by Kyle West
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t strike you dead now,” I finished.
Rakhim now shook, and he fell to his knees. Violent tears issued from his eyes – tears of anger, or of despair, I couldn’t say. Even when I embraced the Xenofold, his mind was clouded, hiding whatever feelings boiled within.
“That would be justice,” Rakhim said, “but it would not be mercy. I have a truly repentant heart.”
“Liar,” Isaru growled, drawing his sword.
Rakhim quailed at the sight, lowering his head.
“You have one more chance to speak and explain yourself,” I said. “I am your judge, jury, and executioner.”
And so, Rakhim spoke. “To give a full account of myself, I would have to return to my boyhood, but I doubt you have the time or patience for that.”
“If we were to listen to all of that,” Isaru said, “we would be trapped in here until the end of time.”
“Is he playing tricks with time in here?” I asked.
Rakhim shook his head vehemently, and even Isaru acknowledged this as truth. “He hasn’t done so. At least, I haven’t felt it. I think so long as the tree is here, it will protect us.”
At the mention of the tree, Rakhim cast it a venomous look . . . a look that was gone almost as soon as he made it. So fast was this flash of expression, I almost doubted whether I saw it at all.
“Speak,” I said. “You can talk about your past so far as it relates to your crimes today, and your motivations, but we don’t have a lot of time, and more than that, the patience. If you think you’ll win our sympathy with sad stories, you’re gravely mistaken. If I ever think you’re starting to do this, your judgment will be over. Is that understood?”
Rakhim nodded quickly, reminding me of a dog who had somehow displeased his master.
He licked his lips and began.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“LONG AGO, I WAS CALLED Lord Rakhim Shal of the Northern Vale. My house was an old, though not wealthy one. My father was bad with money, and when he lost it all, he was forced to sell his son . . . to sell me . . . as a lordling thrall to the crown of Hyperborea, which in those days was the House of Farl. It was the highest honor I could hope for, for my house soon passed away into the dustbin of history and memory, and I became the last of my house, cursed to have no sons that would carry the name of Shal.”
As Rakhim recounted his story, his eyes became focused, and his countenance no longer fearful. I raised my guard, wary of any trick.
“Since I could win no renown through deeds to the benefit of my house, I saw that I must dedicate myself to my masters, to which I was no more than a slave. It wasn’t a slavery in the sort you might imagine, such is as found in lands of Colonia or Nova. I was fed well, as well as any lord, and had all the education I desired. But all the same, my will was not my own. It is the human will to be free, as you probably know. Even a cage the size of a world will still feel small, if a man knows it’s a cage.
“I saw that my only hope of salvation was to dedicate myself fully to the betterment of House Farl, and for all of my years in the waking world . . . that was my aim. For those were the latter days of Hyperborea, the Twilight, from which there would be no dawn. We did not know that then, but all the same, the unseen prospect haunted us all.
“It was about this time that it became known that the Sea of Creation could not regenerate itself quickly enough to feed Hyperborea’s expanding reach. Night and day, without abatement, it sucked the Sea ever drier, always filling its seven beautiful lakes, along with its springs and canals that fed the crops and trees to produce a harvest undreamed of in other lands.
“It was known among Hyperborea’s elite that this could not go on forever, though that knowledge was hidden from the population at large. But to even slacken our use of the Sea a little would mean the downfall of the empire. And in those days, Hyperborea’s reach was far, and the peoples it ruled over would rebel as soon as its armies were withdrawn. Stopping use of the Sea long enough for it to regenerate would take decades, and in that time, the line of Farl would fail.
“Of course, such an outcome was unthinkable. Power, once gained, will not be given up . . . not even for the Xenofold. Such is human nature.
“Though the scientists and sages and Seekers of Hyperborea saw the inevitable end, an alternative solution to the problem was sought after. And in that solution, I found my salvation.”
Here, Shal looked at the both of us to see if we had gotten the point. I simply waited, gesturing for him to continue.
“I saw that the man who could come up with the solution to the emptying of the Sea would be the most powerful man in the world. And so, I began my experimentation. For long years, I labored after proposing my plan of using the Sea of Destruction, the opposite Sea which was previously thought unusable, as a source of energy for our city. For in all the years of the Sea of Destruction’s existence, none could find a way to use black ichor, and it was believed to not have any use.
“Even as I labored deep in Hyperborea’s laboratories, wars began to wreak our nation . . . wars with the Eastern Kingdoms, who had been enlightened with our technologies, war with the rising Novan Empire to the south, and last of all, wars with the Shen in the east, who were newly colonizing our western shores. With the advent of the wars, the Sea was drained ever more quickly. Pressure to find a solution was at a height. I was coming to be seen as a charlatan full of empty promises and was treated most vilely.
“At last, though, I had a working prototype, though the answer to the riddle, I knew, would not be palatable to the city’s populace. Black ichor, I found, could only be used by one who was not connected to the Xenofold at all, or at least, a Xenofold not under the dominion of the Elekai. But no alternative Xenofold existed.”
“That’s when you created the Hyperfold,” I said.
Rakhim nodded. “Yes. You begin to see. A Xenofold cannot exist without the memories of the dead to foster it, as kindling is needed to build even the mightiest flame. When I shared my findings with the monarchs, they did not like it. The king was against it, but the queen overruled him, over whom I had much influence. Only she could see that my creation was the way forward in powering the future glory of the city, though none of us yet knew the full price.
“With her approval, we were given one hundred captives . . . all Elekai . . . to sacrifice to the Sea of Destruction in the name of Odium of the Dark. A pact was made. I would serve Odium and would administer his Xenofold on earth until the day of his coming. In return, I would have eternal life, a place at his side, and power untold. And the city of Hyperborea could freely draw on the Sea of Destruction and turn back its foes.”
“And everyone seemed to win . . . for a time.”
“Except for those who were sacrificed,” Isaru said. “It didn’t end there, did it?”
Rakhim didn’t answer; not at first. “It was . . . done. Never did this get revealed to anyone, not to Mia, not to Prince Isandru. Only myself and the king and queen knew, not to mention the captives. We were on our last legs at that point. It was believed that one hundred lives could save the many, and one hundred lives was but a small skirmish in those days . . . or so it was reasoned to hide the true evil of what we were doing.
“But our aim was achieved. The Hyperfold was breathed into life.” Here, Rakhim paused. “And the Hyperfold was very hungry. More were fed to the Black Sea. The Thought Dome was hastily assembled as a shield, both to protect the Hyperfold’s Point of Origin, and to the keep the captives trapped inside. Elekai prisoners of war were used to feed the flames, until well over a thousand had passed into the shining light. And with each death, it became stronger. Ever hungrier. Even the queen quailed at the amount of death, but only I could steady her resolve. Just a few more, I would whisper. Soon, they stopped protesting. Aether has many curious properties, one of which is to become more compliant. Soon, I found a way even to manufacture a cruder version of the stuff directly from ichor, which opened its abilities to
the populace of the city at large.
“But I digress. At last, after close to five thousand souls had been fed to the Hyperfold . . . its flame could at last burn on its own.”
I had no doubt that what he was saying was true. It made me sick to my stomach.
Rakhim continued. “Deemed a success, Hyperborea saw the results immediately. Usage of the Sea of Creation dropped as many switched to the alternative. They gained powers untold, and such powers encouraged many others to abandon the Xenofold for the monstrosity I’d created. Faded Elekai saw the Hyperfold as their solution, a way for them to become fully-fledged Elekai with access to their natural Gifts. For the first time in my life, I knew the taste of being a hero.” Rakhim smiled bitterly. “But by this point, the damage was done, and I became aware of my own dark motivations. I was deceiving them all. I hated them all. I hated the ones who imprisoned me, my father for the lechery and greed that ruined our house, hated all the ones who mocked me for my servitude. Yes, even your dear Prince Isandru and Princess Mia. When they were young, those brats’ mockery stung the worst of all, and I never forgot it, even in my old age.
“Though no one knew it yet, I was the most powerful man in Hyperborea. I had deceived an entire city to my gain, a city who had done nothing but use me. And now, in their time of need, they wanted me to save them from their folly.”
Rakhim smiled bitterly here. “And I happily obliged. For I desired nothing more than the destruction of the city I despised. For long years after the city’s death, its ghostly ruins gave me nothing but utmost satisfaction. Its hubris, its pride, its lust for power. I fostered all of these in the minds of those in power, leading them ever onward toward their doom. Dark whispers I would hear in the Hyperfold from my master, Odium, the only one who seemed to understand my pain.”
Here, Rakhim became silent, his countenance grieved. “Back then, his words were my only hope. Dreams of power, of righteousness, were placed in my mind. Wanting these things above all else, all was fair and just . . . even the death of the innocents who fed the abomination I created.
“For its lust for souls never ceased, and it can be said that when the Shen Empire marched into Hyperborea for the first time, there was not a soul to greet it. For it was the Hyperfold that undid the city, and not the Shen, as is commonly believed. Anyone who touched the Hyperfold, willingly or by force, became a prisoner of it. Even Mia Farl, who wouldn’t ever touch it, was forced to in the end by her parents, and was thus poisoned. And therefore, all who enter here are doomed to be its slave. Yes, even me.”
Rakhim waited for us to respond. When we didn’t, he continued.
“Even Alex,” he said. “He destroyed nearly everything here, freeing most of the souls in the process, using his own power to bear them to the Xenofold and augment its ailing strength. Such is the reason for the Hyperfold’s current lack of power . . . and of course, my lack. The wound his sacrifice gave him was grievous. But he couldn’t wrest all the souls from here before I managed to drive him out. Though now I’ve long realized the error of my ways, and have seen the way Odium has used my past to deceive me to his unwholesome ends, back then I thought I was fighting a righteous battle. For my battle with the former Elekim took many years, and I have waited for many years in this wasteland for your return. Such is the way this place works; as my hold on it has weakened, time has become wild and uncontrolled. At times, I believed I would never see anyone ever again. Suffice it to say . . . I’ve had a very long time to think.
“But even if I was able to defeat the mighty former Elekim, I am now at the end of my strength. I know I am not able to better you.” Rakhim bowed his head low. “It is my hope . . . my vain hope, perhaps . . . that you will spare me and not strike me down. I have committed many sins, perhaps more than any other man who has ever lived. From my childhood, mine has been a bitter life of no respite, and all my attempts to do good were thwarted by powers beyond my reckoning.
“Hearing this, I hope you’ll agree, and consider it as you judge my case.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
I WASN’T SURE WHAT TO say, though my heart told me that the greater part of his tale was true. The fact that it was the Hyperfold that killed the city ultimately and not the armies of Shen came as a surprise, if not a shock. All I could think about was the countless innocents who had been sacrificed to the Hyperfold. It comforted me that Alex was able to save most of them, before his end, though the fact that the Hyperfold still existed told me that there were many yet to save.
“It changes nothing,” Isaru said. “You have had an unfortunate life, and it’s true that a child who faces cruelty in the end can become cruel himself. But there is always a choice, and you have chosen poorly. You have been shown mercy before in your life, though you don’t speak of it, and that mercy didn’t inspire you to do good, as it would have many others. Why would our mercy do the same thing now?”
“So, you would end him here?” I asked.
Isaru nodded. “I have known his mind better than any other, besides maybe Odium, who knows him in full. There is little if any goodness in his heart. Who knows where the lies begin or end? He has given us no reason to believe him, and I don’t believe he can see the error of his ways in the short time between his killing of Alex and our arrival.”
“In that time,” Rakhim reminded him, “though it may seem short to you, I have wasted many years here, thinking on my past crimes.”
“Maybe so,” Isaru said. “Then again, maybe not. We would have no way of knowing.”
I thought for a moment, but only for a moment. I had come to a decision.
“There is only one way you can redeem yourself,” I said. “And I think you might be able to guess what that is.”
Rakhim looked at me questioningly, but his face seemed guarded and suspicious.
“End it,” I said. “As its creator, you have the power to destroy the Hyperfold.”
“I’m bound to this place,” Rakhim said. “If it ends . . . then so do I.”
“That would be a great justice,” Isaru said. “If you truly recognize your evil and repent of it, then you would do anything to see it through. Even your own death.”
Rakhim chuckled bitterly. “That’s what it’ll be, then. Even after all I have said, nothing would please you more than my death?” He stood now on legs stronger than they had seemed before. Instinctively, I reached for the hilt of my blade. “I could be a great aid to you. Take me with you, out of this place, and let it burn to ash. Give me life outside of here. As Elekim, it is within your power. If my heart is pure, then the Xenofold will accept me. If not, it will reject me. Let that be my test, but do not give me my death. Not when I still have so much left to offer.”
Could I really do that? Somehow, searching my heart, I knew that I had that power, as fathomless as it seemed. Elekim, after all, could grant any person a connection to the Xenofold, perhaps even Rakhim Shal.
“Not until the Hyperfold is dead,” I said. “You’re asking me to trust you when there is no place for trust. If you destroy this place fully, until not even a spark is left, and let free all the souls you have ensnared, then I will release you too, provided you are the last soul.”
Rakhim’s face remained neutral, and again, his mind was clouded. He hid his intent from me. “I cannot trust you. So easily you could let me slip into the darkness, aimless and accursed, in the bridge between worlds.”
“Those who are trustless find it difficult to trust,” Isaru said.
“The same might be said for you,” Rakhim said.
“The burden of proof is upon you,” Isaru said. “Not us. Take what is offered . . . it is the only way.”
Rakhim’s neutral mask fell away, and he was grieved.
“Trust, they say,” he said, raving like a madman. “Why trust anyone when all that has gotten me is bitterness and sorrow?”
“Rakhim,” I said. “I stand by my word. So long as you give every soul back to the Xenofold, saving yours for last, there will be a place
for you, and redemption. Yes, you have to trust me.”
“Why not strike me down here, then?” Rakhim said. “Why take the risk?”
“In the off chance you aren’t lying to me. Maybe you truly do want redemption. Perhaps you really have thought for long years in between driving Alex out of here and my arrival. I don’t believe that for a second, but if you do as I ask, then I will believe you. And if I kill you now and end the Hyperfold in that way, then those souls that are still here are lost forever to the darkness, just as you would be.” I looked at him closely. “How many are left?”
Rakhim gave a small smile, that was erased as soon as it was formed. “Exactly one hundred . . . the amount that is needed to maintain the spark without it collapsing upon itself.”
“And I suppose Mia and Isandru are among them.”
Rakhim nodded. “Those who were closest to me, who I couldn’t do without.”
“Couldn’t do without torturing and gloating over, I imagine,” Isaru said.
To this, Rakhim had no response. He waited for me and my decision.
“I’ve told you my terms, and they haven’t changed,” I said.
Rakhim nodded. His face was pale, and after a long moment, he looked up from the ground. “Then I accept these terms.”
“Then show me where you keep these people,” I said. “And let’s free them, one by one. Send them to the tree.”
Rakhim went quiet, and stood there so long, grieved, that I thought he was about to take back his words.
But then, he raised his hand, and an ethereal door appeared, out of which walked a man, dazed, who I didn’t recognize.
* * *
The man was tall, good-looking, and wore a rich robe that seemed to belong to a place and time long ago. He stared confusedly at us, and then in fear at Rakhim. It was as if he was wondering what new torture this was.