by Jordan Baker
The catch in his throat moved for a slight moment and Aaron felt himself scream as a burning fire burst forth from deep within him. The ice, cold sharpness that had pierced him pulled away as the shadowy figure leapt back, its eyes became shadows in the darkness once more. The door flew open and the queen ran into the room, screaming, with her hands outstretched. The figure spun and the blade flashed twice in the darkness. The queen fell, her hands dripping red and her screams were cut short as she coughed and choked, then fell to the floor.
The king appeared in the doorway and rushed toward the shadowy figure, sword in hand. Steel rang against steel and the shadow shifted around, moving quicker than the king and he too was overcome, his throat cut and choking on his lifeblood as he fell to the hard floor, his sword still in his hand. The shadow turned and moved toward him again, but Aaron felt the fire within him burn hotter and hotter, and the figure stumbled away, recoiling from the heat. The fire raged even more, blasting at the shadowy figure, but it ducked and twisted away. There was a loud crack from outside the room, and the sound of voices shouting and the shadow ran to the window and disappeared as the flames filled the room.
Aaron saw two more people appear in the doorway, each of them looking the same, both in the composition of their looks and the horror in their expressions. Stavros raised his hand and called his magic, pushing back the fire while Tarnath ran across the blackened floor knelt down next to the king and queen, who lay next to one another, dark smudges on the floor. He looked up at his brother, his eyes filled with sorrow and tears and Stavros shouted something at him, his expression strained and fearful. Tarnath rose to his feet and walked toward him, then he looked down into the crib and, through the smoke and fire, he gritted his teeth, biting back his tears, and he smiled that same old wry smile that Aaron had always known.
The burning heat subsided and the flames that licked the room quickly died away. Stavros came over to the edge of the crib and while his brother wept openly, he stared down inquisitively at first with a sorrowful frown then he looked over toward the window and something caught his eye. When his gaze returned, his expression burned with anger, and he called his magic once more. Slowly, Aaron felt the icy cold feeling inside of him begin to fade away until it was almost completely gone, then the sensation changed to something else, and the world began to fade away. He saw Stavros turn and say something to Tarnath but he could not make it out for the pain in his head, then the vision disappeared.
Aaron stood in the dark, silent room, gasping. The memory was as vivid as if it had just happened, and there was so much more than he had remembered before. Standing here, in this place, he was almost able to be there when everything had happened, and his thoughts were a mess of confusion.
"What did you see?"
"You didn't see it?"
"They are your memories, Aaron," Stroma replied. "I will not pry into your thoughts, but I am curious if you wish to talk about it."
"I'm not sure," Aaron said, still absorbing everything he had seen.
"It is entirely up to you."
"We should do what we came here for."
Aaron looked around the room and noticed that the window seemed strange. While he could see outside into the dark, cloudy day, its surface appeared to be shifting and moving, almost like a pool of water, and there was a strange light to it as well. He stepped toward it, curious.
"Do not touch that," Stroma said.
"What is it?" Aaron stopped. "It feels like some kind of magic."
"It appears to be a pathway."
"A pathway?"
"It is a way to move to a place that is far away in mere moments, similar to how some mages can travel using their power, but far greater distances, and without requiring any magic. Once, long ago, there were many such pathways, but this one is different."
"What is different about it?"
"If I am not mistaken, this may be a path to another existence."
"Another existence?"
"If this is what I think it is, it might lead to an existence known as Etherium, the place the other gods and I planned to while away eternity when we decided to leave this world."
"Is that where part of you was trapped for all those years, in Etherium?" Aaron asked.
"Not exactly, a part of my essence was caught in a pathway, and much of my power was stolen by Kenra, who had much of his essence trapped the same way."
"So this is how Kenra came back to the world, through one of these pathways?"
"No, the pathways were destroyed, or so I thought. That was why Kenra had to gather his mage priests, to open a portal to Etherium, which opened the pathways as well."
"If the pathways were destroyed, how could you be trapped inside them and how could they be opened?"
"Perhaps it is better to say the entrances to the pathways were destroyed, for the existence between this world and Etherium remained."
"So it was like being trapped in a hallway between rooms."
"Something like that, yes."
"Who destroyed the pathways?"
"Kenra," Stroma said. "It was his part of the oath we made, that he would close the pathways."
"An oath he didn't keep," Aaron commented.
"That he did not," Stroma agreed. "I suppose we were foolish to think that he would honor any promise, for it seems that Kenra only tells the truth in order to build another lie."
"Why did you trust him?"
"I didn't," Stroma said. "And neither did the other gods. We hoped it would work out, that Kenra might honor his part, for it was in his interest to do so, but he did not."
"There is something I have been wondering" Aaron said. "If Kenra was so troublesome in the past, why didn't you and the other gods banish him or destroy him before?"
"We swore a vow, never to fight directly amongst ourselves," Stroma said. "It was the one promise we all agreed upon, and the one promise that even Kenra kept, until he broke it."
"You broke your oath when you tried to kill Ehlena."
"I took her power," Stroma said. "It was the only way."
"How can you say that as though it is something so easy?"
"It was not easy, Aaron, but I made a choice that was greater than myself and greater than any of the gods. If the shadow is not destroyed once and for all, then nothing will matter. And it will take a great amount of power, and just as importantly, the grave resolve to do what must be done. It was very difficult for me to do what I did, for there is so much about Ehlena that is still Ayra to me."
"In the memories that slipped through, I saw the two of you together, from long ago."
"Yes, in the terms of this world, we were married once."
"What changed?"
"The world changed, and we changed with it," Stroma answered and Aaron could tell that he did not want to discuss it further and he turned his focus to the gently flowing pool of energy in the window.
"If the book is in this place called Etherium, must we not go there to retrieve it?" Aaron asked.
"It would not be wise for you to go to such a place, especially since we are not sure if this path even leads there. However, there may be a way to retrieve the book, but you will have to trust me."
"I don't," Aaron said, knowing what Stroma was suggesting, but there did not appear to be any other way to get the book. "I do not trust you Stroma, but I will trust you with this."
"I have no reason to betray you, and this will put both of us at great risk, for I have far less experience than you do at resisting the shadow."
"I thought you would have learned how to deal with the shadow over your nearly endless existence," Aaron said. "You have fought the shadow before, haven't you? "
"Yes, Aaron, but never like this. Those who fell prey to the dark power were destroyed by it, and those of us who recognized what it was did everything in our power to eradicate it."
"And the gods burned the world with truefire."
"It was necessary, and the sooner you see the truth of it, the better."
<
br /> "Do what you need to do to get the book, Stroma," Aaron said. "And be sure not to touch the power that comes from inside me, or we will both be lost."
"Of course," Stroma said, and Aaron felt his weak presence slowly drift throughout his body. He felt the surprise of the god as he truly felt the power that raged deep within him, threatening to flow forth, and the cold, empty hunger of the shadow that grasped for his power. "I do not know how you resist using your power, Aaron."
"I do not want it. I never did," Aaron told him. "I was even willing to give it to you."
"Yes, I know," Stroma said. "It is still strange for me to think in such a way."
"Just get the book," Aaron told him, for he could feel the shadow awakening within him, looking for some way to get at his power.
Stroma drew energy from Aaron's body and focused it toward the window of the room then he pulled the power into itself, creating a kind of vortex of magic. Aaron felt him call out to the book, which felt similar to the way Stroma had shown him how to sense its presence. There was a kind of shift in where the book was, as though it had moved closer, but only a little, and then it stopped, as though it was stuck. Aaron could feel Stroma's frustration and his temptation to use the far greater power deep within him to simply summon the book.
"Careful, Stroma," Aaron reminded him.
"It is truly agony not to use it."
"Yes, it is," Aaron said.
Stroma called the book again, drawing even more power from Aaron's physical form and there was movement and then it stopped again. Aaron felt his teeth clench as Stroma tried harder, and finally, whatever was stopping the book relented and he felt its presence drawing closer. The air in the window began to swirl like a pool liquid and Stroma reached out Aaron's hand as the book appeared, then he suddenly felt himself knocked backwards. In the shock and surprise, Aaron felt Stroma reach for his power. It was a defensive reaction, nothing more, but a dangerous one and Aaron felt the shadow latch onto the essence of the god as Stroma touched his power.
"No!" he yelled inside his thoughts and he pulled Stroma away from it, forcing him back out of his being and into the drifting place in the corners of his essence.
The shadow leapt hungrily toward his power as it rose, bidden by Stroma, and Aaron closed his eyes and focused on nothingness, willing his inner essence to be calm. The power that had welled up inside him slowly subsided and he felt the shadow grasping for it, almost as though it was angry at being denied once more, and he could tell that its power was even greater now, having taken much of what was left of Stroma's essence. Aaron opened his eyes, realizing that the book was in his hand, but that someone was atop him, and he saw a familiar face looking down at him. He shifted the spell he had cast around himself, expanding it slightly, so he could be seen.
"If it isn't my old friend, the young swordsman," the thief said with an odd look on his face as Aaron appeared before him. He let go of the book, rolled off of him and sprung to his feet.
"You must be a very good thief if you were trying to steal this book," Aaron said as he pushed himself up from the floor.
"A very good thief?" Jax smiled. "I am the best there is. And speaking of thieving, I see you no longer have my sword."
"Your sword?"
"Yes, the one I let you take from me that day on the streets. It was a very nice sword, a lot like yours, in fact."
"You let me take it?"
"You don't think you won that little game of swords, do you?" Jax said, shaking his head. "I was going to steal it back from you forthwith, but as you can see I was sidetracked by some other matters."
"Who are you, really?" Aaron asked.
"Who am I?" Jax smiled and then he bowed deeply. "I am the one and only Jax Larian."
The name was familiar to Aaron, not from the time he met him on the streets of Maramyr, but from something out of his memories, and another name echoed in his thoughts.
"Are you related to Dash Larian?" Aaron asked, realizing to whom the eyes he saw in his memory of the shadow belonged, for they were very similar to the ones that looked at him now.
Jax frowned.
"Yes," he said. "Sadly, once upon a time, he was my father."
"Where is he now?" Aaron asked.
"Gone from this world," Jax replied, his gaze hardening. "And that's probably for the best."
Aaron held up the book. "Is that where this book was, with him?"
"You ask a lot of questions," Jax said, looking at him suspiciously, then he changed the subject. "Obviously you were the one that pulled that book here. It's dangerous, you know, especially if you have any magical talent, and I think you do. The way you're holding it, it looks like it's pretty important to you. Tell me, why do you want it so badly?"
"I intend to destroy it," Aaron told him.
"Oh, well then," Jax said with a smile. "Please, by all means, do it. Rid the world of the accursed thing. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Suddenly there was a deep and reverberating crack of power and the walls of the palace began to shake. Aaron let his senses expand outward, sensing what might be causing it, and he knew it was the power of the dark god, angered that he was near but remained hidden.
"If you value your life, get as far away from Maramyr as you can," he told the thief.
"Right then," Jax said and he started for the door, then he stopped and turned. "Oh, I met a friend of yours named Brian, a strapping young fellow, one of Lord Kaleb's men. When I mentioned the story about my sword, he said he knew you."
"Yes," Aaron said. "Brian is a good friend. If you see him, please wish him well for me."
"I'll do that," Jax said. "And when my sword is returned to you, I'd like to opportunity to win it back, in a proper match."
"I will agree to that," Aaron said, in a moment of slight amusement, which was cut short by another reverberating crash.
"No rush, of course" Jax said, patting the sword at his hip. "I have another one just like it."
"Ask him where he got it," Stroma echoed in Aaron's thoughts as the thief turned to leave.
"Where did you get your hands on another godsword?" Aaron asked.
"Godsword? Is that what they're called? They were giving them out at the tournament here in Maramyr. It was a bloody slaughter but the victors each got one, along with a command in the army, a dubious honor I naturally declined, what with being a thief."
"That is disturbing news," Stroma commented. "It seems that the weapons of power have been found."
"You had better go, Jax," Aaron said. "There is a dark and destructive power here and it searches for me."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Jax said, then he cocked his head. "Well, I suppose you just did. Right then, I'll be going."
Jax smiled and waved, then he dashed from the room. As soon as he was gone, Aaron used a little more of the power that remained in his physical self to open the magical pocket where Stroma had placed the other four books and he withdrew them, one by one, placing each copy atop the other. As soon as the last book was placed, the books began to merge together and, after a moment Aaron held only one book in his hand. He flipped the book over and turned it upside down, then he closed his eyes and opened the book, facing its pages away from him. The book almost seemed to vibrate in his hands, and, after a few moments, it finally stopped, and he closed its pages once more.
"It is done," Stroma said, weakly. "The link between Kenra and the book is gone, and all those who were held by the power of the book are now free."
"It was as simple as that," Aaron commented.
"Of course," Stroma said. "The books were meant to be used by the gods, and only they would have been able to break the connection to those who followed them through the magic of the book."
"Yet I was able to break the connection," Aaron said.
"Of course, with all the books combined, you now have the one true book, the original, as it were. I created it and since you have my knowledge of it, you are now its master."
Aaron
held the book up and looked at it. It was such a simple volume, leather bound, nondescript, the sort of book one might walk past on a shelf in a library without giving it so much as a second glance. He turned the book around and flipped it over, then he closed his eyes and opened the book.
"What are you doing, Aaron?" Stroma asked, his tone both confused and concerned, but Aaron ignored him.
The book vibrated in his hands and Aaron felt a strange sensation that reminded him of a boat that was tied to a long line that hung slack in the water, floating just a little ways away. He opened his eyes and the rope pulled taut as the book pulled toward him, as though it wanted to slam right into him, then the book became calm once more and Aaron saw his own reflection appear in the open pages. It was like looking in a mirror, except the pages were like a painted representation of him. Aaron walked over to the window, where the air rippled like water with the magic of the pathway. He held up the book, and looked at it for a moment, then he used nearly the last of the power that remained within him and drew several lines of magic between himself, the book and the pathway, then he created a simple spell around the book and it disappeared.
"You take a great risk, Aaron," Stroma echoed within his thoughts as Aaron turned and walked from the room.
*****
Sitting by the fire, swirling the drink in his latest bottle, the man who was once known as Dash Larian frowned, remembering a life long past. He was not sure which parts of it were real or just things he had dreamt up while in a drunken daze, but no matter how many memories of laughter and smiling faces he tried to recall, they always turned dark. It was his curse that everything he knew would turn to ashes and dust, and he shook his head and closed his eyes tight, trying to shut out the thoughts of darkness. He took another swig from the bottle and felt the warmth of the sweet water burn its way down his throat, and a moment later the waves of welcome fog began to roll in upon him.
