Ayrmeis said nothing. He merely bowed, and released the chest’s clasp. The scepter would appear plain to those unaware of its purpose. Only the key housed within gave any hint to the intricacies of the divine weapon. When he lifted the key from its case, both the rod and key glowed, pulsing in synchrony with the beat of Ayrmeis’ heart.
Ayrmeis’ eyes shifted, first transitioning to completely black, then violet, and then returned to their usual pale appearance. With one fluid movement, he thrust the rod into the key of souls, forming the Scepter of the Divine. The weapon’s sudden illumination was blinding, causing everyone in the room to shield their eyes as the rod emitted a torrent of energy, suffusing his entire being.
His body shuddered from the divine energies, as his eye-coloring flickered, and he sucked in a sharp breath, receiving a more powerful connection than he’d ever experienced.
Ayrmeis stumbled back, catching his breath. Once the scepter bedimmed, he straightened his stance, facing Symeon. Resting his right palm over his heart, Ayrmeis said, “Blood of my blood.”
Symeon inclined his head, repeating the same. He admired the young warrior, doing his best to exude placidity. Ayrmeis was like a son to him, and Symeon dreaded what he’d soon face. Ayrmeis had chosen this, yet Symeon would’ve willingly acted in his stead had he possessed the power to wield the scepter. He recalled the images of this battle, and Ayrmeis’ suffering. Symeon was overwhelmed, and this coming confrontation plagued both his heart and mind.
“Loss is death,” Ayrmeis said, pulling him from the troubling thoughts. Symeon leaned down, nearly touching his forehead to Ayrmeis’.
“Jasiriaah,” they said in tandem.
With a nod, Symeon stood, meeting Ayrmeis’ eyes.
Ayrmeis didn’t move. He continued to stare, with his expression displaying both longing and apprehension. He needed something more, needed to say what was in his heart, but he didn’t want to appear weak or trepidatious. Ayrmeis’ lips quivered, struggling to form the words.
When nothing issued forth, Symeon drew him into a tight hug. No other words were required as he offered precisely what Ayrmeis needed at that moment. His eyes closed, drawing comfort and strength from that embrace.
“You’re more than a warrior to me, Ayrmeis,” Symeon whispered. “You are a son.”
Ayrmeis’ taut stance weakened.
“And you’re a father,” he said, allowing a hint of emotion to take him for the first time. He tightened his grasp on Symeon, and then released his hold, stepping away.
Tardison approached his brother then, raising his right palm. When their guardian marks met, the tingle of the connection was stronger than ever it had been. Ayrmeis would need his brother’s strength: a shared energy to pierce the darkness.
The brothers closed their eyes, becoming a part of the other. As the light encasing them dimmed, they released a heavy breath.
“We are connected, Brother,” Tardison breathed. “I’ve combined my strength with yours, merging us as one. I’ll feel that which you feel. Your thoughts and experiences will be my own. We’ll pierce this darkness together.”
“Together,” he said, embracing Tardison.
“It is time,” Ahvixx said, as his eyes began to glow. “Raithym is nearing the clearing.”
“You won’t harm him?” Zeta pleaded, clutching Danimore. “Promise me that you won’t harm my son.”
Ahvixx paused, glancing over his shoulder. “We seek only the wraith, Lady Benoist, not your son.
The audience hall fell silent after the heavy doors clanged shut behind Ahvixx and Ayrmeis. The room seemed vacant with only the siblings, their spouses and a few Jasiri within.
Tardison couldn’t remain still, continuously pacing with his boots clicking with every step. That sound seemed to resonate unendingly from the stone walls.
Temian walked to Tardison’s side, gently clasping his arm. “Ayrmeis has been prepared, and your connection will strengthen him. He will return to us.”
At that, Tardison nodded, forcing a smile. He wanted to believe what Temian said, but Raithym was on the isle. He was his eldest cousin and Tardison loved him. Although Mah’saahc had possession of him, it was still Raithym, and Tardison’s concern extended to him as well. This was a battle without a true victor, or at least it seemed that way to him. He prayed for both his brother and his cousin.
But only one could be victorious.
♦
As Ayrmeis climbed the stairs leading to the roof, Ahvixx turned, feeling his apprehension. “Allay your fears, Ayrmeis, you’re a paladin of light. You’ve chosen this path as have I, and together we’ll pierce this darkness. Do not allow fear or dubiety a place in your heart. No matter what you must soon face, the power is within you to conquer it. Together with Tardison, we’ll protect the lands and restore the seal.”
Ahvixx reached forward, lifting Ayrmeis’ hand to expose his Guardian Mark. “The Guardians’ essence suffuses us.”
Offering a nod of readiness, Ayrmeis advanced to where the Protectors waited.
“Ke’ohnzi,” Arinak began. “K’aun ein’ zan’ner ,” [107] he said, motioning to his Desu Beast.
“T’och de’ ze’bahn,” [108] Ahvixx said, bowing.
Baldon helped Ayrmeis mount Náelon as Arinak provided escort for Ahvixx. The Protectors lowered their helms, initiating the merge.
“Baatheer , Xandi, Baatheer !” [109] Arinak called out. The massive Desu Beast’s claws raked the ground while releasing a loud screech. One by one, the beasts raced across the rooftop to the citadel’s edge. Extending her wings, Xandi soared through the air, with the crowned eagle at her side.
Xatari Mountains
The Ohor’s crimson eye pulsed, as the cascading falls glistered, revealing the Threshold of the Xatari Mountains. As she stepped through the distortion, she bowed, seeing Malachi awaiting her arrival.
“Greetings, Drah’kuu,” she said, respectfully resting a hand over his heart. Malachi returned the gesture, scrutinizing the peculiar woman.
“You are the Cyiir of Ohor?” He asked. “There was another who held the honor when last we met.”
Cyiir raised a hand to her heart, inclining her head. “He is yet with me, Drah’kuu, as all Cyiirs are.”
“Why have you come?”
“Is this not known to you?”
“Much is known to me; yet more is not. I’d hear your words rather than speculate what might lie in your many hearts.”
She grinned. “It was time,” was all she said, reaching into the pocket of her robe. Bringing forth five dark and shiny stones, she handed them to Malachi.
“Miir stones?”
“A gift for you, Drah’kuu, and those of Syahndru.”
He gazed at the like stones dangling from the Ohor’s braids, and then back to the ones he held. A palliative warmth exuded from the smooth black stones, and each had a small indention in their center. He held them up, allowing the rays cascading into the cavern to bedight the stones, casting shimmering waves and shifting patterns across the corrugated surfaces. The images and patterns continued to morph, producing luminescent scenes that spanned epochs and realms. Many Malachi could recall. Others had not yet come to pass.
“It has been long since I’ve looked upon Miir stones. The last delivered to K’ohshul were cast into the Black Water. That time has long past.”
“The Ohor understood why the Drah’kuu elected to forswear not only the stones, but us as well. But such severance would be detrimental to us now. With the stones of Miir, the link can be established. Those of K’ohshul, Syahndru, Shadow Frost, and the Fire-Lands can call upon us.” She paused, staring into the aged Drah’kuu’s milky eyes. “And call to each other.”
Malachi motioned her forward.
“These Miir stones will be a blessing, not like the stones of old,” he said.
“Those were different times and with a different Cyiir. We must again align, as the realms must. The darkness comes, Drah’kuu, and there can be no separation of peopl
es.”
“This is why we’ve been preparing,” he said, halting on the suspended earthen bridge.
“As do we. In this, all will be needed, including the brothers Xaahn and the Tresahnege.” She handed him a phial, studying his expressions.
A look of recognition found his face, observing the thick orange and red liquid clinging to the phial’s side, releasing a swirling black mist.
“The Firewalkers?” Malachi breathed.
“Yes. This, too, will be needed. I’ve visited the Fire Lands and retrieved the magma,” she said. “He who leads the T’reGuhn will have need of this as well. Unlike those of the darker realms, his puissance and thew will be unequaled. You shall prepare his body as the Guardians prepare his mind.”
“Ahgelon? I communed with him after his son departed. He spoke nothing of the magma.”
“Ahgelon was aware of my coming, but not the reason as to why. The magma is from him, and he awaits, as do his people. Once Déshì Tân is prepared, he and Weisheng will join you here.”
“Why do you aid in this? The Ohor rejected the mortals and crossed into the Otherlands. Your past Cyiir spoke of the evils here, and mortals infecting that which was once pure.”
“The humans are no threat to what we are, or what we’ve always been. These darker beings are the true threat. With Mah’saahc’s manipulations, others have awakened. The Ohor will stand as we once did, assisting in the defeat of these otherworldly creatures.”
“The Guardians are aware, and continue to prepare those able to withstand and defeat the maleficence.”
“This is true, Drah’kuu. Yet the Guardian’s power is diminishing. They will never be whole while they remain here. They must return to the spirit realm.”
“Their power is absolute,” Malachi countered. “If not for that power, your passage through the thresholds would’ve been unfettered. The thresholds were shielded from your intrusion and can be so again.”
The Ohor bowed with that truth. “The Guardians are the Gods of these lands, and many others. Albeit, the forms they inhabit limit their abilities.”
“This is an accepted corollary for the protection of Faélondul,” he said, continuing to a fountain playing melodiously in the courtyard of the levitating knoll.
“I’ve been traversing the thresholds of the many lands,” Cyiir said. “Faélondul is where this darkness is focused. The blood of Oisin has caused Z’brachieyn and others to stir. They await Mah’saahc’s victory. Once the wraith is free, she’ll release the Zon’Tuls into the lands.”
Malachi met her eyes, saying nothing. He’d been there the last time the Ohor aided in the protection of the realms. Now, he was to face this ancient enemy as the Drah’kuu before him had. Malachi wasn’t certain of his abilities to protect the thresholds as his predecessor had done. This was the beginning, but he’d grown weary.
The eidolon’s essence would incessantly seek to be freed, and those of the lands would continue to unwittingly aid in that pursuit. With the awakening, the darkness permeated the hearts and minds of many. If that could be so for one of the Guardians protected, it could be so for all.
He shook those truths away, facing her again. “Mah’saahc hasn’t gained victory. Ayrmeis pursues her now as we sit here contemplating what has yet to come.”
“The Ohor prays he will be victorious, but Ayrmeis has much to overcome before it can be so. He’s but a child, though he knows not. Once they arrive on Sanctium, he’ll learn the truth of what he must face, and what he alone must do.”
“Ayrmeis will overcome. He is the Guardians’ paladin.”
“As his father was before him.”
Malachi shook his head. “Symeon Yego is Ayrmeis’ father. He’s the son of the Uzon of Nazil.”
“And he has prepared him well. The Protectors have taken their place in Nazil beside the Ke’ohnzi.”
“Is this why you’ve come? For the battle?” He stated more than asked.
“‘Tis but one reason, Drah’kuu. Kuhani will need the molten blood of the Fire Lands when he returns. It must be combined with the essence and infused with his own blood.”
Malachi nodded as he stood. “We are honored, Ohor.” He bowed. “The Guardians knew of your coming, and this is why I welcomed you.”
“They granted me passage as well. The threshold in Afferea will remain open to me.”
Ohor’s eye pulsed, sending prickles down her spine. “It is time.”
Malachi motioned toward the cavern, reaching in the deep pockets of his robes. Bringing forth a handful of sparkling dust, he tossed it into the trickling falls. The waters movement began to slow as the last of the melodic tones resonated through the air.
“Becka vecoovah aut k’ahndelae, xutuihn pahn’tah suk vis’vohn ,” [110] Malachi recited.
The surface of the still water wavered until an image of Sanctium appeared. The Ohor stepped forward, moving to his side.
“It begins.”
Sanctium
The leopard of the sky screeched, joining the Desu Beast’s flight. In perfect formation, the beasts banked right, fully extending their wings. As they approached Sanctium, a sallow, swirling miasma emanated from the barren tract of land positioned in its center.
None of the Protectors spoke, allowing their connection with the beasts to communicate their commands. In synchronicity, the beast’s wings shifted, changing their trajectory.
Once they’d soared over the bordering trees, an ear-piercing shriek reverberated around them. The isle’s center appeared to waver, like a tumultuous tide, battering against the shore. The unnatural strangeness and unearthly manipulations intensified the nearer they drew to the source of the disruption.
Xandi’s third eye pulsed, as she shifted in the air, leading the aerial armada. After circling the isle’s center, Xandi tucked in her wings, diving with angled precision. Her screeching approach deliberately drew Lilinth’s and Raithym’s attention, and both halted, issuing otherworldly caterwauls.
As the beasts began their descent, Lilinth reverted to her natural cadaverous form, reciting an incantation. Pallid, smoky tendrils snaked around her clawed feet as the crowned eagle plunged beneath the fog with a spear-like thrust, slashing with his obsidian talons. The mage stumbled back, bringing her arms up to block the fevered assault. She scratched at the eagle’s neck and face, unable to see past the tarry blood oozing from the numerous wounds it had already inflicted. Lilinth squawked a baleful retort, lifting into the air, and batted at the ferocious predator.
When the Protectors dismounted their beasts, taking strategic positions near the clearing, the crowned eagle delivered a final, vicious slash before retreating into the skies. The crest on Arinak’s helm brightened and he halted, receiving the Protector’s communication.
“K’ohn ein zan’ner,” [111] Arinak said, drawing his Guardian staff.
Beyond the tree line, an obnubilating residue bathed the clearing, with swirling particles from the aperture, swathing Raithym. Here, Mah’saahc could break the seal, freeing the Zon’Tuls.
Signaling for Ahvixx and Ayrmeis to proceed, the Protectors rapped their staffs on the ground, sending pulses of energy gyrating beneath their feet. With each subsequent strike, the ashen haze began to subside, lifting like a fog wafting out to sea.
“You’re too late,” Raithym sneered, turning around to face them.
Simultaneously, the Protectors completed the seventh strike, and tilted their heads skyward. An eruption of amethyst light suffused the coppice, and then swirled around its edge before merging in its center. At once, the Guardian staffs illuminated, discharging glittering rays, and the Protectors issued shrieking retorts to the eidolon.
Ayrmeis was awestruck, witnessing the seven radiant streams intersect, forming an arc above the clearing. The ground rumbled beneath their feet, pulsing rhythmically in concert with his heart.
He stared at Raithym, fighting the maelstrom of emotions inundating both his heart and mind. He’d chosen to wield the scepter, to pierce th
e darkness, but that’s not what he saw before him. This wasn’t some abysmal creature or eidolon. This was his cousin, and he loved Raithym with every fiber of his being.
Ayrmeis turned a questioning gaze to Ahvixx, but before he could speak, Ahvixx’s nonverbal response pervaded his mind. For a moment, his stance faltered, acclimatizing to the fervent connection. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to still his muddled thoughts and allow their merge.
* “The Protectors won’t move again until the battle has ended,” Tardison said. Everyone in the audience hall nearly leap from their seats, as Tardison began speaking, yet stood rigid, resembling more an effigy than a man.
“You mustn’t interfere,” Turahn said, noticing Pentanimir approaching his son. “No one may touch or attempt to speak with Tardison. The Guardians have merged both Ayrmeis and he with the Ke’ohnzi. Tardison will experience every aspect of Ayrmeis’ battle on Sanctium. His words, movements, thoughts, and emotions will mirror those of Ayrmeis.”
Tardison’s Guardian mark glimmered with the brother’s fortifying connection.
Rhythmically crossing one hand over the other, Tardison’s movements were fluid, as if rotating a weapon in his hands. *
“Oisin,” Lilinth hissed, pointing a crooked finger toward Ayrmeis.
He assumed his warrior posture, gripping his weapons for an attack. Instead, Lilinth circled Raithym, sending plumes of billowing dust into the air as she chanted, contorting her maw to spew forth a viscus miasma.
Slithering fibrils erupted from the barren ground, metamorphosizing into corporeal form. The crooked fiends were horrid: thrawn and disfigured. Their ashen, scabrous flesh appeared luminous, even in the brightness that surrounded them. With glaring, wan eyes, they leered at the two men, awaiting their mother’s commands.
Lilinth released an exasperated shriek, her mouth elongating as if the jaw had no hinge. Ayrmeis’ heart leapt in his chest, as the score of winged imps took flight at their mother’s side. Casting a glance at Raithym, Ayrmeis shook his head, focusing on the impish demons beginning their charge.
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 164