Part 2

This is at current the final part of my fanfiction. I have no plans of revisiting the fanfiction in the near future.However the possibility of returning to it is still open.

The Sound of Silence

The sun was setting behind the azure ocean that lapped at the shores of Baia, sending rays of orange and red that merged together, filling the sky with a glorious sunset. The hustle and bustle of the local market, the sound of cartwheels and the haggling of street vendors echoed across the valley. The pungent aroma of a nettle and blackberry infusion wafted through the evening air, masking the brine and stench of fish. The glowing light of dripping candles warmed the windows of the port, the twinkling lights reflected in the green waters of the bay.

On the outskirts of the port, a gleaming white villa looked over the fishing village, old and proud and silent. An old man, wizened with age, sat down on the porch, crooning softly to himself, his spectacles misted up as tears dripped down from the end of his crooked nose. Suddenly he stood up and strode off into the distance, aware of the terrible peril about to befall his home, yet unwilling to help them. Octaboona disappeared in a wreath of shadows, never looking back at his home of eleven centuries.

♦ ♦ ♦

Kenspeckle Grouse fled from the port of Baia, the final words that he yelled at his brother resounding in his mind.

“You’re a failure. All that you do is worthless. You even failed at the most important task of your life. You were unsuited to be the Death Bringer. You failed the Passage. Our sister is dead. And you are solely responsible for that. If you weren’t so useless at your life then Elocin would still be alive!”

Kenspeckle didn’t care anymore. The weight of his depression laid upon him like a burden.

Yet it still was unable to quash his arrogance. He was dangerous. Still able to create terrible things yet no feeling for the effect it could cause. He knew some poor fool would pick up the Engine yet he didn’t care. He had created the most sought after object in magic science theory. Time to move on.

♦ ♦ ♦

A young child was playing in the middle of the town square when something caught his attention. He looked at the stone hourglass curiously, laughing at the bubbles in the pretty green liquid. He picked it up and squealed joyfully when the liquid turned red.

“Mama, mama! Look! It’s so beauti-”

The boiling red liquid evaporated becoming a sphere of roiling red energy that quickly expanded vaporising the toddler in seconds, his cry of delight cut off instantly. The stone cobbles of the square turned to dust, and the tall pine trees that surrounded it, withered and died when the energy struck them. The cheerful bustle of the marketplace was replaced by a cacophony of screams as the flesh was boiled off the bones of the people, which themselves were carbonized. The wooden buildings of the port burst into flames, snuffed out and obliterated by the ever expanding ball of death.

The parchment on the door of the villa disintegrated into nothing, the golden ink fading away, as the energy ripped through the ancient building, shattering glass and crumbling stone. The sound of the ocean evaporating, and the sizzle of dead fish was lost in the billowing clouds of steam that filled the air, blotting out the stars.

Every blade of grass, every stone, person and building, every living thing, every morsel of Baia was obliterated by the scarlet storm contained in the small stone hourglass.

♦ ♦ ♦

Oisin emerged from his bedroom, and walked along the beach, robe dishevelled and mumbled under his breath.

“The others knew I was best suited for the job. Who discovered the first texts on The Ancients? I did! Who knows more about the Sceptre, since the time of the Ancients and certainly more than my colleagues? I believe that would be me! Who can quote directly from the texts? I can! And who did they vote for? Him, that’s who, embarrassing, quite frankly. I was the only one who voted for me. I told them didn’t I? I told them I could do it. Just before we voted I said I wouldn’t talk too much and I would answer who ever asked me a question instead of asking them questions of my own. Curious old Oisin they called me. He’d ask so many questions about them that he’d be useless. The poor people wouldn’t get a word in edgeways!

That’s what they said.  But I can be useful whilst asking them a few questions. Friendly interest I call it. I mean it’s down right rude not to ask what century they’re from. Or what language, they speak. I’ll still have plenty of time. But no. They gave the echo stone to him.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

A cunning old grin broke out on Oisin’s face. “Or at least they would if I hadn’t taken it first” he chuckled gleefully. Oisin looked down at the small blue gemstone, that he held in his hand. Formerly translucent it was now the darkest indigo, a sign that a consciousness was contained with in it.  After sleeping with it by his side for three days, Oisin was feeling groggy and wanted to clear his head.

“And nobody thinks of old Oisin. It’s my birthday tomorrow. How about that. Absolutely marvellous. It’s my 500^th birthday too. But will anyone get poor Oisin a gift? Wish him many happy returns? Perhaps even smile? Well of course they wouldn’t would they. Just spends all his time looking at his texts, they say. Well they’re jealous obviously. Didn’t want me to get all the fame and glory. But a little appreciation would be nice. Not too much obviously. They’d never go that far. Oh well” he sighed.

Oisin stared mistrustfully at the ocean. “I don’t trust boats. If nature had intended us to travel across water, we would have been provided with fins. And fish, nasty little creatures. All wet and gloomy. Who’d want to be a fish?  They taste absolutely horrific too. All damp and fishy.” Oisin moaned. “Bad luck boats are” he muttered.

“And look at the red glow on the water. Bound to be trouble. It’s a sign I tell-”

The red energy blasted Oisin into atoms and started to retract, the hand that clutched the echo stone fell to the ground, just outside of the Desolation Engine’s deadly radius, cauterised by the very energy that had obliterated the rest of Oisin.

♦ ♦ ♦

The mortals never found out how the port of Baia was lost, with only a circle 200 metres wide of barren ground in its place, the ash of the once vibrant port scattered on the wind. And all that remained was a small stone hourglass in the very epicentre of the devastation, its calm green liquid bubbling away.

And Kenspeckle heard of what had happened, how the silence mysteriously fell upon what used to be a little pocket of humanity, and he was delighted. The Desolation Engine had worked exactly as planned; he had proved that he was indeed a genius. And as he laughed at the destruction of Baia, Octaboona wept, for his home was no more and he hadn’t saved one single soul from the terrible chaos and destruction that was the Science of Darkness.