A Trial of Souls

by Brian D. Anderson

  The moment the door swung open, the house disappeared. Before him now was a long stone hallway that vanished into the darkness. His footfalls echoed loudly as he walked, and the dusty stale air dried his throat. He coughed and spat, wishing he had brought a flask. The hall continued on and on until he began to wonder if it had any end at all. He was on the point of turning back when a dim ball of light appeared a few yards ahead. As he drew closer the ball began to pulse slowly and evenly. Then, when he was close enough to reach out and touch it, there was a blinding flash. After a few seconds his sight began to readjust.

  He looked around. The hallway had vanished. He was standing atop the first in a series of natural rock pillars, each one large enough to hold a couple of dozen men. He walked to the edge and looked down, but was only able to see for about one hundred feet before a dense fog clouded his vision. The sound of a horse snorting nervously came from behind. Glancing around, he saw a great black steed standing near the lip of a massive cliff face. It stamped and shifted, its powerful neck thrusting its head up and down.

  “Is anyone here?” His voice echoed repeatedly, but there was no reply. He looked back once again at the horse and sighed.

  The next pillar was close enough to jump onto quite easily. What’s more, it seemed to be the only obvious way forward. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his legs to spring into life. All was still and calm as he pushed off the edge and flew through the air. However, just as he was about to land, the pillar he was aiming for vanished and transformed into a smooth black granite courtyard surrounded by a one hundred-foot high sheer wall. In the center of this stood a ten-foot tall white obelisk. At the far end, cut into the living rock, was a stairway leading upwards. A flickering light shone down these steps, throwing shadows to and fro. Gewey looked behind him. The pillars were all gone. In their place was a dense mist, swirling and twisting over a great chasm.

  “Hello!” he yelled. Again, all he could hear was the echo of his own voice.

  He approached the obelisk and ran his hand over its smooth surface. There was something familiar about this place, but it was like trying to remember a childhood dream - just beyond his grasp. Shaking his head in frustration, he climbed the stairs. At the top he saw before him an immense alcove with polished white marble walls inlayed with gold and precious jewels. Scattered across the smooth floor were pieces of a shattered statue depicting a warrior. Gewey could tell that the figure was once roughly ten feet tall and had stood with outstretched arms.

  “This was the resting place of the Sword of Truth,” came a voice to his left. It was like a gentle breeze over crystal wind chimes. He turned, at the same time reaching for his sword.

  Standing before him was a woman dressed in pure white silk robes. Her hair was the color of honey, the tiny ringlets falling over her shoulders and down her back. Her slim figure swayed with an unearthly grace, and her ivory skin and azure eyes were perfect in a way that Gewey had never seen before – almost too perfect. Her beauty was so enthralling that he found himself blushing at the sight of her. He had not felt this way since the first time he’d kissed Kaylia.

  Finally, he managed to speak. “Who…who are you?” His voice cracked, and his tongue felt dry and swollen.

  She smiled warmly. “I am your guide, Darshan. I am here to show you the path.”

  “You know me?” he asked.

  She laughed a sweet gentle laugh. Gewey laughed in return, even before he realized what he was doing. “Of course I know you,” she said. “I was there at your birth. I stood beside your father when the divine light helped you draw your first breath.”

  Gewey’s mind reeled. “Are you my…mother?”

  She drew closer. “No, my darling child. I did not have that honor. You know me as Ayliazarah, goddess of fertility and love. But I have had many names.” She scrutinized him for a long moment. “This will not do,” she said softly, closing her eyes briefly.

  As if a spell had been broken, Gewey felt his senses returning. Though still lovely beyond compare, she no longer seemed to exceed the realm of mortal beauty.

  “What did you do?” asked Gewey.

  “Nothing really,” Ayliazarah replied. “I hid my true nature so that you would not be ensnared.”

  “I don’t understand.” His tone became suspicious. “How can you be here? I thought the gods were trapped in heaven.”

  “We are.” She stepped forward and took his hand. Her skin was hot to the touch, though softer than the finest silk. “I am as you saw your father - an essence left behind. And like Gerath, I was intended for a specific purpose. I exist as a guide for those who seek to test themselves.”

  “Test themselves how?” he asked.

  “To peer into one’s own soul is the ultimate test,” she replied, her voice now serious, though still musical and kind. “And it is a test you must now take. For the world depends on you becoming what you must be. As do those trapped in heaven.” She waved her arm in a slow arc and her form began to fade. “Fear you not. Though you will not see me, I am still here.”

  As she disappeared completely from sight, a low rumbling noise began. The ground directly beneath Gewey began to shake violently. He watched as the pieces of the ruined statue crumbled and turned to dust: seconds later a great pillar of fire erupted from its still intact base in the center of the alcove. The heat was enough to drive him back to the edge of the steps.

  A deep, thunderous voice came from within the fire. “And now that the gentle liar has gone, you can know why you are really here.”

  “What is this?” cried Gewey. Drawing in the flow, he unsheathed his sword. “Who are you?”

  “For one so powerful, you know very little,” the voice replied. “Do you not know me? We have spoken before.”

  “You!” he hissed furiously. “What do you want?”

  Harsh laughter raked at Gewey’s ears. “What does it matter? I have what I want. The war is mine, and so is this world. By the time you return to help your friends, it will all be over. You have lost.”

  “You lie!” shouted Gewey. “Be gone or face me now.”

  “I am no liar,” he replied scornfully. “It is you and your kind that has lied to the world. Hatred and strife is the result of the sins of the gods. But now it has come to an end. Soon they will all perish. All but you. I offer to spare you and you alone.”

  Gewey laughed contemptuously. “You have made this offer before. And as before I tell you this…I will destroy you.”

  “You cannot,” he said flatly. “I am beyond you now. You can no longer threaten my reign.”

  Gewey sniffed. “If that is so, why spare me?”

  “You are special,” he replied. “You are an earth bound god with the spirit of a man. You are far too valuable to waste. In time you will serve me, though it may take a thousand years for you to relent. But what is time to an immortal? I will watch as you rail against the world - and against me. And when you have exhausted your rage I will take you unto my bosom. By then, of course, all that you know and love will have become dust, their spirits drifting eternally in the doldrums of oblivion.”

  Gewey sneered. “That is unless I join you now, I suppose. You will save all the people I love from certain death. You are a fool if you think me so easily deceived.”

  “It is not I who will save them,” he said. “You will save them on your own. You have the power within you, but you don’t know how to control it. I can teach you the flow of the spirit. With it you can make the people you love immortal.”

  “Don’t listen to his lies!” shouted a familiar voice from just behind Gewey. Before he had time to turn, Lee pushed past him, his blade already drawn.

  Gewey almost lost his balance. “Lee!”

  “Get back, Gewey,” roared Lee, his eyes fixed on the fire. “He’s trying to get you to surrender your will.”

  Mocking laughter burst forth. “Lee Starfinder. The rash fool I have allowed too long to remain among the living.”

  From the heart of the fire a
spear shot out, piercing Lee’s chest. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Gewey raced to his side.

  “Are you real?” Gewey asked desperately. “Or is this a part of the test?”

  Lee pulled the spear free and tossed it aside. He looked at Gewey apologetically. “I’m sorry. The Reborn King has corrupted this place. I would never have allowed you to come here, but I couldn’t find you in time.” He slumped down, blood soaking his shirt and spilling onto the marble floor.

  Gewey eased his friend onto his back and tried to heal him, but the flow was repelled. Letting out a loud grunt of frustration, he tried again. Again he was pushed back. “I can’t stop the bleeding,” he cried out.

  Lee gripped his wrist. “He won’t let you. He wants me dead.”

  “You can save him,” This time the Dark Knight’s voice was tender and compassionate. “If you allow me to show you how.”

  Gewey reached out and touched Lee’s mind. It felt real. His body was warm and he looked just as he had in Valshara, only more travel worn.

  “I always believed in you,” said Lee. His voice was becoming weak and his eyes distant. “You will do what’s right.”

  Gewey drew all of the flow he could stand, but it was useless.

  “Time is running out,” The voice of the enemy was only in his mind this time. “Let me in, and we can save him.”

  Gewey shook his head furiously. “No!” He drew in the flow of the spirit. The familiar laughter and bells filled the air. He looked down at Lee and could see his spirit rising. He had done this before in the desert - he had saved Aaliyah. But then it was instinctual, and he had no idea how he’d actually achieved it. Even so, he had to try. Summoning up all the resolve he could muster, he tightened his hold on the flow and managed to keep Lee’s spirit within its body. But unlike Aaliyah’s spirit, Lee’s was resisting him. It was trying to force its way out. Gewey held it fast, watching in horror as his friend’s body convulsed and jerked in a gruesome dance.

  “What is happening?” he cried.

  “Did you think all souls are the same?” the Dark Knight scoffed. “How different is a half-man from an elf? Do you even know where to begin? Look at him. Look at what you have done.”

  Gewey stared in horror as Lee’s skin shriveled and blistered. Huge veins bulged from his face and forehead. Suddenly his eyes popped open. They were black and empty. He let out a blood curdling screech and scrambled to his feet. Gewey tried to hold him, but he was too strong. Lee ran to the far end of the alcove and began tearing at the marble wall with his nails, shaking his head violently.

  “Should I end his suffering?” The Dark Knight sounded as a father teaching a son. “Shall I undo the evil that you have done through your ignorance?”

  Gewey couldn’t speak. The sight of his friend and mentor in such hellish torment racked him with guilt. Picking up his sword, he slowly approached Lee. He could feel the fear coming from him. Blood ran down the wall where he had ripped off his fingernails in his madness.

  “I’m sorry my friend,” whispered Gewey. With a single quick stroke he took Lee’s head. The body continued to claw at the wall for a few more seconds before dropping to the floor. Black ooze poured out, pooling at Gewey’s feet. “I reject you,” he shouted. “If this is real, then I have more reason to destroy you. If not…”

  A howling wind suddenly rose. The light faded until he was in complete darkness. Though he stood tall, he could not feel the ground beneath him. After a few seconds the wind died and he was alone.

  “So it wasn’t real?” asked Gewey.

  “It could be,” echoed the voice of Ayliazarah. “Many things you will face could come to pass. Before you is a road with numerous forks. Your soul is what drives you to your destiny, and that is what you will face. The death of your friend, the corruption of the flow, the temptation to give life - some of these things are real, others could be should you choose to allow it. But beware. This was the doorway. Beyond this place, you will lose yourself. You will forget where you are. You will truly believe that all you see is real.” There was a long pause. “Now you must decide if you are to continue and face the truth of your heart.”

  Gewey took a breath, remembering his first visit to the spirit world. Back then he had forgotten where he was for a time. As a result he had very nearly ended up being trapped there forever. And if anything went wrong this time, Kaylia would not be coming to rescue him again.

  “And if I fail?” he asked.

  His words were met by silence.

  It was decided. “Very well. I will go on.”

  Chapter 14

  The scent of the mint lamb combined wonderfully with the sweet wine in his glass, making Gewey’s mouth water. He picked up the bottle. The label read ‘Vine Run’, prompting him to think of Minnie and her old goat of a husband, Vernin. Taking a sip, he leaned back in his chair, a contented smile on his lips as the warm glow of the fire soothed him. He admired the tapestries and paintings that hung on the walls of the dining room, as well as the plush, blood red Dantory rug. However, it was the crystal encased silver lanterns hanging above the mahogany table that he loved most of all. They were a gift from...? He rubbed his chin and chuckled. He couldn’t remember how he’d acquired them.

  The door opened and a young maid entered carrying his plate. The smell of mint filled the room even more strongly, giving everything a wholesome feel. The maid placed his food in front of him and turned to leave. Her red curly hair was tucked neatly under a cloth cap, and the tiny freckles on her nose gave her a girlish quality - not exactly pretty, but cute and sweet.

  “Umm!” Her name escaped him. “Thank you ....”

  The maid stopped and curtsied, her eyes down. “Frannie, my lord.”

  Gewey smiled. “Yes, of course.” How could he have forgotten? “Frannie, do you remember where I bought those lanterns, or perhaps who gave them to me?”

  She looked confused. “You did not buy them, my lord. They were here when you arrived. But if I’m not mistaken, the king had this house built for you. Perhaps he would know.”

  “Yes,” murmured Gewey. “The king.” He waved his hand dismissively. Frannie curtsied again and scurried out.

  Gewey ate his meal and finished the bottle of wine. He looked up again at the lanterns. Why couldn’t he remember about the bloody things? It was maddening. A few minutes later Frannie returned with two other servants to clear the table and pour him a snifter of plum brandy. He sighed with pleasure as it touched his lips. To think he had once hated this stuff.

  The door opened again and a man entered. He was dressed in a fine green silk shirt with a ruffled collar, black trousers, and a black satin cape. A thin gold crown rested on his wrinkled brow. Although his frame was bent and he seemed much older than Gewey remembered, he was still able to recognize his visitor as King Lousis. The deep lines on the king’s face and the silver in his hair spoke of a man at the end of his days, rather than the proud and strong leader who had fought the armies of Angrääl. But of course! That had been years ago. Gewey laughed at his own absentmindedness.

  He stood and bowed. “Your highness. Welcome.” He offered the old king a chair.

  Lousis grunted as he sat. “Thank you, Darshan. These old legs are not as strong as they once were. What I wouldn’t give to be as I was when the Second Great War began.” He chuckled and coughed. “Well…maybe even a bit younger than that.”

  Gewey took his seat and poured Lousis a glass of brandy. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  Lousis raised an eyebrow. “You called me here, Darshan. You asked me to bear witness to the execution.” He looked closely at Gewey. “Surely you have not had a change of heart? That blasted elf tried to kill you.”

  The image of an elf standing over his bed with a knife in his hand flashed through Gewey’s mind. He had barely been able to roll away in time and pin his attacker to the ground with the flow. But the elf’s face was clouded, making identification impossible. “No! Of course not,” Gewey
said. “Such things cannot be tolerated.”

  Lousis looked at him with understanding. “I know he was your friend, and I know you fought together. But he has not been able to accept the peace you have created. He thinks you are a traitor.”

  It was then that his memory cleared a little. Linis! It was Linis who had tried to kill him. “He blames me for something to do with Celandine. What happened to her?”

  Lousis was taken aback. “Don’t you remember? She was killed during the second assault on Valshara, just as the war was ending.” He shrugged. “It was a confusing time I suppose, and there was so much turmoil.”

  The war! It was over? But how…how did it end? How did Linis ever become his enemy?

  Gewey lowered his head. Linis’ face appeared in his mind. Hatred and fury blazed in the elf’s eyes as he tried to strike him down. “I’m sorry,” said Gewey. “I’m not myself today. Tell me about the end of the war.”

  Lousis straightened. “I beg your pardon? The end of the war? Why?”

  Gewey took a deep breath, letting the air out slowly. “As I said, I’m not myself today. I would like to hear the tale, if you would humor me.” He could see the king was unable to refuse. But of course not. Lousis was but a vassal. Darshan was the true authority; that much he knew for sure.

  “Well, I guess I should start after you returned from the east,” said Lousis. “We had just learned that the elves from the desert had been destroyed by an Angrääl army as they tried to cross the Goodbranch River. We had already been defeated at Baltria, so the Reborn King had us surrounded.”

  Each word Lousis uttered brought a new memory rushing back. But everything was still distant and surreal. “Yes. I recall now. Kaylia…”

  How could he ever have forgotten Kaylia?

  “You miss her still, Darshan. I know you do.” Lousis looked as if he were afraid to say her name.

  Gewey’s mind was in turmoil. Where was she? A tear fell down his cheek as an inexplicable sadness washed over him.