Oblivion Hand

by Adrian Cole

  The Voidal waved Elfloq down into the night.

  Ozbaak looked at him sadly. “What will you do with your woman?”

  The Voidal’s face clouded. “I cannot take her from this place. But I will free her.”

  “Light is our strength,” called Ozbaak as the great winged charger rushed away, the familiar following in its slipstream.

  As the two winged shapes were swallowed up by the night below, another figure moved in the crannies of the black mountains, peering intently from a crag to watch the graceful descent. It saw Ozbaak go back inside his tower, but paid him no further heed. The one he had come to undo had flown below. Glad of the thickening shadows, Shatterface picked his way down the sheer cliff wall, patient in his descent, knowing that he would eventually come upon the Voidal in Vandi-Nuessa’s mausoleums. He touched the haft of the Sword of Oblivion as if in reassurance and the night hid his terrible smile.

  Equumyrion dropped into a wide plaza flanked on all sides by heaps of debris and shattered walls. The Voidal and Grabulic dismounted, the Songster patting the long nose of the golden beast, which neighed softly and then took to the skies once more, as quiet as any shadow. Elfloq appeared from the night, and the three figures studied the mouldering necropoli of Ludang.

  “Will you recognise the place you saw in your vision, where the lamias nest?” the Voidal asked Elfloq, who gave a nervous nod.

  A pale wash of false dawn from over the distant crags of Nacramonte barely outlined the dread buildings as they crossed the pitted plaza. Perhaps the architecture had once been splendid, but now there was only dust and the droppings of beasts, the walls cracked and beslimed. There was the stench of death and decay in the air, while in the unseen places there were rustlings and slitherings as though a deep pit of evil had released creatures best left in their dark lairs: an evil that throbbed like the incessant beat of a drum.

  Elfloq indicated a narrow thoroughfare leading away from the open plaza and as they came near to its black mouth a terrible hissing sound escaped from it. It seemed that a tide of reptiles had come spewing forth: Elfloq took to the air at once, but the Voidal swept from its scabbard the Sword of Light. It blazed like a torch, revealing in the glare a multitude of horrors, not serpents at all, but revolting things that writhed, bloated bodies alive with feelers and clutching feet. Eyes like pins gleamed by the hundred as the searing light that haloed the Voidal and Grabulic drove the horror back, for they saw now that it was a single beast.

  From the fallen towers and broken buildings there came grunts and croaks as other parodies of life gathered. Elfloq was glad to drop into the ring of light. The dark man motioned for him to lead on, and with a shudder the diminutive being did so. Down the straight road they went, the light throwing alleys and windows into a white glare, and always something screamed or shrieked as it fled back to darkness. They passed charnel houses and ruined places, and from within came whispers and murmurs of madness. The sounds were hellish, the stink of death and ordure worse; swarming flies buzzed about the light in thick clouds. Behind the group, things stalked, wary of the light. Eyes stared hatefully from every nook, while overhead could be heard the unmistakable flap of wings and the hiss of avian life eager to drop for the feast.

  “There,” breathed Elfloq, pointing to a cluster of mausoleums. “The central one is where I saw—”

  The Voidal nodded, jaw tightening. He flexed his right hand, but the movement was for once his own. The Dark God to whom it belonged remained dormant. To enter that place, then, would not be its doing. “We’ll wait until Ozbaak can aid us with more light. There must be countless thousands of these blasphemies around us. Sooner or later, some of them will be goaded into attacking us in spite of the sword.”

  Grabulic was constantly looking over his shoulder. On a tumbled building at the edge of the circle of light, he now saw a figure, standing stiffly and watching them. The Songster pointed.

  “Lamia?” said the Voidal, hardly able to see more than the flowing black silks and a white blur of face.

  “Yes,” nodded Elfloq. “They cover themselves, master, but that is one of them.”

  “They know we have come. We must put our trust in the light. Look!” The Voidal indicated the heavens, where a new glow suffused them. High overhead, Equumyrion flew, and behind him glowed a comet trail as Ozbaak spread what light he could. To and fro over the dead city the old god passed, pausing only to light up his beacons on the crags that ringed the city like teeth. The light was still poor, but it sharpened the features of the city. Dreadful wailings and murmurs of fear rose up in response to it: the Voidal and Grabulic sensed the slow drawing back of the dark beings that had been closing in.

  “To the mausoleum,” the dark man said. “We must find the women.”

  The first of these grim buildings stood before them, its pillars leaning, its roof partly fallen in. Beyond it were others, all built to surround the central pile, wherein Elfloq had seen the lamias of Vandi-Nuessa.

  The dark man held high the Sword of Light. “Horror awaits, little familiar. I will not curse you if you choose to hide on the astral while I act.”

  Elfloq would gladly have so fled, for he had never before experienced such terror, but if the Voidal were to be his master, he must honour him. “I will go with you.”

  “And I,” murmured Grabulic, though he bore his own terror like a banner.

  The Voidal smiled dourly. “Then come.”

  Vandi-Nuessa’s great central mausoleum was built on a foundation of bones culled from a thousand centuries, cemented with blood and piled upwards with stone cut from fallen meteors, all carved an age before by slave armies. Uppermost of the tortured piles was a blood red finger in which the Lamia of Lamias reclined on a divan of stretched human skin, its pillows stuffed with human hair. On the outer wall of this tower the carved face of a giant demon watched over the city, its eyes windows that housed two lenses. In these lenses the empress could study her dead city and see all things that moved within it, even those that crawled with the worms in the lowest of the catacombs.

  She saw the approach of the Voidal and his two companions. As her crimson eyes focused on the diminutive figure of Elfloq, they blazed with feral anger.

  “So that sub-human filth dares to come here after making fools of my servants! No one cheats me of my spoils and laughs over their fortune for long! Well, familiar, I will tear every scale from your body and fill you to the brim with the burning poison of my personal bite! Come to me. I luxuriate in your arrival!”

  She turned her attention to the dark man and sneered at the vision in the lens. “Voidal!” she scoffed. “I am not moved by your coming. You are not here at the behest of your masters, but for your own ends. It is the woman you seek! To free her. Well, I may give her to you without a struggle, for she can never bring joy to you as she is, nor can any man comfort her. And you can never hope to take her with you on your aimless travels, so what foolish plan have you conceived? Go into the heart of my mausoleums and find her. We are more than ready for you!”

  The three figures moved on, oblivious of the watcher and her words.

  Through high portals cut from single slivers of basalt the three figures passed, crossing the very threshold of the central mausoleum. They were cautious, for they had not been attacked in spite of the unseen multitude. As they went inside, darkness closed in like a fist, but the Voidal held high his sword, banishing the shadows for a little distance. Elfloq watched the tombs and altars warily, expecting to see a host of lamias rise up to join battle, but none appeared.

  “Where are they?” he asked nervously.

  “The light pains them.”

  “And she whom you seek?”

  The Voidal ignored the implication. “We must open the tombs. She may be within,” he said bitterly, his resolve set.

  A movement ahead made them all start, but still nothing attacked. They passed on through festoons of web, rotting candlesticks. Their footsteps echoed high up in the vaults where bats rustle
d, hating the light. Something crunched under the Voidal’s boots and he looked down to see the remains of human bones. Elfloq drew back, for a carpet of the grisly relics stretched ahead of them.

  From the darkness beyond came sounds suggestive of a beast feeding. The Voidal stepped forward slowly, holding the sword ahead of him like a brand. Something moved among the frightful remains. It was a lamia, cringing back from the light. Its long gossamer gown was smeared with blood and its pale, tapered hands held raw meat. Elfloq mumbled a curse deep in his throat as the Voidal walked on alone. Grabulic, nauseated, held back.

  The dark man stood over the lamia, which cowered on its haunches, face hidden by clawed hands, thin body sheathed in the darkness of the gown. It presented no menace, but merely whispered as the Voidal bent down and pulled the hands away from the face. The mouth and cheeks were crimson, the eyes squeezed shut against the detested light: the face had been human, but bestial depravity had distorted its features, making it all animal now, while the hair was lank and matted with filth, the teeth razor sharp and unnatural. Blood ran from the lips in a trickle.

  But he knew her.

  A single cry of despair escaped his lips as he looked at she who had been his lover. He remembered. Memories that had been hidden from him came back urgently. “What have they done to you?” he said hoarsely, holding the Sword of Light away from her so that she would not suffer, but she whimpered like a dog, devoid of any understanding.

  From around the mighty hall there now came the shuffling of feet and the sibilant hissing of other beings crowding in. Elfloq looked about him to see a host of slender shapes gathering, their faces shielded from the light by thick, black veils. Vandi-Nuessa’s servants had surrounded them. Grabulic backed up against a broken pillar, as if he could blend with the stone. He felt his insides melting with terror.

  One of the night creatures stepped forward. Only its scarlet mouth was outlined by the light, lips pursed in mocking contempt. “Have you found what you came for?” she challenged in a piercing, icy voice. It was the Lamia of Lamias herself, her wraith-like figure seeming to coalesce from the very darkness.

  The Voidal turned his withering gaze upon her. “Is this your work?” he snarled, indicating the lamia at his feet.

  “She was deposited here by beings more powerful than I. Even I must bow to those masters who rule beyond Nyctath.”

  “The Dark Gods,” the Voidal breathed.

  “Yes! I do not serve them, but I do their work if it pleases me. They sent her here to be secreted among my slaves. That is how she was when she came. She serves me readily enough. I am simply her keeper.”

  The Voidal shuddered as he looked upon the wretched creature, once a woman, at his feet. “The same Dark Gods who cursed me with immortality have cursed her with a parody of the same.”

  “And what will you have of her now?” challenged Vandi-Nuessa as her servants thronged, rising from the crypts below the mausoleum. “You dare not take her from this dimension. Perhaps you will stay with her and make her your mate once more!” The red mouth opened in appalling laughter, revealing twin rows of gleaming fangs.

  “I may be the pawn of the Dark Gods, but I am not without some power. I will free her from your repugnant clutches! And I will destroy all those who stand in my way.”

  “I am sure you will,” laughed the empress mockingly. “Take her where you will. Nyctath is peppered with barren worlds where even I do not walk. I will not hinder you. She belongs to the Dark Gods before me.”

  Elfloq hovered near to the Voidal’s side. “Do not trust her!” he hissed.

  “You would let me pass without dispute?” the dark man said to the empress.

  “If you agree to my terms.”

  “Which are?”

  Vandi-Nuessa pointed venomously at the familiar. “Give me that worm! Forsake him and deny him further service to you—give him to me! Cast him at my feet and you can have whatever you wish.”

  Elfloq gasped, body shuddering with renewed terror. He had not foreseen this unthinkable possibility.

  But the Voidal shook his head. “I owe you nothing. Stand aside or I will let the light eat out whatever passes for your soul. I will give you death everlasting!”

  Vandi-Nuessa’s mouth spat her contempt. “I think not, man from the empty places. You are immortal, so think yourself invulnerable. We will teach you the fallacy of that! My servants will suck the sweet red juice from you. We could never drink you dry, but each day could draw from you the renewed wine of life. You will suffer a thousand times more than she has! Let us see how you fare against my thirsty sisters!” So saying, she waved her minions forward and as one they swept to the attack. At once the Voidal swung the Sword of Light above his head in blinding circles.

  “Hold the woman!” he cried to Elfloq, who was himself cringing at the dark man’s feet, but the familiar had the presence of mind to do as bidden and gripped the lamia so that she could not flee. Thankfully she had no appetite for the battle. The lamias tried to claw at the Voidal as they sprang in, but his weapon tore into their gowns, scorching their flesh, charring them with every impact. He seared their arms, shrivelling them so that as one they were forced to fall back. Screams and frightful shrieks rent the air, but the Voidal ignored the agony he had unleashed. His own bitter anger and hate spurred him on and he tore into them furiously. Three times the ring of lamias closed on him, but against the terrible Sword of Light they were helpless. They fell back, moaning.

  The Voidal faced the empress, his own stare fuelled by the very fires of hell. “Shall I burn every last one of them from your nest? If you force my hand, I will destroy every last thing in this charnel house!”

  Vandi-Nuessa shook with silent anger and frustration. “Take the cursed woman with you, if you can find a place of shelter. And that stunted halfling you call servant. I will find him. My wings are long. The omniverse itself cannot shield him fro me!”

  The Voidal had been looking to see where Grabulic was, but the Songster had somehow made himself invisible. The dark man turned to Elfloq. “I must carry her. You must raise the sword for me.”

  Elfloq looked astounded, but took the bright weapon from his master.

  “Lead us,” the Voidal told him as he swept his lover up into his arms. She seemed to be in a dream, faint and silent, her body wrapped in her gown as though it were a shroud.

  Elfloq stepped warily forward, holding the Sword of Light away from him as though it would explode in his face.

  “We are leaving,” the Voidal told Vandi-Nuessa. “If you try to stay us, I will finish what I began.”

  The red mouth twisted spitefully. “Go where you will, Voidal, but this entire world will follow you. You will fall foul of us in the end. Then we will bring you back to these chambers and lavish our constant attention on you. Your lover will be the first to feed upon you.” As she spoke, the empress drifted to one side, fearful of the Sword of Light that Elfloq brandished so effectively. Around the hall the broken lamias moaned, nursing their burns.

  Elfloq neared the portal to the plaza. As he did so, the woman shifted in the Voidal’s arms, groaning. Her gown fell open to reveal her body from the waist down. The Voidal gasped in horror, for it was not the body of a woman, but of a beast with hooves.

  Elfloq spun round to see what was amiss and missed his footing, stumbling. At once Vandi-Nuessa leapt forward, her fangs barred and gleaming like tiny knives, ready to tear and shred. Over the tripped form of the familiar she spread herself like a great bat. The Voidal stood as though turned to stone.

  Cursing, Elfloq twisted and thrust upward awkwardly with the Sword of Light. He felt it slide easily into the belly of the descending Lamia of Lamias as though made of smoke. Her awful cry split his ears as she took the full length of blazing sword. The black-clad body crashed down over Elfloq, smothering him, and the two of them tumbled down the stairs to the plaza beyond. They landed with the lamia uppermost, and from its back protruded the end of the sword, still burning, sizzling wi
th her life fluid.

  The screams were frightful. A uniform sigh went up from the lamia host, which pressed forward. Vandi-Nuessa’s body stirred, flopping to one side. Elfloq emerged breathlessly, staggering to his feet. The great sword had gone home to the haft. “Master—I cannot withdraw it!” he shouted, tugging at the hilt.

  “Then leave it!” replied the dark man. “If you pull it free, she will rise again. Come, let us flee before these abominations attack.” He turned to see another figure emerging from the darkness of the mausoleum. It was Grabulic: the Songster clutched something to his chest, half concealed inside his shirt.

  Together the three of them raced down on to the plaza, the chorus of near-hysterical screams behind them swelling as the maddened lamias stood around their fallen empress, whose agonies were fading.

  Elfloq pulled up in the centre of the plaza. In front of him stood yet another figure, wielding a heavy sword of its own. The Voidal stopped and stared across at the man who confronted them. He was dressed in linked chain, the head encased in a helm that allowed only the eyes to be exposed. These were hellish, as though they belonged to a demon from the Abyss itself.

  “Stand back, Elfloq,” the dark man told the familiar. “There is greater evil here than the things we have just quitted.”

  Elfloq obeyed as the Voidal swung the woman down. Neither the familiar nor the dark man now carried a weapon.

  “Do you know me, Voidal?” said Shatterface, lifting the Sword of Oblivion.

  “Show me your face.”

  Shatterface laughed coldly. “No one has seen this face, nor shall they. It is not mine!”

  “Why are you here?”

  “The Dark Gods sent me to take away all the things you have remembered.”

  The Voidal drew back slowly. “They resent my discoveries.”

  Shatterface moved forward confidently. He had said all he need say. One stroke now would be enough. As he moved, the skies began to brighten and a wash of false dawn flooded above them. Elfloq looked around him anxiously for some means to stay this grim avenger. The air abruptly whistled to the falling of a great body. Shatterface glanced around, confronting whatever interfered in his business.