Jepaul

by Katy Winter

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The Red Council left Baron/Kelt with a very small escort indeed, only a handful of their writhling-inserted Varen accompanying them. Nor did they question this after their time with Jepaul. They were not a coherent Council from one city-state. They were a disparate group made up of members of each city-state, so though they were all Nedru they formed their circles and unisons less fluidly. Jepaul was aware of this. And he’d taken advantage of it. While in Baron/Kelt they spoke only with the Varen who would travel with them and they ignored everyone else.

  Nor did the Red Council notice how quiet and exhausted their escort was. Their Varen were unusually wide-eyed and reeling after time with Maenades, their experiences daunting. They’d been made to feel insignificant in a novel and disturbing way. However, no one, least of all the Doms, was foolish enough to consider their trials with the Red Councils was over. Jepaul had allowed a breathing space, no more. It had all barely begun.

  The Red Council had only been gone from the city for several hours and was mercifully well out of sight, when a report came in that two very large formations, each stretching for miles, approached Baron/Kelt from divergent angles. It was said the two would become one host within only a day and about ten miles from the city.

  By early morning next day, at the break of dawn, activity in the city was everywhere. A restless surge of people thronged thoroughfares and squares. Preparations and prior arrangements showed that seeming aimless rushing to and fro was deceptive and not as it would appear to a casual observer. Varen, in particular, were always in command readiness. It was inherent in their function.

  Maenades startled all but those familiar with them by appearing fully armed with primed mimoses should the need arise. The women in formidable battle array awed even the Varen who stared silently at them. The Varen increasingly treated the Maenades and mimoses with considerable respect and circumspection. The Grohol warriors, also unfamiliar to most, were likewise battle-ready, stolid, fully armed and with an implacability that also commanded Varen respect. No one would be wise to under-estimate them either.

  It was now suspected by all in Baron/Kelt that the Companions had abilities that lifted them out of the ordinary. They were clearly bonded with the fascinating but powerful men called Doms who awaited events in a quite relaxed manner. The Doms sat in a leisurely way, apparently untroubled by the activity all about them. Jepaul lounged back with Quon, the pair accompanied by Lisle and Cadran. Talk was general, men sometimes breaking into laughter. It was Knellen who suddenly lifted his head, the strange beady eyes intent. He tilted his head Varen-fashion.

  “Doms,” he began, then his pointed teeth gleamed. “Doms, we have visitors. A lot of them.”

  “Have we?” responded Quon, unsurprised. “Who?”

  “There are two large armies converging now, Quon, and they’re from -.” Knellen paused, then his voice had an inflection of surprise. “They’re from Clariane and Strame/Helt.”

  “Mmm,” murmured Quon with a nod.

  “Demons! They’re actually headed by Cynas Barok and Cynas Adon. I’m assuming it is Barok. Now what does this portend?”

  “Red Councils with them?”

  “No,” said Jepaul definitely. “I can guarantee that.”

  “A massed attack, Knellen?’ queried Ebon conversationally. “That should give us all a good shakedown and show how prepared we are.”

  Knellen was silent, abstracted and preoccupied as the others watched him rather intrigued but untroubled. Then he turned to Jepaul.

  “Jewellery, Jepaul?”

  Jepaul shook his head.

  “No, nothing. No threat at all. Interesting.”

  Knellen looked across at Cadran who also shook his head. Knellen frowned slightly.

  “Interesting, Doms, as Jepaul has observed. I have no sense of threat at all, nor any premonition.”

  “So why, then, have we two significant armies converging close to Baron/Kelt?” mused Sapphire, settling himself back comfortably.

  “Good question, Dom.” Knellen glanced down at Saracen. “Have you felt them?’

  “Yes, but I only realised they come here at the same time you did because they veered to bring them within range of the city. We thought they were passing by.”

  Knellen turned to Lisle who promptly stepped forward.

  “Commander?”

  “Saddle horses, would you, mine included?”

  As Lisle left, Knellen turned to the Doms.

  “I’ll ride out with a troop, Doms. Keep the gates shut behind us, just in case.” He paused. “There’s something odd about this.”

  “I’ll come with you,” offered Jepaul, yawning widely.

  “So will I,” added Ebon getting to his feet.

  The other Doms just nodded.

 

  As the combined forces approached Baron/Kelt later the same day they found a vanguard of Varen in full battle formation awaited them. Immediately the nearing forces drew to a lumbering, slow halt. It took some time as it was a very large army indeed. It was when movement finally stilled and there was an expectant hush in the air that Jepaul, flanked by Knellen and Ebon, rode forward to stop at a safe distance from the army whose plumes and standards waved in the stiff breeze. It was Adon, alone, who rode out to meet them.

  “Cynas,” came Knellen’s crisp bass.

  “Varen,” responded Adon, his horse halting directly in front of the threesome.

  “How can we serve you, Cynas of Clariane?”

  “I received news from Cynas Barok that the travellers to whom I entrusted my son were close to Baron/Kelt, so I…” Adon reflected for long moments, his eyes lifting and squarely meeting Knellen’s large, strange ones. “It seemed my only opportunity to leave Clariane.”

  “Why would you wish to?”

  “My city is in a sad, pitiful state, Varen. I’ve fought long and hard over recent syns to obstruct the Red Council in any way I could. I also fought to prevent writhlings being inserted in my Varen or army, but I now find it beyond my ability to curb increasing demands for ever harsher laws and increased subjugation, if that’s possible. We no longer have emtori. The city has slaves.”

  “I see.” Knellen heard the exhaustion in the Cynas’s voice.

  “In my train I have my personal military and the rest of the army, city Varen of all levels, and as many citizens and emtori as I could find to bring to safety.”

  “The Red Council?”

  “They happily await my return with my son Ardon, Varen. My coming is to take him to them – my capitulation if you will.”

  “And is this so?” asked Jepaul.

  Adon eyed him. He sighed, deeply.

  “I don’t know who you are, young man, but I sense you have power and you’re the one who took my son for safe-keeping.”

  “That’s so.”

  “Ardon will never go back to Clariane.”

  “Never?”

  Adon’s smile was rather forced.

  “Not until it’s possible for me to dismantle a structure that rules through cruelty and oppression. Ardon will never preside over such a state.”

  “You allowed it for very many syns, Cynas – don’t forget that.”

  Before Adon could speak, Ebon did, slowly and deliberately.

  “I don’t remember you personally, Adon, but we know you trained in the Order and were taught wise governance as were your ancestors. You abused all those teachings.”

  Adon bent his head in acknowledgment.

  “I know. Is it ever too late to attempt to atone and make amends?”

  “That depends on the man and his actions, Cynas.”

  “How do you know I trained in the Order?”

  “I am Maquat Dom Fire, Adon Cynas of Clariane. Look and know me.”

  Adon lifted his head. He went bone white and his lips parted stickily as he tried to speak and failed utterly. He began to visibly shake, tremors catching him in waves. He managed to raise a trembling hand.

  “And I, Cynas Adon of Cla
riane, answer to Maquat Dom Quintessence,” said Jepaul calmly.

  Lisle, now close beside Knellen with some of his Varen in answer to a signal, gave an audible gasp. He caught his commander’s warning eye and simply breathed very deeply. Lisle was stunned by such disclosures. He, too, was speechless. That Maquat Doms actually existed, when thought long gone from Shalah and only half believed ever existed, utterly confounded him. He thought of Dancer, Quon and Sapphire. He knew they were different: he’d seen that with Silklip. But now he could only gulp at the thought that he was truly in the presence of such overwhelming authority and unparalleled ancient power. He took in air and literally shook in the saddle. He noticed, in a detached way, that Knellen showed no surprise. He helplessly realised that the Commander had known for very many syns who it was he travelled with. Lisle’s brain reeled.

  “Maquat Doms,” managed Adon in a whisper, his voice shaking.

  “Your son is safe. We have ensured he is.”

  Adon looked tentatively at Jepaul.

  “I thank you – all of you.” Adon bowed his head to Knellen as well as to the Doms.

  “State your request, Cynas,” came Ebon’s cool, measured voice.

  “I bring all I have to be in your service and ask that we may remain with you. I ask for sanctuary for all those who trusted me to bring them to safety.”

  Adon, still white to the lips and profoundly fearful, looked from Ebon to Jepaul and then to Knellen.

  “Your aid is welcome, Cynas,” said Jepaul, after a long pause while Adon tried to swallow. “It’s also timely. Conflict comes.”

  “I know, Maquat Dom,” came in a low voice from Adon. “I have felt it for some time. We have supplies and heavy weaponry as well as men willing and able to fight.”

  “The Varen?’ questioned Knellen. “Writhlings?”

  “None, I assure you. I had to fight it but none were inserted.”

  “No Varen may enter the city, Cynas, until all are released from their oaths to the Red Council.”

  “I understand.” Adon hesitated. “And that, of course, means their oath to me through the Red Council?”

  “Yes, Cynas.”

  Adon fidgeted with his reins, then again looked directly at Knellen.

  “What must they do?”

  “They take a particular oath to me, Cynas, and, indirectly to the Doms but especially to Jepaul.” Knellen indicated Jepaul.

  Adon slowly nodded. Colour came back to pallid cheeks and his trembling eased as did his undeniable anxiety and stress.

  “To show my intentions are honourable I’ll ask my Varen to do this but I must also speak to Barok.” He glanced across at the Doms. “I’ll also say any oath you may ask of me, Maquat Doms.”

  “We simply wish you to honour the ones you made in the Order, Cynas,” answered Ebon. “If you truly wish to make amends then that is sufficient. It is your actions that will speak for you. And Cynas Barok?”

  “He must speak for himself, Maquat,” came the subdued reply. “I believe his wife also sought sanctuary with you.”

  “Then, Cynas, would you discuss matters with Cynas Barok and arrange for all Varen to be marshalled?” requested Knellen courteously. “This will take considerable time.”

 

  Barok and Adon, both men more than subdued and highly apprehensive, were finally ensconced in quarters inside the city. Most of their combined force, considerable in number, had to continue residing in camps scattered round and beyond the city walls because there were so many of them. It would take both time and ingenuity to accommodate such a host. Adon met his son again and Barok his young wife. Adon barely recognised Ardon who was no longer a youth but a young man who showed the faintest trace of a beard. At their first meeting Adon clasped his son, his eyes watering uncomfortably. And Barok could scarcely contain his joy at seeing Dariah. His old hands were held out in welcome. His eyes were moist, but what made him actually weep unrestrainedly with gratitude and delight was to see that, as Dariah approached, she held out an infant to him.

  “Mine?” he whispered, a tear trickling down his cheek.

  “Yours, Barok.”

  “A daughter, like yourself?”

  Dariah shook her head tearfully.

  “A son for you, Barok.”

  Barok took the tiny bundle in his arms and cradled it, before he held the infant crooked in one arm and tenderly put his other arm round Dariah, his head bent to hers. After a few moments of intense emotion, Barok raised his head.

  “His name, my child-wife?”

  “He has no given name yet. I wanted you to name your son, Barok.”

  Barok stared thoughtfully at the infant then at Dariah.

  “I name him Shoel, Dariah. Do you know why?”

  “No.”

  “It means ‘salvation’, my love, as you’ve been his and mine.”

 

  Barok’s and Adon’s meeting with the Doms was fraught with unspeakable anxiety for both men. Each was miserably and guiltily conscious how far they’d fallen from even basic tenets of governance as taught by their time in the Order as were their forebears. They fully expected frightening retribution. They genuinely felt they deserved to suffer the loss of loved ones. They knew how lamentably short of strength of character and will they’d been in the way they’d abdicated responsibility which led to the abominable suffering of those they were sworn to protect.

  The Doms said little. That was unnerving. It made each Cynas, without reference to the other, determined that one day his son would return to his city-state as a ruler steeped in the training and beliefs of the Order. He would not be corrupted in the way of his fathers and ancestors. Both felt deep remorse and bitter shame though neither uttered a word to the other. The Doms reserved judgment.

  The Cynases’ armies, however, were powerful and extremely well equipped and trained, their weaponry such that Baron/Kelt would need little more than what already existed there. There were now huge numbers of Varen. To make them identifiable because they all resembled each other so closely, not only did they now wear coloured belts that represented a designated city-state. They had pierced ears and nostrils from which hung small rings of particular gemstones fashioned, very quickly indeed, by the Grohols. The colours of the rings matched the wide, heavy belts.

  They also now answered to contractions of their city-state names. So there were Barons from Baron/Kelt, Helts from Strame/Helt, Anes from Clariane, Tohs from Arrain-Toh, Tels from Castelus, Leths from Lethwyn, Rums from Rhume and Dals from Wrandal. Never, in their long history, had Varen possessed identities such as they had now. To most it felt odd, though it was accepted with various degrees of resignation as the Varen came to terms with a world unlike anything they had experienced.

  The Varen of Barok and Adon were immediately and fully integrated with all others in the city, again overseen by Lisle and Knellen. Knellen looked out at men drilling one day, disciplined and formidable, and was pensive. Of seven city-states two now supported Baron/Kelt. And Varen singly, or in small or larger groups, still anxiously approached the city requesting sanctuary. Knellen was aware the numbers escaping and fleeing would fall away slowly as Red Councils ensured the insertion of writhlings. He shivered.

  He knew Castelus and Arrian-Toh had made insertions mandatory because he had very large numbers of Varen who managed to escape their fates there. But he wasn’t sure of the other city-states, though the regular flows from those suggested only selected Varen had, as yet, been caught and subjected. The assorted very large troop who came with the Red Council to Baron/Kelt, and who had only immature writhlings inserted, soon recovered. Gratan found himself with them to assist with painful assimilation and recovery.

  All new Varen arrivals struggled with the need for identification and the unheard of concept of individuality. They struggled even more with the concept of a half-Varen such as Cadran. However, as days passed, all Varen seeing or meeting Knellen instinctively and instantly responded to him. This was noted by others in Baron/Kelt. His
uncanny knack of foresight engendered caution as well as respect and he also, unconsciously, restored pride to Varen who found an odd and unexpected sense of release with their new oaths. Quite quickly they no longer saw themselves merely as servants, servile and obedient to Cynases and Red Councils. Barok and Adon noticed it but said nothing. The Doms and Companions saw it, Jepaul saying ironically one day,

  “Doms, I do believe the Varen may evolve, over time, into something nearly resembling other peoples of Shalah.”

  He got laughs but no comments. Saracen just drew down the corners of his mouth but Belika smiled. She knew, where the others didn’t, how many Varen the warrior women chose for entertainment. Saneel told her how the Varen were changed by their unprecedented and shocked experiences because they were confronted and humbled by women who had attitudes to males the Varen had not expected. And it was the women who were dominant, not the Varen. Belika was also aware how much less use was made of the harems with candemaran leaving them stealthily every day. Hunts did not resume.

 

  The Red Councils’ synthesis caused them a measure of sudden and unexpected alarm, though upon consideration and after long deliberation, their concerns were assuaged and they were mollified. It was mostly centred round two Cynases who had, to all appearances, made a decision to leave their city-states, taking with them entire militaries, Varen of all ranks and citizens of all sorts from senior ranked to the lowest caste emtori. Those of caste who remained were quite unable to maintain the basic running of the cities affected, many so subjected and maltreated as to be of no material use to anyone. It meant the Red Councils had to request the transfer of workers from elsewhere. This infuriated them. These trains of workers made an escape as soon as they could, so not even a third of them reached either Clariane or Strame/Helt.

  The absences of Barok and Adon made the Red Councils of other city-states relentlessly tighten their grips and they did so with a cruelty unmatched in the history of Shalah. Few had any chance of escape. Persecution was rife. Those who did get free risked life and limb to do so. News reaching Baron/Kelt was grim indeed. It was heard about through the defection of many poor souls reaching the city in increasingly distressed condition. The Red Councils of Strame/Helt and Clariane didn’t refer to the absence of Barok and Adon again because they expectantly awaited their return.

  Of most profound concern to the Red Councils was that at least one of each of their number present in Baron/Kelt had reaffirmed an oath so ancient most Nedru had forgotten its existence. By doing this, those Councillors now affected the full cohesion of their own Council simply by being one of a group who pledged themselves to Jepaul where the other members had not. It made group colloquy less cohesive and a synthesis far more difficult to sustain. Nedru, disbelieving this could happen, raged. Jepaul knew this.

  The Doms knew his action, though intensely draining and causing him deep distress, was quite deliberate. It was originally Quon’s suggestion, though he urged Jepaul not to attempt it if he had even the trace of a doubt. What it did was create a seed of doubt among the Red Councils as well as affect their ability to form the vital cogent and regular synthesis. Jepaul knew it was a vulnerable part of their existence on Shalah. It was disabling, but that was all. Jepaul’s objective in the first instance was to destabilise. He also knew he’d aroused dangerous hatred; at the same time it created Red Council uncertainty because as yet he’d shown no sign of being a threat to them. He appeared, they considered, to support rather than hinder them.

  He’d not queried their right to Shalah nor their steps taken to ultimately annihilate the world in their own fashion. All he’d done, they decided, was reassert his right as being of the Progenitor’s line, something the Red Councils reluctantly acknowledged was his right. They’d always been the servants of the Progenitor and though loath to have this reinforced by one so young and after innumerable syns, they had to accept it with good grace as would Sh’Bane and his Riders. The Red Council suspected, though they couldn’t be entirely sure, that Sh’Bane was as much the Progenitor’s servant as they were.

  Jepaul’s disclosure of their world and their history merely confirmed for them that though they may, in time, mould him more appropriately, he did have unknown and possibly unpredictable power. At present mollifying him was paramount. He seemed to be acting alone other than for assorted Varen and an even odder assortment of so-called Companions the Red Council hadn’t yet come to grips with. So the Doms’ hope and intention of destabilising the Nedru through Jepaul and creating uncertainty was successful. Their next step would be harder.

  They pondered long, accompanied by many, but mostly in closer discussion with the Companions, Venes, Cadran and Gabrel. Their final decisions were known to only a select few. They believed above all that Shalah had to waken; those long asleep or comatose had to be stirred. That too had its inherent dangers. They knew the Huyuks were restless. The Grohols from across Shalah had confirmed this. Grohols came and went from Baron/Kelt regularly to all parts of Shalah. Grohols, led by their still resident Venes and supported by warrior Grohols, intimated they were ready for whatever came. To their minds conflict was a certainty. They always had, and always would, answer to Maquat Dom Earth. The other Doms also began to come and go, often for long periods. Quon was preoccupied. He and Jepaul knew what the other Doms were doing and what would be the result of their activities. No one else did. Jepaul too disappeared and was absent longer than the others. Cadran and the Companions were concerned but as Quon was untroubled and merely laughed they had to accept it.

  Knellen, with newly appointed commanders from people of all races and walks of life on Shalah, was kept endlessly busy delegating and empowering people to take up levels of authority. He even appointed emtori. Once a Varen city, Baron/Kelt had expanded enormously. It was now an integrated double city, newly fortified and with an army that became more cohesive and trained by the day. Discipline was inflexible. To distinguish Knellen from other Varen the title of Alif Grypan was bestowed on him, in reference to his eyes - because Alif meant ‘touched one’. It seemed to fit him especially as there were now a number of commanders. It was also now widely known that mythical beasts called Grypans had some connection with the Varen’s strange eyes, so disbelief gave way to conviction and vague rumours became accepted truth.

  It was Jepaul’s return that caused a stir in the city. No sooner had he entered Baron/Kelt than the skies darkened and he, with the Doms, returned to the gates, ordered them opened, then walked quite calmly out onto open ground. There, impassively, they waited. The dark cloud came closer. The faint thunder became a roar. Those in the city saw, fearfully, many huge winged creatures fly near in one formation after another and hover in the air, their heads with wicked-looking beaks swinging from side to side. Beady eyes glared down at the gathered Doms. One creature sank lower to the ground and settled.

  “He of the Progenitor’s line has grown, Doms,” came a booming voice full of pure menace. “He summons us. Why?”

  “He’s one of us, Lesul,” answered Quon. A drop of acid was spat directly at his feet. He stayed motionless.

  “He uses the Progenitor’s oath from long ago. It trapped us then. It will trap us again now.”

  “No!” disagreed Quon. “No, Lesul. We certainly never trapped you. We told you that but you wouldn’t listen. Now we ask that you do listen to us in the belief and trust that there’s no entrapment of any kind. The time comes, Lesul, whether any of us choose it or not, when, if you work with us this time you have the hope and very real chance of being released after aeons of imprisonment here on Shalah. You will go home. We promise we will do all we can to ensure it but we need your trust and faith in us.”

  “Allied to that young one who is of the Progenitor’s line, Maquat Earth? Do you take us for fools? He could be his ancestor reincarnated for all we know and we suffered for our allegiance to him.”

  “He’s much more than that,” reasoned Quon quietly.

  “It’s not possible for one
of his line to be anything other than the Progenitor himself,” came the embittered retort.

  “Oddly enough, Lesul, it is,” responded Quon, as another acid drop nearly scalded him and he gave the minutest flinch, “however unbelievable it may seem.”

  “Show us!” came the command.

  “Then stop dropping acid near me,” snapped Quon irritably.

  “I will, for a while,” came the amiable reply, “so long as you show us, now.”

  In answer Quon nodded at the other Doms who responded as one, their forms blending gracefully and effortlessly in a vivid merging of colours that intertwined then quickly faded. There was a genuinely startled response from Lesul and bellows from many throats.

  “The Five! How is this possible?”

  The Doms stood calmly, Quon now with them, his head upturned to Lesul.

  “Well?”

  “We defeated you, Maquat Earth. We saw you all collapse when Islasahn lost her staff and fell through the gate. We all witnessed it, even as we were deliberately left behind.”

  “True.”

  “Then how can there be five Elementals?

  Jepaul walked forward.

  “I’m the Fifth, Lesul.” He held up his staff for Lesul to peer at and closely scrutinise. “Do you recognise it?”

  “Islasahn’s! Islasahn’s!”

  “It’s mine. It answers to me. She touches and speaks to me through it.”

  “The Fifth Elemental?” Lesul’s head was now flat on the ground as she peered, astounded, at Jepaul. “But you commanded us as servants of the Progenitor’s line.”

  “I did, yes.”

  “Not as the Fifth?”

  “No.”

  “Do you, as a Dom, promise us what Earth does?”

  “Yes, we all do.”

  “Let me see you all closely so I know you’re the Maquat Doms.”

  Sapphire strolled forward.

  “I greet you again, Lesul. You know me. I’m Dom Water.”

  “Indeed!” growled Lesul, her wings flapping.

  “I also greet you, Lesul,” said Wind Dancer, coming next to Sapphire. “It’s been a very long time. I’m Dom Air.”

  “I remember you clearly,” came another growl. “We had some battles.”

  “We did,” concurred Dancer.

  “I, too, greet you,” said Ebon, stepping forward beside Jepaul and Quon. “You know I’m Dom Fire.”

  “Oh yes, I know only too well.” There was a long pause. “So here you all are again – wheels within wheels and circles within circles, all unbroken and never-ending.” Lesul bent her head again to Jepaul. “So, of the Progenitor’s line, you must be, oh irony of ironies, Dom Spirit.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Does Sh’Bane know?”

  “He may guess. He knows I was on the Island.”

  “Has he spoken to you?”

  “Not since I was young.”

  “We could tell him the Five is active again and thereby a threat.”

  “You could,” answered Jepaul. “Except,” he added, “for your renewed oath to me.”

  “And your promise to us of release,” reminded Lesul with a spit.

  “Yes.”

  “I warned you, Earth, that if you saw me again you’d regret it.”

  Quon sighed then scratched tiredly at his beard. It was very long.

  “Times change, Lesul. And remember it wasn’t me who brought you here.”

  “Dom Spirit calls us.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then know, when he calls again, we will come.”

  “It’s mutual need, Lesul. We may have fought each other most bitterly but we ask, again, that you believe we never betrayed you aeons ago. Nor did we exile you. Nor will we do so now. It’s not in us to behave that way.”

  “Maybe.” Lesul took another closer look at Jepaul and nudged him with her massive beak. “You helped destroy the Varen’s writhling. Did the Varen survive?”

  “Yes, he’s here in the city.”

  There was an eerie echoing laugh that made those in the city shiver and look up at the sky with dread.

  “Then since he’s now partly one of us, we’ll join him.” There was another laugh. “How the Progenitor would hate to think one of his line was a Dom and Quintessence at that!”

  Lesul rose on the words. The flying, hovering formations reversed at considerable speed, disappearing as specks as the Doms made their way back to the gates, their heads bent one to the other in animated conversation. Those at the gates and within the city parted for them, their expressions a mixture of awe and apprehension. No one had heard the conversation with Lesul. But to see creatures of myth, then figures of five men so dramatically alter, was more than enough to command caution and respect even more so than before.

 

  The Riders and Sh’Bane, gone some time from Shalah, made no haste to return to a world they believed to be on a predicted path to irreversible destruction. Those like themselves, released by the Progenitor, feasted on and ultimately eliminated worlds before they moved on. Sh’Bane considered the Nedru achieved the objective they were set aeons ago. It was a slow but irrevocable process and the end for Shalah would come as the inevitable consequence. The Nedru would ensure that. They’d done it countless times before.

  Sh’Bane was annoyed about Jepaul who was a random and quite unexpected factor. He was even more disconcertingly disbelieving about the reappearance of the crippled Elementals unable to unite in full strength as only the Four. They were ones thought so defeated, especially with the loss of Islasahn, they’d no longer be a force on Shalah. That one of them, Dom Earth, should have somehow found a descendant of the Progenitor amused Sh’Bane. Though he tried to take the boy and failed, and also knew the child had finally reached the Island, he was angered but untroubled.

  Despite a vague disquiet at the sudden re-emergence of the Island and by implication of Salaphon, still Sh’Bane was prepared to wait to consider his options concerning Jepaul. Others trained on the Island were open to manipulation and corruption, unlike the irritating Doms, so Sh’Bane considered Jepaul might well be quite amenable and malleable on his emergence from seclusion, simply by virtue of his genetics. He was, after all, of the Progenitor’s line and the Progenitor was a very cruel, manipulative and destructive individual. He was, Sh’Bane reflected with a twisted smile, the personification of evil, the ultimate anti-spirit who fully embraced the all-devouring anti-matter of the cosmos.

  When Jepaul had reappeared from the Island, Sh’Bane sensed power. He and his Riders monitored him and the Doms as they moved through Dawn-Saith then, sensing no immediate threat, they withdrew. They only rarely returned to check the gates that only inched open at odd, erratic times and only for moments. It was enough for summoned minions to squeeze themselves through or gather expectantly at the first four gates. The fifth gate remained closed, much to Sh’Bane’s annoyance.

  These creatures would hasten Shalah’s chaos and ultimate demise. But Sh’Bane cursed the Red Councils for their folly in not ensuring Harnath acquired the Ariel, it’s significance well-known to Sh’Bane. He ordered them to find it. He punished the Red Councils for that neglectful lapse and was satisfied that was enough to make them seek the book with alacrity and persistence, because without it the gates could barely open at all. Sh’Bane wasn’t unduly concerned. The Nedru would find the book. They were utterly ruthless in pursuing and achieving their aims.

  And lastly, Sh’Bane was amused and laughed when he came and went to Shalah to see that the last of the Fifth Elemental, who was once Spirit in the form of Islasahn, still remained dull. Not quite all her entity was lost. Most of her was absorbed in the final surge as the Anti-Spirit lords were pushed through the last gate. Her staff, too, was gone. She ceased to be a coherent being but the final flickers of her light energy weren’t dead. Sh’Bane often stared down at the barely faint light. It made him smile as he recalled her last tormented moments. She fell into the clutches of the Anti-Spirit lord, her an
nihilation inevitable as she slowly disappeared into enveloping darkness. And he gloated at the agony it inflicted on the other Elementals as they too faded but back onto Shalah, Sh’Bane well aware that without their component part they’d be broken and grieving for all time.

  Jepaul’s being taken by the remaining four Elementals to Salaphon and the Island was a puzzle, but Sh’Bane thought it might be an attempt to modify the young one’s heritage in some way, or at least an attempt to neutralise it. A laugh shook Sh’Bane at that thought – he could make much better use of Jepaul than that. And he was determined he would. What he didn’t see, over the last syns, was that the shred of the identity that was once Islasahn suddenly animated, a faint flicker and glow of light that flared then faded, more than once, at the entrance to the fifth gate.