Oblivion: Part Five of the Redemption Cycle

by J. R. Lawrence

  The queen straightened, allowing her hand to fall back to her side. But she smiled wickedly at him. “It is glorious, is it not?” she said, “The power that the tree possesses is beyond all that the First Born are and ever have been. With it, we could rule this world without them. With it, Doomstriker would fall before our feet. We will save this world!”

  “You will rid it of all that has ever made Aldabaar beautiful!” Neth’tek cried, and he wrapped the scarf of Muari around his left hand as he took his sword in both hands, straightening himself in front of the Emerald Tree. “I know what I have come to do, and there is nothing you can say or do to stop me. These shadows, they will not last. The lies that The Watcher has put into your mind are but lies, and if you follow them you will find yourself floating in oblivion.”

  “Don’t be a fool like the rest of your family, Neth’tek Vulzdagg,” she said. “This power is beyond your understanding. I should have known better than to think you’d understand. But in time, you may. When I have the world in the palm of my hand, you will understand.”

  “To oblivion with you!” Neth’tek screamed. He lifted his sword over his head, the image of his home shifting into a mirror of himself, but he slammed the sword downward into the glassy surface of it.

  It exploded, launching him and the Shadow Queen backwards, fragments of it scattering across the mountaintop. The darkness cleared as a gust of wind ripped across the peaks, drawn back like a blanket over the land below, and all of Aldabaar became visible to him as he turned over onto his side. He could see the Hilled Valley of Heinsfar outstretched before him, the trees rising before the coastline, shimmering pink in the light of the setting sun, and even the Silver City sitting peacefully in the north.

  And then he heard the Shadow Queen scream in absolute outrage. He looked up in time to see her thrust her staff toward him, and a magical force picked him from the ground and held him off the edge of the mountain. Looking down, Neth’tek felt a cold chill run up his legs to the back of his head, only the jagged edges of the mountainside rising between him and the earth hundreds of thousands of feet below.

  “You fool!” she screamed at him, holding her staff out as if it were her own arm grasping him there. “You idiot! You thought you could challenge the power of The Watcher, challenge me, the Shadow Queen, the one true source of power in Aldabaar? You will pass into oblivion for what you have done!”

  Neth’tek felt the force of magic closing in about him, crushing him where he floated. His breath was the first to go, and then he felt his already broken ribs cracking even more. Despite the agony of it, as he looked at the shattered pieces of the Emerald Tree lying around her, he knew he would leave that world with no regrets.

  There was no more harm that she could cause to the world. The task he had been appointed was done. He could feel his soul redeemed.

  And then it happened. Someone leaped in front of the Shadow Queen, a glint of silver sparkling in the sunlight that began to filter through the clouds above, and the staff was cut in half. Neth’tek fell from the air, hitting an outcropping of rock some thirty feet under him, and lay motionless.

  Duoreod spun round, brandishing his scimitar as he faced off against the Shadow Queen. “You leave him alone!” he warned her, the king of the Silver City facing the enemy of his world.

  The Shadow Queen looked at her staff, and then tossed it to the side. “You think you can kill me, dear Duoreod,” she said, and smiled at the Adian.

  For a moment Duoreod was confused by her words, and then he recognized her. It hit him like a punch to his gut, or a knife in his heart. “Anuel,” he gasped, lowering his sword, “but... how can this be?”

  “You didn’t think that your love was dead, did you?” she replied. “After all this time, I thought you had forgotten about me.”

  Duoreod tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. “My love for you never died,” he replied, “but it appears otherwise for you. I never forgot you either, and that is why I know that this form of evil cannot be the Anuel I had once loved. She was taken from me.”

  The Shadow Queen, secretly reaching for a blade beneath the folds of her elegant dress, smiled at him again. “You don’t think that, though,” she said.

  “But I do.”

  He charged forward, thrusting his sword for her, and her blade came out and deflect the hit. Duoreod stumbled to the side, hitting his head against a rock. The Shadow Queen moved above him, her black sword held in one hand, and looked down at him as he struggled to move while the world darkened about him.

  “You could have joined me,” she said.

  Before she could say more, or slay him where he lay on the mountaintop, a dark shadow fell across the whole world. She turned around suddenly, her blade dropping from her hand and turning into ash as it hit the stones. Above her, looming like a mountain above all mountains, was Doomstriker.

  The eldest of the First Born turned round, looking down at her where she stood, small and insignificant before him. His eyes, burning red with fire, narrowed under the crown of flames that he wore.

  The Shadow Queen stumbled backwards as he reached for her, black and enormous like the mountains themselves, and fell to the ground. She screamed as he plucked her from the earth, loud and horrified, carrying across the whole world for all to hear her demise. The sound of it awoke Duoreod from his stupor, but Doomstriker had already gone when he opened his eyes. The only thing that had changed was the darkness. The presence of the Shadow Queen, the last servant of The Watcher, was gone.

  And then the earth shook. He scrambled to his feet as he felt, and heard, fragments of the mountain crashing down. Remembering Neth’tek falling into the darkness, he ran to the side of the cliff and looked down at his body below.

  “Neth’tek!” he cried out, and then laid down on the mountainside and reached for him. “Get up, Neth’tek!”

  Neth’tek stirred, moving his head from the ground, and looked about himself. He had nearly forgotten where he was. But as soon as he recalled what had happened, the image of Duoreod cutting the Shadow Queens staff, he looked up and saw the king reaching down for him. The whole mountain shook beneath him, and he crawled to the side even as the platform he lay on cracked and broke free of the rest of the mountain.

  Managing to grab onto the rocks before he fell with it, Neth’tek held on for his life. He could hear his sword bouncing off of the jagged slope of the mountain below, slowly fading out of sight and sound.

  Duoreod leaned down even more, putting his hand out toward him. “Please, Neth’tek, take my hand!” he said. It was beginning to feel familiar to him, almost exactly as the day he had attempted to save Diamoad’s life after their battle had ended, and these same mountains were falling to ruin.

  Neth’tek, holding on with both hands, looked up at the Adya reaching for him. He could easily grab the outstretched hand, but something was holding him back. A pain, grief perhaps. He realized just how much he wanted to be with his family.

  “No,” said Duoreod, seeing the shadow in his face, “don’t let go! Don’t you dare let go!”

  Neth’tek’s eyes burned in the frosty air, and he saw the tears in Duoreod’s eyes as he pled for him.

  The Adya shook his head. “Please, Diamoad,” he said, “come home.”

  It was then that Neth’tek realized what he needed to do, and reaching upwards he clasped hands with the Adya. Duoreod pulled Neth’tek to the safety of the mountaintop, and they both huddled together in the middle of the circle of broken emerald glass, the remains of what had been the Emerald Tree, the gift of the First Born to Aldabaar when The Fallen had come to be.

  Now it was no more. The Fallen were no more.

  39

  Redeemed

  When the world was still again, Neth’tek and Duoreod looked up from under their torn cloaks. They looked about, stupefied by the view of the land from so high above. It was absolutely magnificent, Neth’tek almost admitted that it had all be worth the pain to see it. But even as his heart
swelled with excitement, he recalled his pain, the suffering of the people in Evenstar, Dril’ead, the hunters and Vexor. Duoreod picked up a fragment of the emerald glass, turning it over in his hands.

  “This place was supposed to be unreachable,” he said. “For years I’ve heard stories of men trying to conquer the mountains to get to the Emerald Tree, and how they utterly failed in the end. Something moved it, as if guarded. So that makes me wonder, how did the Shadow Queen manage to reach it?”

  Neth’tek shrugged, looking at the pieces around them. “Some things are meant to happen,” he said, “in order to steer things in the direction the First Born had envisioned. You should have seen it, though. It was beautiful.”

  “And you destroyed it,” said Duoreod, almost as if he were disappointed. He shook his head, chucking the fragment.

  “Because it needn’t be needed any longer,” said a voice from behind them both, and they knew neither of them had spoken. However, Duoreod recognized the sound of it, and leaping to his feet he turned around. He came face to face Muari standing near the edge of the mountain.

  He smiled at them, his gaze falling lastly upon Neth’tek. “Well done, child, you’ve done this world a great service. Indeed, we are impressed by your efforts, your determination. It runs deep in your family, I see.”

  “You know my family?” Neth’tek asked, confused, and he slowly climbed onto his feet.

  “I know all of my children,” said Muari, and it was then that Neth’tek realized to whom he was conversing.

  Both of them fell to one knee in front of The Beloved. Duoreod looked up, however, and asked, “But I don’t understand. I thought the Emerald Tree was a reminder for us, something to represent you among our people?”

  “Yes,” said Muari, “indeed it was. But it is no longer required.”

  Duoreod furrowed his brow in confusion.

  “I will walk among my people once again,” The Beloved said.

  Duoreod, overcome with joy, fell at the feet of Muari and wept.

  But Neth’tek knelt in front of him still, uncertain. “So,” he began, pausing with thought, “is it done? Are my people redeemed?”

  “Behold for yourself!” Muari exclaimed, and he pointed his hand behind him.

  Neth’tek turned and looked in the way he indicated, and saw a concourse of shining beings standing on the mountain there. They wore grey cloaks, the garb of the Adya. They bowed before him and Muari, and began walking beside him even to pass beyond the youngest of the First Born. There, they faded into mist, and were carried away on the wind.

  Some of them passed close beside him, and he recognized their faces. Long decades it had been since Neth’tek beheld the faces of his family, but he knew them the moment he saw their shining expressions. They all wore the cloaks of the Adya, followers of Muari, redeemed and accepted by the First Born to be their people. But they walked away, vanishing into the air. This time, though, Neth’tek was relieved to see their passing. He knew they were among a god who loved them.

  A green light stopped beside him, however, and he looked up into Ezila’s face.

  “Well done, Neth’tek Vulzdagg,” she said with a smile, an emotion he had never seen her express throughout all their time together. “You did it, just like I knew you would. Now your desire shall be granted, your soul at ease, knowing that it will rest in the company of your family and your gods when all is done.”

  Neth’tek climbed to his feet and watched the last of the spirits go. “Yes,” he said, “I can already feel the glory in my soul.” He looked at her, then, and nodded. “Where do we go now?”

  Ezila did not answer, but gazed across the land before them, and Neth’tek noticed Muari help Duoreod onto his feet. They spoke a few words together in private, and then Muari faced Neth’tek and Ezila as they stood side by side.

  “Come, Ezila, it is time,” he said, and put out his hand for her.

  Neth’tek hesitated, looking from Muari and to Ezila in confusion. “What does he mean?” he asked her.

  “Oh, Neth’tek Vulzdagg, I wish I could tell you all things that you wish to hear,” she said, looking him in his grey eyes, “but I won’t be going with you this time. You’ve done what you were asked to do, and so have I. We have been faithful to the plan of Muari. We both deserve what’s best for us.”

  Neth’tek stepped back, shaking his head, refusing to accept it. “No,” he stammered, looking down, “I can’t... You can’t... We stick together!”

  “I’m afraid that choice isn’t ours,” she said. “I used the last of my power to end Gorroth, and return Azila to Muari, to be judged. I saved you, as was my oath to The Beloved. What you see before you is merely a figure I obtained from this life, not a solid form. And you... you have your whole life before you. Who knows? Perhaps we may meet again.”

  She turned and walked the way the others had gone, slowly fading into a green mist. Neth’tek stepped forward as if to go after her, but stopped, his hand lifted toward her as she turned to face him one last time. “Ezila... wait.”

  “Goodbye, Neth’tek Vulzdagg,” she said, and then was gone.

  Muari walked over to him, putting his hand on his shoulder to comfort him as he continued to reach into the empty space before him.

  “I don’t understand,” Neth’tek said.

  “Some things aren’t meant to be understood,” replied Muari, “merely done. Such is the way things work for the most part. But who knows? Even as Ezila said, perhaps you will come to understand.”

  “Will I ever see her again?” he asked, his hand falling to his side.

  Muari stepped from him and started walking back to the edge of the mountain, his hands folding behind him. “What does your heart tell you?” he asked.

  Neth’tek, sorrowful, even after all he had done, looked to Duoreod. The king stared at Muari, his expression unreadable as his mind seemed elsewhere.

  What does my heart tell me... he wondered, pondering his feelings. Perhaps I will never know, until the end of all things.

  40

  All Things must Pass Away

  Helen met Mope and Hakal in the courtyard of Grindle, hiding among the stone structures as the world began to shake and a deep shadow fell over them. But when it ended, the place felt as peaceful as ever, and they came out to find that the monsters who had assaulted them had passed away. They decided to set out for Evenstar, Helen and the hunters wondering what had occurred in that corner of the world, and found all as well as it had been in years before. Rollon was gone, Helen alone knowing the fate of the foolish man, and the dark rangers that the people claimed had come into the land were nowhere to be found.

  Gradually, they found themselves returning to their original lives. Hakal and Mope taking up the profession of hunting in the wild, the expert hunter teaching Mope all he knew about the wilderness and the animals. The man missed his brother, Jakal, but took Mope in his place, and loved the man as he loved his brother. Vexor settled in the tavern, taking Neth’tek and Dril’ead’s old room, and learning all there was to know about that quarter of the world.

  They wondered upon the fate of Neth’tek and Duoreod, but as time quickly passed, and not a trace of the shadow of the evil that they had faced was found, they could only assume that they had been successful in defeating the enemy. They could only live their lives in harmony, accepting whatever fate had befallen them to be for their joy and safety.

  As for Eladrid Woodhaven, he set up camp beside the Lake Nuwa on the outskirts of Stonewood, healing his wounds and washing the blood from his hands. He planned to return south to Evenstar, and the valley of Fourth Hold, hoping to cross paths with his old companion. But he recalled how Neth’tek instructed him to remain where he was, that he’d come to him when all was done accordingly.

  The woodlander sat under the shade of an oak tree near the waters edge, even though there was hardly a sun left in the sky for it to shield him from. He looked up as Neth’tek stepped toward him, and stiffly climbed to his feet to greet him.
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  “I thought maybe you weren’t going to show,” Eladrid said with a grin.

  Neth’tek shrugged, stopping a few paces from the tree and the waters edge. “There was much that needed to be taken care of,” he replied.

  Neth’tek looked away over the surface of the deep green water, clear enough that he could see to the bottom of the shallows in the fading sunlight. He sighed heavily, breathing in the clean air of that place, and Eladrid stepped up to his side and followed his gaze across the waters surface.

  “What will you do now, Neth’tek Vulzdagg?” Eladrid asked quietly, as if he was afraid to disturb the peaceful silence.

  “What will I do? What will become of me?” Neth’tek shrugged offhandedly, smiling. A beam of sunlight crested the mountaintop of one of the westernmost mountains of that valley, and Neth’tek glanced at the red and orange skyline that the setting sun created. It was mesmerizing, even beautiful to look upon, and he watched it for some time without speaking.

  At length he did speak, though his face was still on the skyline. “Well, Eladrid Woodhaven, I think I shall watch the sun set, and await its coming on the morrow.”

  “You are certain it will return, then?” Eladrid asked curiously, wondering how Neth’tek would respond.

  Neth’tek glanced at Eladrid for a brief moment, reading the woodlander’s question in his face. He looked back to the sunset as he spoke, though. “All things must pass away, but that does not mean that they will not return again. Like the sun that sets each and every evening, leaving us in darkness for a time, so shall the time of this world be put in darkness for an age or two. However, as repeated history has shown us, darkness can never last. The moon and the stars, they are symbols to remind us of the light of the sun, and that it will return in time. We may not have realized how much we love the light until it is gone from us, and that is why we are allowed to be shut in darkness. We are left with one decision in the long hour of night; are we to take it, to love it instead of the sun? Or are we to sit up the whole hour of the night, and greet the sun when it shines again? It will always shine, for as long as there is a world left for it to shine upon.”