by Derek Barton
There! The Barrier. He thought aloud. On his last excursion, he encountered the Barrier, the wall of the bubble that the In-Between represented, for the first time. The end of Taihven’s soul-line went into this titanic wall. It wavered or rippled as if from some unseen wind and stretched over his head and below his feet miles in each direction. The millions of strands impacted and connected to the Barrier.
He had finally gotten to the end stages of his plan. It was time to retire Ramnethas and lead the beast army himself.
The time had come to bring war to Adventdawn.
#3
LLasher petted the black and red Khellervo between its pointy ears. It whined and panted, squinting in the bright sunlight. He had a special fondness for canines – the Khellervo had been ever loyal and never failed him for tracking. The Camiyaan however did not name the burly male. Names were labels and nature was free of such man-ideas.
A small set of prints broke the surface of the snow and led around the barn. Another set joined the first by a set of stairs and went away from the barn toward Emerich.
“You sure, boy?”
It strained against its leash, pulling toward the barn in the lonely clearing and whined again.
“Hesspa.” He commanded in a low tone. The dog relaxed and waited for the slaver to lead.
He surveyed the dilapidated structure as he followed the prints to the broken cellar door. “This would be a smart place to hide, young prince.”
LLasher used the same spike bar that Taihven used to pry the cellar open.
The Khellervo bared its fangs and growled a warning to the shadows. The pair descended the steps cautiously, but the day light quickly revealed Taihven’s motionless body as he leaned up against the cellar pole.
Ah there is the prize!
LLasher rubbed the dog’s head once more, “Good boy!” He retrieved a strip of deer jerky and fed it the treat.
“Garea V’Pos!” The bear-like hound skipped back up the steps and sat outside in front of the cellar steps.
The Camiyaan stepped over to the prince, studying him and examined the chains around the boy’s wrists. Taihven’s eyes were open but empty and his mouth gaping. “You are a most curious, young man. Did you do this to yourself or did someone bring you here?”
He glanced around the room and found nothing but dust and cobwebs.
It matters not. This again just made my task that much easier. I will need to take him to the ship tonight. Perhaps there are blankets upstairs.
***
Autste’s consciousness merged and for a brief second, he inhabited Taihven’s strand. He had no idea what would happen next, but he gambled all his efforts on this very event. He had mused over what the strands were and what they had meant for hours, days, weeks – at the end of the strand, it could only connect to the actual person, right? If you were to enter the soul-line and slip through that end, would you not enter their world?
The time had come to experiment with this hypothesis. The risk was high, but Auste had not been able to fathom any other way out of the Chaos Realm. Now, inside the soul-line, he felt his consciousness race forward into a foggy darkness at the end of the line.
When the darkness receded and light filled his vision, he realized he was back in a body! I am finally back!
Auste looked down at his chained hands. His body was shackled to a post.
Wait! This is not me — it is Taihven’s body! His mind rejected what it was seeing. He was past confusion.
“Are you back with us, Boy Prince?” A bald man asked him, standing on a series of cellar steps. He was dragging one end of a cot.
Before he could respond, Auste was overwhelmed by a searing pain. Taihven’s body spasmed, twisted and writhed as the pain devoured him.
His agony continued as a deafening roar burst from the prince’s throat and through his lips. “Aaaahhhhhhhhh!”
Suddenly the boy’s jaw split wide open and the essence that was Auste exploded through Taihven’s teeth and splashed onto the floor.
He heard screams and dog barking but then all existence blinked out.
Auste became… nothing.
***
Auste awoke to find himself lying partially naked, his hands and feet bound. A moldy horse blanket had been thrown over his groin and legs. He sat next to Taihven on the cellar floor of some abandoned barn. He had no idea how long he had been...nothing.
It worked! The thought blazed across his mind in spite of his bindings. I am back in Tayneva.
The prince was laid up against the wall; his eyes still devoid and lifeless, his hands bound in chains.
This must have been where his half-brother hid when I brought him last to the Chaos Real. A few droplets of blood were on the prince’s chin and collar. The tell-tale sign of Auste’s homecoming and rebirth into this world.
An odd, bald man leaned against the wall across the room. His eyes were frantic and bulging as he studied Taihven then Auste.
Auste laughed aloud, startling their captor. “That had—” he broke off to cough and then spit into the dirt.
“That had to be quite the sight, I dare say.” He finished.
“What damnation are you, beast?” His captor whispered.
“I will give you one chance here – I am feeling generous an—“
“—You scared my Khellervo off! That dog has never known fear.”
“You will untie me and then you will be gone.” Auste commanded through clenched teeth. He hated being interrupted.
Auste’s tone caused the Camiyaan to stiffen and square his shoulders. Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and stood over the naked albino with his hands on his hips.
“No, you are mistaken. You are certianly not in the position to make any demands.” He leaned over and patted the handle of a woodmen’s double-headed axe. “And I am not feeling as generous, so I will keep you tied. Now, tell me who you are and how did you come out of Taihven like that?”
Auste smiled and shrugged. The transition to this world had cost him too much and he did not have the energies to take over this arrogant bodyguard. However, he had another thought and he began to gather his remaining will.
“Do you protect the royal family?” Auste asked, stalling for time.
“Hardly!” The bald man laughed. “Look, this is a simple trade. So, for starters, my pale friend, my name is LLasher and I do not like surprises. Now, to keep your left leg, you will tell me who you are?”
“That is a very long story.”
Before LLasher could reply, scratches at the door made him spin around.
“I think your dog has come back.” Auste said, a wide toothy grin on his face.
As he marched up the steps, he pointed the axe back at his prisoner, “We are not done with our introductions.”
The dog whined and scratched again at the cellar. LLasher pushed open the door, “I should leave you in the cold! You left m—“
The canine lunged and thrust the Camiyaan to the cellar floor; its jaws snapping near his face. He was pinned under its massive paws.
Auste called out, “You are quite right, LLasher. Let me introduce myself. My name is Auste and this is my new companion. I think I will call him… Haedrec.”
#4
Auste crossed the floor on shaky feet skirting around the bodies of the dead dog and man. The Khellervo had the axe buried deep in its jaws. The bald man, LLasher, lay in a growing puddle of blood.
“I did try to be generous.”
He went to a bulky, oak cabinet and work table. On one shelf, he discovered another set of thin, mildewed blankets. He shrugged. Smelling horrible was a step up from freezing. Wrapping the two blankets around himself, he decided to further explore the work table.
A curved metal tool was buried amongst nails and metal files. The tools were most likely for working with horseshoes, but he surmised it would be helpful in protecting himself.
“Or… for other uses.” Chuckling to himself, he spun around and walked back over to the boy.
After a few moments, he stood back and reviewed his efforts on Taihven. Blood trickled in small trails down the young man’s nose and left cheek. Auste smiled at his artwork.
“Let’s see you hide that!”
He hugged the blankets tighter and climbed the set of steps leading to the upper floor of the barn. In the loft, he found a cot that occupied one corner. For now he would rest, recover and then seek out Ramnethas and the rest of the Viestrahl armies.
#5
Taihven held up his renewed Hand Torch and further translated the magic runes written on the Soul Render walls. The majority of the magic contained elements from the school of Binding and a few spells bent on time stasis. He had never been a scholar to either of those principles of magic. The theories and the practices were beyond him and he felt a headache building along the base of his skull. The spiraling runes and minute scripts were depressing to look at. He dismissed the torch and sat alone in the dark.
Although he rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands, they continued to throb more in response.
Something was wrong.
He knew something was about to occur. Just before a pulse of immense agony struck, he had thrown out his arms and legs and braced up against the cell walls. A tearing sensation rolled along his limbs. He felt as if he was being torn apart piece by piece and pulled to the four directions all at once. The prince retched into his lap as unconsciousness snuffed out his agony.
The prince awoke lying on the cold metal floor of the Soul Render. His sense of time was destroyed — no candle clocks, no chime towers were around to mark the hours or days. He could not begin to account for how long he had already been imprisoned. Have I been in here only minutes or had it already been days, he wondered to himself.
In Aberrisc, he had often found that time between his world and this Chaos Plane had not been relative. Taihven explored his body with his hands and determined that he had not been hurt by whatever caused the pain before. Questions floated in his mind – Would the pain return? Was this something the Soul Render did?
A part of Taihven could relate to Auste and could understand how and why insanity was a better alternative than sitting an eternity in silence. He also understood the attraction to listening to the whispers voicing vengeance.
Taihven sensed that he was slipping into despair. What can I do? Even if I escaped, how could I lead the city against Auste and the Viestrahl from here? How would I be able to warn them? Were they all cursed by his father’s sins and by association, all of Tayneva damned? Did Father really lead them to this doom?
Why did you do this? Taihven asked internally.
What would make you… The thought stalled in his mind as Auste’s answer rushed him. Your mother was raped, Brother! You are the abomination of both our families. The freak albino’s horrible gravel voice repeated the scorching secret.
All of this was an act of revenge for the deaths of his uncle and great aunt and the rape of his mother. His father’s emotional reaction of intense rage and bloodlust.
Every angle that he meditated on made sense. His mother’s constant anger and resentment towards him. The feeling of never truly being a member of the Artadeus family and an outsider. Even the episodes made more sense to him — how his half-brother took advantage of their shared bloodline to enact an escape from his prison. Every moment of his life led to this fate — Auste had been correct when he stated that the Soul Render was Taihven’s rightful prison. He never stood a chance.
Anger welled up in him. Fury overtook his senses as he pounded his fists and kicked his feet at the walls. Taihven screamed and vented till his voice cracked and his throat was raw. He sat panting and sweat-soaked.
The youth shut his eyes and tried to calm down. Images of the past days flashed across his mind. Taihven relived many of the episodes he had had in his mind. Pictures of all the unique places he trekked within Aberrisc, the Chaos Realm. At long last he had finally learned the truth – the episodes were not illusions. This world lived. It all existed.
Taihven had always hated his malady. It had set him apart and embarrassed his family. But now, he realized that the episodes had made him stronger, self-reliant and they made him adventurous. This chaos made him who he was. He had learned to take risks and had discovered friends and allies. The prince reflected on the Balshazra and what they built here in their realm.
“Wish you were here, Akuem.” He joked aloud.
Proafdes’ voice chanted in his mind. Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa
A thought sparked in the prince’s mind. “What if…” Could it be that easy?
Proafdes had called him an “Imaadrasj.” He was indeed an accomplished spellcaster and ranked well in the city’s hierarchy of Evokers. And he already used a Hand Torch so he knew it was possible to draw out sigils and cast spells inside the metal cell.
During his times in Aberrisc, Taihven had observed that sorcery was more of a verbal base or mental trigger. In contrast in Tayneva, they used air-drawn sigils as a focus of power. Would it be possible for me to learn one?
Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa
Restoring the Hand Torch, he returned to the runes, looking for anything that would prevent the use of the Gate Ring spell. He found only that the symbols and the runes along the Soul Render affected the outside of the cube to protect it from damage or disruption. There were other incantations that seemed to affect the inside to sustain the prisoner’s health.
“But would you have anticipated anyone using such a unique spell of displacement?” he asked aloud. Already talking to myself, Taihven thought. Not a great sign.
He stalled attempting the spell and continued his analysis of the runes. Taihven frowned when he did find evidence that the Render’s creators had used some displacement protections. “You will not stop me though. I know it! I just have to get the words right.” Doubt gnawed at his resolve in spite of his brave words.
Even if they had, would their magic protections affect magic that originated from within the Chaos Realm? On the other end of that debate was the question: would he be capable to cast it?
He dismissed the torch, concentrated and spoke the words over and over in his head as he remembered them. Yet, he was scared to utter the words aloud in the dark.
Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa
Shook his head, stretched his arms out in front of him and then he exhaled with a deep sigh.
“Alright. I...am...ready.”
He focused in his center being as he was taught and gathered the magical energies around him. Then in a hushed tone, “Donsiam Donsta Roy— No!”
Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa, the words rang out in his brain like a set of temple bells from the Cambelda Monolith Tower in Wyvernshield.
Taihven exclaimed in the blackness, “Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa!!”
He held his breath, but nothing happened. This had to work. It made complete sense to him. Perhaps he did not capture the right tone or inflection.
Repeating with care, he said again, “Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa!!” A spark of white light blinded him for a second. It winked out as fast as it came.
Taihven contemplated his situation. The flash had to be a sign that he was on the right path and now he was confident that it would work. The prince analyzed every word and every way Proafdes had pronounced it. He practiced the hand movements of her hands.
“Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa!!” The incantation rang true and a miniature gate ring appeared by his feet. It was only two to three finger’s length across. An image of green grass was pictured inside it. But how do I get you bigger? He mused to himself.
Taihven concentrated on the band, felt the energies flow through his fingers as they encircled the band. He expanded the ring in opposite directions. The band vanished with a balloon-pop-like sound.
Sweat slicked his brow and his hair stuck to his temples. He nodded to himself. It was a rough start, but he found his own key to the jail cell. The prince just had to reach t
hrough the bars and pull it to him.
“What I need… What I need is a band about four feet across.” he spoke aloud, working out the details and picturing it before him.
“Donsiam Donstoa Reas Vash-kekaa!!”
His arms were out in front of him and between his hands a duplicate ring formed. He spotted water splashing on the other side. Suddenly the ring bounded out of his hands and extended the full four feet he had envisioned. The bottom of the Soul Render vanished below his feet and he fell through it before catching his balance. The prince dropped without grace down the side of the red metal pyramid base and tumbled into the brackish water. The cold stole his breath away and he sank several feet in shock. Blood trickled from a scrape on the back of his right hand.
