by M. K. Gibson
“I’ll bite my own tongue off before telling him anything,” Branwen said.
“Stay strong,” Valliar said. “We must face the fallout.”
“I will,” the goddess said. “Go, now. I can feel that the ritual is nearly complete. He is summoning me. If you have to . . . kill her. Damn the ancient accords.”
Valliar looked down at Evie who, despite the tears in her eyes, had her jaw set in utter defiance. The High God put a hand on her shoulder.
“If it comes to that, I will.”
And then, Valliar, and the vision of the past, vanished.
“No!” I screamed as I fell back a couple of steps. The effort to control the well had drained me to the point of nearly blacking out. My breath came in ragged gasps. Both Lydia and Myst were beside me.
“Slowly,” Myst said. “Slow breaths.”
I nodded.
“We saw her, Jackson,” Lydia said, her voice for the first time having a tinge of hope. “We saw our daughter.”
“And now we know where to go next,” I said, standing with the help of both women.
“And now,” Dmitrius’s voice said from the Umbra, “We also know.”
“What?” was all I could say before the Zenith Umbra vanished.
My ship, my embassy, which had been floating mere feet away, was simply gone in a flash of blue-white energy.
The sky split, and a crackling boom of thunder and lightning echoed across the endless ocean. The waves grew higher and higher. It was clear that in moments, Erinerung, the Island of Memory, would be swallowed beneath the cold, dark waters of Horreich. And us with it.
Well, shit.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Where I Improvise, Make a Call, and Make a Sacrifice
“Jackson,” Lydia said, “what just happened?”
I looked at my wife, then back at the empty space where the Umbra had been. “I have no idea.”
I reached into my coat’s inner pocket and pulled out the crude communications device and extended the antennae. “Sophia? Sophia, are you there? Sophia!”
The device simply crackled with white noise. Sophia, wherever she was, did not answer. Which meant she, and the ship, were no longer in the universe of Horreich. We were alone. Abandoned.
The storm raged on and the waves grew higher. Erinerung’s power, or more likely Branwen’s, had mostly likely kept the ocean from swallowing the island. But without the goddess in her dimension, we were soon going to drown under the dark waves.
“Shit,” I cursed, throwing the bulky comm device to the ground in frustration.
“Then what are we to do?!” my wife half roared over the mounting storm. “We have to escape! We have to save Evie!”
I looked around the island, all fifty feet of it, and there was nothing. The waves were rising to unimaginable heights. From my perspective on the small patch of land, the crests seemed to block out the sky. I felt like a mountain climber standing before the Himalayas and felt . . . small.
I did not care for it.
“Boss, if you have a plan, then now’s the time,” Myst said. My minion, like Lydia and me, was scared. She turned in all directions and her body trembled, partly from the wet cold and partly from the inevitable fear all mortals feel when faced with the truly awesome, and uncaring, power of nature.
Mankind, in their arrogance, likes to think they are capable of bending the world to their will. In defiance of nature, they create bridges, roads, and buildings. The earth responds with great quakes, destroying their works. When mankind creates airplanes to fly through the sky, nature creates great storms, plucking those souls from the sky and casting them towards the unyielding ground. And when mankind creates ships to sail upon the backs of the oceans, the deep waters reach out and embrace the massive and small ships alike, drowning them in the crushing depths of the endless abyss.
Which was why I chose to become a god. Mankind was beneath me. And so are the laws of morality you morons cling to.
For my daughter, there was nothing I would not do.
I looked at Myst. My sweet employee. One of the best minions I’d ever had. Myst had once been Doris, and she hailed from a comic book universe’s reboot of 1940’s golden age culture. I’d first taken her for something of a Stepford Wife. But shortly after coming into my service as Myst, she had explained that she had been a parent . . . for two minutes.
Myst, and her formerly abusive husband Harold, had lost their daughter during childbirth. The unnamed infant had lived for only two minutes. Myst said it was because the child’s lungs weren’t ready for the world, and if they had had the medicine and technology we took for granted in the modern world, then her child would have had a chance at life. Myst told me she had lived a lifetime in those two minutes. A forever changed life.
Which was why I knew she would understand what I had to do next.
I looked at Myst and snapped my fingers. Instantly the power that made her Myst was gone, and she was simply Doris.
“Boss?! What are you doing?!”
I looked at Lydia and held out my hand. “Give me one of your knives,” I said.
“Jackson?”
“Do you want me to save Evie?” I asked, oddly calm despite the pending waves and storm.
“Yes?”
“Then give me one of your knives and hold M--Doris,” I corrected myself.
Unsure of what I was doing, Lydia stared at me for several long seconds, but eventually gave in, handing me one of her stilettos and then drawing the other.
“Sorry . . . Doris,” Lydia said, putting her in a rear chokehold with her left arm and the pressing the blade in her right hand to Doris’s neck.
I took the sharp knife in my right hand and drew a long cut across my left palm. Then, using my right index finger, I walked among the Stonehenge-like slabs on the island, using my own blood to scrawl the same ancient summoning symbols I had used on planet Crissus to summon Y’ollgorath.
The same ritual where I had to sacrifice Randy.
We didn’t have long until the massive waves came down on us, so I had no time to perform the necessary checks of the symbols. I had to get it right the first time. When I was finished, I looked back at Lydia and Doris. My wife still held the frightened woman.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But this is for Evie.”
I stood in the center of the island, right beside the well, and held my left fist tight until my blood dripped onto the wet ground.
“I, Julian Jackson Blackwell, summon you, Y’ollgorath, Exalted One from the Eighth plane of the Never Realm. I offer you a soul. Come forth, denizen of the Never Realm, come forth and claim your prize.”
The glyphs, drawn in my blood, flared. Despite the wet stone and constant rain, the symbols burned brightly. Beneath my feet the ground began to glow. The fire zipped across the glyphs, intersecting in such a way to form a nine-pointed star. A gate between planes flickered into life.
I stepped away from the opening portal and took up a spot to Lydia’s left. Doris’s eyes were wide. Her breath came in gasps.
Y’ollgorath rose up from the portal. The fifteen-foot demon stretched his neck and extended his wings. He looked around at the storm and waves that were moments away from crashing down.
“This is getting to be a habit,” Y’olly said to me with a polite nod.
“Yeah, it kind of is.”
“Word is you’ve been causing all kinds of chaos.”
I nodded. “For my daughter, I’d tear the universe a new asshole.”
Y’olly smiled, showing off a mouth of needle-like teeth. “I bet you would.”
“We’re close, Y’olly,” I said. “We’ve hit a snag. We’re stranded here and I need another lift back home.”
Y’ollgorath crossed his arms. “I already bent the rules for you once.”
Doris looked over at me, but I could not look at her. I dare not.
“I told you last time,” the demon said, “you’d need to offer me something of great value. A real sacrifice.�
�
“I know,” I whispered.
“And are you prepared to make that sacrifice?” Y’olly asked.
“I am.”
“Then do it. Make your sacrifice.”
I regarded the knife for a second. Such a simple object. Funny, how only a few inches of metal can rob a person of her life. Her hopes and dreams. Her laughter and love. The total sum of her life's experience suddenly gone with but a few inches of sharpened metal. It seemed . . . unfair.
But that was life. It never pretended to be fair.
“For Evie,” I whispered.
And that was when I stabbed Lydia in the back.
Chapter Thirty-Five and a Half
Where I Teach You Two New Words
Heh heh, you should see your faces.
Oh, don’t look at me like that. How many times have I had to tell you people that I am a villain? What . . . because I was on a quest to get my child back, you think I was noble? A hero? I’m not, and I never will be. I barely tolerate being a protagonist.
The best part is, I knew this was coming and you didn’t. Don’t act like you did.
Go back to Chapter 34 and you’ll notice a tonal shift. It was right when I began talking about the pain Lydia had to be feeling inside, and then I talked about my own. She held my hand and blah blah blah we’re stronger together blah blah blah.
This whole adventure I’ve been doing my normal Shadow Master thing, and in only two chapters, I made you feel sad.
Gods above and below, you people are so easy to manipulate.
You see, what I just did with this half-chapter is called bathos. Or in generic terms, when the dramatic setting or mood is undercut by the trivial or comedic. Show the audience a really dramatic, heart-wrenching scene, then have a joke immediately following.
Some literary critics hate bathos. They think it’s a cheap ploy of weak writers. You know, like every Marvel movie that makes a butt-ton of money. I’m sure they’re crying themselves to bed every night on billions of dollars while thinking about what “literary scholars and critics” tell their thirteen cats (or vampire message boards) what they think of bathos.
But back to this story. Here’s a simple fact: You cannot replace a child. No matter how many Hollywood celebrities treat them as such, children are not pets. You can’t lose one, then run down to the store and get a replacement one to fill the void.
But you can get another spouse. Maybe even a better one!
Okay, back to the zany antics of the Shadow Master and the fallout of premeditated uxoricide.
Psst . . . uxoricide is the killing of your wife. See, these books aren’t just fun; they’re informative!
Chapter Thirty-Six
Where I Say Goodbye to the One I Love, Try To Save Face, and Have a Drink
Lydia dropped the knife she had been holding. Doris used the moment to slip away. She quickly grabbed the knife in both hands and held it outstretched, switching between me and Y’olly.
“S-stay back!”
I snapped my fingers and my power flooded back into the frightened woman. Doris was once again replaced my Myst.
“Get over here and help me,” I commanded as I gently laid Lydia down on the ground.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just be here with her,” I said, rubbing Lydia’s wet hair away from her face.
Myst cautiously approached. “I-I thought you were going to sacrifice me.”
“He couldn’t,” Y’olly said.
Myst looked up at the big demon. “Why?”
Y’olly smiled. “Because, it’s like I told him back on that planet. He had to sacrifice something, or someone, he truly loved.”
Myst then looked back at both Lydia and me and nodded. She got the message: I liked her. I loved Lydia. Kneeling beside us, she too placed a hand on Lydia’s head.
“I am sorry,” I said to Lydia.
“I-I know,” she coughed. “I w-would h-have done the s-same t-thing.”
“I know,” I smiled.
“H-ha,” Lydia lightly laughed. “J-just s-so you know, I h-had the s-same idea.”
I wiped at my eye and nose. “That’s why I stood to your left.”
“S-smart,” she said and closed her eyes. “S-save E-evie, Jackson. S-save our d-daughter.”
“I will,” I promised.
“I love you,” she said.
“And I love you.”
“A-and, y-you were the best sex I ever had,” she said.
“Thank you,” I smiled.
“I-I was t-talking to M-myst.”
“I know, it’s who I am . . . wait, what?”
“And you were mine,” Myst said, kissing her fingertips and placing them on Lydia’s lips.
“L-looks like I got the last word S-shadow M-master,” Lydia said in ragged breaths. “I-I win . . .”
Despite the coming waves, I held my wife’s body for a few moments, saying nothing. Partly out of respect. Partly because I was stunned that even in death, she beat me.
Damn it.
“It’s time, Jackson,” Y’olly said. “I have her soul. The body is just a body now.”
“You do right by her,” I told the demon. It was clear that I wasn’t asking.
“Not only out of respect for you, but also because of that killer last line, she will be one of the few souls to never know torment in the Never Realm.”
“I . . . let her win?”
“Keep telling yourself that, boss,” Myst said as she stood and wiped at her own eyes. “She’s been beating you from the moment you met.”
“Yeah, she has,” I said.
I followed Y’olly through the portal in the Never Realm, leaving Horreich, and the body of my wife, Lydia Barrowbride, Master Rogue of Caledon, behind. Once we were safely through the portal, I looked back one last time to say goodbye. The ocean waves crashed down with thunderous power, swallowing Erinerung, the Island of Memory.
Myst stepped up to me and put her arms around me in a hug.
“I’m sorry, Jackson.”
“Thank you,” I said, hugging her back. My body shuddered against the crippling loss of my wife. I allowed myself a few additional seconds of humanity before I used a bit of my godly essence to bottle up my feelings and push them back down—giving fuel, no doubt, to that ulcer or aneurysm which would one day kill me.
One last time I let myself think of her and her . . . peculiar sense of humor. “It was funny, what she said. But I was at least in the top five, right?”
“For me or for her?” Myst said, letting go of the hug.
“Either?”
Myst turned away. “So, this is the Never Realm then?” she asked, dodging the question.
Ouch. Right in my fragile male ego.
********
“So, the ship just disappeared?” Y’olly asked.
“Yes,” I said, sipping at the Khoom my infernal host had provided.
“And you still had time on The One’s blessing?”
I pulled out the watch, checked it, then held it up for Y’olly to see. “While not much longer, I still have time.”
“Then I don’t understand,” the demon said, rubbing at his chin.
“Nor I,” I said from the overstuffed recliner in Y’olly’s private study while the demon leaned against his office desk. Considering the size disparity between myself and his massive frame, I must have looked adorable in the giant chair. Like a little kid talking to grown-ups. “It was there one minute and then poof, gone.”
“And this came after you learned that Evie had been taken to Caledon?”
“Yes,” Myst said, sipping at her own drink in the chair next to mine. From the way her hand held steady, I assumed she would be more uncomfortable being in what was her mind Hell. To her, this must be what all the nuns in parochial school had warned her about.
“You’re taking this place well,” I noted.
“Surprisingly, yes,” Myst nodded. “It’s a lot to take in. Especially considering . . . what we’ve lo
st.”
I nodded and I didn’t press harder. While . . . Lydia, damn it, and I were often guests here for various mixers and parties, I typically left my minions at home.
“Can we—can we see her?” I asked.
Y’olly shook his head. “Sorry, hoss. New souls take a while to . . . acclimatize to the new surroundings. But when this is all done, I think we can arrange visitations.”
“Thank you,” I nodded. “I know she now belongs to you. But just . . . do right by her.”
“I will,” Y’olly said. “But back to your issue.”
“Right. Well, it’s like we said. After we learned where she went, then Dmitrius said that ‘they’ also knew where she was. And that’s when the ship left. So, it’s off to Caledon for us. I know the Never Realm touches all planes of reality at once. I thank you again for your hospitality, but we have to go and save Evie.”
There was a knock at Y’olly’s door. At his command, a younger demon assistant came in, handed him a folder, then quickly departed. The big demon opened the folder and scanned the contents.
“I think there’s a problem.”
“What?”
“These reports that came in. Caledon has . . . fallen.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “How could it fall?”
“The universe itself was thrown into a wild state of entropy,” Y’olly said as he continued to skim the document. “Apparently certain events forced the gods to create a cataclysm, basically rebooting the universe. Valliar and Khasil are gone.”
“What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“Missing,” Y’olly said, flipping through the pages. “Together they enacted an ancient rite, and in essence exiled themselves from their own dimension, giving way to a bunch of new gods. The whole thing is really unsatisfying to would-be readers.”
“But what about Evie?!” I yelled. I tried to hop to my feet, but the damned giant office chair made the dramatic effect impossible. At best, I was a well-dressed kid getting off a big piece of furniture.
“There’s nothing in the report. Only that extra-dimensional forces invaded Caledon and that the cataclysm wiped out everything. As far as that universe is concerned, Caledon is back in the dark ages.”
