The ocean of spirits fell silent for a heartbeat, then let out a thundering cheer.
Cerah gazed at the burning prison for a moment. Then she became aware of a hand touching her own. She looked down and saw the spirit of a beautiful young girl. Although she looked nothing like the child that had come to her during her last visit, the child whose form Pilka had assumed, Cerah knew who it was.
“Hello, Therra,” she said.
“Hello, sweet Cerah,” said the girl, giggling.
“I’ve come to take you to your father, and to your Father.”
“I’m ready to go,” Therra said.
“We are all ready!” shouted the millions of spirits as one.
“Well then, let us not tarry!” said Cerah. Even as she spoke the words she saw the air before her begin to shimmer. It was similar to what she’d experienced before, when she’d moved to Between. But this light was brighter, and golden in color. The shimmering started at the level of the cracked and broken ground of the Under Plane, but extended upward, seemingly for miles.
Cerah looked down at Therra. “Alright then, you first,” she said.
Therra looked at the shimmering portal. She turned back to Cerah and threw her arms around her. “Thank you, Chosen One!” she said. Then she turned, and with the pure innocence of a little girl, skipped into the light, and was gone.
“The way is opened!” called a spirit.
Cerah stood beside the opening, taking the hand of wraith after wraith, and guiding them into the shimmering door.
It seemed to her as if she stood there for a century. So many souls! she thought again and again as they passed through by the hundreds, by the thousands, by the millions, beyond counting. She greeted each one with a smile and a blessing. “Welcome home,” she would tell them. Many took a moment to thank her, but most, equal parts grateful and afraid that the door might close before they made it through, simply ran into the light, not looking back.
Finally, after a very long time, a single spirit remained, that of a woman. As Cerah saw her approach she held her hand to her mouth. She recognized her. It was the woman she’d met in the Cavern of Sighs, the farmer’s wife who had taken the lives of her children and herself.
“I know you,” said the woman, speaking the same words she had first uttered upon encountering Cerah, on a day that seemed to have passed a lifetime ago.
“And I know you,” said Cerah. “It was you who first introduced me to the desperation of this place.”
“And now you lead me to a place where there is no desperation,” the woman said. “A place where I will be reunited, not only with my family, but with the One whose love was ever available to me, had I only reached out for it.”
“Reach now,” Cerah said.
To her surprise, the woman stepped up to her, and kissed her on the cheek. When Cerah had met this spirit in the Cavern, she had tried to reach out to her, to steal her essence. Now as her lips touched her, she felt life flow into her. Cerah trembled at the feel of it.
The woman stepped back and moved toward the light. At the last moment, she turned and said, “It’s time for you to leave as well.”
But the voice was not the woman’s. It was Ma’uzzi’s.
Parnasus stood mute. Loar Pilta dropped his sword as his feet, and let loose a scream, as he turned his face to the sky. Near him, Jessip could only tremble, so broken was he.
The beating of the hundred thousand doubled in volume, as Surok joined them, pounding his giant fist against his chest, creating a noise like the world’s hugest log being struck with the world’s largest club.
The Army of Quadar, every warrior, stood silent. They never thought to turn and run. They just remained, as if their feet were anchored to the ground, and waited for death to come to them.
All was lost. The Chosen One had fallen. The brave general, who they had followed from battleground to battleground, lay dead at her side. The wizards had witnessed the one who had led their flight for all these months literally torn apart. Two dragons continued to wail in the drenching rain.
Then, without warning, the most impossible, unexpected, unimaginable thing occurred.
As Parnasus stood looking down upon the lifeless form of Cerah Jacasta, her eyes flew open, and she drew a gasping breath! The First Elder, almost afraid to believe what he was seeing, cried out, “She lives! The Chosen One lives!”
The warriors near enough to hear turned their gaze to her. As they looked on in utter astonishment, Cerah moved her arm, placed her hand on the soaking wet ground, and pushed herself up to a sitting position. She turned to Parnasus.
“How long was I gone?” she asked him.
“Three minutes. No longer,” the astonished wizard managed to say.
“Three minutes!” Cerah exclaimed, rising to her feet. “To me it felt as if it was seven hundred years.”
Parnasus, the anguish falling from his face like the rain falling around them, laughed out loud. “I have never been dead,” he said. “I suppose I have no point of reference.”
Cerah smiled, but then a realization dawned upon her. At her feet, Slurr still lay motionless.
Slowly, almost gracefully, she knelt beside him. She gently placed her hand on his chest, over his still heart, then lowered her mouth to his ear. “Stop loafing, Lug. You’re going to miss the miracle.”
Then she pushed down sharply with her hand, saying “Out!”. As she did, Slurr seemed to exhale, as if he’d died with an unspent breath still inside of him. An instant later he, too, opened his eyes, sucking in a huge breath of cold air. Without moving, he looked up at his wife, and smiled.
“I met Him,” he said.
“I know. I did too,” she answered weakly. Her spell cost her much energy, almost all of it, but she was beaming nonetheless.
Slurr sat partway up and looked around. “Where is Kern?” he asked.
The wonder of seeing the two young people risen from the dead had momentarily caused Parnasus to forget his grief, but now his face fell once more. “The demon has taken him from us.”
“Where?” asked Cerah. “Show me. I will bring him back.”
“There is nothing left of him, dear Cerah,” said the grieving wizard. “Surok broke his body and fed it to the teaming filth below.”
Slurr let go a cry of sorrow. “No, not Kern!”
Cerah turned to him. “Do not despair,” she said to her husband with great authority. “He joins the great elders of the past in the Light of Ma’uzzi. You saw it, Slurr. You know the bliss into which Kern has passed.”
Slurr nodded, and though his tears still fell, he bravely said, “Yes. I know. His suffering is ended. But Cerah, is ours just begun?”
“I believe his may be the final sacrifice we will have to endure,” she said.
As she spoke, Russa broke free from the wizards who stood beside the gradually recovering warriors and ran forward. She skidded to a stop by Cerah and to the amazement of all assembled took her hand and pulled her a short distance away from the others. As they walked, Russa placed her hand on Cerah’s stomach.
“Don’t fret, Russa,” Cerah whispered to her. “Ma’uzzi Himself has told me the babes are well.”
Russa was silent for a moment, then looked up beaming. “They are!” she said. “But I saw the bolt strike you directly in the place they grow.”
“Yes,” said Cerah. “A fearful thing. At least it stuck Slurr in his least vulnerable place: his thick skull!” Cerah held Russa’s face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you for your care, Sister.” She walked back to the edge of the cliff.
Below them the beating had stopped, at first diminishing, then rapidly ceasing altogether, until only Surok continued to make the noise. But as he saw his minions pointing up the cliff, he lifted his gaze, and witnessed what they had already seen. The witch was alive!
The gigantic demon, who had been birthed out of hatred, and had festered in anger for a thousand years, now felt that all of that, every evil heartbeat he’d ev
er known…was nothing compared to the odium which was building within him at that moment. So absolutely possessed with furor was he that he could not even decide what to kill.
Then the decision made itself clear.
From the right side of the vast column a pair of forms could be seen making their way to the base of the cliff. To the horror of all who looked down from above, the vile Silestran that Zenk had secretly named the Mouthpiece came, dragging a woman with him. Her mud-spattered dress was torn to rags, revealing her nakedness to the horde of vile creatures.
“Mother!” Slurr screamed as the realization that it was she dawned upon him. As he looked on in horror, the Silestran reached to the thick leather belt which stretched around his waist, and drew out a jagged knife. He lifted it to the woman’s throat.
Slurr moved to the very edge of the cliff, looking as though he was going to dive off in some insane attempt to help her, but Cerah grabbed his arm.
“For your pleasure and delight, my Master,” the vile creature screamed to Surok as he pressed the blade against her skin, a tiny trickle of red appearing beneath it.
Suddenly another form moved from the throng. “No!” called a voice. To the amazement of Parnasus, he realized the speaker was Zenk.
“It may be too late to stop the destruction of the planet, or to save the wizard or human race. But you, you stinking bastard, will not spill another drop of blood!” As he spoke, Zenk leapt high in the air, bringing his staff to bear, and drove the point of it deep into the eye of the snarling Mouthpiece. An instant later the knife dropped from his hand as the staff broke through his skull and, snapping in half, came out the back of his head. The black beast seemed to waver for a moment, then sank lifeless to the ground.
In the next instant two things happened. Cerah grabbed Isurra and pointed it at Preena. A shaft of green light shot the fifty feet from the top of the cliff to the bottom, and enclosed her in a pocket of shimmering power. She pulled the staff back, like a fisherman striking his catch, and Preena flew, screaming, through the air, landing at her son’s feet.
At the same time Surok lifted his closed fist, and pointing it at Zenk thrust it forward. A blast of cobalt energy shot forth and struck the wizard. As the First Elder looked on, Zenk’s body was crushed by the magical blow, and he fell broken to the ground, landing atop the Silestran’s prone form.
A single tear escaped Parnasus’s eye. “He is… redeemed,” he said quietly.
Slurr turned to the warriors behind him, “A blanket!” he called. As he knelt to help his mother, Loar Pilta looked to his right and saw a man with a woven wrap around his shoulder. Snatching it from him, he ran to Slurr and handed it to the general.
“Thank you, Smooth,” he said, wrapping it around his shivering mother.
“Now what?” Loar said.
Slurr looked at his captain. “I have no bloody idea,” he said. “There’s still a whole hell of a lot more of them than of us.”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Cerah, standing beside her husband.
Slurr looked up at her, “It kind of does,” he said.
“Maybe she’s right, though,” said Loar. “I mean, we’re all going to die, but let’s die as warriors.”
“No,” said Cerah. To Slurr’s shock, the voice that came from her mouth was not her own. A strange look had come over her face. “No,” she said again. “You will wait.”
As they all turned to look at her, Cerah walked to Tressida, who only moments before had screamed at the loss of her match-mate. Now the golden queen stood tall, a cast to her regal face such as none had seen before. As the Chosen One approached, the dragon knelt and allowed Cerah to climb upon her back. She moved between her wings, and stood, facing the army. In a voice that boomed from her slight frame came these words:
“Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army, for the battle is not yours, but mine. Hold your positions, stand firm and see the deliverance that I now bring to you!”
“It is the voice of God!” exclaimed Preena, pointing to her daughter-in-law.
Now Cerah turned once more to the sea of black creatures, spread out as far as the eye could see on the rocky plain below. She turned, but did nothing. She did not so much as lift her hand.
The monsters, hearing the words from above as clearly as had the Army of Light, began to look at one another in confusion. Just as it appeared that they might break and run themselves, Surok raised his pointing claw, and screamed, “Why do you wait, you tick-worms! Scale this wall and kill them!”
Slurr watched as their resolve seemed to return to them as a wave crashes against ancient rock. They surged forward, a few even reaching the cliff wall.
But at that moment, the oppressive gloom was pierced from above by a golden shaft of sunlight. A break had appeared in Surok’s broiling, red clouds. The beam poured down and touched the rock wall of the towering cliff. It slid down the wall, reaching the Silestra who were preparing to climb. As it did, they collapsed to the ground.
As the astonished Army of Quadar, wizard and warrior alike, looked on, the breach in the clouds widened, and with it the streaming sunlight touched more and more of Surok’s monsters. The instant it did, they dropped dead.
The rain stopped. In a matter of seconds the entire bank of swirling clouds turned from red to grey, from grey to white, then evaporated altogether. Blinding light filled the plain and as it did every Siluman, every karvat and every single Silestran crumpled to the ground. In less than a minute, the entire Army of the Dark was utterly vanquished. Where the bodies had fallen, the light remained, shimmering on the valley floor.
The shocked warriors could not speak. But the silence was broken.
For amid the sea of vile corpses, Surok still stood.
“No!” he screamed, his voice as horrid and blood-curdling as ever. “No, I will not relent! I will not bow down!”
Parnasus knew the demon was not speaking to him, or any of the other’s arrayed atop the cliff, realization slowly dawning upon them. The First Elder knew that Surok was cursing the Voice who had spoken through His Vessel, His Chosen One.
Surok began to move toward the great beast Orzo, but before he could climb upon its vast back, another sound rang out.
“Now you are mine!” screamed Cerah, in her own voice.
As Slurr watched, shaken by the sudden return of his wife’s self, he saw her dive off Tressida’s back, her staff-blade Isurra held in both hands, high above her head. The gorrium weapon, normally a bluish-grey when uncharmed, now shown a brilliant, glowing gold. But before he could appreciate the savage beauty of the staff, he watched in horror as Cerah sailed over the edge of the cliff.
“No, don’t!” he screamed. But it was too late. His heart sank, as he watched her fall, knowing that in an instant she would be dashed upon the rocks at the base of the cliff.
But she was not. Rather than plummet, Cerah soared across the sky. Flying, but without Tressida to carry her, she moved in a blazing path directly toward Surok, whose fiery red eyes flew open so wide that the white around the crimson pupils was clearly visible. Before he could raise a hand to send a blast of dark magic hurling toward the small dot of woman that grew larger by the second, Cerah, letting go a guttural scream that frightened even Parnasus, thrust the staff-blade downward and plunged it into the demon’s skull.
Surok, his eyes crossing as they looked up to see Isurra protruding from his forehead, stood motionless. Cerah released the weapon, and to the amazement of all left alive to see, gently floated down, softly landing on the ground in front of the towering demon.
“My blade has pierced you, but it is the wrath of the One against whom you rail, this Ma’uzzi whom you have hated, which undoes you now! Surok, you are ended!”
Surok’s body began to quiver slightly. The vibrating increased in intensity, until he convulsed as if unseen hands held him, shaking him like a parent shudders a petulant child. Cerah, looking up at him, did not move.
Then, with a sound that must have
been heard in Lamur and Nedar, Surok’s body exploded, sending shards of black flesh in every direction. High atop the cliff, Parnasus and Slurr, who stood at its edge, lifted their arms to shield themselves from the shower of remains.
Then, as the echoes of the blast receded, a great silence fell across the plain. Cerah turned and looked at the huge dragon-thing, Orzo, upon which Surok had been moving to mount. “You are released,” she said to it.
In yet another wonder to challenge the benumbed minds of the warriors and wizards of the Light, the great beast lowered its head and began to tremble, as a dragon did when phasing. As they watched, the topaz colored beast began to diminish in size. As it shrank the color of its scales began to alter, until a few moments later, it had become a second golden dragon, slightly smaller than Tressida, but very similar in all other regards. She was regal and proud, and she raised her head to let go a trumpet of freedom.
“That is Brala!” Parnasus exclaimed. He recognized the riderless queen who had fought in the war that saw the discovery, and the beginning of the thousand-year bondage, of Surok. When the war had ended, she had flown off alone, never to be seen again.
Cerah walked to her and placed her hand on the dragon’s golden neck. “She thanks you,” Tressida’s voice said in Cerah’s mind. “I hear her, Cerah. She speaks, even as do you and I!” The dragon paused for a moment, listening. “She tells me her sad story. After the Great War, she flew back to the Frozen South, planning to destroy what remained of Surok’s dark creations and Pilka’s evil karvats as well, and, if she could find a way, perhaps even the demon himself. But she had underestimated his power, even while bound in Opatta’s crystal prison. He cast a dark spell upon her, changing her into the beast Orzo. For a thousand years she has been so, a pure queen trapped within a swollen, evil frame.”
Upon witnessing the transformation of the dragon, and the demise of Surok, the voices of the Army were finally loosed. Thunderous cheers, utterances of thanks to Ma’uzzi, and more than a little weeping in joy broke upon the cliffs of Andoor. Near the head of the column the giant Loar Pilta grabbed the diminutive Jessip, and planting a huge kiss on his cheek, began to dance with him.
A Single Candle (Cerah of Quadar Book 3) Page 33
