The Domes of Calrathia

Chapter 1: An Astronomer's Exile

Premise:

Banished for the death of his master, a lone Astronomer has set out to deliver a written history of his School to the ancient city of Calrathia, home of all knowledge. None have attempted to cross the frozen wastes in three centuries. And in the bitter cold, worse things than scavengers haunt the desolate trek. 

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Chapter One: An Astronomer’s Exile

Of the men who inhabit the strange lands south of the Great Ice Plain, I was told there are three varieties: the maddened cannibals whose heads are cut in the shape of their hallowed obelisk, the wandering ghost-men who eat nothing and yet still live, and the men of Calrathia, sat huddled in their great domes that are said to be wide enough to encompass cities. 

I, the Astronomer Sirius, having been so recently exiled from my home, belonged to none. Although, it then presently seemed I would die long before encountering any of them. 

The wolf’s jaws splayed open in front of me, snapping with hungry impatience. Saliva and blood and I believe tattered flesh from my leg dribbled out of its sharp teeth. I had my hand around its neck, keeping its snout from sinking into my flesh. Its front paw clawed at my green leather jacket. The other leg was thankfully still, being a stump from some old forgotten injury. 

Glancing to my side, I saw that my sword had fallen several feet away, not that I would’ve been able to wield it in such close quarters. The distraction almost cost me my life as the jaws snapped again, this time grazing against my skin. I barely had the strength to hold up the beast, let alone shrug it aside into the dense brush. With my other hand, I was doing all I could to keep the wolf from ripping into my torso. 

I quickly realized this was a losing battle. The wolf had lunged perfectly, using his weight to slowly tire me out as he must’ve done with other large game. I could see I was fighting a grizzled warrior who had seen many battles, and I was his easy prey. 

Seeing no other option, I let go of the creature’s fore leg and rammed my arm into the wolf’s mouth. The animal sputtered, surprised at this new development. I could see its hungry eyes grow frustrated as it tried to bite down. Its teeth sunk into my arm readily enough, but I would not budge. 

If I felt any pain, I cannot recall any now. Even among the cynics, when presented with death, they will often cry out and beg for survival. The body knows death is unnatural, even if the mind is convinced otherwise. One often finds they will go to extraordinary lengths to live on, and I found newfound strength to continue. 

Its fore paw dug into my chest, tearing through my jacket and finally reaching flesh. I did not slacken my grip. One arm held the beast at bay, and the other slowly choking it. The clawing grew more and more desperate as it realized it could not escape its current predicament. The once hungry eye of the wolf darted around, as if trying to find an escape. 

It didn’t matter. I shoved my arm further down, even with its teeth gouging my flesh. Minutes passed. The beast was malnourished and missing a leg. Had it been a larger animal at the peak of its strength, I would have been bested. However, as it stood, I strangled the wolf until its movements became weakened and finally limp. The warrior’s eye looked at me and accepted his defeat. Still, I did not let go until I felt the heart racing in the beast fall silent. 

My strength finally failed. The wolf fell on top of me and fell to the side. Blood oozed out of my wounds into the snow-laden ground of the forest. The treetops were so thick that I couldn’t see the stars. Even the blank-faced moon was nearly swallowed up. 

I leaned upright and examined my injuries. My leg had suffered a nasty bite wound when the wolf had first attacked me. My ripped trousers were soaked crimson. Similarly, my mangled right arm was not doing so much better. Taking some bandages out of my satchel, I tightly wrapped them around my wounds. As my chest wounds were more superficial, I elected to address them later. 

As I sat there in the reddened snow, the cold began to sink its icy fingers into me. I knew that I could not stay here for very much longer. I intended to have crossed this forest before nightfall, but the terrain became progressively difficult. Large circular valleys carved deep into the rocky terrain, and more than once I had to ford freezing brooks and streams. 

During the day, the land seemed almost serene. During the night, it had turned into a silent, dark wood. It was not safe to stay here. More beasts were prowling, and I was not ready to fight again. Even if I built a fire, I did not trust I would make it to morning. My only hope was the Walled City of Terminus on the other side of the wood, which had been my original aim. I stumbled to my feet and grabbed my meager possessions. Sheathing my sword, I took one last look at the warrior I had slain. 

The beast’s face was calm. It was old and maimed. The tired warrior had given his best, and to die in battle was far better than crawling into a hole to die. He had lived his life well spent. Had the ground not been frozen solid, I would’ve buried him there. Instead, all I could offer him was some snow sprinkled on his furred side. 

I took my leave and continued forward. I trudged up a forested ridge line to chance a better view of the surrounding area. However, the thicket pressed in. My sword caught on branches that reached out like skeletal hands to trap me. The cold now firmly had its grip on me, dragging me down, and I knew it was more than just the sorry state of my clothes. I wondered just how much blood I lost back there. Lifting my arm, I could see the dark red splotches still growing. 

I came to a small clearing and found a large gnarled tree by a small stream. The roots drank from the water, and amongst them was a small alcove. My feet weighed as lead. My back ached. I expected death to come by violence, but here I felt a new terror. I heard a sweet voice from those dark roots, one that whispered me to rest here. 

What was sickening was that the voice was my own. 

Here was my grave. I had travelled from the Plated City of Zodiak, home of the Astronomers. I had vaulted with the Anemoi, going a great distance. I saw the twin ruined towers of Calis and Calix before crossing into this cursed forest. And here I was finally tempted to die. 

I reached into my satchel and brought out the object of my mission. In my hands was a tome gilded with silver and gold. Of the spiraled illustration, the title Historiae Astrologus was emblazoned on the cover. The illuminated manuscript was no less decorated on the parchment. It contained the history of my profession, and it was my burden to take it to Calrathia or to die trying. 

The book felt heavy in my hands, and although I dearly wanted to open it, I did not wish to stain the fine paper with my blood. I held it for a minute or so, remembering Master Rigel’s charge. My name had been struck from every letter, every record, every book—save for this one which had been written when I was just a child. 

Other hands would have to carry it now. The sweet voice was now irresistible. I placed the book back into my satchel and trudged towards my death. Too much had been asked of me. It was too much to ask of any man. But I was grateful that I made it thus far. 

Sleep tugged at me. My vision darkened as I went to go sleep in this cold wood. But as I took the final step to that gnarled coffin, a beam of pristine moonlight cut through those suffocating leaves, and I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. 

Footprints!

The spell was broken. I quickly hobbled over to the tracks. It had not snowed for some time, though from what little I could gather, they appeared fresh. There were two sets of tracks going along the bank of the stream and continuing on the other side. It traveled for a distance before I could see where it went no longer. I was tempted to call out, but I was still wary of alerting more beasts to my trail. My only choice was to follow and hope whoever made these tracks would come to my aid. 

Wounded as I was, my feet were no longer heavy weights but rather became light as feathers. Hope blazed within me, and hope carried me through that dark path. And even if I were fated to die at the end of this trail, my heart still leapt in my chest, and I gave thankful prayers to the Woman of the Morning Star, forever the patron of the School of the Astronomers. Such a gift even the smallest sliver of hope is. 

As I limped through the dark wood, I came to another clearing. This time, a small hill overlooked much of the wood, and embedded in that rocky uprising was a metal door. I knew that bunkers and tunnels crisscrossed this region from a time long before these lands were known for their endless winter. Of those days, men whisper that this world was as one great mass and one great ocean, and humanity feared the beasts that lurked in the wilds. 

There was no sign of life behind the hatch. A thick, dirty block of glass refused to reveal the shelter’s secrets. At the sides were complicated locks bolted shut, and in the center was a rusted locking wheel. In my excitement, I rushed forward to open it, but the rusted wheel refused to budge. I realized that the door must be somehow secured from the inside. Seeing no other choice, I banged on that metal hatch set in the hillside. 

I waited for a minute before I banged again. I howled. I cried. Though men seldom admit grief, I shall not spare my dignity in this account. Despite my temptation at the gnarled tree, now I didn’t want to die, and I wasn’t ready to die. This hatch was my only hope, and I wept at its foot, hoping someone would answer. 

I fell into the snow. My strength had all but left me. In the distance, I heard the howl of a wolf. I fancied it was the ghost of the warrior I had slain. Up and up it went, into the sky, until I could hear it no more. 

Light! Searing light! I had to look away as something lit up in the bunker. I laid there in the snow, as the light was blocked by someone looking through the glass. There was a rumbling on the other side of the door. Slowly, the locks began to click open. There was a rush of warm air, and the figure stepped out into the snow. 

As my eyes adjusted, all I saw was a thick mask that covered most of the head. Two empty holes looked back at me, and near the mouth, two bulbous protrusions wheezed. 

Link to Chapter Two.