Cursed
Yoshi
Chapter 54 = Exorcism
Disclaimer: Although all
characters here are of my own invention, the original idea of Yoshies, Birdos,
etcetera, are copyright of Nintendo, and I make no money from writing this.
When
Manny regained consciousness, he found five different Yoshies standing around
him with looks of concern on their faces, three of them wearing the
white-stitched black scarves of the Yoshian clergy, one of which was taking his
pulse. The remaining four had been whispering to each other, but stopped once
his eyes fluttered open and he began to sit up as best he could with his tail
in front of him.
He
had been laid out on several chairs pushed together, and his wounds had been
magically healed leaving only light scars. His sword was back in its sheath,
the blood had been wiped off of his skin, and he felt oddly clean, as though he
had been washed. Looking over to his right, he saw Darkmark laid out on the
altar, but heavy iron chains had also been wrapped around him, firmly pinning
his arms and legs down onto the stone. He was breathing, but struggling, and
the single Yoshi next to him was regarding his body with a look of utter
disrespect and revulsion.
“Why
is he chained up?” Manny asked, gesturing to Darkmark.
“He
is a minion of the darkness… we found their emblem branded upon his arm.” One
of the clergymen answered. “It would be against our teachings not to help him,
but we still do not trust him unrestrained.”
“Also…”
said another, “They will be needed if you will allow us to exorcise him. The
spirit of the Lord of Darkness will not leave the body without a fight.”
Manny
got to his feet and crossed over to Darkmark’s body. “Exorcise him? Will it
hurt him?”
“It
will, but it is better in the long run. We are curious as to why we found the
mark of a convert lower down on his arm, just beneath the mark of darkness…”
The
blue Yoshi turned around and told them, “He has endured much pain and
suffering, much more than any sane person could normally take… but
unfortunately, so short a time after he converted from atheism, it became too
much for him and he snapped… the Lord of Darkness, it seems, branded the mark
upon him himself, for he talks of the God of Death with respect…”
The
three Yoshian ministers nodded their heads slowly. “He can possess minds with
little effort, and often without the victim knowing of this… it is best that we
exorcise him, and separate the Lord of Darkness from this one’s body.”
The
other two Yoshies, apparently just citizens of the city, stepped back as the
three ministers checked Darkmark’s chains, adjusted the gag over his mouth, and
then spread out around the altar. It was made of stone and had a large,
overhanging top, and lying beside it in a velvet-lined box was a copy of the
Fayen, apparently a very old one judging by the hand-carved symbols on the
front and the hard, leather-bound cover upon it, showing signs of age despite
apparent good treatment.
As
Manny looked around more during the short period of silence, it struck him that
the church must have been very old, perhaps one of the first ones ever to be
built out of concrete. The styles of the stained-glass windows depicting the
eight Gods revealed much, particularly that there was an actual picture for
Klashkna’s window, instead of a blank one like many of the newer churches did.
There were the statues of all eight gods as well, and even the many rows of
benches appeared to be very old and well cared for. Torch brackets and candle
stands provided little light compared to the mid-day sun streaming through the
stained glass, and there were even tapestries hung upon the walls, something
absent from the newer churches where they had paintings instead.
The
three priests, one white, one purple, and one green, each placed a hand upon
Darkmark’s struggling form and used the other to pick up long, lit candles,
which they held high above their heads. Chanting slowly in Old Yoshi, they kept
their eyes fixed upon Darkmark the whole time, who stopped struggling in an
attempt to listen to what they were saying.
After
a minute or two, they started to lower the candles, with only one of them
speaking at a time.
“Lhásorr
kso kharsatón.” The green one intoned.
“Vhásin
kso shísayéra.” Chanted the white Yoshi.
“Khágháca
vha básamúr jhór kso tsánoliéra.” The purple
one said, with an air of finality. As soon as he finished speaking, all three
of them turned the candles on their sides and lowered them until the flames
came into contact with Darkmark’s skin…
The
result was an incredible sight that took Manny by surprise. Almost immediately,
all the light in the church from outside vanished, as though the sun had been
extinguished. The three clergymen stepped back immediately, watching intently
as Darkmark began to write, crying out into his gag, while a light, reddish
aura began to take form around him. The aura suddenly separated from his body
in a flash of light, and became a semitransparent image of Klashkna, hovering
in midair and screeching.
“You
may have removed my possession…” he shrieked, his voice echoing off the walls,
“But he is already evil, and already believes he has the power to shape the
future! Just because I am gone…” the image flickered for a moment, then
continued, “…does not mean that he has become good! That mark shall forever
remain on his arm… and he will never forget… who he truly is…”
Darkmark’s
body suddenly convulsed violently, and the chains holding him down snapped and
shattered, scattering fragments across the area around the altar. He flipped up
onto his feet, and Klashkna laughed as he faded out and the light returned to
the church interior, a sound that chilled Manny to the bone.
Then,
Darkmark’s eyes opened, and he looked around in astonishment. He took a step
back and onto the overhanging part of the altar, which did not appear to be
supported, and the entire stone slab tipped over, throwing him off and onto his
back on the floor. It remained at an angle, propped up against the rest of the
altar, and as Darkmark got back to his feet Manny quickly ran forwards to look
inside of what appeared to be a hollow part of the altar.
However,
Darkmark lunged forwards and barred his path, bringing Manny to a dead stop.
“What has happened?” He demanded. “I feel different… what have you done to me?”
“I
did nothing… but the Octotheist priests here helped you… they removed you from the
Lord of Darkness’s possession…”
Manny
held his hands over his face, expecting some kind of retribution, but instead
Darkmark gave a snort followed by a low chuckle. “Well… I suppose I have to
thank you for that… I have learned the part he has had in all of this, all of
the pain we suffered, and I will get him… some day.”
He
stepped to one side and turned around, looking with Manny to see what was
inside of the altar, and they both found a long, glass-plated box, the edges of
which were held together by plates of gold. It took the two of them to lift it,
even with Darkmark’s psionics bulging their arm muscles, and they dropped it
down on the floor next to the altar.
“Nobody
has ever been able to open that.” The green priest said to them. “We’ve kept it
hidden there from the humans who constantly harass us, but none of the honest
Yoshies who come here have ever been able to break the glass or open it
otherwise…”
Despite
being plated with glass, nothing could be seen inside of it, as though there
was a foil of silver on the other side of the glass. Manny spotted a small
plate with Yoshian words carved into it, and began to read it off, following
the carefully carved symbols with his finger.
“The
Sacred Silver Sword of Karlo-Shin, the Third Saviour of the Octotheist
religion, preserved until the might of another of his kind may break the seal…”
He
looked up to Darkmark cautiously. “A silver sword… we should try to get it out
of this case, so that we may use it against that vampire…”
Darkmark
remained silent. He seemed to have already changed a little from being
liberated from possession, but he had definitely not gone back to being Marcus,
and it seemed nothing would ever do that to him. Manny pried at the gold
plating around the case, but there was a spark of purple energy and Manny
quickly took his hands away, blowing on them as he stood back up.
Still
maintaining silence, Darkmark bent over the case and also attempted to pry the
plating loose, with similar results. However, the spark of energy seemed to
sink right into his fingers, and he felt the tiniest charge of psionic energy
within him, giving him pause for thought as he let it discharge back into the
air around him. Looking over his shoulder, Manny and the three scarf-wearing
Yoshies were watching him with interest, an expression of kindness and concern
plain upon the faces of the three clergymen.
Darkmark turned away quickly as a smile crept to his lips, hiding the show of emotion from them. They know I am evil… and yet, they care not about it. All they care about is that I am one of them, a Yoshi, and they wish no harm to come to me, no matter my beliefs or ethics… I must admire them for that. No human would have such an attitude…
He
bent down again, this time over the copy of the Fayen next to the altar, and
opened it, being careful with the ancient pages and gingerly turning them as he
scanned the symbols of the Yoshian alphabet for what he wanted… coming, at
last, to the retelling of the legend of Karlo-Shin.
It
spanned for many, many pages, detailing his life and his struggles; that he was
an assassin born to feral parents three years after Vizorvy departed the mortal
realm, receiving his training in the city after his village was attacked and
only a handful of the ferals survived the massacre. He first learned of his
destiny upon achieving the highest assassin rank, tenth level, and soon
thereafter he left on a journey deep into the Koopa lands armed only with his
silver sword -forged by his own hand- and his mastery of psionics.
After
many more pages, many of them written by Karlo-Shin himself, Darkmark learned
that he had managed to sneak into the palace of the Koopa king and assassinate
him, twice closely escaping from the Magikoopa guards that searched for him
tirelessly, and returned to his guild with proof of his accomplishments.
Unlike
the other saviours, he was not an immediate hero, but he recorded his story,
which soon spread throughout the Octotheists and became a popular legend. One
day, Karlo-Shin sealed his silver sword at the church in the same city as his
guild, and vanished, never to return. The Yoshies said that he had gone back,
seeking adventure, but had encountered a force too strong for him, having left
his sword behind, but regardless, he was officially announced as the third saviour
and his story recorded forever more in the Fayen…
Darkmark
carefully closed the copy of the Fayen; it was such an old copy that it had
absolutely no omissions, including all of the stories, beliefs and rituals
associated with Klashkna. Some slightly newer pages at the very back had been
expertly added, detailing the legend of Sévar, but it was still obvious to
Darkmark that they had not been present when the copy was first produced.
Going
back to the case, Darkmark took the Octagram from his saddlebags, producing
gasps and low whispers from the three churchmen. He placed it gently on top of
the case, then placed both of his hands upon it, and allowed the ether to flow
through him, taking some of it and turning it into psionic energy, which slowly
spread from his fingertips, across the surface of the glass…
With
an ear-splitting, echoing sound, all the panes of glass blew outwards as though
the case had been hit with an explosion, shredding the palms of Darkmark’s
hands and cutting his arms deeply. Lying inside the case was a four-foot silver
broadsword, with the symbol of the Octotheist religion engraved into the end,
and an ornate hilt and handle at the other end. Ignoring the blood and pain,
Darkmark closed his hands around the handle and picked up the sword, noting it
to be remarkably lightweight in his hands, and finding that even the lights of
the candles shone brightly from the polished silver surface of the blade.
Beneath it was a scabbard made out of a hard substance Darkmark could not
identify, but he picked it up as well as the octagram, and rose to his feet
slowly.
Then,
in a blur of movement, he whirled around and thrust the sword downwards,
jamming it through the stone platform upon which he was stood, without damage
to the sword or any large cracks in the stone. Dropping the scabbard, he held
the octagram aloft with the white jewel pointed upwards, and with his other
bleeding hand wrapped firmly around the handle of the sword, he shouted as
loudly as he could in Yoshian, “Meet with me, Lady of War, Goddess of Power!”
The
white jewel began to shine…
To
be continued…