24. Kal: The Swamp (II)

  “How do you know my real name?” Kal asked, his eyes widening. It seemed that, for a moment, he almost forgot he was speaking with a giant, sentient tree-creature.

  “I know all sorts of things.” Ukreus replied calmly. “For example, I know you’re from Earth, your favorite color is green, your favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate, and your favorite song is ‘Winds of Ruin’.”

  “Winds of Ruin…” Kal echoed softly, memories flooding his mind. He hadn’t heard it since the day he’d died on Earth.

  “Can you play it with that lyroca of yours?” Ukreus asked, pointing one gnarled, moss-covered finger toward the instrument.

  “The lyroca?” Kal replied, surprised. “No…unfortunately, I can’t. I could attempt a cover version, but it wouldn’t do justice to the original, so I’d rather not. Winds of Ruin was always meant for an electric guitar. The lyroca’s strings are too soft and delicate – they can’t replicate the heavy distortions and the sharp, aggressive melodies the song requires. The technique and sound are completely incompatible.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad…” Ukreus responded, sounding genuinely disappointed.

  “Tell me about it.” Kal sighed, rolling his eyes. Then he focused again, curiosity growing. “But seriously – how do you know so much about me?”

  “I just do.” Ukreus replied, offering no real answer to Kal’s confusion. “Say, this cover you mentioned…Could you attempt it nonetheless?”

  Kal hesitated. He’d already explained it wouldn’t match the original, but it wasn’t that simple. Who exactly was Ukreus? Could Kal really decline such a mysterious being’s request?

  “I’ll try my best.” Kal finally said, taking a deep breath.

  He gently adjusted the lyroca’s tuning, loosening and tightening some of the strings, hoping to mimic at least the core notes and progressions from the original. It felt awkward, knowing how drastically different a metal song was from the soothing, delicate instrument in his hands. Yet he pushed forward, carefully plucking out the opening riff – now reduced to soft, resonant notes.

  Kal struggled at first, his fingers searching instinctively for bends, slides, and power chords that simply didn’t exist on the lyroca. Each note he played felt restrained initially, yet slowly, he found his rhythm. He began to reinterpret the riff, translating fierce chords into smooth arpeggios, relying heavily on his fingerstyle techniques, gentle hammer-ons, and carefully measured pauses to maintain the tension and energy of the original song.

  Gradually, his frustration turned into inspiration as he surprised even himself. The lyroca’s melodic warmth created a melancholic interpretation of a song he felt was once defined only by rage and intensity.

  As Kal finished the last note, letting it fade gently into the fog, he felt a real sense of pride in his improvised arrangement. It was by no means perfect, but at the same time it was. For him.

  Ukreus stood silently, nodding slowly, leaves falling from atop of him, before he finally broke the silence.

  “Quite well-played.” He rumbled thoughtfully.

  ‘That’s all you have to say after I gave my soul here?!’

  “Something’s missing…” Ukreus continued.

  Kal frowned slightly, unsure about what he meant. “What’s missing?”

  “The words!” Ukreus exclaimed, sounding mildly offended. “A song without words is…empty air! Songs are born from feelings – they are stories covered in melody. Without the voice to carry meaning, to tell these stories, it is merely sound. Still pretty, of course, but incomplete.”

  “I have to disagree.” Kal replied firmly, feeling genuinely offended. He had played guitar for many years, and rarely had he accompanied his melodies with lyrics. Not because he lacked the voice – on the contrary, he had quite a nice one – but because he always believed in the melody itself, the pure, raw essence of music.

  “You disagree?” Ukreus asked, his voice growing curious.

  Kal nodded. “Melody is music in its rawest and most genuine form. Lyrics might enrich a song, but they can never be considered essential. A good melody already carries enough meaning, emotions, and stories on its own. Lyrics are like a bonus: they can enhance the experience, sure, but their absence doesn’t diminish the music itself. To call a melody ‘incomplete’ because it lacks lyrics is misunderstanding music at its core.”

  “Hmmmm.” Ukreus murmured thoughtfully, as if contemplating Kal’s argument. “I see your point. But still…I’d like to hear some words accompanying this interpretation of yours.”

  Kal sighed, once again wondering if he truly had a choice here. Then, suddenly, an idea struck him.

  “I can sing,” he began carefully, “but…will you answer some of my questions in return?”

  “Why, of course!” Ukreus exclaimed cheerfully. “I wouldn’t want you to feel mistreated.”

  Kal nodded slowly. “It’s a deal, then.” He reached his hand forward, expecting a handshake from the tree-like creature.

  “A deal I intend to keep.” Ukreus said, reaching a branch toward Kal.

  The two shook "hands".

  “Now, chop chop, I want to hear it – your Winds of Ruin.” Ukreus demanded.

  Kal took a deep breath, adjusting his grip on the lyroca once again. His fingers gently pressed against the delicate strings, readying himself to perform. This time, he allowed the melody to flow more naturally – softer and slower – his youthful voice following along, contrastingly accompanying the melancholic mood his lyroca was setting.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He finished the first verse and chorus and just as he was about to draw another breath, prepared to move into the next verse, Ukreus raised his massive wooden branches, interrupting him with a loud applause that brought even more dry leaves on top of Kal's head.

  “Bravo, young Kalvin!” He cheered enthusiastically. “Bravo indeed!”

  Kal, startled by the enthusiastic compliment, noticed something else. The voices around them, previously mocking, had shifted completely. They were now cheering supportively, clapping in approval, and exchanging words of praise:

  “Such a touching voice.”

  “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.”

  “Sing us another one, kid!”

  “Silence. The whole lot of you!” Ukreus roared, and immediately, the voices faded into quietness again. Turning back to Kal, he spoke apologetically. “Forgive their insincerity, young Kal. They wouldn’t know talent even if it struck them squarely in the face. They’re only clapping now because they saw me doing it. They’re just mimicking me.”

  Kal swallowed nervously, glancing around the foggy swamp. “What exactly are they?” He asked, a chill running down his spine. “Are they…ghosts?”

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Ukreus tone sounded amused, as though he were quietly laughing – though it was hard to tell, given the absence of any visible mouth on his enormous trunk body. “They’re merely souls I carry around.”

  Kal felt his blood freeze. “…Souls?”

  “Yes.” Ukreus replied calmly. “The souls of my enemies. Those who sought to harm me and failed are now mine to parade – for all to see, for all to fear.”

  The chill running through Kal’s body intensified. This wasn’t some whimsical tree creature fond of music. His initial fear had been justified. This creature – whatever it truly was – had killed before. But something else bothered him even more.

  Panic washed over him. "B-but my Mom!"

  "Oh, relax." Ukreus said in a calming manner. "That was just a trick to get your attention. I promise I had nothing to do with your original parents' deaths."

  “To get my...What are you?” Kal asked cautiously, afraid of the answer he might receive.

  “What I am means naught to you, Kalvin Clark.” Ukreus replied dismissively. “I promised you answers. You must refine your questions.”

  Kal swallowed hard, realizing the truth behind these words. Carefully choosing his next question, he spoke again. “How do you know my Earth name? How do you know anything about my previous life?”

  Ukreus made that strange sound again, a low, rumbling noise – as if amused. “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere.”

  He leaned slowly toward Kal, prompting him to instinctively scramble backward, clutching the lyroca tightly against his chest.

  Again sounding amused, Ukreus spoke softly. “Don’t be afraid, my young friend. Don’t you want to learn why you’re here? Why you were reborn into this world? Don’t you want to know about Gartan?”

  Gartan. The name drew Kal’s attention immediately – he remembered clearly how the golden ring his Inner Eye had mentioned that very name.

  “I want to know.” Kal said softly, realizing his lips were already moving before he consciously gave the command.

  “Good,” Ukreus replied, satisfied. “As you’ve already noticed, I am quite fond of music. But, unfortunately, with these hands of mine, I couldn’t pluck a single string without snapping the whole instrument in half.” He chuckled darkly, the deep sound most unsettling. “A shame, really. Once, I could play the most beautiful ballads imaginable. The songs I composed were sung in every home across the world – not just in Stulan. But now my only artistic escape is through storytelling. Allow me, then, to answer your questions with one.”

  Kal nodded hesitantly, his mind racing as he absorbed Ukreus’ words.

  ‘Was he human once? And if so…what exactly is he now?’

  Ukreus leaned forward, the motion once again dropping dry leaves on the foggy ground, and began his tale:

  “Many moons ago, in a time long lost, in a world not so much like ours, there lived two brothers – twins, bound from birth, yet worlds apart. One was gifted beyond measure, excelling at everything his hands touched, effortlessly succeeding where others struggled. His twin, ever in his shadow, tirelessly chased after him, always second-best, always trying, always falling short.”

  Ukreus paused, allowing silence to weigh heavily on Kal before he continued. “But, as in all stories, tragedy soon struck. Their parents met an untimely end, leaving the twins alone, vulnerable. It was then that the true villains entered this tale: their own aunt and uncle. Blood of their blood, flesh of their flesh, yet as farthest from family as night from day.

  “Day after day, the brothers endured beatings – relentless punishments dealt out mercilessly by their own kin. Most often, it was the second-best who bore the brunt of it, simply because he was weaker, easier prey. Never fighting back, always cowering behind his brother. In doing so, the lesser brother selfishly dragged his brilliant twin down, forcing upon him the role of protector – robbing their world of a truly remarkable mind. Such was his selfishness, this second-best – “

  “Shut the hell up!” Kal snapped, his heart pounding as the story hit way too close to home. “You know nothing about me and my brother!”

  In an instant, one of the thick vines dangling from Ukreus’ branches whipped forward, tightly wrapping around Kal’s mouth and forcing it shut.

  “Hush, Kalvin Clark,” Ukreus scolded gently. “Do not interrupt my story.”

  Kal struggled against the vine, eyes wide with anger and panic, as Ukreus calmly resumed his tale:

  “The brilliant brother could not bear the abuse any longer. Yet, the problem was that in addition to his gifts, he was also handed a deep mistrust in mankind. So, he only believed in himself, in his own imperfect, half-hatched plans. He burned away his life and potential protecting a brother utterly unworthy of such sacrifice – a brother who was jealous of him every step of the way. A dead weight that dragged him slowly but surely toward an early grave. Ah…if only had he realized that by leaving his good-for-nothing brother behind, he could’ve achieved so much…What a shame.”

  At these words, Kal dropped his lyroca in the mud, desperately clawing at the vine covering his mouth with both hands, struggling to tear it away.

  Ignoring him, Ukreus continued, saying something that made Kal freeze completely.

  “But even in death, the brilliant brother could not bear to let his lesser sibling suffer. Did you know, Kalvin Clark, that he accepted a terrible fate just so you could be reborn into this world?”

  The vine slowly withdrew from Kal’s mouth, allowing him to utter a single, shaken word. “W-what?”

  Ukreus let out that amused sigh again. “Oh, don’t tell me you believed your rebirth here was merely fate or coincidence…A price had to be paid – a price your brother willingly chose to pay.”

  Kal’s stomach twisted painfully. He couldn’t deny Ukreus’ words, no matter how much he wished he could. It was exactly the kind of sacrifice his brother would make without a second thought. A brother whose name was stolen from his memory when he was born here…

  “What did he do? What was the price?” Kal asked desperately, silent tears streaming down his face, his voice growing urgent.

  “That’s not for me to say.” Ukreus replied firmly. “If you truly desire answers, seek Gartan. I lied before – I can tell you naught about him.”

  “What do you mean, seek him? How can I find him? Where?! Who is he even?!” Kal shouted back, desperation gripping him.

  “That’s all I’m going to say, Kalvin Clark. So long and Farewell…for now.” As Ukreus spoke these final words, his massive form instantly froze in place, his glowing eyes faded away, and within moments, he appeared as nothing more than a giant, lifeless tree, identical to the countless others scattered across the swamp.”

  “No, no, no – come back!” Kal screamed, rushing toward the towering tree.

  Meanwhile, Azmira – who had been desperately searching for Kal after hearing the familiar sound of his lyroca and understanding he must have had followed her – finally emerged through the thick fog and saw him.

  “Kal! Oh, thank goodness!” She shouted anxiously, relieved.

  But Kal didn’t respond. He was furiously hitting and kicking at the thick tree in front of him, tears pouring from his eyes, his voice breaking in desperation.

  “Come back here! Tell me everything you know!”