He died with honor; and a smile on his face.
Shadowy figures surrounded Aeli when she came to. They were bent over her, their hands upon her body. They felt warm, she noticed, and their demeanor was gentle, yet firm. She blinked, trying to focus on their shape, but their nature didn’t seem to allow it. They faded in and out of focus, never fully there, and shimmered with a weak link to whatever place this was.
There was a single figure among them who was more cohesive; it was a light, shimmering shape, vaguely reminiscent of a female. She was tall, slender, and bore a crown of shimmering blades upon her strange head.
“Awaken, human,” the female said. The others backed away as Aeli propped herself up onto her elbows.
The realm in which she awoke was a dull gray in color. It was featureless, cold, and felt devoid of life and all logic. It was a void of nothingness, inhabited by a strange people who barely seemed to exist.
“Who are you?” Aeli asked, weary with the strange influx of non-magic.
The female stepped toward her, becoming slightly more corporeal as she approached.
“You know me,” she said. “And I know you, and your kind.”
“I don’t understand,” Aeli said.
“There is no need at this time.”
Aeli blinked again, trying desperately to clear her head. The female waved her hands, gesturing to the void around them. Before the Druid’s eyes, a small pocket of reality began to take shape, and the familiar sight of trees and blue sky faded into existence.
The shadowy figures around her, including the bright female, also changed. They began to become more cohesive, coalescing into humanoid shapes that appeared beautiful and divine. All of them were tall and slender like the woman, and they bore pointed ears, fair skin, and either black or golden hair.
“We are the Alvar,” the woman said. “And I am Allora, the Golden Lady of the Trees.”
Aeli knew the name; Jodocus had spoken it. This was the banshee, or the actual soul of the banshee. The Druid was at a loss.
“Where is my son?” Aeli asked.
“The star child is safe,” Allora replied. “Your Rangers will find him soon.”
Aeli sighed with relief.
“What is this place?” she asked, standing.
Allora came closer, her steel blue eyes seeming to pierce Aeli’s very soul with their beauty.
“This is the realm between dimensions,” she said. “It is a place we call Arakgar. You may call it Limbo.”
“How did you come to be here?”
Allora bent her head in sorrow, expressing a great sense of guilt. “I am responsible for this,” she said. “It was I who created this rift. And it was I who doomed myself and my people.”
“You are the banshee,” Aeli said. “You have haunted the forests of Eirenoch for centuries.”
“Come sit with me, Aeli,” Allora said, bringing a comfortable table and chairs into being. “I will explain everything to you. Then, I will return you to your world.”
Reluctantly, Aeli took a seat opposite Allora. She settled in, awaiting the beginning of her tale. Allora waved her hand, putting the Druid into a deep, restful state. In her mind, she heard the Alvar’s words, and followed her eloquent speech in her head.
When the darkness came many thousands of years ago, I knew it spelled doom for our world. This was a being of pure and unrestrained chaos; allowed by the greater cosmos to act on its whims.
This being sought the life force of all Mother spirits, but seemed to be drawn to my world in particular; all instances of it. I could not understand why.
During its occupation of Alvheim, the darkness sent its minions to destroy us in order for its feeding to continue in peace. The darkness hated all sentient life, as it still does, and sought only to destroy it. All manner of dark things began to appear. There were things that came anew, and others that were perversions of existing life; even my own people.
We fought against the darkness for what seemed like an eternity, and, eventually, all hope was lost. Our Mother spirit was sapped of strength, and could no longer support the existence of her Firstborn. They died, and thus, all life on our world began to die.
I had spent my life as a sage, so my natural instinct was to delve into forbidden knowledge in order to save my world and my people. I perused ancient scrolls left to us by the First Ones; our Firstborn. Through them, I learned many secrets, many forbidden things that mere sentients were forbidden to practice.
Through these scrolls, I learned the secrets of inter-dimensional travel; the ability to travel between Universes, or to other places within them. It was through my initial travels that I came upon a dying race. They existed upon a world orbiting a dark, dying sun. The remnants of their kind were peaceful, gentle creatures whose sole purpose was survival. There was nothing left for them to strive for, only the fate of death.
I felt that, somehow, these creatures were the key to defeating the darkness. They possessed the ability to gather energy for themselves, though on their world, they gathered it from their dying star. I took one of them and brought it back with me in hopes of altering it somehow to aid us in this battle.
But, unknown to me at the time, the darkness was also drawn to that same world through my travels there. He took the rest of them, along with my friend, and twisted them into horrifying beings of death and destruction. He then unleashed them upon my world, and our fate was sealed.
Defeated, but not discouraged, I continued my travels. Through contact with this creature of mine, I gained the ability to travel between our two dimensions. I first stepped foot on your world ten thousand years ago by your account, and what I found there gave me hope.
Though our Mother spirit was now dead, I discovered that I could replace her with something I found here; a second Mother spirit on this world. It was one that was shielded and protected by your Gaia, hidden from the outside world within her depths.
She was Theia, the sister of our Mother spirit; yours and ours. In my realm, Theia died long ago, having never encountered Gaia and gaining her protection. Our Moon, unlike yours, is a foreign body; captured by our world in passing. Your Moon is the combined flesh of Gaia and Theia, cast off by a great collision between the two.
When I discovered this knowledge, I began the maddening quest of finding this spirit and bringing her back to my world. That was when my troubles began. I could not make the journey within your world, as it was not allowed by the Universal powers. I became mad. I was obsessed with breaking these laws; with bringing life back to my world.
In my madness, I destroyed many things on your world. I caused much chaos, and much horror. I was desperate to save my world and my people. It was my madness that drove me to do terrible things of which I will not speak. But soon, my madness was ended. I encountered an odd being that both frightened and repulsed me. He closed the portal that I had made and I did battle with him. I was killed here, and my remains were buried in the forest.
As I lay dead, trapped in this realm, my madness grew. It became strong enough to reanimate my body. Somehow, I felt that the strange, dark being was drawing my essence back to my remains through some sort of vile magic. Why, I do not know. I never saw him, and I never learned his name or his reasons.
Through his dark spell, my essence became the banshee, while my soul was trapped in Limbo. I was never fully able to cross into my realm or yours. I was caught between them, and my avatar, desperate to communicate with my father, terrorized him to the point of his own madness.
He slowly faded, getting closer to death with each passing attempt to bring him to my domain. As a result, my people began fading away, appearing by the hundreds in this Limbo. They are not dead, merely caught in the shadow realm.
I vowed to restore life to my world, and to my people, at all costs. Through the centuries, I forgot this quest, and my avatar became nothing but a creature of legend; a folk tale. I became the banshee, but my soul remained here.
It was only recently that I
encountered my other worldly friend again; this creature that your mentor referred to as the “black Defiler.” In its servitude to the darkness, it had forgotten about me, and we did battle. My avatar was defeated; drained of energy, and I was trapped here once more. Eventually, I regained some strength and called to this Defiler. I found that it had been destroyed, but I imparted some of my energy to bring it back into existence. I knew that if I did so, someone would find it, and learn of its true nature. That person was Farouk, and the creature called out to him. With Farouk’s help, I reasoned, the darkness could be defeated and life could be restored to my world.
That is all that is important to me, Aeli. I care not what happens to me. It is the love of my people and my father that keeps me going, and I vow to give my own soul to make them whole again.
When I encountered you and the star child in the forest, I knew I could trust you to help. I only wanted to bring you here to tell you these things. My hands are now tied because the child destroyed my avatar once again. I am helpless to restore my world.
You must help me, Aeli. I beg you.
Aeli’s heart was heavy with Allora’s torment. She was in tears when she awoke, and let her head fall into her hands to weep. Allora stood, going to her to comfort her.
“I am sorry,” Allora said. “I did not realize your sense of empathy was so strong. I should have known better, given your nature. You are a child of the Earth, and I feel that we are kindred spirits; perhaps even the same spirit. I know how long you have walked this world, Aeli, and I know the sadness and torment you have felt. You have my sympathy, and my love.”
Aeli wept into Allora’s arms, letting her sadness melt away as the Alvar woman accepted it without hesitation.
“I will send you back now,” Allora said. “Seek out your mentor, Farouk. He alone holds the power to bring this spirit back to Alvheim, and you alone have the power to convince him. We can work together to free all of the realms of this darkness.”
Aeli wiped her eyes, knowing that Allora’s words rang true. By helping the Alvar, she reasoned, the Lifegiver could be defeated here as well.
The horror of Eirenoch, the banshee, was the key.
Farouk crossed back into Earth with his sword drawn and his staff held out before him. He waved the staff, attempting to sense Aeli’s presence, but to no avail. She seemed to be gone, and Jodocus was gone as well. Even Belo, who buzzed about in search of his creator, seemed to be puzzled. There was no one in sight; not Adder, Jhayla, Aeli, or Jodocus.
All that was left was the small pile of shattered bone and the carved skull of the banshee. Quickly, he picked up the skull and examined it. He had seen it before, when he encountered the black Defiler, but the carvings did not make sense to him at the time. Now, however, with his new knowledge, he recognized the symbols for what they were. It was an entrapment spell; one inscribed by a man he knew all too well.
These were the inscriptions of Tyrus the Blackhearted.
But how?
Who was this man that Farouk had known only as a Sultan and Sorcerer? How could he have cast this spell when he could not possibly have existed at the time the banshee was born? What were his reasons for doing so?
Seek your answers within, the Keeper’s voice said in his head. The truth may surprise you. All is not as it seems.
Farouk nodded to himself, and cleared a place on the forest floor. He would have to meditate, to seek the counsel of the Defilers within his gem. They would know the answers. He sat, folding his legs into a comfortable position, and projected himself into the realm of the gem once more.
He was glad to see his friends sitting around the fire when he arrived. They knew his purpose, and his questions, and were happy to oblige. They raised their hands to impart the knowledge to Farouk, who accepted it as a vision.
His mind was projected into Aeli’s, to his surprise, and he observed her conversation with what he knew to be Faeraon’s daughter, the banshee, Allora.
When the vision had cleared, he gazed once more upon the creatures that sat across from him. Though he now knew of the Alvar, and Allora’s purpose, the question of Tyrus still remained.
“Tell me of Tyrus, my friends,” Farouk said.
Chapter Ten
Hamal had known of the existence of the island prison for some time. He also knew that many of his allies were imprisoned there, and that bringing a vessel of appreciable size was a good idea. Thus, he now rode aboard a Jindala frigate; a ship that could carry at least one hundred men. With himself, the four priests, and the small crew of pirates that had stolen and volunteered to pilot the vessel, there was plenty of room for prisoners.
Jadhav was the goal, but there would be others.
There had to be, Hamal hoped.
When the island prison came into view in the distance, Hamal summoned the Thyrian that had been commissioned to accompany them. Though wary of those that used the magic arts, Hamal had accepted her presence as helpful, and even necessary. With her magic, she could summon a mist that would cloak the small frigate, and allow them to slip to shore on a smaller craft.
It was a good plan, and it was the only to free the imprisoned Raja. Once accomplished, Hamal would then make his way to Eirenoch to meet this Onyx Dragon; it was a location that Jadhav, he guessed, would choose as well.
“We have arrived, my lord,” a priest said.
Hamal nodded, scanning the dark silhouette of the prison walls and towers. “Summon the mist, before we get too close,” he said.
The witch, Istara, stepped to the ship’s bow, raising her arms to gather the clouds. Within seconds, a thick layer of mist rolled in from the sea and surrounded the ship in an impenetrable cloak of fog.
Hamal grinned. “Excellent,” he said.
He regarded the witch suspiciously, but felt that a small part of him found her desirable. She was beautiful, actually, with long umber hair and eyes the color of the sky. What an interesting time he could have with her…
Hamal had to shake his head to clear it of these thoughts. Now was not the time for such a distraction.
“The mist is ready, Hamal,” she said. “Be careful and good luck to you.”
Hamal nodded, keeping his eyes trained on her as he and the priests boarded the small rowboat that would take them to shore. “I look forward to having you welcome me back,” he said.
Istara grinned seductively. Hamal felt a burning for her; something he had never felt before in his life. It was as if she had cast a spell on him.
“My lord,” a priest said, snapping his fingers in front of Hamal’s face. “Shall we embark?”
Hamal shook his head, blinking his eyes to clear his thoughts and focus. “I am sorry,” he said. “Yes. Yes, we go.”
The priest at the aft of the boat pushed off, and the four of them began rowing toward the shore. Hamal prepared his weapons for the quest, strapping on the beautiful sword Imbra had given him, and his belt of throwing knives. He also carried a short bow, which fit perfectly across his back, strapped to the quiver of small arrows that he had fashioned himself.
The boat went quickly but silently through the gentle waves. Hamal was almost mesmerized by the sparkling moonlight that reflected off of the waves as he meditated. He was performing his battle ritual; attuning his consciousness to the upcoming task. He often meditated before battle, if there was time, as he believed it made him a more effective warrior.
As he began humming to himself, the priests looked at him in turn, glancing at each other questioningly. Eventually they shrugged, turning their attention back to the sea.
“Lord Imbra,” Hamal spoke finally. “Watch over us and give us the strength to do your will. Give us the courage to see it through, and to vanquish our enemies with honor and discipline.”
“Imbra,” the priests spoke in unison, concluding the prayer.
Hamal looked up approvingly, putting his hands on the shoulders of the nearest priests.
“Are you ready for battle, my brothers?” he asked.
/> “We are ready, my lord,” one said. “And we are proud to fight alongside you.”
As the shore came into view through the mist, the priests put away their oars and gazed into the darkness. The shore was flat for about ten yards before ending in a steep cliff face. They would have to skirt the shore to find a better place to ascend, or at least find a cave. The island was known for having cells in its caverns. Surely there would be an entrance on the outside.
“Should we remain in the water or go ashore and search there?” a priest asked.
Hamal shook his head. “I am not sure,” he said. “It might be easier to search from dry land. I cannot see much in this mist.”
The priests nodded, agreeing that going to shore was the better plan.
“Pull up near those rocks,” Hamal said, pointing to an outcropping just off shore. “We will wade the rest of the way and tow the boat behind us.”
“We will tow it,” one of them said. “You must not be spoiled with the filth of the sea.”
“Nonsense,” Hamal said. “I was raised on the sea.”
“If you insist.”
The priests guided the small boat toward the outcropping. It was a small cluster of man-sized boulders that had probably fallen from the cliff side at some point. It was just large enough to conceal the boat from shore.
As they reached the rocks, one priest jumped out onto the largest of them, carrying with him a tether. He wrapped it around a smaller rock that was closer to shore and nodded to the rest when it was secure.
Hamal and the priests stepped over the edge of the boat and into the cold water. It was knee deep and frigid.
“I would suggest leaving the boat tethered, and not pull it up,” the priest said. “If we have to make a quick escape, it will be easier that way. Besides, it will be better hidden from view.”
“Alright,” Hamal agreed. “Now all we have to do is find an entrance.”
Into Oblivion (Book 4) Page 10
