“I can feel it getting closer.” Sorial’s voice wasn’t a whisper but it wasn’t at full volume. Sounds could carry great distances in open spaces like this during the quiet of the night. “The last time I came down here, I was apprehensive but this time… I’m terrified.” It was a difficult admission but he felt better once he said it. He remembered an old proverb decreeing that giving voice to one’s fear rendered that fear powerless.
Alicia squeezed his arm. “I’ll be with you to the last moment. I wish I could jump through with you.”
They had discussed the possibility of a joint venture but had decided against it. As desperate as they were to avoid the eventual, and possibly final, moment of parting, going together invited unacceptable risks. They didn’t know whether it would work with Sorial alone and, if something went wrong, Alicia needed to remain behind to plan a second incursion. This mission was about duty and sacrifice not personal desires.
“The last time I traveled to Havenham, all I could think about was coming back. If it worked… if the portal didn’t reject me… I could go back home and claim you. Of course, I knew I could die but somehow that didn’t matter much. It was worth it. Now, I don’t think about returning to Vantok.”
“Whatever happens, we’ve had six seasons together we never would have otherwise had. Despite all the horrible things we went through, I wouldn’t trade them for anything. That day when my father refused his permission… if the gods had offered me six days, I would have seized the offer.”
“As would I. To touch you, to hold you, to ravish you.”
“Whatever happens, when you’re facing whatever it is you come up against, remember that you’re everything to me and always will be.”
They could easily have had sex then but, by unspoken agreement, they refrained. Both knew that the new territory explored on the night by the river would render traditional expressions of passion strangely unsatisfying and there was no way they could replicate the intensity of that experience here and now. If that was destined to be their last time together, it would be a memorable one. A quick orgasm in the middle of a field near The Forbidden Lands didn’t qualify.
The journey progressed with little to impede them. They passed into The Forbidden Lands without incident. Even the weather cooperated. They encountered no other people although Sorial’s earth-sense told him there were some around and Lavella spotted a few during her frequent scouting expeditions. Apparently, most of the able-bodied men who lived in and around The Forbidden Lands had joined Justin’s army and few had returned.
One night after a session training Dorthik, Sorial expressed his concerns about the future Lord of Earth to Alicia. “He’s an astute learner and has a quick mind. He grasps concepts more quickly than I ever did. It’s too bad he’s got such an inflated opinion of himself. Once he comes into his power, he’s going to build quickly. Deep magic ain’t gonna be a secret to him, at least not for long. I’ve shared a few tricks that’ll allow him to bypass some of the hurdles I had but I ain’t told him everything. You’re gonna have to watch him to make sure he don’t become obsessed with putting his interests above all others.”
“I’m aware of his shortcomings. Don’t worry so much, stableboy. And stop talking as if it’s a foregone conclusion that you won’t be coming back from Havenham. One would think you want to disappear into the portal never to return as a way to avoid dealing with some of these issues.”
Sorial admitted there was a kernel of truth in his wife’s words. It wasn’t that he wanted to die, or whatever it might be called becoming exiled from the material world, but that he was poorly suited for the administrative needs of the Magus Prime position. It was like being the governess of a group of unruly children. If he enacted a punishment that one of them wasn’t willing to accept, it could create a schism. In a way, Justin had possessed the right idea: form the wizards’ cabal out of men and women with a deeply rooted personal loyalty. Sorial had no concerns about Alicia and Lavella but Dorthik would almost certainly be a problem in the future and Excela was a wild card. If those two joined and decided not to abide by the dictates of the Magus Prime… Alicia would have her hands full.
They reached Havenham near high noon on the thirteenth day after glimpsing it in the gloaming on the prior evening. Their path through the mountains was almost identical to the one Sorial remembered from his previous trip. In fact, he was able to point out the exact spot where the rock wyrm had confronted them. Alicia was interested in hearing his stories and recollections of the previous trip. Lavella continued her self-imposed isolation by refusing to alight except when necessary. Dorthik and Excela were inclined to ignore Sorial unless he was providing information germane to the usage of magic.
When they reached the clearing where Sorial had been captured by Langashin’s men, he paused. Outwardly, there were no indications that this was a different place than the many similar areas they had passed through, but Sorial was bludgeoned by an immediate sense of recognition. Here, Darrin and Lamanar had died, one as a result of the rock wyrm’s poison and one by a spear through the back. Here, he had learned his mother’s saga from the perspective of the only man to have loved her. And here he had suffered the first catastrophic wound of his life. Looking back on it after suffering two additional devastating injuries, having a hand severed wasn’t so bad.
Sorial didn’t have to say anything to Alicia for her to understand what this place meant. It was like visiting the grave marker of a loved one. While Dorthik and Excela busied themselves locating and munching on berries, Sorial pointed out to Alicia where Lamanar and Brindig had died and where he had fallen into Langashin’s hands. The memories were surprisingly fresh in his mind even if no trace remained on the ground. Time had wiped it clean; even Sorial’s earth-sense could detect no traces. Events momentous to him weren’t important to the land. What were a few deaths and some bloodshed? He shouldn’t have been surprised - it had happened nearly two years ago - but somehow he was.
The ruined city, or at least the remnants of it extending above the tons of earth entombing it, was much as Sorial remembered. He was surprised the nomads hadn’t returned to stake their claims after his display of magic had frightened Langashin’s company away but, superstitious lot that they were, they now viewed the place as accursed. The tents and other temporary structures built to house the motley group had collapsed long ago, making the place look more decayed than on Sorial’s previous visit.
He made his way through the ruins, his steps guiding them unerringly toward the chamber of the portal, which had at one point been a place of worship. Not far from the entrance, he paused at another grim milestone of his past. Langashin - or what remained of him - was still there, buried to the waist in the solid rock Sorial had formed from the ground under his feet. Scavengers had long since stripped the body of flesh and the man’s clothing was also gone. What remained was a large, crippled skeleton with a shattered skull. It was a macabre sight. Sorial could understand why no one had returned. The body was a totem.
“Is that him?” asked Alicia.
Sorial nodded. “Langashin. My body still bears the marks of his cruelty.” Although most of the scars have been covered over by newer ones. He relived the battle in his mind. His actions had been primitive and wasteful - those of a newborn with no conception of how to use his mastery over earth. With a negligent gesture, Sorial turned his enemy’s bones to dust, removing the grisly relic. Closer to the mouth of the chamber were the bones of men killed by Brindig. He did the same for them. The watchman’s remains were safely buried beneath his feet, ashes that had by now been absorbed by the earth.
The downward sloping tunnel leading to the portal chamber was dank and dark, so Excela used her tentative capabilities to conjure a magical tongue of fire. Burning with a comfortable, smokeless orange glow exceeding the brightness of a pitch-coated torch, it hovered above her head and offered sufficient light to reveal the path ahead. The chamber itself was huge - far too big for the magical flame to show more
than a small portion of it.
“The song is strong here,” remarked Dorthik. In his eyes, there was a faraway look.
Sorial could hear in his memories what the younger man was listening to in actuality: Comecomecome. He had returned to brave its stygian depths a second time - something wizards were repeatedly warned against. The first time offered glory, the second offered death.
They moved forward across the dirt-packed floor until the fringes of Excela’s radius of illumination touched their destination. The portal’s housing resembled a large water well. The stone lip was set off the ground by two feet and the actual opening was surrounded by a annular walkway with an outer perimeter of about forty feet.
“This is where you were ‘born’?” asked Excela, her voice echoing in the vast emptiness of the chamber. “Not a very inviting place. Then again, at least you don’t have to climb up a damn narrow flight of stairs.”
“It was even less inviting when I was here,” said Sorial. “We had to fight our way in and out. And the stairs are there, just buried. The street level of the old city is two hundred feet underground.”
“I can smell death in the air. This is a vile place,” said Lavella. “The portal isn’t tainted but men made this an altar where sacrilegious acts were commonplace. Sacrifices, orgies, abominations against the gods.”
Sorial sensed nothing of the sort, and it was likely the gods had been dead by the time any “abominations” began. The earth told him only that beneath his feet were the remains of men he had entombed here and, farther down, the buried remnants of mighty Havenham, the greatest of all the ancient Southern cities. But Sorial lacked Lavella’s religious indoctrination. She had spent most of her mature years in the temple, serving out her sentence as The Wizard’s Bride before Alicia had replaced her. Fifteen years of life with priests was sure to leave an indelible mark.
“I don’t know ’bout that. I’ve always taken a liking to things others call ‘abominations’,” said Excela. “But I don’t want to stay here no longer than necessary. Let’s do what we’ve got to do and move on.” Then, perhaps recognizing the insensitivity of her words, she added with a nod to Sorial, “Once you’re ready.”
Sorial wasn’t ready and he doubted he ever would be. It was hard to accept that the time had come, that he was face to face with the moment of his destiny. He couldn’t even take solace from the knowledge that his action would save the future because there was no certainty. He didn’t know if the procedure they intended to use, cobbled together from riddles and guesses, would serve its intended purpose. If it failed, Sorial supposed it wouldn’t much matter to him. Oblivion would welcome him and he wouldn’t know the difference.
“Every man must face his end,” intoned Lavella, sounding like the priests she had lived with and studied under. “It comes upon many unawares but those who face it with certain knowledge of its arrival must do so with calm stoicism.” It sounded like something Ferguson might have said. Perhaps it was. Was Lavella the late prelate’s disciple?
“Spare us,” muttered Alicia, clearly in no mood for her aunt’s homilies. “We all know what this means. We traveled for two weeks to get here for this purpose. That doesn’t make it any easier.”
Now that it’s come, I don’t want to go. But there wasn’t a choice and delaying the inevitable served no purpose. The last grains of sand had trickled through the neck of the hourglass. His time was up.
He stepped forward to embrace Alicia for the last time. He held her tightly against him, breast to breast, feeling her heart beating in tandem with his as his good arm encircled her back. His lips found hers and pressed against them with urgency, lingering until they were bruised. Their breath and saliva intermingled. The tears in her eyes were mirrored in his own. He wanted to say “goodbye” but couldn’t find the voice for that word. It was terrible in its finality. Dying wasn’t the source of his fear of the portal; losing Alicia was. Last time, he had come here with the hope of gaining her. Now, he was letting her go.
He loved her with the entirety of his being, this beautiful woman whose face and form echoed that of the golden-haired girl who had barged into his stable and his life when things had been so much simpler. With her flashing green eyes, imperious manner, and fear of mice, she had been with him ever since, first as an occasional burr, then as an unattainable desire, and finally as a companion of his heart and soul. He was glad for the time they had spent together and regretful that it had to end so soon. He looked into her eyes and read the same things. Her lips formed one word: “Stableboy.”
He stepped away from her, tears spilling down his cheeks. In the relative darkness of the room, no one could see them except Alicia.
“How do you want to do this?” asked Lavella once it was clear the moment between husband and wife was done.
“We stand next to the portal at equal points. Then, at the same time, all four of us direct our magic into it. I don’t know how long we’ll need to do it; I’m hoping there will be some indication when it’s primed. Then I’ll step in and we’ll see what happens. Dorthik, stay well back. The others can protect themselves in the event of some kind of backlash but, at least for the moment, you’re vulnerable.”
“No fear there. The way that thing’s singing to me, if I get close, I might get pulled into it.”
“Don’t let that happen, at least not while I’m still around.”
“That’s it?” Excela’s surprise was evident. “No intricate spells? Just send raw energy into that black hole?”
“That’s it,” said Sorial. And hope we’ve got it right.
As Dorthik retreated toward the chamber’s entrance, the four wizards took their places on the shelf surrounding the aperture with Sorial between Alicia and Lavella and Excela directly across from him.
“Open yourself to the power and let it flow through you as we practiced,” said Alicia, offering guidance to the newest wizards. His wife had assured him they were capable of maintaining a flow of magic for long enough, although neither knew what that might entail. Long enough for what?
“It’s been a pleasure working with you all, though we ain’t been together for long. If I don’t come back, Alicia will take over as Magus Prime. I hope what I do now will be enough to make the future safe.” Sorial took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and did his best to relax his body. “Let’s begin.”
Simultaneously, four strands of magic poured forth: fire, water, air, and earth, all aimed into the gaping maw of the portal. There was immediate feedback as the magical energy emerged from the portal only to be returned from whence it came. At first, nothing happened. The portal absorbed the magic without any seeming effect. Sorial was beginning to worry that their approach might be wrong when he noticed the change.
It started out faintly but built with surprising speed. The “noise” was sharp and irritating, a buzzing like a hive of angry bees. The assault wasn’t on Sorial’s ears but on his mind. Anyone in the chamber without magical sensitivity wouldn’t have noticed a thing. It took a force of will to maintain the stream of magic. He hoped the new wizards would be able to hold. If they faltered… As if from a distance, he heard a scream. Dorthik. But he couldn’t worry about the young man now. The point of crisis was nearly here. He could sense it.
From the depths of his mind, the chorus began: Comecomecome. It was grating, not soothing as it once had been. The tone was angry and resentful, but it carried the same sense of compulsion, the nearly undeniable urge to act. This time, however, it promised rage and pain, not peace.
The door was open. Almost without thinking, Sorial stepped through.
His experience entering the portal was a polar opposite of the first time. The sense of serenity that had previously accompanied his slide into blackness was absent. Instead, his body was poured into a cauldron of turmoil, a vat of seething elemental energy. Making intimate contact with such raw power was stunning, shocking, devastating. It elicited unimaginable pain. The touch of the efreet had been mild compared to this. He could
n’t scream because his voice, like his sight and hearing, was gone, stripped from him. Fire seared him, air buffeted him, water drowned him, and even earth was no friend. His stewardship was gone. His flesh melted from his bones and then even the bones were gone. That which had been his body was destroyed. But he remained.
Sight returned but not through his eyes. Before him was a door, the same one he had glimpsed during his previous excursion into the portal. This time, with no way back, it was open. Caught up in a current he couldn’t fight, he was swept through that opening and into a different reality. The door slammed shut behind him, trapping Sorial in the Otherverse.
CHAPTER FORTY: BYPASSING GRIEF
Alicia stopped the flow of magic as soon as Sorial disappeared. There was no point in keeping it up. She had watched him go, almost as if in a dream. Present one moment - real, vital, and able to be touched - then gone the next. Despite being assaulted by the portal’s tortured, incessant, ragged Comecomecome, she had kept her eyes fixed on her husband, as if by looking she could hold him close. She had been determined to watch him until there was nothing left, until he was beyond her ability to see. She could tell that Excela and Lavella had been faltering, but she had ignored them for the moment. In this brief instance, a sliver of time between seconds, it had been all about Sorial. Then he had taken the fateful step forward and slipped into the portal.
He was gone and didn’t return. As soon as Sorial passed into it, the portal stopped. Its sense of power vanished. The Comecomecome ceased along with the buzzing. The portal was dead. But what about Sorial?
She continued to stare at the opening through which he had vanished. The deep blackness of the void was gone; all that remained was a conventional shaft. Sorial’s body hadn’t been expelled by the portal but he could have fallen all the way through. Regardless, he wasn’t here. Whether that meant he had passed through the gate or died in the process, she didn’t know. The “where” was the biggest, most critical question of all, and one for which there was no ready or obvious answer.
Shadow of the Otherverse (The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga Book 3) Page 56
