The Master

by Louise Cooper

  A sound like titanic wings clashing together, a noise beyond thunder, beyond anything imagination could conjure, crashed against the ears of the mesmerised watchers, and in its wake came a slow, clopping, terrifyingly measured tread, as though some monstrous supernatural horse bore an unnameable rider towards them, stepping between dimensions and threatening to break into a world too small to contain it. The two Sisters who had accompanied Ilyaya Kimi fell to their knees, sprawling in the dust of the crater bowl; one cried out, but her voice was no more than a tiny, wounded cry against the vast cliff of noise.

  The brilliant light that poured from the casket intensified, pulsed, intensified again until no one could bear to look at it - no one save Tarod. Even the High Initiate recoiled from the radiance as it threatened to burn his eyes to ash in their sockets, flinging his hands up to protect himself while behind him his companions turned away and covered their faces. Only Tarod stood still, staring fixedly at the incredible brilliance swelling above the casket. And only Tarod bore full witness to the manifestation when it came.

  The wall of sound suddenly ceased. One moment it dinned and echoed throughout the crater; the next it was gone, and the shocking peace was broken only by a last, incredibly pure harmonic before that too faded and died. The white light still burned but its edges were turning to gold and at its heart a face was forming; proud, wise, beautiful. Then the sphere of radiance seemed to rise above the altar stone; there was a moment of utter silence -

  A single bolt of white lightning sheared from the core of the light in silent glory and the great stone split in two.

  For a moment even Tarod was blinded, then his vision cleared and he could see the stone once more.

  The casket and the votive chalice were gone. The altar was severed into two perfect halves - and before it stood Aeoris.

  The greatest of the Lords of Order had chosen to take the form of a tall and perfectly proportioned warrior.

  His clothing was a simple white jerkin and trousers, over which a light white cloak had been cast, falling almost to his feet. A plain golden circlet held back long white hair that framed a strong, impassive, stern face. He might have been human - but for his eyes. They had no pupil, no iris; instead, the deep-set sockets were filled with pulsing golden light.

  Keridil dropped to one knee, bowing his head almost to the ground in the ultimate gesture of obeisance. All around him Tarod glimpsed others following his lead; even Cyllan, stunned and awed by the implacable aura that radiated, both physically and astrally, from the White Lord’s figure, sank, fearful and trembling, to her knees in the dust of the crater. He, too, should have knelt - this was the god he had revered all his life, the supernal being, ultimate judge of all in and beyond the world - but he couldn’t do it. However loudly reason and right cried out to him, he couldn’t make the gesture - and he didn’t know why. Instead he stood, immobile and alone, facing Aeoris.

  The White Lord stepped forward until the light that burned around him also encompassed the hunched figure of the High Initiate. He reached out and his right hand came to rest on Keridil’s brow. Tarod saw the shudder that racked Keridil; heard his whispered words:

  ‘My lord Aeoris … ‘

  ‘You have called me, High Initiate, and I am here.’

  Aeoris raised his head and surveyed the scene before him. The terrible, featureless gaze, which looked blind and yet saw far beyond physical dimensions, lingered on Tarod’s face for a moment, then dropped to the ring cupped in Tarod’s hand. His aura drowned the Chaos stone’s small brilliance, but nonetheless Tarod felt the gem pulse hot against his palm.

  Keridil spoke again, more clearly this time, and there was real and painful fear in his voice. ‘My lord Aeoris, I beg your forgiveness if I have transgressed, or shown haste or rashness in my judgement. I believe - we all believe - that only your justice and your mercy can save our land from the dark threat of Chaos.’ Summoning all his courage, he dared to look up. ‘We have done all we could, and we have failed.’

  Aeoris was still gazing at the gem. His eyes were cold, remote; his mouth set in a harsh line. ‘You were not wrong to call upon me,’ he said. ‘For I know that evil walks abroad once more in this world and must be expunged.’ The golden eyes pulsed. ‘And I see before me the quintessence of that evil.’

  Tarod took a deep breath. His throat was dry and speaking was painful; but he forced himself to break the silence.

  ‘My lord, you see before you a loyal and faithful worshipper of the Order which was your greatest gift to this world. I come before you in humility and truth, to commend this stone of Chaos into your hands, that it may never again taint or threaten our land.’

  There was an ugly taste in his mouth. Did his words ring false? They surely couldn’t; this was the goal for which he’d striven since the day when he’d first understood the Chaos stone’s nature …

  ‘A loyal worshipper who does not kneel to his god?’

  There was an edge to Aeoris’s voice; sharp, angry, almost pettish.

  ‘I face you as I am, my lord, that you may see me the clearer. Not a thing of Chaos but a true follower of Aeoris.’

  ‘Yes, I see you the clearer.’ The god did not smile, did not unbend in any way. ‘I see the worm of corruption, the flouter of my law, the threat to my rule. There is no place in the world, or in the life beyond, for such a one.

  You have transgressed. And for those who transgress against me there will be no mercy!’

  Cyllan’s head came up sharply, her face ashen, and she cried out, ‘No! Tarod isn’t evil! Lord Aeoris, I beg of you, grant him - ‘

  ‘Silence!’ The word had the impact of an Arctic wind and Cyllan recoiled in terror. The White God’s gaze fastened on her with distant contempt. ‘I will hear no pleadings from the corrupt. You have sinned against my law and there will be no forgiveness. You are damned.’

  ‘My lord, I ask you to hear me!’ Tarod stepped a pace forward and the god’s blank eyes turned to him. ‘I don’t plead for myself: though I might seek to cleanse the taint of my own nature, I can’t deny what I am. But I entreat you to show mercy to Cyllan. Her only crime has been to fall under my influence, and - ‘

  Aeoris interrupted him. ‘That is crime enough. The girl has sinned and sin will be punished. My word is law - I judge her guilty and she shall be annihilated.’

  Tarod’s jaw-muscles tightened. ‘And is there no room for mercy in your rule, my lord?’

  ‘You dare to question me?’ Aeoris thundered. ‘I am Order, and Order is supreme! I have set the pattern of this world and those who deviate from the pattern will know my wrath!’ His voice dropped but the menace in it was the greater for that. ‘Many have strayed away from the path. There will be a reckoning, and the transgressors will learn what it is to fear their lord and suffer his vengeance.’ He began, slowly, to walk towards Tarod and the huddled figures about him cowered away.

  The mercy of Order is justice. And justice lies in the punishment of those who have erred. There is room for nothing else!’

  Tarod felt as though a shell of ice were forming around his heart, freezing and constricting him. Where was the clemency, the temperance, the open hand of kindness which he had been taught to expect from the greatest of all the gods? Instead, he faced an implacable and savage avenger; that which didn’t conform rigidly to Aeoris’s law, Aeoris would destroy; and there could be no compromise.

  The White Lord had halted a few paces from Tarod and now he extended his right hand in a commanding gesture. ‘I will take that evil jewel,’ he said coldly. ‘I will destroy it. When it is destroyed, the power of those who seek to oppose Order will be broken and our rule will once again be absolute. You and your paramour will accept utter annihilation as your due punishment, and then my brothers and I can begin the work of retribution and the restoration of righteousness throughout the land.’

  Retribution and the restoration of righteousness …

  Tarod’s fingers clenched convulsively over the silver ring. There was no righteousness
in Aeoris’s plan …

  he would scourge all who had strayed from his rigid path, with no care for the suffering and misery he would inflict. In the wake of this ugly revelation Tarod was reminded sharply of his own analogy concerning insects trampled by warring swordsmen; but this was worse, for the cruelty would be calculated and deliberate. If this was the justice of Order, Tarod thought with bitter fury, he wanted none of it.

  We could challenge their sway … The thought came unbidden to his mind, and in his hands the Chaos stone pulsed again. He forced the concept away, telling himself it was too late. He had come this far; he couldn’t turn back now. There must be a way to break through the White Lord’s rigidity, to appeal to his mercy.

  He looked again at Aeoris, who still stood with his hand extended to take the ring, and hope died. The god would never yield, never forgive. He would smash the last vestiges of Chaos in the world and then nothing could stand against him or temper his influence. The reign of Order would be absolute - and it would create a terrible imbalance that would set the world not on a shimmering road to peace and harmony, but on a dark, grim and inevitable path to entropy and death.

  He remembered, though he’d been fighting to keep the memory at bay, the dream-encounter with Yandros while he lay sleeping at the ShuNhadek inn. You have seen injustice, bigotry, persecution, murder, all perpetrated in the name of Order, Yandros had said. Now, with the White Lord’s cold gaze blazing before him, Tarod couldn’t deny the truth of those words. Throw yourself on Aeoris’s mercy, Yandros had said, and where there were seven, there will be six. Imbalance … the realisation, the understanding, struck at the root of his consciousness, and it horrified him. Chaos unchecked was the ultimate insanity - but at the other end of the spectrum, did not Order unchecked threaten to be the same? As a man, Tarod had worshipped Aeoris, loved this world, believed that Order must be supreme. But now he could no longer think as a man thought. There was more; so much more - unhuman experience and wisdom that warned him of the consequences of letting the balance slip beyond redress. Day must be countered by night, cold by heat, love by hatred … and Seven must be countered by Seven.

  Your cherished ways are crumbling back into the arid dust out of which they were born. It was as if Yandros stood beside him and spoke the words aloud; and though he had first heard them so long ago, and had rejected them, Tarod remembered them now with dreadful clarity. Without Chaos, there can be no true Order …

  It had gone too far. There must be balance - for without one force to temper the other, the world would finally collapse into utter destruction. Yandros had been right …

  ‘I still wait.’ Aeoris’s voice cut into his tumbling thoughts, and Tarod felt an involuntary surge of hatred and contempt for the White Lord. He quelled it, licked dry lips …

  ‘Why do you hesitate, worm of corruption?’ The god’s voice was a challenging mockery. ‘Do you fear, at the last, the retribution which you deserve? Well you might!’

  Beside him Tarod felt Cyllan stir fearfully. He reached down, took hold of her hand and felt a terrible grief tear at him. He had been prepared to sacrifice everything for her sake. But the nature of the sacrifice he was about to make was greater than he’d dreamed; for it would divide them more surely than mere death could ever do. He would lose her, forever-and yet they would both live on with the eternal knowledge of that loss.

  He looked at her and knew it had to be. For the sake of the world he loved, for the sake of life itself …

  ‘Give me the jewel, demon of Chaos.’ Aeoris’s face was darkening with the anger of one thwarted.

  Tarod gazed back at him. His fingers relaxed, so that the silver ring with its clear jewel shone, struggling against the brilliance of the White Lord’s aura. Then, slowly and icily, he smiled, and said with soft malevolence, ‘I think not.’

  ‘What is this?’ Aeoris’s voice was thunder.

  Tarod laughed softly. ‘You have become blind, Aeoris of Order. You have reigned unchecked for so long that you have forgotten what it is to be opposed. I think the time has come for you to learn that lesson afresh!’

  At the periphery of his vision he saw Keridil rising to his feet. The High Initiate’s face was a study in shock as intuition warned him of what was about to happen; beyond him the Matriarch and the High Margrave stared without comprehending. Tarod raised his left hand which held the ring; he touched the stone against his heart and saw Aeoris’s arrogant confidence replaced by astonishment - and then the first fires of the power within Tarod took hold.

  He knew the door and he knew what lay beyond it.

  Through all his years in this world he had barred that door fast, shutting out the knowledge and the memories to which it led, shutting out the titanic, nameless, ageless forces even as they cried for release. But no longer. In his mind - in his soul - Tarod felt the bar lifting. He was not human - he had never been human - and now it was time to relinquish the mask of humanity he had worn for too long …

  A cry that might have been the last protest of a fallible, mortal man was wrenched from his throat as the door that had separated him from his heritage smashed open and, as the long-dead volcano in which they stood had once erupted, the power exploded to life within him. A screaming, shrieking wind roared down on the crater bowl, the rock floor bucked and heaved, throwing the terrified company into sprawling tangles of limbs - and a light as black as Aeoris’s aura was white began to emanate from Tarod’s tall, gaunt figure. The semblance of humanity was slipping from him; the wild mane of his hair snatched and whipped in the gale about a white face in which every bone was etched to razor sharpness, and in their dark sockets his eyes burned like emerald flames, alight with an unholy, insane joy. Black tendrils smoked around his frame, forming a terrible cloak that hid all but one skeletal hand, and as his lips drew back in a smile he was the dark twin of Yandros, essence of Chaos incarnate.

  Somewhere, a world away, Ilyaya Kimi began to wail on a thin, pitiful scale, rising and falling. Fenar Alacar crouched, retching with blind terror beside her; others covered their ears, hid their faces. Cyllan, who had been flung aside by the monstrous power erupting from Tarod, could only stare like a trapped, mesmerised animal at the man - being - she had loved, as understanding threatened to split her mind apart. She had faced Yandros, but Yandros had been able only to manifest a fraction of his true self. What she witnessed now was Chaos in its triumphant entirety, and Chaos had a malevolent beauty and perfection that stirred pride, joy, despair and a savage longing to clash and battle together in her mind.

  The wind died, and the silence was appalling. But it lasted only a moment before a deep, shattering throb, almost at the limit of mortal discernment, began far beneath the rocks of the crater, in the mountain’s heart.

  The ring in Tarod’s left hand started to pulse with its rhythm, growing stronger with each grim beat so that the stone’s light began to challenge the aura of the White Lord. And slowly, gradually, the ring was changing. The intricate silver base faded, leaving only the soulstone, unsupported, hovering over Tarod’s heart. And then the stone, too, lost its solidity, seeming to merge with the smoking tendrils that shrouded Tarod’s form. Stabbing points of brilliance radiated out from it in rhythm with the inexorable throbbing, and suddenly the jewel was gone, and in its place, pulsing like a monstrous heart, was a seven-rayed star - the emblem of Chaos.

  Tarod raised his head and pointed towards the shimmering form of Aeoris before him. When he spoke, his voice was a shifting, sibilant whisper that drew its essence from dimensions beyond comprehension.

  ‘Do you know me, Aeoris of Order?’

  Aeoris’s eyes turned from molten gold to white fire, searing Tarod’s black aura. ‘I know you, Chaos! And I will destroy you!’

  ‘If you can, White Lord. If you can!’

  Aeoris raised a hand, and a single bolt of lightning smashed the crater floor at Tarod’s feet, shattering rock and fusing it into a new and tortured shape. The White God smiled. ‘If I can?’ His voice was mocking. �
��You presume a great deal, creature of Chaos, if you presume to challenge me! I am Lord of Life and Death. I and my brothers are sole masters of the forces that govern this world.’ His tone grew harsher. ‘Do you dare to defy the reign of Life and Death? The rule of the Lords of Time and Space, and of Earth and Air, Fire and Water?’

  As Aeoris spoke, naming the ranks of the seven White Gods, six iridescent columns shimmered into existence at his back, in utterly perfect symmetry. They turned, spun, their facets reflecting brilliantly; then they coalesced into six appallingly beautiful human figures, white-haired, golden-eyed, each bearing a massive double-handed sword and each the perfect twin to Aeoris.

  As one, the Lords of Order smiled pityingly on their adversary, and their swords came up in a smooth, sweeping movement to reflect their own auras into a single dazzling coruscation of pure light.

  Tarod raised his face to the ragged circle of sky and the seven-rayed star at his heart pulsed anew. High above in the black void a pinpoint of light flashed into being out of utter darkness; a single, glaring white eye in the centre of the firmament. It, too, began to pulse with the same primordial rhythm until the two cold stars were as one in terrible harmony.

  Long ago it seemed now, and far away, in the Marble Hall deep beneath the Castle of the Star Peninsula, Tarod had banished Yandros from the world. He alone had possessed the power then to thwart Chaos; and he alone had the power, now, to reverse that banishment and break the barrier which kept the dark Lord from returning to challenge his ancient enemy.

  Where there were seven, there will be six …

  Yandros’s words rang again in Tarod’s mind, and he smiled an old, knowing and affectionate smile. The time for doubt was past. He had shed his humanity, allowed the mask to shatter and reveal what lay beneath, accepted the truth of what he was. The Lords of Chaos would number seven again - and, after long centuries of waiting, they would reclaim their place in the world.

  He looked at Aeoris and the six glittering figures who flanked him, and spoke softly but with chilling pride.