Into Oblivion (Book 4) (22 page)

Maedoc leaned in closer. “I must admit,” he whispered. “I have never done anything like this before. It is quite exhilarating.”

“And it will become even more so,” Aeli replied. “It will take all of us to create enough power to pull her out of limbo and bind her to her new body. And I think only Farouk has the ability to force her into material form.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was something he said before,” Aeli explained. “About a dream he had through King Eamon’s eyes. He dreamt of equations that had been given to the king from some outside power. I think they are a spell to force energy into becoming matter.”

“Hmmm,” Maedoc exclaimed. “Interesting. Some kind of strange field that can create something from… well… not nothing, I suppose. Energy is definitely something.”

“I don’t quite understand it myself, but I think Farouk does.”

“He understands quite a bit for a man half my age,” Maedoc joked.

Aeli grinned. “Don’t forget, Maedoc,” she said. “I’m older than you.”

“Come now,” Maedoc said
, smiling. “Let’s see what Traegus is up to.”

Traegus had fetched a large copper tub from his shelves and placed it on the floor. From his memory, he had traced an arcane circle on the floor around the tub, complete with a six pointed star where each participating person would stand during the spell.

Six points was one too many, Aeli noted. Unless…

“Traegus,” she said. “There are six points.”

“Yes,” Traegus replied. “When Allora is fully formed, she will take her place on the sixth point to close the portal.”

Aeli breathed a sigh of relief, but somehow knew that Traegus’ words were not entirely true. However, she kept her thoughts to herself, looking back to Jodocus, who had curled up next to the moorcat.

Maedoc placed the skull in the copper tub, and then stood. He lowered his staff and conjured a crushing force that pulverized the remains into a fine powder.

“Faeraon’s blood…” Maedoc said.

The Alvar king brought the small vial to Maedoc, who held it up to the torchlight. It was an odd purplish color, he noticed, with tiny swirls that glowed and writhed within.

“Odd,” he said, pouring the blood onto the powder.

There was a sizzling sound as the blood mixed. Aeli stepped closer, focusing her mind on combining the two in a more organic way. She forced the blood to bond with the bone fragments, speaking Allora’s name over and over again as she waved her energized hands over the tub.

“What is happening?” Faeraon asked. Maedoc led him to Allora’s side, motioning for him to kneel beside her.

“Now,” Aeli spoke. “Concentrate on the way she looked when you last saw her. Think of things she did in the past. Feel your love for her flow into the mixture.”

Faeraon closed his eyes, following Aeli’s instructions to the letter. His hands shook as he held them above Allora’s remains. It wasn’t long before his loving smile became a sorrowful frown. As he clenched his eyes tighter, tears began to appear in the corners. Aeli felt his pain, and tears came to her eyes as well. She could truly feel the powerful love that this king had for his only child. His anguish was great, and his love for her was stronger than anything Aeli had ever felt.

Faeraon faltered, his body beginning to sway as he weakened. He began to hum
a disturbing tune; a lullaby, perhaps—a requiem. It was one that was dark and full of pain.

Suddenly, Faeraon began to cry.

“Aeli…” Maedoc said.

Aeli nudged Faeraon,
putting her hands on his shoulders to keep him stable. His sobbing grew stronger, and she embraced him to comfort him. As she held him, she looked down into the tub, seeing the formula almost complete. All that was needed was the soil from Faeraon’s world.

She hoped Farouk would return soon.

Chapter Twenty

Garret appeared in the dark cavern as the unknown woman was struggling with her bonds. She looked up immediately, appearing shocked. Garret, not recognizing her, held out his hands to calm her. She stopped, eyeing him suspiciously as he approached.

“I won’t harm you,” he said.

“Mmmph!”

Garret reached out, pulling off her gag. She immediately bit his hand.

“Damn it!” he cursed. “I am trying to help you escape. You are in danger.”

“No man touches me!” she hissed.

“Don’t worry,” Garret said, pulling out his dagger. “I’ll just cut your bonds and we’ll be on our way.”

“You look familiar,” the woman said
, her eyes suddenly softening. “Have we met?”

Garret shrugged, moving behind her. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”

The assassin sawed through her bonds and let them fall to the floor. The woman rubbed her hands together, relieving the chafing on her wrists.

“I know I’ve met you before,” she said. “Somewhere. What is your name?”

“Garret. And you?”

“Twylla,” she replied. “Maybe you’re a friend of my father’s. Or Hargis, even.”

“Hargis?”

“Hargis the Mad. My father is Jax, the innkeeper.”

Garret shrugged again, yet somehow a sense of familiarity began to grow within him. She did look familiar, he thought, but he had no idea where they had met.

“It’s not important at the moment,” Garret said. “I need to get you out of here. Do you know where you are?”

Twylla shook her head. “Not exactly,” she said. “Somewhere near Argan, I think.”

Garret nodded, scouting the cavern for any tunnels that would lead them out. There were two, each as unpromising as the other.

“Are you left-handed or right-handed?” Garret asked.

“Right-handed,” she replied. “Why?”

Garret started off for the right-hand tunnel, beckoning her to follow.

“That’s great,” she said. “Nice decision making.”

“Did you have any better ideas?”

Twylla said nothing, but followed him into the tunnel.

There was a strange glow from the walls, as if some kind of luminescent life forms were growing upon them. It was a light reddish glow, almost pink. Garret felt an odd warmth from it as they passed through.

After a few minutes of travel, the tunnel began to tighten. The two of the
m had to squeeze through narrow gaps that were often small enough to have to suck in their breath to get by. The tunnel’s floor was uneven, as well, making the trek somewhat time consuming and tiring.

Garret noticed that the woman behind him was not breathless, however. Strange, he thought.

“Tell me about yourself,” Garret said.

“Haven’t I told you enough already?” she replied. “You just appear in this cavern where I’m tied up and start asking me questions?”

“How did you get there?”

Twylla sighed. “I don’t rightly remember. The only thing I do remember is fetching some flour from my pantry and then… well… I was here.”

The tunnel began to widen somewhat, and Garret could feel a warm breeze and see the faint sign of outside light. Another cavern would be ahead, judging by the increasing size of the tunnel, and there would possibly be a way out. Garret stopped, turning to Twylla.

“There may be danger ahead,” he said, pulling a small dirk from his belt and handing it to her. She took it in her left hand, twirling it like an expert.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good blade.”

Garret turned back in the direction of the cavern, continuing the rough trek through the tunnel. As it became wide and high enough to stand comfortably, he stopped again.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll check ahead.”

“Alright.”

Garret crept forward, keeping his eyes peeled for any movements in the shadows. There was a steady ray of light in the cavern ahead that shown on the far walls of the tunnel. There was nothing to be concerned about. The cavern opened up to the right, gradually sloping upward toward an opening in the ceiling.

And that’s when the sudden realization came.

Twylla had said she was right-handed… but took the dirk with her left hand.

He gulped.

“How did it feel, Garret?” came her voice from down the tunnel. “How did it feel to murder the woman you love?”

Garret spun quickly, his saber whipping out of its scabbard as fast as lightning.

“Did she know it was you? Did she say your name as she died?”

Garret was still, his mind racing, his heart pounding. Thoughts began to form in his head. Thoughts of the queen. The queen who bled. Her blood… on his blade.

“Did you look into her eyes? Were they like her sister’s eyes?”

Her eyes. He remembered
them. He had known in his dream that he couldn’t look into her eyes. And when he did, he had awakened. There was betrayal in her eyes; her beautiful green eyes.

Why?

“Does your king know that you murdered his mother?”

Garret shot off toward the cavern, leaving the voice behind. He reached the
mouth of it, seeing that it was as he expected. There were, however, no exits. No way out other than the opening in the ceiling.

He was trapped.

A dark figure emerged from the tunnel as Garret turned back.

Akharu.

The demon was impossibly tall; taller than Wrothgaar.

Wrothgaar?

It was nothing more than shadow in human form; armored in darker shadow and wielding a blade as black as the abyss. The dark cloak it wore swirled around it like black flame, whipping through the cold wind that followed it from the tunnel.

“Hello, Scorpion,” the demon said. “We meet at last.”

“Who are you?” Garret demanded.

Akharu chuckled, his voice echoing off the walls in a frightening chorus.

“You already know my name.”

“What do you want?”

Akharu reached up to lower his cowl, revealing a dark red, sinister face with glowing red eyes that shone with all the fury of Hell. His hair was stringy and black, and his fangs were yellow and dripping with venom.

“I only want to kill you,” Akharu said. “That is all.”

Garret swooshed his saber quickly in front of him, inviting the demon to commence its mission. Akharu grinned, his yellow fangs glistening in the dim light.

“Get to it, then,” Garret taunted.

Akharu paced from side to side, evaluating Garret’s stance. Before he could react, Garret struck.

He leaped forward in a spinning strike, his blade cutting the air with a high pitched whistle. Akharu blocked with
his gauntlet, countering with a spinning slash of his own. Garret blocked as he landed, spinning behind the demon and immediately thrusting at its back. Akharu dodged, leaping backward as he turned to face the assassin.

“You’re very quick for a human,” Akharu said.

“I’ve been doing this for a while now,” Garret retorted, stepping forward to unleash a series of diagonal attacks.

The sounds of clanking metal echoed in the cavern as the demon blocked and countered with equally quick strikes. The two traded blows in a furious display, lighting the cavern with the magical sparks of their colliding blades.

Akharu charged, alternating between side to side strikes and spinning slashes that drove Garret back. But the assassin rolled forward, thrusting upward as he tumbled past. His blade caught Akharu in the upper arm, sending the demon back, screaming in pain.

“I don’t have time for this,” Garret said, shooting his grappling hook at the cavern’s ceiling. Akharu, holding his wound and gritting his fangs, watched as the assassin was pulled upward and propelled through the opening in the ceiling.

Growling, Akharu leaped upward, following the assassin to the surface.

Garret saw the demon rise from the opening, landing straddled across the gap. The two had emerged on a tall cliff that dropped off into the sea. Garret’s memory told him he was on the west coast, near Argan. It was a good place to do battle.

“Tell me, Scorpion,” Akharu said, stepping onto solid ground. “Did you allow your own son to kill you out of love, or were you simply shocked that he existed?”

“I have no children, demon,” Garret replied, but knowing in his heart that Akharu spoke the truth. His words stung Garret’s heart, and more memories came flooding back. Ignoring them as best he could, he charged Akharu again, growling with rage.

He leaped into the air, turning his blade to thrust downward. Akharu dodged, tripping over a group of rocks that lay around the cavern’s opening. As Garret landed, he spun to face the demon, stepping toward him quickly to thrust downward. Akharu rolled away, flipping back to his feet and stabbing his blade behind him.

Garret winced as the dark blade pierced his ribcage. The pain was incredible, and he felt The Lifegiver’s magic course through his veins. Akharu relaxed his posture, watching Garret as he stumbled off.

“It seems you’re not as quick as I thought,” Akharu taunted. “Shall I finish you off, or shall I tell you more about yourself?”

“Go back to Hell,” Garret hissed. His vision began to blur as he headed toward to the sea. His thoughts and feelings began to overwhelm him, the emotions doubling the pain that already existed.

“You died at Faerbane,” Akharu said, casually walking toward him. “It was Eogan. The son of Queen Maebh, and you.”

Garret continued his slow escape. Visions of Eogan flashed in his mind as the memories returned.
He saw the hatred in the boy’s eyes, felt the knife in his heart, and heard the boy’s laughter. The event that resulted in his death then began to play backwards. He saw himself kneeling over Siobhan, cradling her body in his arms as he watched the life drain from her eyes. He had killed her. He had killed his love.

He was a murderer.

Akharu stopped as he heard Garret sob. He sheathed his sword, knowing that his mission was successful. Though not in an assassin’s nature to allow his target to suffer, the demon found amusement in Garret’s pain; not only the pain of his wound, but the pain of sudden realization. Satisfied, he squatted, watching the assassin curiously as he continued to stumble toward the cliff.

“Where are you going, Scorpion?” he asked. “I want to watch you die, as you did Siobhan.”

That was it. Garret growled, picking up his pace to sprint toward the edge. He screamed at the top of his lungs, allowing the pain and anger to fill him.

Sensing he was about to lose sight of his target, Akh
aru leaped up, drawing his blade and chasing Garret before he could get away.

As Garret leaped over the edge, he spun, drawing a dagger from his belt and hurling
it at the demon. The blade struck Akharu in the chest, where his heart would be. The demon howled in pain, grasping the hilt as he watched Garret disappear over the cliff.

Growling with rage, he stumbled over to the edge, glaring down at Garret as he fell.

As he descended toward the sea, Garret had the feeling that he had been in this position before. He remembered receiving
the fatal blow at the hands of his own son. As then, he now watched the face of his killer as it grew smaller with his ascent.

Garret smiled as he saw the expression of rage on Akharu’s face.

Then, there was blackness.

Akharu cursed as he sheathed his blade. Though the dagger that stuck out from his chest was painful, it was harmless. He had no heart. It was a mere inconvenience.

“Until next time, Scorpion,” he whispered.

Akharu,
The Lifegiver spoke.

“Yes, my master.”

I have watched the battle. I am impressed. Your skills are far beyond my expectations, and your taunting was amusing to me.

“I have fail
ed you, my master,” Akharu said, shaking his head.

No. You have done well. You have achieved far more than the Corruptor has. You have my blessing, and my thanks.

“Thank you for your mercy, master.”

For now, forget about the assassin. You have achieved your goal, and done my will. I am proud of
you, my son.

Akharu smiled, pleased to serve his master. “What is your command, my lord?”

Find King Eamon and destroy him. I have faith you will be more successful than your counterpart.

The demon bowed his head. “Your will be done.”

The Corrupter felt the opening of the rift once again. Even at this distance, he was able discern the crossing of the Grand Druid, whom he now considered his greatest obstacle. The Druid had crossed into Alvheim
directly from the tower. Why, he could not guess. Faeraon was already here in this realm, and there was nothing left in Alvheim to salvage.

However, there seemed to be a gathering of sorts happening at Southwatch, where he was now headed. The Corruptor decided to teleport nearby, but to walk the remaining mile or so in order to avoid detection. If the Druids and their ilk sense his presence, he would lose the element of surprise.