City of Torment as-2

by Bruce R Cordell

  Better to just lie still and watch the events in the glass unfold. In some, Raidon laughed. In others he slept, ate, or walked. In several he fought. He didn't like to watch those. If he did so too long, he shifted his perspective so often in order to follow the action that he sliced himself anew on the images' sharp edges. Welcome, agony.

  So he observed images other than his own, chiefly of the girl Ailyn. These were mostly idyllic. Mostly. A couple showed grave markers. When he turned his attention to avert his gaze from them, the shards cut more cruelly than ever.

  Thus when the sky blue Are blasted into him, tumbling his perspective end over end through the shattered splinters of his mind, Raidon screamed like a lost soul. The fire roared, furnace hot, across the bed of broken glass. The shards wilted under the heat. They slumped into reddish goo that began to congeal. When the flame puffed out, the melted pieces had formed together in a lumpy, sharp-edged mass.

  The mirror was reassembled, but crudely and with mismatched seams. Nothing reflected in its crazed surface would ever look the same again.

  *****

  Raidon heard music that he guessed was played on instruments forged of rotting skin and hollowed bones.

  Unwept tears filtered everything through a quilt of fractured glints. The monk wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand and saw the throne chamber of Xxiphu. He saw the spiraling elder aboleths-and that which stared down with its ocean of eyes high above. The noise was the creatures' chanting ritual.

  "I don't care," Raidon said. "Let me go, Angul."

  All aberrations must be purged. You know this. Pull yourself together and join with me.

  "I'm empty. I'm done."

  Raidon made to throw down the sword, but the Blade Cerulean overrode his intention. Instead, the weapon pointed up at the ceiling.

  Angul said, That is what we must defeat. Afterward you can collapse in upon yourself and embrace your weakness until death finds you..

  "I killed her!" the monk screamed. His voice rang out into the throne chamber. "I cut her down! It is something that can never be forgiven!"

  You did nothing that requires forgiveness. You did what was necessary. You cleansed an abomination, Angul offered.

  "No!" This last denial was offered at such a volume that a few aboleths flying in formation overhead twitched.

  Raidon briefly wondered why they weren't reacting to his presence. The effort of even that small question exhausted him.

  You must call upon the Cerulean Sign and join its power to mine.

  "I must do nothing."

  Several aboleths resting in wall berths pressed to the edges of their moist balconies. They fixed their eyes on the intruder. The flying creatures overhead maintained their litany, but many now fixed an extra eye or two on the raving half-elf below.

  "Time grows short. Will you compound your error by giving up now, rendering all your past actions a pointless charade?"

  "Yes. Because that is what they were. The last futile gasps of someone who should have perished in the Year of Blue Fire." Raidon tried again to fling the sword away and throw himself into one of the moving furrows that slid along the floor. His heart wasn't in it, though. The Blade Cerulean easily checked him.

  Four aboleths along the closest wall surged form their observation cavities, producing tiny waves of disturbed slime.

  None of them had apparently been graced with a connection to Xxiphu's orrery, for they slid down the walls like slugs dropped down the side of a garden wall. When they reached the floor, they squirted forward on a layer of ooze.

  The four creatures advanced on Raidon in a ragged line. Their tentacles gesticulated and lashed, as if doing so was the only way they could express their surprise at finding an invader in their midst. If surprise wa s even an emotion such creatures were capable of.

  Raidon was only vaguely aware of the onrushing threat. So when an orb of pulsing goo flashed toward his head, his body betrayed his fractured intentions and slipped to the side.

  A volley of similar attacks burst from the other three creatures. Already in motion, the monk whirled and rolled to avoid each attack. His somersaulting evasion melted into a charge, almost without Raidon's awareness. His trained muscle memory, once engaged, took over.

  One aboleth had gotten slightly out ahead of the others. When he reached the creature, it tried to heave itself backward, but Raidon transferred his momentum into a high leap. He came down upon the creature with a slashing elbow that smeared two of the creature's eyes into so much jelly.

  A hollow scream burst from its tri-slit mouth, and its lashing tentacles redoubled their frenzy. Raidon rolled off the creature's back to face its three siblings. Angul remained quiet and kept its power quiescent, as if it sensed that urging the monk to use its aberration- slaying edge could push the mentally unstable man back into his fit of apathy.

  The half-elf s face hardened into an expression of feral determination. Whatever else came to pass, the aboleths before him would rue challenging him. Though if they could not feel surprise, sorrow was also probably beyond their grasp. Raidon didn't much care, so long as he stamped them into nonexistence.

  Now that he was in motion, he found he preferred it to being still. Smashing his fist or shin into the flesh of a monster was far better than letting his mind dwell, over and over again, on all his many failures. There was sure to be time enough for self recrimination later.

  Or, if he was lucky, he would fail here in the bowels of the world and be dead.

  He would cherish the peace of death.

  Three abolethic minds reached for Raidon's and tried to leash it. Before, the monk's discipline had easily warded off alien instructions. But his mind was a stitchwork of barely knitted parts. The aboleths' mental strength easily curled into his brain and squeezed.

  Angul acted, as if the blade had been waiting for just such a contingency. With a blaze of cerulean fire, the webs of control burned away so quickly that the monk hardly realized he had been momentarily leashed. Certainly his charge into the left flank of the next closest monster didn't suffer any loss of ferocity.

  The monk, holding Angul in his right hand, executed a flying jab with his left fist. The momentum of his fist and body lent the blow the ferocity of a sledgehammer's strike. Even as the jab pounded home, he stepped out and to the creature's right with his left foot. He stepped back with his right foot, spinning into what would have been a back fist, save for the fact Angul was clutched in his right hand.

  The creature, already dazed by the jab and off guard from the monk's swift position change, didn't even realize its danger until after it was gutted by Angul. The spray of dark blood doused man and sword, but the Blade Cerulean's next flare burned them both clean again.

  One of the remaining two uninjured aboleths managed to slap Raidon with a tentacle. That time when the monk spun half around, it was because of the force of his enemy's attack. Stars briefly glinted around the edges of his vision. His breath sounded ragged in his lungs.

  The other aboleth, sensing an advantage, conjured an orb of slime out of thin air, then sent it slashing at the Shou. Already dazed by the tentacle, Raidon couldn't quite avoid the orb, which punched him in the chest. The ooze splattered him, coating him in a thin layer of mucus that instantly began to harden.

  Without realizing he reached for it, Raidon sought his focus.

  A monk of Xiang Temple trained first in the ability to concentrate and find an inner point where all thought was concentrated. Only after monks showed some ability to find a focus were they trained in the martial arts.

  Raidon visualized his body, and that immaterial part of himself that recognized itself as his working mind. He visualized his thoughts as lines of energy. Normally serene arcs, his thoughts were a thicket, more tangled and disordered than he could have imagined. He nearly gave up then, but habit took over. He imagined the lines smoothing, the knots loosening, and the wells of inner strength opening.

  He focused on his diaphragm, then expelled the air
in his lungs with an explosive "Kihop!"

  The mucus coating him shattered, and the energy of his own body flowed up his spine and into his limbs. It was a feeling he'd failed to embrace for far too long.

  His focus was back, at least partially. Some parts of his mind were in too much disarray for Raidon to fully regain what he'd trained so hard to master. But what focus he had was enough. It allowed him to access that which tattooed his chest.

  The Cerulean Sign blazed anew with a color akin to that of Angul. In its light, the aboleths around him shrunk back. For them, life would soon be over.

  However, the light served as a beacon. Every occupied cavity in the throne chamber's walls suddenly disgorged its owner.

  Well over a hundred aboleths slithered toward the floor and the lone Keeper that fought, if not for his life, then at least for the moment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Xxiphu, Throne Chamber

  Anusha led the pack. Japheth was right behind her, and Yeva and Seren brought up the rear. She. should have been fearless in her fleshless invis ibility. But she couldn't forget where the corridor she traveled led.

  Even as they'd swarmed up the tunnel, another mighty psychic tug had nearly pulled her, and Yeva along with her, into the mind where the root of her spirit lodged. Japheth had saved her and Yeva yet again. However, he'd wiped his brow afterward, and a worried look flashed across his face. He'd almost failed to hold them. The next time the Eldest tugged, she would probably be gone.

  Anusha tried not to think about it.

  Then they emerged into Xxiphu's throne chamber. All her fears were shown as hollow caricatures.

  A fierce conflict raged across the shifting floor. A swarm of aboleths thrashed and fought to collapse upon a figure who shone like a cerulean star. Sky blue light blazed from the man's sword, his chest, and even his eyes and fingertips. Everywhere the light struck, aboleths skirled in pain.

  But he was one against an army. And even as he fought the creatures to a standstill, the larger elder aboleths whirling around in their ritual overhead continued their unearthly chant.

  And the vast, many-eyed bulk that stared down from above seemed to gaze into her soul.

  Anusha couldn't tear away from the Eldest's awful visage to gauge her companions' reactions, though she heard someone gasp and Japheth voice a hoarse curse.

  Japheth said her name. She blinked and broke contact with the dead eyes overhead.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "What is the half-elf trying to accomplish?" asked Yeva. "To kill the Eldest," said Seren.

  The woman laughed. She said, "He'd better stop wasting his time with all the little ones, then, and start climbing."

  Japheth said, "Anusha, you and Yeva-help Raidon. You too, Thoster and Seren!"

  "I am not getting close to that thing!" said Yeva.

  "Help him with the swarm," said the warlock, exasperation obvious in his manner.

  "There are too many to fight," Seren said, one hand to her throat.

  "Perhaps, but see?" Japheth gestured at the scene. "The monk draws their attention with his symbol. The cerulean light maddens them. So, drive into their rear and cull them while they remain focused on him. Between the four of you and Raidon, you actually have a chance. Few things can stop Anusha or even see her, and the same is likely true for Yeva. And I've witnessed how potent your spells are, Seren, and how deadly you are with your blade, Captain."

  "And what will you be doing, warlock?" said Captain Thoster.

  "I have a ritual of my own to perform. It will take some time, so I need to start immediately."

  Japheth fixed Anusha with dark eyes. "I will see you free of this, I promise. But in the meantime…" He waved a hand toward the fight.

  Anusha nodded, not trusting herself to reply.

  Japheth flashed a smile, then stepped into his cloak. A moment later, he was gone. Anusha looked around, but didn't see him reappear. She wondered where the warlock had gone to perform his ritual. Hopefully to an out- of-theway nook.

  She turned to Yeva. "Should we take our revenge?" Yeva said, "Better to die fighting than hiding." "Yes."

  "Wait!" said Seren. The wizard traced symbols in the air with her wand. Where it passed, fading magical traces. followed. Arcane syllables tumbled from her lips. Her eyes took on a dull citrine glow.

  "All right, that worked!" said Seren, gesturing with her wand at Anusha and Yeva. "I can finally see both of you, which means I won't accidentally catch one of you in a spell."

  "I still can't," said Thoster.

  Seren ignored the captain.

  Anusha concentrated on her armor, imagining it even more impenetrable. She raised her sword, and imagined it so sharp it could cut a zephyr in two.

  Then she ran to join the fray.

  She sprinted across the changing floor. Quick as she was, a ball of wizard fire bloomed ahead of her, setting alight four aboleths at a single stroke. Good for Seren! She'd half expected the wizard to turn tail. But there were so many aboleths! At least the flying ones above hadn't yet engaged in the fight-not even the smallest, and thankfully not the largest. She was doubly glad, for among those chanting creatures, a few possessed a multitude of eyes like the aboleth able to see her in Xxiphu's depths.

  Anusha made contact with the enemy. Her blade swept through a creature with only the slightest tug. The aboleth died unaware anything had even threatened it. As it lay quivering and oozing dark fluid, she moved to the next. And the next. She whirled her sword around, maintaining its bitter sharpness with determined concentration.

  Pain pinched her temple. She was exerting her dream form. If she pushed herself, she would falter and perhaps fall. But if she did not give Raidon-and by extension Japheth-a chance to succeed the Eldest would wake, and nothing would hold back her mind from its concentrated consciousness.

  She renewed her onslaught, laying about with her dream blade like an avatar of death itself, even as her head began to pound with the ache of her unrelenting exertion.

  *****

  Seren's breath was harsh in her own ears. She was terrified, and her hands, wand, and voice trembled with each spell she launched. Thankfully the creatures reacted to her magical lances as Japheth had predicted. The horde of aboleths were single-minded in their attempt to fall upon the blazing monk like a slime tsunami. None of her spells had so far piqued the interest of the attacking creatures, even those on the periphery.

  Emboldened, she moved closer, until the rotting fish smell of the frantic aboleths became overwhelming.

  Where had the warlock gone? Seren wondered if, despite all his brave words,the man hadn't just used the cloak to transport himself away from the entire enterprise. She believed that was unlikely, despite what she might consider in his place.

  A bellow of triumph sounded in her left ear, and she flinched.

  It was Thoster, slashing the posterior of an aboleth too busy trying to scramble over its siblings to guard its flank. The wound was deep, but the aboleth died from the poison before its organs could even react to the fluid spraying from it. More so than before, she was glad she'd decided to aid the captain instead of kill him when he'd revealed his strange condition to her.

  Seren decided to expend a spell whose potency neared the height of her strength. She uttered the linchpin syllables and drew her wand around in the air just once. A fist-sized globe of white light hurtled into the mass of scrambling aboleths. Just before falling into their ranks, the globe detonated in a prismatic burst, spearing several at once.

  The creatures squealed as their flanks were scorched. Better yet, they reeled around in confusion as the dazzling radiance blinded them.

  A grim smile briefly touched Seren's lips.

  She recited another incantation.

  *****

  Before Japheth stepped from his cloak, he called again upon the utter darkness between the stars, whose hollow nothingness ate the light of neighboring constellations. He shrouded himself in
that same obscuring darkness, then stepped forward into the very center of the throne chamber, where the floor was stable. The petrified gaze of the Eldest was a palpable force overhead so potent it vibrated the air, creating deep tones like massive cemetery bells. The warlock was careful not to look straight up.

  Japheth took a quick survey to see if any creature was aware of his sudden appearance.

  The main fight still raged.

  The monk continued to harvest aboleths with his blade and Sign. Anusha, Yeva, Thoster, and Seren whittled away at the mass's flanks. The oldest aboleths continued their chant of waking. Japheth hoped he could begin and finish his ritual before they concluded theirs.

  From his cloak he removed a rod, a battered scroll, and a vial of powdered dragon scales. These were the same implements he'd earlier used in an attempt to free Anusha's mind from captivity, minus a tome that hadn't proved useful. And minus the ring wound with Anusha's hair. In the frenzy of their arrival and the breaking of his pact stone, he'd failed to retrieve it from the angel of exploration.

  Japheth hoped that Anusha's dream form itself would prove a better guide than loose strands of her hair ever could. He'd failed the last time he'd tried to free her, but only because the Dreamheart was not where her soul was rooted, as he'd mistakenly assumed.

  No, her consciousness was snared by the Eldest itself. If she should falter and wake even briefly, her mind would be pulled into the beast and be consumed in an instant, becoming part of it. His heart beat in his throat when he imagined it.

  A spectacular flare of light snapped his gaze back to the fight. Through the press of squirming aboleths, sky blue light blazed. Raidon had triggered some sort of exceptionally bright pulse from his chest.

  Ignore it, he told himself.

  Japheth pulled out the last two things he needed-the Dreamheart and the silver compact filled with his personal bane.

  He set the relic down, facing the half-lidded eye upward. The voices of the chanting aboleths circling overhead broke for the briefest of moments before resuming. Luckily, none swooped down to pierce the darkness and relieve him of their progenitor's prodigal eye. The creatures had felt the relic's sudden proximity, even if they couldn't yet see it. In some ways, the small orb at his feet was more vital than the entire bulk of the Eldest stretched overhead.