Queen of Oblivion

by Giles Carwyn

  The tree groaned as streaks of black emerged from the roots below and snaked up the trunk, zigzagging along the contours in the bark. Every place the darkness touched shriveled, created trenches in the wood.

  Brophy rushed around the tree, and she struggled to follow him. He skidded to a stop in front of Efflum’s desiccated form, half embedded in the trunk. Brophy raised his sword in both hands.

  “No!” Arefaine put a hand on his arm. “Your sword is useless—”

  Brophy shook her off and struck Efflum full force in the chest.

  His weapon shattered, and Brophy pitched forward, his momentum burying the broken blade to the hilt in the dying tree.

  Efflum laughed, his papery voice growing stronger. As the tree died around him, Efflum’s flesh was restored. Sunken cheeks filled with vitality. Yolklike eyeballs grew and whitened, forming pupils and irises. Skinny limbs swelled, growing muscles.

  “You have to go,” she whispered to Brophy.

  He yanked the broken blade out of the tree and whirled to face her. “What!”

  “Go!” she screamed at him.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  Insufferably stubborn man! Her mind raced, desperate to keep the tree alive.

  Efflum’s desiccated cheeks were filling out as he smiled. “It seems you have misplaced your loyalties.”

  Brophy leaped at him again with the broken sword. Efflum’s right hand lashed out, knocking him to the side.

  Efflum laughed. The corpselike man was gone, transformed into the pale Ohohhim whose form they had seen on the stairs. His wisps of tattered hair thickened, darkened, and curled along the sides of a round face.

  Arefaine longed to throw her power against him, to overwhelm him as she had done with Issefyn and Jesheks, but she hesitated.

  “Don’t stop now, Daughter of Morgeon,” Efflum said, feeling his rejuvenated face with his free hand. “Throw your power against me. Tear me limb from limb.” His black eyes twinkled, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Feed me some more.”

  With a growl, she threw her power into the tree, bolstering the plant’s strength with her own, filling the decay with the life of her magic.

  Efflum laughed. “Foolish child,” he said. “You have no idea what this fight is about.” He pointed a finger at Arefaine, and Brophy leapt in front of her.

  “No!” Arefaine screamed, raising a shield around him.

  But the attack wasn’t aimed at him. Or at her.

  The Heartstone exploded, the shards slicing into her side.

  A blast of screams knocked her sideways, and a howling hurricane swept through the garden.

  “No!” she yelled, seeing too late what Efflum was after. She threw her ani against it, shielding herself and Brophy from the gnawing hatred of the black emmeria. She clutched at the remaining containment stones in her satchel.

  The howling wind whipped through the trees in the garden, killing them, melting them like wax. Efflum’s prison split down the middle with a thunderous crack. Chunks of wood and bark scattered the ground as he ripped his left arm free.

  “Run,” she cried, imbuing herself with the Floani form. She grabbed Brophy by the arm. She had to get him out of here.

  “Arefaine—”

  “RUN!” she shouted, propelling him toward the stairway and sprinting after him.

  Brophy leapt into the hole, and she jumped after him. They fell through disintegrating roots and landed in a heap on the silver steps. He yanked her to her feet and practically carried her down the stairs. The howling voices of the black emmeria swirled around them, rushing down the tower.

  “Arefaine,” Brophy yelled. “We’ve got to stop him!”

  “Run,” she said, struggling to stay on her feet. They pounded down, around and around. The howling voices slowly faded as she felt the emmeria being drawn upward. There was enough vile magic to enslave the world, and Efflum was absorbing it all.

  They had nearly reached the exit when she glanced over the railing to see if the doors were clear. She saw something at the bottom of the tower. A filthy box. No, a coffin, with something crawling on top of it. The creature had two arms and a long, ragged tail. It scuttled over the lid, trying to pry it open.

  Arefaine pulled up short, tugging on Brophy’s arm. In horror, she stared at the creature. Lank, greasy gray hair. The wrinkled face and skinny arms. It was human, and…

  “Issefyn?” she said.

  The creature snapped its head around, staring at her with red eyes.

  “You,” Arefaine said as the woman rolled off the sarcophagus and scrambled toward them, dragging her severed body behind her. “You did this. You set him free.”

  The abomination howled at them, her face twisted into a mask of pure rage.

  Brophy rushed forward, fists clenched, but Arefaine’s magic reached Issefyn first, ripping through her like a thousand tiny knives. The old woman screamed for a second before her half body splattered against the wall in a black smear.

  Brophy skidded to a stop, staring at the bloody wall.

  “Go, just go!” Arefaine shouted, pushing him down the stairs.

  He nodded, jumping the last few steps and slipped on the black slime, falling to his side. He winced as his hand was sliced by one of the thousands of crystal shards that covered the bottom of the tower. With the strength of her Floani-enhanced arms, Arefaine hauled Brophy upright and shoved him forward.

  Ragged stumps of half-decayed roots protruded from the half a foot of jellied decay that filled the base of the tower. As they worked their way across the floor, another chunk of root fell from above, splattering foul muck across them.

  “Out!” she said, shoving him through the open gate onto the landing. He ran down the steps and her heart twisted in her chest. Go, she thought, grabbing the gate. Go find a fourth way. An Ohndarien way.

  She pushed the gate shut with a loud clang. Brophy skidded to a halt, spotted her immediately, and charged back up the stairs.

  She quickly laced the gate with a simple spell, the illuminated silver instantly reacting to her wishes. She locked it tighter than the roots ever could have, locked it against any mortal who wanted to enter, and against any sorcerer who wanted to leave.

  “Arefaine!” Brophy slammed into the gate. He shook them, his muscles standing out in his arms, but the bars didn’t budge.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled.

  Now she could relax. Now she need not rush. Her destiny was already heading down the stairs. All she had to do was wait for it.

  She reached out and touched Brophy’s fingers where they tried to rip the gate from the wall. “Thank you, Brophy. Thank you for coming here, for helping me make this decision.”

  “No,” he grunted, trying to pry the bars apart with his bare hands. His face turned red as he strained. The silver bit into his hands, and blood seeped from his cut palm. “No!” He let go and slammed his fists against the bars. “Arefaine, open the damned doors!”

  “Brophy, please,” she said, reaching out through the gate for his hand. “Stop.”

  “Open the doors!” he screamed.

  “Go back to Ohndarien,” she said. “Go back to Shara and…” She couldn’t say it. “This is my battle. Everyone knew it. Everyone in the world except me.”

  “Let me help you.”

  Arefaine shook her head. “There is nothing more for you to do.”

  He finally stopped straining against the magical gates, and took her hand. “Arefaine, don’t do this. Oh was wrong. You weren’t meant to be a sacrifice. You were meant to live and to love and—” he choked.

  “I have lived,” she whispered. “And loved, if only for a moment. It is enough. It will have to be enough.”

  “Arefaine!”

  “I could never have done this without you.”

  “AREFAINE!” He threw himself against the gate.

  She turned and walked back into the tower.

  Chapter 12

  Arefaine waded through the ankle-deep sludge of d
ecay toward the stairway. She paused as Efflum came into view. He descended regally, robes as black and smooth as oil covering his body from chin to feet. He walked like a monk, a holy man on a sacred pilgrimage, assured of the righteousness of his cause.

  She narrowed her eyes, letting her magic pull away his veils, revealing him for what he really was. His glamour vanished. He was healthy and whole, but his hair was straggly, his face scraped, and his body naked except for the dirt and grime.

  That is the first truth I’ve wrenched from you, she thought.

  “The lover screams for his beloved,” Efflum taunted as he descended the stairs. “Or should I say, ‘The liar screams for his second choice.’” He chuckled.

  Arefaine’s lips tightened into a line. All her life she’d wondered when and how she should use her power. As a child, she’d had nightmares of losing control, hurting and killing people in fits of rage. She had held herself back ever since, never truly letting go until that day with Brophy on the bridge. Even then she could have done more, could have taken down the whole mountainside if she’d wanted to.

  But she was meant for this battle. For the first time in her life, she could unleash everything locked inside her for all these years.

  “You can still join me, Arefaine,” he commanded. “I am a forgiving parent.”

  “I have every intention of joining you,” she said. “We’ll be staying in this tower together for quite some time.”

  Efflum sneered, stepping between her and Oh’s coffin. “Open the gate,” he said. She saw his magic flare as he absorbed the raw emmeria swirling all around them, an unending torrent of screaming voices. “Let loose your little spell and let us enter Efften as we were meant to. As mentor and pupil.”

  “I was meant to finish what my father started three hundred years ago.”

  His expression soured, and he shook his head. “Your father was a fool. And, apparently, so are you.”

  With a striking motion, he swatted at her like she was a fly.

  Arefaine cried out as the force threw her across the room, slamming her against the wall. Her arm snapped, and she screamed.

  He’d smashed through her defenses like they were paper. He was no longer the feeble creature trapped in the tree. He was swimming in an ocean of black emmeria. He had become one with it.

  She struggled to her knees, bringing her limp arm around front, trying to force it to work.

  “Let the gate go,” Efflum said, his eyes cold.

  Arefaine shook her head, gathering what power she could. Again, Efflum gestured, and his magic slammed into the locked gates. She gasped as the backlash hit her. Something snapped deep within her chest, and for a moment she was certain she would be ripped in half.

  The onslaught went on and on. Efflum clenched his fist and threw all the energy in the room at the gates. The thin silver warped and bowed out toward Brophy as he yelled for her on the other side. The stone near one of the hinges cracked, sending a jagged fracture up the tower like a bolt of lightning. She tried to resist, tried to push back, but didn’t know how. Arefaine gritted her teeth, but a whimper escaped her. Her arm was in agony.

  Finally Efflum relaxed his clenched fist, the assault ebbed, and he massaged his fingers as if he’d just hurt himself.

  “I am impressed,” he said with a slight smile. “That attack should have done to you what you did to Issefyn.” He indicated the bloody smear on the tower wall. “You would have made an excellent pupil.”

  “I suppose I should be flattered,” she gasped, trying not to show how her entire body was shaking.

  “Arefaine!” Brophy shouted from the gate. “By the Seasons, let me in! Let me help you!”

  She flicked a quick gaze over her shoulder, but she couldn’t look him in the face, not now.

  Efflum turned from the gate and threw his might against the cracked wall. The tower groaned with the thunderous blow. Arefaine tried to rise to her feet and slipped in the black sludge.

  Do not despair, brave child. All will be well. A voice floated into her mind unbidden. Not her voice and not Brophy’s.

  There was no one else in the ichor-splattered interior of the tower. Who…?

  And then she saw something. The lid of the silver coffin had shifted. A wisp of golden vapor drifted through the gap.

  Oh? she asked in her mind.

  Yes, child. I am with you now, here at the end.

  Efflum continued his assault on the tower, trying to blast his way to freedom.

  I can’t beat him, she said. He’s too powerful.

  You are not as weak as you fear, and he is not as strong. I have known this man since he was a boy. His mind is fearsome, but his heart is weak. Hold a mirror up to him, and he will shatter.

  How?

  Watch. Wait for your moment.

  The golden vapor over Oh’s coffin spun in a circle, coalescing into a pale ghost. The figure was tall, with long robes like Efflum. He smiled gently. It was a sad smile, born of vision, suffering, and a thousand hard choices. She saw the emperor in it. She saw Dewland and Father Lewlem. It was Oh, the first mage, the Father Ohohhom, after all these years.

  Efflum noticed Arefaine’s glance and turned to see what she was looking at.

  “My old friend,” Oh said.

  Efflum sneered. “So, you have poked your head out of your tomb at last.”

  “We have lived long enough, you and I,” Oh said calmly. “It is time for the two of us and our old hatred to pass from this world.”

  “Just as you let my wife pass from this world,” Efflum spat. “Remember, Father, you drove me to these shores. You made my hate.”

  “No, the hatred you feel is of your own making,” Oh said. “You were the first man to defile the sacred fire. You were the first to use it to enslave, to destroy. Your corruption brought this misery to the world.”

  Efflum scoffed. “You chastise me? You, who wiped out whole armies in the name of peace and wisdom!”

  “I did. To my shame. But I repented. I turned away power, and you built an empire upon its abuses.”

  “You didn’t repent, you ran away!” Efflum said. “You became so terrified, you couldn’t even save a dying friend.”

  Oh lowered his misty head. “No, I could have saved Zelew, but I knew she wanted to die.”

  “Liar!” Efflum shouted.

  Oh folded his ghostly hands within his ghostly robes. “Didn’t you realize how much the power changed you, lessened you? You have mourned your wife’s death for a thousand years, but you never noticed that she stopped loving you long before she died.”

  “You talk to me of love? You’ve never loved anyone!”

  “You remember the first day you called forth the emmeria?” Oh said, ignoring him. “You corrupted the falcon.”

  “I remember that you exulted in the discovery!”

  “I did, but Zelew did not. The two of you fought. You struck her.”

  “Be careful, old ghost,” Efflum said, gathering power for another attack.

  “She never looked upon you as she had before, did she? She stayed by your side, but only to placate you, to keep you calm so that you would do no more damage.”

  Efflum threw his might against the ethereal form. The sarcophagus slid across the floor, sending up a geyser of black ooze before slamming into the far wall. Oh’s form faded, flickering in the howling wind. He held up a ghostly hand, but it did nothing against the wave of tainted ani that was washing over him. The lid of his coffin was thrown open and the dust within was scattered by the baleful hurricane. In seconds the golden light faded to nothing, and Arefaine knew that Father Oh was no more.

  Once again she was all alone in the howling darkness.

  Efflum turned to her, his dark eyes wild with triumph. The wind whipping through the tower died down as his temper faded.

  “Do you doubt me now, child,” he said, his thin hair fluttering atop his papery scalp. “Enough of this nonsense. You have no hope of stopping me. Open the door. Set me free.”

&n
bsp; Arefaine took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her body, holding her ribs where something had ripped deep inside of her. She felt something in the pocket of her robe and reached inside to grasp the shard of red diamond that held Brophy’s father’s soul.

  A flicker of memory came to Arefaine, an image of Brophy’s face as he looked at her with pity and horror in Oh’s cave.

  Swallowing down the taste of blood, she pushed off the wall and rose to her feet. “Oh was right. Zelew stopped loving you the day you discovered the emmeria, didn’t she?” Arefaine said. “You crossed a line and she could never forgive you.”

  “You know nothing of such things,” Efflum hissed.

  “From that moment on,” Arefaine continued, “she looked upon you with nothing but pity. You had become a broken thing she could not fix, a well of hatred that she tried to fill until it bled her dry and she longed for death.”

  Efflum stared at her, his hands curled into claws.

  “You are to blame for your wife’s death,” Arefaine said. “Aren’t you? All these years, you’ve blamed Oh for the crime, but you are the one who destroyed her—”

  “Enough!” Efflum yelled, flinging a gout of black sludge away from himself, splattering the walls.

  Arefaine backed up, continuing to press him. “And in your grief over what you’d done, you committed that same crime over and over, destroying lives, shattering souls until someone finally stopped you. Until my father stopped you.”

  Efflum started toward her, his teeth bared.

  “Is that why you want a family so badly?” Arefaine shouted over the roar. “Because you polluted the only one you ever had?”

  The archmage screamed and a gout of black emmeria burst from his lips. It rushed through the tower like a tornado, picking up rotten roots and broken crystal shards and flinging them into the air.

  She threw herself back, trying to shield herself. She could block the biting, chewing presence of the black emmeria, but the hard crystals slashed at her. The entire tower swirled with putrid brown chunks and deadly shards spinning through the air. All the black emmeria in the tower flowed through Efflum, rushing through his hands and cycling back to him in an endless torrent.