Gifts of Vorallon: 02 - City of Thunder

by Thomas Cardin

  Hethal remained still and silent. If he knew what lay ahead of them, he revealed nothing. Lorace considered that a good thing. If what he had done today, embracing tranquility, had removed all chance of surviving, he doubted Hethal could hold so resolutely still.

  “But now, because of the tipping balance toward corruption, another god has gained access to Vorallon through the weakening of barriers between the universes, the God of Undeath. I suspect that that is the most pivotal factor to the continuation of the grand cycle of souls, not the threat the demons posed to us.”

  “What is undeath?” Iris asked, unable to remain silent any longer.

  “It is the absence of life and death,” Lorace said. “That is my understanding of it from what I gathered from the words of Aran and Lorn.

  They were cryptic, but I feel that is what they were alluding to. Lorn referred to the Devourer as the Undying One, that he heralds the coming of this dark God of Undeath.”

  Lorace took another drink of the dwarven ale. What he said was simply guesswork now, but everything that came to him felt right. He took the pause of that drink to think very hard about his guesses before he continued. These people were precious, their lives and the life that remained on Vorallon was everything to him. He owed them this chance to understand things as he did, though to some he felt sure it would cause pain.

  “The Devourer is the spirit of Tezzirax excised from my body and soul by the blade of Sir Rindal,” he continued. “Iris has told us that the Devourer wears my face. That he is the size of many men, and that as he claims the flesh of the living he grows even larger. I believe he is not living, nor that he has a soul that contains his spirit. His spirit has absorbed the flesh of the dead and molded it about him in a familiar pattern, my pattern, my face.

  “When I have used my sight to view the Devourer, he has appeared as only a shadowy form. At the same time, he has been aware of my presence. I think it is because of the connection he had with my body and soul for many years, and it allows me to see him, if only vaguely. It is my hope that when I face him, that connection between us will be enough to allow me to slay him.

  “This I must do before my twenty fourth birthday, which fast approaches. Thanks to my chain’s absorption of the demons and their magic, I have the strength now to aid the gods in performing my ascension,” Lorace said. “If I fail to slay the Devourer or ascend before he is slain, he will halt all life and death here on Vorallon, and none will remain that possess the strength to stay his hand. As a god I will be unable to directly act upon this sphere, as a god I cannot stop him, as a man I may be able to.”

  “I laid him low before,” Sir Rindal declared. “I am nothing if not stronger now. He will fall before Brakke Zahn!”

  “He is not what he was before, Sir Rindal,” Lorace said patiently to the paladin. “As horrible and foul as demons are they are still living, they possess souls and spirits, their flesh is hueratta, but it is living in its own way. If you cut down his body of dead flesh then his spirit, tremendously powerful now, will be set free once again. What do we know of demons?”

  Lorace took a last drink of the ale in his mug while waiting for his friends to answer. Oen was first to speak.

  “Demons are born within Nefryt,” the priest began. “They are souls that still possess the powerful corrupt spirits they died with on Vorallon. Somehow, they form new bodies of this hueratta, a material form of corruption. They can be banished from Vorallon with a ritual and affected by magic, but normal weapons pose no dangers to them.”

  “And what do they do when they come to Vorallon?” Lorace asked.

  “They kill. They kill until they have killed so many the weight of souls pulls back to Nefryt.”

  Lorace turn to the paladin. “Tezzirax halted before you when I was a child. Do you remember what he said to you when he balked at trying to take your life?”

  Sir Rindal hesitated but a moment before answering. “He said he could only kill one more, and that had to be you, Lorace.”

  “I remember that clearly as well,” Lorace said. “But he said something else just before, he said he had already killed twenty three and bragged about how much power that had given him.”

  “Yes,” Sir Rindal affirmed. “That is what he said.”

  Tornin spoke up. “I can definitely say that the demon who we saw vanish in the fight with the dwarves was more powerful than his companions. So with each soul they take, they gain power?”

  “This is the nature of a demon’s spirit,” Lorace said with a nod. “Tezzirax’s spirit is still a demon’s spirit, but it has never been pulled back to Nefryt despite its having slain countless others. His break from his soul removed that restriction upon him, and he has gotten more powerful with each kill. I think that is the power that draws the God of Undeath here, like iron drawn to a lodestone.”

  “This does not make me feel any better about you having to face him, Lorace,” Oen said.

  “There is more,” Lorace said with his brows lowered in a frown. “I looked upon Blackdrake after the battle today. There are thousands of people walking the streets, all of them dead. The skeletons of people whom the Devourer claimed walk among the dead who have risen from the crypts and graveyards of the land. This is undeath. As we walked back through the streets of Halversome, I was scouting much of the land of Ousenar. What I saw in Blackdrake is spreading.”

  “It is the beginning of the end of all things,” Hethal muttered. “The final nightmare has not been avoided.”

  “I must not rise to be only the Lord of Nefryt,” Lorace said. “I must also seal the ways of this realm to the God of Undeath and keep them sealed—this is the destiny I choose. I can only ascend after destroying the Devourer. The gods know this. It has been their plan from the beginning.”

  “Then you have not changed the destiny they set before you,” Iris reasoned.

  “But I have, today I was supposed to embrace rage once again,” Lorace said. “The rage I was denied when I witnessed the death of my parents because of the demon’s possession of my body. I was supposed to succumb to it today, this was the decision the gods knew I must make, but I did not. I found the strength, and courage, to deny that rage. I was supposed to ascend as the Lord of Vengeance, and now I will not.”

  Sir Rindal stood silently and turned from the table. His powerful shoulders were hunched and shaking.

  “You as well, did what the gods did not plan for, Sir Rindal,” Lorace comforted him. “You were a man, not a mindless slave of destiny—free to choose the actions you took.”

  “No,” Sir Rindal said in anguish. “That is not why I weep. The Lady used me and betrayed my friends, your parents and my fellow knights. She knew they were to die that day, even though she could not have seen Tezzirax, still she knew they were to die, and I was far away on her bidding. I could have saved them from Tezzirax if she had summoned me forth just a few heartbeats sooner. Fara and Veladis and the other knights of the Order died that day to make one little boy angry—angry enough to become the God of Vengeance. If I had simply slain Tezzirax or if he had slain me and vanished back to Nefryt the result would have been the same as far as the gods were concerned.”

  “And if I had slain so much as one demon today while rage burned in my heart,” Lorace said raising his white circled palms. “My spirit would have embraced the corruption instead of converting it to purity, as Adwa-Ki had forewarned me. I would then have descended upon the Devourer, falling over him a darker and hungrier monster than even he, and in my victory, I would turn back the God of Undeath. I would then ascend to Nefryt where I would fix the flaws of purification there and hold all demons in an unbreakable grip, ensuring the restoration of the balance. But I would be a monster of a god, all dark creatures would worship me and I would revel in that worship.”

  His friends held their breath in tense silence, unable to deny his words. The bunching of muscles in Tornin’s shoulders was so great, the links of his chain armor ground together in a whisper of strain.

/>   “I was stronger than that, thankfully,” Lorace said. “If in my rage I was foreordained to defeat the Devourer then I shall have to do so in tranquility now. I do not know what will become of me when I ascend, if I ascend, but I swear to you all that I shall do whatever I must to ensure the continuation of life and the restoration of the balance. I do not think my decision has doomed us at all—it is my destiny now. That is the decision my brothers insisted I must make, yet they believed I would choose anger and vengeance. Lorn in particular fairly insured it with his manipulations, but I do not think they realized just how much all of you affected me. They were boys when they ascended, their capacity for love not fully matured.”

  Lorace raised a hand to ease Oen’s protest at this statement. “Lord Aran loves as no other can. I shall never know the depths of his love for all of you. What I mean is that the Lords do not understand the love we can have for each other as fully as we do. They underestimate how much we feel for each other. They failed to understand how seeing a spirit reborn to purity, such as Iris and Moyan, would affect me.”

  Lorace laid his hands on the chain before him. “The dwarves named this chain Sakke Vrang, the Chain of Vengeance. I had not understood why it bore that name until today as Lord Aizel flowed into me when I grasped it in my satchel. I wanted vengeance for the people of Zed, for my parents, and the life stolen from me. The chain is indeed vengeance, but I found the strength within me not to be. The chain seems satisfied with that arrangement.”

  “The gods will be as well, Lorace,” Oen said, slapping the table with his palm. “The Lords are your brothers. I have to believe that this alternative is something they hoped for, even if they dared not expect it.”

  Lorace smiled at them all, his broad, unreserved smile. “I believe you are right.”

  “Lorace,” Falraan spoke up. “What would have happened to us, to Halversome, if you had chosen vengeance?”

  “I would have preserved you all,” Lorace said after thinking for a moment. “Not out of love, but out of duty as Vorallon’s warden, the same factor would have had me repair the flaw in Nefryt rather than use it to further feed my power. I would hold my place on the fulcrum of balance as surely as my brothers do. That is something ingrained in me beyond any choice of destiny, I feel certain of it. Even in my rage I held the fate of Vorallon paramount.”

  Lorace turned to General Moyan and changed the subject sharply. “How many can your ships hold, General?”

  “Well, besides my largely complete army they have the room to hold close to a thousand additional people,” Moyan said then lowered his eyes to his lap. “We came to gain a thousand prisoners and slaves, every man, woman, and child of Halversome.”

  “That was another life,” Lorace gave his head a slight shake. “Can they be ready to sail by tomorrow morning? Prince Wralka and his warriors will be here before dusk today, they push themselves hard down the Silarne. Adwa-Ki promised the elves would be arriving by then as well—I cannot track them as easily as I can the dwarves because they are so scattered throughout the Keth Forest. We will need everyone we can to fight the undead. I do not know what will happen should my chain touch one. Their nature may be beyond the corruption and foulness that Sakke Vrang was forged to consume.”

  “I will leave at once to have my men prepare the ships, my Lord,” Moyan said as he stood.

  “Just Lorace, please,” Lorace asserted with a smile as Moyan headed for the door. “I ask this of you as your friend. Only to Tornin am I Liege Lord.”

  Lorace clapped Tornin soundly on the shoulder.

  Tornin laughed. “I am your vassal, my Lord, but I am a slave to another, I fear.” He leaned over to kiss Falraan beside him.

  Iris, who sat across from Lorace, blushed furiously as her eyes met his during this display of affection. She held the stare with him for a few moments before her huge eyes began to fill with tears.

  Lorace stood and circled the table as Iris buried her face in her hands and cried. He knelt to embrace her. Falraan, hearing the sobs coming from Iris, pushed away from Tornin and leaned across the table to reach toward her. “What is it, dear, why do you cry?”

  “She cries because she loves me,” Lorace said without releasing his embrace. “And she knows that I love her, she is very well attuned to that emotion.”

  “You should be happy then, dear Iris!” Falraan exclaimed as she clung to one of Iris’s delicate hands.

  “I will lose him,” Iris sobbed. “When he ascends, I will lose him. I will kneel to worship the god who was the man I fell in love with.”

  “You will love him no less,” Sir Rindal said, his own eyes glistening. “My heart belongs to the Lady, not just as a man loves his god—more than that, though her actions betrayed me, and the destiny she wove took my dear friends from me, I love her still as a man loves a woman. She is harsh and often petty, but I know she loves me as I love her.”

  “Is that true?” Iris asked, extracting her hand from Falraan to hold Lorace’s head against her chest. “Is love enough? Can I be happy without his embrace?”

  Hethal spoke up. “It is more, Iris. It is so much more. You will feel his embrace still. I could not have lived without the arms of my god, holding me against my nightmares of the future.”

  Still weeping, Iris bent down to kiss the crown of Lorace’s head. “I suppose I must be satisfied with that arrangement as well.”

  Lorace raised his face and kissed her mouth, gently at first and then more firmly as she crushed him to her with surprising strength.

  Oen sat at the end of the table and smiled at them all as he took the platter of hot food Ehddan offered. Eventually the smell of roast pork, buttered dark bread, and the steaming mix of vegetables brought everyone back to their seats to eat, though Lorace took the seat vacated by Moyan to be beside Iris. When Moyan returned he made quiet note of the change in seating with a raised eyebrow and took up Lorace’s former position.

  Between mouthfuls of food, he told them that the Zuxran war galleys would be ready by tomorrow, and they would stay readied until they sailed at his friend’s convenience. He asked Captain Falraan’s permission to bring the galleys into the protected docks below the city. She and Oen both nodded their assent. Moyan dispatched a waiting Zuxran soldier to inform the ships’ crews.

  Oen stood after eating. “I will see that the ships are well provisioned for the crossing,” he said before he departed.

  “How long will it take to cross the Vestral Sea to Blackdrake?” Lorace asked Moyan. “Assume we have a favorable wind.”

  “It will take most of four days,” Moyan said. “Blackdrake lies across the narrow sea and far to the south.”

  Lorace nodded and returned his attention to the remains of a trencher of savory roast, glad to eat. His burgeoning spirit sustained him, but food nourished his body in a way that spirit alone could not, easing the weariness of the flesh and the tightening of his belly.

  When he had eaten everything before him but crumbs, he stood as well. “I am going to the temple to face my brothers.” He took Iris’s hand, raising her to her feet.

  Tornin began to climb to his feet as well, but Falraan grabbed him and yanked him back into his seat. “We will meet you there soon,” she said to Lorace and Iris with a twinkling smile. “Take your time.”

  Chapter 13

  JOINED BEFORE ALL

  Twenty-Eighth day of the Moon of the Thief

  -in Halversome

  Iris strolled hand in hand with Lorace through the red and amber-paved streets of Halversome, relieved to find the heavy clouds parting to allow the noon sun to shine. The city was spectacular in the full light of the sun, an incomparable improvement over the colorless oppression of Blackdrake Castle, but her eyes never left Lorace’s clean featured profile. She did not speak, though her active mind begged her to, she could not frame a single coherent question. How do you do it? How do you see the world? What do you feel? The questions all sounded trite, when she really wanted to ask him to tell her everything. />
  He was lost in his thoughts, doubtless absorbing everything the day had brought him about his destiny. His eyes remained focused though, so she knew he was here with her, instead of sending his awareness across half the world. She needed to break in to his thoughts, open him like a book and rifle through the pages of who he was, but could not yet form a coherent question.

  Finally, she struck upon an idea and acted. She leaned into his measured step, the crown of her head coming just beneath his chin, forcing him to stumble briefly before catching them both with a resilient cushion of air, his arms went around her just as quickly. The air at his command swirled away as he released it a moment later, though his arms did not let her go. She returned his expression of concern with a look of pure innocence until she could hold back her laughter no longer.

  His laughter was deep and rang in harmony with her own.

  “Thank you,” he said once their laughter had run its course. “I needed to be shaken out of my thoughts.”

  “I thought you might have needed a bit of help remembering where you were, but is it really as simple as that, controlling the very air around you?” Iris asked.

  Lorace shrugged. “The air is very eager to obey my will.”

  She leaned her temple against his chest and relaxed in his embrace. “You will have to let me go eventually, and I hope it is the most difficult thing you ever have to do.”

  “I know,” he murmured, his voice coming to her more through his chest than his lips. “Destroying the army of Nefryt will seem like nothing in comparison.”

  Iris smiled into his chest, smelling fire and storm on his robes. “Can you promise me something?”

  “Anything my destiny allows me to promise, I shall,” he whispered.

  “Share everything you can with me—help me understand you.”

  “I will share everything I am with you,” he spoke in a heavy voice, thick with yearning. “I want to know everything of you as well, Iris.”