by Mark McCabe
As she reached out with her senses, trying to get some sense of her surroundings, she realised that it wasn’t just that she had no idea where she was; she couldn’t remember how she had got there either . . . or what she had been doing before she came to this place. Yes, she had been in a room, that was a strong feeling, and something terrible had happened to her, that much she also felt sure was right, though she couldn’t explain why, but any further detail completely eluded her.
As she struggled with these thoughts, an awareness began to grow within her of a dim glow that was forming, where before there had only been darkness. She could definitely see a dim glow in the distance now, up ahead of her. Though why she thought it was ‘ahead’ she wasn’t sure. Until she had become aware of the glow there had been no more ahead than there had been behind, or up or down. There had only been the utter darkness. But now . . . now there was . . . something . . . a glow. A glow that was slowly but surely growing. A light. Something to focus on. Something to guide her.
A thought that perhaps she should move towards the light started to form within her mind, and slowly it strengthened. A light had to be better than utter darkness, that seemed patently obvious. The thought to move towards it grew. Within moments the thought became a desire. More than that . . . it was a need. She had to move towards it.
Without any further ado, she began to move . . . towards it, towards the comfort the light seemed to be offering. She didn’t know how, but somehow she was moving now . . . towards the light . . . or was it moving towards her? It didn’t matter. It felt right. She could almost feel the comfort and warmth that it seemed to offer.
No. Don’t go. Sara, not that way. You must return to your body, quickly.
It was a man’s voice that suddenly broke the utter silence, startling her. She thought she had been alone. Where had that come from? And what was that name he had called her? Sara? She hadn’t realised till now that she had forgotten her name too. Was that who she was? Was that her name? She hoped so. It sounded like a good name.
She felt a tugging then. Something was pulling at her, pulling her away from where she was. Away from the darkness . . . and the light. It felt strange, but somehow it also felt right. For some reason, she decided to let herself go with it. How interesting, she thought as she felt herself slipping away.
Sara opened her eyes and blinked. She was back in her body. She knew instantly that she had just had some sort of out-of-body experience, though how and why she had no idea. Memories of what had been happening to her flooded into her mind in just a fraction of a heartbeat.
The first thing she saw was Golkar. Though he was standing right where she had last seen him, she knew instantly that something had changed. Something was different about him. She looked him over from head to toe, searching for some change in his appearance. Then it suddenly dawned on her. She couldn’t sense anything coming from him. He wasn’t even looking at her. For some reason, he had stopped attacking her.
Before she could digest that thought, a wave of excruciating pain suddenly coursed through her body, like a subway train suddenly and unexpectedly roaring through an abandoned station. Where did that come from? she thought to herself as she struggled to cope with the realisation that the intense pain she was experiencing was coming from many parts of her body at the same time.
Pain was too soft a word. She was in absolute agony. Unbelievably agonising pains were racking her body. Though she was sure she was suffering from multiple injuries, her left side, in particular, felt like it had just been doused in acid. She could even smell the acrid odour of burning flesh. For a moment she thought she might pass out.
Golkar, he did it, she realised as a whole batch of further memories came flooding back to her all at once, triggered by the pain and pushing it aside as they jostled for attention within her mind. He threw that bolt of electricity or lightning or whatever it was at her and she had been sure that her time had come.
Well, I’m not dead yet, she thought to herself grimly as she pushed the pain aside and focused her attention on the wizard. She could feel her hatred for him welling up within her like hot lava surging within a volcano. What had been anger before, rage even, was now a hatred, unlike anything she had ever experienced before in her life. She had no idea how she had managed to survive his attack, but one thing was certainly clear: for the moment he seemed to be completely unaware that she had regained consciousness. From the look of things, he probably thought she was dead. The very thought of the vile creature gloating over her death pushed her emotions into the red.
I’ll make him sorry he didn’t finish me off when he had his chance. I’ll give him a fight like he’s never seen before in all of his days. Knowing that to delay would only aid her enemy, Sara gave full vent to her reinvigorated rage, hurling it from her in a sudden torrent of raw and unfettered energy, driving straight at Golkar as if she was wielding some almighty battering ram. This time she was determined to break down his defences and drive him right out of this world.
Though the force of its impact, coming as it did from a foe he thought he had finished, nearly knocked him from his feet, amazingly the wizard recovered quickly enough to weather the initial storm. The very strength of Sara’s blow had rung out a warning that had given him the chance to prepare for its impact. Even so, a lesser opponent than he would never have recovered in time. The fact that he did was proof, if ever she needed it, both of the extent of his power and the depths of the malice he drew on as its source. The tide of the battle, however, had changed.
This time the doubts that had hobbled Sara’s earlier attacks were nowhere to be seen. Sheer unadulterated revulsion, combined with furious anger, fuelled an attack the force of which had never before been seen in Ilythia. Bearing down on the wizard in an extraordinary display of power and determination, Sara drove him before her like a lamb to the slaughter. Before he could begin to mount a more orderly defence than the hasty one he had first contrived, he found he had been driven a full pace closer to the edge of the mirror.
The whole focus of Sara’s attack now centred on one thing and one thing alone, the portal. It was still open, its ragged edges clearly visible along the surface of the mirror behind Golkar. And that was her goal. That was where she intended to drive the monster that stood before her, and this time she was determined that nothing would divert her from achieving that end.
Pain is nothing, she thought to herself dourly, refusing to her allow her brain to respond to the frantic signals the nerves in her body kept sending. Fierce thoughts coursed through her, bolstering her will and fuelling her determination. Pain I can endure; but I cannot abide the presence of this monster in Ilythia for one more day, not even for one hour, not for one minute. Though the strength of her feelings startled her, she held to her purpose with grim resolve, wincing as the wizard joined battle with her once more. This time she would finish it. This time there would be no second chances.
Though Sara knew that he was desperately trying to resist her, she could tell that Golkar was worried. The look of desperation on his face told its tale. He had the appearance of a man who had looked his own fate in the eye and who had quailed at what he saw there. She guessed that the uncertainty etched across his harrowed features was sapping his strength now, just as her own doubts had sapped hers earlier. His self-assurance had deserted him, and for that, she had no pity.
Sara felt her own hope surge within her, fuelling her efforts to defeat him even further. This time she would see it through, though she knew that she had to hurry. The portal kept shimmering in and out of existence behind him. Josef was obviously fading. If he died, presumably the portal would close with him. And if that happened before she could force Golkar through it, then she wouldn’t know what to do to beat him.
And it wasn’t just Josef that was wavering; she knew that an attack the likes of which she had just unleashed couldn’t be maintained forever. Her reserves of energy were not unlimited. And yet still she was somehow winning . . . for the moment a
t least. Slowly, but surely, she was forcing Golkar back.
He didn’t seem to be able to muster the same capacity for resistance he had shown earlier. Perhaps his bag of tricks was empty. Maybe he had given her everything he had. The earlier battle must have drained him considerably. Perhaps whatever he had been up to while he had been away had also taken its toll. It didn’t really matter. The question was: would she be able to outlast him?
Sara refused to succumb to her own weariness, though she desperately felt the need to. She had to keep going. One slip now and all would be lost. She watched as Golkar almost stumbled as the back of his heel bumped into the base of the wall behind him. The portal was right behind him. She increased the pressure, digging even deeper than she already had. Somehow, incredibly, she began to force the wizard into the gaping hole behind him. It was unbelievable, but she was doing it. Despite his frantic attempts to resist her, Golkar was being driven into the portal.
The look of horror on his face told her that he knew the end was close. The portal seemed almost to be helping her now, drawing him in as if it had a will of its own, as if it was attracted to his energy. Within a few moments, he was almost through. He was holding on to the edges now in a last desperate attempt to stop her from achieving her goal. The main part of his body was swinging wildly behind him, already through the portal but starkly outlined against the bright light coming from wherever it led. He looked so bizarre, like a rag doll being sucked into some huge fan.
It was all so unreal. He was holding on to nothing now, a nothing, however, which he refused to let go of, a nothing that was his only remaining link with this world. The edges of the rent that had been opened by Josef were simply the edges of this plane of existence. They weren’t solid; they were just the air that bordered the portal. And yet, despite that, Golkar had a firm grip on them with both of his hands and was using them to stubbornly resist Sara’s attempt to push him right through and out of Ilythia. Try though she might, she couldn’t find the extra effort to dislodge him.
She was tiring rapidly now. She couldn’t keep this up for much longer. If she didn’t finish him soon, she would be spent. Her head began to spin and she felt the energy sapping from her limbs as she struggled vainly to maintain the pressure. Her vision began to blur as she struggled to keep from passing out. A vague shape suddenly hovered into view from the right side of her rapidly narrowing field of vision. It was Rayne. He was crawling towards the mirror.
“No, don’t,” she cried out. What did he think he was doing?
She watched in abject horror as Rayne slowly struggled to his feet beside the mirror. He and Golkar seemed to be locked in some battle of their own. They were staring at each other, each seemingly unable or unwilling to tear his gaze away from the other. Golkar was doing something to him, she realised, compelling him in some way that she couldn’t fathom. She had to do something. But what? She had barely the strength to stay conscious, and to keep pushing. She couldn’t divert her attention. Not now. She had to keep pushing, no matter what.
Slowly, Rayne moved closer to the edge of the mirror. As he did so, Golkar suddenly let go of one of the edges of the portal and reached out towards Rayne with his free hand. Sara’s heart seemed to stop beating. He was going to drag Rayne in with him. She was powerless to stop him. She was too weak now; it was too late for her to help him.
She watched in dismay as Rayne lifted his own hand. For the first time, she noticed the black crystal shard which hung from a chain around the wizard’s neck. While the main part of his body was being drawn back into the void, beyond the opening, the crystal, along the chain which held it, both of which had hitherto been hidden from view beneath the wizard’s tunic, was pulling in the opposite direction, back towards the room, as if it didn’t want to leave Ilythia, or some strange power connected to it was resisting the countervailing force which threatened to take it into the void.
“Begone,” Rayne hissed in a rasping voice as he suddenly and quite unexpectedly reached out and grabbed a hold of the dark crystal, snatching it and breaking the chain that held it around Golkar’s neck.
In that same instant, the Guardian lost his remaining hold of the edge of the portal and his body disappeared with an almighty rush into the piercing brightness of the void behind him. He was gone. Finally, he was gone. The portal snapped shut, closing off any chance of him finding a way back.
Rayne collapsed to the floor at the foot of the mirror as the portal winked out of existence, his hand releasing the crystal shard as he did so. The shard bounced across the wooden floor and came to rest only a few paces from where Rayne’s still form now lay. The reflection of the wizard’s chamber on the surface of the glass gave no hint that the mirror had ever been anything else than a simple looking glass.
Chapter 15
Grartok roared mightily as he raised his hands above his head in exultation. His brother’s blood dripped down from the blade of the axe that he held suspended above him and onto the dull surface of the hardened leather breastplate that covered his broad and muscled torso. The roar of voices around him as he stood there, gloating over the bloodied carcass of his meddlesome brother, was music to his ears. There was no finer sound to a slig warrior. If ever any had doubted his right to lead them, his victory over his brother had effectively silenced even his harshest critic. The lifeless body at his feet presaged a similar fate for any who dared to challenge him.
“Sound the attack,” he shouted as he pushed his way through the throng of surrounding warriors and beckoned for his horse to be brought to him. As he climbed up onto the back of the beast, he could hear the horns ringing out across the open field below them. The roar that followed as the Sagath host surged forward in response to the signal sent another surge of blood-lust through his veins. He raised his axe again as he steadied his mount below him.
“Come,” he cried to his fellow warriors as they rushed to mount their own steeds. “Let’s put an end to these troublesome Algarians once and for all.” With that, he spurred his horse forward and raced down the slope in hot pursuit of his charging army, not bothering to wait for the rest of his entourage to follow.
As he urged his horse on, eager to join in the slaughter that was about to begin, he knew that his finest moment was upon him. The culmination of all his plans, of all his dreams, would be here on the field of battle before the walls of his enemy’s most prized possession, their capital, Keerêt. Nothing could stop the Sagath now. Nothing could stop him from achieving his destiny. Everything had gone just as he had known it would.
He counted off his achievements in his mind. He had risen to become First Warrior of the Sagath, the bravest of all of the slig tribes. He had waged war on the most hated of all the slig’s enemies and had driven them relentlessly back across their territory until they could retreat no further; and now . . . now he was about to lead the Sagath to their final victory. His scheming brother was dead, by his own hand in single combat. He had an heir, a male child that would one day take his own place at the very pinnacle of the slig nation, as First Warrior of the First Tribe, as the first King of the sligs, perhaps even as Lord of all Ilythia.
And when he was done here, he thought, as the hand of spite gripped and squeezed his heart, he would deal with Norag, the one remaining blot on his record. It wouldn’t do to have the lad grow up thinking he had put one over on his leader. If Golkar had known about it sooner he’d be lying in a dung heap right now. And once Mardur had borne his child, he would kill her as well. He would let her live, for now, let her think she was safe and free from danger, let her think he knew nothing of her treachery. Then, when she had served her purpose, he would . . . replace her . . . with someone more respectful, someone more accommodating, someone . . . someone like Varna perhaps, or one of the others.
Grartok’s dreams were swept aside as his mount crested the rise he had watched his army sweep over only moments beforehand. Below him, not far from him now, the bulk of his forces swept on. He could see that there had been preci
ous little resistance from the Algarians here at their first line of defence. They must have turned and fled at the first sign of the charge.
Down through the rolling hills below him and out into the plain below, the Algarians were running before his warriors now in a wild panic. Once again, Grartok spurred his mount on, slashing down with his axe to bring down an Algarian straggler who had somehow survived the initial assault and was struggling to rise from where he had fallen. There seemed to be too few of them though. Where were all the dead bodies? The position his warriors had overrun must have been manned by only a skeleton force. Curse the Algarians; they must have known they couldn’t hold this position.
Looking out beyond the van of his host, Grartok could now see, way off in the distance, the plain that surrounded the great city. Even from here, he could see it was full of Algarians, scurrying for the safety of the city walls. They must have withdrawn the bulk of their force long before the charge had begun. It would be a race now, a race to see how many they could cut down before they got inside the city. This would be even better than he had thought it would be.
Spurring his horse on again and veering slightly to his left, Golkar leaned over in his saddle to slash at a Ranger who was frantically limping towards a small ditch in which a few of his wounded companions had already taken cover. As the slig leader did so, he heard a strange whooshing sound from behind him, as if a bird were about to swoop down low over his head. Ignoring the distraction, he swung at his foe, catching him a glancing blow across his shoulders and bowling him over as his horse swept past him. Suddenly, a huge shadow swept over both him and his mount, disappearing again as rapidly as it had appeared, leaving them drenched in the light of the burning sun once more. Turning his eyes skyward, Grartok was startled to see a huge winged beast sweep past him, only a metre or two above his head.
