Into Oblivion (Book 4) (24 page)

“He would not recognize another Firstborn if he has never met one.”

The Dragon pursed his lips in thought. Khalid was right. Kingu had been trapped within the Earth since the beginning. The only other life forms he had ever met were his own Mother spirit, and the creatures he had created. Even then, when his worshipers brought captives back from the surface, they would be too primitive to exude much power on their own.

“We need to get closer,” the Dragon said. “We have to find out where Theia is being kept. I am guessing the brighter orange light in the center of the ruins is her essence.”

Khalid nodded, following the Dragon as he crept inward. They wound in and out of the stone rubble, keeping to the shadows, peeking over and around the ruins to keep their eyes on Kingu. The giant Firstborn seemed to be scanning the cavern, his glowing eyes casting scattered rays of red light that pierced the darkness.

“Where are you?” Kingu’s voice boomed, its deep tone shaking the cavern. “Show yourself to me.”

“I understood him,” Khalid whispered. He saw the Dragon nod his head.

“Where are my children?” the giant continued.

The Dragon stopped, turning to Khalid. In his hand he held a skull that he had picked up off of the ground. It was humanoid in appearance, but horned and fanged much like Kingu himself. Upon its surface were millennia of lime deposits and the bone itself was pitted and fragile.

“He created them in his image,” Khalid remarked. “And now they are gone.”

The Dragon placed the skull back on the cavern floor. He stared at it for a moment, imagining how he would feel if his own creations had suffered the same fate; however, he had never been granted the power of creation. It was forbidden.

“What is it?” Khalid asked, sensing his turmoil.

“He created them,” the Dragon replied. “A Firstborn should never be granted the power of creation. Only preservation or destruction.”

“So?”

“This does not bode well. It may mean that Kingu has been feeding upon his own Mother.”

Khalid glanced at Kingu, who was now stepping toward the orange light in the center of the cavern. Though the light was still bright, Khalid sensed that it was not as it should be. Not that it should be brighter, but it seemed to him that it should be a different color.

“Does a Mother spirit’s energy reflect her mood or her health?” he asked.

“It would be different for each spirit,” the Dragon said. “Gaia’s energy is blue or green, depending on her mood. It is still those colors, regardless of how weak she is growing.”

Khalid sighed. “I wonder what color Theia’s energy should be.”

As the Dragon shook his head, Kingu took another step, quickening his pace and stepping around what Khalid could now see was a great circular formation; a pool, perhaps.

“Duck!” the Dragon whispered harshly.

Khalid’s head disappeared behind the ruins as Kingu’s eyes cast its
red light in their direction. The ray of energy stopped at the collapsed wall they crouched behind and hovered there. A low growl shook the cavern, and the Dragon turned to look back at his priest. His face reflected his concern.

Kingu had spotted them.

Chapter Twenty Two

When Farouk returned, he found his friends gathered in Traegus’ summoning chamber. They were preparing to take their places around the arcane circle, and a vat of liquid was centered on the floor. Farouk carried the sack of soil he had gathered to the vat, and looked to Aeli from her instruction.

“Pour it in the mixture,” she said, joining Farouk in the center.

Farouk opened the sack, carefully pouring the dusty, dry soil into the vat. Aeli waved her staff through the stream of dust as it fell, charging the particles with her spell. When each clump of dirt and particle of dust hit the strange liquid, it immediately spread out and mixed in with the compound. Soon, the contents of the vat appeared as clay, shimmering with the magic of the Druid’s spell.

Aeli then knelt, nodding to Farouk that she was ready. Faeraon, Traegus, and Maedoc looked on as he went to stand at his position around the circle. Farouk gave Faeraon a nod of encouragement.

“I have faith in Aeli,” Farouk said. Faeraon smiled sadly.

Aeli closed her eyes, laying her staff to the side, and held her hands above the vat of clay. The others could see her lips moving, but could not hear her words. They all felt the gathering of magic as she drew it from the Earth, using her own body as the conduit.

“Great Mother,” she spoke. “With this blood, this essence, and this clay, we ask that you create this being once again. Imbue it with your blessing, your power, and your love. Her soul wanders in Limbo without a proper vessel in which to dwell. Make it so.”

Aeli nodded to the others to get their attention.

“Focus on carrying that message to the Great Mother,” she said. “She will hear us. Farouk, ask your friends on higher planes for their help.”

Farouk closed his eyes, tapping his staff on the floor. A flash of blue light appeared, snaking out of his gem and striking the floor. Six balls of light appeared, growing into the vague humanoid shapes of what were once Defilers. Now, they were beings of light, exuding power into the air to assist. The others looked on in wonder, but quickly closed their eyes to focus on the growing magic that was gathering in their favor.

Aeli held her hands in the air, gathering the magic in her fingers, and letting it flow through her body. The Defilers, having taken their places in front of each participant, linked their tentacles together, causing the magic in the air to swirl tighter and tighter until it became concentrated around Aeli. She spread her fingers wider, gasping at the great power that was gathering.

Then, she lowered her hands over the vat, releasing the power into the mixture. Tendrils of liquid energy arced into it, disturbing its mass and shaping it like the skilled hands of a master sculptor. Aeli, breathless, stood and took her place at the point next to Farouk. She saw that Jodocus and the moorcat had awakened and were standing in the archway. She thought back at her conversation with Traegus and the effect that the spell might have on her beloved child.

Still, she said nothing. If it was the will of the creator, then Jodocus would take whatever form was required of him.

The mass of clay began to rise in the vat as the swirling magic sculpted it. Faeraon’s blood, mixed with Allora’s bones, provided the template. It began as a cone that jutted upward and twisted into the vague shape of a human body. The shoulders and hips began to form, becoming thicker as the clay was gathered there. Soon, a pair of arms separated from the main mass, twisting into their proper shape and becoming rigid as the bone formed inside them. Fingers sprouted and began to curl and grasp at the empty air. The head rose from the top of the formation, looking forward as its features were formed.

Aeli nodded to Traegus. “Now,” she said.

Traegus raised his staff into the air and began his summoning spell. Farouk took note of the incantation, as it was similar to the equation the Keeper had taught him to travel between worlds. But Traegus’ spell would not open portal to a parallel realm.

It would open into nothingness.

Traegus began to wave his staff in the air, drawing a great circle high above near the vaulted ceiling. A faint glow began to appear, swirling around the chamber in a large circle. Slowly, other circles began to appear within until the entire mass of energy was one great vortex.

Aeli turned to Maedoc. “Now,” she said.

Maedoc raised his own staff into the air, drawing the power of the Dragon. Red plasma arced around the staff’s tip, gathering power for a blast of energy that would disrupt the swirling blue above. Maedoc released the plasma, thrusting his staff upward toward the center of the blue mass. A blinding streak of red shot upward, exploding into the swirling magic. In the center, a tear appeared, growing wider as Maedoc chanted.

But it wasn’t enough.

The tear was fluctuating rapidly. It would not seem to open, no matter how hard Maedoc tried. It would reach a certain width, and then snap shut again. Maedoc’s power was not enough.

“Farouk,” she said. “Help him.”

“I am already trying,” he said. “The spell is not strong enough. There is something missing.”

“The equations are correct,” Traegus said, effortlessly swirling his blue energy. “Maedoc should be able to open by himself, much less with Farouk’s help.”

“Allora was able to open it from her side,” Aeli. “Albeit briefly.”

“We need a sixth,” Traegus said, looking at Aeli.

She swallowed in apprehension. She knew what he was saying. She was about the respond when Traegus’ eyes were suddenly torn away toward the area behind her. She turned, seeing Jodocus timidly walking into the room. He stared curiously at the growing mass of blue energy in the air, and the strange red light that came from Maedoc’s staff. He smiled as he looked around at the Defilers, giggling as they waved their long fingers in the air.

The boy walked into the circle, then saw the empty point. He ran to it, standing in the empty spot. Aeli began to tear as she watched his face darken. His childlike expression faded, replaced by a mask of mature determination.

“The circle is complete,” Maedoc said.

Suddenly, Jodocus thrust his hands into the air, casting another stream of snaking plasma that instantly wrapped itself around Maedoc’s own magic. The tear was pushed open again and the link was complete. The gate opened to full size, becoming a great, black void that filled the entire vault. From within, dim fingers of magic began to emerge. They flailed around, as if seeking something to hold on to.

“Come out,” Jodocus said. “Come out and be happy again.”

Aeli began to cry as she watched Jodocus. Her pride in him grew every second as she saw his power grow. Without him, the link would not have been possible. Now, he was drawing Allora’s spirit out on his own.

The fingers descended lower, wrapping themselves around the clay simulacrum that stood in the vat. They penetrated the surface, reshaping it to its will. Above, a glow began to appear, increasing in brightness as a mass of pure spirit came through the portal.

Allora had come.

The clay form reached upward, becoming more lifelike as the spirit approached. Jodocus grasped with his hands, as if pulling the spirit out of the portal. The mass continued to lower, reaching out to its new vessel. Faeraon’s eyes were filled with tears as he watched. He closed his eyes as a tendril of spirit reached out to caress his face.

“Allora…” he whispered.

Then, the spirit quickly swirled around the clay form, growing dimmer as it was absorbed. The caressing hand grew smaller as it faded into the form, and Faeraon held out his own hand. His face was filled with joy, having made contact with his beloved daughter after so long.

As the spirit’s light began to fade, the clay form began to move. It slowly knelt as its surface became the color of skin. Hair sprouted from its scalp, reddish brown and luxurious like copper. Aeli returned to her spell, calling upon the Great Mother to allow Allora’s spirit to link with the simulacrum.

“Go to her,” she said to Faeraon.

Faeraon obliged, moving to his daughter’s side and embracing her form as it continued to come to life. He held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes as they slowly opened.

“Come back to me,” he said.

Allora’s arms slowly rose, gripping Faeraon’s shoulders. “Father,” she said softly; weakly.

Aeli ceased her spell, knowing that her wish had been granted. Allora was now alive again, albeit weak, but she would soon return to full strength. The Defilers would help.

The six strange beings gathered closer to the center, rising to their full height and reaching down to caress her hair. One of them, the Defiler that had once been black in color, knelt down to assist Faeraon in steadying her. She gazed up at it, smiling in recognition.

“My friend,” she said. “You have been freed.”

“Allora,” Faeraon said. She turned to look up at him. “It has been so long.”

“You never abandoned me,” Allora replied. “No matter how much I harmed you.”

“Never,” he said. “A father never abandons his child.”

Faeraon embraced her tightly as the others watched. Father and daughter had been reunited, and the task was complete.

With the help of Jodocus, they had succeeded.

“Farouk,” Aeli said. “There are others.”

He nodded. “I know how to bring them back,” he said. “And it is the same thing I must do when we finally face The Lifegiver. I know that now.”

Farouk raised his staff, pointing it at the portal. “Hold it open, Jodocus,” he said. “There are more.”

“We have no other vessels,” Maedoc said. “They would fade away if they came through.”

“Faeraon,” Farouk said, turning to the Alvar king. “You said they simply faded into Limbo, correct?”

Faeraon nodded, holding Allora close to his chest.

“Then they did not become separated from their bodies,” Farouk explained. “They are still intact. They only need to be changed back into matter.”

“It cannot be done here,” Faeraon said. “There would not be enough room. There are thousands of them.”

“Jodocus,” Farouk said. “Cast the portal outside, near the tower.”

The Corruptor and his dark army of demonic warriors gathered just east of Southwatch. The horde stood in a semicircle, with the Corruptor in the center. He glared at the tower, feeling the immense power that had been growing for the past hour. Something was happening there, he knew, and it was something that would greatly endanger The Lifegiver.

Something new had been born.

“There lies our glory!” Malthor shouted. The demons cackled in anticipation, hissing their glee at the prospect of spilling the blood of mortals.

“Our enemies gather to blaspheme against my master. They will not succeed. Destroy them all and feed upon their flesh.”

The demons howled, clanking their weapons together.

“March!” he shouted.

They growled, stomping their feet and beginning their ascent up the slope to the tower’s grounds. Malthor smiled.

He would finally have his vengeance.

Farouk stood with Faeraon outside the tower. The others had gathered on the roof to observe and assist Jodocus as he directed the portal to the ground below. It slowly descended, still facing downward, and fluttered around its edges as the wind pelted its energy.

“That’s it,” Farouk whispered. “Just a little closer.”

The portal continued to descend until it hovered just above the ground. Farouk raised his staff, directing it to turn sideways and steady itself.

“Call to your people, Faeraon,” he said. “In your mind. Tell them to come to their king.”

Faeraon moved to the front of the portal, gazing into its murky black depths. He stood proudly, holding his sword in a regal stance as he focused.

“Come to me,” he whispered. “Come to me, my people.”

“Farouk!” Aeli shouted form above. The Grand Druid looked up, seeing her point to the east.

He turned, shocked at what he saw.

In the valley below, a massive army of dark things was approaching. And at their head, a familiar face.

“It’s the Corruptor,” Faeraon said, still facing the portal. “I can feel his presence.”

“Keep focusing,” Farouk said.

Traegus appeared next to Farouk, glaring downward at the approaching army. “Cambions,” he said. “Sons of demons, like Tyrus himself.”

“Farouk!” Faeraon called. “They are coming! I can see them.”

“Keep the demons at bay,” Farouk told Traegus, returning to Faeraon’s side. Behind him, he heard Traegus chanting a spell.

The portal shimmered as shadowy beings stepped through. Farouk gazed into its depths, seeing thousands of them gathered within. The Alvar had heard their king. Farouk focused on the spell he had deciphered, gathering his energy to form a field that would spread across the portal. The equations flashed into his mind, arranging themselves in the proper sequence that would unlock the field.

Then, it burst outward from Farouk’s staff.

The Alvar charged out of the portal in material form, their bodies having been transformed back into matter. They were as Faeraon was; tall and regal in appearance, almost divine. They were armored in gleaming steal, and bore weapons that were nearly as beautiful as they were themselves. Faeraon raised his sword, turning around to face the dark army below.