Into Oblivion (Book 4)

by Shawn E. Crapo

“You already know my name.”

  “What do you want?”

  Akharu reached up to lower his cowl, revealing a dark red, sinister face with glowing red eyes that shone with all the fury of Hell. His hair was stringy and black, and his fangs were yellow and dripping with venom.

  “I only want to kill you,” Akharu said. “That is all.”

  Garret swooshed his saber quickly in front of him, inviting the demon to commence its mission. Akharu grinned, his yellow fangs glistening in the dim light.

  “Get to it, then,” Garret taunted.

  Akharu paced from side to side, evaluating Garret’s stance. Before he could react, Garret struck.

  He leaped forward in a spinning strike, his blade cutting the air with a high pitched whistle. Akharu blocked with his gauntlet, countering with a spinning slash of his own. Garret blocked as he landed, spinning behind the demon and immediately thrusting at its back. Akharu dodged, leaping backward as he turned to face the assassin.

  “You’re very quick for a human,” Akharu said.

  “I’ve been doing this for a while now,” Garret retorted, stepping forward to unleash a series of diagonal attacks.

  The sounds of clanking metal echoed in the cavern as the demon blocked and countered with equally quick strikes. The two traded blows in a furious display, lighting the cavern with the magical sparks of their colliding blades.

  Akharu charged, alternating between side to side strikes and spinning slashes that drove Garret back. But the assassin rolled forward, thrusting upward as he tumbled past. His blade caught Akharu in the upper arm, sending the demon back, screaming in pain.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Garret said, shooting his grappling hook at the cavern’s ceiling. Akharu, holding his wound and gritting his fangs, watched as the assassin was pulled upward and propelled through the opening in the ceiling.

  Growling, Akharu leaped upward, following the assassin to the surface.

  Garret saw the demon rise from the opening, landing straddled across the gap. The two had emerged on a tall cliff that dropped off into the sea. Garret’s memory told him he was on the west coast, near Argan. It was a good place to do battle.

  “Tell me, Scorpion,” Akharu said, stepping onto solid ground. “Did you allow your own son to kill you out of love, or were you simply shocked that he existed?”

  “I have no children, demon,” Garret replied, but knowing in his heart that Akharu spoke the truth. His words stung Garret’s heart, and more memories came flooding back. Ignoring them as best he could, he charged Akharu again, growling with rage.

  He leaped into the air, turning his blade to thrust downward. Akharu dodged, tripping over a group of rocks that lay around the cavern’s opening. As Garret landed, he spun to face the demon, stepping toward him quickly to thrust downward. Akharu rolled away, flipping back to his feet and stabbing his blade behind him.

  Garret winced as the dark blade pierced his ribcage. The pain was incredible, and he felt The Lifegiver’s magic course through his veins. Akharu relaxed his posture, watching Garret as he stumbled off.

  “It seems you’re not as quick as I thought,” Akharu taunted. “Shall I finish you off, or shall I tell you more about yourself?”

  “Go back to Hell,” Garret hissed. His vision began to blur as he headed toward to the sea. His thoughts and feelings began to overwhelm him, the emotions doubling the pain that already existed.

  “You died at Faerbane,” Akharu said, casually walking toward him. “It was Eogan. The son of Queen Maebh, and you.”

  Garret continued his slow escape. Visions of Eogan flashed in his mind as the memories returned. He saw the hatred in the boy’s eyes, felt the knife in his heart, and heard the boy’s laughter. The event that resulted in his death then began to play backwards. He saw himself kneeling over Siobhan, cradling her body in his arms as he watched the life drain from her eyes. He had killed her. He had killed his love.

  He was a murderer.

  Akharu stopped as he heard Garret sob. He sheathed his sword, knowing that his mission was successful. Though not in an assassin’s nature to allow his target to suffer, the demon found amusement in Garret’s pain; not only the pain of his wound, but the pain of sudden realization. Satisfied, he squatted, watching the assassin curiously as he continued to stumble toward the cliff.

  “Where are you going, Scorpion?” he asked. “I want to watch you die, as you did Siobhan.”

  That was it. Garret growled, picking up his pace to sprint toward the edge. He screamed at the top of his lungs, allowing the pain and anger to fill him.

  Sensing he was about to lose sight of his target, Akharu leaped up, drawing his blade and chasing Garret before he could get away.

  As Garret leaped over the edge, he spun, drawing a dagger from his belt and hurling it at the demon. The blade struck Akharu in the chest, where his heart would be. The demon howled in pain, grasping the hilt as he watched Garret disappear over the cliff.

  Growling with rage, he stumbled over to the edge, glaring down at Garret as he fell.

  As he descended toward the sea, Garret had the feeling that he had been in this position before. He remembered receiving the fatal blow at the hands of his own son. As then, he now watched the face of his killer as it grew smaller with his ascent.

  Garret smiled as he saw the expression of rage on Akharu’s face.

  Then, there was blackness.

  Akharu cursed as he sheathed his blade. Though the dagger that stuck out from his chest was painful, it was harmless. He had no heart. It was a mere inconvenience.

  “Until next time, Scorpion,” he whispered.

  Akharu, The Lifegiver spoke.

  “Yes, my master.”

  I have watched the battle. I am impressed. Your skills are far beyond my expectations, and your taunting was amusing to me.

  “I have failed you, my master,” Akharu said, shaking his head.

  No. You have done well. You have achieved far more than the Corruptor has. You have my blessing, and my thanks.

  “Thank you for your mercy, master.”

  For now, forget about the assassin. You have achieved your goal, and done my will. I am proud of you, my son.

  Akharu smiled, pleased to serve his master. “What is your command, my lord?”

  Find King Eamon and destroy him. I have faith you will be more successful than your counterpart.

  The demon bowed his head. “Your will be done.”

  The Corrupter felt the opening of the rift once again. Even at this distance, he was able discern the crossing of the Grand Druid, whom he now considered his greatest obstacle. The Druid had crossed into Alvheim directly from the tower. Why, he could not guess. Faeraon was already here in this realm, and there was nothing left in Alvheim to salvage.

  However, there seemed to be a gathering of sorts happening at Southwatch, where he was now headed. The Corruptor decided to teleport nearby, but to walk the remaining mile or so in order to avoid detection. If the Druids and their ilk sense his presence, he would lose the element of surprise.

  He now stood within one hundred yards of the tower, and glared at its massive spire in hatred. He knew what lay there; now and in the past. The great wizard Traegus had built it, and the Corruptor knew that the hated lich had returned. There was a strange sense about him, though. Something about his aura seemed different.

  “Blasted undead fool,” Malthor cursed under his breath. “No more alive than I, but revered and respected. Vile.”

  The Corruptor sat crossed-legged near the forest’s edge, focusing on projecting his consciousness into the tower among the gathered magic users. He felt Traegus—different as he was—along with Faeraon, Maedoc, a wild beast of the forest, and a woman and her… mentor?

  No. Not an older being, yet… impossibly ancient. How could this be?

  Jodocus was dead, he knew. The Devourer had killed him. But it was Jodocus—a different Jodocus; almost as different as Traegus was now. The child, he realized, was the sou
rce. But how?

  What was happening?

  Sighing, the Corruptor laid back in the leaves. He would wait until Farouk returned from whatever errand he had left to perform. Though soon, Malthor began to feel the growing presence of another spirit; one similar to Faeraon, and from the same realm. In fact, he felt more of them all around, as if they were shadows of the people who once lived on Alvheim.

  How could he sense them here? They were dead from what he knew. The Lifegiver had stolen their souls and doomed them limbo. His magic had transformed their bodies into pure energy and banished them from reality.

  Had The Lifegiver been mistaken? Had he misjudged the effectiveness of his powers?

  “Damn you, Absu,” he cursed. “Damn you and your narcissism. You have failed yourself.”

  Chuckling to himself, the Corruptor slipped into the restful sleep of the undead.

  Chapter Twenty One

  “Baphomet,” Khalid said.

  “Baphomet?”

  “Yes, that is his name. Before The Lifegiver came, many farmers began to make offerings to Baphomet in order to greatly increase the yield of their crops and the production of their livestock.”

  “Who was this… being?” the Dragon asked. “A child of Imbra?”

  Khalid shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. “He is a Djinn, a benevolent one at that.”

  “I see. So when the farmers gave offerings he would use his magic to bless their crops and such.”

  “Yes,” Khalid said. “But probably not out of the goodness of his heart.”

  The Dragon laughed. “For what reason, then? What did the farmers offer him?”

  “Ohhhh, portions of their yields, goats, their daughters.”

  The Dragon chuckled again, covering his face with his hand. “Now that is a smart Djinn. He fancied human women, eh?”

  “Indeed he did,” Khalid replied, smiling. “But he was kind to them. He lavished them with riches, the finest silks, gold jewelry. Anything they desired.”

  “Well,” the Dragon said. “I’m glad to hear he didn’t eat them.”

  “Not in the literal sense, no.”

  The Dragon turned to Khalid in question, but saw only the man’s wry grin.

  “Interesting,” he said, slowly grinning, but not truly realizing why.

  Suddenly Khalid stopped, cocking his head as if listening. Dagda stopped as well, slowly realizing what had caught the priest’s attention.

  There was a low hissing sound; long and drawn out. It was deep, resonant, and slightly rumbling in nature. It stopped for a moment, and then started again. This time, the hissing was louder and more forceful.

  “What is that?” Khalid asked.

  “We are getting closer to our destination, Khalid. I am starting to feel the presence of both spirits that are here. Theia is asleep; the other is… dead? Dead but somehow alive. Dreaming perhaps.”

  “It is breathing, then?”

  The Dragon nodded. “Yes, we must be careful not to anger it.”

  The grotto began to widen, gradually opening up into another massive cavern. The jagged walls, ceiling, and floor were lit with an odd greenish-blue light that was interlaced with highlights of orange. Though the center of the cavern was obscured by the ruins of thousands of arched buildings, the orange light was apparently centered there. It shined up from behind the ruins, lighting them as if they were on fire.

  There, on the far side of the cavern, was a massive throne. Upon it was a giant statue, exactly like the statue that was carved out of the pillar far back in the ruined city. But, this statue was more realistic. Though made of stone that reflected the multi-colored light, its realism was striking. However, it and the throne were encased in huge stalagmites and stalactites that had formed over it through the eons. It seemed like a prison of sediment, trapping whatever figure was depicted in an eternal prison.

  Still, Khalid could not shake the feeling that this statue was something more. Something…

  “Living,” the Dragon said. Khalid nodded slowly.

  The two approached the near edge of the ruins. The crumbled arches seemed to surround a massive object that was the source of the orange light. As they got closer, it became obvious that the bluish lights also had their source from the object, or other smaller objects that surrounded it.

  “This is definitely Theia’s Firstborn,” the Dragon said, seemingly overwhelmed by the power that was present. “I can barely breathe. I feel like I am in the presence of greatness.”

  “Calm yourself, my friend,” Khalid said. “You are not thinking rationally. This is an alien being. One that is malevolent and violent. You said yourself that being trapped here for billions of years would have a negative effect on any sentient being.”

  “I did not word it quite that way,” the Dragon said. “But you are right. I must not falter. This being is why I am here. Not Theia. I know that now.”

  “Can you absorb his life force?” Khalid asked.

  The Dragon shook his head. “I am not certain. But if I could, his power would be more than enough to sever the connection The Lifegiver has with Gaia.”

  “Sever the connection?” Khalid repeated. “I thought you came to gain strength to fight The Lifegiver.”

  “I am beginning to think that my time is near, Khalid.”

  “What do you mean?” Khalid demanded, facing the Dragon in defiance.

  “My son is the one who will battle Absu, not I. My task is as the tasks of my brothers; to give my life for the sake of the Earth.”

  Khalid choked on the Dragon’s words. “But… what will we priests do without you?”

  The Dragon turned to Khalid, and the priest could see the love in his eyes.

  “Khalid,” the Dragon said softly. “I am glad that you came to be my servant. But the time has come for me to return to my Mother. She needs my strength. Indeed, she needs the strength of all of her children.”

  Khalid gritted his teeth, a lump slowly rising in his throat. “Dagda,” he sobbed. “You were my savior; my salvation.”

  The Dragon put his hands on Khalid’s shoulders, looking into his eyes. “You have made me very proud,” he said. “You have redeemed yourself a thousand-fold. You must now become the redeemer.”

  Khalid shook his head, lowering his eyes. “Though I do not share your faith in me, I will do whatever you wish.”

  “Good,” the Dragon replied. “Then help me awaken this beast, and we will kill it.”

  Khalid nodded hesitantly, not sure whether killing a Firstborn was a good idea. But, if the Dragon had no qualms about doing so, who was he to argue? As Khalid himself had said, this was an alien entity. It did not belong here anyway.

  The two of them crept among the ruins toward the center of the circle. There was no way around them, as the ruins stretched from wall to wall, and going straight in seemed to be a better idea anyway. As they traversed the columns and archways, they kept to the shadows. Though the only visible sources of light were the bluish and orange lights themselves, there was also a strange ambient light that illuminated the outside surfaces of each ruin with a pale white glow.

  The entire scene made Khalid uncomfortable.

  “The closer we get, the hotter it gets,” he said.

  “I noticed,” the Dragon replied. “But that is normal, I suppose. A Mother spirit would give off heat, even if it was trapped within the confines of an alien world.”

  “Should we awaken her first?” Khalid asked. “That way she could exert some control over this Firstborn if he tries to kill us.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be able to get free. He has sat there in that throne for millions, perhaps billions of years.”

  “Still, his anger may strengthen him.”

  “That is possible,” the Dragon agreed, stepping over a large collapsed column. “But I have no idea how to awaken a Mother spirit.”

  There was a sudden rumbling, as if large chunks of rock had shifted in the distance. Khalid and the Dragon both stopped, ducking beh
ind the cover of shattered arches. The Dragon peered out toward the far end of the cavern, his eyes widening.

  “What is it?” Khalid asked, frantically.

  The Dragon fixed his gaze on him; his look was not good.

  “I think our friend awakens,” he said.

  Khalid dared to peer around the corner. The Dragon directed his gaze.

  The statue’s eyes had opened.

  The Prophet awoke in terror. She shot upright in her bed, her naked body covered in sweat. Her heart raced, and her mind squirmed with revulsion. It was a revulsion that was both sickening and pleasurable at the same time. As she sat in the darkness of her chambers, she focused her mind on a new presence. It was one that seemed to have awakened from an impossibly long slumber.

  It was a presence of great evil; a primordial evil filled with hatred and vengeance.

  “Kingu…” she whispered, divining the name from the Earth itself.

  Who was this Kingu? Was it an Earth spirit? A demon? Was The Lifegiver aware?

  Quickly, she dressed, pulling on her gown and fixing her crown upon her head. Her excitement grew as she raced for the door. Should she seek The Lifegiver’s council?

  Igraina.

  “Yes, master?” she replied, her hand still wrapped around the door handle.

  Do you feel it?

  The Prophet swallowed. “Yes, I do.”

  Find it and destroy it.

  “But…” she stammered.

  I AM GOD HERE!!!!!

  The Lifegiver’s voice boomed inside her head, causing her to press her hands against her temples to relieve the pain. She groaned, her teeth grinding with every heartbeat. Her chamber spun around her, The Lifegiver’s ethereal glow illuminating the walls and casting dancing shadows across everything.

  “Please…” she begged. “Please. No more. I will do as you ask.”

  Slowly, the room ceased its spin and the turmoil within her slowed. Breathless, she collapsed to the floor.

  Good. Never question me again. You are mine forever.

  “Yes, master,” she whispered.

  Forever.

  “What do we do?” Khalid asked.