A Darkness at Sethanon (53 page)

“I do not
know. There is something” - he paused, as if hearing a call to
some other place - “something wrong in the ordering of these
events. I think we risk not only ourselves, but the very fabric of
the universe.”

Draken-Korin
shrugged and began returning to his dragon. “What matter? If we
fail, then we are dead. What matter if the universe ceases with us?”
Draken-Korin returned to his dragon. Mounting, he said, “You
ponder issues that are meaningless.”

Draken-Korin
flew off and Ashen-Shugar was left to face these odd, new feelings
within himself.

Time passed, and
the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches watched the final work upon
Draken-Korin’s city. When it was done, Ashen-Shugar came and
found his people once more in council. He walked along a broad
avenue, one lined with tall pillars, each adorned with a tiger’s
head carving. He was mildly amused by Draken-Korin’s vanity.

Walking down a
long ramp, he reached the chamber within the earth. He found the vast
hall filled with the Valheru. Alma-Lodaka, she who called herself
Emerald Lady of Serpents, said, “Have you come to join us,
Father-Husband?” She was flanked by two of her servants,
created in open imitation of Draken-Korin’s. They were snakes
given arms and legs, grown as large as the moredhel. Amber eyes
flickered with nictitating membranes as they fixed upon Ashen-Shugar.

“I have
come to witness folly.”

Draken-Korin
drew his black blade, but another, Alrin-Stolda, Monarch of the Black
Lake, cried, “Spill Valheru blood and the compact is void!”

The Lord of
Tigers resheathed his sword. “It is well you come late, or we
should have seen an end to your mockery.”

Ashen-Shugar
said, “I have no fear of you. I only wish to see what you have
fashioned. This is my world, and that which is mine is not to be
threatened.”

The others
regarded him with cold eyes and Alrin-Stolda said, “Do what you
will, but know our purpose cannot be balked. As mighty as you are,
Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches, you cannot oppose us all. Watch
as we do what we must.”

In concert,
under Draken-Korin’s direction, a great magic was forged. For
an instant Ashen-Shugar felt a gut-wrenching pain, which passed
almost instantly, leaving only a faint memory. A giant stone appeared
upon the floor of the hall, a flat-topped, circular green thing with
facets, glowing like an emerald lit with inner fire. Draken-Korin
came to stand over it, and placed his hand upon it. It pulsed with
energy as he said, “Behold the final tool. The Lifestone.”

Without comment,
Ashen-Shugar withdrew from the hall, marching back toward the waiting
Shuruga. A voice from behind caused him to turn and he saw
Alma-Lodaka hurrying after.

“Father-Husband.
Will you not join us?”

He felt a
strange urgency toward her, almost as when the heat came upon her,
but different. He did not understand the odd feeling.
It is
affection
, came the voice of the other. He ignored that voice and
said, “Daughter-Wife, our Brother-Son has begun that which
spells final destruction. He is mad.”

She looked at
him strangely. “I don’t know what you mean. I do not know
that word. We do what we must. I had wished to have you at my side,
for you stand as mighty as any of us, but do what you will. Oppose us
at your risk.” With no further words, she left him and returned
to the hall where the next great magic would be undertaken.

Ashen-Shugar
mounted his dragon and returned to the Eagles’ Reaches.

As Ashen-Shugar
entered the hall of his mountain domicile, the skies above
reverberated with the sound of distant thunder. And he knew the
Dragon Host flew between worlds.

For weeks the
skies were angry and without substance, as the stuff of creation
flowed from horizon to horizon. Madness was without limit-in the
universe, as the Valheru rose up to challenge the new gods. Time was
without meaning, and the very fabric of reality rippled and flowed,
and in the centre of his hall, Ashen-Shugar brooded.

Then he summoned
Shuruga and flew to that odd place on the plain, that city of
Draken-Korin’s making. And he waited.

Mad vortices of
energy crashed across the heavens. Ashen-Shugar could see the very
fabric of time and space rent and folding in upon itself. He knew it
was almost time. He sat quietly upon the back of Shuruga and waited.

A clarion
sounded, that alarm he had erected in concert with the world, which
told him the moment he had awaited was upon him. Urging Shuruga
upward, Ashen-Shugar searched for what he knew must appear before the
mad display in the skies. The dragon stiffened under him and he saw
his prey. The figure of Draken-Korin grew discernible as he slowed
his black dragon. An odd something appeared in Draken-Korin’s
eyes, something alien. The other voice said,
It is horror.

Shuruga sped
forward. The great dragon roared his challenge, answered by
Draken-Korin’s black. Then the two clashed in the sky.

Quickly it was
over, for Draken-Korin had surrendered too much of his essence to
create the madness which filled the skies.

Ashen-Shugar
landed lightly near the twisted body of his foeman and came to stand
over him. The fallen Valheru looked up at his attacker and whispered,
“Why?”

Pointing upward,
Ashen-Shugar said, “This obscenity should never have been
allowed. You bring an end to all we knew.”

Draken-Korin
looked heavenward, where his brethren battled the gods. “They
were so strong. We could never have dreamed.” His face revealed
his terror and hate as Ashen-Shugar raised his golden blade to end
it. “But I had the right!” he screamed.

Ashen-Shugar
severed Draken-Korin’s head from his shoulders, and suddenly
both body and head vanished in a hiss of smoke. Leaving not a trace,
the fallen Valheru’s essence returned skyward, to mix with that
mindless thing of anger which battled the gods. With bitterness
Ashen-Shugar said, “There is no right. There is only power.”
Alone of his kind, he could understand the mocking irony in his
words. He retired to his cavern to await the final outcome of the
Chaos Wars.

Time was without
meaning as time itself was a weapon in battle, but in some sense it
passed while the new gods warred with what had been the Dragon Host.
Then the gods moved in concert, those who had survived the
internecine warfare whereby each had established his place in the
hierarchy of things, and they focused their unified attention upon
the Valheru. They moved as a force of power beyond the maddest dream
of Draken-Korin, and as a body they cast the Valheru from the
universe. They cast them into another dimension of space and time and
moved to deny the Valheru a way back. In near-mindless rage the
Valheru sought to return home, to reach that thing left against this
day, that thing denied to them by one of their own. Ashen-Shugar had
prevented their victory, and now they were being blocked from their
homeworld. In their anger and anguish they turned their might upon
the lesser races of the new universe. From world to world they
rampaged, destroying anything and everything in their path. From
world after world they tore the essence of life, the secrets of
magics, and the powers of suns. Before them lay warm, verdant worlds
circling living suns; behind them lay frigid, lifeless orbs spinning
about burned out stars. In their frantic attempt to return to the
world of their nurturance, they delivered utter ruination to all they
touched. Lesser races banded together, attempting to oppose this
raging thing. At first they were swept away, then they slowed it,
then at last they found a way to escape. One lesser race, called
human, turned its full attention to escape, and ways were found to
flee. Mankind and other races discovered a haven. Gates were opened
to other worlds, and the races fled, scattering themselves through
time and space.

Great holes in
the fabric of the universe were opened. Dwarves and men, goblins and
trolls, all came through the cracks in reality, the rifts between one
universe and another. New races, new creatures, came to Midkemia, and
upon this world they sought a place.

Then the gods
moved to close off the world of Midkemia to the Dragon Lords for
eternity. They turned to the rifts they had allowed to form, and they
sealed them. Suddenly the last route between the stars was closed
off. A barrier was erected. The Dragon Host tried in vain to
penetrate this curtain, but to no avail. They were denied return to
Midkemia’s universe and they raged in frustration, vowing to
find means of entrance.

Then it was
over. The Chaos Wars, the Days of the Mad Gods’ Rage, the Time
of Star Death: by whatever name it would come to be called, the clash
between that which was and that which followed was finished. When it
was over, and the skies had again been cleansed of insanity,
Ashen-Shugar left his cavern. Returning to the plain before the city
of Draken-Korin, he observed the aftermath of the mightiest struggle
recorded. He landed Shuruga, then allowed the dragon to hunt. For a
long time he silently waited for something, he couldn’t be sure
what.

Hours passed,
then at last the other voice spoke
. What is this place?

“The
Desolation of the Chaos Wars. Draken-Korin’s monument, the
lifeless tundra that was once great grasslands. Few living things
abide here. Most creatures flee to the south and more hospitable
climes.”

Who are you?

Ashen-Shugar
felt amusement. Laughing, he said, “I am what you are becoming.
We are as one. So you have said many times.” His laughter
ceased. He was the first of his race to laugh. There was a sadness
underlying the humour, for to understand humour marked Ashen-Shugar
as something beyond any Valheru, and he knew he was witness to the
beginning of a new era.

I had
forgotten.

Ashen-Shugar,
last of the Valheru, called Shuruga back from his hunt. Mounting his
steed, he glanced at the spot where Draken-Korin had been defeated,
marked only by ash. Shuruga took to the skies, high above the
aftermath of destruction.

It is worthy
of sorrow.

“I think
not,” said the Valheru. “There is a lesson, though I
cannot bring myself to know it. Yet I sense you do.”
Ashen-Shugar closed his eyes a moment as his head throbbed. The other
voice had again vanished from his mind. Ignoring the wonder of this
odd personality who had come to influence him over the years, he
turned his attention to his last task. Over mountains the Valheru
rode, seeking those things enslaved by his kind. Within the forests
of the southern continent, Ashen-Shugar raced over the stronghold of
the tiger-men. In a voice loud enough to be heard, he cried, “Let
it be known that from this day you are a free people.”

The leader of
the tiger-men called back, “What of our master?”

“He is
gone. Your destiny is in your own hands. By my word I, Ashen-Shugar,
say this is so.”

Then to the
south, to where the serpent race created by Alma-Lodaka resided, he
went. And there his words were greeted with hisses of terror and
anger. “How may we survive without our mistress, she who is our
goddess-mother?”

“That is
for you to decide. You are a free people.” The serpents were
not pleased and set about to discover means how their mistress could
again be recalled. As a race they made a vow, that until the end of
time they would work to bring back her who was their mother and their
goddess, Alma-Lodaka. From that day forward, the priesthood became
the ultimate power within the society of the Pantathian serpent
people.

Around the world
he flew, and everywhere he passed, the words were spoken: “Your
destiny is your own. All are a free people.” At last he reached
the strange place fashioned by Draken-Korin and the others. There
gathered were the elves. Landing upon the plain, the Valheru said,
“Let the word go forth. From this moment you are free.”

The elves looked
among themselves, and one said, “What does this mean?”

“You are
free to do as you wish. No one will care for you or direct your
lives.” The spokesman bowed and said, “But, master, those
who are wisest among us have gone with your brethren, and with them
goes the lore, the knowledge, and the power. We are weak without the
eldar. How, then, will we survive?”

“Your
destiny is now your own to forge as best you may. Should you be weak
you will perish. Should you be strong, you will survive. And mark you
well, there are new forces let loose upon the land. Creatures of
alien nature are come here, and with them shall you strive or make
peace, as you will, for they also seek their destiny. But there will
be a new order, and in it must you find a place. It may be you shall
need raise yourself above others and exercise dominion, or it may be
they will destroy you. Or perhaps peace is possible between you. That
is for you to decide. I am done with you all, save this one last
command. This place is forbidden, upon pain of my wrath. Let none
enter it again.” With a wave of his hand he fashioned mighty
magic and the small city of the Valheru slowly sank under the ground.
“Let the dusts of time bury it and let none remember it. This
is my will.”

The elves bowed
and said, “As it is willed, master, so you will be obeyed.”
The eldest of the elves turned to his brethren and said, “None
may enter this place: let none approach. It is vanished from mortal
eye; it is not remembered.”

Ashen-Shugar
said, “Now you are a free people.”

The elves, those
who had lived most removed from their masters, said, “We shall
go, then, to a place where we may live at peace.” They moved to
the west, seeking a place where they could live in harmony.

Others said, “We
shall be wary of these new beings, for we are those who have the
right to inherit the mantles of power.”