by Jordan Baker
"Perhaps you have grown feeble," Cerric said. "It matters not. You are too late to stop what I have set in motion, and my power is already greater than that of any god. I am the one god of this world now."
"You are hardly the only god," Stroma told him. "In case you haven't noticed, I am standing right here, and I will be coming for you soon. This time there will be no mercy for you."
"As you wish," Cerric said, his tone cavalier, then he glared at Stroma and his voice became much harder. "I look forward to it."
Ehlena felt a change in the power coming from the crystals and she realized why Kenra had spoken to Stroma. He was trying to slow him down, so the mages could complete their spell. Without even thinking about it, she shifted into wind and snatched the book from the pedestal and barely managed to get to the entrance of the chamber when a blinding flash exploded inside the palace. Tendrils of dark power coursed through the halls, eating the air itself and Ehlena barely managed to avoid being touched by it, the power of the goddess protecting her, keeping the shadows at bay.
The dark energy finally subsided and Ehlena ventured back into the throne room to see the mages lying in a circle around the crystal, which now glowed only faintly and pulsed with a few last traces of dark power. The Darga was crouched, close to the floor, his head bowed, and Stroma stood his ground, encircled in a ball of lighting that burned away the dark flames that fell to the floor around him like burning pitch. The Darga rose slowly, and Ehlena could see that something about him had changed. His reptilian eyes had grown dull and black fire burned away at his scaled hide like acid. The Darga roared, a sound that was a mixture of pain and fury. The flames began to fall away from him and Ehlena saw his eyes become clear again as his reptilian nature resisted the dark power.
"Now, you will die," he said as he held up his sword and advanced toward Stroma.
"You are an interesting creature, Darga," Stroma said. "But you are foolish to think you can fight me."
"I am Meznak, leader of the Darga clans and Commander of the Eastern Army. You will feel my wrath," he said as he ran toward the god.
"Meznak?" Stroma said. "Never heard of you."
Stroma leveled a powerful bolt of lightning at the Darga, ducking out of the way as Meznak slashed at him with his sword. The blade went wide but it absorbed the energy that Stroma had blasted at the Darga. Ehlena noticed the creature growing noticeably larger and the acid burns from the dark energy began to heal. Meznak laughed, exulting in the power that flowed into him. Stroma blasted at him again, this time sending a much thinner and tightly concentrated blast of energy at the creature, like a bolt of white light, it hit the Darga in the leg, cutting a gash that pierced his tough hide and tore through to the muscle underneath.
Meznak roared in pain and leapt toward Stroma, swinging at him with his sword. Stroma moved with a crack of lightning, appearing behind the Darga and grabbing him by one of his wings. He picked up the lizard man and smashed him to the stone floor. Bones crunched and shattered and the sword fell from his clawed grip with a clatter, then Stroma reached down and grabbed the Darga by the head and lifted him off the floor.
"Your one god will meet his end, once and for all," Stroma told him.
"Darga have no gods," the Darga spat, black blood dribbling from his mouth.
"Then why do you follow him?"
"Power," Meznak said. "We will reclaim our power."
"Your clan abused its power," Stroma told him. "It was a mercy to let you live."
"You lie," Meznak growled.
"I am a god," Stroma said, his voice deep with power. "I have no need to lie."
Stroma crushed the skull of the Darga with one hand and threw him to the floor with such force that the stone cracked beneath him. Ehlena was a little unnerved by the hard look on Stroma's face as he burned the Darga blood from his hand then bent down and picked up the sword that had fallen to the floor, but his expression softened a moment later when he saw her standing at the entrance to the throne room.
"You have the book?" He held out his hand as he walked toward her and Ehlena handed it to him.
"I don't know if I reached it in time," she said.
"It matters not," Stroma told her. "The Xallan people are already slaves to their queen, and she has taken up with this Cerric, and through him become the consort to Kenra."
"Stroma, they did not choose to be slaves," Ehlena said.
"No, they did not. It is unfortunate, but there is nothing we can do for them here that won't get more of them killed." Stroma tucked the book into his robe. "We must focus on Kenra. If he falls, then everything else becomes much easier."
"And what about the people out there, dying at the hands of the Darga?" Ehlena asked. "If this is what they are like, I can see why Lexi hates them. We must do something to stop the killing."
"What would you have us do?" Stroma asked. "Kenra knows we are moving against him, and his magic will only make him more powerful. We must find the remaining book."
"And where is it?" Ehlena asked, finding it strange that she could not remember where he had said it was, though she was sure that Stroma had mentioned it.
"I believe it is at Maramyr, or somewhere near to the city," he said. "It is elusive and I cannot tell exactly where it is, as though it is hidden by magic."
"Kenra will expect us," she said.
"I do not think he saw you," Stroma said. "There was a field of energy around those crystals that made me visible, but neither the mage nor the Darga saw you, so Kenra might not know about you, for now at least."
"Once we have the final book, we can stop his power from growing," Ehlena said. "He is still powerful, I think far more powerful than we are."
"Kenra sought the boy, Aaron, from the day he was born." Stroma flipped the sword over by the hilt, letting it hang loosely in his hand. "He sensed his potential even then and has done everything in his power to find him, to take that power for his own. Despite all the power that Kenra has stolen from others, the boy is still a threat to him."
"But Kenra has corrupted his power," Ehlena reminded him. "The Ansari will surely teach him much that is useful, but if Aaron does not come to terms with himself, the shadow may overcome him."
"That will not happen," Stroma told her, his voice as determined as the glint of lightning in his eyes. "Aaron is in the desert with the Ansari, is he not?"
"Yes," Ehlena replied. "He is learning, but it takes time."
"Our time grows short," Stroma said. "We must hurry."
Ehlena nodded, then she turned and took a step toward the corridor that led from the throne room. It was almost imperceptible at first, like a chill running through her, when Ehlena felt the magic of the blade slice into her arm. Stroma gripped her wrist, his crackling energy preventing her from escaping, as the sword to draw her power away. Her body shifted to air around the blade, the power of the goddess reacting instinctively, but it only slowed the sapping of her energy.
"What are you doing?" Ehlena cried, her voice barely a whisper.
"I am sorry, my dear," Stroma said. "If I am to defeat Kenra, I will need every bit of power I can manage."
"Please, Stroma, stop," Ehlena said, feeling her strength ebbing away. "Why would you do this?"
"You are so much like her," Stroma said, his eyes softening for a moment, then his gaze became hard once more. "I cannot allow my sentimentality to get in the way of what must be done. Kenra must be destroyed."
"What of Aaron?" she asked.
"I know you believe in him," Stroma said. "And he is truly powerful, more than should be possible for his kind, but as you said, Kenra has already corrupted the boy with shadow and our time is running short. Were he to fall to the darkness, then his power would be joined with Kenra and it is too much to risk."
"You would betray our oath?" Ehlena asked, remembering an oath they swore to each other, long ago, a memory of the goddess. "Never again would the gods kill one another."
"That was a promise I made to Ayra, the Lady goddess,
and she is gone," Stroma said. "You are someone else."
"Please," Ehlena pleaded softly. "You don't have to do this."
"I am sorry," he told her, and a look of infinite sorrow crossed his face, then he looked away, in resolute shame. "You don't deserve this, but there is no other way."
Ehlena felt the power of the godsword weaken for a moment, along with the grip of his power that held her in place, and she took her chance, hoping it would work. She shifted herself to air, dissipating her form slowly, hoping he would not notice as she shifted as much of herself away from the god while keeping her outer form as visible as she could. Slower now, she carefully dissipated the last of her essence, fading herself away as though the godsword was absorbing the rest of her being. She looked at Stroma, wondering if he would stop, hoping that he did not truly intend to destroy her, but she learned the answer when she felt his grip tighten and the godsword pressed a little harder in place, until it finally slipped right through her. The last thing he saw as she disappeared was a tear falling from her cheek and turning to mist as Ehlena, the essence and power of the goddess he had loved, faded entirely, leaving only a profound emptiness.
Stroma slowly tucked the blade under his robe and stood alone at the threshold of the throne room. He looked back at the circle of dead mages, the crystal now turned dark with malevolence, and the shattered throne upon the dais, and he knew what must be done. This king called Cerric, the corporeal host of Kenra, the dark god who was the manifestation of the shadow, must be destroyed at all costs, even if it meant his own life. Determined in his course, Stroma turned and walked from the room, heading down the dark corridor of the palace and out into the world.
In the corners, the cracks and the spaces between the stones of the palace, Ehlena waited, hiding herself in empty agony, feeling as though her entire being had been stripped and lashed with a thousand cuts. Already weak, it was difficult to remain formless but she held on as long as she could, hoping Stroma was gone. Like cloud wisps gathering Ehlena reappeared in the throne room, her form almost translucent from how much power had been taken from her. It took all her determination to return to herself and the effort left her weak and exhausted.
After she regained her breath, Ehlena slowly made her way down the darkened hallway. Outside, in the palace courtyard, she watched, powerless as hundreds of Darga moved out in formation, dragging the chained groups of frightened prisoners along with them. Dozens of the creatures that had managed to gain wings leapt into the air and took to the sky as the army began its march out of the city. With what little power she had left, Ehlena kept herself veiled from sight and she sat down on the steps of the palace, overlooking the stone courtyard stained with the blood of innocents, and she breathed quietly, listening to the world.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Who dares to worship in this temple?" Cerric yelled as he threw open the doors and stormed into the temple.
"Stroma welcomes you," Willem said from the dais, doing his best to smile, despite the dark fury on the face of the god-king.
Cerric stopped a few paces away and looked up at the gaunt, grey robed mage, who wore a patch over one eye. He looked around the vast chamber and saw that it was otherwise empty, a hollow shell, like the power of the god in whose honor the temple had been built long ago, in a different age. Still, even though the temple was empty, save for the mage, he could feel a familiar crackle of static in the air and the scent of a power he knew well. Cerric glared at the mage and then he gathered a ball of dark power in his hand and threw it at him. White lightning struck from every angle, blasting the dark power to pieces before it could touch the mage.
"I see Stroma yet retains a little power," Cerric said.
"The great god offers his divine protection to those why might seek it," Willem said, doing his best to keep his voice from wavering in fear.
Cerric began to laugh, his hard, deep voice echoing through the temple.
"His protection will not last much longer, mage," he said. "And when Stroma has been killed, you will serve me."
"Stroma welcomes you," Willem said, holding up a hand. "He offers you a choice. Receive the gift of absolution, redemption, and peace, or face certain destruction."
"A choice? Do as I say or be locked away. Now he offers destruction? That has always been Stroma's way, thus I offer no such choice. You may tell your god that I will welcome him, that he may fall before me and worship at my feet, and even beg of my mercy, and no matter how much he pleads, he will be destroyed," Cerric told him, irritated at the open defiance of the mage and the elder god, whose time was long past. "As for you, mage, enjoy your moment of mockery, for your life shall be fleeting."
Cerric turned and strode from the temple, cutting through the soldiers who had accompanied him from the palace. They moved out of his way and fell in line behind him, remaining silent at the dark expression on his face. In his anger, Cerric did not notice a few of them glancing over their shoulders at the open doors of the temple and whispering about the bright lightning that coursed up and down the high stone walls of its structure.
*****
Determined to overcome the fears and doubts that she would become a monster, Lexi did her best to focus on her training with Ashan, while Aaron fought at the center of a circle of the desert people. The Ansari were adept at shapeshifting, able to become any number of creatures, and some of them even taking on elemental features, and she was amazed at the numerous forms they used when fighting with Aaron, testing him and taunting him.
Ashan explained to her and Tash, who watched quietly, that Aaron was being forced to fight using only the power that already flowed through him, relying on his essence alone, in the hope that he would become stronger, drawing power in a different way than he had before. If he were to reach directly for the raw energy at his core, using it the way the mages did when they created works of magic, he would allow the shadow to grow, but if he could reach for it indirectly, as the Ansari did, he might avoid the shadow. At least that was the hope.
Lexi had watched Aaron fight for a while and it was obvious that he was at a disadvantage, but she noticed that with every fight he seemed to become stronger. Still, it was difficult to watch, for the Ansari did not spare him their strength, battering him with relentless attacks and only stopping short of killing blows. It was both brutal and delicate, and not without risk to the Ansari either, for they had all seen Aaron fall under the influence of the shadow when he had fought the Ansari leader, and though he did not reach for his power, they could see how tempting it was, especially when he was being attacked.
Lexi's training with Ashan had allowed her to see such things even more than before, and she too worried that Aaron would fall prey to the shadow that burned within him. She realized that her own problem was similar in a way, that she feared the killer, the monster inside of her. Lexi knew the rage and the killing fury within her and she had taught herself how to keep it from controlling her, from making her do things, but she knew that if anyone tried to harm Aaron, who had shown her kindness and had never looked at her any differently from anyone else, then she would unleash her own darkness. Ashan told her that she could learn to channel her rage, to use it as a kind of magic, like the mages and the Ansari did with their energy, and it could make her powerful, so she decided to try harder, to become stronger so she could protect the one who had saved her.
"Close your eyes, Lexi," Ashan said. "Now breathe slowly and deeply, and feel your form."
"I know how to do this already," she grumbled.
"Yes, you do," Ashan said. "But it is important that you learn to do this without having to think about it. To be in a perfect state of self, no matter what form you take, is imperative to retaining who you are."
"I don't know who I am," Lexi said, her words slipping from her lips before she even thought about them.
"That is the greatest truth you have spoken to me," Ashan told her.
Lexi cracked open an eye.
"I do not tell lies," she said
.
"I did not say you lied."
"You said it was more true than other things," Lexi said, opening her eyes and squinting at him. "It is one or the other."
"No," Ashan said with a frustrated sigh and a patient smile. "What makes the desert?"
"The desert?" Lexi looked around. "It is sand."
"That is true," Ashan said. "Is that all there is in the desert?"
"There are some rocks and sometimes there is an oasis, but that's different from the desert."
"A those things not part of the desert?"
"I don't know," Lexi said.
"Again you speak a greater truth," Ashan told her.
"So saying I don't know things is telling the truth?" Lexi frowned. "You think I don't know anything."
Ashan ignored what she had said and pressed forward.
"If I asked you who you are, you could tell me your name, that you are Lexi. Would that be true?"
"Yes," she said. "It's my name."
"But there is more to you than merely your name, yes?"
"Yes," she said.
"Your name is just a word, but the truth of you is far more than just a name and far more than what is on the outside. Like the desert, you are not just flesh and bones and skin, you are who you are, and that includes your thoughts, your feelings, things that cannot be seen at a glance. You have your own rocks and oases, and those things remain constant while your form can be like the sand, moving and changing. The secret is to know where the firm places are, and to know where to find your water, even when the sands change and try to bury them."
"I have rocks and an oasis?"
"They are metaphors," Ashan replied. "I speak of the parts of you that remain the same, no matter how else you might change."
"What if I want to change the rocks or if I can't find the oasis?"
"Those are two very different questions, Lexi," Ashan said, pleased that she had grasped the idea though concerned at her reasons for asking. "You must first know the shape of the rocks before you can go about changing them, and before anything, you must know where you can find water if you are to keep yourself alive in the ever changing sands."
