The Sword of Shadows

by Adrian Cole

  “Is this an outpouring I must hear as part of the payment for your service?”

  “No, it is not. But have you no pity?”

  “Should I display it, who am shown none?”

  Scyllarza came forward, in spite of her revulsion. She touched the Voidal gently. “Beloved, perhaps you are too hard. This creature suffers for some great sin, just as you do. You seek justice for yourself. Perhaps it is the same for Evergreed.”

  The Voidal’s scowl softened and he nodded. “You are right. Impatience is not an ally on this quest. Very well, Evergreed. Give us your history. Then earn your release.”

  Evergreed emitted a deep sigh that made his entire superstructure shake. “Would that I could. Well, to begin. It is my zealous appetite that has been the cause of my downfall. Once I had a place among deities, although I had no ambition to be a mighty leader, nor all-powerful. I had enough companions to suit me and was too insignificant to have enemies, or any of consequence. Alas, I loved only my stomach. It became my shrine, my place of worship, for there was nothing I would not offer it to appease its endless craving.”

  The listeners heard this with more than a little dismay, not the least Elfloq, who scowled at his surroundings with an even more heart-felt squeamishness.

  “In the omniverse,” Evergreed continued, “there were many choices of things to devour and for a long time I fed on all manner of them, ever more voraciously: men, beasts, demons, sweet and bitter alike. Then one day — by pure accident, you understand — I devoured a minor deity. Such a trivial, hardly worshipped deity! And yet, for all his worthlessness, such a delicious victual! From that moment I had become addicted, enslaved. In no time at all I had eaten other small gods, until at last the time came when I swallowed quite a large god. Ah, succulent Octopang! My sins then came to the attention of far greater gods than I.

  “From that time, I was undone. Such a demanding stomach, said the gods, must be put to use, for an engine like that must surely produce remarkable energy. This should not be wasted, they said. Hence they trapped me, all too easily, and caused to grow around me this ship, which itself feeds from me and has become both my prison and my external body. All that you see is Evergreed, and neither one can be separated from the other. I cannot move, only by satisfying my craving for food, but dependant upon what I eat, I can travel anywhere in the omniverse. But I can never see the places I visit, trapped as I am within myself. So you see, there is no release for me. I doubt that you could destroy me, for the gods are not likely to permit such a thing.”

  The Voidal had been considering all this in silence. He could feel the hunger seeping from the creature as it spoke. “You said you served me once. How did you come to be buried in this world?”

  Evergreed did not answer at once. “I am not certain I remember. It was long, long ago. I have been dreaming, as I do after any meal of reasonable proportion. I am unable to recall who it was that last fed me so that I could carry him on his journey. Nor can I recall what it was that I ate. There was some rather vile wine that did not mix at all well with the food. Yes, I recall that. It quite upset my system and I can assure you, that is something most rare. Perhaps I was poisoned.”

  The Voidal looked uneasily at Scyllarza. “I do not like mysteries. It is too convenient that the ship is here.”

  “You knew that it was. You sought it.”

  The dark man scowled. “Yes, somehow I knew that.”

  “The ship claims to have served you once before —”

  “Tell me,” said the Voidal to the ship, “how you know me. How did you serve me? Do the Dark Gods command you now?”

  “Your memory is blighted. So is mine. I know that, before my fall from grace, I was one of a number of subordinates to you, but I cannot recall what it was you did. You had power, great power. Many were jealous of it. Yes, and it was taken from you, for you were banished! I remember that much. And, and it was then that my own gastric cravings began! Yes, yes, self-pity, self-torment, all followed. Your servants were cursed, just as you were. Cursed and scattered.”

  The Voidal was nodding. “Then you have no love for the Dark Gods. Like me, you would strike at them. Repay them for their so-called justice.”

  Evergreed gave another deep sigh. “I fear them, I admit. But you, dark lord, have recovered much of your powers. That much I can sense.”

  Elfloq edged forward. “Will Evergreed take us to Hedrazee, master? Or would it not be prudent to avoid that place? It may well be a trap for you.”

  “All that I desire is there. Within me are powers that cannot be chained forever. The Dark Gods fear them. Tell me, Evergreed, what is the price of travel?”

  “It is determined by the place to which you wish to travel. There is nowhere in the omniverse that I cannot reach. Even now, it is so.”

  “Indeed? Then take me to Holy Hedrazee, where the Divine Askers hide themselves from my vengeance.”

  Evergreed again fell silent, though only for a moment. “Hedrazee, you say? Yes, I can deliver you to that place. But I will need to consume a monumental repast. To get there will require much energy.” The hunger in the voice was a palpable force.

  “What will you have?”

  Elfloq had again slipped back into shadow, not at all certain what his master would be prepared to sacrifice to win Hedrazee’s halls. Since the goal had come in sight, the Voidal had become fixed and determined, far more cold and ruthless than Elfloq had known him before. There was a new darkness in him now. But perhaps there was no other way to oppose his enemies.

  During the silence that ensued, while all of them considered their possible futures, the frightful din from without breached the very walls of the ship’s hull. Evergreed gasped volubly. “What sounds are those?”

  “A world sinks into final oblivion,” said the Voidal. “You hear the cries of its damned souls, slipping down into eternity. As they recede, they curse me, for in my hunger, I have brought their world to its doom.”

  “There must be — many of them,” said Evergreed softly.

  “Others have joined them, down through the fog of time. As many as there are pebbles on a beach.”

  Evergreed’s hull shuddered. “That many? How deliciously timely! Give them to me.”

  The Voidal’s face clouded. “To you?”

  “Let it be the price. Give them to me.”

  “How?”

  “You have only to command it and they will come into me.”

  Scyllarza and Elfloq drew back at the horrifying suggestion, understanding at once what the huge ship intended.

  But the Voidal did not hesitate for long, shrugging. “Very well. If that is to be the fee, I will give you what you ask.”

  The ship shivered in ghastly anticipation. The Voidal turned, about to return to the deck, but a last question reached him from the pit.

  “You have a pilot? I need eyes.”

  “I have a fallen Divine Asker,” the dark man said, indicating Vulparoon, whose silent horror at the conversation was etched across his white features.

  “Then let him steer. My time on this trip will be occupied with two simple functions, sleep and digestion. Once I have feasted, it is all that I am able to do. Your pilot will steer me easily enough, provided he chooses his course with skill. Go! I will open ways for those outside to enter me. My appetite is truly whetted.”

  The Voidal and his companions wasted no time in quitting Evergreed’s presence. Up on deck an anxious Orgoom joined them, eager to know what was to happen.

  “You will go through with this sacrifice?” Scyllarza asked the dark man, her own face filled with doubts.

  “I have no choice now. I stand against the evil powers that they feared, this Evil Time as they call it. It spreads throughout the omniverse, not just here, as I told Renegorn. It will take more than the men of this world to overcome it.”

  From beyond the ship there now came an unnatural silence. Vulparoon rushed to the side to gaze over at the plains. He saw at once the long files of beings as t
hey ascended the sinewy, tongue-like pathways into the orifices of the ship’s hull that Evergreed had opened to them. The Asker pulled away, utterly appalled.

  “What have you done!” he cried.

  “Get to the helm!” the Voidal snarled.

  “But — the souls! Are they to have no rest? Is it not enough that you have destroyed their worlds?”

  “This does not concern you.”

  “Darkness has tried to conquer this world before. But Light triumphed here and the Peace Monks have tended the remnants, ensuring survival. But in this act, you have not served the Light —”

  “You saw evil fall! You saw the Seneschals broken. Look at Xatrovul! He serves me now. We have driven back the darkness. We must pursue this to the end!”

  “I cannot do this,” Vulparoon murmured. “I cannot obey you.”

  The Voidal spoke more softly. “Go to the helm. Be ready to pilot this ship.”

  Still Vulparoon refused. The Voidal drew out the sliver of madness and held it up for the Asker to see. It was scarlet with livid fire. “Must I lodge this in your heart?”

  Vulparoon shuddered, but knew he was beaten, his resistance collapsing. Silently he went up to the helm as commanded.

  The Voidal fixed his cold stare upon the endless ranks of souls as they fed into the ship. “This is the work of the Dark Gods,” he said to Scyllarza. “They knew I would have a choice. Perhaps they did not think I would do this. Perhaps they thought they were safe in their retreat. Again they are wrong.”

  She nodded, but there was more than sorrow in her eyes.

  His hand reached out and closed on hers. “I do not expect you to love me for what I have to do. But have faith in me. There will be a reckoning for this and for all that has been meted out to us. The others, too.”

  She smiled uneasily, nodding. He left her and went to where the Seneschal sat in the prow of the great ship, hunched up and gazing out into an invisible void.

  “When we reach our destination, will you find the last sword for me?” the Voidal asked him.

  Xatrovul turned: to the Voidal’s dismay, he saw that the creature was slowly decomposing, his body like earth, drying out and crumbling.

  “How long?” the dark man asked him.

  “I cannot say. But long enough, I think, to help you find what you seek. The Sword of Oblivion will be yours before I join my brothers in the last emptiness.”

  The Voidal merely nodded, moving away again to be with Scyllarza.

  Xatrovul watched him, eyes filled with a secret worship. “I serve you faithfully yet, master,” he said.

  * * * *

  Time passed slowly, its currents dragging day into pitch night, until the endless processions ceased their march into the belly of the great ship. When it was over, there came a deep silence. After this the craft shuddered into life. Soon it was moving, the reluctant Vulparoon standing at its helm, studying the heavens where stars guided him. Evergreed seemed to slide over the surface of the world: from his sides there now protruded banks of fin-like shapes that beat in slow sweeps against the air, drawing the ship on like some immense aerial fish. From the rails, the companions looked down and saw the world beneath them as it changed.

  Now it became more clear that it was part of a gigantic collision of worlds and dimensions, warping the very fabric of reason, twisting natural laws, giving vent to all manner of confusions. The desert plains dropped down in a rapid succession of canyon walls, like a stairway of gods, to the edge of an ocean. Huge waves tore in maliciously at the disintegrating coastline, where clouds of spume salted the air for hundreds of feet. Evergreed glided easily down to the water, his hull skimming across it, the fins settling the craft, making the transition from air to sea effortlessly.

  Beside Vulparoon, the Voidal studied the vast seas ahead. “This seems a singularly physical voyage. Surely Evergreed can sail the astral with ease.”

  “Indeed,” nodded the Asker, who seemed resolved to his plight. “But we have to pass through the Crimson Gate. And it is here, somewhere in this mangled tapestry of dimensions. Once through it, the path to Holy Hedrazee will be open to us, though there will be dangers beyond imagining.”

  “No more than I would expect,” said the Voidal coolly.

  “The Crimson Gate will be defended,” Vulparoon went on and in his eyes all the old terrors returned. But he watched the sea, the endless rise and fall of its deeps. Beneath him he could feel the sleep of the ship, and tried not to think of what he had seen in the hold.

  Dawn found them crossing the turgid ocean and the Voidal’s impatience grew with every passing minute. He was about to urge Vulparoon to greater efforts, but the Asker pointed directly ahead. “Can you hear that?” he asked.

  The dark man listened, nodding. A distant roar came from the flat horizon, where thickening fog clouds rose to blot out the otherwise cloudless sky. As Evergreed surged through the waters, the roar grew disturbingly louder, apparently along the length of the horizon ahead, no matter which part of it the company listened to.

  “Elfloq!” the Voidal called.

  The familiar hovered near at hand, knowing full well what his master was going to ask him. “I know, I know! You want me to fly ahead and find out what it is.”

  Scyllarza laughed softly. Beside her, the Voidal could not help but smile, though he was uneasy about what might lie ahead. He waved Elfloq away and, muttering to himself, the familiar flew up into a thermal and let it swing him way ahead of the ship, high over the sea. He could sense the thickening of the fogs and the growing roar from beyond.

  Gods of the Abyss, he thought. If this were not an ocean, I would swear that that was a — no, no! That’s not possible! Even here —. But his worst fears were realised and he swung round and flew back to the ship as fast as he could, which was slower than he would have liked, for the very air now seemed to be trying to drive him back towards what he had glimpsed. But he reached the ship and dropped down to the observers below.

  “Well?” said the Voidal.

  “I think we should turn the ship around,” Elfloq blurted.

  “For what reason?”

  “For a very good reason —”

  “Elfloq!” said Scyllarza, though she could see that the little familiar was terrified. “Tell us what you’ve seen.”

  “It’s a…well, it’s a waterfall,” he said, voice trailing off.

  “A waterfall?” echoed the Voidal.

  “It would have to be huge beyond imagining,” said Scyllarza.

  Elfloq’s eyes bulged. “Ah, yes, mistress. It is.”

  The Voidal swung round to where Vulparoon stood at the helm. “This world’s twisted dimensions permit this paradox. Evergreed’s course remains a straight one. Pilot, does the craft know what is ahead?”

  The Asker nodded. “We will pass Worldfall. It is nothing to what waits us beyond. But if we are to reach the Crimson Gate, we must go on.” He spoke mechanically, as if he had shut his own emotions deep away inside him, protection and against the nightmares to come. “But the ship will negotiate Worldfall without mishap.”

  They could do little more than watch the oncoming fog banks and listen to the increasing volume of the roaring waters, which had soon become deafening. The seas around them swirled, waves rising as if stirred by invisible forces, surging forward towards the waterfall where the ocean dropped into an unfathomable abyss. Before the ship got close to the drop, the fogs, mountainous clouds composed of the rising spray, enveloped them in a cold, grey shadow. Elfloq took to the air, while Orgoom stood close by his master and Scyllarza. Vulparoon had closed his eyes, hands white at the wheel, but he did not waver.

  Before they were aware of it, the ship had reached the very lip of the colossal falls. Millions upon millions of tons of water plunged over the drop into an abyss like the vault between worlds. There was a moment of supreme apprehension as Evergreed’s prow thrust out into the air beyond the falls and his crew held on grimly to the rails. But the immense ship slid out into the emp
tiness like an oversize bird, fins beating now like wings. The fogs swirled around it, cuffing it but lifting it. From overhead, Elfloq gaped at the transition from water to air. The ship was gliding, effortlessly, slowly dropping down through the fogs, lower than the ocean already.

  The familiar swooped down to the deck, where his companions were gasping, still stunned by the sensation. Elfloq let out a croak that was meant to be a laugh. “It flies!”

  Orgoom glowered at him. “If it had not, what would you have done then? Fled?”

  The others ignored the brief argument that followed. Instead they concentrated on the seemingly endless fogs that swirled up from below, the noise of the falls behind them almost drowning out their thoughts. Down, ever down the ship dropped, moving forward as it did so, away from Worldfall until at last its noise subsided into the background. They went to the stern of the ship to try and see below them, but there seemed no bottom to the plummeting falls, the grey mists like a landscape miles under them.

  Ahead of them, the fogs became light mist, which eventually parted. Overhead the sky was again cloudless, but bronzed, the sun beating down powerfully, its heat intense. Evergreed was still dropping, easing down towards what could now be perceived as another landscape. As he approached it, the crew saw that it was like yet another desert expanse, flat and featureless, except for barren outcrops of bleached rock and flat, cracked expanses of stone and dust.

  “A sea bottom,” Scyllarza said to the Voidal, pointing to strange rock formations that might once have been banks of coral. “It’s as though this world collided with the one we left above the falls. But it’s own seas have leaked away.”

  Beyond the vivid yellows and oranges of the dried up sea, they saw the sunlight gleaming. Elfloq flew ahead to investigate once more and he came back with his usual sour face. “A small sea, or huge lake,” he told them. “Stagnant. Evergreed would do well to keep to the sky.”

  The Voidal could see why Elfloq was concerned as the waters came into view. They were indeed stagnant, oily with rotting weed, thick like the mires on the world they had left, but emptier, as if toxic. Apart from a clump of black weed, nothing broke the surface. Mercifully Evergreed glided some distance above those foetid waters. Vulparoon confirmed that there was no need to drop down on to them, but the ship kept a direct course, rather than make a lengthy detour. They could see the shores of the sea, miles away on either side, barren, blackened and utterly desolate.