Chronicles of Sunno: The Serpent's Door

The wagon moved slowly, followed by the horses, tied by the reins at the back. At the head was Panecillo, Lysandra's mount, which stood out with its elegant gait and long golden mane. Beside him was Negrito, Zarinia's horse, which in contrast had a thick, dark coat like the night. And a bit further behind was Alaric's chestnut horse, Regino, with his sturdy and confident bearing.

They had "borrowed" the Raven's cart, who had kindly left it in front of his nest, horses included. It was the same one in which they had taken Lysandra and Zarinia away, and Crab recognized it as soon as he saw it. Alaric was driving it, and beside him, curled up on the wooden bench, slept Edel's old black cat. "Mr. Clawsy" was his name. He found it a bit ridiculous, although he would never dare to say it to the old lady, who traveled inside, taking care of her daughters. Lysandra slept a restless sleep, but Zarinia remained unconscious and showed no signs of improvement, even with her mother's attentions.

They had been on the road for almost three hours, heading south. The morning heat dissipated as the afternoon progressed, and Sunno slowly descended toward the horizon. The dirt and stone path was flanked by a long chain of ancient elms, which provided shade to the travelers. The route was quite busy. They had already crossed paths with at least a dozen travelers, but aside from exchanging courteous greetings, they did not stop to talk to anyone.

Alaric estimated that in a couple of hours, at most, they would reach the crossroads. Once there, they should turn west, taking the route to Vallefrio. And then, without stopping, they would leave the county behind, crossing the mountains to the barony of Ferinia. The farther they distanced themselves from Brademond, the safer they would be. Or so they thought. Once they crossed the border passes, they would have to leave the main road, veering north, skirting the base of the mountains that delineated the Cape of "the Horn." In that part of the journey, the road would be more rugged and challenging, and the trip more difficult. They might even have to abandon the wagon and continue on horseback. The final destination was a stone cottage hidden in a small valley, which Edel maintained as a refuge and hideout, and which she had not visited in years.

Alaric was worried. On the one hand, about the sisters' condition. Lysandra seemed to be improving, though she must have had a very rough time with the Raven. But Zarinia showed no signs of recovering. She remained prostrate, pale, and her breathing was almost imperceptible.

And he was also worried because he did not like using the main route, fearing it might be watched by the Count's soldiers. Or that the Raven's ruffians might decide to pursue them, seeking revenge. Though the latter seemed less likely. Those wretches had already had enough contact with witchcraft for a good season, and surely would not want to approach the witches again.

But he also did not risk taking a more difficult path, carrying the girls in the state they were in. Therefore, he had sent Warts ahead, and Crab to watch the rear, about a league behind, to avoid surprises.

Since they left the city, Edel had not talked much, being quite occupied with her daughters. But later, when it seemed she could do no more for them, the old lady approached and began to tell him things about the medallion, the serpent's gate, and what it meant to be the Guardian. Or the Guardianess, in this case. He did not understand everything, because the old lady mixed ancient stories with personal anecdotes, although some things became clear to him.

For one, the medallion could be used to access the temple, but it was not useful for opening the Serpent's Gate if the Guardian was not present. The ancient sorcerers of Hulfgar designed it this way, as protection. Moreover, the Guardian could always access the temple without the key, using a secret entrance. A kind of "back door." Although apparently, it was not easy to pass through, as it was an access meant only for sorcerers.

On the other hand, the title of "Guardian of the Gate" was hereditary. But if the current lineage ended, whoever had the key would become the new Guardian. That is why it was important to recover the medallion and prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. And that is why the Count's goal was to eliminate Edel and her daughters. He wanted to become the Guardian and use the key freely. The old lady suspected that the young man's mind was controlled by that evil intelligence and that he was no longer in control of his actions.

After telling him all those things, Edel went back to check on her daughters. They remained silent for a while, rocking gently with the wagon's sway, enjoying the cool breeze from the mountains, which carried the scents of thyme and lavender. Alaric pondered all this for a while. He had quite a few doubts. And the old lady seemed to notice.

"Do you want to ask me something, Master Toothpick? Or Alaric. How do you prefer me to call you?"

"As you wish. Alaric is fine for people I trust. And you, I believe, have earned it."

"Yes... but your companions call you 'Toothpick' instead of Alaric, and I suppose they trust you enough."

"Occupational hazards, you know," he replied, smiling.

"Alaric, then. Well? What do you want to know?" Edel continued, as she moved to the front of the wagon.

"Well, for starters... How did the amulet end up in the Count's hands? I know Lysandra's fiancé had something to do with it, but I don't know the full story. If you want to tell me. It might be too personal."

"I don't know. Maybe it's something my daughter should tell you," Edel replied, hesitating. "But at this point, and given that you honor me with your trust, I think I can tell you. You have risked too much not to know."

The old lady paused, put her hand on her chin, and stared at the wagon's ceiling, as if trying to organize what she was about to say. After a moment of silence, she continued.

"Perhaps you're wondering, after what I told you about the key, why we don't simply hide it or get rid of it. Or better yet, why we don't destroy it."

"Well, the truth is, I have wondered. Without that medallion, the portal problem disappears, right? It could no longer be opened in any way."

"I wish it were that simple, my young friend. Part of that entity's essence is tied to that pendant. And no Guardian has dared to destroy it. Out of fear, simply. It's possible that breaking the medallion would do nothing. It would be the end of our problems. But it could also happen that the essence would be released and flow freely. Too dangerous, too uncertain. None of us has ever wanted to take that risk."

"Alright. Destroying it, then, no. But hiding it? Putting it in a lead box and throwing it into the depths of the sea? Burying it in some deep cave and collapsing the entrance?"

Edel fell silent for a moment, thinking of the answer, while the horses at the back snorted uneasily.

"That's the second problem we Guardians face, and that's why the medallion must always stay with us," she continued, with a certain tone of resignation in her voice. "In some way, that pendant is like the crack under the door, through which the cold wind slips in winter. Or rather, like the small hole at the bottom of a boat, slowly flooding its interior. Much of our work consists of containing that entity's power. If we stay away from the amulet for too long, that intelligence gains presence in this plane. Stealthily, step by step. Right now, its power must have increased greatly, as it has been away from us for too long. And that's why we must recover it. If we don't control it, and its existence in this plane continues to grow, it will eventually manifest as a physical and complete being. With only a fraction of its power, but still, terrible for our world."

The woman paused, letting out a sigh. She reclined and closed her eyes. Alaric also felt somewhat drowsy and wouldn't have minded taking a nap.

"Besides, hiding it and forgetting about it would pass the problem to whoever found it in the future. It's not something worthy of a true Guardian," Edel finished saying.

"Alright... I understand then that you can't stay away from it, nor destroy it. But that doesn't answer my question. How did it end up in the Count's hands?"

"Oh, dear, I'll tell you a secret, which I hope will stay between us. Although witches have great healing abilities, there is something we can't fight against," Edel replied with a sigh.

"Death?"

"Besides that. Those matters are the domain of Necromancers. Disgusting degenerates... I mean seasonal colds."

"What do you mean?"

"Something as silly as a simple cold. It affects us the same way as anyone, leaving us bedridden, weak, and useless. And we haven't found a magical cure or relief. Only the usual remedies that everyone uses. Well, I fell ill, and my dear Lysandra offered to carry the medallion while I recovered."

"And her fiancé took it from her?"

"You see, that entity is very intelligent. My daughter is powerful, but not enough to keep all that evil at bay. It managed to get into that young man's head. A good man, though too simple. For the demon, it was extremely easy. Once it controlled him, it made him contact someone who had been searching for that medallion for a long time. Then, it forced Lysandra to give it to him, threatening her sister. And poor Lysa had to make her fiancé kill himself to protect her. But it was too late, for the men he handed it to fled as soon as they had it in their hands."

"Wow. That’s terrible…" replied Alaric, seriously.

“It is.”

He remained silent for a moment, trying to imagine what that night must have been like for Lysandra. If he had known this when he first met her, his initial impression would have been different. Maybe that image of a haughty and pretentious woman was just a shield to hide her inner pain.

“And couldn’t they force those men to give back the pendant? I mean, in that way I’ve seen before, with magic,” Alaric continued.

“Enchant them. Unfortunately, no. Lysandra was exhausted, and Zarinia didn’t have enough training and skill.”

“She didn’t have enough skill, at that time,” he thought. Because that very morning, she had shown that she possessed great power, latent within her.

It didn’t take Alaric much trouble to find the location of the Raven’s nest. A bribe here, a threat there, and in the end, he found them in an old house near the port. A not very busy street, away from the main roads of the city. And there they had gone, to rescue the girls. The plan was simple. Edel would deal with anyone who got in their way, and the rest would cover her back. But when they arrived, they found something completely unexpected.

At the very door, the two guys on watch, sitting on a wooden bench, were looking at each other, motionless, as if frozen in the middle of a conversation. One of them even had a seagull on his head, pecking at his hair and defecating on his shoulder, which flew away as soon as they approached. They made no gesture or movement when they passed by. They entered and found themselves in a large, dark room, filled with tobacco smoke, with several tables and chairs, resembling a tavern's lounge, though there was no bar or kitchen in sight. In the center, a group of men stood still as statues, surrounding a body lying on the floor. It was Zarinia, convulsing while muttering something, with her eyes white.

Edel ran to place her hands on her head, to calm her, and after whispering in her ear, the girl seemed to relax and fall asleep. Meanwhile, Alaric moved aside another man, who had been petrified as he was opening a door, and who fell sideways rigidly, losing his balance. He went down the stairs and there he found Lysandra, unconscious, with the Raven over her, pressing a dagger to her neck. But like the others, completely static, as if frozen in time. Alaric was tempted to stab him with his sword right then, but he restrained himself. Nor did he allow Crab to start breaking necks. Or Wart to draw his daggers. It didn’t seem honorable to kill these people in that way. They were thieves, not murderers. He might regret it in the future, but he was a man of principles.

From what Edel explained to him later, it seemed that Zarinia used all her will to force those around her to remain motionless. But her power was released chaotically and uncontrollably, born of desperation. And that had left her in shock. The old woman was very worried, as she didn’t know how that burst of unleashed energy could have affected her. It might have damaged her mind. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to walk again, or speak, or she might have become blind, deaf, or dumb. Or worse, that she might never wake up.

Lysandra, on the other hand, was unconscious from blood loss from her wound in her side and sheer exhaustion. She would recover, sooner or later, though Edel had to use all her knowledge during the journey to heal the wound. The sword had penetrated deeply and caused serious damage. The old woman commented with resignation that in the future, Lysandra would be short of breath whenever she exerted herself greatly.

Alaric was absorbed in these thoughts when he realized that Edel had sat down next to him in silence and was stroking Mr. Clawsy’s back, who was purring loudly, lying on her lap. He decided to resume the conversation.

“Going back to what we were talking about earlier, the person interested in the pendant, I suppose it was…”

“The Count of Brademond. For his mother was an ignorant witch who longed to seize the key,” Edel's expression showed some sadness. “I got to know her personally. The ignorant woman thought she could control its power. Something even the Triad couldn’t achieve. He inherited that knowledge. The rest of the story, I don’t know, but I can guess. My daughters found out the whereabouts of the medallion and hired you to retrieve it. They didn’t tell me any of this, fearing I would oppose it. And I would have. Now I’m grateful they didn’t tell me their plans, for I believe that without your help, everything would already be lost.”

Alaric looked off into the distance, thoughtful. The old woman smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Go ahead, you can keep asking. You neither tire nor bother me.”

“Well, I appreciate that. Regarding that… thing… What does it really want? Why does it want to enter our world? Can’t it be reasoned with?”

“Oh, dear. That is a very deep question,” Edel replied, sighing one more time and looking off at the distant mountains. “And it’s something that, for a long time, we Guardians have tried to find out. It’s a very different intelligence from ours, and we will probably never understand it, but we believe that in its world, all existence is basically it. Or it, for it has no gender. And the existence of other planes outside its influence is an aberration to it. It’s like an arrogant and grasping god. Everything that is not it, or part of it, is blasphemy.”

“It sounds like the attitude of a spoiled child…”

“In a way, it is.”

They continued their journey, leaving the Horn mountains to their right, and to the left, the small forests that bordered the Abundal River. In the distance, to the southeast, through the mist, the peak of the Tooth, the highest peak in the entire mountain range bordering the south of the county, known as the “Zirian Heights,” with its snow-capped peak shining like a beacon under the orange light of the sunset.

Alaric listened to Edel, who had gone back to the rear of the cart, humming something. It sounded like a children’s song, or a lullaby. Soon, he heard a cough and another voice. It was Lysandra. He was very glad that she finally woke up. And this surprised him. A few days ago, he couldn’t stand her. Now he felt genuine concern for her. Why this change? He guessed the answer, and he didn’t like it.

“Mom? Where are we?”

“Lysa, dear! Finally. You had me very worried.”

“And Zari? And the Raven?”

“Don’t worry, your sister is here, next to you. It’s all over. We got you out of there in time. Thanks to Zari.”

Lysandra sat up, coughing, and saw her sister, pale, lying still.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked with concern, while caressing her face.

“She used the Power uncontrollably. Wild magic, like the kind I told you never to use. She saved both of you, but I fear it may have damaged her mind.”

“Zari…” Lysa couldn’t continue, a lump formed in her throat, and tears streamed from her eyes.

“Shhh, come on, come on. I’m sure she’ll be fine. You’re safe now.”

“Where are we going?” asked Lysandra, not letting go of her sister’s hand.

“To the old cabin. We’ll hide there for a while, while we think of something.”

Alaric had turned to greet her. Lysandra noticed and tried to smile but couldn’t.

“I’m glad you’re finally awake,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s been a few tough days, but now it’s time to rest. I hope by the end of the day we can bathe, have dinner, and sleep in a real bed. Your mother will bring you up to date. And then, you’ll have to tell us what happened in there. If you have the strength and the will.”

The day was fading, and they finally passed the crossroads. There was no news of Wart or Crab, which was a good sign. From that crossroad, the path was uphill in both directions, as the city of Terranevada, to the east, sat on the first foothills of the mountains surrounding the Tooth, while to reach Vallefrio, to the west, they had to cross the long chain of mountains that shaped the Horn.

They took the latter turn, and soon the path began to zigzag gently, as the slope became more evident. They left behind the groves, to find themselves among large areas of bushes on both sides of the road, which gradually became less extensive, giving way to huge rocks covered in lichen and moss, which seemed planted among the thickets. About an hour later, almost everything around them was rocky ground, scattered bushes of various sizes, and the occasional tree that had decided to grow in that area. They must be close to the place where they agreed to meet. It was an inn located just at the start of the steepest climb on the mountain road, and it was common for travelers to spend the night there before embarking on the task of crossing the pass to Vallefrio.