The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

  Maeve beamed. "And flowers in your hair, a crown of star tulips, I think."

  The next day passed in a blur. She was aware of preparations for a ceremony. All the servants were excited and kept telling her how happy she'd be. And she was happy, blissful even. She loved Lodin. Her entire world was Lodin, would only ever be Lodin. But this morning, just as she was waking, she had felt a presence in her mind, the voice again.

  But this time it had been screaming at her.

  The wedding ceremony was more beautiful than a fairy tale, her gown glittering silver and blue. Maeve had braided her hair and set a crown of woven tulips in it. She was beautiful; she saw it in the faces of the Fey servants. Even the nymphs paled in comparison. And Lodin was like a god, his skin glowing, his smile whiter than snow.

  Later that night, he took her to his—to their—bedchamber. As she stood before him, he gently removed her gown, letting it fall upon the floor. Then he lay her before him on an enormous bed covered in thick furs. His magical spear sat atop a stand near the far wall, its spearhead glittering in the light of the flames crackling in the fireplace. The same flames shone upon her love, her husband, accentuating his golden hair and skin. He stood before her, naked and perfect, his muscles shining in the torchlight, his manhood a thick rod—almost too big.

  "Make love to me," she said breathlessly, raising herself on her elbows. "I need you, my lord." And she did. She burned for his touch. Burned to feel him inside her.

  The shine in his eyes was oddly one of savage triumph, not love. She wondered at that, but then he gripped her ankles and yanked her toward him, pulling her legs wide. Angie gasped, closing her eyes and readying herself.

  And then the Shade King's screams finally broke through her psyche and took her mind from this place.

  Chapter 28

  In a single moment of wrenching disorientation, Angie found herself standing under a scorching sun amid stone ruins surrounded by dunes of sand as far as she could see. An ancient city lay all about her: blasted stone and shattered columns, broken towers, pyramids, and shells of buildings that had once been temples, courts, and estates of a long-dead civilization. Half buried in the sand were tall statues of figures that stood on two legs with too-long arms and visages distinctly lionlike. She had seen this place, these ruins, these statues once before—when the Shade King had shown her a vision of its past.

  "Why did you bring me here?" she asked the Shade King.

  There was no answer but the slowly shifting sand.

  She had been in Lodin’s bed, naked, more than willing to consummate their marriage, but now she was here, fully dressed in the camouflaged combat uniform of a Home Guard soldier. Even Nightfall sat on her hip once more, but she remembered putting it away in a footlocker in her bedchamber. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, her head was clear. I got married, she realized in shock. I married Lodin. Why?

  She shivered with sudden understanding: He cast a spell on me, but it must not work here. But where is here?

  MY ONCE HOME, the Shade King finally answered. This time its voice didn't thunder in her skull but resonated softly. WELCOME TO THE KINGDOM OF ATLANSOR, SOURCE MAGE. WELCOME, ANGELA HARRIET RITTER.

  "Why can I hear you so clearly now? What's changed?"

  EVERYTHING. YOUR MIND WAS A MAZE THAT LOCKED AWAY YOUR PAST, INTERFERING IN OUR DIALOGUE. FIRST THE DRAGON AND THEN THE SUCCUBUS. BOTH WOVE NETS OVER YOUR MEMORY. THE DRAGON SOUGHT TO PROTECT YOU FROM WHAT YOU HAD DONE TO YOUR FATHER. THE SUCCUBUS SOUGHT TO PROTECT YOU FROM ME. PERHAPS THEIR INTENTIONS WERE PURE. I DO NOT KNOW. BUT I DO KNOW THAT THE THIRD ONE, THE OTHER SOURCE MAGE, CLOUDS YOUR MIND ON PURPOSE—AND HIS INTENTIONS ARE NOT PURE.

  "Lodin. I ... I don't love him." And she didn't. She understood that now. It was like waking from a dream.

  HE HAS CAST A SPELL OVER YOU. I HAVE SPENT MORE THAN A WEEK TRYING TO BREAK THROUGH AND ONLY JUST SUCCEEDED. IN HIS LUST, HIS CONTROL OVER YOUR MIND SLIPS.

  "Lust?" She remembered being naked in his bed, but it felt more like an erotic dream than reality, a fantasy—a dark fantasy. She shivered despite the heat and wrapped her arms about herself, wanting nothing more than to change the subject. She turned in place, gazing out over the ruined city and the shifting sands. "This … place. You called it a kingdom?"

  THE KINGDOM OF ATLANSOR, BUT IT IS NOW FORGOTTEN AND LOST TO ALL BUT ME. EVEN MY OWN KIND NO LONGER REMEMBER WHAT THEY ONCE WERE.

  "Shades," she whispered. "Your people became shades."

  YES.

  "Who are you, really?"

  MY NAME NO LONGER MATTERS. TO SPEAK IT AGAIN WOULD ONLY BRING ME PAIN. I WOULD SOONER FORGET, JUST AS MY PEOPLE HAVE. THERE IS A PEACE TO LETTING GO.

  She thought of her father and wished she could let go.

  WE LOVED BEAUTY AND MAGIC OVER ALL THINGS. I REMEMBER THAT MUCH. WE WERE GREAT SORCERERS BUT EVER TOO PROUD. AND IN OUR PRIDE, WE SOUGHT TO TRANSFORM OURSELVES AND BECOME CREATURES OF PURE MAGIC, PURE ETHEREAL ENERGY—TO MY SHAME, I SUCCEEDED.

  IT WAS I WHO CAST THE GREAT SPELL THAT TRANSFORMED MY PEOPLE, BUT I NEVER CONSIDERED WHAT SUCCESS MEANT. IN THE TRANSFORMATION, THEY LOST THEIR CONSCIOUSNESS, LOST ALL KNOWLEDGE OF WHO THEY WERE. AND MOST DAMNING OF ALL, THEY LOST THAT WHICH THEY LOVED MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE: THE ABILITY TO TOUCH MAGIC.

  The Shade King laughed, but it was the laughter of the lost.

  THE IRONY IS LIKE A MOUNTAIN. THIS IS WHY MY PEOPLE ARE DRAWN TO MAGES, TO THOSE WHO CAN STILL TOUCH MAGIC. THROUGH YOU, THEY CAN ATTAIN A MEASURE OF WHAT THEY ONCE WERE BUT ONLY A TRICKLE. BONDING WITH A HUMAN OR FEY MAGE IS LIKE DRINKING THE DROPS THAT FALL FROM A NEAR-EMPTY PITCHER. FOR OTHERS OF MY KIND, THIS IS ENOUGH, BUT NOT FOR ONE SUCH AS I. I NEEDED MORE. I NEEDED A WATERFALL. I NEEDED YOU.

  "Why are you different?"

  BECAUSE I WAS THE GREATEST OF OUR SORCERER-KINGS. BECAUSE I CAST THE SPELL THAT TRANSFORMED MY RACE INTO BEINGS OF ENERGY, INTO SHADES. BECAUSE OF MY SINS, I ALONE RETAINED A MEMORY OF WHAT WAS, OF WHO I WAS.

  The world blurred, and suddenly the ruins were gone, replaced by gleaming white marble buildings and vast pyramids. Tall, gleaming white towers reached for the heavens. The city was whole, at the height of its power. Even the sand and dunes were gone, replaced by bright-green irrigated fields and oases. The city's strange feline-like inhabitants walked about, tall and blue skinned with the heads of lions and long manes that blazed fire. The strange inhabitants walked past her, through her, never seeing her. She was the ghost here. The city’s inhabitants were all mages and worked magic the likes of which she had never seen. And atop the tallest of the pyramids, a group of blue-skinned sorcerers performed a powerful ritual. A storm built above the city, growing quickly in intensity. Thunder boomed and dark clouds roiled, broken only by the flare of near-constant lightning.

  IN MY HUBRIS, I ENDED MY PEOPLE, NEVER SUSPECTING WHAT WOULD HAPPEN WHEN I PLAYED AT GODHOOD.

  A wave of glimmering magic detonated out from the pyramid's summit, cascading down throughout the city. One by one, the beautiful blue-skinned lion-headed creatures flashed into fire. They sped away, tornadoes of flames, careening about the desert.

  THEY SPED TO EVERY CORNER OF THE WORLD. IN TIME, THEY BECAME ONLY SHADOWS OF WHAT THEY HAD ONCE BEEN: SHADES.

  Just for a moment, Angie felt the Shade King’s soul-wrenching misery. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."

  THE CRIME IS NOT YOURS.

  "What are you, truly?"

  TRULY? I NO LONGER REMEMBER, BUT OTHERS OF YOUR KIND HAVE NAMED US EFFRIT, DJINN, PAZUZU, AND DEVA. BUT THESE ARE ONLY WORDS, DEVOID OF ANY TRUE MEANING. I AM FIRE AND WIND AND STORM.

  Visions passed before her as the eons passed. She saw the first of humanity's civilizations rise, little more than nomadic tribes chasing herds across the landscape, but soon villages, towns, and entire cities rose. And the humans worshipped the beings of flame.

  THE FIRST BONDING BETWEEN YOUR KIND AND MINE WAS AN ACCIDENT. A HUMAN SORCERER EXPERIMENTING WITH POWERS HE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND DREW IN TOO MUCH OF THE AMBIE
NT MANA AROUND HIM, THE PALTRY RESIDUE OF LIFE ENERGY THAT MY KIND WOULDN'T HAVE EVER BOTHERED WITH. BUT STARVED TO TOUCH MANA ONCE MORE, ONE OF MY KIND WAS UNABLE TO RESIST AND BONDED FORCEFULLY WITH THE MAGE. THE BOND WAS DESTRUCTIVE, THE HUMAN UNABLE TO GRASP THAT ANOTHER ENTITY SHARED HIS MIND. HE BECAME VIOLENT. BUT A DOOR HAD BEEN OPENED, AND OTHERS OF MY KIND SOUGHT OUT OTHER MAGES. THEY BONDED WITH YOUR KIND AGAIN AND AGAIN, UNABLE TO RESIST, ALMOST ALWAYS ENDING WITH THE DEATH OF BOTH MAGE AND SHADE. UNTIL ONE TIME, ALMOST BY ACCIDENT, A SHADE BONDED WITH A FEY, ONE OF THOSE WHO HAD BEGUN TRAVELING HERE FROM THEIR OWN REALM. THE BONDING HELD. NEITHER DIED.

  THAT FEY MAGE HELPED OTHERS OF HER KIND BOND WITH OTHER SHADES, SHARING MAGIC AND POWER. IN TIME, THE FEY BECAME POWERFUL SORCERERS, MUCH MORE EASILY CROSSING THE BARRIER BETWEEN REALMS. MANY THOUSANDS OF YEARS LATER, YOUR OWN ADOPTED MOTHER WAS THE FIRST TO HELP BOND HUMAN MAGES WITH SHADES, A MUTUAL JOINING.

  "Our bonding wasn’t mutual," Angie said, hearing the anger in her voice, feeling it build within her. "You possessed me when I was only a child."

  She felt its vast shame then, a crushing weight upon it. TO MY NEVER-ENDING DISGRACE. THE FEY WHO SENT ME TO YOUR MOTHER BELIEVED THE JAR HELD ME PRISONER, BUT THE TRUTH WAS THAT I WAS HIDING WITHIN, HOPING DEATH WOULD FINALLY TAKE ME, BUT IT NEVER DID. PERHAPS IMMORTALITY IS MY PUNISHMENT.

  Its voice trailed off, and Angie almost felt sorry for it. Almost.

  I REMAINED IN DARKNESS FOR SO LONG WITHOUT THE TOUCH OF MAGIC. UNTIL THE DAY I FELT YOU.

  "When Char asked me to use my life-sense magic on the jar?"

  JUST SO. I COULD HAVE RESISTED ALL OTHERS, BUT NOT YOU, NOT ANOTHER SOURCE MAGE, NOT ONE WHOSE HEART WAS AS PURE AS YOURS, UNSTAINED BY EVIL. I AM SORRY.

  "Another source mage? There were others like me?"

  LIKE YOU? NEVER. BUT THERE HAVE BEEN OTHERS WITH YOUR GIFT. WATCH AND LEARN. SEE WHY I WISHED FOR THE RELEASE OF DEATH.

  The sand whipped about her, stinging with its intensity. She hid her face behind her arm. When the sand died away, she saw yet another desert kingdom, this one built along the banks of a huge green river, a human kingdom, Babylonian or Egyptian, perhaps. The buildings were made of crude bricks and clay formed from dried mud and painted with garish colors. Farmers tended fields, fishermen pulled their catch from the river with rope nets, and children ran about, playing happily. It was all so beautiful, like a fairy tale.

  As with the blue-skinned lion race, no one saw her. She was another ghost.

  She blinked and found herself within the city, standing on a busy street. Citizens in bright robes rushed about. Merchants hawked their wares. The buzz of a thousand conversations washed over her in a language she didn't know. She stood before a young man, his hair bound in a turban, wearing little more than a dirty loincloth, sitting cross-legged against a brick building, his palms resting up against his thin, scabby knees. His face was malnourished, his lips covered in glistening sores. A beggar, she realized, his stench gag-inducing.

  But one who glowed with arcane energy.

  AL-ADIN. THE FIRST SOURCE MAGE I BONDED WITH. WHEN I REALIZED HIS POTENTIAL, I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF. I WAS LITTLE MORE THAN A STARVING BEAST.

  A dense storm of fire swept down upon the young man. He looked up, seeming to meet Angie's eyes, and screamed. As he did, the fire swept down into his throat, just as it had done to her so many years ago in Char's sanctum.

  BUT HIS SOUL WAS ALREADY TAINTED BY HIS SAD LIFE, TWISTED BY ANGER AND GREED.

  Sand blew about her again, obscuring her vision once more. When it calmed a moment later, she saw the young man wearing beautiful robes, casting powerful spells. He stood alone against an army, casting flaming whirlwinds to scorch his foes. The arrows of his enemies struck the shield the Shade King erected, shattering in a shower of sparks. Sand whipped about her once more.

  HIS PEOPLE CALLED HIM A HERO BUT ONLY BECAUSE THEY HAD YET TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN HIS HEART.

  Now she saw the young man atop a white-marble throne wearing a crown of gold and rubies, attended by servants, a harem of beautiful naked women at his feet. She saw prisoners brought before him for judgment, which was always death, always beheading. At first, the prisoners were captured thieves, but later others ... political opponents, and then anyone who questioned his rule. Bronze axes fell, blood sprayed, and heads rolled.

  THROUGH ME, HE RULED AS A TYRANT. AND ALTHOUGH I ONCE AGAIN TASTED MAGIC, I BEGAN TO REGRET OUR BONDING. AND ALWAYS HE INSISTED I TEACH HIM MORE, HELP HIM FIGHT HIS NEIGHBORS. WHEN I REALIZED THE DEPTHS OF HIS CRUELTY, I HELD BACK THE GREATEST PART OF MY MAGIC, REFUSING TO TEACH HIM HOW TO PROLONG HIS FOUL LIFE. WE CAME TO HATE ONE ANOTHER—AS MUCH AS WE NEEDED ONE ANOTHER.

  Time passed, and the young man became an old king, his face lined with hatred and spite. The once-beautiful kingdom by the river was now dark with fear.

  I WAS TRAPPED, WATCHING HELPLESSLY AS HE COMMITTED EVIL ACT AFTER EVIL ACT. BUT AL-ADIN COULD NOT ESCAPE TIME, AND HE DIED—HATED AND FEARED. BUT I WAS TRAPPED WITHIN HIS DEAD FLESH. I HAD NOT THOUGHT SUCH A THING COULD HAPPEN.

  She saw the funeral, saw his old body buried within the bowels of a stone crypt.

  FOR YEARS, PERHAPS HUNDREDS OF YEARS, I LAY TRAPPED WITHIN HIS MOLDERING REMAINS. UNTIL ... ANOTHER CAME FOR ME.

  A young woman with long dark hair and even darker eyes broke into the crypt. She carried a lit torch, but like Al-Adin, she blazed with magical energy. She’s another source mage, Angie realized. The woman found Al-Adin's mummified corpse. She broke the bones apart, stuffed them into a wooden chest, and carried the remains of Al-Adin—along with the trapped Shade King—away from the crypt.

  BABI YAGHA, THE SWAMP WITCH. I DO NOT KNOW HOW SHE LEARNED OF ME, BUT WHEN SHE DID, SHE WOULD LET NOTHING STOP HER. BUT AFTER LIVING WITHIN AL-ADIN FOR SO LONG, I NOW RECOGNIZED THE SAME EVIL IN HER. I SWORE I WOULD NEVER BOND AGAIN WITH SUCH A CREATURE.

  I WAS A FOOL.

  Babi Yagha carried the box out of the desert and far to the west, to forested mountains wreathed in mist, and finally to a stinking, foul swamp. A small hut stood within the swamp atop wooden stilts like a dock rising from the sea. Dark fog wreathed the hut, and it seemed alive with menace. Skulls sat atop wooden posts. Many of the skulls were those of children.

  BABI YAGHA TRIED TO ENTICE ME TO BOND WITH HER, PROMISING ME GREAT MAGIC. I REFUSED. BUT BABI YAGHA WAS NOT WITHOUT HER OWN DARK ARTS, HAVING LEARNED TO LIVE AND WORK HER MAGIC WITHOUT THE HELP OF A SHADE. SHE WAS ONE OF THOSE RARE CREATURES, HUMAN MAGES WHO HAD SOMEHOW LEARNED TO WIELD MAGIC WITHOUT KILLING HERSELF.

  Angie saw the young woman use a stone mortar and pestle to crush the bones holding the Shade King. Then she mixed the powder with the blood of a child she had slaughtered. Horrified, Angie watched as Babi Yagha made an unholy paste and consumed it all, licking the bottom of the stone bowl when she was done.

  THIS TIME THE BONDING HAD BEEN FORCED ON ME—A CRUEL JOKE, DO YOU NOT THINK?

  "I'm ... I'm sorry. That's horrible."

  IT WOULD GET MUCH WORSE. ALTHOUGH BONDED WITH ME, SHE COULDN'T MAKE ME TEACH HER. WHAT SHE COULD DO, THOUGH, WAS WIELD VASTLY MORE POWERFUL SPELLS THROUGH ME.

  The vision before Angie blurred and sped up. She saw the woman casting fire spells, roaring tornadoes of flame that burned entire villages. The countryside around the swamp became desolate and abandoned. The Swamp Witch became infamous, with tales spreading far. Some challenged her, heroes who came to her swamp to destroy her, but they always died in fire. She grew old, living alone in her hut, and because she was so hated, when she became sick, there were none to tend her. She died alone, victim of a fever, and no one knew or mourned her end. The swamp became a foul, haunted place.

  AND SO I WAS TRAPPED AGAIN, ONCE MORE LOCKED AWAY WITH THE BONES OF ANOTHER DEAD MAGE. BUT OTHERS HAD HEARD TALES OF BABI YAGHA’S EVIL. OTHERS WHO DIDN’T FEAR THE SWAMP WITCH.

  A dozen forms moved through the swamp, approaching the witch’s hut. Angie stared, not quite sure what she was looking at. Then realization coursed through her: the
figures were Fey, unmistakable now. Elven warriors accompanied a Fey woman with bark-like skin and hair so green that at first Angie thought she wore leaves in her hair but then realized the leaves were her hair. She was a dryad. Char had spoken of them, but never had she met one. The dryad walked with a long staff, her feet bare, unconcerned about the filthy swamp waters she traversed, and indeed, with every step, the waters became less foul around her. The Fey approached Babi Yagha’s hut, now fallen over and lying half submerged.

  THEY CAME TO END HER EVIL, NEVER REALIZING SHE HAD BEEN DEAD FOR MORE THAN A YEAR.

  They broke through the door, warped by water, and saw the rotted remains of the witch’s corpse. Even in death, Babi Yagha’s dark eye sockets glared at them.

  The Fey dragged Babi Yagha’s rotting corpse from her hut and burned it and then scraped her remains into a jar—a clay jar roughly a foot tall and covered in hieroglyphics, the same jar that had held the Shade King in Char’s sanctum a lifetime later.

  The circle of time had closed.

  THEY CARRIED ME BACK TO THE EAST FROM WHENCE I HAD COME. I HAD BEEN USED FOR SO MUCH EVIL THAT I VOWED TO NEVER LEAVE THE JAR AGAIN. THERE WERE NO SOURCE MAGES AMONG THE FEY WHO HELD ME—EVEN AMONG FEY, SOURCE MAGES ARE EXCEEDINGLY RARE. THEY STUDIED THE CHARRED REMAINS OF BABI YAGHA, SUSPECTING SOMETHING REMAINED BUT UNCERTAIN WHAT IT MIGHT BE. SOME SAID "DJINN," BUT IT WAS ONLY A GUESS. THEY HANDED ME FROM FEY TO FEY BEFORE, CENTURIES LATER, SENDING ME TO ONE AMONG THEIR KIND WHO COLLECTED MAGICAL ODDITIES—YOUR MOTHER, THE SUCCUBUS.

  "She … she thought the jar was empty," Angie said in a whisper.

  I SLEPT—UNTIL THE DAY I FELT YOU PROBE MY REMAINS. WHEN I FELT YOU, WHEN I TOUCHED YOUR SOUL—A PURE SOUL, ONE NOT TWISTED LIKE AL-ADIN’S AND BABI YAGHA’S—I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF. I DID WHAT I HAD PROMISED TO NEVER DO AGAIN: BOND WITH ANOTHER SOURCE MAGE.