Into the Abyss (The Nightslayer Trilogy, Part 2) - Chapter Three

Aylander watched as the black sword took shape in his hand. Even once it had fully solidified, inky tendrils continued to stream from it, swirling and curving away until being reabsorbed by the nothingness they had sprung from. Except they, and the sword they came from, hadn't sprung from nothingness, had they? No. What they'd sprung from had been the essence of the Abyss, itself, coaxed into their present, visible form by nothing more than Aylander's own will. There was nothing magical about what he'd done – he'd simply thought about what he had wanted, and it had appeared in his hand. A part of Aylander was disturbed by this – especially by about how easy it had been to do – but the rest of him found it exhilarating. He wondered what other powers the Abyss had bestowed on him, and also wondered if they would fade once he and Zoe had found their way out. My magic would never compare to this. Never!

“Where'd that sword come from?”

Startled, Aylander's concentration slipped and the sword vanished. He turned his head to look across the fire – conjured, just like the sword, from the essence of the Abyss by nothing but his will – at Zoe, whom Aylander hadn't expected to be awake for hours, yet. “What sword, my lady?” he asked.

Zoe frowned at him. “I swore I saw you holding a black sword in your hand, just now,” she said. “It had tendrils, like ink, coming off of it, and it felt wrong, somehow.”

Aylander smiled. “Doesn't everything in this place feel wrong, somehow? Isn't that why we're trying to find a way out?”

“It does,” Zoe said, “and it is. But that sword . . . I don't know, Aylander. It seemed worse than everything else, here. Couldn't you feel that? What would make you conjure something like that?”

Aylander didn't answer right away. What had made him conjure the sword? While it was true that he had been without a weapon since having his body restored to him, was that enough to make him conjure something that had felt so twisted, so evil? Only it hadn't felt twisted and evil to him while it had been in his hand, had it? In fact, hadn't it made him feel powerful? Powerful enough, even, to maybe take on Thaddeus? What am I thinking?

“Aylander?” Zoe said. “Are you all right?”

Aylander looked at her. “I'm not sure,” he said. “This place is seeming to have an effect on me. A terrifying, yet intoxicating effect.”

“You were a Twisted Sword Priest once, right? Like Novar?”

“I was.”

“And you saw what this place did to him?”

“Yes.”

“It's probably starting to have the same effect on you.”

Aylander looked away from her and into the fire. “You're probably right,” he said, dismayed that the cleansing – the scourging – Thaddeus's sword had given to his soul hadn't been able to entirely erase Atraxos's touch. Maybe it did erase it, though, he thought. Maybe my Eltaran heritage is enough for this place to have an effect on me. Maybe.

“Can you fight it, Aylander?” Zoe asked.

He looked back up at her. “All I can do is try, my lady.”

“Promise me you won't conjure the sword, again.”

I can't promise that, my lady. “I won't conjure it, again. You have my word.”

Zoe smiled. “Good. And enough with that bloody 'my lady' stuff, all right? I'm Zoe. Your sister-in-law.”

Aylander chuckled. “My sister-in-law, who also just happens to be a Sorceress, as well. But, very well. Zoe it is.”

“Don't you forget it, either.”

Aylander raised an eyebrow. “Now, that's highly unlikely, don't you think? If there's one thing in this life I'm liable to never forget, it's what your name is.” He grinned. “My lady.”

The flat look Zoe gave him lasted only for a moment before she was laughing. Aylander laughed with her and – for right then, at least – everything was all right. Aylander knew it wouldn't last, though. As long as they were here, in the Abyss, nothing could ever be all right for very long.

Some time later – trying to say exactly when was a meaningless exercise in this place – Aylander extinguished the fire and they set off, again, through the flat, gray nothingness that was the Abyss. Silence surrounded them on all sides – not even their footsteps made any sound as they touched the ground – and there was no breeze on which any smells could be carried. Because of the unvarying terrain over which Aylander and Zoe traveled, there was no way to tell how far they went, nor any sense of which direction it was they moved in. Neither of them spoke, which, Aylander found, soon began to add to the oppressiveness of the silence. That was what this place was supposed to be, though – oppressive in both its emptiness and in its silence – and so he did nothing to break the tension.

A glance at Zoe showed that she was feeling much the same way, though the strain and weariness showing on her face seemed greater than that which Aylander felt. In some distant, abstract way, Aylander knew he should have been feeling similar strain and weariness, but he didn't. In fact, it seemed, as more time passed for him in this place, he was growing more and more used to it. No longer did the wrongness of this place make Aylander feel physically ill, like it had when he'd first arrived. No longer did Aylander feel like he had to keep himself separate from this place, and he knew that, in time, this place would become as much a part of him as any other place ever had been. Would that be a bad thing when it finally happened? Though he wanted to say yes, he wasn't so certain, any longer.

There was no need for Aylander or Zoe to eat or drink while they were in the Abyss, and they stopped only for brief moments to rest. It was during one of these brief rests that Aylander first caught Zoe looking at him suspiciously. The look only lasted for a moment, but Aylander was certain he'd seen it. He said nothing about it, however – neither of them said anything about anything, continuing to hold their silence despite the fact that they were resting – and, after a while, they continued on, traversing the endless, flat, silent plane that was the Abyss.

Aylander's thoughts turned suddenly to Thaddeus. What would happen once he and Zoe were reunited with him? Certainly, it would be a happy reunion for Zoe, but what would it be for Aylander? Aylander wasn't the same as he had been before being pulled into the Abyss – the Abyss had made him powerful, and he sensed that that power was continuing to grow – and he was no longer certain he wanted to go back to the way he had been. Somehow, Aylander understood that, even if he left the Abyss, he wouldn't necessarily have to give up the power the Abyss had granted, but, if he didn't, what would that mean for him? Would he go back to being something Twisted, like he had been before being ensnared by Thaddeus's sword? And, even if he did, would that be such a bad thing? Twisted doesn't have to mean evil. And evil is such an abstract concept, anyway.

“All right, Aylander,” Zoe said, finally breaking the silence between them. “What's on your mind?”

Aylander looked at her. “Nothing of consequence,” he said.

“If the look on your face is any indication, I find that hard to believe.”

Aylander stopped and turned to face her. “What look would that be?”

Zoe hesitated before answering, and Aylander thought he saw a brief flash of fear in her eyes. For some reason, he found that brief flash pleasing. “You look like you're thinking about killing someone.”

Only my own, dear brother. “Not at all.” Aylander forced a smile. “It must be the oppressiveness of this place. Perhaps we should keep talking in order to keep ourselves distracted from it.”

“Maybe . . . maybe so.” Zoe looked around. “Gods Above, we need to get out of this place.”

A thunderous roar suddenly split the sky. It had come from a distance, but was still incredibly loud.

“Was that what I think it was?” Zoe asked, looking off into the distance ahead of them.

“A dragon?” Aylander said. “Yes, my lady, I'm afraid it was.”

A dark speck had appeared on the far horizon. As they watched, it grew closer, ceasing to be a speck as more and more of its features came into view. Winds, pushed ahead of it by the flapping its great, leathery wings, began to buffet them, and it roared, again, deafening them and nearly forcing them to the ground. Getting back to their feet, Aylander and Zoe started to run. Aylander knew it would do them no good, however. No one could outrun a dragon.

Into the Abyss (The Nightslayer Trilogy, Part 2) - Chapter Two

Thaddeus was being stalked. The presence of his stalker – a minor Demon Lord, and not one of the Seven – had been tickling the edges of the heightened awareness his magic granted him for days, now, and it amazed him that he had yet to be attacked. What was his stalker waiting for? Was it possible that, despite the fact that it had had more than enough time to ready itself for a battle with Thaddeus, it was afraid? Or had it been ordered to hold back and observe Thaddeus's movements, gathering intelligence that could be reported back to the Seven before a larger, more coordinated attack could be unleashed? Either way, Thaddeus felt he was ready for whatever came, and even found that he was beginning to grow impatient, that growing impatience making it more and more difficult for him to keep acting before his stalker did. I can't allow myself to do that, though, he thought. Doing that may be just what they're waiting for.

Right now, Thaddeus was in one of the Halls of Twilight, probing it – as he had probed the previous six – for anything that might allow him to break through into the Abyss. There seemed to be nothing for him to find, however – as in the previous six Halls, the magic that had been used to construct this one was so dense that even an experienced Spellbreaker would have been hard pressed to locate where one spell ended and another began. And was breaking one of those spells even the right thing to do? What if it caused the entire Hall to collapse? Would that cause a chain reaction that lead to all of them collapsing? Thaddeus knew he wasn't strong enough to deal with the aftermath of something like that. But how else was he supposed to rescue the people he loved?

Thaddeus froze. His stalker had grown closer, and he sensed a nervous energy coming from it, a feeling that it was readying itself to pounce. Drawing his sword, Thaddeus turned a slow circle, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of the creature he was sure was about to attack. He saw nothing but the stone walls of the Hall, however, which no doubt meant the Demon Lord had shrouded itself in an invisibility spell. “You wish to attack me, and yet you hide,” Thaddeus said. “Do you truly fear the Nightslayer so? If all of you fear me as much as you, then dealing with you will be hardly a challenge, at all.”

“You are distracted, Nightslayer,” a hissing, snakelike voice answered, seeming to come from everywhere at once, and suddenly Thaddeus sensed the presence of not one Demon Lord, but three. “Your thoughts stray from your appointed task. Do you not understand how weak this makes you?”

The words stung, as Thaddeus now understood that the three presences he sensed had always been there, waiting for him to make the first move. Because he hadn't, and because he hadn't even been aware of the other two Demon Lords, he would now be forced to fend off an attack that came from three directions at once. Could he do it? Probably, but he would rather not have. I have to strike first if I'm going to win this thing. Doing anything else leaves me vulnerable. Leaves me weak.

Fueled by a sudden, white hot rage, Thaddeus unleashed a burst of force in all directions. It hit all three of the Demon Lords, shattering their cloaks of invisibility and causing them to stagger. They recovered quickly, however, and counterattacked in tandem – one from in front, the other two from behind. Thaddeus leaped into the air and somersaulted over the one that charged from in front, swinging his sword in a wild arc that trailed blue fire as he landed. The swing missed, but the magic that accompanied it threw the Demon Lord, shrieking, to the floor. Ignoring their fallen comrade, the other two leaped over his prone form and unleashed a torrent of magic at Thaddeus. Thaddeus was able to get a shield up, but not before some of their magic hit, buffeting him and knocking him backwards. He kept his feet, however – he wasn't sure how, as the pain from what had struck him was worse than anything he could remember – gripping his sword with both hands and brandishing it at his attackers with a grin that, had he been able to see it, Thaddeus would have found more than a little terrifying. “Is that all you've got?” he asked.

All three Demon Lords were on their feet, now, the one Thaddeus had struck with the burst of magic from his sword – obviously still a little worse for wear, based on what Thaddeus could sense – now standing behind the other two. As Thaddeus watched, black swords that trailed threads of darkness like ink appeared in their hands, and, all at once, Thaddeus understood that, if any of those weapons so much as grazed him, he would be dead before he even realized what had happened. Using his magic, and the amplifying abilities of his own sword, Thaddeus felt he might have been able to defeat one Demon Lord armed with such a sword, but, right now, he faced three. It doesn't matter, he thought, not even realizing how reckless his line of reasoning seemed. If I live, or if I die, I will give them a fight any who survive won't be quick to forget.

“Begone from here.”

The voice was cold, like ancient, creaking ice, and immediately made Thaddeus feel more afraid than he could ever remember feeling, before. Normally, he would have wanted to turn and see who it was that had spoken – whoever it was was behind Thaddeus, even though his magical senses told him no one was there – but, right now, all he wanted to do was flee, to run so far away that, whoever the speaker was, it would take him so long to find him that, by the time he did, Thaddeus would have long since died and turned to dust. Thaddeus couldn't move, however – he was, quite literally, frozen in place, though he knew not by what magic or spell – and it seemed the Demon Lords were similarly incapacitated.

“You are invaders, here, fouled by the chaos that lies between the planes.” These words were addressed to the Demon Lords, though hearing them spoken made Thaddeus feel no better. “Begone, I say, or you will face the fullness of my wrath.”

The wrath of whatever being spoke in that cold, ancient voice would be a terrible thing to behold. No one in their right mind would ever want to witness such a thing, and, as Thaddeus watched, it seemed this even held true for the three Demon Lords, who, as one, turned and fled. Once they were gone, whatever held Thaddeus relaxed, and, slowly, he turned. What he found himself facing was a tall, bulky creature that seemed to be made entirely of ice. In each of its hands, it held identical, scythe-like weapons – each of them also made of ice – and it regarded Thaddeus with eyes that blazed with blue fire. Though it had to be magical, the creature gave off no sense of magic, or of life, or even of substance. Thaddeus could see the creature. He'd heard its voice. And yet, despite all of that, it was like it wasn't even there.

“I should have commanded you gone, as well,” the creature said. “I sense the touch of darkness on you.”

“Why . . . why didn't you?” Thaddeus asked, the cold in the air making his breath steam as he spoke.

“Are you not the Nightslayer, then?”

“I am.” Thaddeus didn't like the lack of confidence he heard in his voice. Where had that come from? Was this creature really so frightening that it caused him to doubt himself?

“You do not sound certain,” the creature said, “though who am I to doubt you? Tell me, Wanderer, why are you in these Halls? What is it you seek?”

Wanderer. Thaddeus was no Wanderer. He was whole, now. Himself. Wasn't he? “Not long ago, two people who are very dear to me were ensnared in a trap and pulled into the Abyss between the planes,” Thaddeus said. “I seek for a way to reach them.”

“Why seek for them when your duty is to combat the Demon Lords? Did you not swear an oath that you would combat them above and before all else?”

“I did.”

“Then does not seeking for a way to reach your friends bring you into conflict with that oath?”

Thaddeus hesitated before answering. “I don't know,” he finally said. “I feel I may need them in order to fulfill my oath.”

“What if they are dead?” the creature asked. “If you need them to fulfill your oath, would not their deaths make that impossible? And, if so, would that not then make you an oath breaker? Would that not then prove you to be a false Nightslayer?”

“I am not false!” Thaddeus said. “I will fulfill my oath to combat the Demon Lords, but I need my friends. They are a part of me, and I am incomplete without them.”

For a long time, the creature said nothing, staring at Thaddeus with its blazing, sapphire eyes. “Indeed you are,” it said at last. “Thaddeus Alvarem, I cannot tell you if your friends live, but I can tell you that, without them, you will not succeed in your task. That must not be allowed to happen. And so I will cast you from here, and into the Abyss. You will not be able to return, either to these Halls, or to the plane from which you came, unless you find them.”

“What if they're dead?” Thaddeus asked.

“Then pray that you join them before the Abyss consumes you.”

Thaddeus had a feeling, then, of being lifted off his feet and thrown as if off of an impossibly high cliff. The feeling lasted only for a moment before he lost consciousness, not even giving him enough time to scream.

Into the Abyss (The Nightslayer Trilogy, Part 2) - Chapter One

The first mistake everyone made when they talked about the Abyss was claiming that it was empty. While chaotic and largely without structure, it was far from empty – a fact that, during her time here, Zoe had had to learn first hand. Thinking about it, it was this lack of emptiness that had allowed her to maintain a hold on her sanity, but, if she didn't find a way out of the Abyss soon, she was certain that she would eventually lose even that meager hold. The Abyss was not meant for people like her – who it was meant for was a question she would rather not think about, as she had met such a person, and was currently his prisoner – and the longer Zoe remained here, the less likely it became that she could ever go back to being who she was supposed to be.

“Thinking about escape, again? Or, perhaps, dreaming of rescue?”

Zoe's captor was the Twisted Sword Priest that had been flung into the Abyss when she'd broken the transit spell he and Atraxos the Black had attempted to use to travel from the Guardian's dwelling to the Mountains of the Moon. He had found her not long after Zoe had woken up here, and had somehow been able to manipulate the chaos around them to fashion a prison in which Zoe's magic was shut off from her, leaving her helpless. Zoe had no idea how long ago that had been – the passage of time had no meaning, here – but it had felt like an eternity, and there was no sign that it would ever end. Unless, of course, she became like him, which she was sure would be what would happen once her grasp on sanity had been lost.

“So what if I was?” Zoe asked, not liking how weak her voice sounded. “We both know neither will ever happen.”

Zoe's captor – his name was Novar, and when he moved, he seemed to trail black smoke that whirled about him as if it were alive – came over to her, crouching down so that his eyes were level with hers. “Then why torture yourself, Sorceress?” he asked. “Why must you continue to cling to things that are no longer within reach when it would be so much easier to give in to the power of this place as I have?”

“If I did that, I'd become like you,” Zoe said. “I could never live with myself if I did that. It would mean betraying too much.”

Novar chuckled and shook his head. “You do understand that neither of us should be alive right now, don't you? Being pulled into this place should have killed us. But it didn't. We are still alive because we're different. We're meant for more. Give in to the chaos, Sorceress. Join with it. Revel in it. Let it make you the goddess you were always meant to be!”

As always, there was temptation in his words. Giving in to the chaos like he suggested – like he pleaded – would bring an end to more than just Zoe's worry about her sanity. It would bring an end to the pain, the pain Novar caused with the implements that hung from the gray, stone walls of the prison, some of which still bore red stains. Every time Zoe refused him, he used those implements on her, and he knew just how to cause her the most pain. The wounds he inflicted healed after each session, but the memory of them remained, and that only enhanced the pain when the time came for him to reopen them. But Zoe could not let herself be broken. She could not!

Knowing it would only lead to another round of torture, Zoe mustered all of the defiance she could and said, “Fuck you.”

It was the first time Zoe had cursed when speaking to Novar, and the Twisted Sword Priest sat back on his haunches, blinking in surprise. Then he grinned, his mouth full of unnaturally sharp teeth. “Later, perhaps,” he said, standing and moving toward the wall, where he took down a blade he had used once before to flay the skin off of Zoe's left arm. Zoe shuddered at the memory – the pain had been unbearable – and then kept shivering, terrified at the thought of what part of her Novar might remove the skin off of, now.

From outside the walls of the prison came a sound like thunder. Frowning, Novar tilted his head to one side, and even Zoe found herself straining her hearing to the limit, hoping against hope to hear the sound – no matter what had caused it – again. When the sound came, again, it was much closer, and the walls of the prison shook. Then one of those walls – which wasn't really made of stone, but, instead, out of nothing but solidified chaos – exploded inward, the force of the explosion throwing Novar against the opposite wall and causing him to lose hold of the cruel, curved blade he had intended to use on Zoe, which clattered to the floor in front of her. Zoe, who suddenly found she could move, bent down and picked up the blade, then took a staggering step toward Novar, who had been knocked unconscious. Not once did she look to see what, or who, had broken into the prison from outside – that didn't matter, at the moment. That didn't matter at all.

“Stop, Zoe!”

Zoe did stop, but not because she wanted to. All she wanted to do was take the blade she held in her hands and use it to chop Novar into pieces, then hope those pieces would reassemble so she could do it all over again. An intense magical spell had seized her, however, making it impossible to get any closer to the Twisted Sword Priest. She could still move in any other direction, just not toward Novar. Zoe turned her head to look at who had spoken. “Let me go,” she growled, surprised at how powerful she felt after feeling so weak only a few minutes earlier.

“And let you butcher him?” Aylander said. “You aren't a butcher, Zoe. At least, you weren't, and I sincerely hope that that hasn't changed. Put the blade down.”

“He tortured me, Aylander,” Zoe said. Hot tears burned in her eyes and she was shaking. “He tortured me!”

“I know he did, and I am truly sorry for it. But butchering him will not change anything he did to you, and could be just the conduit this place needs for its chaos to take you away forever. I can't let that happen. For your sake, and for Thaddeus's.”

Thaddeus! How long had it been since Zoe had seen him last? For that matter, how long had it been since she'd last seen Aylander? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Zoe looked down at the blade in her hands, then dropped it with a sob. Aylander was right. She was no butcher, and she couldn't let herself become one if she ever wanted to see Thaddeus, again. And I have to see Thaddeus, again. He needs me.

Zoe gestured at Novar. “What about him? He's become a part of the Abyss in a way I didn't think was possible, and might even grow to become more dangerous than one of the Demon Lords.”

Aylander smiled. “No need to be concerned about him. I erased his mind. Even if he does become one with the Abyss, he will no longer have any force of will. Which, in essence, means he will be no more dangerous than any other creature that dwells here. Now, come. We need to leave.”

“Where will we go?”

“Away from here. Perhaps we will even find a way out, or make it easier for Thaddeus to find us.”

“Is he looking for us?”

“I have to hope so,”Aylander said after a slight pause. His eyes met hers. “It's the only thing keeping me sane.”

As she left the prison with Aylander, Zoe realized her hold on her sanity had grown stronger. Not only was the Abyss not empty, she was no longer alone within it. And there was the hope that, somewhere in another plane of reality – maybe the one they had originally come from, maybe not – Thaddeus was alive and searching for them. Find us, my love, Zoe thought. Find us.