Ringwall`s Doom

by Awert, Wolf

  The gray figures surrounding Malachiris multiplied, but again their movement was slowed as though they were wading through quicksand. Cruel lines marked Rinja’s face. It must have cost enormous amounts of focus and energy to keep the creatures of the Other World at bay. “Help me, sister. This Malachiris is a beast.”

  “Help yourself! I’m up to my neck in Galvan’s mages!”

  The dustriders had drawn their bows and fired a volley at Dakh, Sedramon and Nill. Uul filled the arrows with fire, but they did not make it far. Five paces they flew at full speed, then they hit the shield and fell useless to the ground. Skorn-Vis had made the shield so potent that nothing could get in or out.

  “What are you playing at?” Uul yelled at him.

  “I’m protecting our men!” he yelled back. “Can’t you see what’s going on? Even if we managed to kill the druid and the others, we’d be no closer to Nill! We’d just draw everyone else to us. This is not our fight! Leave it be, brother, and help me with this shield. Our riders are good men and don’t deserve to die.”

  Malachiris turned her back on everyone as though she had nothing in the world to fear and entered the Borderlands. She appeared to call something, looked back on the battlefield and laughed again.

  “What devilry is she planning now?” Dakh wondered aloud. She was now up to her waist in the water.

  The water began to bubble yellow and from it rose new mud; it took shape, forming a terrible parody of a human. Drooping features that were blurred by the flowing water, a mouth, wide open and howling, blind eyes and greedily outstretched arms that fell apart and reformed in the constant stream of Water and Earth now rising from the depths, giving the creature life and strength. And there was not just one. Soon a second rose, and a third. They appeared to float just above the water’s surface without losing the connection to the element that had birthed them.

  “Bordermen!” Dakh froze for a moment, but he caught himself and began to muster the counterattack.

  He flung a wall of Water at the creature, for this element was truly not in short supply here, including on the island of semi-hard earth they were standing on. “Fight Water with Water!” he yelled as his attack hit and the creatures fell apart. But the wave had only just passed when they began to reform.

  “Drink the water, sunder the land!” the druid shouted now, and at his command roots thicker than arms broke through the ground and wove together to surround the creatures in a cage and spearing them through their hearts. The mud-creatures stood still. Their mouths were wide open, wailing, and the long, dripping water hair became one with their flowing clothes. They smelled old. Stale and dead. Stronger and stronger the rotten smell became as the cages darkened and fell apart and became part of the morass.

  “Dakh, they are women,” Nill called, but the druid shook his head. “No, they are monsters made of magic and have no gender.”

  “No, I meant—”

  Dakh did not hear what Nill was trying to say, because he did not manage to finish his sentence. The gray creatures of the Other World had fought through Rinja’s defenses and it was only a matter of moments before they reached the group. Nill looked around. Sedramon-Per was holding back Galvan and his people, Dakh fought back the mud-creatures with little success; he could knock them back again and again, but they would not break. Brolok was slicing through Malachiris’ warriors and AnaNakara had one hand raised to the sky, sending a beam of light from the ground to the heavens as protection from the elements, and with the other she flung the primal powers of nature at Malachiris. Bairne, still standing behind Nill, did her best to confuse and weaken Malachiris’ mages, but she could not stop them completely. Nill felt the blows and the tearing at his aura and the vibrating beam of light. But who would take care of the small warriors of the Other World?

  Nill threw Water at them, Fire’s natural enemy, but they shielded themselves with Earth. Fire barrages were answered with dark embers and the gray ones walked through the fire as though it was part of their world. The only thing they were not protected against was Wood magic, but their tough skin contained considerable amounts of Metal magic and their short, magically imbued blades sliced through even the strongest tendrils.

  “Become light!” Nill shouted and showered the little gray demons, or whatever they were, with the blinding white light that made them throw up their arms to protect their eyes.

  Light! That was it! They were vulnerable to light, but Nill was already weakening. He trusted he could return at least one of the creatures back whence they had come, but they were no longer individuals. It was a dense mass of stout bodies, and their numbers did not stop growing.

  Nill turned to Sedramon-Per. “Can you keep me safe?” he asked, and then he was gone. His body remained in the world full of danger as his spirit raced through the Other World.

  “What’s the little fool up to now?” Morb-au-Morhg muttered under his breath. Small puddles began to form around Nill as Morhg the Mighty crafted a hasty Water shield around him. “Water is everywhere here. Let’s hope it’s enough.”

  But Morb’s fears were unfounded. Bairne put her fingers together and made Nill disappear behind a swarm of dancing midges.

  Nill was gone. Although his body remained in the middle of the chaos of elements battling for supremacy, all life had left him. He was standing on the wide Plains of the Dead and calling his demon’s name. The same creature he had killed not long ago and brought back to existence. Now he listened to the empty echo of his voice as it returned to him. His voice was oddly flat and dull here in the Other World and did not amount to more than a whisper; a scream that died in the broadness of the plains, a roar that turned to a hoarse croak in his throat.

  He listened closely. No one spoke. The dead passed by as they always did. Small magical creatures ran over the ground on their tiny legs, oblivious to everything but their own concerns. No eagle legs, no goat legs and no scratching scales.

  Would have been too easy, Nill thought, having the Demon Lords help me out of a sticky situation again.

  He was not really surprised at the silence. Had he ever called someone in the Other World? Could you even call if your body remained behind?

  Nill returned to the outer rim where only the mid-realm separated the Here from the Beyond and where the guardians of the Other World stood.

  “Could you tell me where my demon is? I’ve called him but he hasn’t answered.”

  “No, we’re only here to make sure that humans don’t enter our world.”

  “What? I’m here. What am I if not human?”

  Puzzled faces looked back at him. “We don’t know. Perhaps an idea, a feeling or a memory? Whatever you are, you’re not a human. Humans have human bodies, which you don’t.”

  “But there are humans, mages and shamans that travel through the Other World with their bodies,” Nill said impatiently. Even if time worked differently in the Other World, he was running out. His friends were fighting for their lives, and currently for his as well. The last thing he needed right now was to have to play at guessing games.

  “Thanks for your help!” he shouted at them and ran off. That was a waste of time and I didn’t have much to begin with. ‘No time, no time’ his heart seemed to beat.

  Before long his heart no longer beat, but raced, his breath short and pained. He kept his mouth wide open to get more air into his tired lungs.

  Considering I’ve got no body, moving is hard work. Then again… if I’m not bound to the laws of my world, I don’t need to run. He jumped into the air and flapped his arms. He could actually fly here. Why didn’t I think of that before?

  With his arms beating the air he flew across the plains back in the direction he had come from. But his newfound freedom did not last long, for Nill was not a bird and as such lacked the biological properties to keep flapping indefinitely. His shoulder ached.

  “Have to… save… strength,” he coughed, and he flapped one more time and went into a glide. He wished he could get higher to see more o
f the plains.

  Nill drifted up without moving his arms or feeling the wind. Not much moved in the Other World.

  I am an idiot. Without a body, there’s no reason to flap. I can move freely.

  There were no more boundaries now, and an endless and pointless search began. Across the plains he shouted every name he could think of, apart from the three great Demon Lords.’ There were not many names he remembered.

  “Odioras!” his voice echoed in the musty air. Name followed name. When Nill exhausted his list of names, he began again. Now that he kept his mouth shut, his words carried far further than previously.

  “You’re making a racket,” a voice said. Nill looked down and saw a small creature at his feet. He cautiously lowered himself to the ground.

  “Who are you?”

  “Who am I?” the creature asked back. “You humans call me Odioras. I am a demon.”

  “You’re supposed to be Odioras?” Nill’s eyes widened. “The Odioras I know is a mighty demon, one of the great ones, a Demon of Pure Emotion. Odioras is the lord of Cold Hate. He is twice my size, back then he broke the library ceiling with his head. He had to squeeze down small to even fit.”

  “I don’t need to shrink here. I am Odioras, but there is no Cold Hate here on the Plains of the Dead. The shades around us are no more than memories. Memories can be hateful, but it’s always the first thing to fade. And you – you are full of desperation, not hatred. Without it, I am small, or not even there.”

  “I’m looking for a demon. I know his name but I can’t pronounce it. He is my friend or servant or whatever, I’m not really sure.”

  After a short pause, Odioras asked: “What’s the creature’s name?”

  Nill make a croaking sound.

  “You must go where all demons are. He will find you there, for a human spirit is so foreign that it can only attract attention.”

  “Where is this place?”

  “The path there is different for everyone. You must visit three places of which I only know the first. And you must walk through the hall of fear. That’s all I know.”

  “How do I get there?”

  The demon pointed vaguely in some direction. “Just go that way.”

  “And if I get lost, can I find you again?”

  “You can’t get lost. I could have pointed in any direction, but you humans always seem to need a particular one. It doesn’t matter, really, if you know where you want to go.”

  Nill had no time and absolutely no more patience for riddles. He managed not to be rude and gave a polite farewell and a sincere offer of thanks. Then the fear of being too late drove him on, and he was gone. Even here, in the Other World, he could sense Malachiris. Her summoning of the half-demons and mud-creatures left its mark even in the realm of shadow.

  The hall of fear caught him like a blow to his chest. Nill collapsed and vomited out everything he had ever eaten and felt his heart racing in his throat. The thought that he was bodiless, and therefore safe, was as helpful as a hairnet for fetching water. What mattered was that he had memories of his body, and that was enough for the fear to cripple him. Nill’s muscles cramped up, his fingers gnarled to claws, his shoulders drew together so close in an effort to protect him from the inevitable bite that he threatened to choke. Bite? You’re in the Other World, Nill! There is no khanwolf, no roc and no dragon to bite you! He attempted to soothe himself, but his thoughts remained hazy, unfinished sentences, little more than single impressions until even they fled from the painful tightness around his heart. His thoughts fell silent and every single motion caused unbearable pain.

  When the body no longer works and thoughts fall into the step just before death, man opens up to the stream of magic. And occasionally, very occasionally, the magic takes control. This time it was not Nill who spoke the words in an altered state of mind. No one spoke. Nill could only guess that someone far away was counting. Counting down to his end?

  Everywhere, Nothing

  Flying, free falling,

  From five to four

  Leave forevermore

  The realms now are three

  Only two left to see

  Only one

  Now none.

  I have reached the end

  To my will it will bend.

  Nill was emphatically not at the end, but the magical words broke the web of fear and worry that had encased him by leaping under the Nothing’s influence against the stream of magic back to the beginning of time. It was the magic that drove fear and panic from his body and mind and caused him to break down.

  Nill could not go another step. But the passage from the hall of fear to the plains of emotion required no such action, for the emotions came to him and led him to the high room of curses; he had barely entered when they crashed around him in a wild, unceasing babble. But after what he had just gone through, the room of curses was practically harmless.

  At first, Nill only heard the buzzing and humming of countless wings, just like the honeybees back home. It grew louder and stronger and came threateningly close. But then the hum turned into single voices. Deep and high-pitched, loud and quiet, soft and flattering, commanding, snarling. Threatening. Screaming. Fatherly caring. Nill did not know what to make of it; in the noise he could not make out a single word. He had to concentrate completely on a voice to hear the words it spoke.

  “Curse you, may your skin fester and your meat rot from your body! Your hair…”

  I have no body, Nill tried to interrupt the voice with a quiet smile. Your curses won’t work. But the voice ranted on as though he was not there.

  Well, maybe you don’t mean me. Maybe these are all the curses ever spoken in Pentamuria.

  “Be blessed. Although not all your wishes may be fulfilled, know that my eye will rest on you long after I have left this world.”

  Nill was surprised. That was not a curse, it was a blessing. Were they one and the same? Nothing more than wishes, no matter the outcome?

  He was not afraid of curses. Although freeing a person from a curse was one of the most difficult tasks an arcanist could face, freeing a body of poison was infinitely harder and was considered the pinnacle of the healing arts.

  These curses were no more than sentences of disembodied voices. But why was a curse in his own world so powerful that even experienced mages feared them? From what he could see, the worst thing had been the fear, the strangest thing the storm of emotions, and the most mysterious thing was the powerlessness of curses. What was it that connected the three and formed a path to the demons?

  Nill stood still. His path was blocked. The demon he had feared, killed and revived stood before him. His demon.

  He wanted to shout “I need you!,” but instead he asked: “What is a curse, and why are they so powerless here?”

  The demon looked up from under his heavy eyelids and a hiss escaped his mouth. “Time,” Nill heard him say. “The time.”

  Again, Nill did not understand and decided to solve this riddle later. So many riddles…

  “I need you,” Nill finally said. “I need you to fight with me against your brothers from your own world. They were summoned to kill my friends and me.”

  The demon remained motionless. Suddenly, he was holding that terrible toothed blade in his hand, although Nill had not seen him draw it. Then the demon was gone and Nill found himself in a sea of noises pressing in on his eardrums. He was sitting amongst his companions and saw naked horror in Dakh’s and Sedramon’s faces. But they were not staring at him. Their eyes were fixed on a muscular creature behind him, whose aura emanated the stench of decay, destruction and downfall. Sedramon and Dakh raised their hands to cast something at the demon, but before they could say a word, the demon rushed at the gray horde.

  Brolok had picked up the dead warrior’s daggers and plunged into the rest of the attackers. The mages following Malachiris seemed distracted. He did not fear them, but they still outnumbered him twenty to one, and his chances of survival seemed dismal. But perhaps he cou
ld at least cause some trouble. What wouldn’t he have given to have Bairne back, just like at the campfire! That ambush had been just like the one here, also in a stinking bog.

  The thought of Bairne drove an icicle through his heart. Why had she left? A wife should not leave her husband. Brolok’s rage flowed into a hard, reckless attack that got him a painful riposte.

  “She helps me in Fugman’s Refuge, helps me and Nill in the fight against the bandits. And then she just goes with an excuse that couldn’t be less clear. Bairne, what do you want?!”

  The last words were more of a battle cry than a question and Brolok dug his head into his opponent’s stomach. Twenty to one was long odds, but these warriors were so clumsy that it would again not be a fight, but a massacre. Brolok looked around, confused. Remembering the fight at the campfire, he could not find it within himself to kill the helpless man in front of him. He whacked his new dagger’s hilt against his opponent’s temple and the man was knocked out. A low kick sent another enemy to the ground. Brolok even found the time to put one of the new daggers in his sling and fire off a bolt of energy any sorcerer would have been proud of. One of the mages stumbled and knocked another man over as he fell. Their surprised expressions told him that they did not know the source of the attack.

  Brolok unsheathed the second dagger and just barely dodged as one of the soldiers ran at him like a treerunner. No more games, then. Fifteen to one, but this time fifteen skilled warriors who were suddenly no longer bound.

  “Bairne,” Brolok shouted, “what have you done?”

  Brolok had finally realized the Bairne was somewhere close, but she could not see that she also had put a shield over Nill and could no longer protect him. How could he, dancing around for his life?

  “Never show mercy in a fight,” he scolded himself under his breath as he parried a hit from a club with an upward slash. The stabbing shortsword that followed he blocked with a circular motion of his left wrist. The dagger that now faced his enemy’s sword arm he brought up like a sword, point facing up, while simultaneously bringing down the right dagger like a bird of prey’s claws. Properly executed, the force of any dagger attack could pierce even chainmail, while he could protect himself with his left hand.