Loss and Sacrifice

by Andrew Day

armour stepped through its shimmering surface, and joined the ranks of the very large group now forming in the courtyard.

  The two opposing groups faced each other, then raised their weapons, and charged. As he fought, Altian saw that for every creature they killed, another seemed to emerge from the portal. In fact, the portal seemed to start spewing out creatures at a faster rate, perhaps spurred by the fighting before it.

  Then came a loud defiant cry, and the General, bloodied and wounded, came charging through the gate, sword held high, with the remaining numbers of the Lok’Chang quickly behind him. The new arrivals washed into the courtyard, and soon the fight became more fierce and violent. The portal shot out new creatures at a fantastic speed.

  The General appeared beside him. His clothes were drenched with blood, but he showed no signs of letting up.

  “Altian!” he screamed. “Take your men into the fortress! Find that god damned Shen-Xin!”

  “There are too many,” Altian replied.

  “There will always be too many! We can hold them, but you have to find it. You looked at those damned scrolls more than anyone. Where would it be?”

  “The tower,” Altian said. He cut through a dog beast, and pointed up at the tallest tower of the fortress.

  “Can you find your way up there?”

  There had been numerous scriptures that each gave a fairly poor description of the fortress’s interior. Altian had memorised them all. Separate, they were useless, but perhaps when read together...

  “Yes,” he answered with confidence.

  “Then go, damn you. GO!”

  Altian turned, dropped and rolled beneath a pouncing dog beast, and ran as fast as he could towards the keep of the fortress. Along the way, he gathered up any of his men that he could find, but the numbers of his division that remained were now horribly low. He rallied six others, and ran for the tall stone stairs that led along the wall of the keep to one of the higher levels.

  He leapt up the stairs two at a time, his men pounding up after him. Behind them, a group of creatures broke off from the main body and charged after them in pursuit. Up ahead, Altian spotted the dark doorway that led into the fortress. He increased his pace. Just before he entered, he paused and shot one final glance back.

  The last remaining Lok’Chang were fighting furiously for their lives. Enemy creatures flew from the portal in a never ending torrent. They were losing more fighters then the enemy were.

  With grim determination, Altian turned back and disappeared into the fortress, just as a hooded creature slithered from the portal into the courtyard, and the terrible glowing ribbons shot from its arms and began cutting through the writhing, fighting mass indiscriminately.

  He ran through the dark tunnels and corridors, using what little knowledge he had to guide his steps. But the fortress was so dark, and in such disrepair that his journey moved far slower than he would have liked. With his companions dying outside, Altian did not want to waste a second, and the heavy footsteps of the pursuing creatures seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer.

  The directions came into his head of their own accord. Left. Right. Right again. Whenever he came to a set of internal stairs, he ran up them without pause. He needed to get higher and higher, to the highest tower of the fortress. That was where the Shen-Xin would be, protected, Altian feared, by its final guardian.

  Behind him the last of his men started panting, and struggled to keep up. After such exertions, Altian was surprised that he was still able to function as well as he was. He figured that if they slowed, or stopped, none of them would be capable of getting up again.

  And the creatures footsteps hammering through the dark corridors grew louder.

  Finally, they came to a long winding staircase, and ran up it. The stairs were narrow, and steep. They seemed to go upwards, on and on, for all of eternity. One of the men collapsed halfway, and they left him to his own fate.

  Then, as Altian thought he was soon to fall down himself, the stairs ended, and they came to a simple, wooden door. Unlike the rest of the fortress, the door showed no signs of decay. It seemed to have been very well cared for.

  Altian allowed himself a second to catch his breath. As he reached for the door, the sounds of footsteps echoed loudly up the tunnel.

  The soldiers drew their swords.

  “Go on, my lord,” the nearest told him. “You go and find it. We will hold them for you, for as long as we can.”

  Altian was about to protest, but thought better of it. He lifted his own sword, and pushed the door open. It gave without protest, and he dived through and slammed it shut, as the sounds of swordplay and death began to drift towards him.

  There was light. After the dark journey through the fortress, it was blinding, even as dim as it was.

  Altian stood in the chamber at the top of the tower. It was round, and bare of any furnishings, save for a small round alter in the exact centre. There was a large window occupying one quarter of the unending wall. it looked out onto the tall, dark walls of the volcano’s crater, and the immense lake of molten rock below. Illumination came from this window, the glow of the lava casting an eerie orange light into the room.

  With his sword held high, Altian walked around the chamber trying to remain alert. His eyes were fixed on the altar, where he had expected the Shen-Xin to have been.

  But it was empty.

  The floor was coated with a thick layer of ash. Altian left a long line of footprints in it as he made a circuit around the room. He found nothing else. No other doors, no other rooms, or secret passages. The chamber was empty.

  How could that be?

  A gentle breeze blew through the room. It was cold, and made Altian shiver. But this close to the volcano, the air should have been hot. Stifling even. There was something wrong. And Altian could feel there was something else in the room, watching him.

  “Who is there?” he called.

  The breeze blew harder. Carried on it was a voice. It was soft, and full of sorrow.

  “Do not fear, my friend. I mean you no harm.”

  Altian gripped his sword tighter. “Where are you? Tell me!”

  “I am everywhere. All around you. I am in the air, in the earth, in the sky. I am everything.” It fell silent, then added. “And at the same time, I am nothing.”

  “You are the final guardian of the Shen-Xin?”

  “The Shen-Xin? Oh, of course. That is what your kind call it. I take it you have come to remove the object from its prison?”

  “I have,” Altian replied. “Many have died needlessly for it. I will not return empty handed to make their deaths in vain.”

  “Good for you. You are an interesting one. What is your name?”

  “I am not here to trade words with a witless spectre,” Altian said angrily.

  “There is no need to be rude,” the voice replied wistfully. “I only wish to have a polite conversation. I have been here for so long, and I have had no one to talk to. All I ask is that you spare just a few moments to converse with me. After that, I will show you what you wish.”

  “I do not have the time. Where is the Shen-Xin?”

  “So hasty. There is no need to be. Once you spend a few millennia wasting away in this place as I have, you will come to realise that time is irrelevant.”

  “Answer me!”

  The spirit sighed. “Very well. The Shen-Xin is here. It is everywhere. It is with me.”

  “So you are its guardian.”

  “Guardian,” the voice said wistfully. “I used to think that. I was once its keeper. Its warden. I was to keep it safe, protect it from anyone who would wish to take it for themselves. What a joke. Three times in the past have armies come. Twice were they banished by the angel Illociah before they could even enter the gates. Only once before has anyone ever ventured this far, and he was most... unworthy. But you. You are different. Tell me, why is it that you seek this thing, this evil? Is it for yourself?”

  “No,” said Altian. “I have heard the stories
. I would have nothing do with such a thing.”

  “Then why do you want it?”

  “I do not want it. I need it, so that we may escape this cursed place, and return to our world.”

  “Is that all? Why bother coming in the first place?”

  Altian grew inpatient. “My men are dying. I do not have time for this. Either give me the Shen-Xin, so that we might leave, or show yourself, so that I can take it from you.”

  The air around him stirred, swirling though the room, faster and faster, until it was moving with the force of a gale. The ash was blown from the ground, and blacked the air. Altian backed against the wall and watched as the ash spun into a huge cloud, and then formed into a tall featureless mass on the other side of the chamber. It writhed, and quivered like a swarm of insects, then slowly, shapes began to form within its ebbing mass. A large face, a copy of Altian’s. It smiled at him, and laughed.

  “Perfect,” the voice said. “You are the one I have been waiting for.”

  “What are you?” Altian breathed.

  “The gods themselves no longer know. Once, I was Archangel Amnon, one of the divine protectors of mankind. Now I am this, a shapeless, powerless form, meant only to linger and rot in this dark, dead world with only my prisoner for comfort. And what a dreadful, and terrifying companion it makes. Once I was light. Now I am nothing. Blackness, emptiness. The abyss itself.” The face looked angry. “They tricked me! Misled me. I believed I was doing right, that I would save millions. Now look what has become of me!”

  “What?” Altian asked