by C. M. Hayden
I wish I’d gone back. I wish I’d been wise enough to know when to back down, when to retreat, when to know I was in over my head.
I was a fool.
- 13 -
Sith-Narosa
We reached the base of Syseril in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun rose over the trees. Patches of light broke through the fog and mist, but it was still hard to see. As we neared, however, the trees began to clear up. We hadn’t entered a clearing, rather the trees had completely collapsed into black pools of rotting wood, as though they’d eaten themselves from the inside.
Other plants had followed suit, collapsed into a pool of blackish-green ichor. Everything was dead and dying. The long reeds throughout the marsh were shriveled, the lily pads crumbled to dust, and even the insects seemed to avoid this place. The mist was the only thing that remained, and steam seemed to billow out from the ground like there was a great furnace beneath the earth.
Syseril’s base loomed over us as we approached it, looking for the doorway. With the thick mist, this was no easy task, but splitting up wasn’t an option.
“There should be a marker of some kind,” I said. “Something to point us in the right direction. Keep your eyes peeled.”
We walked aimlessly through the corrupted marsh until something came into focus. It was a tall, square pillar over twenty feet high. The base was made of weathered black stone, and on the top was an ornate dragon statue. The statue was identical to the one in Magister Lao’s chambers. I circled around the pillar, trying to see if there was any mechanism on it or instructions on how to proceed.
There were engravings, what looked like words, but the language wasn’t even vaguely familiar to me. It wasn’t Deific. It certainly wasn’t Amínnic. It didn’t even use the classic characters common to both languages.
I turned to ask if anyone knew what language it was; but as I did, I saw the truth of it in Kurian’s eyes. He glared up at the statue, and I backed away from.
“It’s Draconic, isn’t it?” I asked flatly.
He nodded.
I motioned toward the words. “What does it say?”
His lips moved as though he was reading it to himself. He winced, tilted his head, and took a hard breath. Then, he read the text aloud: “Here lies the Great Demon of the Old World. The Seething Corruption. The Last Darkness. The first triumph of Craetos the All-Seer, King of Dragons. Those who pass this marker, beware, for there is no return. Sith-Narosa the Devourer, Right Hand of Nuruthil, will not abide intruders.”
We were all silent for a long moment, as Kurian seemed to re-read to himself in his native language. “That’s all it says,” he said. “I doubt the Liat would be able to read it. They might think it’s a holy marker.”
“Sith-Narosa,” Kadia said to herself. She squinted as though she were thinking, then slumped her pack onto the ground and began to rummage through. She retrieved the book we’d found on the monk’s body.
She ushered Fenn toward her and pointed to a passage.
Fenn read it aloud: “From the deepest fathoms of the Void, the great reach between worlds, Nuruthil called. His seething malice bubbled forth onto the land, and therewith his call was answered. From the darkness crept his dread-lieutenants: Isaroth, Suborgath, Cthurihl, and Sith-Narosa, eager to fulfill his dark design.”
We were all quiet for the span of several breathes. Kurian spoke first, and I could hear a slight tremor in his cadence.
“It is a prison,” he said, motioning at Syseril. “The whole thing. Craetos must’ve built it to hold—” He read the name again, slowly, as if trying to pronounce it correctly. “Sith-Narosa.”
Kadia shushed him hard, holding up her hand to his face. “Stop.”
Kurian seemed surprised, but complied. “What?”
“Don’t say its name,” she answered, her voice barely topping a whisper. She turned back to us. “We have to go. Right now.”
“What is it, Kadia?” I asked, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder. She shrugged me off.
Kadia gave me an incredulous look. Her normal quiet voice peeled away for a moment, leaving only white-hot fear. “Every Helian child knows about these creatures. I always thought they were faerie tales, stories parents told their children so they’d behave. They drive men mad just by their whispers. They can hollow-out your body, and walk around in your skin like you’re a puppet.”
“It’s trapped in the tree, though,” Fenn offered. “And apparently, it’s kept the creature locked inside for over a thousand years.”
“Then how do you explain the animals?” Dia said. Though it was extremely hot and humid, she was shivering.
Fenn didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Why would it start to fail now?” he asked.
Something awoke inside my mind, I felt a chill sweep over me. “That’s the wrong question.”
I turned and stared daggers into Kurian. It was all so clear to me now, that I was astonished I hadn’t put it together sooner. He noticed me looking at him and met my eyes.
“What other question is there?” he asked.
“This can’t be a coincidence,” I said breathlessly.
Kurian seemed to be growing increasingly annoyed at my lack of answers. “What can’t?”
“You,” I said flatly. “You don’t think it’s strange that your grandfather built all this, and now, somehow, just as it begins to fail and the corruption is creeping out, you just happen to be trialing?”
“What are you getting at?” Fenn said. “There’s no way the Magisterium knew about all this, they’d have sent an army.”
I swallowed hard and, in the farthest reaches of my hearing, I heard footsteps nearing us. “They didn’t need to know,” I said. “Only one magister needed to know: Magister Lao.”
A slow, rhythmic clapping came from the mist around us, growing louder, until the thin, boney form of Magister Lao came into focus. He didn’t look like himself. His skin was peeling and had rotten, his eyes were coal-black, and there were tendrils skittering through his skin and coming out of various parts of his body. When he spoke, it was no human voice.
“Astounding. Simply astounding. I must admit, I hadn’t expected you to figure this out so quickly,” the thing inhabiting Lao said, stepping toward us with slow deliberateness. “You really are the best and the brightest your species has to offer.”
At once, everyone took a defensive posture and backed up.
“There’s no need for all that,” it continued, pointing at Kurian. “And you, sweet boy, you’re exactly the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. I never thought a dragon would ever willingly visit here again. You’ve got just enough human inside you to make you stupid. Delightful.”
“Why?” Kurian asked. His voice was commanding, but I could hear the abject fear behind it.
The thing inhabiting Lao shambled forward, some of the flesh falling aside. “You lot have figured so much out, you need me to fill in the rest? Very well. Your grandfather’s blood courses through you, so only you can free me from this living Hell.
“Magister Lao was helpful for a time; before he came, the Liat would stay well-away from the tree itself. But, of course, magisters are a curious lot. He came inside and tinkered with the wards keeping me here. Not much, just enough to let a small part of my essence creep out into the world.”
Lao’s body was now only a few feet from us, and the others were looking like they were ready to flee. I couldn’t blame them.
“Run,” Kurian whispered to them.
Kadia, Rokan, and Dia didn’t need a second invitation. They bolted away as fast as they could, but the ground beneath their feet rumbled, and long, gray tendrils swept up, wrapping around their legs and smacking them into the ground.
The creature inside Lao continued. “I must admit I feel dishonest. I promised Lao many things, all of which I intended on delivering. Alas, I find I can’t inhabit a mortal body for long before it falls to pieces, mind and body.” As he said this, his right eye drooped down,
and he had to shove it back into its socket.
Fenn shoved me hard against the arm, patting my side satchel. I realized what he wanted me to do, and I removed one of my flash grenades and hurled it toward Magister Lao’s body. It exploded in a flash of light, and Fenn, in a remarkable show of bravery, charged at the creature with his sword drawn.
Kurian started forward, as if to stop him, but Fenn was already much too far ahead. I moved forward to help, but Kurian held me back with an iron grip. I struggled against him for a moment, but he wouldn’t let up.
It was hard to see in the fog and chaos, but as Fenn approached Lao, a single tendril pierced him through the chest. His body shook, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
“Do you see what I mean about humans?” the creature said. “I’m ageless. Craetos himself couldn’t kill me, but you little children think you can simply hack me to bits. If it wasn’t so pitiful, it would be adorable.”
Fenn’s body fell to the ground, and Lao stepped over him, moving close enough to grab Kurian by the shoulder. He pulled Kurian in close, his flesh shaking unnaturally and his teeth falling out.
“That’s a good lad, don’t fight,” the creature said. “You realize that your strength’s not going to save you here. I’m going to give you a choice. Follow me inside, willingly, and I’ll let your friends live.” He looked down at Fenn’s body. “Well, except that one.”
When he said this last bit, the creature laughed wildly. It was not a human laugh. It was wide, and shrill, and terrible. I felt it inside me, and wanted nothing more than to run away.
Kurian turned to looked at us. His eyes seemed several shades darker, and he looked back at Lao without a hint of fear. “I’m not going to help free you. I’d rather die.”
Lao smiled a toothy grin. “Oh, you will die. I’m not offering you your own life, I’m offering you theirs.” He motioned toward us. “I may not be able to get my revenge on your blessed grandfather, but you. Oh, I’ve got some ideas what to do with you. Let’s see if the human inside you has made you soft.”
One of the tendrils holding Dia swept forward, smacking her onto the ground near Kurian.
“Please, no,” Dia pleaded.
Lao pointed to her. “Now, I’m not sure, is this one of your favorites?” He made a motion with his hand, a simple twitch, and Dia fell down dead.
Kurian winced but did not speak.
“No?” Lao said, pursing his lips.
In one brief motion, Kurian’s eyes turned to me. It was a merest thing, barely a glance, but the creature noticed. Lao smiled devilishly, and Kurian’s demeanor fell to pieces.
“Don’t touch her,” Kurian said, in the most dead-serious tone I’d ever heard him use.
“There we are,” Lao said, and I felt the tendrils running up my legs and torso.
I tried to be brave, but I could feel my tears hot on my cheeks. I looked at Kurian and spoke in a wavering voice. “Don’t do it. It’s going to kill us anyway. Just run. Get away.”
While the creature slithered up my arms, I managed to press my finger into the groove on the necklace Magister Ross had given me. I honestly thought it would be my last act alive, and soon I felt the tendril digging into me. I cried out and saw Kurian’s pained looks as he listened. I didn’t expect him to give in, and I thought these would be my last moments. I was going to die.
However, Kurian couldn’t take it anymore. “STOP,” he shouted.
The creature let me go, and I fell down, panting and gasping for air. I checked my body and found I was still in one piece.
Kurian looked at me, his yellow eyes full of tears. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Please, just stop. Not her. I’ll go with you.”
The creature had a terrible smile on his rotting face, and he released Rokan. “You are free to go.”
“What about Kyra?” Kurian said.
“We’re going to keep her around,” Lao said. “Until the end.”
I expected Rokan to at least try to save us, but he did nothing of the sort. The moment he was free, he made a run for it. I honestly couldn’t blame them.
Kurian helped me to my feet and pulled me into a hug. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I think so.” I looked at Kadia, who was still trapped. “What about her? Let her go, too.”
At my words, Magister Lao’s body fell to pieces like a wet meat sack, and bunches of wriggling matter that held him up slithered away toward Kadia. She thrashed but couldn’t stop them from swarming her. Kurian kept me from intervening, and when the tendrils released her, I knew at once that Kadia wasn’t herself anymore.
- 14 -
The Warden
Kadia’s body stood, not bothering to brush the dirt and muck from her arms. The creature was inside of her now. It would take time before it began to damager her, and she looked like the same sweet Helian girl I’d always known.
The creature ushered for us to follow her past the dragon statue, toward the gates of Syseril. They were built directly into the bark of the great tree, jagged around the edges. They were marked with a great many prayer candles and offerings to the Old Gods, most likely left by the Liat. There were red and white grooves in the bark, and I inserted the sun and earth keys into their corresponding colors.
For a moment, the whole world seemed to shake. The tree trembled, and dust and leaves sifting from the tops. The bark peeled back in a very mechanical way, and the opening was clear. Kurian and I entered and looked back at the creature, who made no motion to continue.
It made eye contact with me. “I cannot enter the outer chambers.” It licked its lips. “I’d say you have one hour before the damage to your friend’s brain becomes irreparable.” It pointed to Kurian. “The magic holding me will respond to his commands. Release me, and no more of your friends need to die.”
We stepped forward into the chamber in silence. The inside was smaller than I expected, about the size of a large Mast chapel. Around the room were decorations and ornate fixtures, obviously added after the fact: jade dragon statues, offerings of gold and gemstones piled high.
In the back of the chamber on a raised dais was what, at first, appeared to be an altar of some sort. There were several dozen candles on the top, all in various melted stages, and dried wax was running down the side. Though it was obscured, my time in the Magisterium hadn’t been for nothing, and I recognized it as a device of the Old Gods immediately.
“Is this it?” I said, running my hands along the smooth stone box. It had hard lines on the sides of it, glowing with some internal power source. There were Deific and Draconic symbols adorning the top and carved images of dragons holding up the sun.
“No,” Kurian said, giving it a significant look. “This is just the entrance. This is as far as Lao could’ve gotten.” He grimaced and placed his hand on the altar. “Without me, at least.”
There was a hard clicking sound as the device responded to his touch; the room shook and the wall behind the altar retracted.
Believe it or not, the other side was a familiar sight. Smooth white stone, burnished steel, gears clinking, and steam rising. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was back at the Magisterium. I took a cautious step inside and looked up. There were at least a hundred stories, rising up a central spiral that led to the top of Syseril. There was no doubt about it, the construction was identical to the Magisterium tower. Uncanny, in fact. The only real differences were that this structure was largely hollow, without many of the additions that magisters had tacked on over the centuries.
I looked to Kurian. “It’s a machine,” I said. “The entire thing.”
High in the center of the spiral was what I could only describe as a mass. It seemed to be alive. It was moving, veins along the sides were pulsing, and I could feel a hideous malice emanating from it like a smoldering coal.
The mass of flesh and tendrils was bound in transparent chains that seemed like they were forged from glass and starlight. Each link of the chains was as tall as a fully grown man, and they seemed to b
e enchanted in a way I couldn’t even fathom.
On the same level as us was a podium, standing in front of a glowing glass circle. When Kurian approached it, I grabbed him by the shoulder.
“We should stay here.”
“We can’t just stay here forever,” Kurian said, though he didn’t pull away at first.
“We don’t have to. Before we left, Ross gave me something to signal her if my life was in danger. This place is going to be swarming with warders soon.”
Kurian looked hopeful, for a moment, but then his expression fell. “In an hour, Kadia’s going to end up like Magister Lao. We can’t let that happen.”
“But we can’t let that thing out of here,” I insisted.
“No, we can’t.” He looked up at the seething mass overhead. “There has to be a way to kill it.”
“If there was, don’t you think Craetos would’ve done it a long time ago?” I said, quickly.
Kurian stepped toward the dais. “Maybe.”
There were two small steps in front of the pedestal, which Kurian stepped onto. When he did, there was a burst of light from the glass circle on the floor. An image appeared, composed all of colored light. There was a static in the air, and the image of a woman came into focus. She had no expression on her face, whatsoever, and reminded me of a grade school teacher. She was dressed all in white and gold, and on her head was a crown of stars.
Kurian set his hands on the console in front of him, and I heard a pricking sound. Kurian pulled his hand back as if something had bit him, and I saw a thin bead of blood drip down his palm.
The woman spoke without any particular tone or inflection, and her eyes never looked directly at us.
“Identity confirmed,” she said. Her voice was cold and metallic. “Please state your query, or enter it manually on the key console before you.”
Kurian looked at me, then back at the woman.
“Who…what are you?” he asked.
“I am the Warden. My primary function is the maintenance and upkeep of Syseril. Will this complete your inquiries?”
