A Twist of the Tale

by P R Glazier

  Chapter 43. Reunited

  Neth’Gore allowed his conscious self to return to his surroundings, the noise of battle once more deafened his ears, he saw his friend Orln with strung bow standing before him in defensive pose. Just as it had many times before the rangers training had taken over, Thor stood also to protect him with his sword, Neth’Gore knew he was safely guarded as long as these two remained alive. So he returned his conscious spirit to the connection with Deanola. “But you are dead, I heard the story, you fell into the Rift, it would have consumed you, no living mage would have the capacity to resist such a concentration of energy.”

  The presence saddened, he felt an inward sigh, he saw briefly a room in a hut, a large hearth burned in the centre, a metal cauldron hung on a greasy chain above the open flames. He tasted the broth that he knew bubbled within, it had been a favourite of his, he saw the smooth white skin beneath the animal skins, the long waist length dark hair, the sleeping form beneath his fingers caress. But that was a long time ago now. He had joked that the only payment for his teaching would be the recipe for that broth, but the real payment was a mutual promise far greater, a life’s happiness and companionship. But it was not to be, his commander had gone mad, turned into something evil. He had gone to help those that remained unsullied, to rescue his friends, to try and help sort out the mess that now polluted the minds of his comrades. The presence lightened, it smiled. He saw that girlish smile once more, the young human female face, not more than eighteen years of age she was then, the unkempt thick hair, the tattooing upon her shoulders and back and further down the deep scars in the young skin. Her people had systematically marked her for what she was and whipped her, treated her as outcast, something to be feared, something to loath, something less than human. He remembered her eyes, partly blue in blue, fiery and piercing with an inner anger and a defiance that belied her shortness of years, yet still they did not wholly exhibit the mark of the arcane. He felt a mixed emotion; he had loved that young girl. He still felt a great love, he let that emotion sail forth. What he got back was a burst of love. How she had the love to return after all that she had gone through was still beyond him.

  He smiled; it felt good to bathe in that emotion. “Speak my student, but be swift.” 

  “I will, but better still see what my eyes have seen, see my memory, I will allow it.”

  Neth’Gore raised the level of the connection between them, he felt the familiar, refreshing presence of the female mind of Deanola, he smiled inwardly as he remembered suddenly that which he had forgotten, times gone by when he was training her, he still marvelled at her innate skill. He found his vision blur and he felt the Rift, he felt its overwhelming power, it made him gasp, he almost severed the connection accidentally as he faltered, but then he realised that it was not him that weakened the connection, it was the failure of the arcane energy that kept the link open. The Rift he could no longer feel it. The Rift had been closed. He then viewed another place. There was a trained healer; she stooped over a T’Iea girl. He knew this girl to be a T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran, yet not. The Rifts signature was there but it was weakening, waning as a memory. He could sense the pity the love that emanated from the healer; it was directed at the girl who was almost immobilised with fear and pain. But almost immediately these things left her and the she changed. She became like them, she had lost the hate within, the signature of all T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran. She had been cured, yes cured!

  Neth’Gore mentally nodded at Deanola expressing his understanding, he probed for the Rift entity, the presence he had let in, the presence that had given him so much intoxicating power and he had used this to destroy the last of the Startmektoken. He winced as once more the assault of energy came. “My student, the Rift it is emptying, destroyed even, but something else remains, some driven intellect that is able to wield great power. The T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran are not free, The Rift is diminishing as you say but something still holds sway, still controls them!”

  He felt the shock of disbelief, the despair flow in waves into his mind. Then heard a few words in his head, “Master.  Please save them, save them all.”

  Neth’Gore wanted to know more; he wanted to know what had happened, what they had done wherever they were. He wanted to know what had befallen his student since they last had met. Yet he perceived the anxiety that lay within Deanola, the need to delay no further, things needed to be done and soon, the sooner, thus to save more of them. But he did not want to leave her, for it occurred to him that this may have been his last chance to speak with his love, but he also knew there was no time for sentiment. He severed the connection, he came back. The battle raged, the two opposing forces had met at last, he felt despair, regret, a deepening feeling of great disappointment that his people should be fighting each other. The waste of it, the madness that it had come to this. But hope sprang within him, a fools hope perhaps, but it was his task, his and only his to put an end to the insanity. But there to his utter horror, his former brethren fought the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran, only they weren’t T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran any longer they were now also his brethren. He stood in horror, horror at the cries of pain and death. The T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran army had fallen back, they were in obvious confusion, the soldiers to the rear held their heads, some sat upon the ground their weapons discarded. But a battle still raged. In front of him many fought, T’Iea lay dying in the trampled heather, but also others, Goblin men. He felt shocked. He shouted for everything to stop. No one heard. They could not, the noise of battle was louder than anything and took over the mind, closed the ears to all else. His gaze swung around the battlefield, he sought a way to stop this, but how? Thousands fought against one another. Then he saw something there to his right, the T’Iea commander Te’Onolan’u’De’Hu’uinned was shouting orders, spurring his soldiers on, spurring them on to massacre the army that comprised of deserters from his own ranks, but not only those hated deserters but also the despised goblins. 

  It occurred to Neth’Gore that the madness of his race had now switched sides, who were the evil ones now? Who of his race held such a deep malice within their hearts now?

  He had to do something, he had to save them, he now fully understood Deanola’s words, save them all. Both sides now needed his help, but neither side was going to listen for different reasons. He knew what he had to do, but it would take an immense amount of energy to do so, his own reserves where low, he could not stand another sap of energy; he would use it all and die. He knew his masters had warned against maintaining one form of energy whilst at the same time trying to create and maintain others. One form at a time they had warned, more and the amount of energy required would halve the reserves of the mage exponentially. But he knew the Rift entity could provide it and he knew why it would be willing to do so. He faltered, then he did something he had not done for an age, something he felt he would not do ever again, for circumstances had persuaded him that the one who could help had deserted them long ago. He prayed, he prayed to the Maker, to the Master of all for help, for strength, for steadfastness of mind and for forgiveness. He prayed for them. He prayed for them all. Then it was time, time to give, he only hoped it was enough for long enough. He opened his eyes and felt deep within himself, he pulled at the energy deep within the ground below his feet and raised his hands, he spoke, shouted words of arcane import, words that focussed his channelling and slowly drew his hand over his head.

  The Rift entity almost cried out in triumph, it allowed energy from the great stone block to flow forth and feed the T’Iea mage, he wanted it, the Rift entity gave it.

  Neth’Gore imagined a fence, a barrier; it was thin but strong, made of flame, bright red and orange, but cool. He opened it between a T’Iea soldier in dark armour that had raised his sword ready to strike another soldier that had the emblem of the legion upon his breast, the sword fell but it struck Neth’Gore’s barrier and the blade shattered like glass. Neth’Gore felt the blow, he reinforced the barrier, energy flowed through him l
ike a wave. The T’Iea that wielded the sword was flung backwards he fell heavily upon the ground a look of disbelief on his face. Neth’Gore returned his attention to what he must now do, he struggled but he began to stretch the barrier in both directions horizontally, slowly at first but then with an ever quickening pace, he felt the energy flow into him, he placed no constraints upon it and it filled him, but it was also draining from him like water flowing off his back as he drew himself up out of a lake, it was frightening how fast his reserves flowed from him. His mind began to feel stretched, his head started to hurt, his heart began to pound within his chest, the effort of creating flame with no heat, the energies were opposite, unnatural. He felt his being falter, he was afraid he had failed; his own energy reserves were gone. He now relied wholly upon the energy that was passing through him to survive. But then he felt strength once more, it flowed through him and around him, was it the Rift entity itself, had it gotten through his barriers after all? No, this was different; no malice was in this force. Suddenly he laughed for it intoxicated his very being. It filled him like he had walked from the mouth of a cave into bright sunlight. He felt more strength, more power than he had ever felt before, far more than even the Rift possessed, it was wonderful, it was astounding. The barrier expended rapidly. It grew and divided and saved. He was aware of a presence, something he had not felt before. He looked to his left, a being stood there, a being of light, the brightness was intense, he was forced to look away or be blinded. But the face of the figure was burnt into his retina, a female face, fair and smiling. He looked to his right, another stood there, equally as bright but this one was male, he nodded encouragingly to Neth’Gore.

  The Rift entity reeled back. Something else had struck it like a hammer blow, something it had not felt before. The energy it was allowing to flow into the T’Iea mage was being reflected back. Within milliseconds all of it was rejected, blasted back at the Rift entity. Safety measure it had put in place years before buckled under the stress and then parted like rivets snapping from a plate of stressed steel. If it could the Rift entity would have cried out in fear, it felt confusion; corruptions were entering its sub routines and shutting them down one after the other.

  Neth’Gore felt elated. The power flowed more freely and the barrier raced across the ground. It weaved in and out of the two armies separating them, Neth’Gore just stared, he no longer controlled the power that flowed through him, he no longer directed it, he was just a conduit for it to pass through, he smiled, he felt so alive, he laughed out loud, he had never felt anything like it before. Limitless power. Power that created the universe, no that was not it, before that, this was power that enabled the creation of the power and the laws that created the universe. This was something far more complex, far more interwoven with everything. He looked once more for the two figures, the female looked concerned she held his arm, the male one was smiling and bowing towards him, he went to bow back but pain shot through him, unbelievable pain, it felt like his chest had exploded. The female figure held his head gently, she hugged him close, whispered in his ear, but he could not understand the words she spoke, if they were words at all. Neth’Gore felt his heart spasm, no he didn’t feel, he saw. The pain he experienced was real but it didn’t hurt somehow at least not any longer. His arms and shoulders seemed unbelievably painful to look at but he didn’t feel it, his heart faltered once, twice and stopped, his eyes glazed over and he went limp. Neth’Gore felt free, the figures either side of him had changed they looked as normal as he, yet they weren’t T’Iea, or any other race he knew. They were now solid, as solid as he, but he looked down upon his own body lying there upon the heather. He smiled, for they smiled at him. He knew he had been saved. If they hadn’t come the Rift entity would have his soul by now, He nodded his thanks, they seemed to lift him gently, he rose, light as air, he needed little muscle power if any to raise his being. He had one wish, an overriding urge. He looked towards the female figure, she nodded encouragingly. He sort something, found it, felt the love that was there, relished the emotion. “Goodbye my student. My love.”

  He heard the words in response, words that faltered with tears and deep emotion. “Be at peace my master, be at peace. Wait for me. Look for my coming, for it will be soon enough.”

  The barrier continued to move snaking across the ground at great speed, whenever it touched a soldier of either side, he was flung to the ground. The barrier did not differentiate between T’Iea of either army or goblin or human. Soldiers looked side to side, they quickly learnt to move aside from the barrier. Soon the two forces were moving, backing away from each other, away from the passage of the flaming barrier. The army of Te’Onolan’u’De’Hu’uinned to one side of the barrier, the army of R’Thy’Uln to the other, beyond them the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran army in disarray. In some instances the two forces lost soldiers to the wrong side of the barrier as it spread. But at least the soldiers no longer fought, they just staggered back looking at the barrier as it made its way across the ground. 

  Both Thor and Orln knelt supporting Neth’Gore who had fallen to his knees, Orln ripped the helmet from Neth’Gore’s head, blood dribbled from his nostrils. Orln felt for a pulse that was not there, or if it was it was very weak. They lowered Neth’Gore to the ground upon the soft heather, his face was outlined with the purple flowers, the flowers caressed his ashen white cheeks as his dying eyes stared upwards to a blue sky, he held out a hand to Orln and grasped his forearm tightly, “forgive me my brother, I go now to rest, think ye not any less of me,” his voice sounded rasping, “go to them, stop them my brother for they no longer fight as enemies.”

  The ranger grabbed him and hugged him. Thor rested a hand upon Orln’s shoulder. Orln lowered Neth’Gore’s body gently to the ground.

  A tear slid down Orln’s cheek. It landed on the heather next to the body of his friend.