Gods of Shadow and Flame

by M. H. Johnson

  “And so we have found a diplomatic solution to a most vexing problem, gentlemen, with no unnecessary bloodshed. Wonderful,” commended a sleepy Lucienda. “Now if you gents would be so kind as to gaze quietly at the stars? My Morlekai and I have not finished our… rest.”

  Alacabar and Malek shared knowing smiles, each lying back down and pretending not to hear sleepy whispers and kisses turn into soft moans and quiet cries of passion, and much to Malek’s surprise, he found himself slipping effortlessly back to sleep.

  The morning dawned bright and beautiful, Malek waking to find himself feeling as refreshed and invigorated as he ever had, gazing about him with a curious smile. Everything seemed almost to glow with an uncanny vibrancy under the light of the morning sun, and Malek half wondered if they had already slipped into some land of enchantment. He found, catching Latif’s look of awe, that he was not the only one to feel this way.

  “Heavens above! I feel like we’ve somehow slipped into Faerie while we slept,” the young healer said.

  Morlekai, pleased smile upon his own grim features, gave the slightest shake of his head. “Not Faerie, lad. Such a place can only be discovered by moonlit paths that form in the heart of the most beloved gardens upon the face of Dawn. Riskordia possesses one such garden, but it is far from here.”

  Lucienda nodded solemnly at this. “Rather, dear Latif, we approach a path through Regio touching upon planes of sweetest fancy and gentle summer’s dream, far off indeed from the dark glories we normally find ourselves reveling within,” the siren assured.

  “It only makes sense, if we are truly upon the right path,” Alacabar confirmed and Malek agreed. Far too often he recalled flashes of dark glory and madness, fighting for his very soul in realms of horrific, glorious nightmare, so close to darkest Abyss that he wondered if there was really any difference at all.

  And that Delvers like he and his friends could not only survive but thrive in such hideous realms, feasting upon the ichor of blackest nightmare, greedily drinking down the very essence of those vile abominations that sought to kill them, feeling utterly alive, joyous even, in places where a mundane soul would be warped and crushed, screaming in endless horror before being torn to nothing by the forces within, made Malek wonder what kind of creature he truly was.

  He shook his head resolutely, clearing dark thoughts like cobwebs from his mind even as the sharp scent of pine flooded his nostrils, the mountain peppered with evergreens beyond count. Jess would adore this hike. He smiled at the gentler reverie but did his best to clear his mind of all distractions, seeking only to follow his beloved companions forward as they strode up the base of the great mountain, their steady, groundeating pace and Delver's strength seeing them above the treeline in remarkably good time.

  Malek took a deep breath then, turning around as they all did to gaze upon the magnificent landscape before them, taking in the majestic view of verdant forest, fallow fields, and crystal clear lakes dotting the landscape far below. His heart felt touched by a strange, transcendent reverence. They were close. He could feel it. A gateway plunging not into darkest nightmare, but instead ascending to living dreams of exhilaration and wonder, just an angel's breath away.

  The sacred horn, almost within their reach. Hidden away in some divine level of Regio, touched with the blessing of a realm infinitely more pristine than their own. Malek shivered at the thought of it. No matter what else had been said, no matter how great a reward had been intimated by those who had deduced even an inkling of their true purpose, Malek knew they were questing not just for wonder or glory this day, but for the greatest prize of all. Their very salvation.

  "We are here. At the lip between worlds." Morlekai's voice broke through Malek's reverie, his gaze lost in the golden beams of sunlight that caressed Morlekai's form in a corona of gentle light.

  Malek shivered at the sight, awed, though he could not say why. He closed his eyes, breathing deep. When next he opened them, his perfectly beautiful and indescribably deadly friend was gazing right back at him, gold green eyes possessed of a frightful intensity. "Does anyone sense it? Do you, Malek?"

  Their leader's words lent a new sense of urgency to their purpose, and delightful wonder soon became tinged with an underlying fear. What if they could not find the path? What if it was all a fool's dream they chased? How bitter a blow that would be. Yet they were close. Malek could feel it. But an angel's breath away.

  As the day waxed to a glorious noon, sun shining warmly down upon them even as they strode through a mist-laden grove of stately birch and pine inexplicably preserved in the very basin of the mountaintop, far above the treeline, they continued to wander, trusting their feet, winding around the grove that seemed to stretch endlessly before them. It gave Malek hope, for even now the laws of nature were just beginning to give way to dream with the endless mountaintop forest before them. Yet it went no farther than that, just a touch of the improbable. And as the noonday sun waned to evening, Morlekai simmered with growing impatience, his face tightening in an unfamiliar scowl. For it had become painfully clear that no one sensed anything more than a tantalizing trace of the miraculous. No flashes of insight leading to worlds transcending the one upon which they strode. Merely endless woodlands rustling in the breeze, alive with birdsong and the scent of loamy earth and growing things, only skirting but the edges of Shadow.

  And then Malek was struck by an odd shiver.

  He stopped cold. Heart racing as ever growing disappointment turned to one blinding moment of desperate hope.

  He heard his friends trudge on but did not even whisper, afraid to lose that odd tingle, the wondrous sense that something beyond his ken was just at the edge of comprehension, a complex equation he almost understood, a word on the tip of his tongue.

  Malek shuddered as the ephemeral sense of something solidified suddenly into a frisson of awareness that set all his senses aflame with a perception that rocked through him. As if he had lived all his life looking straight ahead before gentle hands lifted his chin, allowing him to behold the glorious Heavens in all their wonder, wings granted with which to soar amongst those heavenly clouds. In that instant, he sensed the trail they were so desperately looking for. At right angles to any point on the compass. One merely needed to turn in that odd direction and gaze upon the path invitingly before them, ever but a footstep away.

  "Morlekai!" One word, quickly yelled out as he began to proceed down the mysterious path he could all but taste, shivering as if he had just plunged into waters deep and strange, Morlekai's tightly muttered curses and Alacabar's excited whoop seemingly endless miles behind.

  He had to fight to resist the urge to tear ahead, to see what wonders lay just beyond his sight, waiting until he sensed his companions just steps behind before he took off as his whim dictated, dashing down inclines, darting under the roots of a massive uprooted tree unlike any he had ever seen before, ignoring the breathless yells of his friends, content simply in knowing they kept up even as he raced ever faster, his feet filled with an odd kind of frenetic energy as he dashed through odd paths and trails neither of Dawn nor the world he glimpsed just beyond, till at last he made his way to the edge of a forest suddenly vast and primeval, nothing like the tame spruce and pine that had filled his sight seemingly moments before.

  He stopped then, at the forest’s edge, breathless with wonder.

  "Bloody hells, boy! Did you have to rush off like a mad harridan?" Alacabar gave Malek a rap on his helm before he froze, gazing about in amazement. "By the gods themselves!"

  Malek could only nod his head, speechless with awe and wonder as he beheld the majestic city some distance beyond the primeval forest's edge. Vast, magnificent buildings constructed of pristine pink stone that sparkled softly in the coppery light of the setting sun. The doors and arched windows of those structures were lined with the most precious of metals, glowing prettily in the gentle light. A city lined with gold. Exquisitely constructed manors and palaces fronted by massive pillars of marble, amber fo
untains rippling even now with running water, all of it interspersed with parks blossoming with rich flowering greenery.

  And not a soul to be seen. Yet the primal forest had not overrun those ancient buildings still perfectly preserved. Everything was in perfect repair, the blossoming flowers remained sedately in their designated plots, the fountains splashing as merrily as they had for perhaps a thousand years. It was as if the abandoned city had stood silent sentinel for a people long since lost to time.

  Malek blinked, realizing that everything was captured with a sort of pristine, breathless beauty, and if he gazed at the wonderful edifices in just the right angle, he thought he saw flickers of crowds of elegantly dressed citizenry, olive skinned with exotic, almond-shaped eyes. The women wore their glossy dark hair in carefully woven braids, beads of amber flashing in the sun, smiling serenely as they made their way wearing togas and dresses either crimson or ivory white. Even as Malek felt himself slip ever deeper into strange reverie, he realized he could actually hear those long lost voices, make out the throaty laughter of beautiful women chatting animatedly in their ancient tongue. Yet if he looked too closely, they seemed to disappear. Ghosts of a time long since past.

  Malek shivered with the wonder of it, feeling that he had indeed stepped whole cloth into the tapestry of an ancient empire at the height of its power and glory, lost in some eternal moment, entirely outside the normal flow of time.

  A soft touch, and Malek blinked even as Lucienda’s voice gently soothed, he becoming aware of his companions in full once more. "Well done, Malek. You have taken that first bold step. Now, can you lead us on the path to the ancient city's heart? Where once stood a grand library, renowned to hold all the secrets of their wisest seers, before all was lost to darkest magics, so very long ago. Ages before our ancient Red Queen had forged the empire now known as Erovering, sacred word for conquest, and today our home. Can you catch the scent of it, noble Hound? For this is a dream of the first era, centuries before the first Northman had ever set foot upon our continent, a world both connected to us and utterly apart, so many tribes of man lost forever to the tides of fate and time."

  Malek shuddered, heart already aching for the ghosts of little boys shouting with excitement that he saw running through these streets so happy and carefree, enraptured by endless games of ball and tag that they had probably played for millennia without number, lost in the beauty of the moment, as close to Heaven, perhaps, as any boy could want. "Very well," he said, voice little more than a whisper. He felt Lucienda's hand gently grip his shoulder, realizing in some horrible way that his companions were barely more than ghosts themselves, and Latif faintest of all, little more than the slightest flicker.

  And then it came to him, as naturally as breathing.

  He smiled, gently clasping Lucienda’s hand with his own, and pulled them all through.

  “By the gods, boy! How did you do that?” Alacabar looked at Malek with a sort of wonder that left him feeling suddenly chilled.

  "An impressive feat, Hound." Morlekai's measuring gaze was of such intensity that Malek had to look away, catching sight of a shaking Latif who looked about ready to collapse, though of exhaustion or wonder, Malek could not say.

  “Yes, well, whatever I did worked, and here we are. Lucienda said something about a library?”

  Lucienda nodded and took the lead.

  "Well done, good Malek. You actually managed to pull us through! We were afraid we might have to wait till we found the library and make use of the keys for that. Rest easy.

  I think, perhaps, I can find the way of it now."

  Latif's awed gaze locked upon Malek's own. "How did you do that?"

  Malek shrugged.

  "I can't really say. I just felt like I was fully here and you four were sort of looking through a glass pane of sorts. I just had to open it and pull you guys through."

  Latif turned to Alacabar. “I didn’t know it worked that way.”

  Alacabar grinned. “It doesn’t. But our Hound here isn’t one for rules, not even of the metaphysical sort. One reason why we like to have him along.”

  Their words flowed over Malek like the gentle susurrations of the stream beside the Calenbry apple groves he would fall asleep beside once upon a time, captivated as he now was by the wonder of this ancient city lost to time. Architecture on a grand scale he had never seen nor read about before surrounded him, seeming to have been scaled to giants, with magnificent lifelike frescoes depicting battles and scenes of what appeared to be divine inspiration. Men wielding ancient swords and shields glowing with golden light, being knighted by angelic beings or saluted with raised palms and lowered knees by an army of warriors, all in paints of various hues of gold and silver, crimson and white, imposing and beautiful, utterly larger than life.

  "By the gods, the artwork! Like nothing I've ever seen." Latif gazed raptly at the frescoes painted all about the city as they continued their journey, Malek nodding in agreement before abruptly stumbling, heart lurching in his chest, icy shivers racing down his spine.

  “Malek, what’s the delay?”

  Malek looked helplessly at an impatient Morlekai who seemed almost inured to the wonder and beauty all around him, so focused he was on discovering whatever secrets were to be found in the heart of that ancient city lost to time.

  Malek found his gaze inevitably sliding back at the fresco that had so badly shaken him.

  A figure resplendent in shimmering plate that could only be mithril, gazing back at him with fierce crimson eyes, rich burgundy tresses flowing freely. In one hand she held a sword unlike any of the leaf-shaped blades and spears wielded by the hundreds of soldiers shown bowing before her. In her other hand she held a shield upon which was depicted an oak tree in exquisite detail, each tiny bud and leaf a living marvel, the only use of brown and green he had seen within this ancient city lost to dream.

  A flood of awe and wonder left him breathless. There could be no doubt. He recognized that woman, that terrible blade pulled out of darkest Shadow, those eyes that seemed to burn into his very soul. Wordlessly, he turned to face his companions, all save Latif gazing at the figure with varying degrees of disbelief.

  "Who is she, really?" Lucienda quietly asked, turning to Morlekai, his hooded smile making it clear to Malek that his friend knew far more than he was letting on.

  "I don't understand, why is that fresco of such interest, in this city of wonders?" Latif quietly asked.

  “The mural bears a striking resemblance to a certain lass we happen to know,” Alacabar explained in his rumble of a voice.

  Malek's mind raced with questions, flashes of barely remembered quips and commentary; caustic comments Twilight would snipe at him that he always thought were jests of a sort, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  Malek felt a powerful hand clasp his wrist, Morlekai's golden eyes strangely gentle. They had, in that moment, lost all traces of green. “Come. A mystery for another time. A bit of wonder you can tease your shieldsister with, once we emerge triumphant. Lead us, Hound. The horn awaits.”

  Malek nodded, forcing himself to put aside certain wonders and focus on the task at hand. He gazed towards Lucienda who appeared strangely shaken, she gazing helplessly back, and Malek understood then that the city was nothing like she had thought. Malek offered a reassuring smile, suddenly knowing at that moment exactly where they needed to be. "Come. I think I know the way."

  Malek ignored their curious looks as he found his feet taking him ever deeper into the heart of the mysterious city. Its cobblestones becoming ever more real, the sounds of children and hawkers ever more vibrant and lively, the very scents of human sweat, blossoming roses, rich green grass and golden noonday sun a bouquet of scent and sensation that shook him to the core.

  "By the gods, I feel as if I'm really here! And wasn't it just sunset, moments ago?" Latif's voice, filled with awe and wonder, turned to a delighted laugh as several of the children playing ball darting in between the stalls of their elders seemed of a sudden a
ware of them. They who had seemed but ghosts moments before.

  For all Malek knew, to their own minds these children of Absalon were living a vibrant life, and it was Malek and his band that seemed but ghosts flickering upon the edges of their perception. Yet now fingers pointed at them, chatting in a melodious language Malek felt he could almost comprehend. Almost. On the tip of his tongue. And there it was.

  A sense of frisson and wonder. And suddenly he knew exactly what they were saying. As if he were emerging from a dream of being a boy wandering through lands of dream and reverie, only now awakening once more to who he truly was. He blinked then as Morlekai gently squeezed his wrist, having never let go.

  A youth awakening from a dream of madness and war surrounded by ghosts, or an adventurer lost within a dream, he was suddenly uncertain as to who exactly he was.

  “Focus, Malek. Lead us to the library.” An encouraging smile from one he knew as a friend.

  Hesitantly he nodded, gently asking the boys dashing about where the scriptorium was, several laughing at his odd accent, though one was gracious enough to point to a massive building that looked to be made entirely of gold veined marble, pale as ivory.

  Malek smiled and bid the boys a warm dinner at their mother's table, and they wished him a warm meal at a traveler's inn, for Malek looked nothing like them with his paler features, northern eyes, and exotic armaments.

  Then one of the boys blinked and shook, bowing low before Malek, as if at last recognizing who he was. The boys beside him blinked in confusion before turning to gaze back at Malek carefully, faces growing pale and frightened before the boys abruptly turned and fled. Malek smiled gently down at the remaining boy trembling before him. "Fear nothing, son of Absalon. For you did not know." He then proceeded onwards, leading his companions to the building they sought, wondering only why they were gazing at him so oddly.

  “Malek, dear, how is it that you understand these lost souls so well?”