Oblivion: Part Five of the Redemption Cycle

by J. R. Lawrence

  Rollon looked up at the branches over their heads, and the many shining stars between. He smiled deep down, pleased to finally have something to backup his claims against Neth’tek and Dril’ead Vulzdagg. Perhaps this could actually run them out of Evenstar, if enough of the people were persuaded to join his cause.

  “That’s enough,” Rollon said, and he laid a hand on Jerem’s shoulder.

  But Jerem put out his hand, the palm extended toward him. “You owe me for that, Rollon,” he said bitterly, his voice tasting sour as he spoke.

  Rollon smiled. “Of course,” he said, and dropped the coin pouch into his hand.

  Taking his lamp, Rollon departed his own way, and Jerem his. The young man took his dagger out like before, and hurried back to the homestead that was his on the outskirts of the town square.

  A shadow followed him.

  Dril’ead missed the brief meeting, but was able to glimpse the faces of the two of them from the shadows of the trees that their lamps had cast. He knew Rollon’s reputation among the people for being a counterfeit, using money and sly words to convince others to support him but receive nothing for it in the end. Not even gratitude. It was well known of the mans dislike of him and Neth’tek, and that’s what unsettled him the most.

  With the coming events, this meeting could have only meant bad news. Jerem had been at Rorxal’s home and had witnessed firsthand what had happened there.

  The baron will not be happy to learn of this meeting, he thought. It’d be best to not reprimand the man myself, but allow the higher authority to. However, there may be more about him that I could learn.

  He slipped from his hiding place and made his way along behind Jerem, staying just out of the reach of his lamplight. Although man jumped many times at odd sounds or his own imagination, he did not completely expect to have been followed. On reaching his home, he put out the lamp before stepping inside, and it was apparent that he was attempting to make it seem to the other occupants of the house that he had never left.

  Dril waited outside, watching his window. There was no light, save for that of the moon, but with the infrared vision of his heritage he was able to detect the young man sitting up beside the window, unable to sleep.

  I should speak to the boy, he thought. After all, he betrayed mine and Neth’tek’s trust to that man.

  And then suddenly from the pits of the nighttime shadows there came a shriek, long and high and echoing off the canyons, making even Dril’ead shiver to the bones. He spun about, half drawing a sword from its scabbard as he looked away in the direction that it had come from, though it was now echoing throughout the valley as if from all directions. But he was certain, for he had heard and been listening with his keen senses.

  “That is the sound of a demon,” he whispered to his own unsettled conscious.

  14

  In the Well

  A crowd was already gathered in the street when Neth’tek stepped out of the tavern, still buckling his sword belt around his waist. They made their way toward the barons keep in the center of the town square, shouting at the guards who attempted to maintain the chaos that was escalating by the minute. Looking up, though, Neth’tek could see the baron already standing on the steps of the keep, a score of guards surrounding him from below to keep them back from crowding round him.

  Pushing through, Neth’tek jogged ahead of the host of townspeople. He waved to the baron, and Guldar made his guards stand aside to let him through to speak with him.

  “Neth’tek! Thank the Beloved! Maybe you can shed some light on what is happening?” said Guldar.

  “Did you not hear what we’ve all heard?” Neth’tek said, pointing at the mountains, “It was a thing unheard of in this land!”

  “I heard it,” Guldar replied, “but I do not know what it was. And here these people come to ask me, and I have no answer.” He looked very stern as he watched the crowd come round his keep.

  “Well, when I awoke Dril’ead was already gone,” Neth’tek said. “He’d know what to do, but... I fear he may already be out there, looking for the thing.”

  “Then may Muari be with him,” Guldar said.

  The people came about the footsteps of the keep, only held back by the guards posted there. They shouted all at once, so many voices intermixing with one another it was impossible to distinguish one word from another. So many faces, angry fathers and mothers still holding their children in their arms, comforting them as they tried desperately to get the truth from their leader.

  Neth’tek watched them with pity. So this is what the enemy wants of us, he thought with realization. Panic and fear, something that feeds the shadows their strength and dominion over us.

  “One at a time, please!” the baron called out, trying to bring some measure of order to the chaos. “One at a time! One at a time! I cannot help all of you at once, so one at a time!”

  Realizing this, the crowd slowly died down until the majority of them were silent. Still some shouted at the baron, questions and accusations alike. Neth’tek heard one of them say “Rollon was right all along! The Fallen bring chaos to this valley!” and his heart sunk in his chest, making him look away from the crowd altogether.

  Perhaps they’re right, he thought. After all, these monsters have been after me all along.

  “I’m trying to get to the bottom of this even as we speak, so please bear with me!” Guldar was saying when Neth’tek came back from his thoughts.

  “Someone should be sent out there to destroy whatever it is that is out there!” someone said.

  “I cannot spare the men at this moment,” Guldar said in response. “I cannot risk our good men to go out into the unknown and see to this thing. I feel that we must stick together through this night, focus our prayers to the Beloved and the First Born. Only with faith can we make it out of this.”

  “Demons can’t be held behind walls of prayer, good lord,” said a voice that was all too familiar to Neth’tek, and the speaker pushed through to the front of the crowd and looked at him with a mischievous smirk on his face. It was Rollon. “Listen to your people, baron. They’re afraid. They need a hero to rise up and take this thing down, someone like the baron before you.”

  Guldar scowled at the man. “Manage your own people, Rollon, and let me manage mine,” he said in response.

  “But why not send someone out there to investigate this thing?” Rollon asked, his tone leading. “The Fallen have experience with the likes of demons and such monsters, having lived with them as companions and friends in their unholy world below.”

  “I will not warn you again, Rollon. Step back,” Guldar commanded the man, his tone threatening.

  Both angry and sorrowful, Neth’tek put out his hand to stop any further words between them. “No,” he said, “there might be some good sense in this thing. My brother might already be out there, and I feel that it would be best if I go and help him if he is.”

  “But, Neth’tek, are you sure?” Guldar said, taking his arm in one hand as he looked at him pleadingly. In a whisper he added, “Don’t do this just because of this mans plight against you and your brother, please.”

  “I’m certain,” Neth’tek replied, and pulled out of the barons hold. “And I do this because it is best for the people, baron.”

  “May Muari guide you, then,” said Guldar, and he raised a hand to bid him farewell.

  Neth’tek turned and started away without further words, although he glanced at Rollon as he passed him. The man was grinning at him, his eyes full of greed.

  I’ll deal with you when I return, Neth’tek promised himself.

  *****

  He kept his hand on his satchel as he walked briskly through the woods, the night still black as midnight, though his thoughts were straying to deep places in his mind. He was fighting back the hatred that was slowly building against the man Rollon, a feeling he had felt only once before with the Urden’Dagg. He knew all too well that such a feeling, even a cause like hatred, could lead him to ultimate pai
n and suffering. It had taken him nearly a decade to recover from it, to flush the emotions from his mind after that dreadful war with the Adya. He wouldn’t risk such pain again.

  Beside him walked a green light, the spirit being of Ezila, his constant companion during his journeys on this world. He didn’t expect to see her now, but it made sense and did not surprise him in the least.

  “What do you expect to prove to Rollon if you do defeat the evil you face?” Ezila asked him.

  “I’m helping Dril’ead, wherever he may be.” Neth’tek did not look at her, and his voice sounded dull.

  “You and I both know that Dril’ead can handle himself in this regard,” Ezila replied. “You go because you feel – no, because you’re afraid that the people see you and him as the enemy, rather than this thing that hunts you.”

  Neth’tek was quiet for a moment, his head down as he walked with even strides. “Yes, I do fear that,” he said at last. “I’m not afraid to admit to my fears anymore, Ezila. I’m afraid of being shut out of this land, of losing my only home. After all, I’ve fought so hard and tried all these years to get here, and here I am still fighting.”

  “You will find your peace, child,” Ezila said evenly. “That is all that is certain. Someday you will return home, and there will be no more battles for you to fight.”

  “You speak of death,” Neth’tek remarked. “I’ve learned already that with every sunrise there is a shadow cast on some place in this world, and where there are shadows there are evil things brooding. Evil is eternal.”

  “Perhaps I am speaking of death,” said Ezila, “but do not for one moment think that evil will never die. Death is mortal just as you and I are. It has a beginning, and so it must have an end. And when that end comes, all the world will be free of evil, for it shall cease to exist.”

  Neth’tek stopped walking and looked at the spirit now, his expression puzzled. “Mortal?” he asked, “You mean to tell me you can die just like me?”

  “Does this trouble you?” Ezila asked.

  “I... I thought you were but a spirit?”

  “I am no ghost, Neth’tek Vulzdagg,” she replied, “but I am one with Muari. When the end comes, and I believe it is drawing nigh, I will be gone for my purpose shall be fulfilled.”

  Neth’tek scowled. “Where will you go?” he demanded, his tone uncertain.

  “Someplace far away, where the mountains touch the stars, and the sun and the moon rest upon their snowcapped peaks. But come now, it is of no importance at this time. The Ulchar has come to settle in this valley, and there will be no end to the chaos it will create unless you destroy it.” She started walking again, leaving Neth’tek to ponder the truth behind her words.

  He started after her, though he walked slowly and more carefully than before.

  Without realizing it, Ezila had led him to a house farthest from the borders of Evenstar. Its windows were black and the whole cottage appeared abandoned. Behind them Neth’tek heard someone trudging through the snow, and turning round he saw Dril’ead come into the light of the moon that was still high overhead.

  “Dril’ead, what is going on?” Neth’tek asked him.

  Dril said nothing but approached the door of the cottage, and slowly opened it. From what they could discern from the pale moonlight that filtered in through the open door and two windows, the contents of the house were pulled from wherever they had been stored and strewn all over the floor. However, there was no blood or sign of the occupants of the house.

  Dril grunted in understanding.

  “A mother and her child lived here, their father having died long ago on a patrol in the mountains,” said Ezila.

  “So where is the mother and child?” Neth’tek asked.

  As if in answer to his question, they heard a scream from somewhere in the woods behind the house. It was a woman crying out for help, the words hardly audible but the tone in her voice was obvious.

  All three of them ran in the direction of the scream almost immediately, and fifteen yards from the house they found a watering hole built into the ground in the middle of a glade of pine trees. A woman was curled on the ground next to it, weeping into her arm.

  Neth’tek went straight to her and put his arm over her, trying to offer comfort. But the woman only repeated three words, saying over and over again, “In the well! In the well! In the well!”

  Neth’tek looked at Ezila and Dril’ead for an explanation, but Dril only stood next to the hole and looked down, his expression unreadable in the darkness.

  “Down there,” Ezila said, “the Ulchar makes its nest.”

  “Then we’ll pillage it,” said Dril, and he swung one leg over its side so that he sat on its edge with his foot dangling over the pit. “I go first. If I land safely, I’ll call up to you. If not... you’re on your own.”

  Neth’tek shook his head and turned his attention back on the woman. He leaned close to her and said in a gentle voice, “We’ll find your son, don’t worry.”

  “In the well! In the well!” was all that she said in response.

  Without further instruction, Dril swung his other leg into the darkness and dropped straight down. Neth’tek’s heart skipped a beat as he watched him vanish into the pit, and a second and a half later they heard a splash echo out of the dark.

  “It’s alright!” Dril replied, “Come down as soon as you can!”

  Neth’tek hesitated before getting up, uncertain about leaving the woman alone.

  “I’ll watch her,” Ezila said, gesturing to the opening into the ground, “Get down there.”

  Neth’tek nodded and stood, swinging on leg over and into the opening of the pit. He closed his eyes and breathed inward, offering a silent prayer to the First Born for help.

  “Go with a good heart, Neth’tek Vulzdagg, and you will make it out,” Ezila said as if in answer to his prayer, and then she knelt beside the woman and laid her hands on her head and shoulder, closing her eyes as she began speaking in a language Neth’tek hadn’t heard before.

  He forced his attention away from her, though, and looked down. “Time to fall,” he said, and then dropped into the darkness.

  15

  The Bone-hoard

  “The pieces are moving on both sides,” the messenger said, down on one knee before the throne of his mistress.

  Alastra sat back and smiled. “So the Vulzdagg brothers have fallen for the bait, and the Adian King goes chasing his fears when the danger lies right under his doorstep. In time we shall have enough power even to free the Shadow Queen from her prison. The world will soon know true fear, and true power. It is as I envisioned.”

  Gorroth came forward, then, growling like an angry wolf. “What of my prize? You promised me the Vulzdagg’s head as trophy for my service to you, and you’d better hold true to your promise.”

  His yellow eyes narrowed warningly, and he barred his sharp fangs. But Alastra merely put a hand up to silence him.

  “Be still, my hungry servant, for you shall have your prize and more,” she said. “This trap is not laid for the Vulzdagg’s. It is rather for the spirit guardian that the boy keeps with him. She is all that stands between us and our contest with him.”

  Gorroth only snorted and turned around, unsatisfied.

  “You doubt my abilities, don’t you?” Alastra said, and she frowned. “The Shadow Queen and I are one in spirit, if not in body. She gives me her power through my prayers, and The Watcher who sees all will give us the strength we need to defeat the ones who stand between us and our destiny. If you are indeed the demon of fulfillment, than you shall fulfill your purpose in this.”

  Gorroth only looked at the surface of the lake of black water, watching the creatures crawl forth from its depth. “I do not doubt the power you possess,” he said, “but I do doubt your understanding of what you’re up against. You don’t know the Vulzdagg’s like I do,” he said, putting a claw up to his chest where there were scars from previous battles that had long since healed, “You haven’t
felt the bite of the basilisk like I have.”

  *****

  “You see? I told you it was alright!” Dril’ead said as he pulled Neth’tek out of the water and onto his feet, choking on the sour liquid he had landed in. He patted him on the back, knocking water from his throat. “Now come, we haven’t enough time to spare recovering.”

  He waded toward an opening in the wall of the circular corridor they had dropped into, water pooling up to their shoulders. But Dril stopped at the entrance to the tunnel, looking it up and down.

  “It smells like... like an age old grave!” Neth’tek exclaimed as soon as he had gotten his voice back, and shielded his mouth and nose from the appalling scent.

  “I don’t think this was always a watering hole,” Dril said under his breath, kicking a human skull out of his way as he ducked into the narrow passage.

  Having no other alternative, Neth’tek followed behind him. It continued for some fifty yards until it broke off into two different directions. Here they stopped to catch their breath, Dril putting a hand on his brothers’ shoulder.

  “I’m afraid this is where we must part,” he said. “You take that one, and I’ll take this one. Maybe these tunnels will reconnect at some section of this tomb.”

  “Who made these tunnels anyway?” Neth’tek asked, looking down one passage and then the next with disgust.

  “You’d think the townsfolk must’ve,” said Dril, “but by the roots sticking out of the walls, I can’t help but think that it could be older than them.”

  Neth’tek looked around him, and took note of the thin roots poking out from between the moss covered stones that made the tunnel. He took one and pulled it from the wall, inspecting it more closely.

  “Well, I’ll see you on the other side,” Dril’ead said, his expression in the infrared spectrum and the tone of voice excited. He spun round where he knelt and squeezed into the tunnel, hurrying on his way.