Philippine Speculative Fiction Volume 1 Read online

Aranas nodded. “You can’t escape your destiny, and I’m here to make sure that happens. If you agree to find the Incarna, then I’ll make sure that nobody has to suffer the same futility that you have. No one else has to watch their friends die, and no one else has to make unnecessary sacrifices to stop the Sundering.”

  Garret shook his head. “That’s too big a promise, Aranas. You’re putting all your plans on one man. Why?”

  “Because I trust my magic the same way you trust your sword, Coward,” Aranas said. “It has never failed me, and it will not lead me astray now.”

  Garret looked down at his hands, wondering if he still had it in him to do something of this scale. “What’s in it for me?”

  “Gold, perhaps? Gems the size of your fist? Some land and a title?” Aranas said. “The Council can be very generous to those they choose to reward.”

  Garret thought about it. He needed the money. Ever since he gave up being a soldier he had been living off on his savings. Now that the Vale was gone, there was even less for him to live on. He tried making a living as a carpenter but couldn’t make a decent chair even if his life depended on it.

  He looked up from his drink. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Excellent,” the wizard nodded. His eyes lost their eerie glow as he reached into his pack, taking out a scroll case and handing it to Garret. “Here.”

  The Coward took the scroll case, looking it over. It was a beautiful scroll case, ornately decorated leather with a clasp made of silver. The seal on the cap was that of the Wizard’s Council. Garret opened it, taking out a roll of parchment. “What’s this?”

  “Just a few instructions that might help you along the way.”

  “Instructions?” Garret frowned. “It reads like it was written by a delusional scholar looking for prophecies from the sounds of a farting cow!”

  “True, it was written in a rather cryptic fashion…”

  “Cryptic. Right.”

  “Just keep the damned thing,” Aranas hissed. “It’s supposed to help you find the Incarna. I’m not too clear on how it’s supposed to do that, but it will.”

  “That’s what I don’t like about you Wizards,” Garret sighed. “One moment you’re all ‘I trust my magic like you trust your sword’, the next it’s ‘I’m not too clear on how it’s supposed to do that, but it will.’ ”

  “Stop that,” Aranas snapped irritably. “I’ll point out that I did mention that I trusted my magic, as you so clearly quoted.”

  “So you’re saying that you don’t really think these instructions are all that accurate.”

  “I’m saying that they’re open to interpretation.”

  “Fine,” Garret said, as he slid the scroll back into its case.

  Aranas let out a long sigh; this was more tiring than he thought it would be. “The last thing I’ll give you is this ring.” He held up his hand for Garret to see. The ring was a simple band, inset with a large red gem. Aranas took off the ring and gave it to Garret. “That ring is a little bit more… ahem, idiot-proof.”

  Garret looked as if he was going to say something but decided against it.

  “Let me explain what it does,” Aranas pointed at it. “That ring is enchanted to respond to your presence, as well as the presence of any of the Incarna. Destiny itself gathers in your life threads, marking you as having a greater destiny than most men.”

  “So it finds people with great destiny?”

  “Not really,” Aranas said. “If you concentrate on it, it will show you if there’s an Incarna nearby. I believe that it has the range of a small town.”

  “But it doesn’t tell me how near or far that person is…or even which direction to look.”

  “Correct.”

  “That’s just sad.”

  “I’ll make sure to pass on your comments to the Spirit Smiths,” Aranas said dryly. “They so enjoy receiving criticism for making items out of their own life force.”

  Garret leveled a glare at Aranas. “They could have at least put a little arrow to tell me which direction to go.”

  “Ah, but they rely on you, Garret,” Aranas smiled. “You’re the arrow. Your destiny will guide you to them.”

  Garret frowned, he hated believing in things he could not see or feel, and all this talk about destiny was beginning to annoy him. He wanted to walk away from it all, but he had already agreed to the job. He was a man of his word or at least, he’d like to think that he was.

  “Sounds pleasant,” Garret said bitterly, tossing the ring on the table. “Should I expect any kind of resistance? I’d like to know what I’m up against before I go traipsing around the wilderness like an idiot.”

  Aranas nodded. “Some doomsday cults might get in your way, but only if they realize what you’re doing.”

  “I see,” said Garret.

  “Once you find all the Incarna, I will know,” Aranas continued. “The ring will tell me.”

  “Convenient.” Garret finished off his ale. “It’s a fool’s errand, chasing after people I will have no way to identify while I race against the Sundering.”

  “Perhaps,” Aranas said. “Or maybe it’s just because the Council has faith in you.”

  “Faith? Well, let’s just hope it’s enough.”

  “It will be,” Aranas said, as he stood. “It’s time for me to go, Garret. Good luck finding the Incarna.”

  Garret didn’t reply, watching as the old man made his way out of the Rosy Barmaid.

  “Damn it Garret, how the hell do they get you into these things?” He berated himself as he finished his beer, his eyes coming to rest on the ring.

  “Your hero days are over, and you’re nothing more than a common man in a bar, and now they’re dragging you out to do the hero thing again.” He reached out for the ring, looking at it intently. “Can you really do this?”

  He rubbed it between his thumb and index fingers, feeling the band. “Ah, to hell with it… at least the money’s good.” He finished his beer with one swig, trying to deny the excitement building inside him. Memories of his triumphs and the thrills of his victories threatened to override his reason, a small smile coming to his lips.

  Garret took a deep breath, as he slipped on the ring, feeling its magic alter its shape, the band fitting itself on his finger perfectly.

  Destiny was taking hold.

  PAULINE ORENDAIN

  ROOM THREE

  Pauline Orendain dabbles in photography, copywriting, web and graphic design, parenting and fiction. Her articles and photos have previously been published in The Philippine Daily Inquirer, The Manila Times, and The Philippine Star. Currently, she is most comfortable foraging nuts and berries and unearthing arrowheads, peyote buttons, and ancient cooking pits in the American wilderness with husband, Dino, and four-year-old son, Dylan.

  ”Room Three” shows what happens after the bell tolls... and before the gates open.

  LEONIDAS BEGAN TO feel the scorching heat in between his toes and on his face as the flames licked around his immense, supine, immobile body. The first thought that came to his mind was, Somebody better help me up before I become chicharon, man!

  Charon stood next to his shoes, crookedly bent over, with arms folded across his chest, eyes rolled up to the ceiling of the crematorium furnace.

  “What do you want?” Charon sighed as he spoke. He looked down, impatient or bored, Leonidas could not tell. He gave a yawn that was barely visible through the grizzle of white hair around his lips and cheeks.

  “Who are you?” Leonidas was baffled by the sudden appearance of the bent old man in the chamber, and by the sound of his own voice which he hadn’t heard since his last gurgling breath at the hospital bed.

  “I’m Charon. And it’s pronounced ka-ron, by they way, not ‘charon, man!’” Charon rolled his eyes again.

  “What’s up with you? Why don’t you help me up instead then, hey? Before I get charred, Cha-ron!”

  Charon threw out a skinny arm to Leonidas and the flames died out around them. It was pitch
black and as Leonidas took his first step in many days, there was the crunching noise of pebbles. As they walked in the dark, a light began to gleam and sparkle up ahead. They stopped to wait. The light grew larger as it slowly progressed towards them. Leonidas began to make out the shapes in the dark; an empty boat came into focus and it seemed they were standing on the bank of a river, although the water did not rush or make a sound.

  “That’ll be three coins, since I had to personally pick you up.” Charon held out his thin hand. Leonidas patted himself down. He came up with a cigar, a wedding favor, five perfectly rolled joints and some matches.

  “I don’t got anything, man. Puta! I don’t have my wallet!”

  Charon stood looking at him, impatient this time. “You’re not going anywhere then.”

  “Where am I supposed to be going? And where the hell am I anyway?” Leonidas continued to pat himself down.

  Charon was silent for a minute. “We’re at the left bank of the Styx and according to the book you are not supposed to be here yet. I don’t know why you even called.”

  “I didn’t!” Leonidas continued to search his inside jacket pockets, still flustered with the absence of his wallet and flustered with the way his suit fitted at the moment.

  “You did indeed!”

  “I said chicharon, man! Loco, ka, ah? (“You’re crazy!”) Who the hell are you?” Leonidas finally stopped groping around for his wallet and was getting ready to roll up his sleeves and ball up his fists when Charon said calmly, “My name seems to cause much confusion among your race. And please do not use that word so freely.”

  “What?!”

  “It will soon be your place of torment – most likely.”

  “Ano ...?” (“What … ?”)

  Leonidas suddenly felt hot and sweat beads broke across his forehead. He loosened his tie and looked down at his gray pinstripe suit. He wondered why it felt so odd and why he was wearing the suit it was so damn hot and humid. Then he noticed around his neck dangled a dog tag. He picked it up and imprinted on it was a picture of himself with his three boys. It was the eldest boy’s graduation. He remembered that day back in July. They had all gone out for Chinese buffet afterwards where he gorged on snails and crab legs. He began to feel hungry. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He tried to focus, to remember what he was doing last, before the fire. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, and as he did so, his pants slipped down his waist. He gave it an upward tug and realized his belly was gone. He patted himself down again and felt spare; only half there. It puzzled him, but all he could think of was his growing hunger and how a juicy slab of steak would just hit the spot. He decided he should eat first before trying to think about the river, the boat, and his shrunken waist.

  “Hey man, got a diner or something around here?”

  “Unless you’ve got something to pay for it, you won’t be getting any food for the next millennium.”

  “Look, I don’t know what I’m doing here or how I even got here. I’d call my wife to pick me up, but I don’t seem to have my cell phone, or anything else on me. I just need a bite to eat, then I’ll be able to think properly, or even remember. Hell, I’ll even wash some dishes for a sandwich!”

  “Everyone goes through the disorientation. Reality will hit you in a short while, once we can get on that boat and take you where you really need to be.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have my wallet, my phone – my car keys – where the hell is my car? I can’t tell you where I’m supposed to be going, or pay you.”

  “Would you please stop using that word? I’ll take you where you need to be. Payment doesn’t have to be in cash.”

  Leonidas instinctively patted himself down again. His watch jangled loosely on his arm and he pulled up his sleeve. His arm was thin and emaciated. He wondered how he had gotten so thin. He really must not have eaten in weeks. He took off his watch.

  “Is this O.K.? For the boat?”

  Charon took the watch and looked discerningly.

  “Seikos aren’t worth much you know. Didn’t you ever own a Rolex? They fetch more at the Junction. I’ll have to get a valuation on this. You’ll have to wait.”

  Charon floated onto the boat and it started moving away. The darkness crept back in, blinding Leonidas as he stood alone in the pitch black.

  “Hey! Are you stealing my watch? Motherfucker! Come back here!”

  Leonidas was hotter than ever, fuming at having lost the watch, or perhaps it was fright that struck him, being alone in the dark. He took off his coat, slowly crouched to the ground and sat on the loose pebbles. After a while, the silence and the darkness became too much. He decided to light a joint.

  When Leonidas came to, it was still black and the faint smell of the marijuana lingered. He again tried to remember before the fire and before Charon, but nothing came. He closed his eyes, trying to search his fuzzy mind.

  “You’re lucky. Someone fancied your watch. We can go now.”

  Leonidas jumped. Charon and the boat had returned without a sound.

  “And where’s that?”

  “To Hades, of course. It’s no guarantee you’ll get in beyond that. But I suppose that is where you’re supposed to be. Your name isn’t anywhere so you’ll have to wait there until it’s decided.”

  “Hades? The Underworld…Hell you mean?”

  “Not exactly. You’ll wait it out there until They confirm that you are indeed going to Hell. Or elsewhere if you’re rarely lucky.”

  “They? Who they?”

  “The judges. I’m sure you have a case. Your name isn’t listed anywhere. Not metaphorically up, nor down – you are in a word, hanging – by a thread. Snip-snip!” Charon managed a low chuckle as he motioned a cutting action with his two fingers.

  Leonidas reeled. It must be a dream. He needed to wake up. Move a leg. A finger. Just a centimeter. Damn it, move! he thought. But as he swung his arms around him and jiggled his leg, he was still at the same spot he was a moment ago: in a dark empty place with an old scrawny man waiting by a boat and a lamp.

  “What on Styx are you doing?”

  “Trying to wake up. This shit is weird, and I’m going to wake up, have some longganisa, fried rice and eggs, and play Warcraft online for a couple of hours.”

  “Well, that isn’t going to work is it?”

  Leonidas began to jump up and down, then again tried any vigorous movement that would usually wake him out of his nightmares, but to no avail. Then he tried to scream. But his bellowing became a low growl.

  “Oh, will you please keep it down?!” Charon was growing irritable. “Just get in the damn boat will you? I’ve got other appointments to keep as you’re not the last fool in the world.”

  Leonidas grew hoarse. He finally stopped. He felt like he had been hit by a moving Escalade. He felt as if his breath had stopped short, but he wasn’t even breathing. He took his pulse. Nothing. He fell to the ground as he thought his limbs had weakened and realized what had happened. It was true. He was dead.

  Charon’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Ah, here we go. First it will be denial, then recollection, then anger, then grief, then…”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Leonidas’ voice was shaky as the tears streamed down his face profusely. “I’m fucking dead! And where the hell am I? Getting ready to ride a fucking barge to Hell’s waiting room. Fucking funny, Cha-ron.”

  “If you’re finished with your twelve steps, we can get a move on then.”

  Defeated, Leonidas put on his coat and followed Charon to the boat. Despite being only half his weight now, his six-foot frame still swayed Charon and the boat violently as he moved onto the rickety wooden planks.

  He stared into the lamp. “This is fucking great. What about all the anointing, the prayers, the novenas – I’m sure as hell they did the novenas. I’m sure my wife made sure of that.” Leonidas sniffed and wiped his tears with the back of his hands.

  Charon was all cheered up. “Humans are always so confid
ent aren’t they? Prayers aren’t the answer to everything.”

  Leonidas sat on the floor of the boat with his head hanging down as he began to recall the last two painful weeks that he suffered through the dizziness and nausea of the chemotherapy. He remembered that he could barely keep his food down, despite all the delicious outpourings from friends and family: puto, sinigang, manggang hilaw, siopao, and on, day after day. He felt the pangs of hunger again in the pit of his stomach. He felt he could eat an entire lechon.

  “So, you think I’ll find some food where we’re going?” Leonidas had perked up and was hopeful.

  “If you should be so lucky. I’m surprised they didn’t send you off with any. Perhaps that’s the Chinese.”

  Then they were silent for a long time. Leonidas was lost in thought about his final moments on earth. He was fighting the tears again when the boat bumped to a stop. Leonidas stood to see where they were, and his breath, if he still had been breathing, would have stopped. The darkness had opened up and there rose before him an endlessly rising jagged mountain with a black, gaping hole. All was silent, unmoving, uninviting. A little fear crept inside him as his hair stood on end.

  “Well, here we are,” Charon spoke as he floated onto the bank. Leonidas followed, still agape at the sight before him.

  “Through there,” Charon pointed at the black hole that served as entrance to the jagged mountains. “Watch out for the dog.”

  Here, the sky was a strange fiery twilight; streaks of orange and purple slashed through and left shredded ribbons of cloud. Leonidas took hesitant steps toward the infernal black hole. He couldn’t decided which was more frightening – the mouth of the cave he was headed for or the portentous firmament of this unknown world. Charon motioned for Leonidas to continue as he began to fade away into the darkening distance. Leonidas stood still for a while pondering. He tried to reason through his fear: what could happen? Fuck, I’m dead already! He brought back his audacity, took one step forward and then stopped. Random thoughts of torture dropped into his head: What if they put a million hooks through my loose skin and pull it off? What if they force-feed me maggots until I vomit for days? What if… A deep snarl emanated from the opening.