The legacy

By Adrián Gonzalez

Thousands of years ago, science let go of man, leaving him one step away from extinction. The world re-emerged from these unequaled beings, with a lost history and the same intelligence, they raised houses and walls. The inheritance of ancient legends were the pinnacle of the ascent, since these wonders created exemplary men, skillful and versatile with just one of them. For centuries the foundations were created between conflicts with these magnificent objects, mistakes and injustices, they would predict wars and a religion angry with the means of exercising the power given by some god. Misguided or not, the differences would lead the continent to tremble once more hand in hand with science and its legacy. The penalties for our beloved Hansa begin upon learning of the loss of the hunter's mask, the only sustenance for the families of his class, where his father loses it in a bet. His mother decides to try to protect the future of her son, working for a strange duke just outside the walls. His little son, with the help of Roni, his best friend, tries to make up for his alcoholic father's big mistake, searching for his only treasure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Aug 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781071538920

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Sunrise rocked his first rays on the long walls, the battlements split them, leaving intermittent orange rays. The light still did not soften the eternal city of Moro. The morning breeze felt better from the tip of the watchtower. The morning breeze felt better from the tip of the watchtower. Neither I would like from the viewpoint, I had to climb high at the border, to the limit. My hands, body and my soul told me that this was the last watch tower that remained in its place even after the catastrophe of the church. The other highest points were in the castle. He rolled his eyes and gazed at this magnificent structure made of stone, wood and iron. The light bordered the huge furrows between each block of stone. He realized that he could climb on it like a strong wind with great difficulty and reach the top of the big tower. The penalty was too risky to try in these times, still had things to lose.

Seeing the dawn again? Roni asked me, with medium

body outside of the lookout.

He was dressed as usual with his grandfather's doublet, already worn, not very colorful, but they gave him greatness. The details they were intact to weigh of the years. The Fleur de lis was embroidered all over the dug of the cloth. He still had the silk cords in the openings of the shoulders and forehead.

Still missing? He proposed another.

It still doesn't appear, I said with a sigh. My mother is thinking about going to the mansion because of the job she was offered.

I slipped from the ledge, hung up, pouncing to fall beside Roni.

Do you know that the royal guard could recover it? It is forbidden by the court to bet on family inheritance masks. The talk spread along the path of the stairs to the streets.

Of course I know, but what do you suggest? What stings my own father?

Isn't it worse for your mother to work?

We descend in the narrow cobbled alley surrounded by huge two and three story houses, all piled side by side. We walk down the street to the west.

I told him for hundred times to take me on a hunt with him. I paused a little before answering. I know it's forbidden too. Continue mockingly,  "by the decree of the King of Moro himself, the settlements must work for their safety and obtaining an income only with the masks of profession.

Ronnie laughed outrageously at hearing my sarcastic thoughts about the king. The fat man who stopped and could hardly speak loudly. It is true that many say they did it by eating a steak.

This would also translate into a place in the head pit, I smiled, nodded and looked sideways in case anyone had heard my fallacies.

We walked a long way in silence, we passed the main square, where the merchants barely raised the post. I felt with my hand the pants pockets ensuring that the three coins were still there. Mom would be waiting for her to bring bottles of fire after class.

They are the last we can afford, I said.

What .... Ronnie asked me at some distance from me.

Bottles of fire, I said, charged with the last three coins.

He crossed one arm behind my back and helped me continue the path to school. At least it was the only thing we could do for now. I only needed a few months for the title of hunter. Once with that role, I could support my family without relying on my father. But, now, it was all black. The title without the mask was obsolete. Like the house without my mother.

If only they had not wasted your talent three years ago.

Don't remind me of that, I closed my eyes to calm the rage, let's go in, the teacher should arrive shortly.

One more delay, Mr. Hansa, and I will deny him the title of a hunter, said Roni, in a high-pitched, high-pitched voice. We smile in accomplice and enter.

The aroma of incense was relaxing. The damp smell of the old wood that barely held for a century. They had made some arrangements to the ceiling, it was no longer raining, the windows were opening again and we had new boards to sit on. More than we could ask for in a school in the slums. Although we all went downtown, it was more than we could ask for for a free establishment.

The inherited names and surnames were left behind when the masks took weight in the work of the world. Now the disciplines were not learned, they were applied through these, you were easier, simpler. Nothing to have pupils for years, train them, feed them, only inherited or built one, depending on how noble or wealthy you were. And boom, you were a fencer, a blacksmith, a hunter or whatever. We grew up like this, but nobody can deny me that I can scale the watchtowers without using one of them. I don't need them, I have strong arms, instinct and experience in every fall. In the eyes of the king, the nobleman, the gentleman, mother, father, teachers, friend, of the world, you need one.

Because of my current position, because of my failure, I craved the opportunity to be a hunter with claws and teeth. I worked hard for it.

Wood screamed when the teacher entered the class. He wore his yellow and brown brial, that meant he had a good day. He used three of them, at least that wise when he gave the class. When I was wearing black, I didn't have to say a word, I had learned it through the bad, many effusive and irritable questions brought me bruises on my hands. The third and last one was the most elegant, red with gold-embroidered flowers, if you didn't analyze it well, even confuse them with gold.

I'm sorry for the delay, he said as he sat down, Cristin shares this, please.

Cristin stood up, took a dozen papers and handed them to each one. I hadn't noticed that the classroom was already full. Roni and I had been the first to arrive.

The title featured one of the most attractive themes the wizards of fire. I hit Roni with my elbow, indicated the title, nodded with a look full of emotion. Ten pages on the boring story of how the fire wizards became rich and now rub shoulders with the Moro nobles. I reread the principle again, mixed the pages effusively and searched for something interesting - really? Nothing about the jars of fire, legendary fighting, epic feats, their masks, how they make that item? - Roni had fallen asleep on the third page. He left a thread of drool when the teacher caught his attention and Roni with eyes closed, tired and dark circles looked at her. I covered my mouth to quell the mocking laugh of the event, although I was in a good mood, it was not good to alter the teacher. Suddenly Cristin raised his hand.

Yes Cristin? The teacher pointed out in a friendly way.

Is it true that they duplicate their macaras without help from the kingdom, is that possible? He asked with a malicious look, as if he already knew the answer, and smiling he prepared a counter answer.

Of course, as they do in the kingdom with all the masks offered, for example: to the army -the teacher's response was rushed, she omitted the tone, confidence and her particular way of Cristin being a bitch.

But isn't it the case that ivory masks cannot be duplicated? He cleared his throat effusively for one of his long smarty speeches, wood, porcelain and iron, are called materials that are still found today, but ivory comes from creatures that have not yet been see again. I am clear that, many royal hunters went out in search of those animals and few came back telling the failure of the king himself - the pause was short, just enough for the teacher to assimilate everything he said, you better than anyone know of those facts do not?

The whole class knew that the late husband of the teacher had led one of those farmhouses that, after spending a decade away from home thousands of miles from the walls of Moro, the hunter himself took his own life. He had sworn to bring at least a piece of the precious material, and not to the king, no, the oath had been to his wife, the now widow, our teacher.

Cristin had not moved away to the point where he wanted to arrive, only that he liked to hurt people with words, and he did so whenever he could indirectly.

The blow was reflected directly on the face of the teacher. His eyes narrowed overflowing with tears, the countenance curled saddening his still young face. He crossed the back of his left hand across his face, drying his eyes.

Indeed, as your father, one of the duplicators has told you, he said in a broken voice, pausing, the ivory masks cannot be duplicated due to their non-existent material. Therefore, the most valuable possessions in the Moro kingdom are the five that they guard. And then what is your question? How do they do that? He intoned his sarcastic voice.

A duplicator? It was the first time I knew something personal about Cristin, we didn't talk much, well almost nothing, it was scary, he had a disturbing look that made you look the other way as you crossed it. I quickly looked at the sustenance for masks - only one - the duplicators rubbed shoulders with the nobles had a high degree of income, but did not treat them as one of them, not even two, like the cavalry.

No, she replied disgustedly, "my question is; Why do they still keep that secret? He crossed his arms with disdain.

You see, the teacher applied her tone as a casual adult - it's called diplomacy, this means we can live in peace, live with other people without killing each other.

The dispute became boring, political, somewhat disinterested to me and it seemed that the rest of the class did not appreciate it either. I admired the movement outside the city. The market was beginning to fill up and again the coins made noises, I put my hand, and there they were. I remembered my mother, my father, my home, I had more problems than trying to copy the masks of the fire mages. Utopia of children, I thought.

The class ended shortly after the teacher, after the dispute with Cristin, told us the story of the fire mages in a summary way. Spreading rather in what the text said. Nothing new to what many of us knew and rumored in the streets. When going out with Roni.

We finally got out of that hell, she said as she stretched out her arms, I had never seen Cristin so stubborn with something.

I've never heard her speak, I replied mockingly.

We laughed as we headed towards the market. The noise began to be heard ten houses away. When we were there, it was almost impossible to listen to each other and we signaled. Roni had gone a hundred times to buy fire bottles for his family and guided me. We crouch between people moving quickly to the north of the market. We passed the salt post and shortly after the smell of vegetables, wild boar, cheese and wine permeated my nose. The aroma was pleasant.

In a more remote position, people towards a straight and disciplined line did not pile up like in the other stores. Nor did he have an awning, and the jars were not stacked in boxes, no, none of that happened since the fire ten winters ago. When half the market was affected losing all its assets, and the tumult was so great, that people imprisoned each other, drowning in smoke, burning, and stepping on. There were injured, dead, and traumatized, many of the latter did not return to the market. One of them was Roni's father. He had lost an arm in that accident, now the kingdom paid for his family until his son could use the inheritance mask. We waited until noon when we were finally in front of the store.

Good morning, I'd be so kind as to give me three jars of fire, I said with you, sure.

Good morning, give me a moment, please. The man got lost behind the counter and shortly left a box covered in the wood. .

It was the same thing my mother said to me - Hansa don't leave the jars together, always keep your distance, the heat could activate them and we would lose everything. They were his words day after day after lighting the fireplace.

As soon as I left the three coins in the wood, the seller very neatly and carefully opened the box. In this there were hundreds of jars. A silk cloth covered them and cushioned the rose between them. He wrapped them in a woolen cloth, squeezed them tightly so they wouldn't collide with each other and handed them to me by hand.

We took the longest path, I didn't want to pass through the crowd of people and catch myself like a torch, better avoid certain risks. I warned Roni with signs.

We resume the original route after making several blocks through the neighborhoods of the nobility, I never liked how they looked at us, always towards the waist. When they identified us as some they put on that face of disgust that I hated so much, they turned to the side and made an unpleasant noise uhm. On the other hand, it was captivating to walk through those places, the fragrances became more pure, aromatic, and fresh. It was the street of perfumes, where the insurance teacher got the incense, every day of different fragrances. That could only allow the four or five, of course, that the teacher was well favored by her position in youth education and supported with aromas for the classroom. Roni had told me that they had a fashion market or something like that, silk clothing that we couldn't afford in our lives.

We had crossed the middle of the road when we found a tumult of people on the main road. This was caused by a street artist, we approached to see the event, it was a pampering: his mask was made of cedar wood and enameled in white. No holes in the eyes, with black contours on their faces and a point down in the middle. A pronounced mouth without emotion also black. And a thin, thin black line like eyebrows. The polished and the enameled white made many people confuse that this piece was made of porcelain.

Few had been the lucky ones to retain the duplicate copies of the mimical mask, that was rare, strange and powerful. If it was used in the traditional way it could cheer up an entire town, but - there is always a, but -, like the people who used it for many other benefits. The power to create temporary invisible objects and criminal minds did not give good results when real jewels began to be lacking. The objects never recovered, although the culprits were discovered, so they hung their bodies a week with the mask on their faces. Then they burned them next to the ephemeral magic of the powerful object.

The artist climbed up an invisible ladder, the vulgar cheered, then threw himself on the floor of the waste, the crowd shocked and when he was saved even touching the ground, they went crazy screaming, and praises. The coins resounded on the floor, rolled towards the artist and he collected them with reverence. It was very common of the black and white mimic to cover the alleys or passages to other streets to avoid not seeing him. With Roni we had learned it badly after hitting an annoyingly invisible wall. Now we just limited ourselves to people, applaud and follow our path.

We watched the show knowingly the routine; The mime made the act of climbing the ladder, then that of the loop catching a beautiful damsel in dress and corset, and finally using his maze, prompting someone to dare to pass it. Of course by the latter, Roni and I already knew that it was impossible, in any case, no matter how much you approached the exit, you would never know if it was or if he put another wall and ended up in a dead end. The reward was obtained during the previous shows and the temptation led to the mistake that ended in the laughter of the entire audience.

It is incredible that a mask is so powerful, only limited by the human mind - I commented to Roni while we all applauded.

It is not so simple - commented a person behind us , the concentration of the mimicry is impeccable, that is why he can perform all his actions with simplicity, he paused looking forward - a single doubt, hesitation or distraction and everything would be nothing .

We looked surprised at that voice, it seemed feminine, we didn't know it because the sun was shining in our eyes and its hood created an impenetrable shadow on its face. What we saw immediately was his hand, delicate, long nails, painted crimson and bright bracers.

See, said the strange woman.

We turned to the mimic who began a fourth act climbing a rope, underneath he had placed a sword pressed by a nearby guard. When he set out to look down, then to the public, and down again - it was part of his theatrical drama - I felt a snap right next to my ear. The mimic who was raised two tall houses covered his face with one arm before the blindness of the reflected brightness. Indeed, his concentration had been interrupted and he fell hopelessly. Everyone turned to the side. There were shouts, shivering, regrets, and nothing happened. His body narrowly avoided the sharp angle of the sharp blade.

I looked over my shoulder and the woman was no longer by my side. I took Roni's shirt and we left the place.

Did you see that?

Yes, it was fantastic, how would he have done it?

It almost kills him and you are fascinated? I asked in an outburst of rage.

Roni was not very lucid with the subject of death or moral damage, it was rather loose as he said, whatever it means, I think he did not even know it, he had heard it somewhere he does not remember. He was less sensitive on that subject, unlike me who took it more to heart. It could have been at times of my childhood, or that we are about to starve in the slums. The point is that my sensitivity was in a thin line and my dearest friend diluted his mind somewhere in fantasies. He was going to be a boring blacksmith as he called his father's work, but he argued that he was going to be a great gentleman surprising everyone at the festivals of the coming spring. I had already lost count of the times I asked if he was getting fit, and the answer was always; do not. I asked what that trust came from and he answered; Because I want it with my soul. It was when I was silent and I gave the reason, of course, to myself.

We had reached Roni's house, I lived a few more north, so we said goodbye until the next day.

I was still thinking about the act of that strange woman and why she did what she did. When I entered the house immediately the smell of alcohol cleared me. I covered my nose with a handkerchief that my mother always left at the table. My father was lying on the floor, practically passed out. Two bottles hovered on the floor, sideways, empty and a third, half full, on the table next to a glass.

I turned it upside down so it wouldn't drown and die in the most pathetic way I could think of. I always thought that his death would be something pathetic, but not in our house, and that way. Maybe at the exit of a bar or in a dispute over a bottle, drink or bet. When his inert arm hit the wooden floor I could see a note in his hand. It was from mom. I unfolded it.

Dear son,

I hope you are not angry or disappointed in me. I accepted work at the duke's house. Two weeks ago your father's pay ran out and I had no choice. I know I agreed to tell you in advance my decision, but we both know that you would not have allowed it. The pay is very good, thirteen coins daily, which I will be sending within two nights. And I promise you that, after ten moons, we will see each other again, and please take care of your father.

With love, Mom.

I waved one of the jars of fire, the pebbles inside were flushed and threw it against the fireplace. A slight explosion created a flame controlled by the walls of the home. I made a bun the letter and saw it consumed by the glow of the fire. Attached to her as my father to the bottle. I looked at him. It was a good analogy.

I was not angry with my mother, nor my father, if not, with me, what was I doing? Why not take a letter in the matter? Should she have left to do it? It had been two weeks and he hadn't moved a muscle to look for the hunter's mask, and so he intended to attend the teachings of a master in the hunt? I shook my head.

It was too late for regrets, I could still bring her home, I just needed to take hint and look for the mask. Recovering it, my father would support the family again and soon I would. It was unfair that my mother who looked after us so much, today at sixteen winters of my birth, must also be the livelihood of the family.

Chapter 2

The next morning I was not in the watchtower, I had not gone to school either and next to it I dragged Roni with me. He could still miss several classes he didn't care about the title either - besides, if you inherit the mask, you don't need it, it was his carefree words.

We followed the footsteps of the thugs Gon and Bon, the two who bothered us until the last year, where they left because of the family business, we all knew that those businesses came in the bets, where my father often resorted.

We pass through a stone threshold, almost collapsed and with vines hanging from it. The boots sank at the first step, the mud was fresh and pasty. Water stagnated producing puddles due to the lack of stones along the way. They put planks to avoid these, but the wood quickly rotted badly smelling the neighborhood more. The houses were so high that they seemed to crush each other, they did not even leave room for alleys, water or garbage dumps, nor did they have a park or gardens, the space was used completely. Like everything there, the houses were full of mold, with rotten and wet woods.

We stopped following Gon and Bon when they entered one of the two-story houses, most were one, small with only one window, without a patio. We did not need them to follow the noise that made the vulgar on the other side. The common screaming was a betting site without a doubt. We turned at one intersection and in the next around the same entry point.

There he was, behind a half-fallen wooden fence, which would not prevent a drunk from passing through, the only place of clandestine fighting in Moro.

The combat is simple, Roni explained, you bet on the next fighter, if he wins, you win, if he loses, you lose. It's that simple, "he said redundantly.

Then it's fifty-fifty, I made my way to the front, any recommendations?

The house must have your father's mask, all lost, goes there, he said with a subtle gesture to some men sitting, eating and drinking, don't make them angry.

I'll be right back, I mused.

I walked around the thread that kept us at a distance from the two fighters. The closeness was such that he felt the dry noise of the blows, the blood, sweat and saliva, detached from the fighters. I looked at them as I rounded towards the house.

I noticed that they were wearing masks, bloody fists, bare torso up, pants, and no shoes. It didn't take long to realize the false masks held by threads. Pieces of wood without meaning. Each of them had the necessary holes to see, breathe and blaspheme. One of them bore different colored markings, the other had a hammer and an anvil drawn. The use of that object absorbed by magic or miraculous ability was more traditionalism than protection.

I arrived next to the men of the chairs and great banquet. Propitious during a bloodshed. I had to swallow several times while thinking that.

I cleared my throat at the point of attracting attention, and began:

Who among you has the mask of the hunter? I asked in a thick, arrogant and challenging voice.

The answer was silence, laughter, elbows between them and more mouthfuls.

Ten coins cost the boots I would bet on her.

The eyes melted into me. I felt the grief of a heat rise up my chest, and with the same speed the cold sweat ran down my back.

What are you talking about boy? –The man in the central chair asked. Bearded, aquiline nose, few teeth and full lips.

The price of my boots.

Yes, yes, but what are you doing? He took a loud sip to his blackened plate glass.

Yes, to bet, my boots, for the hunter mask of the Dumdorburg family.

One of his colleagues, the bald man, with a wart on his nose, and squatting eyes approached him. He said something in his ear, and the other burst out laughing.

The drunk Dum's mask - again laughs, bumps on it supports the chair's arm, and more laughter.

I did not dare to interrupt with subordination, his hands looked like hammers and sounded as such in the old dry wood of his seat. The third who barely looked at me at first refused to miss the fight, ate, drank and cheered, to the big man in a colorful mask.

When the laughter began to cease, I resumed the negotiation dialogue.

And good? Do you accept the deal?

It's a fact - his face got serious - who is your champion?

Champion? He hadn't thought about that, nor consulted Roni. I looked towards the ring, the big man with the colorful mask fell unconscious. A chair flew out, the one who briefly encouraged his fighter boiled with fury. Outside the circle, two others stood, six stools remained on the sidewalks.

I must tell you that my champion is myself, the king of the underworld.

I opened my eyes as a plate of how surprised he had left me that, no matter what he chose, it would not be a fair fight, no one would dare to beat the one who paid them. I pointed to one at random, shook hands and headed as soon as possible to Roni.

Chapter 3

When he found him on the other side, the king announced a bet canceling the duel unexpectedly and retaking it at the end of it, he explained to the community.

You did it, Roni snapped happily.

Yes, he will fight for the mask, do you know what it means?

What should you run away from?

I nodded silently.

My champion, a stocky man, with broad arms, back and belly, came to our side. I look at my feet and speak without subtlety.

You wear boots on your feet.

Good choice, the crooked one, will give him a fight, at least one show, and some time.

What else, it was a coincidence, anyway, I knew I wouldn't win.

After hearing my words, Roni, without relaxing, stretched his neck sideways, turned, searched and looked forward again, toward the circle where the combatants' announcement began.

Gon and Bon have arrived, he said cautiously.

We walked towards a corner, where the side gates formed a staircase, appropriate to climb to one of the houses and flee to the other side.

What about them? I asked intrigued.

Sure, you don't know, he declared his location and turned, they are children of the king, they know your appearance, it is easy for them to identify you, and catch you.

It had been a stupid mistake to judge the intelligence with whom he was betting. It was the most logical thing that if someone played the most important thing, getting into the lowest of the kingdom, betting directly with the host and leader, who at least knew the name of the chosen fighter, that, or an interest of each of they. On the contrary, I fled from that, I chose quickly, and raised suspicions, now Gon and Bon, were the biggest of my problems. I didn't worry about running away, nobody, not even the two of them, climbed with my speed and accuracy. The problem was that sooner or later they would find me, they wouldn't do it in my house, or with my father, but if they tried to corner me in the center of the city. There, where the alleys abound, where the