Into The Abyss (Demons of Astlan)

by Langland, J.

  Edwyrd was being consumed, his body dissipating beneath the flame, but not by burning. It was as if his body were being systematically superimposed upon by, or replaced by, orange and yellow flames. Piece by piece, from the outside in, flame roared and lashed over Edwyrd's naked frame. Within moments, Maelen couldn't even see the pink flesh beneath the flame. Only fire was present.

  Fire in human form. Edwyrd's shape was perfectly formed out of flame. Here and there small bursts and rolls of flame coruscated up and down his body, but in all it was as if there was a man made out of fire on the deck. "The Living Flame!" Maelen whispered to himself. He was literally shocked.

  He hadn't seen the Living Flame performed in ten years. It was at the Conclave in Rasparta. The Living Flame was the final test for an animage wishing to earn the title of Pyromaster. The aspirant proved his or her worthiness for the title by literally transmogrifying themselves into elemental flame. True union, the Living Flame was the ultimate joining of Anima and the Element of Fire. Maelen really hadn't expected this.

  The enemy wizard was once again releasing a spell however. This time a large jagged bolt or spear of ice was flying across the water like a javelin. This time, however, Gastropé was back on his feet. Jenn was at his side, madly they were shouting something in unison. Suddenly from their two outstretched hands came a blast of lightning, bigger than any the two had achieved separately. The bolt streaked across to the ice javelin, even as it reached the midpoint of its arc of flight.

  Crash...Boom!

  The bolt exploded into thousands of tiny shards, some of which pelted people on the decks of both ships. Gastropé and Jenn, however, had apparently used the last of their energy in a desperate attempt to stop the bolt. Both seemed to collapse unconscious, together in a heap on the deck. Maelen sent a quick probe out to them to assure himself that it was only normal mana reserve depletion from spell casting and not anything that required his assistance.

  Maelen quickly began to attend to the few sailors wounded by the ice shrapnel. As he did so, he returned his ever more divided attention to Edwyrd. He had to admit once again that he was impressed by these youngsters. That last bit of spellmanship from Gastropé and Jenn was highly unexpected, and surprisingly effective. Further, even if pyromastery was the only discipline Edwyrd, this student, who “just managed to get by”, knew, he was still an animage worthy of the name. However, even so, Maelen wasn't sure what good the Living Flame would do. While his body was now flame and could do damage to whatever it touched, there was still several hundred feet of water between Edwyrd and the wizard.

  Maelen didn't have to wait for the answer, even as the question formed, Edwyrd proceeded to answer it. Edwyrd's flames grew brighter and brighter, racing up and down his flame body. Almost majestically his outstretched arm of flame began to lengthen. In cycling jets, the flames of his arm shot outward farther and farther. First racing out, then retreating slightly, but not completely. Seemingly slowly, but in reality, quite quickly Maelen was sure, Edwyrd's flame bridged the distance between the two ships.

  As Edwyrd's flames began to lick the edges of the ship, causing a worried scurrying among the crew, the big wizard quickly aborted whatever spell he'd been casting and switched. Suddenly white flames dashed out from the wizard's hand, blocking the progress of Edwyrd's arm. As Edwyrd's flame broke upon the white-cold flames of the wizard, they began to mushroom out and around. The wizard's cold shield expanded horizontally and vertically to cover it.

  Maelen was once again more than impressed. Most aspirants to the title of pyromastery could never do what Edwyrd had just done. While it took great skill to assume the Living Flame, extending it that far across water, its diametrically opposed element, would take almost half again the training and skill.

  Edwyrd's flames continued to beat upon the cold shield. The cold shield, though, remained firm. Edwyrd began to pulse harder, sending ever increasing waves of flame, soaring in a continuous stream across the water. Maelen blinked suddenly realizing the problem. Edwyrd had so far contained his flame so that he did no damage to the deck or rail beneath and beside him. As he escalated his flame, that was no longer the case. Maelen shouted.

  Rupert who was standing near the wheel and the captain, who was on his knees at this point, heard Maelen and realized the problem. Quickly Rupert dashed up to Edwyrd, nearly touching the flames themselves. Maelen decided then and there that that child had no common sense of danger what so ever. Given the heat, that even Maelen could feel it from midship, radiating from Edwyrd, it should have been unbearable for the child. Nonetheless he was shouting in Edwyrd's ear.

  Suddenly Edwyrd's flame's flickered as he realized what Rupert was saying and tried to compensate. His flames flickered and for an instant seemed about to go out. Within less than a second they reappeared in full strength as Rupert backed away to stand safely behind Edwyrd. The deck, while slightly blackened, no longer seemed to be charring. Edwyrd's flames reached back in full force against the wizard.

  The waves of intensified flame became stronger and stronger, faster and faster. Maelen projected his sight over to the other ship to observe the wizards. The stronger wizard who was maintaining the cold shield was beginning to sweat with exertion. He was motioning something to the younger wizard, who was once again on his feet. Before Maelen realized what was happening to shout a warning, the younger wizard stepped out from the side of the cold shield and fired off a lightning bolt larger than anything he'd cast previously. The bolt streaked right for Edwyrd even as Maelen yelled.

  As he yelled, Maelen realized it was pointless. Edwyrd was pure flame, lightning couldn't affect him. Especially since lightning was simply another Aspect of the Element of Fire, even as Edwyrd was at the moment. Maelen's relief was short lived, however. The bolt did pass right through Edwyrd, but Rupert was standing behind him!

  Rupert screamed heart-wrenchingly as the bolt struck him in the chest. While not quite as powerful as the bolt that had struck Edwyrd, Rupert was enough smaller of a target for the discharge that the effect was similar. Due to the angle this time, however, Rupert's electrified and glowing body was knocked backward into the wheel and then bounced off and around.

  Apparently, Edwyrd heard the scream and turned to see Rupert's body go careening off the wheel. Once again his flame nearly died. However this time, Edwyrd roared, extremely loudly. Suddenly, the Living Flame that was Edwyrd nearly doubled in size and breadth. The arm of flame across the water was no more, but a living giant of pure flame stood upon the deck of the ship. Slowly the giant of fire seemed to be growing a large cloak around it. It took a moment for Maelen to realize that it wasn't a cloak though! They were giant pinions, wings! No longer was there a flaming giant on the deck, but rather now an angel made of flame, a living Avatar of Fire. Essentially an intelligent Fire Elemental!

  The Avatar of Fire spread its wings and rose into the sky. As it did so, it shrieked blasts of flame that rocketed across the water to the enemy ship. Frantically the two enemy wizards tried to douse the flames with limited success. Suddenly, however, the flame that was Edwyrd turned blue-white. Arcs of blue-white flame streaked across the gap between the ship and the Avatar of Fire. The more powerful wizard flung up his cold shield. The shield however, lasted but a few moments before the onslaught of blue-white flame, then collapsed. Down streaked the blue-white flame, striking the wizard full in the chest.

  Fire exploded on the enemy vessel all around the wizard. The blue flame continued for several seconds pounding on the wizard. The wizard's last line of defenses gave and suddenly he began to burn, charring. Charring even faster than the body of little Rupert had from the lightning. The wizard's body crumbled to ash as the flames continued to sweep the deck. Within moments the entire ship was a single huge bonfire.

  As the ship became completely engulfed in flame, the Avatar of Fire flickered. Its flames went back to yellow, then to orange and finally red. At that point it seemed to lose all energy and fell from the sky. It plummeted like a rock to
crash into the sea, raising a great cloud of steam.

  Animages

  Curriculum Vitae: College of Wizardry

  University of the Council States

  As everyone most likely knows, animages as a profession are neither well known nor extremely common. This is due to a wide variety of facts, including the fact that the term animage is met with uneasiness and trepidation in many parts, and even fear in others. Why this should be so is unclear, but many feel that in large part it is due to the fact that many animages are rumored to be able to read and control minds. Things that Sorcerers and Enchanters may also do, but which, nonetheless, animages have gotten a bad reputation for. These beliefs in the invasion of mental privacy have made many uneasy.

  These paranoid beliefs in fact have led to a rather strong code of ethics about this very thing, subscribed to by most animages and instilled in almost all pupils. Nonetheless, the rumors still persist. For the sake of literary honesty, historians hint that there may have been cause for such trepidation a long time ago, before the ethics were enforced. Certainly legends of the rule of the Anilords and their elite forces the Time Warriors still instill terror in young children everywhere. Such fears are not helped by periodic resurgence in rumors about mad mentalists and the supposed Twenty First discipline. Fortunately, there is no such discipline and the few remaining organized animage groups do much to publicize this fact.

  Regardless of the reason for such fears, the fact remains, the number of individuals actually referring to themselves as animage is pointedly few. Almost no schools referring to themselves as such exist in the world today. This not to say none such exist, rather none exist under that name. The great animages of legend are thought to be true liberal scholars, rather mixing and matching disciplines as a matter of personal interest, and being fairly well versed in all of them, regardless of the sacrifice in power this cost them by not concentrating in only a few disciplines. As stated, such 'true animages' today are few. Due to the lack of schools, all known such animages are generally taught by a single master with a single pupil as they wander the countryside, or live in a tower or whatever. Naturally having only one teacher does not give a truly liberal education, thus most eventually leave to seek other masters or try and teach themselves.

  If there are few such 'true animages,' and this an admittedly annoyingly vague term, where are the rest? These other animages are not actually uncommon; they just go by other names. The names they go by are generally representative of their specialization. Common animage specializations often thought of by laymen as separate professions include Seers, Elementalists, Summoners, Mentalists (or any other of a dozen pseudonyms), Healers and the now extinct Time Warriors.

  Of these other 'subprofessions,' most actually do have schools here and there, especially the Healers and Elementalists. The Summoners occasionally do, and while there are Seer schools, Seeing is most often taught on a one to one basis with a single master, like traditional animages.

  Mentalists or whatever they may call themselves in different countries to avoid suspicion, do infrequently have schools, or temples, but are also just as often outlawed altogether.

  There are no Time Warriors left alive, as far as any one knows, but given the very nature of their disciplines, they may only be on hiatus.

  Anilords

  Curriculum Historia: College of History

  University of the Council States

  No term inspires more sheer terror than the term "Anilord." The last of the Anilords were slain over one thousand years ago. Unfortunately, knowledge of exactly who they were and what they were capable of largely died with them, at least from a scholarly perspective. All that remains are the myths and legends of these beings, most of which have been tailored to frighten children.

  What scholars do know, is that a little over 1900 years ago, the Council of Anilords, made up entirely of animages and proto-wizards, overthrew the Council of Magi, the ruling body of the two continents of Norelon and Eton. This new body ruled the two continents with a black iron fist of terror for nearly a thousand years. Between their elite Time Warriors who could bend the very forces of time around themselves, and the dreaded "Mind Reavers," capable of splitting a sentient being's mind apart like an onion, there was little opposition to their reign.

  One clear distinction is that there was no such thing as modern wizardry as we know it today. Wizardry as we know it was actually a sub-discipline of Animastery. In fact, what few surviving treatises we have from the time of the Anilords refer to wizardry as "crude mana engineering."

  Modern wizardry is an outgrowth and extension of this "mana engineering" that came about as an effort to codify the knowledge of the animages, and make it safer and more accessible. Politically, its promulgation among the magi and the churches was also, in part, to help ensure that the abuses of the Anilords would not be repeated.

  Chapter 54

  Talarius watched the oily black clouds of smoke twist their way skyward, as if in some macabre dance, harshly outlined against the dark grey overcast of the sky. Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-seven sickly black pillars of smoke, each unique. Unique like the beings who made them. He brought his eyes down to the source of the smoky trails. Twenty-seven pyres, one for each of the villagers who'd succumbed.

  Talarius grimly watched the scene. Dimly making out the barely visible gyrations performed by the agonized figures, hidden by the flames and smoke of their own living funeral pyres, moaning and pleading for release upon their stakes. Talarius blinked as a particularly pungent curl of black smoke licked at his eyes. He wanted to close his eyes. Wanted to shut out the grisly scene from hell. He forced himself to watch. Watch his own work.

  The sight of each blazing bier, containing some former villager, some man, woman or child, bringing back painful memories. Memories he'd rather forget. Memories he would never forget. He hated this. Tiernon knew he hated this. Situations like this were what made him question his vocation. Situations like this, that in the end, always reaffirmed it.

  If only this was the plague he was dealing with. The plague might be more frightening in the minds of many, but at least the plague killed its victims. Bubonic plague cast a long dark shadow over many lands, bringing death to thousands. Death, clean and simple. Death with the chance of reward or punishment. Death, something final. Not this. Not the unending hunger that these poor souls were damned to. Not the lifelong agony and unholy thirst that would drive men and women to perform actions otherwise unthinkable, in order to survive.

  For that's what it eventually came down to. Survival. Survival at any cost. Survival and temporary surcease of the agony. Any cost, even that of cannibalism, even that of one's immortal soul. Talarius allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment, remembering. Melissance...he forced his eyes open, forced the memories back.

  No cost was worth that. Better to die. Die, burnt at the stake than to be forced to eat the living flesh of others in order to survive. Better to die than to risk passing on the disease. Die early, before the weight of sin dragged what little was left of one's soul down to the depths of the Abyss for all eternity. Hopefully, by dying now, even unshriven, these poor souls might, just barely, escape damnation in the sight of their respective gods. Talarius prayed to Tiernon it might be so. Prayed as he had every night for twelve incredibly long years.

  Many of the figures had ceased their moaning. Succumbing at last to the cleansing flame. Succumbing to the flame even as they'd succumbed to the foul creatures that had done this to them. Talarius gritted his teeth. If only, if only Sir Etrian hadn't failed. Failed in his test of faith. If only he hadn't succumbed to the lure of damnable immortality. If only he hadn't given in. If he hadn't failed in this test, then the foul bloodsucking creature of the night would have been stopped sooner. Perhaps stopped before any more victims had fallen to their half-finished attacks.

  Half-finished, if the vampire didn't completely kill its victim, or lead it into damnation, this was what was left. Victims half d
ead, knowing their state, hating every moment of it. Hating the all-consuming agony in their bodies that drove them to seek the living flesh of others to try and ease their own half-dead state. Trying to bring a little more life into their drained bodies. It never worked. Not for long. Oh, they could appease the hunger for short whiles, have a few moments of respite, but the hunger would return, they would be forced to prowl again.

  To rend, to tear the very living flesh of friends, family, strangers, any living being they could find. All to digest a little bit of that person's vitality to prop up their own beleaguered state. Not just blood, like a vampire. Their systems weren't refined enough for that. No, ghouls needed the flesh and needed it in greater quantities. Talarius had seen that early on in his life. No, he would not dwell in the past. She was gone. Gone as these poor wretches.

  Talarius was sure it was the acrid smoke causing his eyes to water. He couldn't let himself pity these few remaining writhing individuals. Their fate was unkind, but so much better than if they'd been allowed to continue in their hellish state. Etrian, Talarius cursed the man. He knew it was wrong of him to pass judgment on other people. Etrian however, had given up that claim. Given it up when he'd renounced all he stood for as a Knight of Tiernon when he'd sold his soul to that blood sucking fiend.

  Talarius cursed Etrian now as he'd been unable to when he drove the stake through the former knight's heart. Then he'd only been doing his job. No curses, no remorse at the loss of a friend. Only a job. Only knowing that his fellow knight would never experience Tiernon's reward, but would at least be spared too great a weight of sin in whatever afterlife there might be for the truly damned. With vampires, there probably wasn't even damnation. From the effects of their passing, Talarius had to suspect that they simply ceased. Whatever life force they had simply dispersing into nature.