Creus(Full Book)

Part 12

The morning arrived. He woke up in the morning air. Smells of pine and palm wavered in the air. He rolled out of the grass and onto the sand. The water rushed past his head. He lay there, against the waves of the lake. He blinked twice, removing the sand that had crusted around his eyes.

He yawned and sat down on the shore.

His eyes dimmed at the sight of the sun. He could see it, with its great flames burning around the sphere. The brain of Protennessen. An amalgamation of fire, forming an outline of orange and red. Made with thousands of clouds and stones, bursting with tendrils of gradient heat. Black, orange, and red leaping onto shards of orange bursting from the sun

All Protennessen. And the rest. The sun had watched. Had all the gods watched? Had the Prophet seen as he fell from the waves and crashed into the lake? Had they watched as his skin peeled and his body crumbled under the pressure of the serpent?

They had watched and saw them. They saw and didn't care. They'd never cared for Darrell and his sadness, nor Bernard, nor Rickman, none of them. He'd prayed for all of them.

He'd prayed for life, not death...

But, he'd prayed to all of them, and they'd never answered. They'd seen them all fall from paramount and into the snake. All watching their boat skim over the waves and fall into the throat of the serpent. They'd done so, sent the serpent outwards. Out from its home and to them. Sending them upon a journey and inflicting upon them the Abyss. The horrible, horrible Abyss. From the fathoms, it was alerted by Alzabron.

Then they came, with teeth and flesh. Hunting them down, forcing the serpent upon them.

He faced the lake.

He could swim back, survive the snake again. Swim for miles and miles until he ran back to his village. But, a useless journey forward and back.

He could swim though, into the ocean, float to shore, pale as a corpse, but still alive. He could live through it and jump into it again. He could. He could! All he... All he needed to do. He couldn't though. He couldn't... none... none at all.... He couldn't swim. He would die in the water if he tried.

Then, he would reach it! Climb it, finish it, get to the top. He would find the Prophet and reach him. No way back, only forward.

His eyes dimmed. The sky grew grey as the clouds eclipsed the sun.

He'd done nothing, nothing he'd known of, nothing he'd thought of. He respected all of Protennessen. He'd upheld the morals of the gods, living with the monks. But, yet, this... The snake, the captain. Sent by the gods themselves.

Horrible, horrible Protennessen. Why Protennessen? Why did he mention, why did he worship, why did he rely on Protennessen? Only the Prophet could fulfill everything. Only the Prophet. Not Laphanists, not Protennessen... But only if he knew... Why?.... Why?.....

A mistake. Maybe, he'd faulted. A mistake. Unknown to him. A mistake that angered the gods, and sent their wrath down upon him. Yes, yes, that was it, a mistake. Only one mistake, gone in the past. What mistake? What had it been?

The others woke and he stood. Hobbling a little. His legs trembled a bit, dipping below as he walked. David trembled, his feet shuffled. But he could stand, crooked and swaying like wheat in the wind.

Bernard stood with two bandages wrapped around each arm. Each one, torn from Rickman's shirt and Osmond's bag.

Rickman rose from the boat, a fragment of his paddle near him. Osmond tumbled from a tall hill into the lake and stood up immediately as water ran up his face.