“Nishka…” he whispered.
She slowly came to a stop.
Hrioshango lurked on the periphery of the glen, looking warily at Nishka. The small figure was clothed in brown rags and a tattered hat upon its horned head. His large, green eyes peered through the darkness, and his fanged mouth curved in a smile.
His smile was not his customary grin; it looked far more treacherous.
“Ah… the humans,” he said in a wispy voice that didn’t quite seem his own. “Nishka and Arxu.”
The darkling’s presence perplexed Arxu and triggered alarms. He had magickally trapped Hrioshango in amber only seconds before the Defiler attacked. Perhaps a semblance of pride did not want anyone to take the fight away from him.
That being said, he watched the darkling with uncertainty.
“You did not think you could trap Hrioshango, did you…?”
If this was Hrioshango’s way of prefacing their murders, he was savoring the delicious moment. Arxu suspected from the beginning that the darkling would seize the first chance to eliminate him, but he hadn’t thought it possible.
“Hrioshango shall have his revenge!” he hissed venomously. “Hrioshango never forgive you! Never forgive Nishka! Rolling me around in my amber prison!” Suddenly, Nishka burst out laughing, the sound rolling over Arxu in relief. The mere image of the chaos magician rendered so helplessly brought a smile to her face, and Hrioshango writhed in fury. “Hrioshango has never been more humiliated! I will extract revenge on you and you will never know!”
“How is that?” Nishka asked, intrigued by the possibility of vengeance.
“Hrioshango is a chaos magician!” the darkling shrieked.
“So we’ve heard…” Arxu released a sigh as the darkling slinked back into obscurity. Nishka noticed that Arxu was more silent than ever before as they tiptoed through the forest. He stared vacantly into space, possibly glaring at the stars. Nishka nudged him softly.
“How are you coping?”
Arxu didn’t reply, looking absently around the forest. Something was intrinsically wrong with this place. The further he distanced himself from the ruins, the better he would feel. He could still feel the aftershock of encountering the Defiler. The mental shock of its nails driving into his abdomen made him feel vulnerable and weak…
Suddenly, he fell to his knees and hyperventilated. Pain jabbed his chest like needles in his lungs. He heard Nishka cry out in dismay.
“Arxu, stay with me! We’ll take you somewhere to rest soon!” He gripped Nishka’s hand painfully tight, as though releasing her would sever his one link to life. He managed to nod and endure a few steps more with her aid.
He couldn’t bear this suffering alone.
Beyond the borders of the forest, Nishka spied a lake in the distance below. The water rippled gently, coaxed toward the shore by a moon as pale as snow. Its ethereal tint seeped through the sands, blanketing the quiet beach in white frost. She continued to drink in the spectacle for a while longer, taken back by its beauty.
Arxu stalled as he looked upon the tranquil site.
“Look,” Nishka said. She indicated a small fishing vessel stranded on the shore, awaiting someone to claim ownership. “It looks abandoned,” she said, stating the obvious as if to justify what she was about to do.
She pushed the vessel into the lake and it almost sank with a gurgle. She suspiciously climbed into the boat, expecting the dark waters to envelop her in its icy embrace. Arxu was the last to board.
Hrioshango wielded a paddle and dipped it into the lake. The vessel cut rhythmically through the water without resistance, gliding like a feather on the breeze. The forest fringe swam past them as they drifted into the obscurity of the north. The horizon seemed no more ambiguous than black flames writhing in the wind. Nishka watched the flames form trees as the fog parted before them like a secret passage. She could not deny the mystique that nature had endowed that night. Suddenly, something caught her eye.
An eerie luminance winked below the surface of the water. The orbs followed their course like fireflies swimming in the lake. She studied the phenomenon, speculating about the nature of these deviant lights.
Hrioshango raised a cackle that chilled Nishka’s blood, a maniacal sound that usually portended something horrible.
Night was descending fast and the possibility of shelter was diminishing. Arxu desperately needed to sleep and recover from his wounds. He seemed disconnected from the world, gazing into space with a disgruntled expression. Nishka rested an assuring hand on his shoulder. He did not even acknowledge her touch.
The boat breached the shore, their nocturnal sojourn drawing to a close. Hrioshango tossed aside the paddle and leaped onto the beach. Nishka didn’t protest when he raced off into the darkness like an excited puppy. She regarded her wounded companion, his expression growing dimmer by the second. He barely lifted himself on his legs and he required her help to leave the boat. Nishka looked over her shoulder as the tide licked her ankles.
The strange lights lingered near the center of the lake. They didn’t follow them to the shore, as though wary of the strange man ferried across their lake—if the lights indeed belonged to creatures.
“Hrioshango!” Nishka called out. “Hrioshango!” Her cry for help went unanswered. She eventually gave up, assuming he wouldn’t offer much assistance with Arxu.
“Hrioshango has found a cave!” his voice called out. They spotted the darkling prowling among the trees. The mouth of a cavern loomed behind him with vines suspended like adders.
Without a final glance, the hermit gleefully marauded into the underground. Arxu took a step forward and Nishka watched him enter the cavern. The Nightwalker took a deep breath and steadied himself on a stalagmite. In the distance, he could hear Hrioshango laughing, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a thousand voices of insanity.
With a heave, Arxu reached out and felt his way through the cavern, his fingertips glossing over icy walls.
An exotic, subterranean world awaited him, delighted to engulf him in its depths. The tunnel air was so frigid that he believed he could feel ice crystals clinging to his lungs. The tunnels murmured around him. At last, his legs were too weak to walk anymore and he collapsed in a chamber where the walls were lined with quartz.
His fingertips kissed a cluster of crystals and they warmed to his touch. Purple radiance glistened across the cavern as shadows flocked like raven wings. Soothing warmth enveloped the chamber, transforming it into a virtual womb.
Arxu closed his eyes. His pulse slowed and his every breath echoed in the chamber. He seemed to be collecting magick essence from the stones. He absorbed the serenity, attuning his soul to the energies the crystals projected. He dangled by a thread of conscious…
“This is beautiful.”
Nishka wandered around the chamber, gazing overhead. The stones were limned with brilliance that rivaled the moon on a fair night. Nishka met his eyes for a few seconds, indulging in the silence.
“Arxu, when you look at me, what do you see?”
The stones cast an enchanting glow about her. Soft tones washed over her with spellbinding grace, lolling across her hair. Her eyes looked intense in the light, vibrant sapphires that made the crystals pale in comparison.
Arxu gazed at her with a dead stare.
“I see a woman.”
Nishka couldn’t deny the pain his answer inflicted. She dared to hope he would say “beautiful” or “lovely,” anything other than such a mundane description. She tried to conceal her disappointment but it was futile.
“Is that all?” She waited for him to say anything else, offering him a second chance to mend his mistake. Arxu looked nonchalantly at the ground as if he wanted to lie down and rest.
Nishka turned away, feeling embarrassed and angry with herself.
She left Arxu alone to contemplate the meaning of her question. Nishka often perplexed him. Arxu gazed at the crystals and he spied himself, a pale imitation of a human being. He reached
for his reflection in the stones and they winked out.
* * *
Invictus leaned forward with a gasp as Astalla’s voice pierced his mind. He held his breath and listened to the words flooding his mortal brain. He was not expecting so powerful an act of divine intervention. It overwhelmed his frail body.
Across the temple chamber, Ethan lifted his head from prayer. His eyes flickered across Invictus, sensing something amiss.
“What is wrong?”
His teacher remained silent, staring intently at the wall, quite visibly disengaged from all reality. Invictus served as the Elder Cleric of the Eternitas temple, reigning over its denizens for several decades. He was a man entering the resolution of his life, imprisoned in a body abused by time. Barely any hair adorned his mottled head. Clad in violet robes of silk, a red sash, and a signet ring of exquisite amethyst, he cut an impressive figure in his wardrobe. Though he would appear feeble, beneath his wrinkled exterior a strong determination burned within. He was the life of the temple, a man whose spirit could not be extinguished by age.
“The demigoddess is speaking!” he exclaimed. Ethan pounced to his feet. “I cannot decipher the words. I can only sense her feelings.” Invictus concentrated on the tone of her voice. “I can sense distress from the demigoddess.” Fear gleamed in his eyes and his voice dripped with concern.
“I am unable to receive her message. This has never happened before.”
“What shall we do?” Ethan asked his mentor. Invictus stroked his forehead as he began to feel a pain burn there. Dizziness set in and he did not dare move. He had communed with Astalla only once through a mental link initiated on her part. He did not understand why it would fail abruptly in the midst of another exchange. Years had passed since she last linked to his conscious.
“I need to rest,” Invictus said. “Perhaps when I wake I will have a clearer understanding of what Astalla intended to tell me.” Ethan nodded in understanding.
Invictus groaned and laid his head on a plush cushion.
Chapter 30
The cavern was plunged into darkness. In the grip of twisted shadows, Arxu could not even see his icy breath. His eyes were all but worthless in so black an abyss.
He touched the wall but the crystals would not ignite. The skin prickled on the back of his neck as he remembered stories of wanderers losing their way in caves. Deprived of light, an ordinary man’s grip on sanity would quickly erode. In these unholy grottos, the night was as infinite as it was cruel.
The first seeds of madness would take root in his brain in a matter of hours, its tentacles latching onto fear and feeding on frenzy. Symptoms of concern would wrack his body; his heart would flutter with panic, a tortured melody prompting his deepest terrors until every breath filled with a nightmarish scream. By the end of the night, he would be crawling on all fours like an animal, wallowing in his newfound asylum.
An ember of light began to take form in the freezing gloom. The stone atop Arxu’s staff flared to life, illuminating the chamber in a glossy film.
In control once more, he swiveled toward the tunnels. He sensed a large spike of energy from far below. Nothing natural could produce that level of power in an isolated cave. Few monsters were capable of magick, but he did not dismiss the possibility.
He knelt and placed his ear on the floor, its cold stinging his cheek. Something hummed there like the whisper of an earthquake. It sweetly beckoned Arxu, lulling him from his apathy. Infected with curiosity, Arxu swept out of the chamber in search of the mysterious anomaly.
He treaded through a shallow pool of water and weaved around the protruding stalagmites. The source was closer than he realized. He could palpably feel the aftershock in the air. Arxu paused near a fortress of limestone. Bony columns spiraled into the distance above him, posing like surreal icicles. A green glow peeked beyond the stalagmites, oozing out of an ancient corridor.
Arxu squinted for a glimpse into the tunnel, but the columns would not let him pass. The glow bore a striking resemblance to the tinted lights hovering in the lake. He could sense he was drawing near to the source. Determined not to fail, he searched for another route. A gaping tunnel awaited him, its cramped space magnifying every minute sound from the bowels of the cave. Every note rolled off the walls like a gurgle of thunder summoned from deep underground.
Suddenly, a searing brilliance met his eyes. He stepped out of the tunnel and feasted his eyes on a subterranean lake.
Concern erased whatever appreciation he held for the sight. Arxu scanned the bank and spied the disturbing source of power. Hrioshango lurked on the shore, engrossed in a shamanic ritual. He gestured excitedly above the waters glowing turquoise in the darkness. For a creature barely three feet tall, the shadow he cast was deceitfully gigantic. Hrioshango was blissfully unaware of the Nightwalker observing him.
He swept his hands through the air like an artist, and the water formed ambiguous shapes that writhed like snakes.
The energy he emitted was capable of bringing down the entire cavern if unleashed. Unknown to the Nightwalker, Hrioshango was preparing himself to slay Margzor.
His fanged mouth formed a gleeful smile. He could not predict the results of his ritual, but if all went according to his plan, he would emerge more cunning and powerful than ever. If not, he would likely end up dead.
“But such chances are necessary when reaching for greatness,” he spoke. “The risk of death is but a trivial concern when faced with desire.” And he desired greater things in life, not the meager existence of a criminal. “Everything I rightfully deserve will be mine when Margzor is dead.”
Suddenly, he spied the Nightwalker. He retreated a few steps from the lake, shocked into submission. The waters instantly calmed but remained alit.
“Where is Nishka?” Arxu demanded.
Hrioshango eyed him contemptuously. He wondered if Arxu knew what he was doing.
“Nishka isn’t here,” he hissed as he flashed a mocking smile. “She left.”
The lakeside offered little sanctuary from the cave. In fact, Nishka’s misery followed her out of the grotto and along the shore. She almost wanted to climb into the vessel and drift far away from Arxu. Let the mist-shrouded lake take her to a place where men didn’t exist. What drew her to Arxu in the first place?
He had shown her no emotional warmth or conveyed any romantic desire. She couldn’t remember when these feelings emerged, but she knew they grew the more time she spent with him. This only added to the confusion surrounding her life.
She felt safe around Arxu as much as she denied it, and loneliness tormented her when they were apart. He could not satisfy her emotional needs, but he did listen to her. Whether this was done merely out of duty or something deeper, she didn’t understand either. Her attempts at prying his emotions loose didn’t reveal anything.
She shook her head and suppressed a laugh. How silly emotions are, the plague of the human race. Yet, she could not deny he was unlike any man she ever encountered. The tide lapped serenely at the shore, making her feet tingle with the cold. Exhausted, she lay down in the sand.
She stroked the surface of the water. Absently, she began to scrawl her secrets in the tide with her fingers, the things she could never say to Arxu. Nishka shut her eyes and tried to focus on anything besides the Nightwalker.
Only a night ago, she had pressed her lips against his, breathing life into him when he lost the will to live. Suddenly, she realized he was awake and his eyes had opened. Even as the blood streaked down his face, he managed to say, “At least … at least I won’t die alone.”
He probably didn’t remember speaking those words. Nishka almost wanted to return to the cave and confront him about his commitment to her. She paced down the beach, determined to know. She broke into a run.
She had only reached the outskirts of the cave before hesitation crippled her. Sometimes ignorance is better than uncovering the truth.
Chapter 31
Men and women so accustomed to joy and laughter
now spoke timidly. They huddled together in the temple and offered each other what little comfort they could.
They would not sleep peacefully tonight with the threat of Astalla’s absence hanging over them. Her followers did not feel secure without her unconditional protection. Many begged for answers, but nothing would sate their questions.
Several clerics gathered in the prayer hall, separated from the worshippers.
“The faithful speak in hushed tones,” one of them said.
“I feel detached from my demigoddess. Have we fallen out of her favor?”
“What are you suggesting? That one of the faithful—Astalla forbid, several of them—have corrupted their flesh with temptation? Or worse, they have allowed their souls to become hedonistic and wicked?”
“Disgusting... How could they turn their backs on everything we have taught them? How could they betray our principles? Astalla shall never forgive us for our indiscretion.”
“Before you accuse anyone of succumbing to promiscuity, we should confirm that such sin has indeed occurred.”
“You are putting forth a very dangerous theory. One should consider all possible sources for this abandonment.”
“If it is truly abandonment,” a third cleric said, injecting himself into the conversation. “Elder Invictus and Ethan are split over the problem.”
“What matter has divided them?”
“Ethan seems to be under the impression that we are in danger. He is suggesting that Astalla may be warning us,” the aged cleric said. “Invictus has not yet come to a decision regarding the mental link that failed. He will reserve the benefit of the doubt before he rushes to any conclusions.”
“Ethan has only recently been ordained, and he is questioning the Elder Cleric’s judgment?” a priest scoffed.
“A schism in the religion would only worsen our situation. We must prevent it from ever coming to that.” They did not respond for a long period of time. One of the clerics, Valesius, glanced at the followers in the large chamber. They congregated in small groups, speculating about the dilemma.
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