by C. M. Carney
“Aye, and what they learned from me almost cost us everything. And the Princes of Chaos are worse than the Prime.”
“Yes, they are. They wish to tear down everything, drag reality back to the primal morass of never-ending change. They wish to use their power to unmake the Realms. And if we do not use every weapon available to us, including the enemy’s own weapons, we will not survive.”
“How can you know this?” Eadweanna, the gray-haired human sage asked. “Scholars have sought to uncover the motives of the Princes for millennia. They are fluid, unknowable, elusive.”
For a breath Gryph said nothing, but before he could speak, Sillendriel spoke for him. “He has seen it.” Her tone laced with equal measures of awe and fear. The others all turned to her. “They have shown him what they want.”
“What have ye seen?” Grimliir asked, turning from the empyrean dryad to Gryph. “What dae they want?”:
“They want my Godhead.”
19
The sound of several dozen chair legs scraping on stone filled the Nexus, followed by a frenzy of voices, some scared, some angry and all alarmed. Gryph heard a barked accusation that his meddling with chaos had brought this danger to their door. Several voices rose in agreement and the room began to turn against him. What Gryph was about to do could very well seal his fate, but it needed doing.
It is time Your Majesty, Gryph sent.
Errat sat forward in his chair and stared down the darkened tunnel behind Gryph, his eyes growing wider in fearful anticipation. Errat turned his gaze to Gryph, his head cocked to the side.
Interesting, Gryph thought. Can he sense it?
A moment later it happened. Like the spread of an odorless gas, a miasma of disorder flowed into the room and over everyone in it. The surrounding voices grew louder and an edge of madness crept into them. Sputtering laughter and shouts of anger rose.
Even though he knew what was happening, Gryph struggled to keep the madness from swirling inside him. He felt untethered, disordered … chaotic. He closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to bring order to his thoughts, to his emotions. A scream threatened to explode from his throat, and he sent another mental command.
Stop! That’s enough.
In an instant the world returned to sanity, as if a blast of fresh air had pushed away a choking fog of madness. Shock and fear flowed in a silent wave through the room. Confusion filled the eyes of the Round Table, like people awakened from a horrific dream they could not discount as a fantasy of the subconscious mind.
He drove his manacled wrists down hard onto the stone table. The metal bracelets thundered like gavels, drawing all eyes to him. As one, the members of the Round Table realized the truth of their collective moment of insanity and fell silent.
“What in the Abyss was that?” Grimliir scowled, glaring at Gryph.
“A point proven,” Gryph said calmly. “Your Majesty, please enter.” He turned as best he could with his hands manacled to the table and saw a shimmering crystal spider leg emerge from the darkness of the tunnel. Another leg moved in and then Akashiri revealed herself.
The spider queen had grown exponentially in the several days since he’d last seen her. Her car sized body shimmered as she entered, and gasps of awe moved around the room. She was magnificent, but none had the time to admire her alien beauty as more legs emerged from the shadows.
Two more massive crystal arachnids emerged from the tunnel, each trailing stands of thick silk. These spiders dwarfed their queen, and it was obvious the creatures were warriors.
A muffled screech came from behind them and a spider bound in silk was dragged into the room. This one thrummed with the magma glow of chaos. As one, every member of the Round Table, apart from Lex, drew weapons and readied spells. The chaos corrupted spider raged against its bonds as it entered the Nexus, followed by another pair of crystal arachnids.
“He betrays us,” Thaldrain, the Master Brewer hissed, disbelief staining his voice.
“Be calm, all of ye!” Grimliir roared in a commanding tone, but his eyes bore into Gryph’s. The message was clear. Grimliir would give Gryph an opportunity to prove his point, but he had best do so quickly.
Gryph gave his Steward a small nod and then turned to Akashiri. “Thank you for coming Your Majesty and thank you for letting us bear witness to your burden.”
The spider queen drew her forelegs to her eyes, a motion Gryph had learned was her way of making acknowledgement. Then she turned her multi-eyed gaze to the members of the Round Table. It was clear the arachnid unnerved many of those present.
Thank you Lord Stone, Akashiri sent. And my apologies for the dramatic entrance, but we believed it was necessary to prove a point.
“And what point is that?” Yrriel asked, clearly fascinated with the spider queen’s alien nature.
Akashiri turned and walked towards the corrupted spider who lunged at her as she got close, straining at its bonds. She eased a leg up towards the restrained spider hovering just short of touching its head. This poor creature is one of my children, the first of a new generation of crystal arachnids born on Korynn.
“But, it is so big, you are all so big,” Bruunhilde, the Master Alchemist said with awe.
Yes. A boon of accelerated growth from the Lords of Order, the queen sent. Now that my mother is dead, her burden falls to me. Akashiri paused, her foreleg quaking over her corrupted child before she pulled it back. This is my first born. As soon as he hatched, he knew his purpose, and he leapt to it without hesitation.
“This is what you told us of,” Gartheniel said, walking around the table to stand before the corrupted spider. “He has absorbed the chaos pouring through the breach.”
Yes. And it has corrupted him. What you felt moments before we entered was that corruption unconfined. If left unshackled, my child would spread the Phage to you all. He is no longer what he was. The corruption inside him will soon be too great for even me to hold back.
With a swift and surgical motion, Akashiri sunk the razor-sharp end of her foreleg between the corrupted spider’s eyes. The beast collapsed, a squeal of pain echoing around the Nexus. After a few seconds of twitching, the spider fell silent.
All about the Round Table, stunned silence hung heavy. The only sound was the slight clacking made by two of the spider warriors as they bound the corpse in silk and dragged it from the chamber.
Another of my children already feeds from the breach and soon he will join his brother in corruption. Then, I will be forced to kill him and another of my children will rise to make this same sacrifice. It will happen again and again until we seal the breach.
Around the room, hearts went heavy at the great burden Akashiri carried. Another sin the Princes of Chaos will answer for, Gryph promised himself.
“How are you countering this corruption?” Ovrym asked, his voice shaken from the scene. “Another gift from the Lords of Order?”
“Friend Akashiri has stolen knowledge from the Princes of Chaos.” Errat said. “Errat can feel the power of Chaos Magic in her.” Gasps filled the room, but all knew the warborn spoke the truth.
Barrendiel looked from Errat to the spider queen and then stared at Gryph, his eyes hard. “This is your point proven.”
“It is,” Gryph said, without apology. “I asked Akashiri to show you the cost of the battle her kind has waged on our behalf for millennia. She is now the front line of this war, as her mother was before her. Their children sacrifice themselves to protect this Realm, to protect us. Akashiri has put herself at risk by telling you this secret, for your laws, the same laws that doom me, also doom her.”
Gryph let the potency of his words sink in. “Your ancestors and mine did what they believed to be best in outlawing Chaos Magic, and for a long time those laws, though harsh, were righteous. But that time has passed. We do not know why the Princes of Chaos have chosen this time to act, but if we do not meet their threat with force of our own, then we will, all of us, lose this war. This is the danger we all must face, a d
anger none of us can hide from. We can no longer afford to cower behind ancient superstitions. If we do not fight back, we will lose. To defeat this enemy, we must use their own weapons against them.”
“And what if they use these weapons to control you?” Gartheniel asked. “All we do then is hasten our own destruction.”
A chorus of agreement moved about the table, but it was not total. This gave Gryph some hope.
“Indulge me in a question. Did any of you, apart from me, sense the approach of the corrupted spider before Akashiri let her control wane?” Gryph set his gaze on Errat. The warborn returned the look.
A chorus of noes filled the chamber mixed with many shakes of the head. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Errat raised a hand. “Errat sensed the approaching chaos.”
More shock and confusion moved through the Nexus.
Thank you Errat. A small, rueful smile crossed Gryph’s lips, one filled with both gratitude and regret. He outed himself. If they cast their sentence on me, then three will die today. Please let them cast aside their fear and see I am right. Gryph paused, letting another possibility fill him. And please let me be right. He wasn’t sure if anyone, or anything, would receive his mental pleas, but he would accept any help he could get.
“Is Brother Errat corrupted?” Berrath, the warborn commander asked, his normally stalwart tone edged with worry.
He is not corrupted Brother Berrath, Akashiri sent. No more than I am. His ability is a parting gift from my mother.
“A gift? Ye need tae explain that one Yer Highness,” Grimliir demanded, the harshness in his tone unable to cover his concern for the man who was, in every way that counted, his son.
For long centuries, as she watched her children sacrifice themselves in the war against the Princes, my mother studied the foulness of chaos. What she learned enabled her to see chaos, to understand it in a way few outside the Princes and their minions ever have. She used chaos’ own malleability, its power to alter the Phage and created a new strain that would allow those who survived the infection to detect chaos. Though her method was different with Errat, it was the same gift she gave Regent Myrsendiir so many years ago.
“You knew my Grandfather?” Shock filled Barrendiel’s voice.
I did not, but my mother did. She revealed herself long ago to the Regent and taught him how to detect the ravages of chaos. He taught this to his own son Lassendir.
“Why have I never heard this?” Barrendiel demanded, his voice frosty at the mention of his murdered uncle, but there was a twinge of hope burning at the chill edges.
I cannot speak for the actions of your Uncle, but I suspect it is because you were not groomed to be Regent. If Lassendir told anyone, taught anyone it would have been …
“The Aberrant,” Barrendiel said, his mood further souring at the mention of his murderous cousin’s ignoble title.
Yes. I am sorry I withheld this ability from you. Had I not, you would now understand Gryph did what needed to be done.
“So, if I’m understanding all this jazz correctly,” Lex said in a voice that was louder than was strictly necessary given the acoustics of the room. “Then Gryph’s decision, though rash, and in no way influenced by anyone else, was the right one?”
“You do remember we were standing next to you when you convinced Gryph, right?” Vonn asked. “Like right next to you. I still remember your stench.”
Lex waved a dismissive hand at Vonn and turned to the Regent and the Stewards. “We can talk blame later, or never if you’d rather go the forgive and forget route, but the fact of the matter is, if we’re going to defeat those chaotic asshats, we’re gonna need to see them coming. Thanks to Gryph, and Errat, and Her Majesty over there, we can. And I for one, trust Gryph to not go all crazy chaos cultist and do right by all of us. So, let bygones be bygones and let the dude be his badass self again.”
A hush fell over the Nexus once more as thoughts swirled and internal debates raged. Gryph hadn’t planned for Lex to deliver the closing arguments that would determine whether he lived or died, because, let’s face it, nobody in their right mind would let Lex take that role, but he found he was calm.
As happened often, Lex ruined the moment.
“Cuz I really don’t wanna have to get all ‘I must protect Gryph’ and go on a smash-smash fest against all you fine folks.”
The three judges stared at Lex for several long seconds and then stood as one and looked to Gryph. Around the room chairs pushed back as the rest of the Round Table joined them.
Lex moved from one foot to the other, his hands idly caressing the handle of his maul. Vonn leaned in close and spoke in a low, intense voice. “You really need to learn when to shut up.”
“Gryph, Stone Lord of Dar Thoriim, rise and face your judgement,” Barrendiel said.
20
Gryph waited for the Round Table’s judgement. He stood as rigid and straight as he had at his own secret court-martial. This time no bitterness burned his insides, and a small hum of surprise filled him as he realized that he would abide by their decision and accept his fate. On the table in front of him Raathiel adjusted herself, the low hiss of her scales bearing witness to the tenseness of the moment.
A hush fell over the Nexus as several dozen people held their breath. Each had made their decision and now they were voting on his fate via telepathic link. Gryph passed his gaze over the table, seeking for hints of how each person voted. Apart from Errat’s childlike smile and Lex’s foolish thumbs up, few of those assembled hinted how they had voted. Gryph’s gaze fell on Barrendiel. The Regent seemed to take that as a sign and his powerful voice filled the chamber.
“Gryph, son of Quinn, on the charge of wielding Chaos Magic, we the members of the Round Table of Dar Thoriim and Sylvan Aenor have found you not guilty.”
A wave of relief pushed through Gryph, but Barrendiel’s next words caused a backlash of worry.
“However, we have found you guilty of the lesser charge of endangering the lives of the citizens of these fair cities. At a minimum, this crime would normally result in the stripping of all titles, but this is no ordinary situation. Besides the growing threat of chaos, these cities face the prospect of war with the High God. It is a fragile time and our fate may very well hang on the edge of a knife blade.”
Around the room, nods of agreement and banged fists proved the solidarity of these people.
“We cannot afford to tip that fate, so we neither strip your title nor your authority from you.”
Gryph released a breath he’d been holding since Barrendiel had first started to speak, his chest burning. He lowered his head in thanks, failing to realize, until now, just how much he thought of this place as home, and these people as family.
“However,” Barrendiel said again. “Despite our belief that you are the right man to lead us through the dark days to come, we cannot allow you to act as you have in the past. We can no longer abide your lone wolf attitude, for you are now a leader of men. To that end you will retain your status, if you agree to the following Binding Vow.”
A prompt filled Gryph’s vision.
You have been presented with a Binding Vow.
Gryph, Son of Quinn, as the Stone Lord of Dar Thoriim and the Provisional Regent of Sylvan Aenor will you abide by the strictures set forth in this Binding Vow? Vows are powerful promises made Binding. They are enforced by the ancient magics of the Realms and will inflict severe penalties if you break the Vow.
• You must put the wellbeing of both cities ahead of your own personal interests.
• At a minimum, you will inform the Regent Barrendiel, or one of the Stewards Gartheniel and Grimliir, of any action, information or decision that may affect the cities and their citizens, and listen, in good faith, to their concerns and advice.
Do you abide by these terms? YES?/NO?
The prompt filled Gryph with gratitude and regret. Until now he hadn’t been fully cognizant of the duality of his behavior. While he had tried to put the interests of his people firs
t, many of his actions since becoming Stone Lord had served his own wants, his own needs. A leader needed to bury his own wants and desires to be effective. That the members of the Round Table saw, and forgave, these errors made him burn with a desire to make amends.
His decision was easy. He clicked YES.
“I agree to this Binding Vow.” A rush of heat pushed through Gryph’s entire body, firing from his chest up and down his spine and out to the tips of each individual nerve. He’d made several Binding Vows since entering the Realms, but none had been quite like this. Was it the gravity of the vow or perhaps the sheer number of people affected should he break it that made this one so potent?
Barrendiel nodded and the paladin guards removed Gryph’s manacles. Gartheniel’s shoulders grew less tense, and he made a notation in his book. Grimliir looked relaxed and for the first time since discovering Gryph had used Chaos Magic, his demeanor was less Steward and more friend, though there was a certain frostiness at its edges.
Sillendriel smiled at him warmly and he wondered how much of this day’s events she had foreseen. Her Divination talent was a potent, if erratic tool. Ovrym nodded to Gryph, while Vonn leaned on the back of his chair and made a small salute.
Lex was clapping shoulders and shaking hands, looking very much like a defense lawyer who'd just earned a not guilty verdict for his client. Finally, there was Errat, the man whose life Gryph had saved, nearly at the cost of his own. The normally effusive warborn brought his hands together in a prayer-like gesture of thanks and bowed.
Desiring to mark the occasion with her official approval, Raathiel coiled up several feet off the stone table and sung a wondrous, melodic song that brought tears to the eyes of all who heard it, including his own. You are beautiful, he sent, and for the first time since she’d been reborn he gazed on her with a light heart.