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

The landscape Zoe looked out across was an unfamiliar one. At some time in the not too distant past, a tremendous battle had raged here, the earth looking scorched in places, while in others appearing as if it had been rent from beneath and hurled into the air. There were no bodies that Zoe could see, but there were numerous burnt out wagon hulks, and the stench of smoke hung heavily in the air. Suddenly, Zoe became aware of someone else standing next to her. She turned to see who it was.

The young woman had dark hair and tanned skin, a portion of her hair hanging down over one shoulder in a long braid. She wore a fairly plain green dress, and, draped over her shoulders, was a long, multi-colored stole. Each color of the woman’s stole had been woven into a single stripe, and Zoe saw there were seven of them – blue, green, yellow, red, white, gray, and brown. Zoe knew at once that the woman’s stole was a badge of office of some kind, and thought that, though the woman looked almost painfully young, it suited her. Whatever office this woman held, it almost seemed as if she’d been made for it, as if she’d never been destined for anything else.

“It is good to meet you, at last, Sister Zoe,” the young woman said, looking at Zoe and smiling. Despite how young the woman looked, her smile was surprisingly motherly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for some time, now.”

“Who are you?” Zoe asked. “What is this place?”

“This place is somewhere that never existed, save inside the pages of a book,” the young woman said. “As for me, the woman I’ve chosen to speak to you as also never existed. You may call me Mother.”

Mother, if Zoe had been back at the abbey, would have been her title, as well. Whoever this young woman was, though, she seemed to be deliberately refusing to acknowledge that fact. Why else would she have addressed Zoe as Sister, as if Zoe were still nothing more than just a common cleric? Zoe found herself reaching for her magic, and was startled when she touched nothing. Somehow, she’d been cut off, which only served to increase her anger. And then she paused. Why was she so angry? That wasn’t like her. Not at all.

“You have reason to be angry,” the woman called Mother said. “But not at me. Tell me, Sister, are you truly ready for the role that has been laid before you? Or do you only think that you are? You might be three hundred years old, you might be heir to the powers of a Sorceress, but, to me, you are still only a child, still unfit to be a true Mother, a true Nurturer.”

“And who are you to say these things?” Zoe asked. “One of those Aylander called the God Beyond the Gods? If that’s the case, what gives you the right to pass judgement on me? You have no say about my destiny, or about anyone else’s.”

The woman called Mother gave her a sharp look. “Oh, don’t I?”

Zoe smiled. “No. You see, I’m familiar with the Eltaran legends about you. I know how cruel your kind is, how cold and removed from everything else. Sure, you might have played some role in the creation of the universe – probably a minor one, but I could be wrong – but you haven’t done much since then, aside from treating people like me as playthings. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a pale shadow to the picture the legends paint of you, and, as such, have no room to judge.”

“And yet you do? You, a mortal woman, whom I could destroy with nothing more than a fleck of my power?”

“Threats won’t get very far with me, I’m afraid,” Zoe said. “A person has to be afraid in order for a threat to work, and you don’t frighten me, at all.”

“Not even if I threaten the life of the man you love? I can destroy him just as easily as I can destroy you.”

“That’s true, but you won’t. You need us.”

“I need nothing of the kind. No matter who lives or dies, there will be balance, and, this time, that balance will endure.”

“Is a Demon Lord victory truly what you want?”

Mother laughed and looked away. “As I said, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of who wins, nothing can harm us, here.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

Mother didn’t look back at her. “Think what you like, child. The truth is the truth.”

Zoe was quiet for a time, looking out at the battlefield that had never been. “So,” she said at last, “what’s keeping you?”

Mother looked at her, her brow creased in confusion. “What’s keeping me from what?”

“Destroying me,” Zoe said. She met Mother’s gaze. “Or, if you like, destroying Thaddeus. We obviously don’t meet up to your standards, and, on top of that, we’re insolent. So why keep us alive? There’ll be a balance, anyway, right?”

“You don’t understand.”

“I probably don’t. However, Mother, I think I do. You need Thaddeus and I – and Aylander, too – to do the things you won’t. To do the things you’re too afraid to. Because you’re not sure the Demon Lords can’t harm you, here. Well, I will tell you this much – and I think you’ve probably already heard the same from Thaddeus. No matter who the Demon Lords threaten, I swear I will do all that I can to protect them. And that includes you.”

“How very noble,” Mother said, seemingly unfazed by Zoe’s words. “Do you understand, though, what the cost of that protection will be? Are you ready to accept the deaths of those that you love?”

Zoe wasn’t, of course. How could she be ready to accept something like that? That was why she was going to do everything in her power – and, just then, she felt like that her power might be much more vast than even she had yet discovered – to keep that from happening. Protect, she thought. And then, not even knowing why, Nurture. Like any good Mother would. “They don’t have to die,” she said.

“My dear, everyone has to die, sometime,” the woman called Mother said.

Zoe smiled. “But not before they’re supposed to.”

The woman called Mother raised her eyebrows. “And you have the power to decide when that will be?”

“I don’t think anyone does,” Zoe said, still smiling. “Not even you. But I am a guardian of life, and, as such, it’s my duty to make sure it lasts as long as it can.”

“Like any good Mother would.”

“Exactly.”

“Then, perhaps, you are ready. Maybe even more ready than any other who has come before you.”

“How many have come before me?”

“Many. But, no matter what happens this time, you will be the last.”

“Send me back, then,” Zoe said. “I already know I can find my way out of the Abyss on my own.”

“Indeed.” Mother paused, a thoughtful, almost mournful expression on her face. “It wasn’t always the Abyss, you know? It was our home once. And we destroyed it.”

“I know.”

“Goodbye, Sister Zoe.” The woman smiled. “Mother Zoe.”

Zoe smiled back. “Goodbye.”

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

The room – he thought it was a room, anyway, though he had the impression of something much more vast than that – Thaddeus found himself standing in was pitch black. He had no memory of how he’d gotten here, and though he wondered if he might be dreaming, he was almost certain that he wasn’t. So, if he wasn’t dreaming, but he also had no memory of how he’d arrived in this room, that meant the most likely conclusion was that he’d been brought here. But who, or what, had brought him? And was that really a question he wanted an answer to? What I want doesn’t matter. If I don’t get an answer, I’ll be stuck here.

Suddenly, Thaddeus heard the sound of approaching footsteps. At first, the sound came from a distance, but, as Thaddeus listened, it grew closer, the steps even, measured, accompanied by the click of what must have been the tip of a cane. The footsteps and click of the cane echoed, confirming that Thaddeus was in a room of some sort, though, given how long it was taking for whoever was walking toward him to arrive, it must have been immense. All at once, a circle of light appeared in front of Thaddeus, and the person who approached stepped into it, the sound of his footsteps and clicking cane coming to an abrupt, echoless stop.

The man who stood in the circle of light looked ordinary enough, though the dark clothes he wore seemed a bit odd. His cane was odd, as well, almost seeming more like a staff, and looking as if it had been carved from ebony. The cane was topped by a piece of metal that had been shaped to resemble the head of an animal Thaddeus had never seen before, but which he thought might have been a cat of some kind. As Thaddeus watched, the man took off his hat – which had a tall, flat crown and wide brim – and bowed.

“A pleasure to meet you, at last, Thaddeus Alvarem,” the man said, straightening and putting his hat back on. He smiled, though the smile failed to reach his eyes, which seemed less like eyes and more like deep pools of blackness. “I must say, the exploits of you and your companions have been, to date, most entertaining to behold.”

“Who are you?” Thaddeus asked. “What is this place?”

The man sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. Both of his hands rested on the top of his cane. “Why must everyone I meet always ask the same questions? Why can’t there ever be something more original? Something more pertinent?” He opened his eyes. “Where you are is nowhere, the Void, the place no rational mind would seek out on its own. As for who I am, for the time being, friend Thaddeus, you can call me Jack.”

When he heard the man say Jack, Thaddeus had a sudden, mental image of a woman being brutally murdered in what looked like a darkened alley. It lasted for only a fleeting moment, but it was enough to make him flinch backwards. Flinching backwards did no good, however, as the circle of light the man stood in – as well as the man, himself – moved with him. The man grinned, and Thaddeus shivered. “Jack isn’t your real name,” Thaddeus said.

“No, it isn’t,” the man said. “Nor was it the name of the man in the image you saw in your head. But, for the purposes of this discussion, it’s what you can call me.”

“Why?”

“Because it amuses me. And because it disturbs you.”

Thaddeus studied the man for a moment. He tried to probe him with his magic, but found that, wherever he was, his magic had been cut off from him. The man – Jack – seemed to realize what Thaddeus had tried to do, because he grinned, again, and put his finger against the side of his nose. “No magic here, my friend,” the man called Jack said. “Not for you, anyway.”

“But you can use all you want, I suppose?” Thaddeus asked.

“Of course. After all, what else is a living personification of the force you call magic supposed to do?”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? The ones Aylander called the Gods Beyond the Gods?”

Jack chuckled. “Such a quaint term. The Gods Beyond the Gods. So full of drama and gravitas. But that’s Eltarans for you. If anyone has mastered the art of being pretentious, it’s them.” He looked at Thaddeus. “The answer to your question, though, is yes. Oh, I wasn’t always as I am, now – once, I was rather like you, in fact – but, for longer than you can imagine, I have been what used to be known as an Ascendant. Ascendants, like myself, once thought we knew all there was to know about the universe. We were sure we understood all the forces that drove it, and it even seemed we had learned how to shape and mold them to our will. And then came the Cataclysm. Those of us who survived tried to stabilize what was left, and then we came here, to the Void, where never again would we be tempted to give in to the delusion that we were gods.”

“You left a lot of nasty things behind when you came here,” Thaddeus said.

“Indeed, though they were never supposed to be able to escape from the place you call the Abyss – the place that was once our home. Little did we think that our descendants would be stupid enough to try mastering the forces that not even we could control, ourselves. But they did, and so here you are, groping about for answers while, at the same time, looking for a way back home that shouldn’t exist. It does exist, however – to our shame – and you will not be the first I’ve helped return over the millennia. It is my sincerest hope, though, Thaddeus Alvarem, that you will be the last.”

“I find that hard to believe. You just told me you that you find our exploits entertaining. Won’t us being the last people you help bring an end to that entertainment?”

“Oh, it will. It will. But there are some things that should end, and I know you – you and the people you so righteously call your family – will be the last of your kind I ever interact with. For good or ill, you will be the last.”

“And what if I fail?” Thaddeus asked. “What if, even with the help of my family, I am unable to defeat the Demon Lords?”

“Then that is the way it shall be,” Jack said. “Even a victory by the Demon Lords brings balance.”

“Won’t a Demon Lord victory affect you?”

Jack grinned, again. “Not in the slightest. Here in the Void, nothing can touch us. Nothing.”

Thaddeus didn’t respond to that right away. “How certain are you of that?” he said at last. “Surely more certain than you were of the knowledge and power you had before the Cataclysm, am I right? Otherwise why say it? Unless you’re still blinded by the same pride. You aren’t, are you?”

Jack gave a dismissive laugh, brushing at a nonexistent speck of dust on the lapel of his jacket. “Of course not. We know better.”

“I don’t think you do,” Thaddeus said.

Jack gave him a sharp look. “Oh, is that so?”

“It is.”

“And what makes you think that, Nightslayer?” The last word came out of Jack’s mouth in a hiss.

“You wouldn’t be willing to help me get back, otherwise.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I mean, isn’t watching something be destroyed more entertaining than watching that same something be saved?”

“You’re so sure you can save it, then?”

“Not at all.” Thaddeus offered Jack a grin of his own. “But, if I don’t get back, and my family doesn’t make it back with me, then its destruction is a surety. And that’s something that frightens you, isn’t it?”

“Nothing frightens me, mortal!”

“Except two humans, an Eltaran, and a Sprite. That was you skulking about just before we fell asleep, wasn’t it? Tell me, Jack. What would have happened if we’d faced you there, instead of here, in your precious Void?”

“I don’t have to help you, you know,” Jack said, suddenly not sounding so sure of himself despite still trying to maintain his bluster. “I could kill you where you stand. I could turn your precious little family into specks of dust.”

“So why don’t you do it?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m not temping you at all! You’re afraid. But you don’t have to be. Help me get back, and I’ll do what I can to protect you, too. It may all be for nothing, but I swear to you, I will do what I can.”

For a long time, the man who called himself Jack said nothing. Then he said, “The Sign Universal is indeed engraved on your sword. It, and the Sign Unknown, are remnants of the power of the Ascendants. None who has come before you has ever been granted their use. Don’t make us regret giving them to you.”

Jack turned to go, but, before he could step out of the circle of light, Thaddeus said, “How do we get back?”

Jack turned back. “You’ve never needed my help for that, Thaddeus,” he said. “You’ve always known the way.”

“Why bring me here, then?”

“To see if we were right about you.” Jack smiled. “The jury’s still out on that, by the way. But no one before you has ever sworn to protect us, and that goes a long way toward helping your case.”

Jack turned, again, and stepped out of the light, his footsteps, and the clicking of his cane, slowly fading away.

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

Tymothe Vabarn watched the bridge over Gelevan Gorge burn. In the long run – particularly when it came to the war his actions were sure to incite – the burning of the bridge would mean very little. That bridge, however, had spanned Gelevan Gorge for more than three hundred years, providing travelers the most direct route between the Duchy of Telvany and the Barony of Blanchart. Over the centuries, it had grown into a symbol of cooperation between the two most powerful parts of the kingdom, but now, as the flames ate at its wood, it would become a symbol, again – the era of cooperation was over. The time had come to rule, or be ruled, in turn. And not by some arrogant fool who claimed a title that hadn’t been used in five hundred years.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” the Hidden King asked. He was currently invisible, and only Tymothe could hear his voice. “To finally embrace the power that was always meant for you?”

It did feel good, even if Tymothe still found the depth and breadth of his new powers a bit overwhelming. Overwhelming or not, though, they were his, and, through them, he would never again allow himself to be underestimated or dismissed. Why his mother had decided to keep his true powers hidden from him for so long – it may have had to do something with her being a hedge witch and unaware of her own strength – was beyond him, but, with the Hidden King’s help, he’d now become a mage of incredible power. And he wasn’t just a mage, either – Tymothe was a Necromancer, which meant that he now had all but absolute power over life and death, itself.

“It feels incredible,” Tymothe said. “I still don’t understand how unleashing my powers kept the sun from rising, however.”

The Hidden King didn’t say anything right away, and Tymothe had the sudden impression that even the most powerful of the Demon Lords was uncertain about what had kept the sun from rising. “We are sure to witness many wonders in the days to come,” the Hidden King finally said.

“Are you saying that it wasn’t me that caused it, then?” Tymothe asked.

Suddenly, the Hidden King’s eyes blazed out of the night. Tymothe had to force himself to keep from taking a step back, but was sure the Hidden King sensed how startled he was, anyway. “What I am saying, Baron, is that there is no point in asking useless questions,” the Hidden King said, his voice a low, threatening growl. “In any case, the darkness is a gift. Our forces will be able to move much more freely under its cover.”

That much was true. Any Abominations Tymothe raised would move better in darkness, as would anyone whose soul he was able to Twist. But, if the darkness hadn’t come from him, and also hadn’t come because of the presence of the Demon Lords, then where had it come from? Not knowing the answer to that, Tymothe thought, could potentially become a problem. What if someone found a way to turn the darkness against them? What kind of creature could do that, I wonder?

Tymothe turned, sensing the approach of the guards. Before them, the guards led a pair of prisoners, two Catharzen acolytes Tymothe had had seized from the crypt at Valewind. Each of the prisoners, Tymothe sensed, had been acolytes for years, neither of them realizing their magical potential. Not that the Order of Catharzen ever bothered itself with training people who were gifted in Arcane magic, as these two were. Arcane magic was for mages, not for clerics and monks.

Tymothe smiled at the two prisoners. “Do either of you know why I had you brought here?” he asked.

Neither of the prisoners spoke, their expressions stony. Tymothe could sense their fear, however. “You didn’t have to allow yourself to be captured, you know,” he said. “You could have fought.” He leaned toward the prisoners and lowered his voice. “And you might even have escaped.” He nudged them with a small compulsion spell, just enough to get them to talk to him. “What are your names?”

“Daveth,” the prisoner on the left said.

“Harald,” the prisoner on the right said.

“Daveth and Harald! Excellent! Well met. Tell me, Daveth and Harald, have you ever wondered what true power would feel like?”

Neither prisoner spoke, but, as Tymothe watched, he saw something in their eyes that told him he had their attention, and that it had nothing to do with his magic. These two men might not have been in touch with their magical abilities, yet, but, on some level, Tymothe was sure they were aware of them. All they needed, now, was the proper coaxing for those abilities to come out. And for those abilities to be turned toward the purposes Tymothe needed them to be.

“I can show you what it feels like,” Tymothe said. “I can open doors for both of you that you never even knew existed. All you need do is pledge yourself to me and my cause. Can you do that?”

“What if . . . what if we don’t?” the prisoner named Daveth asked.

Tymothe smiled at him. “You die, of course. But why choose that fate when you could stand at my side as we conquer this world together? You can’t tell me that doesn’t tempt you. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be at least tempted by such a possibility.”

“We’ve sworn oaths,” the prisoner named Harald said. There was a quaver in his voice that made Tymothe want to grin. “What of those? Oathbreakers are of no use to anyone.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” Tymothe said. “You see, neither of you has sworn any oaths to me. Not yet. Swear loyalty to me, to the one who will give you the power both of you has always wanted, and leave your worthless oaths to the Order of Catharzen behind. What could they have ever given you, anyway? Why do they deserve your allegiance?”

“You’ll teach us magic?” Daveth asked.

“I’ll show you how to use it, yes. And I’ll make sure you aren’t limited by something as foolish as spoken spells.” Tymothe looked Daveth in the eye, then added just a bit more to the compulsion spell. If Daveth said anything other than what Tymothe wanted to hear, the man would feel excruciating pain. “Will you swear to me, Daveth?”

Sweat stood out on Daveth’s brow, and he shook as he answered. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Tymothe grinned. “Excellent.” He looked at Harald. “And what of you, boy? Will you swear to me?”

“I-I can’t!” Harald said. Then he screamed and dropped to his knees, clutching at his head.

“Swear to me, and the pain will stop.”

Harald screamed, again.

“If you do not swear to me, the pain will only grow worse. And I will make it last a long time before I allow you to die.”

“I-I swear!” Harald said. He looked up at Tymothe with pleading eyes. “I swear! Please, my Lord, make it stop!”

Tymothe released the compulsion spell. Harald crumpled to the ground, whimpering. Harald would remember that pain for a long, long time, and that memory would go on to solidify the Twisting of his soul. Daveth, it seemed, would need no such memory, a thing that pleased Tymothe greatly. “Take these men away,” Tymothe told the guards. “Make sure they are given food and a place to sleep.”

Daveth went with the guards without having to be prodded. Harald had to be pulled to his feet. As Tymothe watched them be led away, he wondered if either of them would cause a problem. After all, they were the first souls he had ever Twisted, and how could he be sure he’d done a thorough enough job? So what if I didn’t? I will learn from my mistakes and do better, and those men will be dead when I do. And the dead can’t resist me.

“You handled that well, Baron,” the Hidden King said, making himself visible. “I have to wonder, though. Is it wise to allow them to use magic without spells?”

“They will be severely limited if I don’t,” Tymothe said. “If they are to be the first of my new Sword Priests, they must be taught to use magic like I do. And they must be taught that magic is just as much of a weapon as the steel in their hands. You told me what happened to the Sword Priest Atraxos sent to deal with Garrold. His own ignorance nearly got him killed, and it would have if Garrold hadn’t wanted to send King Lyrian a message.”

Tymothe had the sense the Hidden King was smiling. “I take it, then, that this is your way of letting Garrold know his message has been received?”

“It is indeed, Great One.”

The Hidden King laughed. “Excellent, Baron! Excellent!”