Phate

by Jason Alan

  She was purring now, her breath’s deep rhythmic hush manifesting only a hint of the heat of the fires that lay behind it. She brought her head down and her facial features sparkled like wintery stars, illuminating the expression on her glorious face.

  She looked on Drinwor with what could only be described as love.

  Drinwor gasped. “You are beautiful.” And at that moment, something occurred to him. “Wait a minute…I don’t even know your name!”

  The spirit elves’ first song of the day rose up to accompany her voice when she said: “I am called Morning’s Hope.”

  “Morning’s Hope,” Drinwor echoed, “I like that. I like that a lot.”

  “I’m glad you do, my Emperor, for I am yours forever.”

  Drinwor shifted in his stance. “Why would you do this? I mean, why would you so willingly offer yourself to someone you’ve never met?”

  Morning’s Hope didn’t answer him right away. She straightened up, her prodigious head lifting so that she could look at the Sun’s Remembrance, which was still asleep. While she stared at it, her mouth moved as if she silently conversed with some invisible entity. At length she curled her neck back down, bringing her head right before his, and she said, “I offer myself because you are the Emperor of the Sky, the Son and Savior of the Stars, the wielder of Surassis destined to defeat the Dark Forever. I offer myself because there is no charge, no mission, no destiny more worthy or righteous.

  “But most of all, if I may be so bold to say, I offer myself because you are Herard’s son. And for that alone, I would fly with you into the Dark Forever itself. It is my eternal honor, Drinwor Fang, to serve the Savior of all Souls.”

  And with that she bent her forelegs and bowed, her snout nearly brushing the floor.

  Drinwor was compelled to bow back. “I’m overwhelmed, and truly humbled. All I can do is continue to thank you.” He straightened back up. “You know, it’s been strange, everyone referring to me as Emperor. With everything else going on, I guess it just hasn’t sunk in yet. I don’t even know what it means, really. I have no idea how to rule.”

  “It’s about faith.”

  “Faith?”

  “Yes,” Morning’s Hope said. “Have faith that what you think and do is good and true, and go courageously forward. I, and all who serve you, will also have faith in what you do, and will follow. To rule well is to be well, and to selflessly extend the will of your heart to all you serve.” She paused for just a second, nodded, and continued. “I can already see you have great character, Drinwor. And you will come to learn that consideration and compassion have a strength no darkness can ever defeat.”

  “We shall see,” Drinwor whispered.

  Then his glance was drawn to the upper reaches of the chamber. The whole place was brightening, for outside, darkness was being defeated by the dawn. The Sun’s Remembrance flickered awake. The interior clouds glittered with dragon scales, the blue walls lightened, and shafts of light shot down to the floor, immersing Morning’s Hope just as they had last evening immersed the Fallen Angel. The dragon’s interior flared. Her veins lit as if her heart was pumping lightning through them. Her full outline appeared, and she became even more glorious—an Empress herself, Drinwor thought.

  It was marvelous. She was marvelous.

  Drinwor, like so many beings on so many worlds in so many times, took the artistic stroke of nature as a sign. He believed the sun had just spoken to him.

  And he believed so had his father.

  He grasped his sword-charm (which was now glowing a soft blue) and felt a warming in his heart. Even though he felt undeserving of this incredible dragon’s loyalty, he felt exceedingly grateful. And although he didn’t yet realize it, some small healing had begun in the guise of companionship.

  He thought now on what Morning’s Hope had just said—Have faith that what you think and do is good and true, and go courageously forward—and took it to heart.

  Go courageously forward indeed.

  Drinwor stepped closer to Morning’s Hope and reached up to touch her. She brought her face down to his, and he patted her snout.

  She smiled, then lifted her head back up. “The others should be waking now. Morning has come, and we should already be making for the Hall of Voices.”

  And just as she finished speaking, a cloud broke from the cluster near the ceiling and floated down. It was silky and silvery-white, like a pillow from Drinwor’s room. It neared the bottom of the chamber and dispersed into a million silver specks. The specks spilled onto the floor, piling like sand filling a humanoid shaped glass, and soon a recognizable image formed.

  It was Vu Verian, coming together molecule by molecule.

  When he was whole, he blinked and wiggled his fingers. His sky blue eyes were wild with the light of the Sun’s Remembrance, and he walked up to the dusk elf and his dragon.

  “Good morning, Emperor Fang,” he said.

  Drinwor flashed a playful little smile to Morning’s Hope, but resisted the urge to sarcastically comment on being addressed as Emperor. He simply returned the greeting. “Good morning, Vu Verian.”

  Vu Verian nodded to him, then bowed his head to Morning’s Hope. “Milady.”

  “Good morning,” she returned. “Was your night restful?”

  The sky elf considered this for a moment. “Yes, yes it was. I dreamed of some faraway place.” He smiled faintly. “I believe it was where my people have gone.”

  “I see.” Morning’s Hope then motioned to Drinwor. “You may want to move a few paces away from there.”

  Drinwor took some quick steps to his right, and a little cloud of billowing smoke exploded in the space he had just been standing in. A myriad of colors coalesced in the cloud’s center, then the smoke dissolved downward as if it had been sucked into vents in the floor.

  Standing in the smoke’s place, coughing and wheezing, was the deformed figure of Morigos of the Moom. Holding onto his crooked staff as if for dear life, he exclaimed, “Damn this Ever Dying and the vampire demon who gave it to me! I wish it would just finally kill me so I could be done with all this nonsense!”

  “I concur,” Vu Verian whispered beneath his breath. Then he raised his voice and said, “And good morning to you, too.”

  “Yes, yes,” Morigos said, lifting his staff and waving it around. “Good morning to you all.” He looked to the sky elf. “Well…maybe not all.” He cackled and brought his staff back down.

  Vu Verian sighed, shook his head, but said nothing.

  Drinwor looked at this diverse group of companions that was to accompany him to the Hall of Voices. Despite the little back-and-forth chiding, the elder elves seemed relatively peaceful now, almost lighthearted toward one another (at least in comparison to their previous encounters). It was as if yesterday’s hostilities had softened with the dawn. Perhaps, Drinwor thought, they both deemed the journey ahead was going to be difficult enough without them constantly trying to kill each other.

  Drinwor looked to Morning’s Hope. “Are we all flying? I don’t recall anyone telling me exactly how we’re going to get to the hall, wherever it is…”

  “Yes,” Morning’s Hope answered, “we are flying. I will carry you, Vu Verian will fly himself, and as for Morigos, I’ve offered a trusted friend as a mount.”

  Morigos shook as if chilled. “Eh, I’d still prefer a Kroon bat. Faster than any behemoth dragon, I’d wager. And if we’re going to go down, I’d rather be astride my own cr—”

  “Morigos,” Morning’s Hope cut in, “we’ve already discussed this.”

  “Yes, yes, let’s see this creature.”

  Morning’s Hope reared on her hind legs and called upward in the complex yet smooth tongue of the dragonkind.

  Her call was answered, for something immediately flew down from out of the clouds. As it closed, they recognized it as the creature that had alerted them of Ulith Urn’s awakening the day before, the insect dragon. Its wings fluttering in a blur, it came down and landed beside them.

>   “Fleeting Shadow.” Morning’s Hope said to the dark elf mage.

  “What?” Morigos sputtered.

  “He’s called Fleeting Shadow, and I trust you will find him plenty agile.”

  “If you say so,” Morigos grumbled. “Certainly is one ugly beast!”

  Morning’s Hope gave the dark elf a less than genial look. “Come, it is long past time for us to leave.”

  Vu Verian looked about, then lifted his hand. “Wait. Where’s the Fallen Angel? I had hoped to see her before we left.”

  “She is gone,” Drinwor informed him. “I saw her leave last evening.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Vu Verian, the light in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. “So, she’s already made for the stars. Well then, who’s to look after Vren Adiri while she’s away?”

  “The dragons and spirit elves will watch over Vren Adiri for Drinwor,” Morning’s Hope replied.

  Drinwor’s forehead crinkled with surprise. “For me?”

  Morning’s Hope nodded. “You are the Emperor of the Sky. All the sky elf palaces are yours now, for the Fallen Angel will not be returning. Her time on Phate is finished, may she be blessed by the Seven Glories.” Then she turned away and strode toward the large corridor that led to the main entrance hall.

  The group followed her, but not before the two elder elves cast quick glances to a rather shocked looking Drinwor.

  Drinwor shrugged, said: “My life continues to get more and more insane.”

  Morigos chuckled, and they exited the chamber.

  Morning’s Hope led them outside.

  They walked until they were halfway across the gemstone floor, then paused to take in the morning. It was bright. The cloudwall was serene, its innards bereft of lightning, for nothing ill nor evil flew in the surrounding skies. The wind was cool but comfortable, the air between its gusts delicious and warm. Behind them, Vren Adiri’s spires were aglow, for a ray of sunlight had slipped inside the realm to bathe the tops of the twining towers.

  “It is as I knew it would be,” Morning’s Hope declared.

  “And how is that?” Morigos inquired.

  “I prayed last night. I asked the sun to imbue the sky with the brightness of old…if only for today.” She turned to them. “You see? All light is not defeated! Hope still remains.”

  Though somewhat somber, Vu Verian was moved enough to admit, “It does look to be unusually bright this day.”

  “Yes, it does,” Morning’s Hope agreed. Then she set down a wing and said, “Come my Emperor, let us roam your sky!”

  Drinwor’s insides fluttered with excited chills and he bounded up her wing. To his surprise, a throne that appeared to be made of the same translucent substance as her skin materialized in the center of her broad back.

  “I hope you are comfortable in it, my Lord,” Morning’s Hope said. “If not, I can change its shape and consistency until it pleases you.”

  Drinwor shrugged. “I’m sure it will be fine!”

  It certainly appeared fine. It was as royal looking as it was magical, its silvery ornamentations twinkling in the sunlight. Its arms were sculpted dragons, its high back like a great shield whose angelic crest was etched with glowing white runes. Drinwor eased into it, and he himself seemed to glow in its embrace. His hands gained a firm grasp on the dragons’ heads, and conjured straps looped around the base to enwrap his ankles. Now sitting in his throne, the dusk elf truly felt like an Emperor!

  “Fine indeed!” he cried.

  The wind lifted his hair, his eyes blazed their deepest blue, and for a moment he was compelled to raise high his sword of waiting fire. But he didn’t. Instead he took a deep breath, calmed himself down, and looked aside, to where Vu Verian was transforming.

  The sky elf’s long white hair melded into his robes and his robes transformed into feathers. His body enlarged and his eyes spread wide and round upon his face, his head expanding around them. He was the Great White Owl again. He shook his tail and tested his wings. He was ready.

  “Oh, let’s get on with it!” Morigos grumbled.

  Fleeting Shadow lowered himself and stretched out a multi-jointed leg, offering its gradient as a stair. Morigos huffed, “Bah, I’d just as soon sprout my own wings than fly such a creature as this,” but climbed onto the creature’s back.

  All were ready.

  Morning’s Hope looked upon them and loosed these words: “Remember, there is peril everywhere. Although the sun watches over us, her radiant light cannot hide us from all evil. Ever will the observing eyes of the Dark Forever be upon us. The Sunsword, even secured as it is, will beam like a beacon in the dark. We must be strong, we must be swift, and to those who would do us harm, we must be unmerciful.”

  And with that, she spread her great wings and leaped into the sky. Vu Verian jumped into the air and flew up beside her, with Fleeting Shadow flying behind him. They soared through the upper eastern corner of the cloudwall, then burst out the other side, gaining speed as they made their way into the high skies of Phate.

  And all the universe held its breath, for the quest of the Son and Savior of the Stars had at long last begun.

  I’m thrilled that our heroes’ quest has finally begun, and delighted that Morning’s Hope is with them. Oh, how I hope Drinwor and his companions can infuse the Sunsword with the One Soul before it is too late! But it is difficult not to wonder on wretched Syndreck. I think it’s time to take another look in on the necromancer, don’t you?

  Ah, yes, someone’s coming for him…

  It is better to cross the finish line burned, beaten, and broken than to never finish at all.

  Vol Drokion of the Memnion Observers

  Wizards of the City of Exalta

  The universe parted for Soular Centurion 7 like a sea before a savior. He shot past starships made of light, raced comets through the Cloven Streams, and surpassed solar dragons on the outskirts of the Angelic Spheres. He wove through the Ionizz Nebulae Cluster, then curled around the galaxy of the Draxiah Meeh—vicious aliens whose technology was so terrible it could destroy time. Now the centurion flew so fast he himself manipulated time as he leaped through self-made wormholes in an attempt to get to Phate before it was too late. He was seldom driven so. He knew it was no small matter of a single civilization at stake. The Dark Forever was threatening to consume all the universe!

  His universe.

  Soular Centurion 7 would not see it burn.

  He flew on yet faster, reaching speeds even the Fallen Angel hadn’t achieved.

  Finally, after flying through a seemingly endless stretch of empty space, he came to the darkest region of the universe.

  – TARGET COSMIC SECTOR ACQUIRED –

  In this sector he found a lone galaxy curtained by a tightening wall of predator black holes. It was galactic genocide. Hundreds of stars were being swallowed every second. Had any angels seen the death of so many hopes and dreams firsthand, they would have wept for all time. But the centurion wasn’t concerned about the trillions who were perishing, for his energies were devoted to all eternity. He couldn’t pause for those unlucky few doomed to sacrifice their lives in the face of Total Universal Annihilation.

  He evaded the black holes and flew to the far arm of the galaxy, where, at last, he found the sorcerous world of Phate.

  The planet was shrouded. The fragmented remains of its exploded sister stretched a veil of asteroids across its face—asteroids whose arcs were failing.

  – SEVERE METEOR STORM IMMINENT, CALCULATIONS FOR TIME OF IMPACTS PROCEEDING –

  But the centurion summarily ceased his calculations, for the cosmic bombardment didn’t concern him, either. The damage the meteors would reap was inconsequential. That the necromancer be destroyed as quickly as possible was his sole objective. In fact, Phate itself could perish so long as the Dark Forever didn’t step into the primary universe.

  He carried on through the asteroid belt, his fists pulverizing anything in his path, and came to hover just over Phate’s atmosphere. Ther
e he took a moment to view the world. If the surface were a hide, it looked as if it had long ago been lashed by a burning whip, and the wounds had never completely healed. Great black gashes streaked across entire continents, and the lands bled lava. Some parts of the world were on fire. Some places were covered with storms so fierce, their lightning strikes were blinding even from space.

  So, this was Phate, such as it was…

  Its characteristics were noted, but of little importance, for the centurion need only pinpoint one particular location. He set his scanners upon the planet’s surface and quickly located the landmass known to Phatians as the Continent Isle of Volcar. And there, clinging to the edge of a mile-high cliff, were the Dying Towers of Ulith Urn.

  The lair of the necromancer.

  The centurion conducted a scan of the towers…

  – 97.2 PERCENT CHANCE THE ONLY LIVING BEING INSIDE IS THE TARGET: SYNDRECK THE BROODING –

  Only ninety seven percent…?

  Good enough.

  Soular Centurion 7 blasted down through the atmosphere with nearly enough force to cleave the planet in two. He was a meteor himself, a streaking blur of blue fire slicing through Phate’s morning sky. He reasoned that if he impacted the towers at this speed, his power cells would ignite, thus causing an explosion so mighty it would annihilate Ulith Urn (and likely take out the western half of Volcar with it).

  But alas this was not to be. For you see, one second before he would have hit, he detected a shield of sorts, some strange sorcerous conjuration that surrounded the towers with multidimensional clumps of translucent matter. The clumps weren’t impenetrable, but their effectiveness increased as the energy that assaulted them intensified. To impact them at the speed he’d obtained would be like smashing into a reinforced iron wall that was a thousand feet thick.

  Ironically, Drekklor had never perceived anything like the centurion attacking Ulith Urn when he’d converted the Glyph of Multiversal Guarding into something more useful.

  Soular Centurion 7 veered aside and descended onto the once grassy hillocks that rimmed the inland edge of the Wicked Plains.