Oblivion's Grasp

by Eric T Knight

  Exhausted, the stolen energy spent, Josef stood. He saw no light, only blackness. He had only one thought in his mind.

  Song.

  He needed more. If he could not nurture the living things he remembered, he would create his own life.

  He turned and walked toward the gates of the estate and, one by one, the massive oak trees tore themselves free of the earth and followed him.

  Forty-six

  Reyna prepared to try again. Trembling with pain and weakness, she summoned the last wisps of stolen Song she still possessed, wrapping it around her hand. Nearby was a faint, twisting flow of raw LifeSong. She forced herself to be patient, watching it, waiting for her opportunity, knowing she only had one left.

  The flow drifted closer.

  She lunged and just managed to catch hold of it.

  It burned. Raw LifeSong was never meant to be touched directly. It flows into a body through the akirma, which acts as a sort of filter, refining it, turning it into Selfsong, the energy which sustains Life.

  Like electricity it sparked through her, arching her back, eliciting involuntary cries of pain. It felt as though she had taken hold of lightning. The raw energy sparked and snapped within her. She fell on her back, heels drumming on the stone floor of the building she lay in, limbs jerking convulsively, the back of her head slamming into the stone floor.

  But she did not let go.

  Biting her lip to hold back the screaming, she pulled herself off the floor, wrapped her other hand in stolen Song—it was the stolen Song that allowed her to touch the flow; without it her hand would merely pass through it—and grabbed the flow. The pain doubled. She staggered but somehow kept her feet, somehow kept pulling herself along the flow as if it were a lifeline and she was caught in a flood.

  Now she saw her true goal: A feeder line.

  Where the flow she held onto was little more than a spider web, the feeder line it was attached to was as big around as her forearm. When she took hold of it she was slammed backwards against the wall, as if she’d been hit by a tidal wave. It poured over her, energy too raw and powerful to be touched by a living body.

  But Reyna was no longer living.

  She screamed again and again, but she did not let go. It was tearing her apart, one piece at a time. She was splitting open. She was already in pieces.

  But still she did not let go.

  She held on and she fought back.

  Gradually, the pain began to ease. Gradually, she began to find how to hold onto the line, to make it serve her.

  And she began to remake herself.

  Forty-seven

  “That was wild,” Tairus said. “When that light turned red and started pulsing, I thought we were all dead. I thought what’s-her-name had turned on us.”

  “I did too,” Rome replied.

  Quyloc was standing nearby, the spear—its haft bare—in his hand. He was staring at the crystal, an unfocused look in his eyes.

  “Then she just melted away,” Tairus said, looking at where Ketora had disappeared. “Nothing left. Not even a stain.” He scratched his stomach. “What happened to T’sim, do you think? Is he dead?” He looked around as if expecting the little man to show up once his name was spoken.

  “I don’t know,” Rome said. Quyloc broke off his stare and walked over to them. “Do you know what happened to T’sim?” Quyloc shook his head. “That’s too bad. I kind of liked the little guy.” It was true. He’d gotten used to having him around. As servants went, he wasn’t half bad. Mentally he thanked T’sim for his sacrifice. He certainly hadn’t had to do it.

  “Well, if it keeps the Children out, it’s worth it.” Tairus looked up at the shimmering orange dome overhead. “You think it’ll hold them out?”

  “You heard them yelling,” Rome said, breaking out of his thoughts about T’sim. “They didn’t sound too happy about it. Let’s go take a look.”

  The three men climbed the wall and looked down. The Children were still visible through the shield, though they were hazy and tinged orange. The shield came down directly on the outside of the wall. All the soldiers on the wall were silent, all wondering what would happen next. On the palace grounds, people stared upwards, waiting, watching.

  Heram was the first to approach the shield. He wound up and struck it a mighty, two-handed blow.

  There was a concussion, felt more than heard, and Heram was thrown backward. The shield showed no signs of weakening.

  The soldiers burst into cheers. The cheers were picked up by the people down below. They hugged and cried and slapped each other on the back.

  “It’s about time some chips fell our way,” Tairus said, a huge smile on his face.

  Rome nodded, so overcome with relief that at first he didn’t trust his voice. He turned to Quyloc and saw an uncharacteristic smile there.

  “We did it,” he said.

  Quyloc nodded and his smile faded. “We bought some time. There’s no way to know how much.”

  “Oh, would you just leave off!” Tairus cried. “Don’t be such a dead dog. We finally won a victory. Just enjoy it already.”

  “I’m only pointing out that we have only—”

  “Leave off, Quyloc,” Rome said, cutting him off. “Everyone needs this. I know I need it. I bet you need it too.”

  Quyloc gave him an unreadable look, then nodded. Suddenly, surprisingly, he admitted, “I’m tired. No, I’m exhausted. A break will be good. Maybe we will yet find a way.” A thought occurred to him then and he added, “Maybe the young Tender will succeed.”

  “What young Tender? What are you talking about?”

  “The one who arrived with the big warrior. Netra.”

  Rome looked around. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen them all day. Where are they?”

  “They’re gone.”

  “Gone? Where would they go?”

  “To the prison.”

  At first Rome thought he heard him wrong. It was loud, what with all the cheering going on. “They’re where? How did they get there?”

  “I took them. Last night. We went along the border of the Pente Akka, the same way you and I went to attack Melekath.”

  “And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me?”

  “I thought it was important enough to make the decision and make it fast. Besides, my advice to you would have been to let them go and I’ve noticed that you started listening to my advice lately so why wake you up and bother you when you probably needed the sleep?”

  “Okay,” Rome grumbled. “If you thought it was that important. Am I allowed to at least ask why they wanted to go to the prison?”

  “To find Melekath.”

  “Of course. It makes perfect sense now. Who wouldn’t want to go to the prison and find Melekath? Were they just planning on joining him for a picnic?”

  “Do you want real answers from me or do you want to act like a child?”

  Rome started as if he’d been slapped. He looked around, but no one else seemed to have heard. All of them, including Tairus, were too busy celebrating. “I am your macht, you know,” he growled.

  Quyloc opened his mouth to say something, then closed it abruptly. He rubbed his eyes. “I apologize, Rome. As I said before, I’m exhausted.”

  Rome took a deep breath. “It’s nothing. Now, would you mind telling me why they went there?”

  “She had the idea that maybe Melekath could be talked into undoing the Gift.” To Rome’s blank look he added, “The Gift is what makes them immortal. But if Melekath can undo the Gift, if she can somehow convince him to do so, then they’d be mortal again.”

  “But why would he do that? They’re his Children, right?”

  “They turned on him after we attacked him. He’s seen what they’ve become. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe it isn’t. But it’s something and we have precious little of that.”

  “You’re right,” Rome said. “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. There’s not much they can do here—though
it would have been nice to have the big guy when we went into the Tower—and out there they just might be able to save us all.”

  “It is still highly unlikely.”

  Rome smiled. It felt good to smile again. He slapped Quyloc on the shoulder and smiled even broader when Quyloc’s face tightened as he did so. He knew how much Quyloc hated when he did that. “Highly unlikely looks pretty good from where I’m standing right now, old friend. It’s a far sight better than no chance at all.”

  “You better get up here, Rome!” Tairus called from the top of the wall.

  Rome cursed as he ran for the stairs. Somehow he’d just known their respite was too good to be true.

  Even expecting the worst as he was, he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him when he got to the top of the wall.

  “Just when you think you’ve seen everything,” Tairus said.

  “Are those really trees?”

  “They used to be. I don’t know what to call them now.”

  Rome turned to Nicandro, who’d followed him up onto the wall. “Get Quyloc up here. Fast.” Nicandro took off at a run. Before Nicandro even got off the wall one of the front doors of the palace opened and Quyloc came out. He ran to the wall and climbed it.

  “What do you think?” Rome asked him when he got there.

  Four huge trees, their trunks and limbs blackened and twisted, their leaves gone, were making their way across the boulevard toward the wall. Thick roots splayed in all directions around the trees. The ones nearest the wall skittered across the cobblestones, reaching as far as they could. Then they dug in, wooden fingers that pushed easily through the gaps between the cobblestones and dug into the soil underneath. The roots contracted, drawing the trees closer.

  “They are following him,” Quyloc said, pointing.

  In front of the trees was a man. He had not grown huge like the other Children. The Song he’d stolen had not gone into bizarre growth. He was skeletally lean, his skin still completely gray. He walked hunched over, his spine bent by some long-ago injury. Bad as he looked, he was clearly not weak. There was on his face a look of savage determination that was truly chilling. His was a focused madness that the other Children lacked.

  “I don’t like the looks of this,” Tairus said. “If only we could set those things on fire.” Which they couldn’t. The shield wasn’t just impervious to the Children’s attacks; it was impervious from their side as well. Soon after it was erected, a soldier had thrust his spear into it. The concussion shattered his spear and nearly knocked him off the wall. No one had made any attempts since.

  “They’re just trees, whatever he did to make them move like that,” Rome said. “They won’t have any more luck getting through the shield than anything else.” He turned to Quyloc. “Right, Quyloc?”

  Quyloc was holding the rendspear, staring at the trees with that distant look he got.

  “Right, Quyloc?” Rome repeated. There was something really unnerving about those trees. He needed Quyloc to tell him he was overreacting. “They’re still just trees, aren’t they?”

  Quyloc shook his head a moment later and glanced at Rome. “They’re not still just trees. He’s done something to them, something truly unbelievable.” He almost sounded impressed by it.

  “You’re not helping,” Rome said.

  “But no, I don’t think they will be able to get through the shield. It is powered by Stone force. I don’t know what power there is that could smash through it, but I don’t believe those trees possess it.”

  Rome breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Did you hear that, Tairus? Nothing to worry about.”

  “Sure, Rome. Whatever you say.” Tairus’ gaze was fixed on the trees.

  “You worry too much, you know that?”

  Then Tairus did look at him. “Strange monster trees are dragging themselves across the street to attack us. You see that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think I don’t worry enough,” Tairus grumbled, and turned back to watch the trees again. “I should have taken up farming,” he said under his breath. “Somewhere far away from cities and kings and monster-damned-trees.”

  The hunched man reached the shield directly below where Rome stood and tilted his head back, staring up at it. Even from here, Rome could see the man’s eyes glittering as he surveyed the shield. His unease returned in full force.

  The trees reached the shield and stopped, the four of them making a semicircle around the hunched man. He gestured and one of them reached a limb toward the shield. The limb touched the shield, there was a loud pop and the limb jerked back, smoke rising from it. Scattered cheers came from the watching soldiers.

  The hunched man gestured again and a thick limb reached down to him. It encircled his waist and lifted him into the air. As he rose up, the soldiers nearby all stepped back. Rome had to resist the urge to do the same. There was no need to be afraid, he told himself. No way the man could get through the shield.

  When the man was at eye level, Rome said to him, “It’s not going to work, whatever you think you’re doing. So why don’t you take your new friends and go away? Why not go throw yourself off the cliff into the sea?”

  The man’s eyes flicked to Rome for the briefest instant and then away. He didn’t look at any of the soldiers. He was looking past them. Rome turned, wondering what he was looking at. Quyloc and Tairus turned as well.

  It was Quyloc who realized it first.

  “He’s looking at the relif crystal.”

  He was right. The hunched man stared steadily at it, his head cocked slightly to one side. Tairus muttered under his breath. Rome clenched his fists, a growing sickness inside him.

  “Still,” he said to Quyloc, “there’s nothing he can do, right? So he knows about the crystal. He can’t get through the shield.”

  Quyloc didn’t answer at first. He was looking at the crystal, his expression one of deep concentration.

  Rome knew that look. His old friend was on the verge of figuring something out, something everyone else was missing. “What is it?” he hissed.

  “The shield,” Quyloc replied. “Does it extend underground?”

  Forty-eight

  There was an odd crunching sound behind Rome and he spun. It was coming from the base of the wall. He looked down. The roots of the tree that was holding the hunched man were boring into the ground like thick, gnarled worms.

  “No,” Tairus moaned. “It can’t be. It just can’t.”

  “Down off the wall!” Rome yelled. “Now!”

  The soldiers began running for the stairs. Rome stayed, watching. He could have sworn he felt the roots digging through the ground underneath him, though that was surely impossible. What was the man doing? Even if the roots made it all the way to the crystal, touching it would burn them just as touching the shield had. There was nothing to worry about.

  A minute later dozens of roots broke from the ground in a circle around the relif crystal, tilting slabs of flagstone up and back. They converged on the crystal from all sides, then swarmed up over it. There was a series of sizzles and sharp pops. Most of the roots burst into flames. But they did not pull back.

  The roots flexed and the crystal tilted.

  The beam of light shooting upwards from the crystal stuttered.

  With a convulsive heave the roots pulled the crystal underground.

  The beam of light disappeared.

  Rome spun. Now the hunched man was looking at him. There was something truly terrifying in those dead, empty eyes.

  The shield died.

  From the Children came a shout of glee.

  The limbs of the four trees snaked forward and fanned out across the face of the wall, moving with frightening speed. They pushed into the stone like it was so much butter.

  Rome turned and ran.

  Rome was halfway down the stairs when a limb suddenly poked through the stone at his feet. He caught his foot on it, stumbled and had to grab the wall to catch himself. He jerked his hand away fro
m the wall as more limbs came snaking through. He had to jump down the last couple of steps as they split apart underneath him.

  He hit the ground, rolled, and came to his feet. He turned and looked up at the wall.

  Myriad roots and limbs seethed across its surface.

  Huge chunks of stone began to fall from the top. The wall groaned and cracks appeared everywhere. More chunks of stone fell.

  Rome drew his axe and stepped back. It seemed horribly inadequate after using the black axe for so long.

  “Soldiers! To me!” he yelled. It was hopeless. There was no way they could hold once the wall fell, but he was not going down without a fight. Bonnie and their unborn child flashed through his mind and he whispered a silent goodbye to them.

  Soldiers ran and began forming up on either side of him, weapons drawn.

  The wall came down.

  Dust filled the air, killing visibility and making breathing difficult. From out of the dust cloud loomed one of the trees, holding the hunched man up high, his features stretched in a savage grimace. He looked down on the soldiers gathered before him and gestured. Tree limbs shot out. Two soldiers were snatched up and lifted high into the air. The limbs tightened and the soldiers were crushed. Their lifeless bodies were flung into the midst of the defenders.

  Another gesture and the limbs came at them again. One struck at Rome, but he was ready for it. He swung his axe, timed it just right, and cut through the limb, then ducked as the stump swung at his head. The soldier to his right wasn’t fast enough and he grunted as the limb caught him in the ribs and sent him flying.

  The dust began to settle and through the gloom Rome saw Heram leap to the top of the pile of shattered stone. His eyes gleamed fever bright. Immediately after him appeared a half dozen more of the Children, all of them huge, all of them wild-eyed with excitement. They knew that at last Qarath was theirs. There was nowhere left for the defenders to run. No more walls to hide behind.