The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (9 page)

“Roll that bit of stone out into the thickets would you my boy?” asked Ader.

Kael looked questioningly at the old man. Ader shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

“No special words. No Seraph fire. No flash of lightning,” laughed the old man. “Plain and simple architecture.”

He winked.

“A bit of work with levers.”

Kael obeyed the request and used his foot to push aside the rock. Ader turned and lay his hands on the castle side of the “V” shaped by the two walls. The old man put his weight against the tower wall and a two yard, square section crept inward. Simultaneously, a corresponding section of the tower wall crept outward.

“A bit of an anticlimax for asecret passage,” smiled Ader. “But I was never comfortable with anything more flashy. You never can be sure who or what is lurking about.”

Ader stepped around the boy and reached within the opening to the tower. A moment later he produced a torch, some dry straw and flint.

“Still here,” smiled a pleased Ader. “Been sitting inside this door since ... well a couple of weeks after you were born I suppose.”

Kael’s eyes widened.

“Oh, didn’t I mention it,” chuckled Ader. “You made use of this passage once before. Came in quite handy that day I might add.”

“You are enjoying this,” frowned Kael.

“Delighting in it my boy. Delighting in it!”

Ader struck the flint to the now prepared torch. It ignited after a few tries. The old man ushered Kael inside the tower then followed, making certain to pull the entryway closed behind him.

“It’s a long way up, Kael,” said Ader. “Pace yourself. We don’t need to be winded when we arrive.”

Kael nodded in reply and slowly climbed the stairs. Their footfalls echoed lightly off the walls of the tower, but sounded soft enough and caused the boy little concern. The stairs appeared dry and covered in a thin coating of dust. Ader’s torch danced across large bricks fitted tightly together.

“As I told you, the people of Astel mastered any task they undertook,” whispered Ader. “The masons of this tower were the finest of their time. They worked under a wool tarp to keep the mortar dry in rain and the harsh rays of the sun from their backs in shine. No one outside this small group ever knew the tower’s secret and these fine men took it with them to their graves.”

“Where does the stairway let us out exactly?”

“The alcove where Izgra is so found of throwing his messengers to their deaths. I cannot hazard a guess as to what or who may occupy the space now, but in the days of the Astelan kings, it sat devoid of all furnishings. Astelans considered the throne room a place of business , not a lounge. Nobles gathered there to seek the consul of their brothers and sister, or settle disputes. It became a place of work and work is best accomplished when standing.”

“It sounds as if you played a hand in the policy,” stated Kael.

“Well, I couldn’t allow some lazy noble the luxury of placing a bench over my entry could I?” laughed Ader.

The pair climbed for what seemed like an eternity to Kael. Suddenly, he halted at a small trap door above his head.

“It matches the octagon tiles situated on the alcove floor,” said Ader. “It opens toward the center of the throne room.”

Kael nodded his understanding and slowly lifted the door. A shrill creak shred the stillness of the night. Kael peered over the edge of the opening. The room lay in darkness save for the tiny amount of light spilling past the boy from Ader’s torch.

Indeed, he hovered below the alcove. On either side of him gaped arching windows that looked out over the Kingdom of Astel. Across the room from the alcove rose a large dais. A stone seat, the Amethyst throne, capped the dais. In the darkness the throne was difficult to discern, but it certainly looked irregular or damaged in some way.

Beyond the throne stood a wall of darkness. Kael fought hard to determine its origin, then realized a black curtain hung across the room and lightly fluttered in a breeze wafting through the windows. The boy lightly rested the open door on the floor of the alcove and climbed out into the room. Ader kept the torch low and followed. 

“There sits your throne, Kael Brelgson. Yours for the taking,” smiled Ader. “Is that why we are here?”

Kael stared at the seat, hewn from a massive chunk of blue rock. This place felt so foreign to him. This was certainly not why he traveled here. The boy stepped forward and climbed the dais. He laid a hand on the cold surface of the throne. No matter what the outcome of his life, he knew at that moment the throne was not for him.

Ader followed him onto the dais. A twinkle remained in the old man’s eyes.

“Not what you searched for , eh Kael?”

The boy shook his head in dissent.

Ader turned and surveyed the great black curtain hung across the back of the room. Kael moved past the Seraph and drew aside the drape. They entered an area nearly as large as the one they left. It stood empty save for a stone slab near the opposite wall. The torch glimmered on the dark slab’s slick surface. Ader ignored the it and waved his hand about the room.

“More of the original royal chamber,” he shrugged. “Somewhat nondescript.”

Kael moved forward and inspected the only object in the room. It stood tall, nearly three yards high and one wide. Its edges appeared rough, as if quarried from the earth with large chisels. The slab stood on a foundation of granite, grooved to hold its base.

“What did you expect to find here?” asked Ader as he turned and swept the torchlight about the enclosure.

“Answers,” came a deep, soulless reply from behind the Seraph.

Ader spun toward the boy. Kael jumped back from the black obelisk and stared at it in dismay. The surface of the stone shifted and swirled. The sheen on the slick surface clouded over. Features formed and pressed forth from its facade. A wicked smirk beneath hate-filled eyes stared at Ader.

“The boy wants answers, fool.”

The voice dripped with contempt as it continued.

“That is all he ever wanted. Yet you, the Voice of Avra, see fit to keep him in darkness. A position to which I grow accustomed.”

Kael edged further away from the obelisk as the figure pressed outward.

“The boy grew past the desire for answers some time ago, Amird,” responded Ader. “He now leads and I follow. Your manipulations will not work here.”

The face slowly turned toward Kael. Its eyes narrowed as it assessed the boy. Ader inched forward.

“You will not wrest control of this world from He who created it,” stated Ader.

Amird’s concentration broke and a wry smile fell across his face.

“Do you think I care about this boy?” snapped Amird. “ThisnewSeraph? Do you think he can block my return? It is ordained that Chaos should clash with Light. It is written by the Scribes. It is inevitable. I care not for this boy and what scant power he brings to the fight.”

Amird’s voice grew and he strained at the confines of the obelisk.

“You are but foot soldiers in this war, Ader. Your comings and goings add up to nothing. The movement of armies and nations concern those of true power. I manipulate all whether they know it or not, and my opponent lies on the other side, manipulating as much as I.”

“You are wrong,  Amird,” snapped the Seraph. “Avra manipulates no one. He informs then stands aside and allows choice.”

“I made my choice, Seraph,” snarled Amird. “When He returns I will be waiting for Him with such an army, He cannot rest power from me ...”

Amird continued his rant, but Kael stopped listening. A different voice entered his head.  Calm, reassuring ... familiar. The same voice that came to him on the crest of the Mnim.

“You prepared My way. You traveled through My realm. You rallied those of faith to My call. Those who sat blind opened their eyes. Those who sat dumb lifted their voices.

The call has been heard but there is still work to do. Others who let their faith sit long in darkness require the same motivation. The army of the Deceiver is built on greed and fear. I will build an army of the faithful, built on a love for this world and one another. You are My herald.  Announce My return. Rally My people.”

“Where will I search for those to fight in your name?” questioned Kael aloud.

The boy realized he stared at the obelisk as he spoke. Ader turned and faced Kael with questions in his eyes.

“It is too late to fight in anyone’s name, boy,” came the sharp reply from within the darkness. “The hunters are here.”

The curtains surrounding the obelisk crashed to the floor. A ring of Hackles, armed with cleavers , stood behind the pair. A giant Malveel, eyes aglow with the fire of Chaos, stood in their midst. Ader spun to face the beast.

“Sulgor,” hissed the Seraph.

The Malveel’s scaly lips parted in a sinister grin. Black, onyx blades filled its maw and acidy drool fell from its lips.

“Ader Heartstrong,” acknowledged the beast. “You disturb my master.”

Red fire shot across the gap between Ader and the king of the Malveel. A green wall flashed into existence before Kael and the Seraph. It stretched from one edge of the chamber to the other. The red flame slammed into the green light and splashed about the room igniting the black curtain and pouring back toward the Hackles.

Kael drew his blade from its sheath as the Hackles moved on his position. The green wall blocked them, but Kael felt Ader’s weakness. If Sulgor continued his attack, the Seraph would not last long.

The Malveel king edged forward pouring more molten flame onto the green wall. A few of the Ulrog braved the heat and hacked at the light. Kael felt helpless, staring at the assault. He tried to grab hold of the power but it escaped him.

Sulgor reared onto his hind legs and crashed forward upon the green wall. Kael expected it to repel the monster, but the Malveel’s strength combined with the intensity of the flames of Chaos hammered the wall backward. Kael blinked from the flash of power, closed his eyes and turned away.

The Hackles rushed forward. Cleavers struck the wall, slashing large rents in its surface. Dozens of Ulrog poured into the room from behind the flaming curtain. Sulgor’s eyes glowed with white hot intensity.

“Today is the day, Seraph!” roared the beast.

Kael opened his eyes. He stared at the Needle of Ader. It too glowed, but with a brilliant blue light.

Movement on the floor behind Ader drew the boy’s attention. A blackness wriggled across the floor of the chamber toward Ader’s feet. Kael’s eyes followed its length to where it emerged from the obelisk. Amird’s face grew within the surface of the stone and Kael could read the triumph in his eyes as the coil snaked around the Seraph’s ankle and yanked him to the floor.

“Ader!” cried Kael in alarm.

The Seraph tumbled forward but maintained the wall of power.  The black coil ignited in a searing flame that enveloped the old man’s leg. The wall weakened. Hackles moved opposite the boy and struck the shimmering light. Kael stood tall and the Needle of Ader lengthened as blue Seraph fire danced across its surface.

“You were always his lesser creation, Voice of Avra. He feared the power he saw in me and wished never to recreate it,” cackled Amird. “You stand as a poor facsimile, an abomination of the glory of Amird.  Now you are no more.”

The fire about the Seraph’s ankle erupted and Ader screamed in pain.

“I never possessed your power,” heaved Ader in protest. “But my heart has always been far superior to the leaden casket that resides in your chest. He gave you life and love and you repaid him with treachery!”

A cleaver slashed through a tattered opening in the green wall and nearly caught Kael’s shoulder. The boy slashed with his glowing blue sword and the cleaver split in two. Sulgor raked the surface of the wall with his massive fore claws. The Malveel’s fire splashed through every opening driving Kael further from Ader.

“Your death rips this world even further from perfection. My return is that much closer. Where are those thousands who paid their respects to the Voice of Avra?” snarled Amird with contempt.  “ All those years of work wasted. Who is here to praise you now?”
      “I pity you, Amird,”  coughed Ader from the floor. “I need no praise. I gave because so much was given to me. You will never bask in the glory of the Maker. You are a deadness and nothingness surrounds you.”

The black coil flared and seethed with flame. The Seraph cried out in pain. Kael turned to the obelisk. The face confined within the darkness contorted in hateful glee. Kael felt rage build within him. His hand tightened around the Needle of Ader. The blue flame intensified to a brilliant near white. It sparked and leapt on the surface of the blade like lightning.

The green wall shimmered. The Hackles roared in delight. Sulgor’s jaws widened in anticipation. The Malveel king stood over the prone form of Ader waiting for the last glimmer of the wall to dissipate. Ader rolled to his side and looked to Kael. The old man’s eyes were sunken with fatigue. His breath shallow. Kael’s vision shot from Ader to the obelisk then back to the Seraph.

“Do it, Kael,” wheezed the Seraph. “Do it NOW!”

His head dropped and the wall of light vanished. The Hackles rushed in. Sulgor pounced. Amird cackled with insane delight.

Kael lunged forward. The whites of his knuckles wrapped about the Needle of Ader. He aimed the tip of the white hot blade directly at the hate filled face. At the last moment the eyes in the face widened in surprise. Kael threw all his weight into the blow. He plunged through the face of the black mirror.

Darkness encased the boy. Not the darkness of night. Not a place without light, but a placeofdarkness. Built of the essence of darkness. Constructed of it.

He neither stood nor lay within the darkness. He simply was. Kael would have said he floated in the darkness, but he did not feel weightless. He tried to move, but there was no place to go, no footing. Time left him.

Faint voices reached the boy’s ears. Familiar voices.

“Am I ..... finished?” asked Ader softly.

“Yes,” came the compassionate reply.

“Did I ...   was that all I could have done?”