by Adrian Cole
He drifted down, away from the astral travellers, who had spread themselves through the great hall, either singly or in small groups. All quaffed whatever brew they had been served, or inhaled the fumes from the red bowls that had been placed before them on scarred wooden tables. In one corner, near a fireplace, a huge shadow loomed, now and then emitting a stream of curses, boomed in a voice that would have cracked stone. Elfloq shuddered, making a mental note to keep well away from the lone figure.
Against one of the walls was a counter, and Elfloq walked over to it, he hoped inconspicuously. He was wondering if he would find any clues to the whereabouts of the dark man.
Someone unseen coughed discreetly, moving out of shadow like a cat and looked over the counter and down at Elfloq. He had a scarlet patch over one eye and a mouth that had moulded itself into a perpetual, enigmatic smile. “Greetings, little familiar. I am your host, Eye Patch of the Smile. What magician’s task brings you to Cloudway’s haven?”
Elfloq recovered his jerking wits and cleared his throat. “Uh—chance brought me here. I have heard, though, that Cloudway offers rest to the needy.”
“Certainly! Yet I would have thought that a familiar such as you would have had no time to dally here. Your master must be lax indeed to allow you such temporal latitude.”
Elfloq followed the rhetorical words with a scowl. “If you must know, I find myself—temporarily—without a master.”
“I see! Perhaps you are en route to a new one?”
Elfloq’s scowl deepened, emphasising his ugliness. “That is so.”
“Then you shall have whatever refreshment you require. Food? A drink? Something more potent? We always have a goodly supply of dream powders. Why, but a short time since we were visited by the noted apothecary, Tygo of Ptolemidyne, whose potent herbs are famed throughout the many dimensions of Phaedrabile—and doubtless others soon. Tygo left us many of his powders in appreciation of his brief stay.”
Elfloq mumbled disapproval. “Food will suffice, and a place to sleep.”
“For as long as it pleases you—or your new master.” Eye Patch winked roguishly as he left to prepare the promised repast, which only served to underline the familiar’s nervousness. Even here, at this sanctuary, it was better not to be known as a creature with no master.
While Elfloq waited, a door somewhere banged open, and a keening wind whipped into the hall, stirring the spirals of smoke and roaring angrily before being choked off by the closing of the unseen portal once more. From the darkness at the rim of the hall there now came a hunched figure, cloaked in dismal, smeared raiment, his eyes haunted, his face haggard. He balled his fists and knuckled them together in a perpetual motion of anxiety, constantly looking back over his shoulder as though an army of imps were about to leap upon him. Slumping at the counter beside Elfloq, he began banging upon the wood for attention. There was no response. No one in the hall spoke or rose to question the frightened man’s rash behaviour.
“Our host will be but a moment,” ventured Elfloq, hazarding that there could be little to fear from a man so bemused by terror himself.
The man’s wild eyes fixed on the little being half his height beside him. “I cannot stay here long,” he groaned, the sweat on his brow gleaming in the torchlight, adding harsh angles to his aggrieved expression.
“Cloudway is a haven to all,” said Elfloq. “All are safe here, so I am told. What is it that ails you, if I might ask?” he added, unable to quell his curiosity (which had ever prompted him to probe into corners where others would have been less anxious to explore).
The man shuddered, corpse-white hands gripping the counter as he looked back again. “The Gods have deserted me! They torture me!”
“But even you are safe here,” Elfloq said consolingly.
The man would have replied, but Eye Patch arrived. Surprisingly he had brought food and drink for both the familiar and the stranger, as though he had known the latter would be here. “With us again, Delirion? Have you not yet outdistanced them?” he said with one of his knowing, infuriating smiles.
“You know I cannot! Do not taunt me!”
“My apologies. Sit in Cloudway awhile. Why not share your troubles with our small friend here? Perhaps he knows of a way to ease your burden.”
The frightened man frowned at Elfloq, who took his repast and went to one of the tables, muttering curses. Delirion shuffled after him and set his own food down. “Why should an underling like you be able to help me?”
Elfloq picked at his nose indifferently. “I am not without sorcerous knowledge,” he said pompously. “My master was—that is, is—”
“Hah! Sorcerers, wizards, warlocks! Useless against the foulness that reaches out for me. There is no spell to disperse it.” He snatched at and chewed upon his meat, staring wide-eyed at the walls as though they would split to reveal something wholly unspeakable.
Elfloq drank some of the heady ale. It was delicious. He belched, enjoying the unique equality of Cloudway, his confidence mounting with each breath he took, or rudely expelled. “Will you not at least speak of this horror? I will pass on nothing of what you divulge.”
Delirion spat a sliver of bone to the floor. “Why not? Listen to this, then, and tell me, little familiar, if you know of a worse fate that ever befell a man. Once I was of high blood—never mind of what House. I had great power, and I spread the glory of the Gods in many places, far and wide throughout worlds where they had never before been worshipped or even acknowledged. I had great riches, and my mansions overflowed with treasures, both mineral and fleshy, for many were the beauties that sought to woo one as favoured by the Gods as I. In my self-indulgence I became bored by it all, so that at last none of my treasure would satisfy me and none of my women could slake my thirst for pleasure.
“It was then, on a distant world that I have since cursed a thousand times in my nightmares, that I came across the mausoleums of Vandi-Nuessa, legendary Lamia of Lamias, empress of the infamous wantons who rule the night on all the worlds of Nyctath the All-Night, the forgotten dimension. There, at the heart of the mausoleum citadel, I came upon three dreaming lamias, all incomparable in beauty, all desirable beyond words. In silent trine they slept, awaiting the dispersal of the false dusk before rising to go about their gruesome nocturnal business.
“Overcome by their eerie beauty and my uncontrollable lust, I broke the seals of their rest and one by one I ravished them before they awoke. It was like a rape of the dead, but I was as one possessed! All of them I ravaged, then fled cackling like a madman. Before night had come, I was gone, drunkenly boasting of my foul sins to my followers, who returned my laughter with sycophantic mirth of their own.
“But the Gods—they spat upon me for what I had done. Vandi-Nuessa swore that she would find and destroy me, even if it meant pursuing me to the death of the very omniverse. She invoked the Gods and they applauded her lust for revenge.”
Elfloq was nodding, spellbound. Delirion pointed with trembling finger to the invisible portal through which he had entered Cloudway. “Out there! Somewhere, drawing ever nearer! They seek me yet and always will. I cannot rest, for they pursue me inexorably. My sins! My sins pursue me! Vandi-Nuessa’s three lamias that I ravaged—wherever I go they follow. Nothing deters them, for being dead they cannot perish, not by my hand. Know that Vandi-Nuessa’s lust is like a madness, and once crossed she never forgets and never, never forgives. They will tear out my organs, one by one and suck every drop from me!”
Elfloq grimaced and hurriedly sipped at more ale, though somehow its taste had soured. “But—you are safe here in Cloudway.”
“I cannot stay here forever! I have been before. They will wait for me out there, no matter how long it takes. They cannot enter, unless bidden by any but the host, it is true, but they wait. I must flee again soon.”
“Are they close?”
“Always,” sobbed Delirion.
“Is there no way to forestall them?”
“They are as remorseless
as time. They may be held in abeyance, but for a short while only.”
“Could one such as I delay them somehow?”
Delirion looked surprised. “You? Why should you aid me?”
Elfloq smirked. “Of course, it would not be merely as a favour. There would be a small price.”
“If you can truly forestall these monsters, you may ask of me what you will, though I own no more than what you see. My riches are long since lost,” replied Delirion wretchedly.
“All I desire is knowledge.”
“You may gladly share all of mine.”
“Good,” nodded Elfloq, picking at his food. “Tell me, have you heard anything of a man known simply as the Voidal, or sometimes as Fatecaster?”
Delirion frowned. “No. Nothing. Who is he?”
Elfloq looked disappointed. “You speak of your cruel fate, but his is indeed worse. He bears the grim destiny forced on him by the Dark Gods, though he does not know the reasons. He committed some vile crime against them—”
“At least he has life—death is ever at my elbow—”
“The Voidal cannot die, being immortal. His punishment is for all time.”
Delirion snorted. “Then why do you seek him?”
“It was he who brought about the death of my former Master, whom I confess I loathed. I have no master now, which is not desirable. The Voidal is cursed, but he has power—such as I have never known the like of!”
“So you seek to attach yourself to him? Well, perhaps there is one here who can help you find him. Though not everyone is as loquacious as we are.”
Elfloq’s eyes, already bulging with inner visions of power, bulged further. “Here? In Cloudway?”
“Yes,” nodded Delirion, but there was craftiness in his expression. “I will gladly point him out. But first—you promised to aid me. Will you still forestall the three that pursue me?”
“If possible—”
“It is, it is, just for a while. Long enough to allow me to escape them and find another dimension to hide in. I have said they cannot enter here without being asked. So—invite them in. They must then stay here until you leave, for by Cloudway’s laws, they are then bound to you as under-host. Wait as long as you can. I will travel far!”
Elfloq fidgeted, tugging at his ears as he considered, but at last he gave a nod. “Agreed. But—you swear they will not harm me?”
“I do. It is only me they want. Besides, no harm will befall you in Cloudway. Now, the one you want is in the far corner, there by that dying fire.”
Elfloq almost fell out of his seat, for Delirion had singled out the monstrous figure of the being that had let out such dire curses earlier. At least he now appeared to have subsided.
“No one speaks to him, being afraid of him. He is the one they call the Broken God. Beware of his temper, small one. His powers have been crushed, but as you will see, he is somewhat larger than thee!” Delirion laughed for once, but the sound was cold and empty.
Elfloq grimaced but got up. “I will speak to him.”
“I will wait until the lamias knock upon the door. When I see you open it and invite them in, I shall be gone.”
“So be it.” Elfloq sauntered across the darkness of the great hall. It seemed far across its deceptive dimensions to the place where the Broken God sat in shadow. By the time Elfloq drew near, he realised that the man was a giant, thrice the height of any normal man. He was sleeping, snoring noisily, his bristling upper lip trembling as the giant breathed. Elfloq flew up on to the high table and stood before him. The familiar was nonplussed, for he could not decide upon a way to awaken the sleeper, nor could he be sure that to do so would not invoke the giant’s wrath. He knew that no harm was allowed to befall anyone while within Cloudway, but the sheer bulk of the being before him made him hesitate. However, one lid fluttered and a watery eye stared down at Elfloq like a glittering moon.
“Think not to pilfer my victuals—there are ample at the counter,” said the giant, preparing to flick Elfloq aside as he would a gnat.
Elfloq held up a tiny hand and spoke, somewhat tremulously. “Sire, I have not come to steal, only to speak with you.”
The Broken God blinked, surprised. He leaned forward, the lines on his face like deep channels of pain. “Speak with me? All creatures shun Murtegg and have done so for an age. What would you speak to me about?”
Elfloq detected sorrow not ire, so spoke again. “I wish conversation, that is all. Being a visitor to Cloudway, like yourself, I thought perhaps I would exchange tales.”
Murtegg leaned back in his great seat and chuckled. “You and I? What could you possibly tell me of interest?”
Elfloq pursed his lips and for some moments was silent. “Perhaps you are right, giant. You think me insolent and despicable. I’ll not disturb you—”
“Stay, stay! Excuse my rudeness, for you are the first to speak to me for an eternity, save our host, who pities me and allows me to remain here for as long as I wish—a unique privilege. The travellers that come shun me, for I am a god.” His eyes misted over as he spoke and he shook his head in misery. “I was a god. No more. I am now only Murtegg, the Broken God.”
“I have but simple stories of my own humble existence to exchange for your stories, which must surely be epic in girth—” began Elfloq, seeing that he had not underestimated the giant’s need to talk to someone.
“Well,” breathed Murtegg, “I am infinitely lonely and must remain so. You are the first to break my monotonous existence here. You see, I cannot leave, though sometimes I wish that I could.”
“Perhaps I can weaken some of your chains,” suggested Elfloq, his mind piecing together the possibilities of a plan. “But will you not tell me your unfortunate tale?”
“Very well,” Murtegg sighed. “It is the tale of the Falling Gods. Few men have ever heard of it, so doubtless a familiar such as you are can have no inkling. It was long, long ago, for even we gods measure time. When it began, there was a harmony about the omniverse, for the gods that thrive in darkness and those that create in light went about their tasks without bitterness to each other. Yet among the gods there is often jealousy and the lust for power. Thus certain gods of the darker places sought to elevate themselves and to overthrow the might of the greater divinities. To do this they had to destroy power to enhance their own. And light was the power they sought to destroy.”
Elfloq listened avidly while Murtegg looked away into an infinite distance, across whole universes as he re-created his history.
“And in those days there was one particular great place of power, known as the Burning Beach. Upon this cosmic stretch a million broken shards of light had been crystallised in particles and heaped up like diamonds upon a forbidden shore. Nothing and no one could attain this Burning Beach for the celestial sea that washed it was alive with reflected powers, scintillating with refracted rays that could destroy. The air above the Burning Beach was smouldering with heat and energy discharged by the potent glow of the Beach—nothing could fly over or through it. The ground beneath the Beach was saturated with the energy too, while the land beyond the Beach opened on to places where only the greater gods could move. From the Burning Beach emanated myriad bolts of stellar energy, sparkling into the omniverse, feeding the many gods that dwell within and around it.
“From time to time, a god might walk upon the Burning Beach and take to himself one of its glittering gems, for they were as many as the grains of sand on all the worlds of the omniverse. Yet those who walked in darkness could not attain the Beach and thus coveted its brilliant power, sworn to destroy it. Thus they poisoned the minds of those who guarded the Beach, telling them that if they betrayed its safety they could harness its powers for themselves. Alas, for the watchers agreed to do this! They allowed the sea to spill over the Burning Beach, and while the unique tide clothed it, permitted the countless spawn of darkness to stream in from their nether hells and steal away the glittering gems, until, as the tide receded, nothing of the Burning Beach rem
ained.
“But darkness had not reckoned with the might of the gods of light, for their anger was colossal. Bitterly enraged by the enormous crime, they set about destroying utterly the fiends that had betrayed them and so began the War of the Falling Gods. Into this great sundering came many, many gods and demigods, many of whom had not been involved in the original crime. Thousands fell, losing all powers. The great vaults of the omniverse rang to the exploding energies and the destruction of universes as the forces clashed. From one end of the omniverse to the other, all was pandemonium. Bitterly the gods drove out darkness and sought to punish every being remotely connected or tainted by it. For a thousand thousand millennia the terrible persecutions went on. The gods became awesome, infinitely suspicious and utterly merciless. Only the most powerful survived, the remainder stripped of all puissance, maimed.
“Eventually the extreme retribution began to ease and once more the gods became merciful. They even became, in time, tolerant, so that they allowed other powers to exist without crushing them. Justice spread. The reign of persecution had ended and a new era of peace had begun. Darkness had not been destroyed, nor can it ever be utterly so. Slowly its powers grew again, until now, I see beyond this place into the many dimensions, it has stretched out evil wings almost as fully as before. Darkness and light are in equilibrium once more, for the gods of light are too merciful.”
“And you?” prompted Elfloq. “What part did you play?”
“My part was infinitely small. By chance I came upon one of the stolen grains from the Burning Beach. I coveted it, thinking it would make me something greater than I was. But the thing was cursed—as are all those lost fragments. For my greed I was struck down and crushed like an insect. Now I am no more than that, an insect. The fragment was thrown from me and I was told to find it again and watch it until one day, perhaps, it will be taken back to the gods. Perhaps. If I did not watch it, I was told, and left it, I would be dissipated. So here I sit and watch, and wait.”
