“Has it always been my fight?” he asked simply.
The Entity inclined her head, ‘Just as I was always was meant to come to this place,” she explained. ‘Certain events had to happen for me to be able to join this group, Sage Ash joining was one of those, also there had to be certain outcomes after the Ritual of Making…’
“The pregnancies,” Alissa said quietly.
The Entity inclined her head again, ‘Along with the children you carry, each of you women additionally carry part of the forest node energies within you. It came part of you during the Ritual of Making. I need the presence of those energies in order to travel so far from my node.’
“What about the Rite of Reinforcing?” asked Aran.
The Entity shook her head, and motioned towards the Warleader caught in the vortices of air, ‘You all would have needed to act as she did to permanently capture nodal energies. In the Rite of Reinforcing your mage Abilities were increased and nothing else.’
“So what can I do?” asked Aran, “She is now more than human and I… I am just a man.”
‘Do not forget that you are a Warriormage,’ she reminded him archly, ‘And that you carry a weapon crafted for your hand alone. You are strong too, however it remains to be seen if you are strong enough to defeat this woman.’
She paused and saw the indecision in his face.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.
“That she is my cousin…”
‘You believe her?’
He nodded, “There are similarities,” he replied not elaborating.
‘Then do not think on it,’ she advised solemnly, ‘Else we shall all be lost and the fallen dead would have died for nothing.’
“How will I reach her?” he asked finally, “She floats about up there and my sword could never reach her…”
‘You will…’ she replied enigmatically.
Aran turned to Alissa, his face grey with dread, “Well I guess this is what I’ve walked weeks to come and do.”
Tears streaming down her face, Alissa kissed him hard, “The Goddess and Andur protect you my love…”
*
Aran had never felt more alone in his life.
Despite the presence of his friends and companions by the far wall, Aran knew that he was in this situation alone. He closed his eyes and tried to reach the always constant rage, but even that had cooled, finally and utterly quenched by cold fear. Carefully he unsheathed the King’s Sword, his blistered hands throbbing with the pain of holding the weapon. Iridescent light flowed from the blade to drop, and splash upon the cold stone ground, there to freeze into pools of luminescent darkness. He shrugged off the heavy fur cloak, letting it slip and fall from his shoulders. It lay on the ground like the freshly skinned pelt of some large animal. The cold light dripping from the blade shone dimly across the rusted links of the mail hauberk he wore. The rest of his armour was days away…secreted carefully in the last cache made when the final horse had died. He looked up to see the pale naked form of the Warleader… his cousin… Immediately he brushed that thought away.
“So you have come to kill me kinsman,” Se-Taanata murmured, positioning herself safely out of reach of the deadly-looking sword. “That…thing…over there has commanded you to, and like her lackey you jump to it,” she mocked.
“No one has commanded me to do anything,” he replied irritated, “This is exactly where I want to be.”
“Is it?” she asked quietly, “The Hidden Ones tell me otherwise. They know all about you kinsman.” She smiled, “They know of your fears and doubts, and they have told me that the mages have been instrumental in sending you here…” She paused as if listening, “They give me the name Maran…a relative of ours I understand. You and he don’t get on…”
“This is my destiny,” he insisted coldly, the point of the sword rising with each step he took.
“Your destiny is to die?” she asked incredulously.
“We all die eventually,” Aran grated.
“Not I!” she cried triumphantly, “My dark gods have offered me eternal life. Already I am sustained by this place…I cannot remember the last time I needed sustenance…” She laughed contemptuously, “Do you think your little ability will be able to destroy me whilst I am here. You have been ill-advised kinsman…”
“You think so?” he replied coldly, pausing at the edge of the node, “If it is true, then I shall die…however I will kill you first,” he added bluntly. Grasping the sword’s hilt tightly in his blistered hand he braced himself and stepped into the node. Immediately the flows of air moved about him, hindering his steps and giving him the impression that he was walking through heavy treacle. His arms too felt like lead, and it soon became a supreme effort of will to hold onto the sword and not let it drop to the ground. Before he had made but a half dozen steps into the node, he could go no further, his limbs held as securely as if he were encased in rock. The luminescence from the sword flickered, and then suddenly faded, and Aran was left in a grey darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow that emanated from the Warleader.
“Give up kinsman” she whispered, “Despite your ability your strength is mortal. If I wished I could entrap you there for a millennium.” She gently tightened the flows of air around his throat and chest, “Or if I wished I could kill you now; squeeze the life from you as I took the life of yon soldier.”
“Why don’t you,” he gasped out, his lungs burning with the effort to speak and breathe.
“Because you amuse me kinsman,” she laughed, “Both my dark gods and I have a desire to taste your essence…it should be sweet indeed.” She flicked her finger and suddenly Aran felt the flows of air twist and knot around his body, lifting him suddenly into the air. Behind him he faintly heard the cries of horror from his friends and companions.
“Ahhh…” she breathed as the flows and vortices brought Aran closer, “You are a handsome one…this will be a pleasure indeed.” Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips, “I almost regret your imminent death. You could indeed provide me with hours of amusement.”
“You are insane,” Aran whispered hoarsely.
“Am I?” she asked, as she reached out one hand to gently touch Aran’s face, “I know what I want, and I know how to get it…does that make me insane, kinsman?”
Aran closed his eyes, and desperately sought for his magepower but every time he reached for it, it drifted away insubstantial. Desperately he twisted in the cords of air that bound him; however, the effort was futile, the vortices only tightened with each movement. Brazenly Se-Taanata moved fully up against him. Wantonly her hands moved across his body. Against his will his body began to react, respond to her urgent demands.
“No…” he groaned, “I…will…not…yield…”
His face contorting with effort he reached again for his ebbing magepower, as he tried in desperation to recapture the fury of the Warriormage Ability. Despairingly, he strained deep within himself for the almost forgotten link with the power of the sword. For a moment he almost found it, almost reached it…
“I don’t think so,” she whispered against his throat, her hands and body moving lustfully against his, “This time I want no interruptions…”
To his horror Aran could feel his strength dwindling, as she immediately moved to severe his link with the slowly budding magepower…
“No!”
An involuntary, yet animal-like howl burst from Aran’s throat, as deep within himself the imprisoned rage finally exploded out from the restraining walls; with the magecrafted sword providing a conduit to the nodal earthpower, his magepower burst the encircling cords of air, dropping him heavily to the ground below. Winded from the fall, he blindly searched for and finally found the King’s Sword which had rolled, clattering free of his grasp.
“Bitch!” he howled, his lungs burning whilst clambering to his feet, “You thought to overcome me…”
Instantly the chamber was alight, as living fire burst from the sword’s cold blade.
>
“Whore!” he shouted; his mind white with cold fury “I dare you to take me now.”
He swung the sword, and the fabric of air tore and crackled with its passing.
“See now who was ill-advised!” he raged angrily, his mind now wholly consumed by the Warriormage fury.
“I am guarded still,” Se-Taanata hissed as she quickly wove vortices of protection with her hands, “Rage all you like little mage, you cannot reach me here.”
“You think so?” Aran laughed coldly, “Perhaps your dark gods have failed to tell you that a Warriormage’s reach can be very long indeed!”
Immediately he spun, his sword and mind linked in power, slashing the cords of air that the Warleader had constructed about her, sending her tumbling to the ground below. For a moment she lay there stunned then scrambling to her feet hissed.
“Bastard! You will pay for that indignity.”
Her face twisting with malice, and hissing and spitting like an enraged cat, she drew the node’s powers into herself and with a howl sent crashing streams of air and power against him. Aran turned, and remembering the blocks that had been taught to him back at Andur’s Keep, twisted the blade of the sword and cut the air into impotent tendrils that curled and writhed away.
“Is that the best you can do?” he laughed coldly.
She screamed obscenities at that, summoning the primal and bestial powers of the dark gods to aid her.
Aran walked angrily towards the howling woman, each sword stroke of his sending rivers of white fire through the hissing and burning air. Suddenly he stopped. He had been halfway through one stroke when he saw something that gave him immediate pause. Looking down upon the hilt of the sword, he noticed that his burnt and blistered hands were now completely Healed. In disbelief, he stared at the new skin whilst all the time turning his hand over and over as if he doubted the evidence of his own eyes. Pushing the burning rage to the back of his mind, he held out his hand to push at and construct his own flows of air, each pale tendril and vortex moving and twisting at his unspoken demands. Disbelieving, he watched as his hand suddenly grew feathers, fur, then scales, then with a shake of his head, turn back to ordinary human flesh again. He stood for a long moment trying to understand what was happening, and then finally he turned to stare at the green-clad Entity, mute questions in his eyes. The Entity inclined her head, silently answering him. Almost immediately a pale form seemed to condense in the air between them, a form that soon took the shape and features of the long dead Warleader Andur.
‘So now you know,’ Andur stated softly.
“What am I?” asked Aran softly.
‘All mages,’ replied the older man, ‘As I tried to, but never could be.’
‘How?’ asked Aran.
‘The sword,’ explained Andur, ‘It links you to the earthpower. Here it flows strongest, you just had to be able to break free and grasp it…’
“And if I hadn’t…?”
‘Best not to ask,’ replied Andur without humour.
Aran glanced back towards Se-Taanata as she crouched moaning and howling, caught entirely in the unholy possession of the dark gods, “So what do I do about her?” he asked simply.
‘I think you know,’ Andur replied dryly, ‘But you will need my help…’
Aran nodded, “I had guessed as much. Whilst she is possessed I can match but never overcome her.”
Andur walked forward, the pale echo of the King’s Sword gripped firmly in his mailed hand.
‘This will not hurt,’ Andur reassured him, ‘For a brief time only we shall become as one…’
Aran closed his eyes as the shade of the ancient High King moved silently into his body. The transit of the possession was brief and felt, surprisingly, as if he had been lightly Scanned. Andur turned, and Aran turned with him, mind and body linked to his long-dead ancestor. Immediately he was awash with ancient memories of the Great Uprising, sharing experiences of war and fighting he had physically never known.
‘Come’, said Andur from deep within his mind, ‘I can hold this link for a short time only…we both have a job to do…’ Aran nodded and lifting the flaring sword, stepped deeper into the node.
*
Se-Taanata was now crouched on the ground, her voice raw from the constant screaming, her hair falling about her face, half-hiding her crazed eyes. Although the dark gods gave her greater power, the thin veneer of her self-control faded as the primal desires and emotions of the Hidden Ones overwhelmed her. When at last her screaming was reduced to a low whisper, she fell silent, the only sound left being the echoes of her screams within the chamber. Warily she watched her kinsman step closer, the glimmering shade of her hated enemy Andur moving with him. As he advanced, she hastily flung up barriers of light and air, whilst hoarsely muttering to the dark gods to lend her aid. However, strengthened by Andur’s presence and Andur’s power, Aran spoke a single word in his mind, and with a gesture sundered the flows of air protecting her. Se-Taanata slumped back upon the ground, the glow fading from her to reveal a woman rapidly ageing, as the node’s power diminished within her. Even now the dark shadows held their ground within her, however as Aran moved closer and pressed the point of his blade to her chest, they too fled whispering from her pale body, to vanish into the darkness beyond.
“Grant me pity…” she cried aloud as the blade began to sear and tear into her skin. Aran/Andur shook their heads, and with their strength combined, pushed the brilliantly radiant blade down hard into her body. She shrieked now in unbearable pain as her skin and form blackened and burned. Tendrils of smoke curled about the blade, and then her scream stopped abruptly as life faded from her body, until all that was left of her was gently falling dust, and the fading, mocking echoes of her scream.
*
Chapter 10—The Cleansing
Aran slumped to the ground, his sword falling from his nerveless fingers to clatter on the rock floor. Beneath him, the dust that had once been his enemy was picked up by fretful gusts of power, and scattered away. The air remained still and the darkness beyond, watchful and waiting. Finally, Aran straightened, and with effort, clambered to his feet and with that movement felt the presence of Warleader Andur fade from his mind and body.
‘Well done leader-male,’ said a quiet voice by his side.
Aran exhaustedly looked around to encounter the bright blue eyes of the Entity.
“Is it over?” he asked wearily.
She inclined her head, ‘Your part is done…the rest is up to the young Sage and I.’
“What happens now?” he asked heavily.
‘The node must be cleansed,’ the Entity replied, ‘For a great evil has been allowed to fester here, and it has contaminated the earthpower in this node.’
She smiled gently, ‘It is a great task, but the young Sage and I are up to it.’
“Will you die?” whispered Aran.
The Entity laughed wryly, ‘For such as I there is no death. For as long as there are humans to give me consciousness I will survive…’
“And Sage Ash?” asked Aran.
‘He will physically die,’ confirmed the Entity, ‘However, his essence too will survive within the energies of the node.’
She shook her head at his askance look, ‘Right from the very beginning Sage Ash subconsciously knew that he had come here to die. As the Warleader had offered herself to those ancient evil shadows, for his part Ash knew that a willing sacrifice was also needed. He is to be a special sacrifice of someone who was especially Attuned¬—someone who with his death would cleanse the node of all darkness and evil…an EarthSage.’
“I heard you say that you would protect him?” Aran asked softly, “If he is to die, how then shall he be protected.”
‘The Hidden Ones are still here,’ replied the Entity quietly, ‘For the moment they hold back, fearful of my power, but soon they will become emboldened, and strike at whoever stands within the node. In order to cleanse it, the EarthSage must meld with the node, and during that time he must
be protected else those shadows will possess him as surely as that woman was once possessed.’
She paused to survey the hovering darkness, ‘Until the EarthSage melds, I will battle these dark shadows and if needs be, banish them, for they are alien and not of this world.’ She smiled, ‘I would not linger…this place will soon no longer be safe.’
Aran glanced across at Sage Ash. The young man nodded back at him, his face calm and accepting of his fate.
“Do not worry about me,” he reassured Aran, “Just get word to my wife of what I had to do, the importance of my death.”
Aran nodded back, a promise written in every line of his face. “Then the rest of us must leave,” Aran said finally, “Although it will be a long and perilous road back.”
‘There is a shorter route,’ replied the Entity, ‘Your sister knows the way…’
Aran frowned, “Sarana?”
‘Ask…’ the Entity whispered cryptically.
Aran glanced to where Uhmar’s body lay cold and forgotten on the node, “He ought to have proper burial” he said sadly.
‘I will look after him,’ the Entity said reassuringly.
Suddenly she turned and gestured urgently to the young Sage to join her.
‘Go! Hurry now,’ she urged Aran, ‘But do not worry, you will find all fit to leave…’
The others had moved away from the wall, the uninjured supporting the sagging figures of the Weathermages, Guardsman Kunek and the Thakurian Scout. Immediately Aran went to Alissa and enfolded her in his arms, hugging her trembling body close. After a short moment he pulled away and turned to the others.
“We can spare no more time here…the Entity has urged us to leave. It will not be safe for us to remain.”
Drayden glanced wearily back at the route they had come, “It will be a long road home.”
Aran shook his head, “There is a shorter way…I’m supposed to ask Sarana.”
“Your dead sister?” queried Darven, “How can she help?”
Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Page 26
