in Pesstian’s mind were
pictures of the dead. Even with images so gruesome and
discomforting in the eyes of the living, he instead found himself
feeling as if he were truly part of this army of the dead.
Skeletal, devoid of skin, and jubilant all at the same time, these
creatures’ image drew Pesstian closer and closer to them with every
passing heartbeat.

He was not entirely sure what was causing him
to adore sights of the dead; why was this so pleasurable in his
eyes? It was then, however, when Pesstian saw some kind of
connection between these images and the tragedy Leyai had just
undergone.

While in the midst of viewing these dead
creatures, something poked Pesstian in his eyes. He wasn’t sure
exactly what it was, but it woke him up nevertheless.

With a snort, Pesstian flicked his eyes wide
open and found himself snuggled in Leyai’s body. The very sight of
her—all the larvae of multiple creatures crawling in and out of her
body—caused him to shudder and pull himself away from her for the
last time.

While disgusted, the little owl couldn’t help
but feel sympathy for the carcass in front of him. He couldn’t just
leave it there; Pesstian
had
to do something about the
squalid mess in front of him. All hopes of finding any spark of
life in Leyai ceased to exist when he pushed her body into the
pool.

Another tear sprouted from his eye as he gave
his one last look at what was his friend.
I’ll never forget
you
.

It was while on his divergent path from Leyai
when a spark lit up in Pesstian’s mind.
The blade! Where is
it?
A surge of panic excavated through his blood as he searched
and searched for his missing weapon. He sniffed the air for any
possible scent of blood, scanned his background with his flexible
head—but to no avail.

Without so much as a wink in Leyai’s
direction, he lifted his wings up in the air and pushed himself
upwards. All the while did his scar glow with a yellow strobe
effect, interfering with his sight.
Why does it keep doing
that?

With time, such a light only grew more and
more rapid. Such a sensation made him feel as if his scar were
truly useful other than flashing random colors.
Is this thing
leading me to my blade?
How such a thought could have entered
his mind mystified Pesstian to the minutest extant. Then again, how
could he decipher between what did and didn’t make sense after
witnessing Leyai’s death?

In the midst of his sorrows and confusion,
Pesstian’s ears vibrated to the sound of snickering and cackling.
At the same time did his scar flash a thousand times per heartbeat.
At the same time did he realize somebody had stolen his precious
weapon.

“We shall never be apart,” heard Pesstian as
he made his way down to the ground. Before him was an elderly owl
of a likeness he had never before encountered. The image he held
consisted of a feathery pelt of brown and a head of two horns.

Failing to keep his temper under control,
Pesstian snapped at this old owl, “What are you doing with that?”
To his surprise, however, no response came from the elder—resulting
in his rage’s acceleration.

“
Hey
!”

“What do
you
want?” the owl responded,
his eyes locked on Pesstian’s blade. With a sneer on his face, he
snuggled Pesstian’s weapon closer to his heart.

A heartbeat of hesitation came between the
two owls before Pesstian sighed, “That’s—
my
blade.”

“It’s not your blade!” the elder growled. “If
you really cared for it, why did you fall asleep on it?”

“What are you talking about? Do you really
expect me to stay up all day holding this thing?”

“That’s what
I
did,” the owl snickered
in response. “I love this little thing; why don’t you?”

His ears twitching with infuriation, Pesstian
grabbed a hold of his blade while commanding, “Give me that back!”
Every muscle in his legs tensed against the surprising strength of
the elderly owl in front of him. How anybody of his age could have
held such a grip on such a heavy object was beyond his
understanding.

With a grunt, Pesstian released his grip on
the sword. It was then when he asked of the elder, “How did you
even carry that, anyway?”

“What are you talking about?” A pause
occurred before the strange owl continued, “Do you think I’m too
old to pick up something as simple as a big rock?”

Such words sparked embarrassment in
Pesstian’s head. How was it that an elder held the strength
necessary for picking up this blade when Pesstian needed Leyai to
help him pick it up? Had this owl also drank the pool’s water?

“But—I found that first,” he protested.

“And you lost it!” the elder retorted.

Pesstian’s blood drew to a boil at these
words. “I didn’t lose it! You took it away from me!” He was truly
amazed how anybody could have been as hard-headed as the owl in
front of him.

While he hadn’t expected the elder to show
any sympathy toward his words, Pesstian took witness of his blade
being set free from the strange owl’s grasp. Such a sigh put an
agape look upon his face.
Why would he do that?

Before Pesstian could have asked the question
out loud, however, the elder owl simply snorted at him, “Don’t talk
to me ever again, little boy.” A flap of the owl’s wings sent him
far way from Pesstian in the blink of an eye.

Just what was that all about?
With a
shrug of his shoulders, Pesstian sighed and picked up the open,
free blade.

--

As quickly as it had come, the
magically-reflective pool vanished from existence—shrinking up
until all that was left was a puddle the size of Pesstian’s foot.
Such an event happened below Pesstian’s gaze and above Leyai’s
nonmoving stare.

From then on Pesstian had done nothing but
simply fly through the sky, forgetting all about the humans’
existence. He left behind him his old friend, his old home, and
almost all his hopes. Only his spine and his blade remained of what
little he had left.

A blade in hand and a scar glowing shades of
scarlet and maroon, Pesstian flew further and further away from the
destructive beasts.
What will happen to me now?
wondered he.
I can’t run away from the humans forever. They’ll find me; I
just know it!

Such thoughts continued to screech about in
Pesstian’s mind until a rumbling in his stomach interrupted his
thoughts.
Oh no,
he resented, holding his only free talon
over his stomach.
When was the last time I ate
something?

After a moment of silence,
I haven’t eaten
all day!

Exhaustion suddenly enveloped Pesstian’s body
and mind at this thought. His wings and blade grew heavier in a
most gratuitous manner—only causing his rage to accelerate. A sigh
escaped from his beak before he decided,
I better get down to
the ground—
now
!

Words turned to actions with a quick dive
down to the snowy ground below. No such things as trees or shrubs
existed in this barren excuse for a land—and it would have been a
miracle of any type of rodent roamed about in this place.

A series of panting expelled from Pesstian’s
beak upon hutting the ground. “Whew!” sighed he, resting his blade
below his feet. Along with the sound of metal clashing with soil,
spreading throughout the air was yet another cry from his rumbling
stomach.

How am I going to do this?
wondered
Pesstian.
If I keep the blade here, somebody will probably just
take it away again.
So then it was decided; Pesstian was to
take his weapon along with him on this hunting trip.

With a sigh, he picked up the sword from the
ground and trotted off into whatever land remain in front of him.
It was then, however, when his scar flashed a golden
color—interrupting his thoughts all the while. A pause drawing to
his feet, he predicted,
This thing is either leading me to food
or that insane owl again.

Against every urge in his body, Pesstian
ignored the flashing light atop his head and continued through the
barren land ahead. All he hoped for now was that his sword in hand
and the scar on his face wouldn’t draw any attention to the prey he
so desired.

His mind drew back to the sword when suddenly
a brilliant idea popped up out of nowhere. His idea was: if he used
his sword like the humans did, he would most likely kill off any
nearby food. The only problem he could think of in such a situation
was his stealth.

With such a heavy object lugging behind him,
a massive amount of speed was taken away from Pesstian’s feet. In
addition to a loss of speed, he couldn’t imagine what would happen
had he lost a grip of the sword. Such an event would have warded
off all surrounding creatures for sure.

Every step Pesstian took, every breath he
heaved, seemed to bring more possibility of prey discovering and
running away from him. The more such occurrences commenced, the
more he felt as if he would never be able to wrap his talons around
food for the remainder of the night.

Then a rustle in what seemed to be dried up
leaves was taken in to Pesstian’s ears.
What was that?
asked
he. Taking a low crouch and a quick scan of his surroundings, he
came to notice a small lemming hiding about in a nearly-deceased
bush.
I’ll just swing my blade at it—it’ll be no problem at
all!