Passage to Glory: Part Two of the Redemption Cycle

by J. R. Lawrence

  He hurried up beside her, leather boots making hardly a sound as they patted against the stones underfoot. She was standing erect and still while looking down into the blackness, lips moving but no sound leaving them. Skandil watched her for a time, reading the silent words as they slowly began to come into his own mind, and he turned to follow her gaze into the blackness beneath.

  We find nothing in these passages but continued passages. The path goes on and on; rounding round and round as if encircling the sphere of our ancient glories, and we follow them but find naught of them. It is beginning to become clear that these empty and endless passages are mere signs of what we have become.

  And so it was that below the two youthful Followers, about one hundred or so feet down, was a bridge extending across the breadth of the emptiness. And suddenly, as if appearing out of the blackness itself, a single pillar of stalactite reached downward out of the infrared spectrum just beside the bridge. Looking upward, the two Followers saw that it vanished into that darkness looming overhead.

  “I can’t believe it,” Shela gasped, looking back down at the bridge. “I’ve actually found it. This will answer the deepest and most profound questions, as it is the soul of what our ancestors based their deepest philosophical essays on in order for us to begin to understand our predicament centauries from then.”

  When she turned to look at Skandil, she met his confused and utterly lost stare; but her excitement would not allow his beleaguered expression to distract her, and she quickly pointed out her meanings in the darkness.

  “That bridge,” she said in a hurried voice, “is what all those ancient manuscripts go on and on about for pages of what seems like pointless literature. But in reality it’s that much more important to understand.”

  “But I’ve never heard any mention of a bridge in this area before,” said Skandil. “Where does it go, and where has it come from?”

  “Look!” she cried in a harsh whisper, dropping to a low crouch on the edge of the precipice overlooking the strange bridge. She pointed down at the far end of the bridge where a humanoid figure stepped across the shadows in the distant spectrum.

  Skandil got down next to her, watching with an air of fear and anticipation as Shela seemed to grin with excitement. He didn’t understand what she found so splendid about the bridge. To him it was a curious piece to the many oddities of the Shadow Realms, and if anything it was an alarming sight in such places so near his homeland. The figure now walking across its length – whatever creature it may have been – filled him with a sense of dread and warning.

  Flee you foolish fool! Get out of there, now! But he could not get himself to stand or even look away. It was all so dreadfully fascinating.

  “What is it?” Skandil’s whisper was hardly audible in the silenced hush of that empty place.

  Shela’s smile seemed to widen at that question. “It is the demon of just fulfillment – or fulfillment for that matter. This is the passage through the Shadow Realms. He is taking it to fulfill some purpose, I know not.”

  7

  Master of the Elements

  A steady stream of water passed gently between the smooth crevices between the stones, echoing from one stone wall and ceiling to the next, the entire cavern filled with the song of splashing water. Bioluminescent plants glowed near the base of the stream, giving a gentle blue and green light to the caverns and tunnels that the stream passed through, and also a source of fibrous food for those able or daring enough to taste its leafy vines. The sight of the glowing rivers and pools might at once seem a beautiful sight to those unaccustomed to the nature of the underworld, while to those bred in the darkness of these caves know to keep an extra cautious eye for the various monsters lurking in the darkness of the lighted passages, waiting for the light and the vegetation to attract their food.

  Juanna was skilled enough, in her wisdom, to know of the dangers of nearly every passage that the underworld offered to her and her patrolling troops. She was of the Grundagg Branch of the Urden’Dagg Tree, therefore her prowess in melee fighting was a great exception among The Followers of her estate; and so she dedicated her time and efforts into leading patrols throughout the passages linking her homeland with that of other strange and somewhat unexplored areas. Years of strict training allied her senses into the keen understanding of all that transpired around her, and so as she closed her eyes and inhaled the deep scent of water, and the life glowing beneath its glassy surface, she could almost see without looking.

  “Captain,” an inquiring voice asked from beside her. A male Follower, listed among the officers of her patrol as Fustua, stood at her side. “Captain, we mustn’t stand too long in one place. You know the protocol of patrol. We must keep moving else we fall behind schedule.”

  “Have patience,” Juanna replied, the toes of her boots nearly dipping into the glowing stream. “We will return on our appointed time as soon as the passage is secure. Now have patience and listen. You can see far more without your eyes to distract you.”

  Fustua straightened and inhaled as she had done, closing his eyes to their surroundings. He had gone through this lesson time and time again with his calm captain, and so he already knew the importance of listening when in search for a supposed danger. Although Juanna might seem calm on the outside through her words and teachings, it is easy to mistake a peacefully quiet cavern with a deadly silence. Inside her warrior spirit a storm raged. Fustua knew this, for he had felt its presence when in combat beside her, and also when she gave such peaceful lessons he knew they were as much for him to learn from as herself.

  They stood to the side of a narrow passageway, the stream flowing steadily at their feet, their backs to the tunnel that would lead them back into the Grundagg complex. The stream was five or so feet wide, though its depths nearly doubled that estimation and the illuminating light radiating from the plants lit the crevices walls and the faces of the two Followers standing beside it. No stalagmite or stalactite clung in this strangely beautiful place.

  Fustua’s eyes opened when he felt the quiet echo of a sword drawn from its scabbard, and turning his head he saw Juanna lowering her curved blade to her side, the tip of the adamant weapon reflecting the light of the bioluminescent plants against the walls of the cavern in a splendid show of colors. He would have disregarded the fact that his captain had drawn her weapon, being so distracted by the show of green and blue that the sword displayed, had it not been for the sudden chill unlike the normal warmth of such underground places.

  He shivered reflexively.

  It will never be known for certain whether the change in that caverns temperature was triggered by the simple feeling of exposure to danger, or if the danger itself somehow altered it for its own purpose. Master Elements have been known for such abnormal abilities. The monstrous element twisted from its place in the wall directly across the stream from the pair of Followers, and without warning it slammed a tremendous bolt of air into their faces, throwing them from their feet into the passage. The Master Element warped for a brief moment to reveal two gemstones that glowed with a pale hue, shaped like large triangles floating amidst its misty form.

  The moment Juanna hit the ground she was rolling backwards in an attempt to recover her footing in the passage, while in front of her Fustua collapsed with a fit of coughs in an attempt to clear his lunges from the intake of that powerful blast of crisp air. She recovered quickly, having sensed the presence of something in that particular cavern, though a Master Element was far from what she had anticipated, and she climbed to her feet with blade still in hand. The monstrosity would attack again, however this time she would be ready for whatever element it bent to use against them.

  Fustua lay on his face, wheezing in an exhausted stupor, and so Juanna hardly hesitated charging to put her between the element and Fustua’s helpless body before it could strike again. She covered the distance she had lost from her companion quicker than the element could recharge its energy for anther strike, the gemstones in its ce
nter glowing white as it gathered in the forces surrounding it.

  Juanna leapt over Fustua, drawing from her duel scabbard her second scimitar, though before she landed the elements energy had returned tenfold. It twisted in the air, misty form solidifying into shape, and landed in the glowing stream with a splash. Juanna slid to a stop a foot or two from the edge of the glowing water, her eyes narrowly fixed on the rushing surface of that liquid, waiting for the chosen form of the Master Element to resurface.

  The water swirled inward, pulled toward some glowing source in the midst of the current, and it exploded outward toward Juanna as the monster returned to finish its fight against The Follower. She, however, was not expecting the blast of water that was sent into her face, and so stumbled and slipped onto her back.

  Onto the banks of the stream stepped a form hardening from dripping water, pale mist billowing from within its shell behind its turtle-like head, two sets of eyes burning with a white flame as it looked upon the two stunned Followers. It stood over six feet in height, thick arms and legs armored by various rock elements, and as its jaw opened it spewed forth a cloud of pale mist through teeth of jagged crystals.

  The Master Element had taken its proper shape to walk among the inhabitants of the shadow realm, in its chest burning the two gemstones in their pale hue, its ultimate source of power. Its claws flexed in its prepared work of destruction, and its eyes unblinking as it stared upon those it would begin first upon. However, Fustua regained his breath before the Master Element could come upon his captain, and rolling onto his knees he unbuckled his shield from off his back as he saw the Master Element raise a clawed hand encircled by mist over Juanna. The Follower moved quickly – far quicker than the Master Element could have guessed – and he threw himself forward against Juanna with his round shield over them, the defensible weapon stopping a thrusting blade that pierced from the collecting mist in the Master Elements hand.

  The thick blade condescending from mist would have severed straight through the shield into them had Fustua not whipped it aside, tearing the weapon from the grip of the monster to disperse back into mist. He punched forward with a dagger, shoving the lean blade directly into the aligned gemstones on its front and back, severing its source of life.

  The Master Element shrieked as the gemstones exploded behind the hit, mist pouring from cracks ripping apart its shell and body as the power within its source of life was released all at once, its eyes burning bright. Its mouth widened as its scream continued, and as Fustua’s arm persisted in its forward thrust, the monster exploded.

  8

  A Pledge Fulfilled

  Gefiny stormed out of the throne room, throwing open the door into the anteroom and startling the guard into an upright position. Tears were in her eyes as she crossed the chamber and into the passage beyond, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand while trying to hold back the sobs. It had struck her as expected the moment Dril’ead left the citadel of their family, and to cry so before her sentries would have been most shameful and humiliating; so she fled into her chamber as quick as she could and fell upon her bed. Dril’ead, for all she knew, was going away to his death. The inhabitants of the city knew just as well as she.

  One would have thought that the position of Vulzdagg was at last crumbling. The foundations set by Vishtax long ago were slowly being dissolved by the fears and the doubts of his children and grandchildren, however true they may have been. The moment Vaknorbond had resigned from the lordship of his city, for whatever purpose and reason he had done so, the cracks had begun. Or was it from the beginning the sickening pride and foolish traditions of Vishtax himself? It seemed that the people of Vulzdagg would never know. Their city would crumble beneath their feet, and their cries unto the Urden’Dagg would be lost in a clamor of justice now raised by the hands of the Swildagg aristocracy, and whoever else dared to join in their cause.

  “Father you were right,” Gefiny cried into her pillow. “How foolish we all are, you were right. But why have you left us to watch our own destruction fall? How could you have abandoned us to this doom? The curse of Maaha is yet to be fulfilled.”

  She paused and listened as the sound of thumping feet echoed through the passage behind her closed door, and turning she looked upon the orange glow of torches passing behind it. “Or has it already begun, at this moment, while we are all struck dumb with stupefaction? Oh father, where have you gone?”

  The groan of a door being opened arose in the passage outside, and a shout as of someone calling to another followed soon after, though no response was heard. Then someone stepped up to Gefiny’s door and laid several swift beats against its stone frame, and Gefiny found that she had no other choice but to answer the beckoning call of her people outside; after all having made a promise to Dril’ead that she would see that his people were protected and watched over while he was away. And to Gefiny, and perhaps others out in the world beyond, a dying promise was an eternal one.

  She arose from her bed, wiping the tears from her eyes as she walked to the door, and taking its edge with trembling fingers she pulled it open. Razarr, chief captain of the Vulzdagg city militia, stood before her with a stern expression.

  “My lady,” he began quickly, stooping into a bow. He seemed to hesitate at her sorrowful expression. “Something dreadful has happened. It appears that out scouts discovered a familiar weapon on the borders of Swildagg.” He lifted an object for her to see, though Gefiny didn’t need to see the scimitar of Dril’ead to know the awful news that was to follow.

  “My lady,” Razarr continued, his expression softening, “We can only assume our dear lord, Dril’ead Vulzdagg, has perished. Though, by whose hand we cannot say for certain.”

  “I think it is quite obvious,” Gefiny replied evenly, suddenly taking on a solemn face. “Lord Nel’ead Swildagg came to us the day before yesterday, as all of you should by now know, and threatened and mocked our noble rule over these people. My brother, lord Dril’ead, left to seek the truth from our neighboring Branch . . .” she looked down at her brother’s sword in Razarr’s hand. “It appears he found it.”

  “My lady,” Razarr stammered, “What you are saying could undermine us before the watchful eyes of the all great and powerful Urden’Dagg. You must be wary of your own words and actions, taking great care not to throw down your own footstool.”

  “One cannot throw down that which has already been broken,” she replied, looking the captain squarely in the eyes. Her own eyes, now swollen and red from weeping, seemed to emanate a power despite the weight she obviously bore. “Maaha Zurdagg struck us where we were most weak, and though we have somewhat recovered our strength, Swildagg strikes from a different angle. Our place among the respectful lines of the Branches of the Urden’Dagg Tree has been shook one too many times, threats causing us to take actions which have unavoidably broke the bonds of justice in our case. However, the bonds of brotherhood have been sewn by the bloodied hand of our fallen lord, Dril’ead Vulzdagg.

  “I must say you are right,” she continued, stifling an outburst of tears, “Dril’ead has been slain at last, though my promise to him is not yet fulfilled. Not until the doom of these people has at last come, their fate long awaiting them finally makes its move, and every last one of them rises to fight that battle of which they were thus born to end upon has destroyed all that he rose to stand for. I tell you this now, Razarr of Vulzdagg, I will not yield this kingdom unto the hands of any tyrant; but shall rather fall, like my brother, defending the gates of my city.”

  The power in the eyes of Gefiny was suddenly let loose, striking the chief captain of Vulzdagg where he stood before her, and he slowly passed the scimitar of Dril’ead into the hands of Gefiny with a tear in his eye. She couldn’t have said anything truer than what she had spoken concerning the bonds of brotherhood Dril’ead had formed among his people; for even as his fate had been discovered, the soldiers of Vulzdagg were called to assemble before the doors of the citadel for a moment of recognition.
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  Razarr told Gefiny of the people’s response to their lord’s death, reminding her of the strength he had given them by his brave actions in the past. “I loved your brother like a soldier loves his captain, a son loves his father, and a brother loves his brother. I, and all these people of the Branch of Vulzdagg, would have followed him to that end of which they were born to see. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that he meant to lift us up unto glory at that end, his commanding voice the very sound of glory itself. However, it now seems that his end was intended before such a time was to come, though he has not left us leaderless as he never would have done.”

  Razarr took Gefiny by her shoulders, his face broadening with an inner strength long held in check. “I, and all these people of the Vulzdagg Branch, will follow you to the end. Undoubtedly the very glories of which I speak are at your disposal.”

  Gefiny straightened under his gentle hold, the love Dril’ead had granted them passing between their eyes, and she carefully smiled. “I knew my brother trained the greatest soldiers this realm will ever see. I do not think the honor is yet mine to command such people as these, though I must hold to my pledge to a now lost friend, and guide them as he had guided them. Though, I do not know the way.” She paused, allowing her words to linger in the air for a moment before continuing. “If it is possible, I would like to speak to the people.”

  Razarr bowed, stepping back into the passage. “It would be our pleasure to hear from you.”

  And so Razarr lead Gefiny through the empty throne room and out the doors of the citadel to where the people stood facing them, hands clasped before them and weapons strapped to leather belts at their sides. Even the students, the children Dril’ead had trained and mentored before his death, stood among them with solemn faces. The blind Nelastro, the apprentice Dril’ead never got to teach, stood somewhere in the center of the gathering of Vulzdagg, eyes shut and head bowed in reverence. Though they may have appeared similar to all other people of that world, it was a certainty they had all gone through things that no words can explain. Gefiny almost felt ashamed to stand before such strong and enduring people, though an assuring glance from Razarr encouraged her to speak.