Chapter 18
The world had gone black as pitch. Ara couldn’t figure out what in the world had happened. One moment he was consumed with the thrill of victory. The next moment he couldn’t see or feel a thing.
The closest he could come to describing how he was feeling was light and weightless. Was he dead? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was no longer standing, but rather floating through the blackness.
It was as though he was in a dream that he couldn’t wake up from. He reached over with an arm he couldn’t see and attempted to pinch himself. Nothing. He didn’t feel a thing. He knew at a moment like this that he should be extremely panicked and yet he was not.
“I am dead!” he said aloud but could not hear the words or for that matter feel his face moving. Indeed it was as though his physical body was gone and he existed now only as a mist that swirled through the black void.
What had killed him? Surely there were hundreds of zombies in the Woodland Tombs, but they had all been motionless while Sorpa threatened to kill Vale, using her former lover as the weapon. He certainly hadn’t felt any pain when he’d died. He began to wonder if the others there had been killed as well.
“You’re not dead,” a kind voice whispered through the mist. Whether he had heard this or imagined it he could not be sure. He wasn’t certain what was real any more.
“I promise you are still very much alive,” the voice spoke again. It was definitely a man’s voice. One that he’d never heard before. “I saved you from death so you could stop the darkness that’s coming. A chain of events has been started that will destroy all of Eliantar. You couldn’t fall with the others. I couldn’t allow it.”
What was the voice trying to tell him? Fall with the others? Where were they? Was Vale alright?
“Look and see what’s happened while you’ve been gone,” the voice responded to the unspoken question.
“While I’ve been gone?” thought Ara. But, he didn’t have time to question that statement as the darkness melted away and he saw a scene that was all too familiar to him.
He hovered several yards above the Woodland Tombs. He could see Vale staring frantically at the empty spot where Ara had just been standing. He was yelling towards him but Ara could not make it out. The zombies scattered across the clearing stayed motionless, unaware of what to do without their master.
He felt himself being forced to gaze to his far right and he saw a black, gnarled tree. He watched the tree began to twitch and writhe as it slowly changed shape. It was a man, a man garbed in black metal with razored edges on his arms, legs, and neck.
Skarsend was enormous, standing roughly nine feet tall and was as broad as four men. His eyes were the color of fire. His sharp, white teeth glinted with delight as he stalked towards Vale.
“Kill whoever is still alive!” he roared with a voice that sounded like that of a wild animal.
Ara watched in horror, unable to help, as the few soldiers who were left were slaughtered brutally. Though the zombies only obeyed Sorpa, it seemed they also responded to the power of a god. When the zombies that had been led by Sorpa Veneficus approached Vale and his brother, Skarsend ordered them to stop.
“Leave them for me!” he cackled with a laugh that would’ve chilled Ara’s spine, if he still felt like he had one.
The scene melted away and he felt himself somewhere in the fields in the midst of the countryside. He looked around, but could not be sure exactly where he was. There were fields as far as the eye could see, but little else to separate this part of the country from the others.
Looking up he wanted to gasp, but of course could not. Thick, black clouds poured across the skies, blocking out the suns from view. The breeze that surrounded him became a deep chill and even though he could not feel it, he was extremely aware of it.
He could barely see a few feet in front of him anymore. The clouds, that looked more like smoke, had completely dominated the skies and it appeared to Ara that they were not going to dissipate anytime soon.
The fields melted away and he found himself in a room that he’d been in before. He couldn’t forget the gauzy drapes that covered all of the windows. Then there were the hundreds of lit candles scattered around the tower chamber and the numerous smoking pots. He was in Forr Suosor’s sanctuary.
Looking around, he saw Forr in a heap on his bed, weeping openly. He seemed lost and frantic. The tears flowed down his streaked cheeks and every few moments he would pound the bed with abandon, as hard as an old man could.
Stopping suddenly, he jumped up from his bed and ran over to a large cauldron in the corner. Grabbing several vials from a nearby cabinet, he frantically uncorked them and dumped their contents into the cauldron. The black pot hissed and smoked furiously.
“Where is he?!” yelled Forr. “Where has he gone?” He stuck his head over the cauldron and took a deep breath of the vapors that were rising from it. He immediately began gasping loudly and convulsing, his white eyes bulging out of his head.
He stepped back and collapsed once more onto the bed. “Where is he? Where has he gone?”
Glancing at the broken vials on the floor, Ara read a few of the labels. It seemed Forr had been concerned about his ability to read the future correctly any longer. The potions he was making were no doubt to put him a spiritual trance of some kind. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the old man, as he, himself, had recently come to realize that the old man’s powers weren’t completely diminished.
Hearing Forr mumble something else, Ara glided over to the side of the bed and looked down at the old man convulsing and writhing.
“No hope. There’s no hope.”
Forr was gone in an instant and Ara found himself back in the Woodland Tombs. Glancing around he could see the thousands of tomb stones and unearthed graves begin to fade from sight.
Obviously the first sun had risen so the Tombs would cease to exist for another day. If not for this, however, Ara would never have guessed that the day had come as the black clouds still littered the sky.
He hovered over the clearing looking for any sign of life, but there was none. The fallen soldiers were gone as were the zombies. Any sign of a scuffle had faded away with the graves. Hearing a grunt across the forest, Ara glided over to the sound’s origin.
If he were able to gasp he surely would have. Prode marched along with two undead warriors escorting him in shackles. His moss-colored robes and handsome face were stained with dark mud. The look on his face was one of defeat and hopelessness. He trudged through the thick forest with great difficulty, occasionally stumbling, only to be punched from behind by one of his escorts.
He looked less like a prince and more like a pauper as the tears began to flow down his dirty face. Ara could see that he was trying in vain to compose himself, but was failing.
A few times Ara tried to swoop and attack the zombies, but to no avail. They remained completely unaware of his presence.
“It’s no use trying to change what you see,” the kind voice appeared again. “You are simply watching scenes from the past. You cannot interact with the visions presented to you.”
“How far in the past is this? Where am I now?” Ara thought as loud as he could.
Rather than hear an answer, Ara watched as his surroundings faded into a greenish cloud, which slowly became a brownish cloud. A moment later he was in the midst of a vast desert.
Before him was a giant mountain with heavy metal doors. Besides that, all he could make out around him was an endless yellow desert with gaping sinkholes. Though he had never been this deep into the realm, he knew he must be in Errandomn, the land of the Tamalus.
Hearing one of the heavy doors open, Ara turned to face Plucid Duru wiping his fat, sweaty face with a handkerchief. His bulgy eyes looked from left to right, over and over again. Ara glided through the opening just before Plucid slammed the door shut.
“Oh, my gods. Oh, my gods,” he
whimpered to no one in particular.
Ara knew this must be the Errandomn Citadel, the capital of this realm. And no wonder Plucid was always so anxious. The entire structure was built out of a hollow mountain. There was no furniture or decoration as far as he could see in the massive entryway. He couldn’t even make out where the ceiling or back wall were. All that he could see were large stalagmites far above his head and several stone staircases leading to who knows what.
Turning back to Plucid, he saw that the Ambassador had collapsed onto the hard ground and was sobbing loudly.
“Help me!” he roared. “Please someone for the love of the gods, help me!
The heavy doors burst open and Ara could just make out the outline of several figures standing there.
“Oh no!” screamed Plucid. And just like that he was gone along with his surroundings.
Before he saw the lava, he could sense the heat around him. The environment was filled with fire, both natural and emotional. As Iradt Furich came into view, Ara attempted to cringe before realizing that he could not.
She stormed through the red chamber in a fury. Her heels clicked angrily on the cracked, black floors as she twisted her tight curls atop her head. This went on and on for several minutes before Ara finally looked away and took in his surroundings.
The room looked to be Iradt’s throne room, though quite small. There was a black door on the opposite side of the wall that led through the narrow room to a gigantic red throne, the only piece of decoration in the room. He looked at the walls and realized the room gave off a red glow because of the magma that flowed down through holes in the floor. Overall, Ara though that the red-hot room perfectly mirrored Iradt’s incessant rage.
“Why was Vale there alone?!” roared the robust woman in her blood-red dress. “He had his bodyguard with him. What happened to him?”
Ara knew without having to wonder that Iradt was asking about him. He realized that his sudden disappearance from the Woodland Tombs made him look like a failure to everyone.
“…should never have even been appointed!” Iradt raged on. “Vale picks him on some whim or childish infatuation and we’re all just supposed to believe and trust that this man is as wonderful as all his predecessors who had years of training. And now look what’s happened to us.”
He couldn’t help but feel the pangs of guilt. As much as he disliked Iradt, he didn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially Vale. As everything began to fade away, he wondered just how badly he had failed and what had become of the beautiful man that he had fallen in love with.
“Damn you Ara Tataman!” he heard her yell as she faded from view. “Damn you the way you’ve damned the rest of us!”
He saw a mane of blonde hair whip by him and knew immediately that he was in Volaticas Temed’s Citadel in Steedo. Glancing around he wasn’t sure how any of the Ambassadors could live in these unfeeling dwellings. Then he remembered the outside of the Water Citadel and how beautiful it was. Clearly it was a matter of personal preference and suddenly it didn’t surprise him that Volaticas’s home would give off a chill as he was Ara’s least favorite Ambassador.
The room was a massive square and the walls were composed entirely of windows and glass doors that led to massive balconies. Even so the gray floors and ceilings made it clear that this was not a room where the self-centered Director would come to appreciate the sunshine.
There was a loud slam and Ara watched as Volaticas used his wind powers to angrily slam all of the windows and doors shut. One at a time the heavy glass swung shut making loud pops and Ara was entirely surprised that none of them cracked from the strength of it.
Turning on his heel, Volaticas strode to the middle of the room; bitterness covered his handsome face. He said nothing as he knelt in the middle of the room, on the hard floor. He cursed no one and didn’t allow the hatred to leave his face.
It gave Ara an eerie feeling. It looked as though Temed knew something awful was coming and all he could do was wait for it. Wait with a bitter hatred for all to see through his glass palace.
The vision of Volaticas was gone and try as Ara did, he could not bring himself to feel sympathy for the man. Plucid and Iradt had never been his favorite people but they had a level of respect for King Vale, something that Volaticas Temed had never managed to muster.
The lake that appeared before Ara was beautiful. It was as azure and serene as one would appear in a storybook. Looking across the lake, Ara could see a figure kneeling at the water’s edge and so he glided over.
It was Lenta staring into the peaceful waters, her long brown curls covering her face. Ara could see from the reflection in the water that she was sad and fraught with worry, though she was trying to disguise it.
When three Fonnes burst their heads through the water, Ara would have jumped if he could. Lenta on the other hand had clearly been expecting them. They seemed thrilled to see their Ambassador, gurgling and talking loudly at her with their bulgy eyes blinking rapidly.
“I am so sorry to tell you…” she whispered softly, just loud enough for Ara to hear. She took a deep breath and was clearly too broken up to continue.
The Fonnes stopped their gurgles and looked at each other, concerned. At least as concerned as they could look considering they had giant fish heads. They waited for her to continue as their transparent bodies bobbed up and down in the sparkling lake, which had lost much of its sparkle since the suns were covered.
“I’ve come to tell you goodbye my friends,” she continued quietly, unable to make eye contact with any of them. “I sense…I don’t think that I’ll be around much anymore.” Seeing their eyes bulge even more she quickly went on. “I don’t want any of you to worry. I will be fine and so will all of you. I’m sorry, I have to go now. Good bye.”
The Fonnes called after her as she walked away, probably asking her to explain further, but Lenta quickly rushed away in a swirl of blue gauze. Ara could hear her sobs as she disappeared.
Ara turned back to look at the Fonnes and it broke his heart. They made low cooing sounds as though they were at a funeral. They stared after Lenta for several moments before finally accepting that she was not coming back and diving back under the water.
The scene began to fade and all Ara wanted to do in the world was to appear in corporeal form in Quale and comfort the gentle Fonnes and go reassure Lenta Benigg that he would make everything okay. He wouldn’t give up until he’d fixed the things that his absence had wronged. Unfortunately as Quale flew further and further away from him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to make this possible.
When Ara was able to see around him again, he realized that he was in a place that he had never cared to return to: the Ivory Towers dungeon. Though the thousands of torches still burned, the circular room was still cast in an eerie shadow.
Ara swooped around and noticed immediately why the dungeon seemed so different than the last time he was here. There were no guards to be found. The room was completely empty. Somehow, judging from the other things he had seen, he knew the Ivory Towers were in the presence of something sinister as well.
He decided to ascend the stone staircase and see what was going on in the castle when a weak cough made him turn around. There, behind the bars, sitting cross-legged against the wall was Destor Caelu.
Caelu stared straight ahead completely unwavering. His purple cloth veil still concealed the lower portion of his face, but Ara could see from his eyes a look that he couldn’t altogether describe.
Slowly he stirred and climbed to his feet. He shed his purple cloak and Ara saw he was wearing black pants and a maroon vest, leaving his bare arms exposed. Ara was surprised at how muscular the villain was. His veil and cloak had disguised his age, so Ara had merely assumed he was an older man, but his body gave him away as being much younger.
An explosion from above caused Ara to turn back towards the stairs as heavy footfalls approached coming quickly down the stone steps. The
entire dungeon rattled. Dirt and dust showered from the ceiling, but Destor remained oblivious to it as a young soldier arrived on the pebbled floor.
“I tried to warn them that this was coming,” Destor called knowingly. “I told King Vale that he and his friends had to be stopped and now look at what has happened.”
The soldier ran to the barred door, bloodied and bruised. His armor was hanging around him in torn shards of metal and he looked as though he couldn’t move his left arm. He looked in pleadingly at Destor, as a man with no hope.
“What can we do? How can we stop this?”
Destor’s eyes flickered with that same hard to describe look that they had earlier. He just stood there knowingly, not arrogant about his knowledge, but completely aware.
The soldier yelled more forcefully, “If you are in possession of any knowledge that can help, than you are bound legally to help me or be tried for treason.”
Destor didn’t falter as he responded, “Once again, like your King before you, you foolishly assume that I’m in league with these people. I know nothing more about Skarsend than I did about the necromancer’s master plan. What I can tell you is that he is not alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I assume you remember Culpata, the beautiful young friend of Vale’s who tried to kill him in Steedo? She escaped but was presumed dead.”
“Yes.”
“She’s not.”
“Go on with it!”
“As I said, I don’t know what he and his allies have planned. I am not a part of their alliance.”
“So, you’re just another monster who was trying to cause your own chaos on the world before the other ones could?” the guard screamed, to which Destor just smiled under his mask.
“As I’ve already been jailed without any chance to defend myself, I see no reason to start doing so now. What I will tell you is that this is not the harshest of it. Things are going to get far worse and you should consider it a blessing from the gods that you will not live to see it. Eliantar is entering its final days and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it now.”
The guard and Destor both dissolved into the nether and the metal bars that went around the circular room melted into the floor and yet Ara remained in the dim dungeon. He looked around wondering why he would still be here and what had become of the other two, as the torches also ceased to be present.
At once, out of the darkness a dozen beams of red light shot down from the ceiling making a complicated web in the center of the room. He stared at the net of light and realized there was someone standing in the middle.
Vale, King of Eliantar, stood on the pebbled floor, his wrists shackled with chains digging into the hard floor. Though he was looking down, Ara could see that his face was much thinner than before and covered in dirt. His long, black hair had been chopped and was a shaggy mess on his head. He was clothed in a large piece of black cloth that looked like a poncho, the color of midnight.
Ara swooped all around the man that he loved trying to get his attention, trying in vain to help release him, but knew before he had started that it was no use. Vale had obviously been here some time and looked near to death. Ara could see that much in his defeated look.
Looking back around, Ara realized that the red beams of light that created a netting around Vale must be forming a cell of sorts. Even if Vale could escape from his shackles, how could he escape the cage that had been created around him?
Ara glided towards Vale again, but the scene had already begun to fade. Ara cursed loudly in his mind as he tried frantically to stay with his beloved but it was not to be.
“I am sorry to show you such despair” the sweet voice returned. “You needed to see what’s transpired while you were gone so that you can make things right. You were about to be killed by Skarsend, the Tyrant King. He can never be stopped if you are not alive. In order to protect you from death I had to hide you in a place that the Tyrant King would never look.”
“Where is that?” Ara thought.
“Five years in the future,” the voice responded, as if able to hear him. “Skarsend has scoured the land looking for you and after five years I believe he has lowered his guard for your return.”
“But who are you?” Ara concentrated. “How were we able to travel through time?
“It’s time to wake up,” the voice boomed. “Open your eyes and all will be answered. Fulfill your destiny and bring peace to this dying world.”
There was nothing left to lose.
Everything was gone.
Ara opened his eyes.
The Woodland Tombs of Eliantar Page 21