What The Fireleaves Danced

"Afar off lands speak of the Ija Yawa Kingdom, that which belongs to the dalaketnon. While we have never seen this Kingdom, from what I've gathered from the natives, the dalaketnon are feared, similar to those alien-people we've met in the woods with leaf-shaped ears and large bulbous eyes, save their complexion is the blackest of blacks and their hair the whitest of moons. The dalaketnon, they say, have the power to control other maligno. They must be very powerful to garner such a claim."

- Savant Sifario de Nifam, 975th Year of Yavum's Slumber

Zagoza and Andrado split away from Citro and Dasio after a while, hailing a late night kalesa shambling slowly down the streets. The driver was hooded when they got in, but nodded respectfully to Zagoza.

"North," said Zagoza, and the driver nodded. The kalesa picked up the pace.

They stopped in front of a three storey building, tall and very wide. There were five sets of windows on every floor. They walked up to the brick construction, in through the door, and up one flight of wooden stairs. Zagoza led Andrado to a wooden door painted white not too far from the stairs and opened it up for him.

Within was – Andrado had to admit – a surprisingly clean room. There was a balcony over to the far side, where one could see he hung his clothes and laundry. Past that there were clotheslines leaping from one window to the next, to the building on the other side, crossing the gap.

"It's not much, but," Zagoza spoke. "Make yourself at home."

Andrado nodded, and gave the Civil Guard an appreciative smile. He walked over to a desk and laid his leather satchel on there. Zagoza pressed a button, and a light flooded the room. Andrado looked up, raising his eyebrows at the lamp that hung on top of the room. The light was bright enough to illuminate the entirety of the apartment.

With the room now lit, he could see the various canvasses, hastily glued onto or just leaning against the wall. Various paintings of various styles, impressionist and expressionist. Abstract colors painting some pretentious kaleidoscope of the soul, and strange pieces featuring very proportionate drawings and paintings that look like they had been real images.

To the far corner, Andrado could see a still well-oiled crossbow leaning against the wall.

"Alkymikal lights?" asked Andrado, raising an eyebrow.

"Aye," Zagoza replied. "Didn't expect to see them outside Phaedrus, yeah?"

"Yes. They are quite expensive and difficult to make, after all."

"We have a few alkymists here, living in Selorong. They do a lot of work, but they charge a hefty sum."

"I can only imagine," said Andrado. "They already charge an arm and a leg in Phaedrus."

"Right." Zagoza moved over to the bathroom near the door. "We have a shower here, just so you know. You can use it anytime you'd like. Although, not right now, because I'd be in it." Zagoza paused, and then winked at Andrado, grinning. "Unless of course, you're into that."

Andrado licked his lips and shook his head, managing a grin. Zagoza laughed, and vanished into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

With Zagoza gone, Andrado poured the contents of his bag out, moving aside various letters that had stacked on top of the wooden desk – letters to Zagoza's mom, Andrado had managed to glance.

The Chronicle of Light, his copy of Yavum's Holy Book, spilled out from the leather satchel. He saw a few scraps of his parchment paper, and… that was it. Nothing else. Even his journal – which had been filled one-fourths of the way through – had vanished.

Andrado sighed a long, defeated sigh. He shoved the leatherbound tome back into the leather satchel as well as put that dirk he had wrapped around his waist all this time – the one Citro had given him – and fell onto the bed directly behind him, his hands running through his hair. He couldn't afford to lose his journal, nor his writing implements. They had been gifted to him by family, he felt horrible for losing them.

And worst of all, of course, was the losing of his copy of the Esoteries of Luminance. Being part of the Jeremian Order had already cost him dearly – that strange magical brotherhood that he had to undergo initiation for. And now that expensive copy of Esoteries was gone, in the hands of some brutish barbarian no doubt. He hoped they would not have torn it up and used it to wipe their asses.

And his elderwood wand. A wand that had a higher connection to him. A wand that facilitated a quicker connection with the Merak of Yavum, allowing for more powerful and forceful Invocations, also gone. Tens of thousands of rachim, gold pieces, gone.

He sighed, still running his hands through his hair. He heard the door of the bathroom open, and Zagoza walk out, now in a white tunic and silken shorts. "You okay, Scholar?"

Andrado shook his head. "Not exactly." He sighed. "Important implements still have been stolen from me."

"Hey, cheer up," said Zagoza, laying out a blanket on the ground beside the bed. The bed itself only had enough space for a single person, and Zagoza had considerable bulk. "We'll be meeting with the devil-boy tomorrow. I don't know what Citro has in mind, but we might be able to squeeze more answers out of him by the time he's not flooding his eyes with his tears."

"Right," said Andrado, nodding. "Am I to sleep there?" The scholar gestured at the laid-out blanket on the floor.

The civil guard officer shook his head. "No. I sleep here. You're the guest. You sleep on the bed."

Andrado blinked. "Are you sure?"

Zagoza turned and looked at him straight in the eye. "Yes." And with that, he fell on his knees and onto a feather pillow. "Quickly. We awake early in the morn, and the day is dawning." Already, Andrado could hear the hushed speakings of the morning orc.h.e.s.tra, the soft tweeting of birds, the far-off crows of c.o.c.ks, the soft trickle of water being pulled up from wells and pumps.

Andrado nodded in agreement, and he fell onto the bed. Slumber came quickly to him, it seemed, and he did not like that. He was used to tossing and turning in the bed, thinking of things to think about. He thought he'd be too stressed about the potential of his Jeremian membership being known, but he was not.

Instead, he dreamt.

* * *

A sunlit plain. He stood in the middle of it, green grasses swaying. There were no trees, but he could see a ridged mountain range in the distance. To his right was a vast expanse of sea, pocked with islands. He couldn't pinpoint where he was.

He stood in the middle as the earth came about him, rising in jagged pillars piercing the sky. He saw a burning heat from the sun – as if the sword of Yavum – striking at these jagged pillars. The pillars writhed with blackness, as if having punctured some alien, demonic being.

That was when the water rose, reaching up to the sky before crashing down on the plain itself.

Then came the visions. He had never had prophetic visions before. This was new. Something very new.

Bodies of dead, piled up on top of each other, bleeding and serrated and destroyed. Human corpses, but also corpses of engkanto--tamawo, palesekan, dalaketnon, garuda, buwaya and even the draconic rian. Their bodies streaked and blanketed the grassy field.

The sun was red, raining blood down from the sky. From afar off, there was a pitch-black monolith that ate all the light about it. Even the light of the sun seemed to bend around it. And then, he saw a burning light from behind him. He heard winds whipping around something from behind him, his shadow dancing before him.

Andrado turned to see a myriad of burning beings – twenty-one in all, he counted – burning like suns, and each having a number of smaller lights circling about them, orbiting them.

He heard a growl from behind him, and he turned just in time to see the pillar explode into light-eating tentacles, grasping and flailing, aiming for the twenty-one beings.

The burning bodies flung themselves at the shadowy tendrils. Radiant light like Yavum Almighty, bursting forth to meet with the shadowy grasp of the monolith.

* * *

Andrado awoke. Zagoza was before him, mixing something on top of his desk, and he could smell the potent aroma of coffee. "You drink coffee, scholar?" He was already in his navy blue padded uniform.

Andrado yawned. He moved himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. "What?"

"Coffee, scholar," Zagoza said, turning around and bringing with him two ceramic cups. "Ain't as good as those cafes, I assure you, but it works."

"Ah," Andrado nodded. "Thank you," he rose to his feet and accepted the cup. The warmth felt good in his hands, and he clutched it close to his c.h.e.s.t.

There was a small coffee table in the balcony. Zagoza invited him there, and he obliged. He was in awe of how kind the civil guard is here. Then again, having a lot of money tends to do that to people.

The coffee table was low, and they only had wooden stools to sit on. "Sorry for the lack of uh-"

"I-It's okay," he said, and he sat on the stool. The man's laundry prevented him from seeing anything much past the balcony.

"Alright then," he said, shrugging as he took on the stool. To the far side of the balcony, Andrado noticed a wooden easel, canvas-less, leaning against a corner. Andrado took a sip, and then turned to Zagoza.

"You are an artist?"

Zagoza was in the middle of sipping his coffee when he said that. He blinked, went, "Hm?" and then it took a minute before the realization hit him. "Ah, no I'm not." He shook his head and put down his cup. "That's… that's nothing." He chuckled.

"You dream of becoming an artist, then?"

"I do artistry in my spare time," Zagoza said, shrugging. "It's fun, and it lets me express myself. Being a civil guard for a couple of years now, it helps alleviate the things you go through when you have somewhere to let it out."

"Ah, I agree! I can relate." Andrado nodded. "I play music back in Phaedrus myself. I now regret that I have not brought any musical instrument with me."

"Ah, pity."

"Aye. It is indeed. I've been curious – are you of any noble blood?"

Zagoza raised an eyebrow at that. "What makes you say that?" Andrado shrugged. The guard chuckled lowly. "Zagoza ib Calfa. As you can see, I am not of noble blood. In fact, I'm a lowly cativae."

Andrado replied, "I do not consider cativae lowly." Zagoza scoffed at that, shaking his head and sipping.

"How about you?"

"Andrado de Vergilus," he said.

"'De?' So you are not Firstborn?"

The scholar shook his head. "That title belongs to my eldest brother, Haysus ib Vergilus."

"Ah. Right. Is… Haysus a scholar as well?"

Andrado shook his head. "He's a general in the Legions, actually. A centurion."

"Ah. Must be a great honor."

"Yeah," said Andrado. "For him."

They quieted down again, sipping on the coffee. The morning air was chill, and the sun was reaching its zenith climb. "Is it nearing noon?"

"Aye," answered Zagoza. "The Captain should be here soon. Another trip to Kundang's you see."

"Ah, right, right. The boy."

"Aye," said Zagoza. "So we wait. There should be a kalesa coming by soon with him and Dasio. Oh, right – I've brought bread. Pardon me for being so numbskulled." He rose to his feet and walked back into the room, and came out with a basket full of round bread. "Pandesal," he said.

"Much thanks." Andrado got a piece and tore at it with his hands. He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth, and then drank a gulp of coffee to down it. He hadn't realized he had been so hungry.

Andrado watched Zagoza tear the pandesal in half, and then dip one half of it into the coffee, tainting it brown, and then eating it. The scholar raised an eyebrow, the officer chuckled. "It's a neat little trick I learned from the natives here," he said. "They dip everything into everything. Did you know they pour coffee onto rice dishes?"

Andrado blinked. "Why? For what?"

"It adds a soup layer over the rice, and then they can just eat the coffee-covered rice like any other meal."

"Wouldn't those… clash?"

"It doesn't taste bad, no," said Zagoza, smiling again as he did that dipping maneuver once again. "Try it. Don't dip it too long, though or it'll become too soggy. Have to find a nice balance."

Andrado smiled, sighed, and nodded. He took a piece of bread and tore it in half, and then dipped the half. He shoved it into his mouth. The coffee-flavored bread did, in fact, taste nicely enough. It turned the hard bread into a warm, flavored bread.

They carried on with their breakfast for a few more minutes in almost total silence, as if revering the act of eating food as a sacred ritual. Eventually, right as Andrado sipped on his coffee one last time, there was a knock on the door.

"Must be Dasio," said Zagoza as he ran over and opened it. On the other end was, indeed, Citro and Dasio, both in their uniforms.

"Is the scholar ready?" Andrado heard Citro ask. The scholar rose to his feet and walked over to him.

"I am," he said.

"Good. We go to Kundang's brothel once again."

"The most times I've gone to a brothel," said Andrado. He reached back in and grabbed his leather satchel, making sure the small amount of things he still had were inside.

Citro raised an eyebrow at that, and grinned. "Getting comfortable with us, eh, scholar?"

"Sure," said Andrado, as they walked out of the room and down the stairs.

* * *

Andrado followed Citro, Zagoza, and Dasio into one of the rooms in the third floor. This particular room was near to the office of Kundang, and his Painted Men were standing guard on either side of the door.

Within, the boy sat on a bed, drinking a cup of water. He had been cleaned, his dark skin still dark like mahogany, his horns still atop his head. He wore that dark hooded tunic once again. When they entered, he turned up and looked at them, before immediately turning away. His eyes flared yellow.

Dasio was the last one in. He closed the door behind him as Citro walked up to the boy. The Captain pulled up a chair next to his bed, while the boy moved away from him, pressing his body against the wall.

The room became silent. On the way to Kundang's place, the bustle of the city was a somewhat comforting melody that filled Andrado's senses. The smell of perfume and beasts and fish and the salty sea breeze all mixed together. The shouts of vendors, the occasional dancing flute tune as they passed by an open salon, the grinding of wooden wheels against wide cobblestone streets. The vast blue sky, cloudless and bright, burning against him in this warmer weather than Phaedrus, albeit not by much.

Now, in this room there was sudden silence, almost deafening Andrado. The window had been closed shut, not letting in any of the windy circulation that a room in Selorong would usually have. The sun was bright, but there were white curtains that prevented most of it from penetrating the room. Dust motes hung in the air, almost completely stagnant and unmoving.

And in the middle of it all, was a silent boy. This silent boy wearing a hood to hide his unnaturality.

"Kawatan," Citro's voice echoed. The walls and the floor of the room were dark brown, lending an almost sepia tone to the air, intermixed with the floating dust motes.

The door opened behind Andrado, and in stepped Elona. "I must speak for the boy," she said. She laid a hand on Andrado's shoulder, and then walked past him, Dasio and Zagoza, sitting beside the boy on the bed. She said something in Liwayan, but the boy did not answer.

She said something again, softer this time, and the boy nodded his head slowly. Wicks of fear still danced within his eyes.

Citro breathed. "Do not be afraid. We will not harm you." Elona worked as a translator, changing the words into that Liwayan language, a language that resembled the whispers of the trees yet also the roar of elephants.

The boy didn't respond.

"What are you?"

The boy shrugged.

Zagoza decided to hang back and lean against one of the walls. He unsheathed a blade to his side and checked the edge.

"Is your name Kawatan?"

He nodded.

"Okay, Kawatan," he said. "We'll take this nice and slow. Do you have a family?"

Kawatan shook his head. "He doesn't remember," said Elona.

Andrado blinked, his eyebrows going up into a concerned arc for the boy.

"Okay," said Citro. "Do you come from a barangay?"

The boy paused.

"It's alright, we won't hurt you."

The boy bit his lip and then said, "Barangay Talalisi."

Citro nodded. All this time he sat hunched forward, focused on the boy. Now he pulled back, leaning back on his chair. "Ah, Talalisi. I see. That's near here."

The boy looked down again, away from Citro. The Captain turned around to the boy. "The boy's just an urchin. But there's something weird going on with his… being." He turned around to him. "I have to bring him to the Magi."

Andrado furrowed his eyebrows and lurched forward. "Magi? Wizards?"

Citro turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. "What do they call the smart men and arithmeticians in Phaedrus, scholar?"

"Oh, well, natural philosophers, sir. Savants, officially."

"We call them Magi here in Selorong, scholar."

Andrado relaxed his shoulders. Still raising an eyebrow and tilting his head to one side, he said, "Magi have… bad connotations, Citro. They are seen as dark magicians. Destroyers of Yavum's Creation – Light. Thus, why we use the term Savants."

Citro shrugged. "Magic and science. What separates them, really?" The Civil Guard Captain sighed. "Don't answer that. You're a scholar. You would undoubtedly have many opinions on the matter. But no, they do not cast spells from dark forces. We have a Magian Society here, in Selorong. They work officially in the same manner as the Savants back in the Empire. They are men of science and alkymy, studying the natural world and learning more about it. Pardon me, but we do officially call them Savants here. It's just that everyone else calls them Magi."

"Ah," Andrado nodded, licked his lips. "So, you want to take –" he glanced at Kawatan, "the boy to the Magian Society?"

Citro nodded. "I would like to know about his… condition."

Andrado nodded. "Very well. Have you turned around to confer to me something?"

The Captain grinned at that. "I have. You still have missing items, yes?"

"I do," said Andrado, swallowing a bit. But I don't exactly want you to know what they are.

"What are these items?"

Oh, by Yavum's Great Beard.

"A few… writing implements. And a journal? And some gold would be great. Uh, but I might be forgetting. Please, let me."

Citro raised an eyebrow. "You speak Liwayan?"

"A bit." He turned to Elona and said – in very choppy Liwayan – to ask where he brought the other items within his leather satchel.

The boy didn't wait for Elona's translation. He spoke something, and Elona said, "It is with the Datu, in Talalisi."

Dammit. Andrado weighed his options. He couldn't let go of that elderwood wand – that was highly expensive, and his mark of prestige among the Jeremians. It was also his implement for conducting miracles, but there was no way he could disclose this information with the Civil Guard. It wasn't called the Clandestine Jeremian Order for nothing.

He thought quick, and then decided to say, "Then I would need you, Kawatan, to come with me to the barangay."

Elona blinked. After a beat, she told Kawatan what Andrado had said. Kawatan looked up at him, and shook his head. Fear in his eyes.

Citro tilted his head. "So, you really do need those implements, aye?"

Andrado nodded. "Like you said, I was a scholar, after all."

"I can adjust well enough," said Citro, shrugging. "You can go with the thief to his barangay, but bring him back to me. We need to know what he is exactly."

"Fair enough," said Andrado, shrugging. "All I really need are my implements, after all, to be able to go about my way. I still do not have that permission grant to the Governor-General, which rests within one of my journals."

Citro nodded. He rose to his feet. "I will leave this matter to you. Do you require the aid of any of my officers?"

Andrado licked his lips, and shook his head. "No. I won't. But perhaps I can ask the help of Elona from Kundang."

And – as if fate had guided the course of actions – Kundang walked in, opening the door just wide enough for him to pass through. "What's the situation?"

Citro turned to the Criminal King. "The boy… I need to take him to the Circle of Scholars building."

Kundang raised an eyebrow at that. "You want the boy studied?"

"Look at him, Kundang."

"He is anakyawa."

Citro froze. "What?" Andrado could see Kundang's sweat glistening on his brow. "What did you say, Kundang? What did it mean? How did you know?"

Kundang turned to the boy, even snuck a glance at Andrado, before turning to Citro. "The boy is anakyawa. Demonspawn. And one only need to see his horns for confirmation of that."

Citro's eyes were incomprehensible, one part looking for something within Kundang's face, and another part conflicted by himself. His gaze swept the room as he turned around to the boy, but stopped at Andrado. "You need the boy, right?"

"I do." Yet Andrado wondered what had caused Citro to shift so easily.

"Fine. Bring him back to me afterwards. That was the deal." He shot Andrado a gaze, expecting a response. That fearful, warlord gaze. Andrado nodded. With that done, Citro turned to Kundang. "Lakungdulan. The scholar requires the aid of your woman warrior."

Kundang raised an eyebrow. "Elona, specifically?" He turned to Andrado.

Andrado shrugged. "If it can be arranged?"

The Criminal King turned to look at Citro, and the captain moved with the slightest of movements. Kundang sighed. "Fine, sure. Make sure she's back safe."

"Excellent," said Andrado.

He turned to Elona, and saw her c.a.r.e.s.sing the boy's back, who was crying.

* * *

As they walked out, Zagoza and Dasio talked to each other. Dasio whistled. "Scary."

"Captain must have a thing against demonspawn."

"Who doesn't?" He asked. Andrado realized now the levity of what exactly it meant that they had a demonspawn amidst them. Can demonkind actually breed with them, mortals? Humans?

Yavum spoke of demonkind, surely. They were said to have lived "Below". Most people assumed that to be some sort of undergound realm of some sort, exactly like how Yavum resided past the Firmament, in Empyrea.

"Well apparently, the woman that decided it a good idea to f.u.c.k a demon?" Dasio said.

"Perhaps she was r.a.p.ed," said Andrado behind the two of them. Citro walked out first and turned around right as he reached the stairs long before the rest of them did. "You can find me in the Civil Guard Office. Be quick." And then Citro walked down and out.

Dasio grimaced. "What's gotten into him?"

Zagoza only watched intently as his captain walked down and out. "Perhaps…"

"Maybe some personal anger against demonkind?" said Andrado and as he did, he performed the holy gesture of Yavum, making that star across his c.h.e.s.t with all five fingers and uttering a quick prayer to ward off evil.

Dasio raised an eyebrow as he did that. Behind the three of them, Kundang's voice bellowed out. "Scholar. Come here before you depart."

Andrado raised an eyebrow to Dasio and Zagoza, but Zagoza nodded for him to go ahead. The scholar inhaled and thanked them, before turning around and walking into Kundang's room.