by Aaron Bunce
How much longer until that happened to him? The thought sent a pang of terror straight through him. Would it happen to him? And if so, what lay in store for him? Had he missed his chance to pass on?
Eisa sauntered into the chamber a short while later, the lopsided, curling smile so out of place on his daughter’s face. A large beast tromped in behind her, and another behind that one, dragging wooden crates across the smooth floor. The beasts dropped their burdens and turned to leave.
“Who are you, and why are you keeping me here?” he asked, turning to pace back in the other direction.
“They call me Nephera. I had another name once, when I was like you…before I fell to the blight so many ages ago,” she said.
“The blight?”
“A sickness. My people lived here long before your earliest ancestors were given the spark of life, before the gods made their flight to the celestial heavens. We cultivated knowledge, learned to bind the magical energies connecting this realm and the spirit worlds, and lived in peace and harmony. But then the blight came, and despite all of our knowledge and skill, we were powerless to stop it. Our people faded and died. In our desperation to defeat the blight and survive we turned our gaze beyond death, to the world beyond worlds, a realm we call the shadow void. There we found our salvation,” Nephera said.
Henri silently picked through her story, and couldn’t help but wonder how many realms there were. She did say “spirit worlds” after all. Were there phantom roads between all of them?
“But why take my daughter? Why Eisa?” he asked, desperate for some reason to his pain, something profound that could perhaps give it all meaning.
“I like you, Henri. It is your spirit. It is a valuable commodity not found amongst the weak. Eisa has the same spirit, that strength that goes far beyond beauty, strength of mind, or physical might,” she offered.
Henri slumped towards the ground, the weight of his body becoming a painful and almost insurmountable weight.
“Please, just let me go. The…effort is too much…too painful. I cannot last much longer,” he pleaded.
“The dead never do,” she whispered, chuckling quietly.
A group of people entered next, their eyes glowing like radiant emeralds, just like Eisa’s. They worked together, pulling rocks out of the boxes and laying them on the ground. Henri watched the strange beings work. They alternated between arranging the stones, and chanting over them, scratching symbols and glyphs into their surfaces with oddly shaped black knives.
Henri watched them work for a long while, the burden eventually driving him to his knees, and then to sit on the ground. One of the deliriums slapped a fleshy palm against the stone not far away, the creature trying to pull its body towards him. He met its gaze, and couldn’t help but feel that there was a person trapped somewhere behind the dull, black eyes, fighting to break out.
A foot scuffed the ground behind him, and he turned to find Eisa standing before him. No, he told himself. She wasn’t his daughter any longer. Nephera watched him quietly, the others filing around her and forming a circle.
“What are you going to do with me? What is going to happen to my daughter?” he asked, struggling to push off the ground. Whatever happened, he would meet it on his feet. Like a man.
“We are going to help you, Henri,” she said after a lengthy pause. “You defied death and returned to your daughter’s side, braving dark and unknown paths. That is no small feat…one we feel should be rewarded.”
“Rewarded? What are you talking about? I died. There is no gift you could possibly give me–”
Nephera interrupted him, her voice just a whisper, and yet it filled the space like a chorus of hundreds.
“We gift you a new life…a new purpose. One that will allow you to stay at your daughter’s side from now until the foundations of the heavens come crashing down and all becomes one light,” she said, holding her hands out and palms up.
“One light?” Henri muttered in confusion. Then her words struck him. “I can see Eisa again? I can see my daughter?” he asked, desperately.
Nephera nodded, the others raising their hands.
A stab of excitement flooded into him. Could she really help him? Could he and Eisa be together once again, as a family? Would Hunter be there, too? The prospect propelled him from the ground, his hands reaching out to the strange and dark mirror image of his daughter.
The Nym’s voices rose up around him, the melodic words flitting and flowing gracefully through the air. The glyphs on the floor dimmed and then disappeared, the light and color around him abruptly dying away as he was pulled back into the phantom road. A horrible sucking noise sounded behind him and he turned just as the delirium burst from their fleshy bodies, the ghastly, shadowy creatures returned to their previous form. Yet, they looked different now, as if even more of their former humanity had been stripped away, leaving their shape less defined, and movements more erratic. The delirium bounded off into the darkness without a sound.
Henri pushed off the ground, the excruciating burden now lifted. He spotted the radiant dagger lying on the ground just beyond the circle of Nym. He took a single step towards it, his body lithe and weightless again, but froze.
“Father!” Eisa cried out. And it was his daughter, not the husky, surreal voice of the creature stealing her body. “Father! I’m here. Help me!”
Henri turned, the air around Nephera rippling with light. She held her arms out before her, her voice still bending and changing everything around him, but something else moved within her. Could it be?
He moved closer a step, and then another. Yes. Somewhere inside Eisa’s body he could see a dark, wretched shape, coiling and expanding. A bright form appeared a moment later, breaking free from the dark shape’s hold.
“Eisa!” he screamed. A vaporous hand extended out of the body, his daughter’s face appearing for just a moment, before the dark form coiled around her again and she disappeared.
“Help me!” she screamed.
Henri ran straight at her, only faintly aware of a short figure huddling over the collection of rocks. They lifted a hammer above their head and brought it down against a chisel, the ring of metal on stone hollow and distant.
Henri collided with Nephera, her body as solid and unmoving as stone. He screamed Eisa’s name and channeled his emotions forward, clawing and ripping at her clothes and skin, trying to free his daughter trapped inside.
The hammer struck metal again, a violent tug pulling him back. He turned. The stooped figure drove the hammer and chisel into stone again and again, working carefully to extricate a diamond-shaped sliver from the center of the largest rock. Another smack of the hammer and a haunting green glow burst out from around the chiseled shape. The light flooded out and over the other rocks, the strange etchings catching the light and pulsing brightly in the otherwise colorless phantom road. Then Henri saw it. The rocks had been laid out roughly in the shape of an enormous person.
A voice rang out distantly in the phantom road, Henri swiveling to track it. Nothing else moved in the darkness. He heard it again, but couldn’t tell where it came from. Was it Eisa?
The hammer rang out, the pull tugging on him again, this time much stronger. What was happening? He looked back to Nephera, just as the chisel cracked, the delicate shard of stone breaking free in the short figure’s hand.
Brilliant light spilled from the hole in the stone, the gentle pull now a violent and undeniable force wrenching him back. Henri clawed at the air, fighting with all of his might, but it was too strong. He slipped backwards and turned, the force lifting him away from the ground.
Herja appeared a stone’s throw away, the murky phantom road opening up like a gleaming door. Her armor shone in the green light as she turned, and leapt bird-like towards him. Henri held out his hand to her, but she was too far away.
The phantom road spun above him, and then he tumbled headfirst into the light. Darkness flooded over Henri, his body pulling apart. Pain and confusion overwhe
lmed him and for a time he lost track of all else. Then, slowly, it lifted.
Memories blossomed and his mind pulled back together. Sensations filtered in and he became aware that he had form. He tried to open his eyes, but darkness prevailed. He tried to speak, but couldn’t seem to find the air to make noise. Henri contemplated this for a while, his mind clarifying.
He tried to open his eyes once again, focusing with all of his willpower. The darkness abruptly split apart, a mural of painted stone slowly coming into focus. Was it the ceiling of the chamber? Was Eisa still near? The idea of his daughter drove him to move, so he tried to sit up.
His body moved, pulling itself together, and with an immense effort, his head lifted off the ground. Stone ground against stone as he fell back to the ground with a crash.
Try again! He focused and tried to move his arms. Henri watched in amazement as the stones pressed together. His bulk shifted forward, stone taking shape as his will defined form. Legs pulled together, and after a moment, Henri pushed off to stand, rocks continuing to shift and fit themselves together.
He was alive, somehow, inside the stone. Or, was he the stone? How was it possible?
“Your will is strong, indeed!” Nephera cooed, stepping out from behind a column.
Henri tried to speak, to demand that she tell him what she’d done, but he couldn’t seem to form words. It was odd. He couldn’t even feel the air or draw breath. He managed to take a lumbering step towards Nephera, the ground quaking beneath him. The horrible, six-legged white beast appeared from the shadows, dropping defensively before her, its jaws parting in a threatening hiss.
“Easy, Dombrangr, Henri simply needs time to master his new form and learn his new place in this world. To become a stone Gollum is a tremendous feat!”
The white creature glared at him, its horrible, opaque eyes glowing tauntingly in the underground chamber’s uneven light. Anger flared inside Henri, his arms shifting above him, the stones coming together to create fists.
Nephera stepped between them, his fists freezing before they could smash the creature into the ground.
“Henri will learn to use his newfound might to serve as my steadfast and unbreakable protector…for as long as I live, his daughter endures. You, my sweet, may want to avoid him for the time being,” Nephera cooed.
Dombrangr hissed again, snapping his jaws at him, and then bounded silently off into the shadows. Henri turned, searching the space around him for an answer, any hint as to what he should do next, but the chamber’s silence conspired against him. The rocks shifted around him, his will gaining strength over the stone construct, the Gollum that was to be his prison.
“Serve me faithfully, Henri. Do as I wish and I may let Eisa loose to speak with you. Defy me, and I will doom her to an eternity of smothering, suffocating darkness, where her hope will be the only thing I allow to die. Now follow,” she said, flashing him a hollow smile before turning and sauntering towards the circular stair.
Henri turned, sadly, and followed.
They approached the wide, central chamber of the tower, the stair sweeping up seemingly disappearing into the heavens. A shadow dropped from above, appearing with almost no sound. An instinct flared inside Henri, and he lumbered in front of Eisa, his rocky fists taking shape. He lifted them above his head, and prepared to crush the threat.
“Take ease, Henri, another of my children returns to me.”
Her voice flushed the protective instinct away, once again leaving him cold and empty inside. He stepped aside, allowing the bizarre creature past. It looked roughly like a man, although stretched and bastardized, as if cut apart and reassembled differently. Large parts of its body were covered in sharp, ridged armor. Although some, he realized, had been torn away, marred flesh revealing obvious signs of a fight. Its body was pocked with a dozen cuts, its flesh burned black, and the stubby, broken shafts of arrows protruding from numerous wounds.
“Interesting,” Nephera cooed, inspecting the bizarre creature. She held out a hand. The strange beast approached, lowering itself until it slunk across the ground, and lifted its helmed head just beneath her outstretched hand. “So, there is strength amongst them after all. How things have changed since I last walked this land.”
Henri watched, bewilderment and alarm mixing in equal parts. How should he respond? Then the rocks shifted around him, his will continuing to gain strength over the Gollum.
“Come, Henri. It appears we have many preparations to oversee, and a war to wage,” she said, flashing him a taunting smile, and made her way up the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Fighting Back
Tusk circled the fire, growling his displeasure at being sent away, his brown, ruffled fur dissolving once again into the indistinct, black mist. Roman watched Folkvar, the boy’s expression evolving from shock, fear, and finally, absolute wonder as the spirit dog disappeared. Tadd watched from the corner, one eye half-closed, his face an unreadable mask.
“Do it again?” Folkvar burst forth suddenly, his hands waving through the air where Tusk had previously stood.
“I could, but if I keep him here too long, it saps my strength,” Roman laughed.
Tadd cleared his throat and shifted against the wall. He looked wary, and more so, weary.
“We figured ne’er to see you two, again,” Tadd said, his voice cutting through Folkvar’s glee and wonderment.
“We should have died a handful of times on our way back here, and that is not including what happened here in town, or at the Lord Constable’s mercy,” Dennah said, darkly, her slate-colored eyes searching the fire.
“And now you’ve been in town, and seen…” Tadd continued, his normally jovial demeanor gone.
Roman nodded, remembering the sight of the winter barn all too well. Hells, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“A monster rules over what remains of Bardstown. It told me there were more of its kind out there, and that no one is safe…anywhere,” Roman said, shivering. “It told me that it wants to help us defeat the rest of its kind.”
“Dark tales of wicked men and monsters may feel like stories, but they were spun for a reason, young ones. Long have monsters worn men’s skin, committing all manner of violence and evil. This land has basked in the light for thaws beyond count. I fear we are soon all to fall in shadow,” Tadd said. Roman nodded, and although Folkvar looked confused, he could tell that the old wagon driver understood
“What happened after we left?” Dennah asked.
Tadd took a deep breath, but with a look, he allowed Folkvar to speak instead.
“Things quieted for a time. We worked like mad men, fixing the wagons, clearing snow, and waiting for the weather to allow passage. Berg took charge after Frenin…” the young man said, pausing. “We…I didn’t think nothing of it at first, but we started seeing less and less folk outside their homes. It’s cold out, and with the snow, you know? We didn’t spare a second thought on it, me and Tadd. Then, when the snow finally cleared up, Tadd spots this horse off in the woods, wild-like. He fetches me, and we take off after it, thinking its own of our beasts, run off from the stable, but it ain’t.”
“General,” Roman guessed.
Folkvar nodded appreciatively, saying, “Yep. Frost kissed, scratched up, and jittery to boot, but we managed to wrangle him. On our way back, we heard a commotion, and find some of the townsfolk dragging all the caravan folk out of the White Crow. Tadd and I smelled something foul right away, so we stayed back and watched. They didn’t come back out of Frenin’s house. A time later, these two strange look fellars start leading the wagons out of town. We followed, hiding in the trees, and found ‘em after, burned in a clearing south of the river. We found our way here. Tadd stays inside, due to him getting so tired walking through the snow, but I go out to hide and watch. We hoped to see help arrive, but it ne’er came, only those two strange fellars traipsing back and forth from town, dumping dead folk in the winter barn. Eventually, Tadd was for leaving, so I snuck int
o town and stole more horses and some food. We were going to leave south, morrow, and head for the fort.”
“Didn’t they notice when the horses went missing? They would be so easy to track in the snow,” Dennah said.
“The boy’s crafty. He walked only in existing tracks, frayed the ropes, and rode the beasts out into the forest. He let them meander for a time, before looping round and back here. Anyone following those tracks would have given up before getting too far from town…t’would have thought the beasts broke loose and ran away,” Tadd rasped, toothlessly, ending in a cough.
Roman nodded appreciatively, watching the young man blush under the attention. But the group went silent for a time, a weighted question hanging over them, and no one eager to voice it.
“What do we do now?” Dennah asked, finally, turning first to Roman and then to Tadd.
Tadd seemed to wither under her gaze, the old man never looking frailer. Roman instantly wondered what other hardships the two had endured since escaping the town. He looked around, spotting several crusts of bread, but little else.
“There is only one thing left for us to do. We get as far from Bardstown as possible,” Roman offered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Folkvar leapt to his feet, and immediately started gathering items off the ground, but Tadd grasped him by the shirt and pulled him back down.
“I don’t think he means right this moment,” the old man said.
Roman’s mind worked through everything that had happened the last few days, a plan taking shape. He took a deep, steadying breath, and tried to put it in order out loud. “Dennah and I can’t go south. The southern reach pass to Nordson Bay, through the mountains, will be snowed in. So that leaves east and north. Bargeron is the closest option, but there are garrisons on both the Red Fish and the Queen’s Rise rivers, not to mention road patrols on every road between them. Ogre Springs is too far beyond that and it would take far too long to cover the distance. That leaves north,” he said, looking to Dennah. “I say we gather as many supplies as we can and make for Silma. My father always spoke kindly of Lord Thatcher. We beg an audience, and tell him what has happened here.” He wanted to add that the Crow told him to seek out another Nym, one named “Pera”, in the north. But Tadd looked skeptical enough, and he worried that the old man would reject his plan based off that news alone.
