by David Wells
Alexander couldn’t overcome the inescapable conclusion that she was lost to him and yet he simply couldn’t make himself face that reality no matter how hard he tried. Everything in him rebelled against the thought of it. His guts squirmed and his hands trembled. The lump in his throat threatened to overwhelm him again, so he shoved his feelings aside and focused on simply standing up.
It took an effort almost greater than he could muster to stagger to his feet and look around at the cave. It was filled with a number of Rangers who were all checking their weapons, cleaning the sand out of what equipment they had retained during the fight, and generally preparing for the next battle.
Kevin had chosen these men well. Every one of them was here in this impossible situation because Alexander had brought them here. At the very least, he owed them a leader who wasn’t doubled over crying. He wiped the tears from his face and took another deep breath to steady himself.
Two Rangers returned, carrying waterlogged packs and then went back out onto the beach to look for more. Within an hour they reported that they’d retrieved everything that had washed ashore. They also reported that the ganglings and the wyverns had traded shots for a while before the wyverns withdrew south down the coastline and there was no immediate threat that they could see. They spent the next several hours drying, sorting, and cleaning their gear and supplies. Some of the food was wasted but they still had enough for a week or so. Mostly, they just needed to dry everything out so it would be light enough to actually carry. Water-soaked packs were far too heavy to be worth the effort; they would simply exhaust everyone and slow them down.
Isabel’s medallion of Glen Morillian had washed ashore in a tangle of broken longboat wood. When a Ranger brought it to him, Alexander struggled to keep his composure as he wrapped it in a piece of cloth and put in into his pouch.
Alexander thought to Chloe, “Little One, I have to go see if I can find Isabel and Abigail. I need to leave my body for a while. I know you don’t like it, but I have to do this.”
She thought back to him, “I know.” He could hear the worry and resignation in her thoughts. “Be careful, My Love.”
Alexander sat quietly for several minutes before he could find the peace of mind to even begin his meditation routine. Once he began, it took almost an hour before he found himself in the firmament. He braced himself for the worst before willing his awareness to coalesce near Isabel. It was like running into a wall. Just before he started to become aware of his surroundings, his awareness was scattered into the firmament.
He schooled his emotions and carefully brought himself back to a single point of awareness floating above his own body in the cave. At least he knew where to look for his wife and sister. He floated up through the stone of the cliff several hundred feet into the sky. He saw three dead ganglings at the scene of the battle and several dead Rangers washed up on shore.
He rose higher still, scanning the island for the location of the Reishi Keep. It took him a while to find it; the island was wild and heavily forested in many places. The Keep rose up from a point dead center in the middle of the island and was made of black granite similar to that of Blackstone Keep. No doubt this keep was a magical construction as well. It was surrounded by a swath of open prairie in all directions for at least a league.
When he moved closer, he saw that the Keep itself was smaller than Blackstone but still formidable, with scores of towers, battlements, bridges, and chambers. It was a beautiful structure clearly designed to create an impression of awe in all who looked at it.
When Alexander tried to move his awareness within the confines of the walls, he was once again scattered into the firmament. This time it took even longer to draw himself back together even though he was becoming more experienced at recovering from his essence being torn apart and set adrift on the ocean of possibility.
It was like putting a puzzle back together when the pieces had been hidden all around the world. Each little scrap of his identity was like a beacon. He always started from the place of the witness, where emotion didn’t exist. From there he searched out each memory, personality trait, and scrap of character and gathered them back into himself until he felt whole again, and then he spread his intact awareness across the firmament to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. When he was confident that he had every part of himself, he tried to move back into his body. What he found terrified him.
He was inhabited by a being without substance yet possessed of such malice and rage that Alexander found himself locked in a battle for his life within his own body.
The unclean nature of the demon was revolting and terrifying. It struggled to hang on, to retain control. Alexander bore down with all the rage and fear of his loss but that only seemed to feed the demon and marginalize his own ability to exert any control over his arms and legs.
Dimly he became aware that he was standing with the Thinblade drawn—two Rangers were dead at his feet. His revulsion at what his body had been used to do only served to strengthen the demon’s hold over him.
He thought of Isabel and her ordeal with the demon. At the first thought of her, the demon’s grip loosened. Alexander bore in with the greatest power he knew—the power of his love for Isabel. He let it shine like a star in the center of his being, and the demon evaporated with a shriek of anger.
He focused his vision and saw a dozen Rangers arrayed around him, all under Anatoly’s command. Lucky was poised to throw a shatter vial at him.
Chloe spun up into a ball of light and pronounced, “He’s back!”
Alexander lowered the Thinblade and looked at the two men dead at his feet. He felt sick. He’d been warned that this could happen, yet he hadn’t listened. Part of him simply didn’t believe it was possible but now he knew. His clairvoyance left him vulnerable and with the Thinblade in his possession, everyone nearby was in danger. He dropped his sword and slumped to his knees, looking at the two loyal Rangers who’d been slaughtered by his own hand. For the second time that day, he cried.
Chapter 42
“You were right, Chloe,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry,” he said to the Rangers all looking hesitantly at him. Then he hung his head and cried in shame and anguish. He felt like some indispensable part of him was breaking under the strain of the horrors he’d caused. Chloe spun into a ball of light and he heard her in his mind.
“You didn’t kill these men, My Love. The demon did. You drove it away with your love and now it has no power to hurt you again.”
He clung to the connection he had with her and wept. She was an endless source of unconditional love which she gave freely and without restraint. Her love nourished his soul until he was capable of facing the men who had sworn him loyalty, men his negligence had betrayed. He stood slowly, with tears still streaming down his face.
Anatoly put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye with a mixture of sadness and relief. “We all know it wasn’t you who killed these men.”
The Rangers all nodded agreement, but Alexander knew differently. He had allowed it to happen. His carelessness with power had caused unintended consequences of the most serious nature to other human beings. Two good and loyal men had paid with their lives for his negligence. It was a stain on his soul that he would live with forever. He vowed to learn from the experience and to never forget the men who lay dead before him.
Instead of confessing his sins to the men assembled around him, he nodded, not because he wanted to avoid blame but because they needed to see that their leader was still strong enough to lead them. The journey to the Keep would be treacherous and dangerous. The terrain was wild and the denizens of the Reishi Isle were unfriendly at best.
He knelt next to each dead man and took the clasps emblazoned with the Rangers’ crest off their cloaks as he offered each a quiet apology and a prayer to the spirits of the light that they would guide and protect them on their journey home.
He knew he shouldn’t take the time but he couldn’t leave these men for the scavengers, so he ordered the Range
rs to build a funeral pyre for all of the dead, both from the battle with the wyverns and the two dead by his hand. They set the blaze and said a brief word of respect for their fallen before heading north along the coastline in search of a way up the cliff and into the interior of the wild island.
The Rangers kept a close eye on the sky and the top of the cliff as they moved through the boulder field. It was slow going, but the large rocks provided some measure of cover and after the battle with the wyverns that was worth more than speed.
Everyone was in a somber mood. Alexander struggled to keep his emotional desolation at bay and focus his mind on the task before him, but his thoughts kept returning to his wife and sister. He could see that his friends were also struggling to deal with their emotions. Lucky and Anatoly had been every bit as much a part of Abigail’s life as they had Alexander’s, and Jack had come to love Abigail even though he had only recently admitted his feelings for her, even to himself. While Isabel had become the very center of Alexander’s life, she had also been welcomed into the family by Alexander’s friends and traveling companions.
The Rangers were also feeling the pain of losing so many of their own. These men had trained and served together. They were friends of those who had fallen and they felt the loss deeply. In spite of the emotional turmoil coursing through each and every one of Alexander’s party, they remained vigilant and cautious. The island had already demonstrated that it was home to dangerous creatures.
Chloe was more nervous than usual. She was so far away from her home and now Alexander had brought her to the most untamed place in the Seven Isles. She informed him that the island was inhabited by many things from the dark which Alexander took as another piece of evidence that the Nether Gate was here somewhere. He still didn’t know what he was going to do about the Gate, but he was sure that the shade traveling with Jataan P’Tal had plans for it and he was equally sure that he had to prevent it from succeeding. He just had no idea how he was going to do that.
They traveled less than a mile up the coastline before they saw a draw cut by a stream into the cliff face. The stream was swollen with rainwater from the storm that had passed through a few days before. It looked treacherous and steep, but it was the only path to the top of the cliffs that they’d seen so far and Alexander wanted to get off the beach and into the cover of the forest.
A pair of Rangers climbed slowly, with coils of rope slung over their shoulders and across their bodies, testing each foothold and trying multiple handholds as they moved cautiously up the draw. Once they reached the top, each tied off his rope to a sturdy tree and cast it down for the rest of the party.
It took longer than Alexander would have liked but they eventually made it safely to the top of the cliff. While they rested, Lieutenant Wyatt sent out scouts.
One returned after a few minutes, moving quickly and silently through the low, dense forest. “Ganglings, I counted seven,” he reported in a hushed voice. “They’re headed this way.”
Lieutenant Wyatt quickly organized his men and sent scouts into the forest ahead of them. Within a few moments they were moving through the trees away from the cliff and the approaching ganglings. When they heard the long-armed giants reach the top of the draw, they stopped and took cover. They were only a hundred feet or so into the forest and they wanted to avoid a confrontation if possible. Chloe buzzed away toward the ganglings. A few moments later Alexander heard her in his mind.
“They’re heading down to the beach, My Love. It looks like they’re going to inspect the funeral pyre.”
He sighed with relief. They held still for several minutes to make sure the ganglings were on the beach before they started moving again. The forest was thick with giant ferns and short gnarled trees. It was teeming with birds, insects, and small mammals. Following Alexander’s directions, the Rangers moved cautiously, carefully choosing their trail to reduce both the noise they made and the evidence of their passage.
They traveled for several hours through the dense forest but didn’t cover nearly as much ground as Alexander had hoped they would. The density of the foliage and the care they were taking to move silently and without a trace were slowing them down. When they heard the crashing behind them, they knew their efforts had been in vain.
It sounded like giants were rampaging through the forest off in the distance and the noise was getting closer. There were trees all around with thick dense trunks that split into large branches only eight or ten feet from the ground. Alexander scanned his surroundings looking for a place to hide, but he knew that the ganglings would probably find them no matter where they went.
“You already know that ganglings throw rocks as big as your head,” Alexander said to the Rangers. “They also fight with their fists and are almost twice the size of a man. Spread out and use the trees for cover. Try to drive them off with arrows before they get close enough to trade blows.”
They took positions in a broad crescent formation. The crashing grew louder and then seven of the giant grey-skinned creatures came into view. The Rangers loosed a volley of arrows, and the charging giants roared with anger at being suddenly peppered with pain. They stopped and bellowed in challenge to the Rangers, who held their ground, silently hiding behind the stout tree trunks. A moment later, half a dozen small boulders crashed through the forest. The Rangers rolled out from behind their cover and sent another volley of arrows. Again the ganglings roared in anger, but this time they charged.
Alexander set his bow next to a tree and stepped out to face the long-armed giants while drawing the Thinblade. Anatoly came up on his left with his war axe, and the Rangers divided their forces; half remained in position to fire arrows into the enemy while the rest took up short spears and stepped up to meet the charge. The ganglings stopped twenty feet away and roared again, but Alexander and his men held their ground without flinching. The ganglings looked confused. They weren’t terribly smart and they were accustomed to most enemies fleeing before them. They seemed unsure of themselves and it was clear that at least a few of them were hurt from the arrows they’d taken.
Alexander pointed his sword at the lead gangling and started to advance toward the creature. It roared. Alexander responded with a battle cry and then charged. The lead gangling hesitated for only a moment before charging to meet the challenge. The rest held back, grunting and barking encouragement to the strongest among them.
It swung its oversized fist at Alexander in an arcing punch that would have taken his head off, but Alexander ducked under it and severed the creature’s hand at the wrist. His sidestep under the punch put him on the right of the gangling and slightly behind it. His next stroke cut it in half at the waist. It crashed into a heap on the ground, mewling and gurgling. Alexander finished it by taking its head. When he looked at the rest of the ganglings, they retreated a step. Alexander took one step toward them, and they howled in unison before turning and fleeing into the forest.
Alexander’s party made haste to get some distance from the location of the dead gangling. The noise made by the grey-skinned giants during the brief battle had no doubt alerted every predator for miles around to their position and Alexander wanted to be as far away as possible when they showed up. They stopped moving for stealth and started moving for speed. It was noisy and left a trail that could be easily followed, but they made much better time.
Far in the distance they heard the shriek of something dying. Chloe spun into a ball of light. Alexander tried to reassure her. She was so tiny and fragile and the wilds of the Reishi Isle were filled with deadly creatures looking for prey.
“It’ll be all right, Little One.”
“I don’t like this place, My Love.”
“Me neither,” he thought, “but we have to get the Stone, no matter the cost.” A lump grew in his throat at that thought. He had already paid such a price that he wasn’t sure his soul could bear it, yet he had to press on.
“Have faith, My Love. Isabel is strong. She will return to you,” Chloe offered sil
ently in his mind.
They pushed on until dark without encountering any more of the beasts that prowled the wilds. Camp was made quietly and without any light. Lieutenant Wyatt set a four-man guard rotation and they lay down for an uneasy night’s sleep. The sounds of the forest were strange even to the Rangers who’d spent most of their lives in the vast tracts of the Great Forest of Ruatha.
This place was different. The trees grew differently, as if they were tortured by some unseen force of dark magic. The flora was different and strange. Even the colors of the life all around had a taint to them that put Alexander on edge, especially after dark when the light of the living colors emanating from the trees all around shone more brightly.
He slept fitfully, dreaming of Isabel and Abigail. He saw them taken from him over and over and felt the hopelessness of being helpless to save them. He woke several times and listened to the sounds of the alien forest, expecting to hear the growl or snarl of some predator stalking them. Late in the night, sometime near dawn as he lay awake looking up at the thick canopy, he heard Chloe in his mind.
“Darkness comes,” she thought to him.
“Don’t get near it, Little One,” he thought to her as he rolled out of his bedroll. Just as he came to his feet, a howl shattered the night—it was like the sound of metal scraping on metal mixed with the squeal of a dying pig. It was a sound he’d heard before, and it was close.
The camp erupted into a flurry of activity as the Rangers rolled to their feet. Alexander removed his vial of night-wisp dust from its bone tube, and light flooded into the forest sending shadows in all directions. A moment later Jack held his vial high, and a pack of nether wolves responded with a howl that sent shivers of fear racing through all who heard the unnatural keening of the dark beasts. Alexander quickly scanned the woods and picked out the blackness of their dead auras.
“Five nether wolves,” he called out. “Use blades to take their heads off. Stabbing them does nothing.” He heard the ring of steel as the Rangers drew swords as one. But the nether wolves didn’t come. For a long moment they stood in a loose circle facing the enemy in the forest all around before Lucky started chuckling.