Kingdom Come

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “Alright. Phew.” I shook my hands out, then spread my arms out. “Ladies and gentlemen, ghouls and gods, behold! The amazing flying Hector Park! Hold my beer on the count of three. One, two… two-and a-half… three!”

  I put my hands over my head and willed myself to fall off, like jumping off a diving board – head-first, because I didn’t have to think about it any longer than I needed to.

  The well swallowed me like an open mouth. The wind whipped over my body, a rushing chorus of hisses and whispers. I braced to smack into the ground, but the ground never came. There was nothing as I plummeted: a hundred feet, two hundred. After close to a minute of free-fall, I began to start worrying that the game had somehow fucked up. I barely felt like I was falling at all. Curious, I spread my limbs out like a skydiver and felt out with my hands. There were no walls to touch. There was no sensation at all, other than the sound of my own heart and an all-consuming, frigid cold nothingness. The feeling was familiar – it was like when I had teleported on the back of the Knight-Commander’s dragon back in Ilia.

  The sensation of falling was replaced by a feeling of rising up, and then a flash of light as I tumbled out of a round horizontal portal and rolled to a stop on a hot stone floor. There was a low grinding sound from far below, like a waterfall of gravel. The room was plain, softly lit by violet-white mage lamps burning steadily along the walls. There was a doorway ahead. A slim woman made of shadow waited there for me. She was faceless, her form billowing off into the air like vapor.

  “Hail to you Herald.” Her spectral voice was the hissing whisper of dry leaves sliding over one another, dry and sweet. “Hail to you, Paragon of the Triad.”

  Chapter 38

  “Uhh… Paragon of the what?” I held the Spear low and ready, the end braced against my hip. The woman’s voice sounded oddly familiar, but I couldn’t place where I knew it from.

  The specter bowed her head. She was as tall and slim as a willow, with ankle-length hair that swirled around her like a cloak of flickering black fire. Without replying, she turned and vanished through the door. I blinked a couple of times, then warily followed.

  The corridor beyond the chamber was a tunnel cored out of pure obsidian, lit only by the blinding white exit at the other end. I touched the wall with a bare hand, and it hummed against my skin. It was hot down here, almost oppressively so. I wasn’t sure, but I was pretty sure the rumbling sound was magma… and sure enough, at the end of the tunnel was a great volcanic chamber. A mana-infused crystal bridge spanned high over a seething, glowing pit of lava far below. I looked up to see beams of light streaming in through a naturally formed ceiling, the sealed caldera of the mountain where I stood. The ghostly woman waited for me on the other side of the bridge, standing in front of a massive door made of wrought gold and silver forged to look like a cherry blossom, with five petal-like segments surrounding a pentagram-shaped core. It was big enough to admit the Warsinger.

  “Holyyyy shit.” I started up the bridge, barely believing what I was seeing. “It’s a motherfucking Dragon Gate.”

  “No.” The shadow-woman's voice whispered through the air, ruffling over my skin. “As I once told you, the Dragon Gates are vast wells of mana, the stuff of magic. We knew them as the Great Wellsprings. The Drachan used them to travel from the last world which they ravaged to this world. Our world. The world of Archemi."

  Suddenly, the voice clicked.

  “Wait. I know you. You’re the Narrator, from the first cut-scene I was shown… before I even reached character creation.” The hairs on my neck and arms rose as I crossed the lava and came to a stop in front of the woman. “You showed me the Drachan. You told me about the Caul of Souls.”

  “Yes,” she replied sadly. “It is I.”

  “What is this place?” I looked past her to the seal, then around the rest of the chamber.

  “A mirror.” The woman gestured gracefully to the soaring vault above us. “In the age of the Dragons, the Solonkratsu built great cities all around the world. By speaking the names of the stone, they could create and destroy mountains, shaping and beautifying them. The greatest of them was here, Herald. The city of Hava Sahasi."

  "Hava Sahasi," I repeated softly.

  "I was queen of this city. Lahati the Black and White, the Chrysanthemum Queen, beloved of Matir, Mistress of all the Words of Life and Death, Guardian of the Great Wellspring," the shade intoned. "This city was the domain of my bloodline. It spanned from the Tashkars to the Sea of Swords, from the Brontan Range to the borders of what is now Napath. Such was the scope of Hava Sahasi."

  “Wait.” I drew a sharp breath. "Are you telling me that the entirety of Myszno was a city? One city?"

  "Yes: a city serving ten thousand Solonkratsu, fifty thousand Tulaq, millions of Meewfolk and Aesari... a great city teeming with prey and artistry and trade. Until one day, the sky darkened, and the Great Wellspring began to disgorge horrors into our world," the shade replied. "As soon as the first Trauvin dragged itself from the Great Wellsprings, our fate was sealed. We fought, Herald. Oh, how we fought. With tooth and claw, our magic and our breath. Rival clans forged binding pacts. We birthed the Mercurions from sand and steel, breathed life into them with mana, and pitted them against the Drachan and their armies of the dead. We stole their technology, improved it, and turned it against them. We stole their twisted souls and bent them to the yoke, using them to power great war machines. But none of it was enough. In the end, there was only one way to defeat them. The sacrifice of our gods."

  The shade flickered, blowing away on the wind. There was a deep ‘crunch’ from somewhere in the chamber, and then the door began to rumble. The petals twisted away as they drew back, the core sinking down into the stone. Beyond it was an antechamber, where another, dragon-sized door gleamed. A black and white door, half of it forged from meteoric iron, the other half from gleaming platinum. I lifted my head and walked toward them, and as I mounted the steps, the doors opened on silent hinges into… nothing. The space beyond seemed to suck the light from the air.

  "The Nine made their sacrifice willingly. It was their suggestion, in fact,” The Narrator’s voice curled around my ears as I steeled myself and entered, boots ringing off hard stone. “They knew that if we did not win this battle, that we would end up like the Drachan's last conquest. Dead. Desiccated. Extinct."

  The corridor ended in a third door, which opened out into great mirrored chamber the size of a small stadium. The ceiling and walls were curved but faceted, shaped like a geodesic dome, lit by a diffuse white light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The floor was a great, smooth, featureless plane, impenetrably black and as smooth as glass. The shade was waiting for me in the center of this final chamber, her back turned, her hair dancing in an unseen wind.

  "The first Dragon Gate was built over our Great Wellspring: here, in Hava Sahasi,” she continued. “Four thousand years ago, Veles, the father of the gods, climbed the grand steps and walked into his tomb with his head held high. Then the Triad came forth - Paragon, Artist, Warsinger - accompanied by the greatest of the Aesari’s maegi. They sealed Veles’ sarcophagus with their bond and that Spear you carry, and with it, they sealed the fate of my city. The world moaned as Hava Sahasi and its wellspring was pulled from the earth like a rotten tooth and lifted into the sky. Every Drachan was bound into the magic of the forming Caul, but it resulted in the city’s complete, utter destruction. Thus is the story of the raising of the first Dragon Gate, the Gate of Serene Eternity, to the airless space between Archemi and Erruku. Thus did Veles create the framework of the Caul of Souls, and ensured that no Drachan could ever reach him to destroy it."

  “That’s why Myszno looks like a big hole in the ground.” I said, thinking back.

  The shade turned to face me, her shadowy hair twining around her slender body. Even with her features obscured by the rippling umbra, she was unearthly. "In the great gaping socket left by the raising of Hava Sahasi, I mourned all I had lost and all there was to
lose. For my lover, the God of Darkness and Life, was next to be entombed. I climbed the steps with him. I held him by the throat and drowned him in his sarcophagus, holding him under the black waters of the Gate of Endless Night. In the stories, it is Matir who weeps and rages for the death of Lahati. In truth, it is Lahati who wept for Matir. It was she who raised flaming mountains with her magic as she flew over the ruin of her world, alone. Inconsolable. In the end, I begged the Triad to entomb me as they had my mate. To bring me mercy, to build a mirror of Matir’s tomb so that we might gaze at one another from across the land where we had flown and loved and hunted. As my hearts broke, I ordered them with my dying breath to spread the word that this place, where you now stand, is the Gate of Endless Night. I ordered it so that those seeking Matir’s Gate might be misdirected.”

  [You have discovered a new location: Lahati’s Tomb.] Even my HUD narrator sounded solemn.

  “I see.” I massaged my cheeks, sniffing as heat gathered in my face. I wasn’t going to cry over a game, dammit. "I... I don't understand why I’m here. What's a Paragon? What's the Triad?"

  "The Starborn Triad are the guardians of the Dragon Gates and the Caul of Souls." The shade began to drift toward me. "It is formed of three aspects and six individuals. The first aspect is that of the Paragon, the symbiosis of a Queen dragon and her Bonded rider. The Paragon is charged to bear the burden of the Spear of Nine Spheres, the key to each of the Dragon Gates. The burden of the Spear is too great for any mind to bear alone, and so the Paragon is not one being, but two united as one."

  She reached out and beckoned. On instinct, I held out the Spear. The shadowy fingers caressed the haft, chilling it.

  "The Artist is also a dual aspect: a pair of bonded Artificers. The first Artists were Aesari… it is they who created the Gates, who forged the Spear, and built the Warsingers. They are the traditional keepers of the blueprints to the dungeons which protect each Gate." Her voice was soft and sad now. "The third aspect is the mantle of the Warsinger. It was the Warsingers who turned the tide against the Drachan and bought us the time to create the Caul. Each of the ten Warsingers contains the malevolent spirit of an Elder Drachan, who is bound by the blood of the pilot. They must be a warrior of great courage with a will beyond measure. They protect the Paragon and the Artist in their endeavors and rally the world against evil, for they are a truly awe-inspiring presence. You have met one of the machines already… Nocturne Lament, the first Warsinger. The smallest and weakest.”

  “That thing was small and weak?” I stifled a small sob.

  “Compared to the others? To Killing Frost, Withering Rose, Black Mercy? By far.” She bowed her head. “Nocturne Lament was set to guard the Sepulcher of Heroes, the tomb where my slain warriors were laid to rest. My restless return from death must have awakened it. As you discovered, the Sepulcher has a secret portal to this place. We are no longer near Krivan Pass, as you might have gathered. We are far, far to the north.”

  Frowning, I nodded. “Right. But to be honest with you, I really don’t know if I’m a Paragon of anything.”

  Lahati regarded me with the poise of a dragon in human form: her neck long and graceful, her head held high. “I sensed your desire, your nature and your purpose from the moment you came to incarnate here, Starborn. The wheel has turned, and the Triad is needed. You are the Paragon of the current age, Dragozin Hector… you and your Queen."

  "...Of the current age?"

  "There have been five Triads throughout Archemi's history," the shade said softly. "You already know of one of them. Sachara Ha'Shazir the Demon Queen, pilot of the Warsinger, Withering Rose and Empress of the Shalid. Her Artists were Phaedra and Zarya, rightly regarded as the finest Artificers in the history of the Mercurions. And the Paragon… you have heard of him, I suspect. He was none other than Grigori Skyrr, an escaped slave and the first human to ascend to the position of Paragon. He Bonded with Lirenian the Diamond Queen, the Breaker of Chains, who helped him emancipate humans from their Aesari masters. She was my great-granddaughter."

  "Lirenian was your descendant? That means my dragon is related to you. Her mother is-"

  "Usta the Dawn Pearl… the Queen of Tears. One of only three Queens of my blood left in this world, including your own Karalti." The shade stepped back, her form whispering and hissing, and then sunk into the floor and vanished. "I know... I know Usta’s fate all too well. My spirit has watched over all my descendants, every queen and every daughter and son they have borne."

  The floor brightened beneath my feet, and when I looked down, my eyes widened. It wasn’t stone at all – it was glass.

  Lahati the Chrysanthemum Queen was perfectly preserved, like a fly in amber. She looked as if she was sleeping, her foreclaws curled against her muzzle, her long hind legs drawn up, one wing half-covering her face. Her scales were a pure, glossy black, save for a large white starburst at the base of her long, swan-like neck. Seven magnificent horns decorated with jeweled platinum and gold rings swept back from a long, elegant skull. Even in death, Lahati the Chrysanthemum Queen was regal, graceful... beautiful.

  “The Triad returns to the world when the gods stir in their tombs,” Lahati’s voice whispered from all directions around me. “And as Matir has awoken from his restless sleep, so have I. That is not a good thing, Herald. That we are roused means that the Caul's magic has lessened. There is only one way that could have happened. The Drachan have found themselves an Avatar."

  "They have." I drew a deep, steadying breath, unequipped my cleated boots, and walked out into the chamber in bare feet. It was about three hundred feet around, larger than the Warsinger. Lahati almost filled the entire space below. "One of the Architects has incarnated here. He was known as Ororgael, and now as Baldr. Baldr Hyland. He wants to rule an empire."

  "And the Drachan will give it to him. That is how they earned their name in my tongue, ‘Trauvin’. The Deceivers." Lahati said. "The Trauvin weave falsehoods as easily as breathing, layering deception upon deception. In truth, they only have one desire - to consume. They are neither alive nor dead, but un-alive; life is an affront to their very existence. They will gladly hand this Baldr Hyland his empire, and when the world has no protection left, they will slowly devour him and his works. For it is his suffering they shall relish the most.”

  "He’s an Architect, though." I asked. “He helped create the Drachan, along with everything else.”

  Lahati sighed: a soft, fluted sound. "The Drachan have exceeded the Architect’s designs in ways they could not imagine or predict. But I cannot dwell on it… ask other questions of me."

  I crouched down, gazing at the entombed dragon's face. Up close, I could see that her muzzle was sunken and atrophied, but it only made her beauty more haunting. "Myszno is being invaded, your Majesty. By-"

  "Ashur of the Ten Thousand Swords." She breathed the word like a curse.

  "You know him?"

  "The land speaks his name. He was Lirenian’s bane." Lahati replied. “But he is even older than she. Ashur was a contemporary of mine.”

  “He’s that old?” I pressed a hand to the smooth floor. “Why would he be here after all this time?”

  “His story is bound with the history of humankind in Archemi,” she said. “The Shalid used to be a great jungle ruled by the Meewfolk. But when the Drachan came, they turned the vibrant queendoms of the Meewfolk into a desert wasteland with their magic and artificing. They enslaved the catfolk alongside the humans they had brought with them from another world, and fielded terrible machines that sucked mana from the bodies of their screaming thralls. As the War plowed on, many slaves escaped their clutches, founding nations in the high mountains of Tungaant in Daun and the abandoned deserts of the Shalid here, in Artana. The first and the mightiest human civilization was the enlightened kingdom of Napath. They seized and held one of the few green places in the Shalid, nursing their civilization along the Iteru River delta. They were able to bring together the quickness of humans, the wisdom of the dragons, the
ambition of the Aesari, the diligence of the Mercurions and the honor of the Meewfolk into a single nation. The Napathu commanded words of healing and restoration, the only humans to ever have done so. They were truly great, our neighbors and friends.”

  “But…?”

  “But when the Dragon Gates were built, Paragon, the burden of their creation was great upon the world. The Gates which were to become the tombs of Veles and Matir were made here, in Hava Sahasi. Veles consumed the mana of the Great Wellspring and took it with him when the Gate rose to the stars, and so the mana for the Gate of Endless Night had to come from somewhere. It came from the oceans, the mountains, and inadvertently, the land of Napath.”

  I made a face. “Oh.”

  “My lover's passing drained and warped the land for a thousand miles. Their fertile delta withered and Stranged, turning the rivers to poison. In their desperation, the great Maegi of Napath tried to use their magic to save their land, but the Words of Life were twisted by Matir’s passing from this world. They tried to suck the mana back from the hungry Dragon Gate, but their magic sucked the life from them instead. It Stranged them into undead abominations. The Maegi perished, then rose as wights, liches and vampires, becoming the Breathless. They renounced the Nine and spat on their memory, and they have never forgiven the dragons for our role in the creation of the Gates. Rather than move on from their tragedy, they perpetuate it… they use the life force of living beings to replenish their mana and continue their wretched unlife. But if the Drachan have an able herald of their own, then surely the Caul is unbalanced. Matir’s gate draws ever more strongly on the land. They cannot maintain the mana they need to exist."