by P D Ceanneir
‘The details on how the war started are a little sketchy, most say it was political, and others say it was a rebel uprising against the Bergelonian Monarchs of the time. No one is sure, but what we do know is that the Elementals were ousted and hunted down.’
‘Who were the Elementals?’ Telmar asked.
‘Elementals were true Rawns who became trapped within one single element. Oh, they still had the use of the other three elements, but only in a diminished capacity. Their use of their one element, however, was astonishing. You see, their ability was unlimited and unmatched, and far more powerful that any Ri, this is why they became a threat to the Eldi.
‘We are not quite clear on how the Elementals came about, but we have learnt about the names given to them.
‘Those who were adept at using the Earth Element were called Terraseers, because they had the ability to see the future with their link to the Earth Mother. Next, we have the Immortal Waternymphs and then the enigmatic Stormwraiths that were spirit one minute, then flesh and bone the next. However, it is the vast energy produced by the Firesprites that drew our attention to you, Telmar.’
Telmar was instantly alert and stared hard at Cinnibar. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Vanduke told me about your little “episode” at the mill in Aln-Tiss all those years ago.’
Telmar clenched his fists. ‘He had no right to!’
‘Do not be hard on him. He was concerned about you, and managed to convince Joaquin Ri to stop young Cormack’s threat against you.’
Telmar was pacing the room, brow furrowed. Every time he approached the countess, she backed away.
‘Be calm, Telmar,’ she pleaded.
‘I am calm,’ it was almost a shout.
‘Do not allow your emotions to fester. Lest the energy produced will kill us all.’
He stopped pacing and looked at her. ‘What do you know about it?’ he said accusingly. ‘You don’t have to live with the threat of causing widespread destruction.’
‘I know. Vanduke described the fire at the mill. He could not believe an apprentice could wreak such chaos, and when he told me, I knew we had found the rarest of all the Elementals.’
‘A Firesprite!’ scoffed Telmar. ‘No, I’m something more than that. They called it the Rage in the past, but I have found another name for my affliction.’
‘Pyromancer,’ said Cinnibar.
Telmar’s jaw fell open. He felt as if the countess had just slapped him in the face. ‘He told you?’
Cinnibar nodded. ‘A Pyromancer was also the secret name of the Firesprites,’ she said. She took his hand and held it to her chest. ‘I can help you, Telmar, whatever the problem is, the Brethac Ziggurat can help. But you need to help us.’
‘How can I? By unlocking the code in the Grymwards? Maybe there are some secrets that must not be revealed.’
‘No, not just that, there was one thing that Pyromancers could do that the other Elementals could not.’
‘What was that?’
Cinnibar smiled, ‘they could talk to gods.’
The Domain
OK A DARK GOD
“Round and round the dark path turns
Skip and jump to the edge they run
Down and down the abyss they fall
Scream and shout at the fire that burns
Oh, the Dark One, must have his fun”
Old Nursery Rhyme
1
A soft nimbus of yellow light from the single candle gently pushed away the darkness as they ascended the staircase. Cinnibar led with the candle, Telmar following silently behind. The countess spoke quietly with a notable tone of reverence.
‘The only people allowed to talk to the Old Gods were the Eldi. They were the spiritual advisors of their people as well as powerful magnates. But when the Elementals rose to power themselves the Eldi saw them as a threat and claimed them to be “Undesirables”, a form of proscription, making them political and spiritual outlaws.’ They both reached the top of the stairs and she pushed open the door at the top. They entered her personal apartments. A grand four-post bed sat in the centre of the room. She lit the many candles with the Arts and a wave of her hand as she continued the tale.
‘So when the Eldi turned their backs on the Elementals, the newly denounced undesirables looked for their own way to talk to the My’thos, but who they found was far more powerful, older and brimming with knowledge.’
‘Who?’ Telmar asked, as far as he knew only four of the My’thos were known to his people.
‘He had many names, Thaal, the Lost or Lonely God, the Shackled One, Abaddon and Apollyon the Abandoned.’ She crossed the room to a set of high double doors and pushed them open. Inside, the room was empty apart from a central altar table of white marble. Sitting on the table was a large brass cup covered in a raised relief of Skrol banding. Inside the cup was the largest Orrinn Telmar had ever seen.
‘We call this the Cloud Orrinn,’ said Cinnibar. ‘It was found by a Falesti lord in an unused well many years ago. He gifted it to the Order after a string of bad luck, blaming the Orrinn itself for his ill fortune. His loss is our gain. It was believed that the Elementals used Orrinns to communicate with this Lonely God.’
She stood before the cup. The top of the Orrinn stopped at chest height, it had a bulbous lower half then it tapered slightly at the top, but it was more or less round like most Orrinns. Its surface swirled into a shifting pattern of blue and white, like clouds lazily drifting across summer skies. The countess brushed her fingers lightly across the top and Telmar was surprised to see the colours move under her touch and follow her fingers as she brushed the surface. Orrinns were basically books made of stone created by the My’thos gods of the past. The came in all shapes, sizes and colours, but he had never seen one like this before.
‘So can you communicate to this god through this Orrinn, then?’ Telmar asked her.
Cinnibar shook her head. ‘Unfortunately I have not the energy to create a strong enough link to Him. You, being a Pyromancer, shall be more successful.’
Telmar frowned, ‘I wouldn’t even know where to begin’
The countess reached out to him, ‘give me your hand.’
Telmar hesitated and she noticed. Smiling gently she said, ‘some of the knowledge the god has is already recorded in our library anyway, if you don’t wish to speak to him direct, then I can get you clearance to read what we have so far. It’s alright to be afraid.’
‘I’m not afraid.’
Cinnibar’s smile did not fade.
Telmar felt like a naughty child under her motherly grin. She had a look that could see his every thought. He felt his legs move and then he was beside her. She took his hand and placed it on top of the Orrinn. It was cold to the touch, but there was a slight vibration from its surface. He had never felt an Orrinn do that before, and he wondered if this was an actual Orrinn.
‘What happens now?’ he asked her.
‘You have questions. He can answer them for you,’ she said in reply, but her voice was faint and she was receding from him as if falling away down a dark tunnel, and then he realised that he was the one falling away into darkness. He tried to lift his hand from the surface of the Orrinn but could not feel his body any more.
Dream Transference Projection? He thought to himself. He felt his essence leave his mortal body.
If he had a heart, it would be racing. If he had a mouth, he would scream.
Instead, he fell into the unknown.
2
Darkness gave way to light. A blinding flash of colours generated a suffused real and unreal illusion of the world. At least that is what his instinct told him. It was tangible, and yet dreamlike at the same time. It was as if his mind was adjusting his perception of the images he saw.
His sense of time altered also, he could have been floating amongst the motes of swirling colours for hours or days, yet he was not sure. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was transported to a huge glassed dome structure of such alien design th
at the edges of his vision wavered and reformed with a wonderful mixture of indistinct clarity.
Outside the edges of the glass walls, humanoid shapes danced. Each was similar, yet different; each had eyes of blazing fire and long solemn faces. They all stared at the dark form in the centre of the dome, sitting on a large stone chair.
Telmar approached the form, which sat still, curled into a huge sphere of blackness, dormant. Its black slick surface reflected back the burning eyes of the things in the walls. He had the impression that the shapes beyond the glass had forced it to sleep so they could break through, unhindered. Cracks were already appearing along the walls as he walked the short distance towards the black thing.
The shapes with the burning eyes moved franticly as he reached out his hand.
He knew they were warning him, but he did not care. As soon as he touched the blackness, a burst of Pyromantic energy from his fingers filled the room in a white glow and lifted him off his feet. He fell again, through the swirling colours; it seemed he fell for a mere second and then drifted for an eternity.
Then the next thing he hit was gravity.
It was almost a shock to feel the effect of falling faster that, for an instant, he believed he had actually fallen off the countess’s balcony. Instead, he was falling through a thin web of mist and far below him loomed large floating continents covered in forests and exotic alien plants. There were literally hundreds of these huge islands drifted by, floating in thin air. Most crashed into each other to make a sharp grinding noise that echoed off the vast walls of the neighbouring landmasses.
His drop through the sky was heart stopping. Wind and moisture rushed past his ears as he plummeted. He was merely a small form dwarfed by the many large plant-covered rocks of the continents he plummeted towards. He looked up and was perplexed to see the sky was bright orange with rivers of red running through it. This world was so alien and frightening, yet wonderful and dynamic at the same time.
Then, the next thing he hit was the ground.
3
Telmar’s eyes fluttered open.
He lay on the ground surrounded by large blue ferns. The orange sky began filtering through thick beamed trees that were so tall they would dwarf the largest the Eternal Forest could offer. Their large leaves were as wide as a man was long and they were tinged yellow with their curved edges a light green. Each had thick veins as crimson as spilt blood. To his left sat a cluster of green toadstools as tall as he was. They shifted in a breeze he could not feel and their domed surface shone like slick silver. With each shimmer of breeze the plant issued a light high-pitched sigh like the sound of tinkling ice crystals.
Telmar blinked at the strange alien landscape around him. He suddenly realised he could see his body as he raised his hands to his face. He checked himself all over and determined that nothing was broken. In fact, he felt absolutely fine, and bursting with energy.
He stood and wandered through the bushes. Everything was still. No breeze washed over the plants and any shift in pressure obviously came from a passing landmass as it slipped by with inches to spare. He pulled himself free of the clinging blue ferns and climbed onto a boulder to get his bearings.
Mountains misted away into the distance of this particular continent he stood upon. Forests stretched for miles behind him and the only clear area was to his front. It was an open glade of short, shifting yellow grass. Each stalk had a seed head of tiny lime green balls that burst open to emit white spores. No wind blew them, but they all moved of their own accord, collecting into a thick stream, and then disappearing through the trees to Telmar’s right. He noticed that each continent had a long white arm of these spores linking one to the other, an ecology all of its own.
He was about to step off the boulder when he noticed its surface. It was dark brown with flecks of gold, and with silver veins running through it.
‘Glemmarstone,’ he said aloud to himself. He realised that the whole landmass he stood on was entirely made of this rare substance. ‘Where on Earth am I?’
‘Not on Earth, but in it,’ said a male voice to his left. Telmar flinched and spun around. With no weapon available, he produced a large ball of flame in each hand while crouching, ready to jump for cover behind the boulder. He was amazed at how strong the Rawn Arts was in this strange place.
The man who spoke stepped out of the trees and approached him. Telmar saw he was not human. He was as tall as he was and well-proportioned with a broad chest and muscled arms and legs. He was hairless and naked, though he hardly noticed this because the man had no genital to speak of, nor bellybutton or nipples. He was also blue-skinned with a relatively handsome face and bright white glowing eyes under a hooded brow.
‘Do not be afraid,’ said the man in a deep intelligent voice.
Telmar still crouched, but extinguished the use of the arts and the flames fizzled out. He rested his elbows on his knees, yet stayed on the boulder so he could look down at this strange being.
‘Should I be scared?’ he asked.
The man smiled, though it seemed a genuine enough act, his face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. ‘My name is Cronos. I am the Sentinel of the Nexus,’ he said.
‘What is the Nexus?’ asked Telmar.
Cronos spread his arms. ‘This place is the Nexus. It is an energy bubble inside the centre of the Earth’s molten core.’
Telmar looked up. True enough, there was a slight curvature to the sky. In addition, flashes of energy and forks of red lightning crackled over its face a substantial distance below. He now realised that the orange of the sky was actually molten rock held back by some form of protective bubble, a bubble so immense that it could swallow a planet.
‘Amazing,’ he said.
‘This place was once a refuge created by the My’thos during the time of the Great Cataclysm and it has since been left to evolve on its own,’ explained Cronos as he walked closer. ‘The Earth Shepherds’ war with the Dark Force of the Earth would eventually destroy most of the planet’s surface, so they “Grew” this place to re-seed the destroyed continents when the war ended. Unfortunately, the My’thos were so diminished after their victory that they did not have the power to fulfil their plan. Fortunately, nature found a way to rebuild all on its own’
Telmar looked back down at the blue-skinned creature and watched as he walked closer to his position. He noticed that Cronos did not move around the plant that were in his way, but through them and the plants did not move. Telmar could also see through his body.
‘Are you the Lonely God?’ he asked him.
Cronos chuckled. ‘We are all lonely here,’ he answered. ‘No, I’m not a god, but the god did send me to find you.
‘Where is he?’
‘I will…’ Cronos vanished and then instantly reappeared beside Telmar on the boulder. He placed his hand on the baron’s shoulder and finished the sentence, ‘…take you to him.’
Telmar felt the world around him blur and distort. Shapes and colours blended in a smear across his vision. He had a feeling of giddiness and his stomach flipped. He wondered if he was going to be sick, then instinct told him he was not in his physical body and he was merely a projection of his own conscious thought. Therefore, he had no stomach to vacate.
Could this be Trans Migratory Meditation or a form of Dream Thought Transference? He thought to himself. Is this what it is like to Driftwalk?
The world re-formed into focus and he was standing on a huge slab of Glemmarstone which was free of plant life, at the centre of which was a circle of monoliths. They were twelve tall stones that curved into the middle like a gnarled clawed hand. They seemed to be containing something within the circle, a darkness that ebbed and flowed into a black pulsating sphere only a few feet across. Telmar recognised it as being similar to the dark ball he had seen in the glass dome, only smaller.
‘Behold,’ said Cronos pointing to the circle, ‘the Lonely God.’
‘What is his name,’ Telmar asked Cronos.
I have many na
mes, said a deep voice from the sphere. The surface rippled when it spoke.
‘I am Telmar, Baron of Tressel.’
I know who you are, Pyromancer. The voice sounded stricken and far away, as if it was talking through a throat clogged with phlegm.
‘Why am I a Pyromancer?’ Telmar asked it.
Ask the Earth Shepherds. You are part of their plan to destroy me. They sought to create my ultimate foe, but they have failed. I exist outside my prison.
Telmar frowned. The god was not making much sense, but then the image of the other, larger, black sphere inside the glass dome came back to him and everything fell into place. It was as if he had some startling revelation, and he suddenly felt afraid.
‘You are trapped,’ reasoned Telmar, ‘but you are also here. Are you trapped here?’
No, here I am free.
‘I saw you in another vision, also trapped. Contained by the Earth Shepherds, I presume. You are the Dark Force of the Earth, aren’t you?’
Correct, but not all of me is so incarcerated. Soon I will collect enough of my Anchors to become powerful enough to leave the Nexus.
‘Anchors?’
My component parts, the negative energy that makes up my life-force matrix.
Telmar nodded. ‘So you are the One God that the Elementals and the Brethac Ziggurat worship,’ he said offhand.
Ah, I wondered when they would send a Herald to me, said the pulsing black sphere.
‘I am nobody’s Herald!’ said Telmar a little too loudly.
Of course you are. You will relay my message to my flock and prepare for a new dawn.
‘What new dawn?’
I offer a life under my sway, glorious riches to my followers and eternal power to those closest to me. I ask them to make a path for my coming, to build armies and conquer the planet. They must find the Gredligg Orrinn and destroy it. However, most of all, they must eliminate my nemesis.
Telmar listened and wondered at the entity’s sanity, ‘What nemesis?’
THE BLACKSWORD! It roared. The sound ricocheted and echoed off the passing islands that floated just feet away from the edge of the rock they stood on.