Chapter 4 – Crossing

Erif slowly held her blade defiantly against her dangerous opponent. Despite her tired, worn form, she continued to hold the sword confidently. Niomiel could only cross his arms and smile. Victory was already on his side. Nirisica shot a confused look to him and back at Erif.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Oh, the priestess even had company.” Niomiel smiled. “May I inquire your religion.”

“We—”

“She’s a Kaveri but not like you!” Erif yelled but she did not know why. It was the urgency in her tone that made the situation feel much more desperate. Her vision began to slightly blur and she shook her head several times to find that he suddenly vanished. “Niomiel!” she called and could not find the right amount of energy to sense his presence.

“Erif! Stay back!” Nirisica insisted as she threw a far upper kick which caused Niomiel to divert his attention to the younger girl.

“You are cute.” Niomiel smiled. “We are of the same religion. Why fight me?”

“Umm...” the younger girl thought. “We shouldn’t have to kill her for her beliefs.” The class that she was trained from the moment she was born began to rise. The Ninja and the Fighter classes of brute force and small, sharp objects of metal unleashed its toll.

Niomiel countered each of the sharp discs that flew within his direction. The style that his sword spun, Erif found quite unique. His style mimicked something that of a whirlpool or a windy storm. The way that Nirisica fought was quickly wearing her out from the swift assaults of Niomiel’s sword.

Erif glared at him and suddenly pointed her finger in his direction and launched an array of holy spells. Nirisica, seeing the attack, leaped out of the way leaving Niomiel as the focus of the spell’s targets. A symbol in front of him glowed leaving the white blue streaks of magic to slam against the transparent force field scattering the holy spells in different directions.

“An Oracle, are you?” he blinked appearing to be surprised by the display of strength. “What are you doing hiding in a town of Necromancers?” The priestess did not answer and collapsed to the ground catching her breath. “It makes no difference. You are still a Cielist and that is all that matters.”

“Niomiel.” Erif and his eyes finally locked onto one another’s. “I recant.”

“Erif?” Nirisica shook her head. “What?”

“I recant.” She whispered. “There’s nothing left I can do.” The young man appeared unconvinced by her message. He strolled to where she rested against the grass. Her eyes slowly closed to feel the boundaries of sleep until she was brought to sit back up.

“Say that again.” Niomiel requested. Erif nodded. She was exhausted. There was no room left in her to fight. “Tell me how Ciel is the dirtiest religion and how every soul at the shrine deserved to die.” As Nirisica heard those words repeated, she had a faint feeling that Erif did not care of truly recanting. The itching hunger and the cry for sleep played against her senses dangerously making her highest priority to rest.

“She said it, Niomiel. Leave her alone.” Nirisica insisted.

“She will need to prove more than only words.” He smiled. “I am glad you made the right choice.” Erif merely nodded and swallowed feeling her mouth and throat run dry. She felt she had seen several stones for a moment and there she wanted to leap and make it to the next one.

There was something very wrong with one of them though.

The priestess suddenly awoke by a command and a flurry of horses. She felt herself being pulled from her dream and found her landing upon the back of a horse which sprinted towards the black city of Construpo. The weakened adrenaline was the only source of strength that had managed to keep her awake.

“Erif! Wake up!” Nirisica encouraged. “Stay awake until we get to Construpo, alright?” The Oracle gripped onto the reigns of the horse and did not look back. Just a little longer. There was a third horseman as well and Erif could only guess with the blazing black color that it was Seti. She wondered if it again was the distant woman called Shida that saved her from falling prey to the Necromancers and Niomiel.

“Are you alright?” Seti yelled. Erif nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“That man will not dare cross Construpo. It is forbidden by Kaveri religion.”

‘Even by Ciel as well,’ she thought solemnly to herself. ‘However, the situation rule must apply. There is no other way out of this mess.’

The clear image of the stepping stones transcended into her mind again. She could count forty, the same amount as before. However, like the moment she was about to slip into the dream, there was something horribly wrong with the thirtieth stone. Obviously, she felt she might have missed it the first ten times of receiving such a dream but she decided to examine closer.

She jumped to the next stone and to the next. At last she arrived at the twenty-ninth and stared at the coming rock. It was covered in a spectacle of red paint which dripped away into the never-ending darkness. The moment her hands reached to touch the bleeding stone, a torn image of a woman and a man that sent a rush of fear that paralyzed every one of her senses.

Erif woke again to find a wooden, dusty ceiling stare back at her. She rubbed the cold sweat off of her face and the tears from her eyes from absorbing such a shock. The last time she had cried to such shock was when she saw her classmate’s, Raggiungere, body left in her own bedroom, unrecognizable, slaughtered and sacrificed mercilessly by a Sumner. The tears came not through sorrow but dead shock.

“Ah, the Oracle is awake.” A young girl’s calm voice greeted her awakening. “Are you alright, Erif? Bad dream?” Surprised by Nirisica’s presence, she slightly shook her head. Erif slowly sat up and felt much more relaxed and energized as compared to the past few days. “You were asleep for a whole day.”

“Wow.” The priestess blinked. “Where is that man?”

“Bringing back some food. It is fine. As long as Seti accompanies us, it does not look too suspicious. After all, no one would ever expect an Oracle and a Necromancer to travel together.” She smiled. “Tell me, what was your dream about? It must be fun to be an Oracle.”

The young woman shook her head.

“We wish for opposites.” Erif admitted. The younger girl smiled and nodded. “This is the tenth dream that I have had about stepping stones. Eleventh actually if you would count the one I nearly was in when I almost fell asleep in front of Niomiel.”

“Amazing. I guess that the dream or whoever, really wanted you to see it. After all it is your tenth dream you have had the same outcome?”

“No. No same outcome. The last three did not have the same outcome.” She shrugged. “This time, I saw a screaming woman and a smiling man.

“Yet...it happened at the thirtieth stone.”

“How many stepping stones were there?”

“Forty of them.” Erif whispered. The curious look on Nirisica’s face suddenly vanished to one of disbelief. “Does it bother you for me to speak of this?”

“There are forty Adonais that have ever come into existence, including the one today.” Nirisica mentioned. “I do not know. Hopefully I am wrong that it may be something else.” She quickly shook her head and changed subjects. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better actually.” The Oracle smiled.

“You look much more radiant than the first time I met you.” Nirisica mentioned.

“As do you.” She replied politely. Now that she had for the first time since the iconoclasm, not too long ago anyway, has had recovered in a full rest period, the events had began to shape its effect on her.

The frightening effects of the temple rang loudly in her head but not as wildly as it did before her full rest. They were much more controlled but what to do next in her life would be different.

She obviously could not stay here in Construpo forever. The most wicked city in the world that reeks of prostitution, gambling, fall of human integrity, morals, and ethics, the city that is ravaged by the home of Necromancers and Sumners. Several Sumner beasts and Necromancer skeletons strolled or flew through the city occasionally.

The buildings were black and the skies were of a dark gray. The weather in this place seemed to be forever cloudy. Secondly, the city was surrounded by a barren desert. Something about the imagery of such a polluted city made her feel if she were to stay too long, she could never leave.

“Funny. When we came here, there were some people asking Seti if they could have you instead.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he was carrying you in and I was following. Of course, the way it looked, it seemed as if he had both of us.” Nirisica laughed sarcastically. “They say you look like a dove here. No surprise. I wanted to say you were an Oracle which is probably what they were feeling.” Noticing the drawn out silence, Nirisica began to pursue further. “Yet, you came by yourself to Eila. Did you not have companions?”

“Yes, but the incident separated us. They are all still among the living...I believe so but I do wish they are well.”

“Tell me about them.” The Ninja smiled.

“You might like them. Certainly all of the women in my hometown did.” She began. “Sygma and Aoma. One is from Kismet and the other was born here.”

“Oh, a Kismet man. He must be very beautiful then.”

“You can say that.” Erif sighed. “Well I am not sure about Sygma...” she shook her head.

“Seti should be back after a while. He’s getting us some food. Meanwhile, you should rest.”

“Why should we trust him?” the Oracle asked. “After all, he was one of them. He could be betraying our trust just to hand us back to Jitka?”

“Oh. Do not say that, please.” Nirisica shook her head urgently. “I know Seti. He would not do that. He likes you a lot though. He says you remind him of a person he looked up to often.”

“Shida?”

“Yes. She is supposedly the strongest Necromancer to ever walk this earth.” Nirisica answered. “Also one of the kindest. She was the sort of woman who broke all types of stereotypical images.”

“That is wonderful.” Erif smiled feebly. Although the Shida woman was somewhat a particular interest to her, she refused to acknowledge a Necromancer as being anything like her. Another hour had gone by before Seti returned with food for the three of them. He had a pleasant smile like nothing would bother them, that a Kaveri Religious cult would be after his head and that his previous Necromancer friends would be hunting for him. Nothing seemed to phase him. The Oracle doubted he remembered.

“How is the mighty Oracle?”

“Silence.” She snapped immediately.

“She is well.” He handed her bread of loaf which she refused to take. He dropped the bag on her legs instead. “How about you, Nirisica?”

“Well.” The Ninja smiled. Erif was tempted to glare at her to insist that her judgment needed some adjustments. There was a close relationship between the two which she knew was beneath their surface words. Seeing that she was beginning to take a bite from her food, Erif felt it would be more polite to her if she followed.

“What is the plan here? We are in the stupidest place in human civilization.” Seti sighed. “At least...the Oracle would think so.”

“It’s Erif, not Oracle.”

“I know.” Seti shrugged. “It is fun to make you angry.” He almost smiled but Nirisica’s glare put his smirk away. “My apologies and as much as I respect your heritage, Erif, Nirisica and I discussed this through...” he exchanged glances as if wanting approval to speak. “that you should have a change of clothes. Walking around with resemblance of an Oracle will only hurt us wherever we go.”

“What do you suggest?” Erif looked to Nirisica.

“A new wardrobe!” she clapped cheerfully. “Obviously, Seti is going to have to put his cloak away and I need to have new clothes too. I can’t have the Necromancers suddenly recognizing me so I was thinking of some new styles and ornaments to our hair to give a basic cover to our identity.”

“Sounds reasonable.” The Oracle agreed. The Necromancer rolled his eyes and took the case of clothes from behind his form.

“You two have your fun. I will search for some directions to have us head further east. If worse comes to worse, we can go to Sophronia.” Immediate disapproval shot from Erif’s point of view. An Oracle in a Black land was like a healthy deer in the midst of a starving herd of lions. “On the border is fine.”

“For a while until they forget about us?” Nirisica asked.

“Fine.” Erif mumbled. “Thank you.” As much as she detested the thought of ever stepping into Sophronia in her lifetime, she knew she would have no choice if the time came to it. However, she hoped that they could do all in their power to make sure nothing would happen that would push them to the extent of crossing into Sophronia. “These sizes are a little small. You think they would fit?”

“Of course they should! You are not plump, Erif.” Nirisica laughed. The Oracle glanced at the Ninja’s petite frame which made her feel obviously large in comparison. “Thin, thin, thin! You can fit. Seti...could you leave us alone for awhile?” Silently, she had to admit the clothes he wore on the day she demanded he take off looked much better on him. The Necromancer sighed with a brief smile and left the room. “Try this.”

“That is very revealing. I am of the Ciel religion.” She scowled.

“Oh, fine. Not so provocative.” Nirisica held up several more articles of clothing.

“They look too small for me.”

“Nonsense! Try it!” Reluctantly, the Oracle quickly donned the clothes to find them an almost perfect hit. “See? ‘Too-small-for-me.’” Nirisica mimicked. “It’s very flattering.”

“Then another one.” Erif protested.

After a long while, clothes for Erif and Nirisica were decided and Seti returned with a blank expression to both of their outfits. He gave several, general compliments, but appeared to be much more fascinated by the warm, soft bread he was currently ingesting joyfully.

“Why do you not simply cut your hair off if you do not want to be noticed as easily?”

“Seti!” Nirisica whined. “You are a Sophronian Necromancer. You do not understand. You see...it is traditional that the females must have long hair. It is a symbol of chastity and womanhood. That is why the women of Eila had long hair.” He shrugged in some mild surprise. “Apparently, Necromancers and Sophronians do not follow that tradition.” She winced at her own remark. Erif scowled to such a statement as well. It was only the uncivilized populations that did not follow such culture.

The importance of long hair was vital to any female’s identity. Short hair would resemble immaturity or the presence of a prostitute. Short hair led to the belief of the fall of womanhood. This sort of practice had been embedded in all of society for so many years. Only the Sophronians and the demonic classes refused to have taken such practices over time like the ritual of long hair and abstaining from the likes of physical touch.

“At least Sumners, Necromancers, and Sophronians are much better groomed.” Seti commented. “Well, that’s what I think at least.” She did not want to hear another word from him. “Let us think about where to head.” The Necromancer grabbed an available seat. “You first.”

For several moments, Erif jogged through her memory and thought what might be the best action. Although Nirisica and Seti had some sort of experience in battle Niomiel, she was the only one who had experienced more of the impact. In the distant lands of the nation of Jamari was a foreign, exotic land. Traditional, fruitful rituals were always practiced and the land of spices and good luck reigned in the reality of the imaginations in foreigners’ minds.

The residents of Jamari were known to be very wealthy although their wealth is tied to the economy of their products. Unlike the angry hell of Construpo, Jamari was known to be a beautiful, foreign land that held much legends and a rich history that no other country has ever had. Many believed that the origin of civilization spawned from Jamari as they were certainly more innovative and creatively advanced than any other country at this present time.

However, as Erif wandered on her thoughts to the lands of Sophronia, it was the nation stricken by the poverty forced upon it by the surrounding lands. It was also the wicked nation of Sumners and Necromancers that resided in the banks of a dreary hell. The Oracle had heard that the skies there were blue and gray while the city was black like Construpo. Many natives die each year from the incredibly cold weather that takes a high toll amongst the many families filled by poverty as no other country would allow its inhabitants to cross their borders. It was also believed to be the origin of the demonic classes although not every Sophronian was necessarily a Sumner or a Necromancer.

“We cannot run away forever. We can put out the source of our troubles although I must admit, it is beginning to pile up.” Seti admitted. “Niomiel and his Kaveri cult and those fellow Necromancers of mine who would be more than happy to persecute us...it can only be better, I hope.”

“We can attempt to make it to Veracity.” Nirisica suggested. “Religious protection. If the Kaveris try anything, we can appeal to the Veracitian government for protection since they do not have any tolerance for religious persecution.”

“Sounds good to me.” Erif expressed her favor for the idea.

“We can stay on the border of Sophronia to be safe...” seeing that his idea was not welcomed by the Cielist, he shook his head. “...or we can go straight to Veracity.” He sighed. “Don’t say I did not warn you.”

“Chances are, Niomiel knows we are...or even worse, had informed the Necromancers to hunt for us here.” The Oracle explained. “Perhaps we can all have one more day of rest and head out tomorrow to Veracity?”

“We can stock up on food. I doubt any of them could have recognized the horses in the dark.” Nirisica agreed. “Seti?”

“Tasra has a good sense of smell.” The foreign name was probably referring to one of the other Necromancers that were in Eila. The very mention of Tasra’s name brought a scowl to Nirisica’s angelic face. “We could possibly head off after our meal. Besides, I doubt they would want to attack us when an Oracle is now at optimum strength.”