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!”

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

The sun hadn’t come up, yet. As he returned to his chambers, Garrold knew that that couldn’t be a good sign. What he wasn’t sure of was if the lack of a sunrise had to do with anything the Baron had done, or with the event Garrold sensed had happened while he slept. It probably had a little to do with both, he reasoned, which meant that the time for preparation and planning had passed. It was time to do something, to move against the dark forces that had taken hold of the land. It may already be too late, though, Garrold thought. And I can’t do it alone. Where is Thaddeus?

When Garrold reached the door to his chambers, he found it open. Hadn’t he closed it when he’d left? And then he sensed the magic. Something – something foul and rotten, an Abomination raised by necromancy – had come to Garrold’s chambers while he was gone, and was now waiting for him. Garrold wondered who the Abomination could be. Not one of the gate guards, of course – they were being taken care of outside, and neither of them had seemed to have any spells on them besides the one that had erased their minds. Could it have been someone from the crypts? Not Therese, Garrold thought. Gods Above, please don’t let it be her. Garrold took a deep breath and walked through the open door.

“Hello, boy.”

Sitting in one of the two chairs on either side of the hearth was a withered figure dressed in tattered clothing. Its eyes glowed like coals, and the hollow voice it spoke in was both familiar, and totally unrecognizable. Garrold knew who the figure was at once, of course. It was his father. And his father had only ever called him “boy” when he was displeased with something Garrold had done.

“Hello, Father,” Garrold said.

“Look at you,” the Abomination said. “Strutting around here like someone important. Plotting the overthrow of your rightful king. And reeking of magic, besides. I thought I raised you better than this, boy.”

“You raised me to always do what was right,” Garrold said. “And that’s what I’m doing.”

The Abomination laughed derisively. “You think treason is right, do you? Do you know where you’ll wind up if you stay on this path? With the headsman’s sword at your neck! I can’t let that happen, Garrold.” It fixed its burning stare on Garrold. “I won’t.”

“You have no say over my actions, anymore, Father.”

“Oh, don’t I?” The Abomination rose and started walking toward Garrold, its hands outstretched. A growl – like that of some vicious, wild animal – rose in its throat, and when next it spoke, its voice had turned raspy and inhuman. “Do you know what will happen if I touch you, boy? Do you?”

The Abomination lunged. Garrold leaped into the air and somersaulted over the Abomination’s head. Reaching his hand out, he called the sword that hung over the mantle – the sword that, as Duke of Telvany, was Garrold’s birthright, but which he had never chosen to wear – into it, blue fire running up its length as he poured some of his magic into the blade. Swinging the sword, Garrold found there was a shield surrounding the Abomination. However, even though the swing did not connect, the magic he’d infused the sword with chipped at the shield, and so he swung again and again, the blows ringing off the shield just as if it were made of metal.

The Abomination was shrieking, now, darting and ducking to avoid the blows of Garrold’s sword, lunging with its claw-like hands as it tried to grab a hold of him. The magic that had raised the Abomination made it fast, but Garrold kept up with it, though more than once he escaped its touch by only a hairsbreadth. Garrold, though he didn’t know enough of the lore to be sure, had a nasty suspicion of what would happen to him if the Abomination – which no longer even came close to resembling his father – touched him, and he used the fear that suspicion gave him to fuel his magic, his attacks becoming more furious as he battered at the Abomination’s shield. Can’t keep this up much longer, he thought, starting to feel the first hints of fatigue begin to settle in.

Taking his sword in one hand, Garrold used his free hand to unleash a blast of blue fire at the Abomination. The Abomination’s shrieks turned into a screech, and its shield splintered. Garrold swung his sword in an arc, beheading the Abomination before it had a chance to react to the loss of its shield. The Abomination continued to screech for a moment, then the sound faded away as if falling down a very deep well. The Abomination’s body crumpled to the floor, and when it hit, it exploded into a cloud of dust.

The door to Garrold’s chambers – which had slammed closed the instant the Abomination had risen and started coming toward him – burst open, then, and Garrold turned to see Wilem, Robert, Stevan, and Sister Niela standing there. Wilem’s staff – glowing faintly – was in his hand, but it was clear from the way she stood that it had been Sister Niela who had blown the door open. “We heard the shrieks,” Wilem said. “Are you all right, Brother?”

Garrold had just beheaded his father’s corpse. He wasn’t sure if he was all right, or not. “I will be,” he said.

“Who was the Abomination?”

“Father.” Garrold went over to the hearth and pulled his sword’s scabbard off of the mantle. “The Baron must have visited the crypts before he left.” He looked at Wilem as he sheathed his sword. “He did it to taunt me, Wilem. Either that, or he greatly underestimated how powerful I am, which, considering how strong it seems he is, I find hard to believe.”

“Why hasn’t the sun come up?” Robert asked from where he stood in the doorway. “Did the Baron do that, too?”

Garrold shook his head. “I don’t think so. Something else happened during the night. Whatever it was, though, it’s going to make our enemies stronger. Are the troops you and Stevan have been helping to train ready to move?”

“As ready as they’ll ever be, Your Grace,” Stevan said.

“Good.” Garrold finished strapping the sword to his waist, then took the Shining Circlet and put it on. “Assemble them in the courtyard.” He looked at Wilem and Niela. “How many of your Brothers and Sisters will be joining us?”

“As many as can be spared,” Wilem said. “Brother, are you sure you’re ready?”

“I have to be, Brother. Time’s running out. If we delay any longer, there will be no stopping the horrors that are coming.”

“What of this person Thaddeus you spoke of? Where is he?”

Garrold reached out with his magic, trying to see if he could sense where Thaddeus – the man who had appeared in Garrold’s study all those weeks ago, claiming to be the Nightslayer – might be. Garrold sensed nothing. “I don’t know, Wilem,” he said quietly. “I just don’t know.”

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

Wilem watched Robert and Stevan take the two dead guards out of the gate house. Once they were gone, he headed for the chapel to rouse Sister Niela, the castle’s cleric. Normally, Niela wouldn’t have been needed to preside over the guards’ burials – commoner burials typically needed neither monk nor cleric, as no special rituals were required – but Wilem feared that, in this case, Niela’s more particular talents might need to be called upon. If that turned out to be the case – if the Baron did already possess the power to raise Abominations – Niela, and all of the other Sisters, besides, would soon become an invaluable asset. But not even they will be enough to turn the tide, he thought.

Wilem found Niela asleep in the small room just off the chapel’s main hall. She awoke as soon as he entered the room, sitting up and turning a troubled look in Wilem’s direction. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“Two of the gate guards are dead,” Wilem said. “They need to be buried, and I want you to be there when it’s done.”

Niela – who had been Valewind’s cleric since before Wilem and Garrold were born, but didn’t look a day over forty – frowned. “Why?”

“Their minds were wiped by a Necromantic spell before they died. I fear there may be others on them that we missed.”

Niela’s eyes widened. “You’re worried they could be raised, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

Niela got out of bed, and Wilem had to hurriedly turn his back to avoid seeing her change out of her shift and into her cleric’s robes. Hearing the rustle of cloth behind him, Wilem was reminded of how beautiful he’d always thought Sister Niela was, and how wrong it would be for him to admit that to someone who’d known him – and ministered to his various injuries and illnesses – since he was a boy. Not to mention to fact that, while it hadn’t been required, Wilem had taken an oath of chastity on becoming a monk, meaning that, no matter how long he’d known Sister Niela, he could never be more to her than just a friend. Purity. Why in Hel’s name did I have to choose purity?

“Done ruminating?” Niela asked. “Or do you want to waste more time standing there looking at your feet?”

Wilem gave her a sheepish smile and led the way out of the chapel. The commoners’ graveyard was behind the main castle, an unadorned patch of earth covered in numerous rounded humps. Each hump represented the grave of a commoner. There were fresh flowers on some – evidence of recent visitation – but most were bare. None of them was marked with a name. At the end of the row of graves nearest the yard’s entrance, Robert and Stevan were busying themselves digging, the bodies of the two gate guards lying on the unbroken ground beside them.

“Brother Wilem!” Robert said, looking up as Wilem and Niela came over. “Sister Niela! We weren’t expecting the two of you.”

“I wanted Sister Niela to examine the bodies before you buried them,” Wilem said. “I need to be sure nothing was missed.”

“Missed?” Stevan asked. “Like what?”

Wilem didn’t answer right away, but did take note that Robert and Stevan each still had their swords. That was good. He watched Niela as she knelt over the bodies of the guards. “Hopefully nothing,” he said at last.

Suddenly, Niela gasped, and Wilem watched in horror as one of the dead guards reached up and grabbed her by the throat. Niela’s hands started to glow with radiant energy, but, before she could cast it, the Abomination threw her back with inhuman force, sending her flying halfway across the graveyard. Wilem vaulted back, holding his hand out to the side as he summoned his staff, which glowed with radiant energy of its own. The staff would protect him from the Abomination’s touch – and would do damage of its own as it did – but, until, and unless, Niela could get back in the fight, Wilem would have to rely on his martial skills, alone.

The Abomination – both guards were Abominations, now, Robert and Stevan drawing their swords to deal with the second one as it came to its feet – rose and charged at Wilem, growling like a feral animal. Wilem dodged and rolled, swinging at the undead horror with his staff. The staff struck, causing the Abomination to screech and steam to rise from its skin, but it kept coming, its eyes glowing in their sockets like a pair of burning coals. Wilem struck. There were more screeches, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

“Don’t let it touch you!” Wilem shouted, whirling just out of the Abomination’s touch, then knocking it back with two wicked strikes from his staff. If either of the Abominations touched any of them, its corruption would spread, turning whoever it touched into another Abomination. And something far worse if it touches me, Wilem thought.

A sudden blast of amber radiance struck the Abomination in front of Wilem and sent it flying. Niela! He looked at her, seeing that, though she looked a little shaken, seemed no worse for wear. Wilem offered her a quick smile, and got one back in return before Niela unleashed another torrent of radiance on the Abomination Robert and Stevan were fighting. Neither Abomination stirred, but Niela hit them both, again, incinerating each with balls of light almost as bright as the sun. Which, once their light faded, Wilem realized had not yet begun to rise. No sunrise. Gods Above, things are worse than I thought.

“Are you two all right?” Wilem asked, looking at Robert and Stevan.

The two Silver Shields sheathed their swords. Amazingly, neither of them looked as shaken as they should have. “We’re all right,” Robert said. He looked at Wilem. “What would have happened if one of those things touched us?”

“You don’t really want an answer to that question,” Niela said.

“Just be thankful it didn’t happen,” Wilem said, dismissing his staff. “The only one of us, here, immune to the touch of one of those horrors is Niela.”

“Almost got me, though,” Niela said, rubbing absently at both her throat and her backside. “Wilem?”

“Yes?”

“If we survive this, would you care to have a drink with me, sometime?”

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

Niela smiled. “I think a lot of old, stuffy oaths just went out the window.” She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you?”

Wilem smiled back. How much did it really matter that Niela had known him since he was a child? “Maybe so.”

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

Garrold sat up in bed, every part of himself instantly awake. Waking up like this, without any trace of drowsiness of grogginess, had become commonplace for him since discovering his magical talents, but it had never been so sudden, so driven by such an overwhelming sense of immediacy. Something had happened while he slept – something that had shaken the very foundations of reality, itself – but, Garrold found, that wasn’t really what mattered, right now. What did matter was that he had overlooked something during his audience with the Baron, something that, for a mage more experienced than Garrold was, should have been as plain as day. Seizing hold of the sense of urgency that had awoken him, Garrold got out of bed and hurried for the door to his chambers, summoning clothes to himself as he went.

Once he reached the hallway outside, Garrold wasn’t at all surprised to find his brother waiting for him. They shared a look, then started down the hallway together. “We have a problem,” Garrold said, looking at Wilem.

“What, only one, Brother?” Wilem asked, smirking.

Garrold’s lips twisted sourly. “The Baron deceived us.” They passed a window, and Garrold saw that it was still dark outside. It wouldn’t be for much longer, though – since becoming aware of his magical abilities, Garrold had always known exactly what time it was – and there was no telling what the Baron would do once day broke. “I should have realized something was off about him the moment I saw him. If I were more experienced at being a mage, I probably would have, but, as it is, I didn’t, and, now, I’ve gone and underestimated him. I let an enemy inside our walls, Wilem. An enemy!”

“So, what do you intend to do, now?”

Garrold shook his head. “I’m not sure.” His anger – and his magic – flared. His magic caused his eyes to flash blue. “Destroy him, perhaps.”

“You can’t do that, Brother.”

Garrold stopped and whirled to face Wilem. “And why is that?” he asked. “I’m the Magister of the Torvaran Empire. I can do what I like!”

“The Torvaran Empire? Garrold, do you know how big this ‘empire’ of yours is? One duchy. Oh, you’ve received oaths and pledges from others, but none of them has actually fought for you, yet. None of their people have died for you. If you kill the Baron, now, inside these walls, Blanchart will never swear itself to you, no matter who it is they wind up fighting for. You gave him your hospitality, Garrold, and you know how sacrosanct that is.”

Garrold thought on that for a moment. Wilem was right, of course. Just like he always was. “What would you suggest, then, Brother?” he asked.

“Confront the Baron if you must, but let him leave unscathed. Let him leave with the understanding that you know his secret. He will tread lightly in the days to come if you do that. I’m certain of it.”

Garrold looked at Wilem for a moment, then nodded. The two of them started walking, again. There was a commotion from up ahead, then the sound of armored boots ringing against stone. Robert and Stevan, wearing the full regalia of the newly reformed Silver Shields, came into view, hurrying down the hall toward Garrold’s chambers. When they saw Garrold and Wilem heading toward them, they stopped, both of them taking a moment to catch their breath.

“Your Grace,” Robert said at last, saluting. “Baron Vabarn and his company are no longer here. No one recalls seeing them leave.”

Garrold frowned. Damnation. “What about the gate guards?”

“They claim to have seen nothing, either, Your Grace,” Stevan said. “Though you may want to talk to them, yourself.”

“Why is that?”

“They don’t seem to be . . . themselves, Your Grace,” Robert said.

“Show me.”

Robert and Stevan led the way out of the main castle and to the gate house. Inside, the two guards were sitting on the floor, their backs propped against the wall and their legs splayed out in front of them. Both of them were awake – their eyes were open, anyway – but neither of them seemed fully aware of their surroundings. Garrold could sense the magic on them, at once, and it was clear from Wilem’s reaction that his brother could, as well. “Can you identify the spell?” he asked Wilem.

“It’s a form of compulsion,” Wilem said. “Whatever you ask these two, they’ll tell you exactly what whoever put it on them will want them to.”

“Can it be undone?”

“Only by a Spellbreaker.” Wilem looked at Garrold. “And breaking it will kill the guards.”

Garrold knelt down in front of one of the guards and peered into his eyes. They were glassy, vacant, and when Garrold waved a hand in front of them, the guard did not blink. “What will happen to these men if it isn’t broken?” he asked.

“They’ll stay like this until they die,” Wilem said.

Garrold looked up at his brother. “This was necromancy, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes. Garrold, can you tell who cast it?”

Garrold looked at the guards for a moment, then closed his eyes, focusing on the magic that made up the spell which had stolen their minds from them. While it was largely the same Arcane magic Garrold felt coming from himself, there was a darkness to it, a cold, twisted cruelty. That cold, twisted cruelty was the hallmark of the Necromantic Arts, but, as Garrold probed at it, he found that it went beyond that, that it was, in fact, the signature of the caster, himself. Garrold opened his eyes. “It was the Baron,” he said quietly. Then, quieter still, “This was my fault.”

“You didn’t know what he was, Garrold,” Wilem said. “Neither of us did. That was part of his deception.”

Garrold rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving the now mindless guards. “Was it?” he asked. “If I am to be Magister, if I truly am as powerful as you think I am, I should have been able to see the spells he was wrapped in. I should have been able to sense his talent. I was blind, though. And now, my blindness has cost these two men their lives.”

For a time, the only sound in the gate house was the crackle of fire in the braziers. And then Garrold reached his hand out the guards, holding it still for a moment before slowly closing his fist. The guards’ eyes closed and they slumped over, looking for all the world like they had fallen into a peaceful sleep. I am sorry, my friends, Garrold thought. Rest well.

“What are your orders, Your Grace?” Robert asked.

“See these men get a proper burial,” Garrold said. “Then, tomorrow, we march.”

“Are you all right, Brother?” Wilem asked.

Garrold looked at him, then turned and left the gate house.

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

It felt good for all of them to be together, again, especially considering that Thaddeus had been afraid that, the next time he saw Aylander, he would have to kill him. At first, right after they’d witnessed Aylander’s killing of the dragon, Father Alvarem – it was still impossible for Thaddeus to think of him as Horace – had been convinced that they would have no other choice. According to him, once someone gave into the temptations of the Abyss as Aylander had done, there was no turning back. The Demon Lords had given in to those temptations, after all, and it had corrupted them utterly, their corruption spreading to Atraxos the Black and all of his followers. But what if, Thaddeus had asked then, one of those followers had had his soul cleansed by a Scourger, as had happened to Aylander when Thaddeus had killed his original body?

Father Alvarem had admitted, then, that he hadn’t considered that possibility. Because the majority of souls cleansed by Scourgers were never given the chance to inhabit a new body – Aylander’s soul had been the first soul that Father Alvarem could remember such a chance being given to, and, Thaddeus knew, there was no one with a better knowledge of lore than Horace Alvarem – there had been very little to indicate what might happen to Aylander once he gave in to the Abyss’s temptations. There had, of course, still been a high likelihood he would become corrupted, but Father Alvarem had also felt that, because of his all but unique situation, there was a chance Aylander might turn out differently, that giving in to the powers the Abyss offered him might turn him in to something new. Or, as Father Alvarem had said, then, something that hadn’t been seen in millennia.

Thaddeus glanced over at Aylander, eyeing, again, the sigil that had appeared on his tabard. Of course, it reminded him of the staff Adarion had been carrying when they’d faced the Demon Lords, which, he figured, was the point. Why would Adarion’s sign be anything else? Thaddeus was also familiar with the myths about the Sign Unknowable – the part of him that had been the Wanderer had learned a lot of lore, himself, during the twenty years of his existence – and knew that the Sign Unknowable was supposed to have a companion sign, the Sign Universal. Like the Sign Unknowable, none of the myths described the Sign Universal, but they did say it would appear as a rune, and that that rune would be inscribed on a powerful weapon. There are runes on my sword, Thaddeus thought. Adarion recognized them. Could one of them be the Sign Universal?

If Aylander had been marked with the Sign Unknowable, and Thaddeus carried the Sign Universal on his sword, what did that mean? Were they to become the forces that reshaped creation? Were they to become gods? Thaddeus was still trying to get used to be the Nightslayer. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, yet, to take up the mantle of a god. And, besides, the trinity was still incomplete. The Eltaran myths also spoke of the Nurturer, someone – presumably female, but the myths were vague on that point – who carried no sign of their own, but who provided the spark that made the other two signs work together. Unless . . .

“You’re brooding, again,” Zoe said.

Thaddeus looked at her. Could she be the Nurturer? “Sorry,” he said, then smirked. “We are in the middle of something serious, however.”

“True,” she said, then matched his smirk with one of her own. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, though.”

Thaddeus chuckled. “That sounds like some kind of proverb. Where’d you hear it?”

“Indeed,” Father Alvarem said, appearing as a ball of light hovering between them. “I’d like to know that, too.”

Zoe frowned, then shook her head. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard it, before. It just seemed like the right thing to say.”

“Fascinating,” Father Alvarem said, then winked out, only to appear, again, in the air in front of them, leading the way to the ruined city that, it seemed, only he was capable of leading them to.

“Reality is very thin, here,” Aylander said.

“Do you think things are bleeding through?” Zoe asked him.

“It’s possible. Though where they’re bleeding through from is anyone’s guess.”

“The Abyss lies between all the different planes of reality,” Thaddeus said. “It’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. There’s something, though – just a sense I have, really – that, once, eons ago, it was the only plane of reality, and that something fractured it.”

“I get that sense, too,” Aylander said. “I think the city we’re headed to used to belong to the people who used to live here.”

“The people who used to live here?” Zoe asked. “Who do you think they were?”

“I don’t know,” Thaddeus said. “They’re the ones who made the Creatures of the Abyss, though. They were their constructs.”

“The Gods Beyond the Gods,” Aylander said. “That’s what my people called them. That, or the Old Ones. The stories we used to tell of them were mainly just used to frighten unruly children, however. No one actually believed they existed.”

“I don’t think any of us would be here if they didn’t,” Thaddeus said. “I think we’re their descendants.”

“That isn’t exactly a comforting thought, brother. The Old Ones were supposed to be unimaginably powerful and cruel.”

“Of course they were. Why would they be frightening, otherwise?”

“Well, it sure seems the unimaginably powerful part was true,” Zoe said. “You only need to look at this place if you want proof of that.” She looked at Thaddeus. “What do you think happened?”

Thaddeus shook his head. “I don’t know. Whatever it was, though, I think they caused it. I also get the impression that it was an accident.”

“They overextended themselves,” Aylander said. “Just as my people did.”

“The only difference was,” Father Alvarem said from in front of them, “they did it on their own, without any kind of outside influence. Makes me feel sad for them, in a way.”

“My people did it to themselves, too,” Aylander said. “We just refused to acknowledge it.”

“Pride has a tendency to be blinding, sometimes,” Father Alvarem said.

Aylander’s voice dropped until it was almost a whisper. “Indeed.”

“We’re such a cheerful bunch,” Zoe said after a few moments of silence.

“We sure are,” Thaddeus agreed with her, keeping his voice flat and deadpan. That caused them all – even Father Alvarem – to laugh.

It didn’t take them much longer – so it seemed – to reach the ruined city. The light began to fade from the sky as soon as they did – night fell even here, in the Abyss – and they decided to make camp just inside one of the ruined buildings. Aylander conjured a fire and they all sat around it, staring into the flames silently, Zoe scooting close to Thaddeus so that the could put his arm around her, which he did. Having her beside him made Thaddeus realize how much he’d missed her, and he hugged her tight – which, without warning, made him see and feel what she’d gone through since arriving in the Abyss. He gasped, but Zoe didn’t say anything, and just snuggled closer, hugging him as tight as he hugged her.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” Thaddeus whispered into her hair.

“Don’t be, my love,” Zoe murmured into his neck. “You’re here, now, and that’s all that matters.”

A short time later, just as Thaddeus was about to drift off to sleep – Zoe had already fallen asleep, Thaddeus laying her down gently beside him – something stirred from deeper inside the building. Standing slowly and pulling his sword out of its scabbard, Thaddeus faced the direction the sound had come from. Aylander came up beside him, his own sword – no longer inky black, as it had been before, but now a silver blade that glowed with a faint, blue light – in his hand.

“You heard it, too?” Aylander asked, keeping his voice low.

Thaddeus nodded. “Can you see anything?”

Aylander stared into the dark depths of the building for a moment, then shook his head. “No. There is something there, however.” He looked at Thaddeus. “And, whatever it is, it’s scared.”

“You can show yourself,” Thaddeus said, lowering his sword. “We won’t harm you.”

“Who – or what – are you talking to, Thaddeus?”

Father Alvarem had assumed human form and come up to stand with them. Thaddeus looked at him. “You mean you can’t sense it?” he asked.

“I don’t sense anything. I didn’t hear anything, either.” Father Alvarem looked back at Thaddeus. “Are you sure there’s something there?”

“There is,” Aylander said. Then he frowned, and looked once again into the darkness. “Or, at least, there was.”

“You can’t sense it, anymore?” Thaddeus asked.

“No. Whatever it was, it’s gone, now.”

Thaddeus continued to look into the building’s darkness for a moment, then turned back to the fire and sat, putting his sword back in its scabbard. Zoe still slept peacefully beside him – like Father Alvarem, it seemed she had neither heard, nor sensed anything. Thaddeus looked across the fire at Aylander. “Do you think we’re being watched?” he asked.

“I’m certain of it,” Aylander said. He looked at Father Alvarem. “And you have no idea what it could be?”

“None, though, in a place like this, I’m sure there are still things even I don’t know about. You said it was afraid?”

“Yes.” Aylander paused for a moment, staring thoughtfully into the flames. “But I don’t think it was afraid of us.”

“What, then?” Thaddeus asked.

Aylander looked at him. “I think it was afraid of whoever sent it,” he said. “Terrified of them, even.”

A spy more afraid of its masters than it was of the people it had been sent to spy on. And, whatever it was, Father Alvarem and Zoe seemed completely blind to it. What kind of creatures, he wondered, were they about to face? It was a long time after Thaddeus settled down before he was able to get to sleep.