The Hall of Doors

by Phillip Locey

  Be’naj’s wings twitched. “How do you know how it works? I’ve received these visions most of my life and still can’t explain it.”

  Saffron placed a hand softly on Be’naj’s shoulder. “I don’t think we’re going to decipher the mysteries of the cosmos anytime soon. Why don’t the two of you trance now while we wait, and I’ll keep watch for Palomar’s return. I have a feeling it could be a while.”

  Thaelios followed her gaze across the training field to where a retinue of Aasimar practiced aerial maneuvers. He had no doubts that the moment they were in meditation, Saffron would be wandering off to investigate. Calculating they’d be safe enough regardless, he gave in and slipped into alternate consciousness. When Saffron roused him, Palomar had returned.

  “Khanarme was sympathetic to our plight but understandably demanded guidance from Hiruth Jeshu, May His Light Shine Forever, before organizing a raid into enemy territory. I apologize for failing to anticipate your weariness; I have already forgotten so much since returning to Mount Celestia from my time with mortals. We shall find you proper shelter and comfort in the Ulimar village.”

  “Will I be able to speak with Rhazine?” Saffron asked. “I’d like to make plans for her should we fail to return.”

  “Of course, but do not fear. As Hiruth Jeshu said, May His Light Shine Forever, He can send you back to Elisahd whenever you wish.”

  Back in the village, Rhazine embraced Saffron as soon as the door to her host’s abode opened, though Thaelios calculated it less than a day since they’d parted. The two Begnari women went back inside, chatting vibrantly as Dyphina and Be’naj followed in their wake.

  Palomar seemed to be carrying on a telepathic conversation with the Ulimar who lived there as they stood near the entryway. Thaelios breathed deeply, deciding to stay outside and enjoy the natural splendor of Mount Celestia’s bottommost layer. It wasn’t Ifelian, of course, but he couldn’t count on any such scenery where they were headed, and the old-growth trees just beyond the settlement looked spectacular.

  He wandered toward them, making sure to bring some rations and the book taken from Trigilas’s quarters so he could study. He would have plenty of time to indulge while the humans slept. At the edge of where civilization touched the wilderness, Thaelios found an enormous tree unlike any he’d ever seen. Its trunk was broad, ribbed, and folded so that it resembled the throne of a giant. Its long limbs extended from both sides and were weighed down by heavy green leaves that bowed them toward the ground.

  Similar specimens led back into a thicker forest, but they were widely spaced given the girth of their foliage. Thaelios gently rubbed the bark and found it smooth. The limbs twitched slightly at his touch, and he had a sensation that the tree was somehow aware of his presence. Such an odd feeling. Checking to make sure he was alone, Thaelios sat upon the low curve of the trunk and nestled back against its flatter rise. The nearest limbs bent ever so slightly toward him, but once he was satisfied that no harm was meant, he cracked open Trigilas’s book and started to read.

  The breadth of magical knowledge demonstrated by the Father of Spells within this single tome was staggering – doubly so, knowing everything else Trigilas had accomplished. One of Cauzel’s first lessons to his new apprentices had been about the necessity of finding a specialty. It was nearly impossible, he’d said, to become adept within all areas of magic. There was simply too much to learn and too much variance in the structure of the schools. Building upon learned concepts, once you’d mastered them, was the most efficient way to expand proficiency.

  Thaelios closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. What was his calling? What kind of magic was he best at? Early on, he’d found illusions useful and they came easily enough to him. Apparently, Cauzel had a talent for them as well, given how he’d fooled everyone into believing he was human. But was Thaelios going to create a legacy through trickery? It seemed unlikely.

  He thought about the trapped devil, M’thenzor, and how Trigilas had obviously used the knowledge of supernatural beings to his advantage. Thaelios was never going to banish Avatars from Elisahd, but summoning could be an accelerated path to power … also dangerous, he admitted. He’d now seen firsthand the impressive nature of the Outer Planes and those who lived there.

  Something brushed against Thaelios’s face and he opened his eyes to find the limbs of the tree curling in upon him, almost in an embrace. He reached out and stroked a broad, green leaf. Doing so created a tingling sound similar to a wind-chime, and Thaelios felt a soothing peace fall upon him. A sudden urge to reenter his trance and meditate would not be denied, even though he’d wanted to make some progress on Gradations of Immortality. The book could wait, Thaelios decided. The humans would have to sleep longer, anyway, and he’d certainly have plenty of time to read before Palomar received any news.

  “There you are,” Palomar projected as he pulled back the curtain of green-leafed branches that had cocooned around Thaelios. “I see you’ve discovered the comforts of the cradling ilyho.”

  Thaelios realized that the tree he sat upon had curled in to the extent that he was almost entirely hidden from view. “How long was I trancing? It appears my lucidity was compromised.”

  “I cannot answer truthfully, for I know not when you began. Marshall Khanarme has returned, and the others are rested and preparing for the mission ahead.”

  “Your friend got permission from Hiruth Jeshu to enter the Abyss?” Thaelios felt a twinge of disappointment.

  “May His light shine forever – yes.” Palomar’s pearlescent face was painted with a look of satisfaction. “My just Lord seems keen to protect our mortal friends. If I was to guess, I’d venture He’s been impressed by the ingenuity and courage your troop has shown. It is rare for those native to the Primes to ever find their way here, after all.”

  Thaelios stood, causing the tree’s limbs to recede to their initial position. “So he didn’t think our venturing to the Nether Realms was foolhardy?”

  “Quite the contrary. He has decreed a full company of Celestial soldiers should guard the four of you.”

  Perhaps this could be done, Thaelios thought. He already held enough trust in Palomar to pity any enemy unfortunate enough to face a collection of determined Aasimar.

  “Come.” Palomar waved as he turned back toward the village. “We should join the others.”

  Thaelios wasn’t sure how large a company of Aasimar was, but a dozen armed Celestials waited at the cave leading into the base of the Mountain, Arinome among them. The enormous Seraph stood with arms folded across his armored chest, his four wings intermittently shifting in hypnotic synchronicity. The Aasimar wore shining silver mail, their uniform perfection made distinct only by the varying colors of their hair and the feathered tips of their wings. Saffron, Be’naj, and Dyphina huddled closely and looked out of place, dwarfed by the surrounding Celestials.

  Be’naj looked more calm and resolute than he remembered, and had acquired a polished shield that glistened in the slanting rays of Mount Celestia’s sun. Dyphina, in contrast, appeared anxious. She chewed on a handful of what looked like dried fruit, reminding Thaelios how famished he was. He approached to see if she’d be willing to share.

  “We haven’t been into the Doomwait in some time,” a crimson-haired Aasimar projected as he stepped forward and clasped Palomar’s wrist. Thaelios guessed it must be the Marshall. “The biggest threat from the Tanar-ri is their numbers, so stay in formation and obey my orders,” he continued as he looked over the company. Khanarme locked his gaze momentarily back on Palomar. “Don’t expect them to fight fair.”

  Palomar nodded. “After we push our way through the Abyssal Stair, we can expect the real resistance to begin. I will guide the mortals to the Runestone repository to search its archives for our Destination Stone. Hold the demons back as long as you can, but you should retreat once we’re safely on our way.”

  Arinome’s deep voice resonated in Thaelios’s mind, “We can only expect plans to hold together for so fa
r … we’re entering the realm of Chaos, after all.” Many of the Aasimar nodded at his statement.

  “The Light of Hiruth Jeshu will see us through,” Khanarme said and set a pace into the cavern beneath the Mountain. “Use your songs and trust your brethren.”

  The Celestial company filed after their Marshall, with Palomar taking the rear. The mortals followed, and Thaelios had to hustle to keep up with the Aasimar’s naturally long strides. Dyphina took his book and placed it in her backpack with Cauzel’s spellbook as they walked.

  “I hate to put a damper on things,” Thaelios mentioned between breaths, “but how are we supposed to find the archives?”

  “The Abyss is a dark place, Thaelios, for demons do not require light to see.” Palomar looked back briefly to acknowledge the question. “Rune Magic requires forging, however. The light of the fires should serve as a beacon.”

  “We’re going to stick out like bats in a bird’s nest, aren’t we?” Dyphina asked.

  Palomar turned his head again and smiled. “We will not escape attention, for certain. You should not be surprised if word of our coming reaches the Tanar-ri even before our arrival. Also, Saffron, your fire magic will likely be ineffective, as most demons are immune to the element. Concentrate on your martial training.”

  Saffron nodded. “What else should we know about them? What should we prepare for?”

  “Tanar-ri are devious and cruel. They enjoy inflicting pain and will sometimes avoid slaying an enemy outright if they think they can safely incapacitate them. To this end, many employ venom or carry disease, so even the smallest wounds should not be neglected.”

  “They sound as horrible as they look,” Be’naj reflected.

  “You must do whatever you can not to perish on their plane, even if that means fleeing,” Palomar continued. “For if a mortal dies within the Abyss, their essence will be trapped. They will be reborn as the lowest form of demonic spawn and tortured for eons.”

  Thaelios’s feet ceased propelling him forward. “This is more than I signed up for.”

  “Have faith, my kin,” Be’naj encouraged. “We have a dozen Celestials to keep us safe.”

  “I’m not sure an army would make me feel secure, given the stakes.” The shadow of the Mountain already lay over them, and Thaelios stared at the dark triangle that formed the mouth of the tunnel beneath. The Aasimar marched on, though his fellow apprentices and Be’naj held back with him.

  How is it that they were all so ready to risk their eternal souls while he hesitated? Was it a lack of courage on his part or merely an abundance of reason? Were they aware of what was on the line and still deemed their mission worthy?

  Saffron looked at him with soft eyes and lay a hand upon his shoulder. “I understand your fear – it’s completely natural. Only a year ago, I too would have questioned our sanity. But I learned from the Order of the Rising Moon, as much as I’m loath to admit it, what it is to struggle on behalf of something greater than the self.” Her eyes stayed on his, unfaltering. “I saw men giving their lives because they believed in providing security for others. And though they paid the ultimate cost, their sacrifice succeeded in creating the world of their vision.”

  Was it that simple? After what they’d seen in the Doomwait, Thaelios wouldn’t deny that sinister forces were seeking to harm his people. Eladrin history was already marred by so much hardship, they didn’t deserve whatever might be coming. He thought of Zygrim, the man he’d barely known, yet who knew him better than any other, and how the gladiator had risked his life to spare Thaelios’s, almost as if it was instinct.

  “I see what you mean,” he replied to Saffron, not because he was certain he did, but because of the sudden sense of loss that clutched at the organs in his chest. He wanted to disappear, though would settle for the group returning to their march.

  Thaelios started moving again and the others mimicked. The progression of Aasimar had never ceased, and the mortals had to hustle to catch up. One of Celestials hummed a tune that produced a halo of light around the company. It swelled and receded with the amplitude of the song, keeping the crushing darkness of the overhead mountain at bay.

  When the company reached the Abyssal Rift, Khanarme turned to address his followers, his crimson hair streaked with intermittent flashes of electric blue. “When we enter the Doomwait, we’ll be flying swiftly for the Abyssal Stair.” His telepathy temporarily blocked out the incessant droning of the Rift. “Aasimar will carry the mortals, with Arinome leading the way to discourage confrontation. Once we enter the Abyss, we can expect the battle to come to us. Palomar will take charge of our guests while we occupy any Tanar-ri.”

  “It’s been eons since I’ve smote demon scum!” Arinome’s deep voice resonated.

  Khanarme flashed him a piercing look but didn’t address the comment. “You are each responsible for the Aasimar beside you. Defend first – we’re here to assist the mortals in their mission, not start the next Blood War.”

  The heads of most of the Aasimar nodded in agreement.

  “Those not carrying mortals … weapons out!”

  All but four of the Celestials drew blades that shone with holy, golden light, Khanarme included. One of the remainder stepped behind Thaelios and placed a pearlescent hand on his shoulder. Others did the same to his friends.

  One-by-one, they all stepped into the Rift, vanishing in a series of flashes and crackling. When it was Thaelios’s turn, the sensations of crossing to another world were no less jarring for having previously experienced them. The gloom of the Doomwait once again numbed his spirits, as if an ancient sadness weighed upon him. A moment later, he was lifted into the air, supported by strong arms wrapping around his shoulders from underneath. The flapping of feathery wings and the euphoric sense of weightlessness distracted him from the cloying miasma.

  Even with his keen sight, Thaelios could see nothing beyond the backs of the few Aasimar directly in front of him. The perpetual haze muted everything else, even the ground, so he had no idea of their altitude. The Aasimar must have had a better sense of direction than he, for the halos of distant torches soon heralded their approach to Anarchiapolis. Thaelios found relief that no attacks came while he dangled from such a height.

  The sudden descent of white wings in front of him briefly preceded his own, and the accompanying rush of air felt refreshing in the stagnant atmosphere. Denizens of the Doomwait scurried to make room for the Aasimar arrival, and even before Thaelios stood firmly on his own feet, he registered a barrage of telepathic curses heaped in their direction. Despite the crudeness of thought, the accompanying aggression failed to manifest physically. Thaelios didn’t know how to differentiate an actual Tanar-ri from the other abominations stalking this Plane, but the glow of Celestial blades seemed enough deterrent for the moment.

  The Aasimar shifted into an outward-facing circle with the mortals at its center, cutting off much of Thaelios’s view. Arinome continuing hovering above them, his powerful quartet of wings beating as quickly as Thaelios’s pulse.

  A piercing, physical roar split the air, and Thaelios instinctively ducked in response. He couldn’t see the originator, but it sounding like something big. The circle shuffled in a uniform direction, causing those within to move along the same path.

  “We claim the right to justice!” Khanarme shouted.

  “Who-ah,” the Aasimar answered, raising their shields and shifting their feet into a protective stance.

  Thaelios stretched onto the tips of his toes to try and see what was happening beyond his living enclosure. Two more roars, from opposite sides of the circle, exploded close enough that he had to cover his ears to mitigate their shock. Thuds and the whoosh of swinging weapons followed, the perimeter swaying as several Celestials responded with swift violence.

  Wails of pain followed, answered immediately by song, and then the circle began moving again. Thaelios stumbled as they started down a series of wide, stone steps, each nearly as broad as he was tall. The hum of the Aasimar�
�s weapons strengthened in response to the singing, and Arinome flew further down the steps, beyond sight.

  “Prepare for the Abyss.”

  Thaelios thought the voice was Palomar’s, though he couldn’t be sure. He searched for Saffron’s face, but an unnatural darkness suddenly cast everything in deep shadow. Continuing down the stair, he became enveloped in a cascading fall of grey mist, like passing through a thundercloud.

  The ground leveled off after, and the Aasimar stopped moving. All was pitch black, save the Celestial weapons and armor, whose glow reflected off their owner’s pale skins. The air was difficult to breath and stunk of unsavory fumes.

  “One got away,” Arinome shared as the Aasimar spread into a line. “It no doubt Gated to raise the alarm. Expect company.”

  With the circle broken, Thaelios could at least see back in the direction they’d come, though the shining metal could only illuminated so much. Movement gave some shape in his mind to the dark curtain they’d passed through, a semi-solid downward flow of void.

  “Which way do we go?” asked Saffron, the first mortal to overcome the stagnation of their transition. She held the glowing tip of her spear aloft, trying to use its radiance to track something out of the oppressive blackness.

  “There!” Palomar finally said, pointing.

  “I don’t see anything,” Dyphina said.

  “I see it!” Be’naj’s voice sounded hopeful. “The faintest red glow.”

  A sudden rumbling like distant, sustained thunder dimmed the momentary satisfaction. The Aasimar spread a body’s length apart from one another.

  “Inrohim, Leator, watch the portal,” Khanarme ordered. “We don’t want to be caught from behind.”

  Two Aasimar spun to face the curtain of void, but Thaelios’s eyes were trained on the emptiness of the Abyss beyond the line of Celestials, straining to put an image to the rising noise he could already hear. What sounded like many running feet was joined by a series of snapping pops, similar to rapid rain on metal. Concurrent with the cacophony came flashes of rectangular mist, dull grey but infinitely brighter than the surrounding darkness. These flashes were instantaneous but provided glimpses of huge shapes striding through them, as well as numerous smaller forms swelling around them at speed.