Nightslayer - Chapter Fifty-Nine

 

Reforming the bridge across Gelevan Gorge was a surprisingly simple task. As the first bridge had been made, at least in part, by magical spells, all Garrold had to do was recall them. Once he’d done that, though nothing physical had been placed, yet, over the magical energies, all he had to do was walk across the Gorge. A Spellbreaker would have made this task more time consuming, and would have left Garrold more drained after he had reconstructed the spells from the residual energy, but, seeing as the Baron had no Spellbreakers in his employ, it took Garrold no time, at all.

Garrold cloaked himself in darkness the moment he reached the western side of the Gorge. One of the Baron’s Twisted Sword Priests might have been able to locate him, but, strangely, none of them were about – it was as if something else had attracted their attention. Garrold didn’t know what that might have been, but he did sense a great deal of magic being used near a slight rise a ways back from the edge of the Gorge, so he figured that that might have been it. In fact, he paused for a moment to look in that direction. Whatever was going on over there, it was intense, and involved other powers than normal magical spells. Maybe Thaddeus is over there, Garrold thought. Maybe he’s dealing with a Demon Lord that decided not to involve itself in the battle.

A part of Garrold wanted to go over and find out what was happening, but that was not why he was here. He was here to confront the Baron and bring an end to their rivalry once and for all. Did that mean the Baron would die? Garrold didn’t know, but he hoped not. Despite what the Baron had done, Garrold still felt that he could help with the reconstruction of the Empire. He just has to agree to listen to me. I hope that he will.

There was a large tent in the middle of the Baron’s camp. Garrold knew at once that the Baron was inside of it. Something had changed about the magical sense the Baron gave off, but he was still a mage, and his magic was concentrated within the tent. Garrold suddenly had a sense that the Baron was hiding – something had happened that frightened him greatly, making him feel almost powerless – and that sense was bolstered by the wards that had been placed around the tent. Garrold didn’t know if he could break those wards, but he felt he should at least try. If he failed, maybe he could talk to the Baron through them and get him to let him inside. Garrold walked up to the tent flap and reached out with his magic, probing the Baron’s wards for gaps.

There were no immediately obvious gaps. Garrold relaxed his probe. “Baron Vabarn?” he said. “Are you in there?”

There was no answer.

“Baron, I’ve come to talk,” Garrold said. “I mean you no harm, provided you let me into your tent. May I come in?”

Garrold waited for a moment, and then the wards around the Baron’s tent relaxed. Garrold stepped inside. The Baron sat at a wooden table, a mug of Telvan brandy in front of him. He looked washed out, broken, old. He had not regained his weight, however – that part of the spells which, previously, had hidden his true nature had not returned.

“Are you here to kill me, Garrold?” the Baron asked. He did not look up as he spoke.

“Only if I have to, Tymothe,” Garrold said. “Something’s changed about you. What happened?”

The Baron looked up at him. “A god appeared to me, Garrold,” he said. “A god. He stripped way my powers to command the dead. He broke me.” He looked back down at his mug of brandy. “And made me realize how incredibly stupid I have been.”

“This god may have stripped way your powers to command the dead,” Garrold said, “but he left your other powers intact. The wards around this tent speak to that. And who among us has never done something they later regretted? Tymothe, do you understand that, in the strictest sense, you did nothing wrong? You intended to take King Lyrian’s place. You intended to preserve the kingdom. Those are the acts of a true patriot.”

“I courted dark powers to do it, though, Garrold.” The Baron looked up. “How can anyone forgive such a thing?”

Garrold walked over and sat across the table for the Baron. He grabbed a spare mug and poured himself a brandy of his own. “It is a difficult thing,” he said, taking a sip, “but difficult does not necessarily mean impossible. Would you be willing to swear fealty to me, Baron?”

The Baron snorted. “Fealty? Garrold, I deserve to be hanged.”

“That’s for me to decide, though, isn’t it?” Garrold said. “Swear fealty to me, agree to join my Council of Mages, and there will be no gibbet for you. You have my word.”

“What of Blanchart?”

“You will still be its Baron. A place on the Council wouldn’t strip of you any title.”

“And how can you be sure I wouldn’t do, again, what I tried to do this time?”

Garrold started at the Baron for a long time. “Are you an oathbreaker, Tymothe?” he asked.

“Never,” the Baron said.

“Then swear your oath to me, here and now, and I will never doubt you. What say you, Tymothe Vabarn? Will you swear fealty to the Magister of the Torvaran Empire?”

The Baron looked away for a moment and took a final sip from his mug of brandy. Then he looked up at Garrold and said, “I so swear, Your Grace. My sword is yours to command.”

Garrold smiled. “Thank you, Tymothe,” he said.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” the Baron said. He paused for a moment, studying him. “Your father would have been proud of you. As am I.”

“Just remember I forgave you, Baron,” Garrold said. “It would be unfortunate for you if you forgot.”

“I will, Your Grace. I will.”

The longer Thaddeus and Magnus fought, the more things Thaddeus came to realize. Some of the things he realized came through direct memory transfer – each time his sword clashed with Magnus’s, Thaddeus gained an insight into Magnus’s memory, and some of those insights made him question what he thought he knew about the man he thought of as the Hidden King. The Hidden King was supposed to be the leader of the Demon Lords. Even Hel, the Mother of Monsters and Queen of the Underworld, was supposed to bow to him. But, as Thaddeus fought him, he learned that these things were not necessarily true.

The first thing Thaddeus learned was how Hel had turned Magnus. It was not, he saw at once, all that different from the way she was trying to turn him. Magnus had been a Nightslayer, once – a good one, based on what Thaddeus was able to learn from his memories – but, in the end, had found it difficult to raise his sword against Hel. Hel had seduced him, of course, and, in so doing, had turned him to her cause, but had Thaddeus allowed himself to be so easily influenced? Was he so swayed by the temptation of flesh? While it was true that Hel was attractive – extremely so – was that enough in and of itself to make him turn?

Even if it wasn’t, though, could Thaddeus do anything about the path he had set himself on? That he would kill Magnus was a given – Magnus’s power was nowhere near Thaddeus’s, and defeating him would be relatively easy – but did that mean Thaddeus had to take Magnus’s place at Hel’s side? Yes, Thaddeus had already sworn himself to Hel, but oaths could be broken. Couldn’t they?

As he and Magnus fought, there were other memories that transferred to Thaddeus. What was the book Magnus kept thinking about, the one that was titled The Seven Points of Night? There was something extremely important about that book – especially about where it was located – and it was something Magnus had been guarding for a long, long time. Thaddeus wanted to know why – wished, even, that he had the chance to interrogate Magnus – but all he had now was the fight, the fight that, in the end, he was sure to win.

What would Thaddeus do once he’d won? Tell Hel what he’d learned, of course – but what else? Would he allow himself to become a thrall to her will the same way Magnus had? And what of Aylander and Zoe? Thaddeus knew that Hel would want him to kill both of them, but a part of him, deep down inside, didn’t want to do it. He didn’t understand why – not fully – but killing them would be something he was all but incapable of doing. Once Thaddeus had beaten Magnus, Hel could probably do it, herself, but, even then, Thaddeus didn’t know if he could allow her. Aylander was his brother, after all, and hadn’t at least a part of him loved Zoe? And did it even really matter? Hel would give Thaddeus rewards for killing Zoe and Aylander that no one else would have, in a thousand lifetimes, been able to give him.

Did that matter, though? Did it? Thaddeus found himself uncertain, which was something he didn’t like, at all. He didn’t allow his uncertainty to slow him down, however. He fought Magnus with everything he had, and, when Magnus began using magical attacks to bolster what he’d already been throwing at Thaddeus, Thaddeus countered them with magical attacks and defenses of his own. As they fought, and as it became more and more certain that Thaddeus was going to win, Thaddeus found himself caring less and less what Hel did for him once Magnus was dead. Going into this battle, all he had wanted was whatever reward she had to offer, but, now, as the end of the battle drew closer, he started to think about what Hel giving him that reward would mean. It would pin him to her side – much the same way as Magnus had been pinned since the time he was turned – and that was something Thaddeus couldn’t tolerate. He was meant for so much more than serving another person’s whims.

Thaddeus also understood that he was stronger than Magnus ever had been. Beating him – which was becoming more and more inevitable – wouldn’t have been so easy, otherwise. Magnus didn’t have access to the same powers Thaddeus did. He couldn’t channel the raw chaos of the darkness like Thaddeus could. Magnus was powerful, but only in relation to other mages – he was no god, which, as the moments passed, Thaddeus felt he was coming closer and closer to becoming. I am stronger, Thaddeus thought. But does that mean I’m better? And, if it does, why should I be doomed to the same fate of serving at Hel’s side?

You don’t have to be, Thaddeus, a voice inside Thaddeus’s head said. It was a man’s voice he hadn’t heard before, but, all at once, he knew it was Magnus’s. Serving at her side doesn’t have to be your fate.

Why should I believe you? Thaddeus asked the voice, even as he and Magnus engaged in a particularly furious exchange of blows.

You’ve already touched my mind, Thaddeus. You’ve already seen my memories. Doesn’t that tell you anything?

Thaddeus considered Magnus’s words. Did seeing the man’s memories tell him anything? And then Thaddeus realized something – the book that dominated Magnus’s memories, the one titled The Seven Points of Night, was something that Hel knew nothing about. Magnus had been hiding anything he knew about it from her almost from the moment he had been turned. There was, it seemed, a secret in or about that book that Hel couldn’t be allowed to know, a secret that, even after all this time, Magnus still protected. Which meant, Thaddeus realized, that Hel hadn’t fully turned Magnus, after all. A part of him had always been a Nightslayer.

Yes, Thaddeus, Magnus said. And now that secret is yours. A secret that you must defend.

Before Thaddeus understood what was happening, Magnus let his guard down, allowing Thaddeus’s sword through so that it could decapitate him. Thaddeus wasn’t able to stop himself, and, in a matter of only a few brief seconds, Magnus fell to the ground, dead. Looking down at the headless body, Thaddeus decided that, no matter what, Hel could not be allowed to have the information about The Seven Points of Night. Magnus had guarded that information with his life, and, now that his life had ended, it was up to Thaddeus to take up the burden. I am a Nightslayer, he thought. A Nightslayer!

“You swore yourself to me, Thaddeus.” Hel had walked up beside him. “To me! Tell me what he shared with you. Tell me!”

Thaddeus looked at her. He could tell Hel was powerful, but so was he. More powerful than he could ever have imagined. Yes, he had called Hel Mistress, but what did that really mean? Magnus, in his own way, had defied her for thousands of years, and he hadn’t been nearly as powerful as Thaddeus was. “Why should I?” Thaddeus asked. He gestured and Magnus’s headless corpse. “He never did.”

“You think you are as powerful as he was?” Hel asked.

“If I weren’t,” Thaddeus said, “he wouldn’t be dead, right now. I am more powerful than he was, and I’m sure you can sense it. He shared something with me, yes, but I will never share it with you. Not if I live ten times as long as he did. Or a hundred!”

“You think yourself more powerful than me.” Hel looked at him, then shook her head. “You aren’t, you know? In the end, you will turn out just as weak as Magnus was, and you will share with me what his memories showed you.”

“No, my Lady,” Thaddeus said. “I will not. I am a Nightslayer, and it is my sworn duty to protect any information that might give you an advantage. Such is what Magnus shared with me. You shall never have it.”

“Think again, worm!”

Hel reached out to Thaddeus with her power. Her actions were so sudden, so swift, that Thaddeus had no time to react, and, as soon as her power touched him, he was driven to his knees. A searing pain had stabbed into his brain, white hot and agonizing, and there was nothing he could do to get rid of it. That pain twisted and turned, searching for what it wanted, each movement increasing Thaddeus’s agony a hundredfold. He tried to expel Hel’s touch – he battered and railed against it with everything he had – but it would not budge, digging ever deeper into his mind. And then, all at once, it pulled back. But the pain did not recede with it, and Thaddeus suddenly realized that his eyes were bleeding.

Whatever had been done to his mind could not be reversed. The knowledge given to Thaddeus by his contact with Magnus had been torn from him, and a tattered ruin had been left behind. I’m going to die, Thaddeus realized. I’m going to die, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

“You betrayed me, Thaddeus,” Hel said, stepping up close to him and placing her finger under his chin. She turned his face up toward her. “No one who does that lives. Not Magnus. Not you. And you did give me what I needed. I know where to look, now. And, now that I know, the Key will be mine. Just as it should have been so long ago.” Hel smiled. “Thank you, Thaddeus. I promise that your gift will not be forgotten.”

Hel pulled her finger away and vanished. Thaddeus remained there, on his knees, for a moment longer, then he toppled forward. Closing his eyes, he wished for nothing else but an end to the pain that filled his mind like a raging inferno. I failed, Thaddeus thought in the moment before he lost consciousness. I failed!

All at once, the bindings that held Zoe to the ground disappeared. She immediately pushed herself to her feet and ran over to where Thaddeus had fallen beside the headless body of the Hidden King. Dropping to her knees, she probed him with her magic – and was horrified by what she found. Thaddeus was very near death, and, despite her strengths as the Mother of the Order of Catharzen and as a Sorceress, Zoe didn’t think there was anything she could do for him. “No,” she said, her voice hardly louder than a whisper. Then the whisper turned harsher. “No!”

“He’s dying, isn’t he?”

Zoe looked up at Aylander, who had come over beside her. “Yes,” she said. Her voice shook and her eyes swam with tears. “And there’s nothing I can do about it!”

Aylander knelt and put his hand on her shoulder. “No, there isn’t,” he said, his voice incredibly gentle. “You have to let him go, Zoe. We can’t do anything for him, anymore.”

Zoe shook her head. “I can’t accept that, Aylander. I can’t! You’re a god, now. Isn’t there something you can do that I can’t?”

Aylander smiled sadly. “I can’t save him anymore than you can. All I can do is accept his spirit once he has passed on.” He glanced at Thaddeus. “Which won’t be very long, now.” His eyes found hers, again. “Zoe, I need you touch him with your power before he dies. He’s in pain. He’s suffering. Please ease his passing.”

“I can’t, Aylander.” Zoe looked down at Thaddeus. “I-I can’t. What am I supposed to do without him?” She looked pleadingly back at Aylander. “What?”

“Live on, Zoe,” Aylander said softly. “I know that’s what Thaddeus would want you to do. Live on, and never forget him.”

“Never.” Zoe reached down and laid her hand on Thaddeus’s forehead. Touching him with her power, she whispered, “Rest now, my love. Rest. I will always love you, Thaddeus, and I will never forget you.”

Zoe felt the last of Thaddeus’s life force flicker and die. At the end, he hadn’t been suffering. She closed her eyes and wept silently.

“Zoe!” Aylander said. “Look!”

Zoe opened her eyes and looked at Aylander. He was pointing down toward Thaddeus’s body. Turning her head, Zoe saw it wasn’t Thaddeus’s body Aylander was pointing at – it was his sword. One of the runes on the sword was glowing – no, not glowing, blazing with brilliant, radiant energy. Zoe probed the rune with her magic and was almost physically thrown back by what she touched. She knew what that rune was, now, too – the Sign of Unity, which she knew was meant to compliment Aylander’s Sign Unknowable.

“What is it?” Aylander asked her. It was clear he’d noticed her reaction to what she’d touched. “Are you all right?” Then his eyes widened and he pointed at her neck. “What’s that?”

The thing Aylander pointed at was glowing just like the rune on Thaddeus’s sword. Zoe knew what it was – a pendant engraved with a rune of its own that had been given to her by Father Alvarem when she had been raised to the level of full cleric – and she even thought she suspected why it had begun to glow. The rune on the pendant complimented the rune on Thaddeus’s sword, and, if it did, that also meant it complemented the rune emblazoned on Aylander’s tabbard. So why isn’t Aylander’s sign glowing like mine and Thaddeus’s?

Zoe reached her hand out to Aylander. She didn’t know why she did it, only that it seemed like the thing she should do. “Take my hand,” she said. He reached out and took it, grasping it tightly. The instant he did, the rune on his tabbard started to glow – as did his eyes. Zoe smiled – her eyes glowed as well, now – then took her free hand and placed it, again, on Thaddeus’s forehead.

None of the three of them could say for certain exactly what happened, next. The reason was probably because they were at the center of the effect, and were, each of them, very much a part of it. The accounts they heard afterwards, however, seemed fanciful even to them. Whatever happened, however, a power had been called down that night – a power stronger than any individual god, which, the three of them learned, were nothing more than extremely powerful users of magic – and it had brought something back into the world that should have been lost forever. When it departed, three gods were left behind in its place, and those three gods were one – the new Divine Council, and the first true Divine Council that had existed since before the Cataclysm.