All of the feathers whispered their magic in Annie’s ear, echoing secrets only known to mystical things. She held the feathers and swore that she could feel a heat emanate from every one of them. The woman held Nivalia’s feather before her, as she and Tomas flew upon Andor’s back, and silently called for Nivalia to bring them to her plateau. Andor banked slowly to the left and the clouds opened before them, obeying Annie’s request and revealing the snow-covered highland where she had first met Nivalia.
Andor landed gently among the inches of fluff, Tomas and Annie dismounted, and before they could begin to search, Nivalia was greeting them.
“You return to me surrounded by new faces, young woman, and a sadness in your heart. I felt my sister leave this world, I grieved her departure.”
“As did we, Nivalia,” replied Annie. “It is a terrible loss.”
“However, this is not why you have returned, is it? You have not come to console this snowy bird. Nor do you look for a shoulder to cry upon.”
“No,” answered Annie. “I come to you with an offer. As a sign of my deep respect for you, I wish to give to you a gift from the Skyfather. I wish to give to you the Eversense.”
Nivalia’s almond eyes narrowed and she stared at the group in silence.
“You do not mean to give this gift away in the name of charity. I assume there is something you wish for in return.”
“Merely, your help.” Annie moved closer to the spirit with her hands over her heart. “There is much you see, Great Nivalia. You are revered among your sisters for your intelligence, wisdom, and foresight. I wish to enhance that which is already great. I wish to give you the Eversense so that you might use it to tell us how to proceed in our quest.”
Nivalia began pacing as she continued to stare at Andor, Tomas and Annie. She seemed very suspicious of them, Annie thought. She hoped that it was just the way the woman was. Annie thought back to her last visit and remembered the woman attacking Evercloud’s knees. Annie took an instinctive step backward and Nivalia stopped her pacing.
“Your goal is to destroy this Tyrant, is it not?”
“Yes,” replied Annie. “He is the one who killed Iolana.”
“I know he is,” stated Nivalia bluntly.
“So you will help us?” interrupted Tomas.
Nivalia’s head snapped toward the interrupting man and Annie’s mind reverted back to knee pain.
“I will help you, yes. I will. You may give me the Eversense.”
There was silence and now Annie looked around at Tomas and Andor tentatively.
“Go ahead, Annie,” prompted Tomas. “Give it to her.”
“I–I don’t really know how,” stuttered Annie.
“What do you mean, you don’t know how?” shrugged Nivalia.
“Please don’t hit me in my knees,” bleated Annie.
“Why would I hit you in your knees?” Nivalia started shaking her head.
“Annie, what are you doing?” asked Tomas in bewilderment.
“Must I do everything myself?” muttered the spirit woman.
Nivalia stretched her short arms out to her sides and held them aloft. She then looked into the air and closed her eyes. Slowly, her small frame lifted from the ground, floating in the air. Then, the spirit’s body became translucent and Annie gave a small gasp. Tomas turned from the spectacle of Nivalia and saw that Annie was now levitating in the air as well.
As Tomas looked on in awe, Annie’s floating body rendered transparent just like Nivalia’s, and then a glowing orb of light grew larger and brighter within Annie’s frame. The white light glowed somewhere around Annie’s abdomen and then it slowly climbed higher through her body, eventually exiting her mouth. As the Eversense left the young woman’s possession, her body once again became opaque and she floated, ever so gently, back to the snow.
The Eversense continued to float toward the transparent figure of Nivalia and then entered her body through the mouth. Just as Annie’s had, the small woman’s body again became complete and she fell slowly to the plateau. The light of the Eversense vanishing; the transfer was complete.
Annie, Tomas and Andor remained silent and stared at Nivalia. The woman stood firmly, but her eyes remained closed. Then she leaned to one side, and stumbled. Tomas made to rush forward and help her, but Nivalia’s eyes shot wide and she motioned for him to come no closer.
“I can see…” she whispered, “everything.”
“What do you see, Great Spirit?” asked Andor the Eagle, breaking his silence.
Nivalia began to speak, but then paused awkwardly. A pained look crossed her face and she began to rub her forehead with one hand. She closed her eyes and then suddenly, her words came forth, rushing like a broken dam.
“I see a queen in the north with no crown. She sits in an empty castle, waiting, waiting, waiting. An owl perches on the parapet, scanning the storm below. Far, far, far to the east, in the lands forgotten, travel princes with no history. They search the wastelands for their only salvation, a treasure that does not exist. In the south, the sisters are building, building, building, building, building, building–”
“What’s happening to her?” cried Annie. “She won’t stop. We have to help her.”
Tomas looked at Annie with concern as Nivalia repeated her word, over and over. He lunged at Nivalia and grabbed the small woman around the shoulders, not knowing what else to do. As soon as he did, the spirit’s eyes opened and her words came to an end.
“A bridge.”
Nivalia plopped down, sat in the snow and exhaled with relief. Her breathing came heavily as if she had just exhausted herself, and the others continued to look at her with much trepidation.
“Are you all right?” asked Tomas.
“Yes,” mumbled the woman, looking up at the group. “Thank you. That was… unexpected.”
“What did you see?” asked Annie.
“Too much. I saw far too much. But I also saw enough. Please, young woman, you have the feathers. Place them around us in a large circle.”
Annie quickly obeyed the spirit, creating a circle with the feathers that was about twenty feet in diameter. Once she was finished, she returned to the center of the circle with Tomas, Andor and Nivalia and waited for another command. However, no other command would come. Nivalia walked to the edge of the circle and found the feather that belonged to her. She picked it out of the snow and sat down in its place with her legs crossed. The small woman raised her hands and as she did, light shot up from the location of each of the feathers. Andor, Annie and Tomas found themselves surrounded by many cylinders of light, rising upward from the feathers, and as they marveled at them, Nivalia began to speak again.
“Sisters, I ask for your help.”
Each light changed its color, and as it did, a reply came from the light. Two of the feathers emanated in green light and their reply was, “yes.” A dark-blue light replied yes as well, and then a light-blue light followed with the same reply. A yellow light glowed and agreed to help and then a warm, orange light did likewise. Finally, a silver light came forth and uttered, “no.”
“Thank you, sisters,” said Nivalia and just as fast as they had come, the lights disappeared, leaving the feathers behind.
“What was that?” asked Tomas.
“The sisters,” breathed Annie. “All of them.”
“You may gather your feathers,” Nivalia said to Annie. “We are ready to take action. I regret that Lithlillian would not help, but I am sure she has her reasons.”
“The no came from Lithlillian,” said Tomas with a sinking feeling in his gut. “That’s not surprising. We… well, Ben really… sort of upset her.”
“No time for that now,” chided Nivalia. “It’s time you be on your way.”
Annie was befuddled.
“On our way? Where? You said you would help us.”
“I have helped you,” argued Nivalia. “I will continue to help you. But we must be quick about things. Now, the sooner you be on your way, the soone
r my sisters and I can help you.”
“But where do we need to go?” asked Tomas.
“Did you miss that entire conversation between my sisters and I?”
Annie and Tomas looked at each other blankly and Andor laughed behind them.
“They only heard the question and the answers, Great Spirit. You forget they are human.”
Now Nivalia was laughing with Andor and Tomas muttered his disapproval to Annie.
“This is always happening to me. Ever since I met Evercloud. Bears and eagles and spirits are always laughing at me.”
“I don’t like it,” said Annie. “It’s very confusing.”
“Well, get used to it. They seem to get a great deal of enjoyment out of it.”
Nivalia and Andor finished laughing at Annie and Tomas, and the small woman wiped a tear from her eye.
“I forgot that you two are so limited,” Nivalia said and gave another chuckle. “Find your way across the Southern Sea to the land of Felaqua. Locate the Port of Sanctum. My sisters and I will give you our help once you arrive. Now, please, go before I die of laugher.”
Chapter 22: The Great Destroyer
Back down to the darkness. Am I to forever be a man cast in shadows?
Tears dripped slowly and silently from Callderwallder’s face as he stood before his forge. Down below the Royal Palace, in the depths that create their own inspirations of fear and temerity, he watched the fire of his forge crackle and grow as he stoked it with his bellows. It tore him apart to do what he was about to do. There was some question in his mind to whether it would even work.
The fire burned hot; hot enough to work with. Callderwallder turned around to gaze upon the three metal men who stood so silently. Each one of them was like an extension of himself. He looked at these creations as one might look at a leg or an arm. They were Callderwallder’s ability to interact with the world in the way that he had always dreamed of. They brought him something akin to respect and admiration; people feared him instead of pitying him.
The small, crippled man gave a sniffle, wiped a tear from his cheek, and let his mind enter one of the metal men. Its eyes glowed purple with energy. It raised its arms up and then lowered them again and turned to face its brothers. Then, Callderwallder began to use the metal man to tear apart its brothers. There was no resistance, no fight for survival. The obedience was total and complete. The metal man, at Callderwallder’s command, disassembled his brothers with a precision one would think impossible from such a thing, but it was Callderwallder’s sharp and pointed mind that wielded the tool. For though he lamented his task, the stunted man was well aware of the price he would pay if he were to fail. The black creatures that waited outside the walls of Nefas killed with certainty. If he were unable to complete his task in the time he had been given, his life would surely be forfeit. The madman on the other side of the wall said that the Holy was in control, but Callderwallder knew better. The Holy didn’t control what happened upon the battlefield, he had greater business to oversee. What happened on the battlefield was the work of man, and the day would be won or lost by his decisions.
The disassembly was almost complete. Callderwallder picked up a foot of metal and spun it in his hands. I will make this work, he thought. I will not fail.
Through the entire night, Callderwallder worked, his body wet with sweat. Hours passed and he felt himself near exhaustion. He could not stop though; stopping could mean the end of him. Besides, once he was finished with his project, if it worked, he wouldn’t need his weakened body any longer, only his mind. My mind is all I need, he told himself. My mind is invincible.
So the project continued, the forge crackled, the hammer fell over and over, and Callderwallder’s new suit was sewn from the veins of the earth. He was almost entombed in it, when he was finished molding, assembling, and fitting all the pieces he had made from the two metal men. He now looked at the third man, the last, and gave his final goodbye.
“You have served me well… No, better than well. You will be rewarded by becoming a part of me… forever. Your reward will be eternal service. Just like the reward I will receive from the Holy. We are lucky, we servants. We are lucky.”
Callderwallder closed his eyes and opened his mind to envelope the metal man, but this time was different. Callderwallder so often found that energy and used it away from himself, but now he found that energy and pulled it closer, as close as he could. Purple light began to glow in the eyes of the man of metal, but then slowly, it moved past the eyes and into the air, and like smoke on top of the water, it moved across the space between the metal man and where Callderwallder stood in his new suit. The purple light found the cripple and filled him like water. The power was unbelievable. Now Callderwallder reached out with his mind to the suit of metal he wore like armor, and without but a breath, it began to move.
One step forward with a thunderous boom upon the floor, a second step forward with a thunderous boom. The arms of the metal suit reached down and plucked the last metal man off of the ground and lifted him up above Callderwallder as he sat in the suit. The little man laughed at the power he wielded. It was now truly as if this were his own body. He looked up at the man he held above his head, and gripping it with his two massive metal hands, pulled it apart as if it were a doll made of straw.
“Ahahahaha,” the imp laughed. “I did it. I did it. Now to finish the job.” Callderwallder used the arms of the suit to completely disassemble the broken man and then set to designing the remainder of what would be his new skin. “They shall rue the day they marched to my kingdom. They shall rue the day they deigned to use the name of the Holy against me. I am the true servant, and I will destroy all those who are untrue. I am the weapon of the Holy. I am the great destroyer.”
• • •
King Bishop Craven sat upon his pale steed and stared at the gate to the Kingdom of Nefas. The sun was setting, and the time he had given Nefas to prepare their surrender was almost gone. It wouldn’t be long now, and he wondered whether they would keep their foolish pride, even in the face of insurmountable odds.
The men who had followed Craven from Chreos were gone, save his personal soldiers and General Zehnder. The men and boys who had not been killed by the Farsiders had run immediately. No amount of fear, honor, loyalty or anything else could have kept them on that field once the Farsider’s massacre had begun. The same was true for the soldiers of Nefas who had entered the battle that night. They were dead or escaped, there was no in between.
The small group of men upon their horses seemed paltry standing beneath the mighty wall of Nefas. Yet, no one on either side of the wall deemed Chreos less of a threat than the night prior. For it was the grotesque things that waited in the shadows that were the focus, nothing more and nothing less.
“It is almost time,” said Craven to himself as much as to anyone else. “They are fools. They have earned their fate.”
Then, the portcullis began to rise and the wooden doors opened wide. Craven squinted his eyes, trying to focus his vision just beyond the entrance to Nefas. It seemed as if a large pile of rocks had been laid at the entryway. The sun came from behind a cloud as it set for the horizon and then Craven realized it was not a pile of rocks at all. The sun reflected off of its surface in a way too unnatural for a pile of rocks. It seemed more now that it was a pile of armor, seven, maybe eight feet tall.
“This must be the sign of their surrender,” laughed Craven. “They are giving us their armor. Strange custom, really. Don’t you think, General Zehnder?”
Zehnder had not lost his animosity toward Craven, and the thought of serving the man made the bile rise in his throat, but he could not get past the Farsiders. They were not of this world; they had to be the work of the Holy. Whether he agreed with it or not, he found it hard to walk away from the commands of the Holy. Zehnder looked at the pile of armor and could not shake the feeling of sickness within him. He turned to answer Craven, but something caught his attention from the corner of his eye as he
turned.
“I do not think that is merely a pile of armor, my King.”
Craven squinted his eyes and, sure enough, the large pile of armor began to move. It walked smoothly toward the men, past the entryway to Nefas, and as it exited, a voice rang out.
“Close the gate!”
“Is that a soldier?” asked one of the men seated next to Craven.
Soldier? wondered Craven. That man must be a giant.
As the large, armored man moved closer, the men from Chreos could see that the soldier carried no sword, no shield and seemingly no weapon at all. However, it did seem as if his gauntlets and the vambraces were much thicker than they needed to be.
“This must be their surrender,” announced a bored King Bishop. “The man carries no weapon. He must be armor-clad for fear alone. You see, he stops his progress. He must wish to be met as to negotiate terms of surrender.”
The giant, armored man had stopped his progress roughly one hundred yards from the mounted men. But suddenly, purple light began to glow from one of the giant’s gauntlets. He raised his glowing arm, and it made a low, humming sound, and then, as quick as a flash, a bolt of energy came careening forward and struck the man next to Craven, flinging him off of his horse. Craven looked to the ground where the man had fallen, only to see his charred corpse lying motionless.
“Attack!!” yelled the King Bishop, not knowing what else to say.
Fortunately, the Farsiders were not far from the field. Landing with a rumble like thunder, came one giant, black beast. He towered at least thirty feet into the air, with his long neck stretching to the sky. The beast shot fire from its maw and screeched loudly. Zehnder had only heard of creatures like this in tales of fiction, but now, standing before him, was what seemed like one of the dragons of ancient tales. The beast flicked its long tail and lowered its head to the giant man in armor, set to bathe him in bright, red flame.
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