Lighting flashed in the distance, throwing a line of craggy mountains into silhouette. Aylander sat on the ground beside a fire burning inside of a ring of stones. Two rabbits on skewers sizzled above the fire, but, somehow, Aylander understood that they would never be done cooking. Not that he was hungry. In fact, after all the time he’d spent in the Abyss – which might have only been a few days, or could have been years – Aylander wasn’t sure he even remembered what hunger felt like.
“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” the man who sat across the fire from Aylander said. Though he looked human, there was a feral, almost wolfish quality to his features, and the faded blue clothes he wore were of a style Aylander had never seen, before. The man smiled just as there was another flash of lighting, his lips pulling back to reveal unnaturally sharpened incisors. “Me, on the other hand? I’m starving.”
“Where am I?” Aylander asked.
The man chuckled. “Oh, come on. That doesn’t matter, does it? What you really want to know is who I am. Isn’t it?”
“You’re one of the Old Ones,” Aylander said.
The man threw back his head and laughed. When he brought his gaze back down, Aylander saw that the fire was reflected perfectly in his otherwise featureless black eyes. “Excellent guess, Aylander! Truly excellent!” He reached over and took one of the skewers, biting into the underdone rabbit that Aylander. “Did you know, though?” the man said as he chewed, juice – and blood – dripping down his chin. “I’ve got a name. Would you like to know it?”
“What is it?”
“I’ve got lots of names, actually. Nyarlathotep. Maerlyn. Flagg. Walter.” The man laughed, again. “You can call me The Walkin’ Dude. Or the Hard Case, if you like.”
Aylander had heard one of those names, before – Nyarlathotep. Nyarlathotep was a trickster demon from Eltaran mythology, a creature that took great pleasure in causing as much chaos as it could. That it also happened to be the name of one of the Old Ones – Aylander refused to think of them as the Gods Beyond the Gods, as true gods wouldn’t abuse their power as much as the stories said the Old Ones did – didn’t surprise him in the least. “What do you want?” Aylander asked.
The Hard Case had finished his rabbit, and all trace of juice and blood on his chin had vanished. Then he reached for the second skewer. He didn’t take a bite of the second rabbit right away, however. Instead, he studied the skewer thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “I want to know what makes you so special.”
“What do you mean?”
The skewer in the Hard Case’s hand suddenly vanished, and he was now dressed in a hooded black robe. The glitter of reflected firelight stared out at Aylander from under the man’s hood for a long time before he answered. “You didn’t give in,” he said at last. “Why?”
Aylander knew what the man meant. “I almost did. My friends pulled me back. They showed me why it was wrong.”
“Your friends? Don’t you mean your family? That’s what they think of you, anyway. And why did what they did matter? You’re Eltaran. Not only that, your soul is Twisted. Or was, at any rate. There is no way you should have been able to avoid the temptation of power.”
“Who says I avoided the temptation?” Aylander asked. “Maybe I simply decided to use the power in a way no one ever had, before.”
“Maybe,” the Hard Case said, “but how long can you keep it up? That power can make you all but a god. You know that. And it won’t leave you once you escape from the Abyss. If anything, once you take it back to your own world, it will be even stronger.”
Aylander smiled. “I think I can handle it.”
“Do you? Once upon a time, my people thought they could, as well. We almost destroyed the entire cosmos as a result.”
“Only almost, though. What kept you from finishing the job?”
It was a long moment before the Hard Case answered. “I don’t really know,” he said at last. “Cooler heads must have prevailed, I suppose.”
“Cooler heads,” Aylander said. “Cooler heads who still had all that power. They saw what they were doing, though, and stopped themselves. They even tried to stabilize what was left, didn’t they?”
“You already know the answer to that. You wouldn’t be here talking to me if they hadn’t.”
“The sign on my tabard. Adarion’s Sign. The Sign Unknowable. You gave it to me, didn’t you?”
“We did.”
“Have you ever given it to anyone, before?”
“No. Though the one who preceded you could have been given it. He was worthy enough. The time, however, was not yet right.”
“Why is the time right, now?”
“Because the end is finally coming. Because, one way or the other, once this is all over, there will once again be balance.”
“Whether the Demon Lords are defeated or not, right?”
The Hard Case poked at the fire with a stick that had suddenly appeared in his hand. “Yes,” he said.
“And what if they win?” Aylander asked. “Will that matter to you? Since you gave me the Sign, I have to think that it will.”
“We’re not sure,” the Hard Case said. He looked at Aylander. “And that frightens us.”
“You trust me to wield my powers, don’t you?”
The Hard Case laughed. “Trust you? I wouldn’t go quite that far. However, because you didn’t give in, and because you believe that you won’t, we decided to take a leap of faith. Please don’t prove us wrong.”
“You do know that Thaddeus was tempted by these powers, too, don’t you?”
“Of course. You are with him, though. As is Zoe. You balance each other. You make each other complete. This we’ve already seen. Our leap of faith wasn’t just for you, Aylander. It was for all of you.”
Aylander was silent for a time, staring into the fire. In the distance, lighting flashed again. There was no thunder. “I will do what I can to make sure your faith in us is not misplaced,” he finally said. He looked across the fire. “I swear it.”
“Don’t lose faith in yourself in the process,” the Hard Case said. “Or in your family. Though you have more tools than you did, before, the road ahead of you will not be an easy one.”
“Can you tell me what the Sign Unknowable does?”
The Hard Case – who, again, looked like he had when their talk first began – smiled. “Many things,” he said. “I could tell you what, and how many, but those are things you’ll have to learn for yourself. I will tell you, though, that it is the perfect counterpart to the magical arts you call Necromancy.”
That sounded intriguing. “How perfect?”
“In every way. Farewell, now, Aylander. And good luck.” The Hard Case grinned. “Eat something good for me when you get back.”
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