‘Look at them!’ said Tuan, indicating their amulets. ‘The stone’s inner light grows in harmony with the boys’ progression. If he is not aware of his place in our world… he will be, soon enough. The item you grotesquely describe as “hanging from your neck” was your betrayer.’
‘It guided us to him,’ Lothian added, feeling the need to maintain decorum. ‘The precious stone will become more vibrant—more intense—until it has reached the peak of its power.’
‘How long?’ asked Oran, growing increasingly agitated.
‘When he comes of age,’ prompted Greer. ‘But you already know that.’
Ignoring the remark, Oran rubbed his hand over his jaw, unable to recall his son’s age. It seemed his detached, quiet life had failed to remind him.
‘We have three years,’ his peer stated.
Oran turned quickly, smiling at Greer. ‘Then this will give us sufficient time to prepare,’ he assumed, feeling his mood lift. He nodded to himself. ‘Aye, and it will please my wife to know she’ll have her son for a while yet. And by then, we’ll be ready to—’ He stopped, catching his peers as they eyed one another in awkward silence.
Oran narrowed his hazel eyes, with an inkling. ‘Something you wish to share, my Lords?’
‘Unfortunately, a difficult situation has presented itself,’ Lothian informed him.
Oran leaned forward, waiting patiently for him to continue.
‘Even if your son was here, in Elboru, at this very moment, we could not prepare him.’
Oran drew back his head, frowning. ‘And why?’
‘As you know, the Elliyan is made up of Five,’ Tuan reminded him. ‘Each of which possess an amulet. However, one is missing and, without it, your son will not wear the Shenn. It is imperative, we have all five.
Chapter Seventeen
‘All five!’ Oran echoed, taken back by the unexpected revelation.
More was yet to come.
‘Since the demise of its owner,’ continued Tuan, ‘the fifth amulet has… gone astray. We believe it to be in the hands of another.’
‘Another? Who?’ Oran promptly enquired—the feeling of unease creeping into his consciousness. It did not go un-noticed, his sudden eagerness arousing Greer’s suspicions.
‘We do not know,’ added Lothian. ‘We suspect it is still somewhere within the Realm of Ockram.’
‘The birthplace of the late Magus?’ said Oran.
Lothian nodded.
‘Where he continued to rule during his life, while supported by the Elliyan.’
‘Until his death,’ Oran stated.
‘Precisely. We suspect, whoever possesses the amulet now, had knowledge of these facts. They may assume the new Overlord will reawaken from the ashes of his predecessor—in the same place. There have been unsettling signs in Ockram… according to our sources.’
‘The Servitor, no doubt,’ Oran muttered.
‘Do not underestimate them, Lord Oran!’
The High Warlock turned sharply at Tuan’s retaliation, prepared for another assault.
‘They are discreet and trustworthy—more than you know.’
Lothian—the constant mediator between the two—stepped in again, encouraging calm. However, it was proving difficult. ‘There is no time for pettiness, my Lords. Whatever your differences, they must be placed aside—better still—laid to rest. The fifth must be located. We have the advantage over its bearer, in that, they clearly are not aware of the process involved, nor the whereabouts of the boy.’
‘Yet,’ Greer stated, in his gruff voice.
Oran turned and scowled at him.
‘The amulet’s power is gradually increasing,’ Greer went on. ‘It will take momentum nearer the time, eventually guiding its present holder to Urquille.’
‘Here, you say?!’
Oran’s shocked outburst came as no surprise to Greer, who, perceiving there was something his fellow Warlock was keeping from them, pressed on, suspicious. ‘This is where your son was born, Lord Oran. And here, is where he will rule, with the Elliyan by his side. It is where the Shenn—the Sixth—waits for him.’
Oran turned his back on the three, his mind racing as segments of his past plagued his thoughts. Is it possible? he asked himself, staring down the length of the Great Hall. In the distance, he observed a small figure pass discreetly through its wide passage. He listened until their light footsteps faded, before turning to address his peers.
‘What will happen if we don’t find the missing amulet?’
‘Its present owner will eventually discover the true value of its power—linking it to Shenn,’ said Greer. ‘Should time pass, and the amulet is not re-united with its rightful owner—your son—then it is there for the taking, be they man… or immortal.’
‘However,’ said Tuan, feeling the need to take charge of the conversation again, ‘Magia
Nera has been long dead, which makes our task difficult. Also, the amulets we wear cannot be easily taken from us.’
‘Therefore,’ added Greer, ‘we are to assume he may have given it to another, before his demise… unless…
On hearing his old rival’s name, Oran looked sharp, meeting Greer’s discerning look. The High Warlock’s gift of insight was at work—clearly visible in the flickering movement of his piercing, blue eyes. Oran glanced away, avoiding his scrutiny.
‘I believe there is something you wish to share with us, Lord Oran?’ Greer remarked, peering at him.
Tuan and Lothian observed the tension between the younger, High Warlocks, their intense regard of one other, concerning Lothian.
‘Lord Oran?’ he asked, breaking the anticipation between them.
Oran inhaled deeply, as the mounting pressure emanating from Greer’s stare, finally forced his hand. Feeling defeated by it, he sighed heavily before making his confession.
‘Magia Nera’—he paused, closing his eyes— ‘is not dead.’
The unexpected admission altered the atmosphere in the Great Hall, to that of astonishment.
Oran lowered his head. A strange sense of relief fell from his shoulders as Lothian moved to his side. ‘Not dead?!’ he said, his eyes wild with amazement.
‘Impossible!’ cried Tuan, refusing to accept the revelation. ‘We saw him—’
‘As did I—Lord Tuan,’ said Oran, cutting in. ‘But I assure you, Magia Nera lives, and what is more… he has been cursed—damned to eternal life.’
‘Is this true?’ Lothian persisted.
‘As true as you are standing beside me. I saw him—spoke to him.’
‘When?’
Oran paused, reliving the regretful moment. ‘Eighty years ago, perhaps,’ he surmised.
‘There was no mistaking his new identity. We have Tepés to thank for his survival.’
‘The Vamp—’
‘Yes,’ came the firm, short reply.
‘But Vlad Tepés is dead!’ Tuan stated, before turning to confront Greer. ‘Did you not see to it?’
‘Without doubt, my Lord,’ Greer replied. ‘His corpse lies where we left it—in Snagov—with a stake through his heart.’
Tuan moved closer to the High Warlock, taking him in. But when Greer subconsciously diverted his eyes, for an instant, it was enough for the Great Warlock to doubt him, forcing him to question him further.
‘But did you finish the task?’ Tuan persisted.
Greer remained silent, his eyes dancing as he recalled the events in his mind.
He had struck down the tyrant, himself, with the aid of their skilled mercenaries—the Bullwark—then threw his corpse into a crypt—beneath the altar of a small chapel, before driving a stake through his heart. He suddenly sensed the rising frustration of the Great Warlock standing before him. But Tuan already knew the answer.
‘You did not remove his head!’ he yelled. ‘How could you be so—’
‘Where Lord Greer failed,’ interrupted Oran, ‘another reigned victory over Tepés.’
Tuan spun round, outraged by what he had j
ust heard. He approached Oran with indignation. ‘How is this possible?’ he voiced. ‘Who was the victor?’
As Oran held his superior’s gaze, the answer was clear from his ominous expression.
‘No!’ said Tuan, with a look of genuine astonishment.
The three Warlocks stared, in disbelief, at Oran’s silent revelation. The High Warlock then proceeded, by divulging the events that brought about the demise of Vlad Tepés, by the hand of Magia Nera, explaining how their paths had crossed, and how he came to be.
‘I perceive Tepés knew his end would eventually come,’ added Oran. ‘And, not wanting his legacy to die with him, he made certain of its longevity, by extending his band of loyal followers, including Magia Nera—and initiating them into his dark world of immortality.’
‘Then Magia Nera’s powers will be greater,’ Lothian remarked, staring into the darkness of the Hall of Eminence, as though expecting the absent Warlock to appear from the shadows, brandishing the much-needed amulet around his neck.
‘Indeed,’ Oran responded. ‘And I have seen their influence. Yet, as great as they are, his only solace is the night. Daylight is his enemy.’
‘Then it is possible he may not be working alone,’ said Tuan.
‘But why Ockram?’ Lothian mused over the unthinkable. ‘Why go there? He is aware of our protocol. If Magia Nera wears his amulet, surely, it would lead him here. Is that not so?’
Oran grit his teeth, still feeling the weight of Greer’s persistent stare.
‘Magia Nera is not present’—Greer stated, approaching Oran— ‘for another wears his amulet. And, it is my understanding, our absent friend knows who. Would you agree, Lord Oran?’
Oran kept his eyes diverted, choosing to retain his silence from any suggestion.
‘And it is my understanding,’ Tuan added, ‘that you, also, know the bearer’s identity. It appears you have aroused further suspicion, Lord Oran. I suggest you—’ He stopped, and tilted his head, listening. Exchanging glances with Lothian, the Great Warlocks promptly turned their backs on Greer and Oran, their attention now drawn and focused on the centre of the Great Hall. Tuan slowly raised his hand in a welcoming gesture, extending it towards a dimly lit, empty space.
Oran breathed a subtle sigh of relief, thankful for the distraction. He looked at Greer, who followed the elders with spirit of enquiry as they approached the central point.
The Hall took on an unfamiliar ambience, its aura displayed in a haze of azure, capturing the inquisitiveness of the younger Warlocks.
They moved closer.
‘Stay where you are!’ said Tuan, his command precise and insistent. ‘He is coming!’
Oran opened his mouth to question the order, when a tiny flicker of light came into view, hovering quietly in its palatial surroundings. Gradually, the tiny light began to grow, expanding and manifesting itself into shape. The Hall jumped to life as its intense energy took precedence. Lothian and Tuan stepped back from its dominance, while the light replicated the shape of the precious stones within their amulets. Tuan drew his hand down, placing it across the nomen on his belt, promptly followed by Lothian, who did the same.
From within its centre, a shadow appeared, taking form. Increasing in size, with every given moment, it moved forward, preparing to reveal itself. Fascinated, Oran and Greer looked on, having never witnessed the event, feeling the surge of energy from its core rush through their bodies.
Gradually the form ceased to grow. Standing tall and poised within its protective light, it lingered, before materialising into the figure of a man, through a veil of golden light.
In a welcoming gesture, Lothian and Tuan bowed in his presence, as Greer and Oran gaped at his captivating appearance. The figure seemed to glide towards them in his approach, before acknowledging their welcome.
Tall in stature, he towered majestically above them. His hairless crown, drew attention to his perfectly round features. His age, they could not determine. Devoid of blemish and flaw, his skin glowed like burnt copper. But most noteworthy were his piercing, almond-shaped eyes—matching the colour of lapiz lazuli. Oran detected tiny flecks of gold each time they blinked. The figure wore a lavish, sleeveless, full-length, linen robe—its colour in contrast with his eyes. Two, pure gold rings adorned each index finger, containing the cartouche of the ruling Magus—each one bearing the nomen, “Lumeri”—the name he would take upon gaining his title.
The figure, Oran believed, epitomised perfection—save for his curiously bare feet.
‘Their nakedness is a symbol of my servitude to the Shenn, and its Master… yet I am a willing acolyte.’
The words flowed like silk in its purest form from his mouth. His voice, alluring and soft to the ear, was precise and careful in its delivery. Turning to Oran, his full, dark lips smiled in response. The High Warlock remained speechless, suspending his thoughts.
‘I am the Ushabti,’ he began formally. ‘And you are the boy’s father.’
Oran bowed low, in respect and awe of his presence, unable to look away.
‘We welcome you at this troubling time,’ Lothian interrupted, breaking Oran’s transfixed gazed. Both addressed each other with a welcoming nod. ‘The Ushabti has guarded the Shenn amulet for thousands of years,’ Lothian informed Oran, while Greer’s heightened sense was gripped with intrigue.
‘He remains in long hibernation, guarding over it, until the stone is re-awakened—on the birth of the chosen Magus,’ added Tuan. ‘He continues to protect it, until it is bestowed on its new Master. It is his duty to make certain the task is carried out in the time given to him.’
‘And should he fail?’ Oran enquired, finding his voice again.
Tuan glared at the High Warlock. ‘To fail is not an option,’ he retorted.
Oran grunted. ‘It is always an option, and one of possibility!’
‘In the event of failure…’ Lothian jumped in, ‘it will be out of the Ushabti’s control, rendering the Shenn dangerous. Should it fall into the lap of another, who is not born of a Warlock, the consequences will be catastrophic. However, it is not too late. We must find the missing amulet; it is imperative the boy is prepared in time.’
A sense of dread filled Oran, such was the emphasis of “time”. He had been detached from the Elliyan for far too long. Slowly and gradually, his past began to unravel the more sinister side of the Shenn, as the truth behind the rumours—he had once heard—became increasingly real. All the repose and decorum he had maintained, in the presence of the Ushabti, now fell by the wayside as he dared to challenge him.
‘How did he die?’ Oran asked, bluntly.
‘Lord Oran!’ Tuan blurted, raising his voice. ‘Do not address the—’
‘And the others?’ he demanded, ignoring his elder. ‘The Overlords—the Magus—gone before my son. Is it true, the Shenn destroyed them?’
The Ushabti remained calm and unruffled by Oran’s outpouring of demands, infuriating the High Warlock further.
‘Did you fail in your duty to them? Is this the same fate that awaits my son?’
The Ushabti’s eyes blinked once, causing the particles of gold to glint from the glowing light surrounding them. For a brief moment, Oran saw a faint hint of pity in them.
‘The Shenn did not destroy them, Oran of Urquille,’ he replied, his beautiful voice commanding the four Warlock’s undivided attention. They waited as he gathered his thoughts, while thousands of years of evil conflict swam through his overcrowded mind, as he recalled each outcome.
‘From the moment of its fashioning, the Shenn’s creator was overwhelmed by its potency. The universe had provided it with a power so great, it had to be mastered and respected. But through greed and obsession, he lost all control—as did those who inherited it. No, Lord Oran… the Shenn amulet did not destroy them. They destroyed themselves. Their ignorance of the greatest item they possessed, became their downfall. Your son is next in line. If he does not listen and respect its influence, he risks the same fate as his predeces
sors.’
Oran’s heart sank to depths of fear for his only son. He lowered his head, with a sense of hopelessness, overwhelmed by the enormity of the burden placed on a child, who was in complete ignorance of his future.
His child.
Conscious of his inner torment, Lothian felt the need to assure his fellow Warlock. ‘All is not lost, Lord Oran,’ he said, with compassion. ‘Your son has the ability to prove his worth as our supreme Magus. He has an added strength of priority and pride. These special qualities, married with the Ushabti’s guidance, will benefit him greatly on his journey.’
‘Is this your belief or imagining?’ said Oran.
Lothian looked deep into Oran’s tortured eyes, until the High Warlock found truth. ‘In the Realms of my soul, Lord Oran… I believe he would be a great Ruler.’
‘As long as he does not lose his way, or is influenced by the wrong sources,’ the Ushabti reminded them.
‘Then what am I to do?’ asked Oran, feeling helpless.
‘The Shenn is linked to all five amulets,’ Tuan began. ‘In the wrong hands, it is a weapon against all that we know. Without it… well… we can only surmise. However, according to Lord Greer, it appears you may be familiar with the bearer of the missing item and, for reasons unknown, wish to conceal… or… dare I say… protect them.’
‘You have no—’
‘I see it,’ interrupted Greer, aware of Oran’s guilt, ‘… in your eyes.’
‘So, why deny it?’ added Tuan.
Oran held his silence, considering all options. There were none; he could not deny it.
‘And, I suspect you are partially responsible for its misplacement,’ Tuan persisted. ‘Therefore, the Elliyan order you to bring your son to us; besides, is it not your duty?’
Oran shook his head in defiance. ‘And there lies the truth!’ he threw back. ‘I know you can’t take him from me, despite your reluctance to admit it. I will give up my son, when I am ready, and not by your command. We have enough time.’
‘If that was so, Lord Oran, then I would gladly give you it.’
The sound of the Ushabti speaking his name was magnetic, luring his attention to him.
Beyond the Darkness Page 15