by Jeff Inlo
He took the coin from his pocket, placed it in his palm. With his free hand, he fingered the warm metal. He could feel the current of crimson magic rotating within the edges of the silver chip. The enchantment was exceedingly plain. No spell, no direction or influence, waited within the energy. It was there simply to be used for whatever purpose the spell caster saw fit.
The thought of casting another spell pleased him beyond measure, but he couldn't allow eagerness to override diligence. If he simply pulled the energy from the coin, it would break free from his grasp. As he had already learned, the lack of a core would keep him from absorbing it in any fashion or storing it for even the briefest of moments. To utilize the energy, he had to shape the spell in his mind before he unleashed the enchantment.
The incantation would be far more intricate than a basic portal and more powerful than fundamental teleportation. He needed to reach through certain boundaries and into the edges of another realm. The complexity of the destination required him to consider commitments of his own past.
Neltus called on memories of a time he once held not only his own crimson core but also a slice of ebony magic. The powerful spell caster Ansas had honored Neltus with a portion of the sorcerer's purity. Ansas had hoped to mold others in the shape of his own arrogance, and the indelible links of energy burned certain incantations into Neltus' recollection.
Together, he and Ansas had created a grand spire that rose from the bleak grounds of the dark lands and stretched to the very limits of that realm. The top of the spire, a flat plateau with a frightening precipice, waited at the borders between physical existence and an emptiness which extended beyond both life and death.
In order to achieve his goal, Neltus needed to reach that plateau. The magic within the coin would easily allow him to create a portal into the dark realm, but he required more than a simple rift between dimensions. Arriving upon the tower's peak required transcending through the boundaries of existence and reaching the very edge of physical limitations.
As he continued to probe the magic within the coin, he feared it would be insufficient to bring him to the top of the rock tower. He considered pulling additional energy from the book or his ring, but he couldn't risk it. The magic within the book would allow him to make the necessary contact once he reached his destination. If he survived the encounter, the power within the ring would return him home.
As he mulled over the spell, he attempted to create a crisp connection between the incantation and the magic. He knew he had to be as efficient with the energy as possible. If he miscalculated, he would most likely face dire consequences.
He recalled the height of the tower. An insufficient attempt would mean entering the dark realm high above the bleak lands but short of the extended plateau. If so, he doubted he would be able to save himself from the fatal plummet which would result from such a failure.
Such a fate, however, would be far better than if he overshot his destination and ended up swimming through the void of nothingness beyond the dark lands. Even his enchanted items would be useless within the emptiness. His consciousness would remain trapped as his physical properties slowly collapsed. He would be rendered into nothing more than the echo of a painful scream, and his consciousness would remain tortured in that wretched state forever.
The risk was indeed great, but he could no longer live as an empty vessel. Regaining sway over magic by recovering his core was all that mattered. If he fell, if he became a tormented whisper lost in emptiness, it was no worse than his current condition.
He lifted the coin up high as he whispered a spell based on intuition and memory. Deep within his mind, he seized the solid grounds of two dimensions. He willed them together, connected the two separate existences with a rift which would act as a narrow tunnel through the combined grounds. The portal would also serve as a rushing force, like a landslide that would propel his body to the heights of the dark land and to the very limits of that realm.
Finally ready to enable the spell, Neltus pulled at the magic in the coin. He struggled greatly to maintain control of the energy. He had been so used to shaping magic from within his core that he almost lost hold of the power which refused to remain stable within his essence.
Fueled by desperation, he let his spell take command. He endured the strange sensation, almost like allowing someone else to breathe for him, and he made no attempt to take personal hold of the energy. He strung the magic through the loops of his spell and allowed the incantation already shaped in his mind to complete the actual work. The spell quickly forced the portal into existence.
Without stopping to further consider the consequences of his decision, Neltus enabled the incantation to carry out its directive. He allowed the force of the spell to get behind him, to cradle him, and then thrust him through the portal.
Instantly, he found himself rising through the thick hot winds of the dark lands. He faced the heavens, and he saw stars twinkling in a black sky. The spots of light offered small beacons of comfort, but any reassurance was quickly dashed as a hook hawk broke across his upward path and reminded him of the dangers he faced.
As the force of the spell continued to propel him through the humid and stench-filled air, Neltus wondered if the winged creature would alter its course in an attempt to intercept. He looked back over his shoulder and could not ignore the dreary landscape of the dark realm. Pools of fire blazed throughout the gray valley beneath him, and the silhouette of the hook hawk appeared like the twisted shadow of a bent and corrupt hand soaring through pockets of glowing amber.
The large bird veered back and forth like an unbalanced pendulum swinging in a brisk wind. Its unnatural form and twisted feathers forced the bird into bizarre flight patterns, but it used such deviations to its advantage. It had spotted the human soaring through the sky, and though it could not contemplate how such a phenomenon was possible, such considerations were irrelevant to its basic desires. It viewed the intruder as a possible meal, nothing more.
Neltus watched with growing apprehension as the winged beast utilized its awkward movements to circle back and follow his own upward trajectory. He believed the creature attempted to gain both speed and altitude at the same time, a difficult prospect under normal conditions, but the creature appeared to find the proper currents within the heavy winds. Even as he continued to rise through the air, Neltus realized the hook hawk quickly erased the distance between them.
Neltus wondered if being snatched up in the claws of the monster would be as painful as he imagined. He also wondered if it would be worse than his spell faltering and his body falling to the jagged rocks far below. He was still hurtling through the air, and the gray lands beneath him looked like broken teeth ready to chew him into pieces if he ended up descending into their midst.
Turning his head back to the stars, he finally saw the rock tower ahead of him. Due to its immeasurable height, it stood out from the surrounding grounds like a single gray reed growing up into the black sky. Nothing upon the horizon could come close to matching its size. It stood alone, like the only acceptable alter to an angry and malignant presence which demanded absolute homage.
As such, it did not offer any great comfort for the man who was hurtling past the gray clouds of the dark realm and directly toward it. The upper platform might have been his intended target, but he held no preconceptions of sanctuary at the top of that lonely spire.
The circular plateau had become a platform of transition in its own right. The spire was more than a rock tower. It signified a decision to reach into an emptiness that was better left alone, an emptiness ruled by a beast of incomplete substance. It was a bridge to a monster not known for compassion or even tolerance.
As the plateau drew near, Neltus gave one last look to the trailing hook hawk. The winged creature reached the zenith of its flight. It sensed the upper limits of the dark region, and it felt the waiting chasm of nothingness beyond the realm's borders. The monster would not risk its existence, even for such a tempting meal. It
veered away from Neltus and back toward the gray valley below, hoping to find easier prey.
Neltus' eyes grew wide as he closed upon the top ledge of the spire. He no longer worried about overshooting his mark. He could feel the power behind the spell weakening, and his velocity began to diminish. He would not sail beyond the precipice, but he wondered if he would reach the top of the spire or slam into the rugged cliff face which supported the plateau.
As his speed continued to dwindle, he tried to urge his rather rotund body higher than the waiting ledge. Unfortunately, there was no magic within him to amplify the spell, and he could not replenish a nonexistent core with the twisted energy that flowed throughout the dark lands.
Instinctively, he pulled his legs up into his chest. Not an athletic individual by any stretch of the imagination, he struggled with the simple maneuver. Before reaching the ledge, he rolled up into a ball with his knees tucked near his chin. He closed his eyes as he believed his body would smash into the side of the cliff face. He hoped the impact would render him unconscious. He did not need to stay awake for what he believed would be an inevitable and long plummet to a grisly end.
Luckily, his hip made first contact with the wall of rock, and rather than bounce backward, he had enough forward momentum that his body rolled up and over the top of the precipice. He came to a halt a mere two paces from the plateau's ledge.
Exhaling deeply, he sprawled out on his back, stretching his arms and legs out from his large body. A stabbing pain made it clear he had not died. His hip ached, but he had reached the top of the spire without further injury.
Neltus slowly rose to his feet. He didn't bother to wipe the gray dust from his clothes. Instead, he took one small step, with a bit of a limp, to the ledge of the spire. From that dazzling height, he peered out over the dark realm.
The land remained as he remembered it, dreary and depressing, a fitting home for the dark creatures which occupied it. It was an existence he never wished to visit. He had spent time there because of Ansas' desires, not his own. He preferred a lively tavern, with plenty to eat and drink.
For a brief moment, he imagined himself lounging at an inn, drinking heavily and eating even more. As the pleasant thoughts of comfort and excess brought a warmth to his body, he sensed a throbbing from the ring on his finger. It had the power to return him to Uton. Leaving the spire would require a far simpler spell. But the magic which tugged at his finger was no longer within him, and that hollow sensation urged him onward. He would return to a tavern only when that emptiness was filled with crimson power.
Despite his strong desires, he considered the inherent risks of his plan. The tower ridge held its own dangers, hazards beyond plummeting to the rocks below. The plateau might have been his destination, but it was not his ultimate objective. It served as a staircase upon which he still needed to take one last step.
As he considered his options, he realized leaping over the ledge remained a very possible alternative to the scheme in which he had placed his hopes. Not having any idea how his intended encounter would ultimately unfold, he would retain a quick leap and long, soul-wrenching fall as a contingency plan.
He then looked to the nothingness above the plateau. He could almost feel the emptiness, but it was not complete. A window had opened in the heavens, a gap for a view of stars which somehow defied the void. The twinkling points of brilliance appeared as an aberration, a direct contradiction to the desolation of the dark realm.
That window had been created and opened by Ryson Acumen, and memories of the delver forced Neltus to consider his choices. The stars he shouldn't have been able to see offered him a glimpse at possible liberation, a chance for comfort in a realm of misery.
He could not deny his own connection to the delver, but it was not one which brought him solace. It only reminded him of the energy which was absent from his essence. Neltus believed his only hope for redemption resided not in the points of light but in the waiting void.
Neltus moved to the center of the platform. Moving ahead with his idea, he opened the enchanted book, but read nothing. The writing was irrelevant. It was the magic he needed, and once more, he would have to be quite careful in his casting.
He had seen the shadow portal before, and his previous connection to Ansas gave him greater appreciation for the realm he needed to contact. It was Ansas' thirst for black energy which inspired him to build the spire, and it was the sorcerer's obsession for purity which ultimately created a bridge into a new realm, a region of nonexistence.
That link allowed an exiled ghoul to extend his reach back into the dark lands. Ansas had taken magic from a region of nothingness, mistakenly believing it was pure ebony power. Instead, it was energy which belonged to the slink ghoul Baannat, and it was Baannat whom Neltus would call upon.
Chapter 4
Neltus kept the enchanted book open as he concentrated on his memories of both Ansas and the slink ghoul Baannat. He also allowed the echoes of past portals to influence his spell. While there was no magic within him, ripples of past deeds trembled against the edges of the plateau. Others had opened gateways into Baannat's realm, and the remnants of old passages hung faintly in the air. Allowing such swells to help shape the energy was the only way he could complete the incantation.
The pages began to turn by themselves, slowly at first, then much faster, as if a heavy wind blew across Neltus' hands. Crimson energy rippled out from the open book like bursts of scorching gas from boiling hot springs. Neltus fought to utilize the magic, and he quickly shaped his spell within the red waves.
Once the spell took firm hold of the energy, the remainder of the crimson magic exploded out of the book in one complete burst. It leapt from Neltus' hands and swirled in the air. Eventually, the red hue began to fade into a gray shadow, and a hollow portal formed over the center of the high plateau. It hung suspended in the air like the empty shadow of a bottomless hole. The inky blackness swirled ever so slightly, but no other movement appeared near the rift.
Neltus held his breath and waited. He began to sweat. He never appreciated confronting beings of great power, even when his core was intact. He preferred facing weaker opponents, foes he knew he could beat. He was opening a gateway into a dimension of emptiness, creating a door for a being of considerable animosity, while he was essentially powerless to defend himself.
To make things much worse for Neltus, he really didn't understand Baannat's abilities. The slink ghoul was once as powerful as Enin. The monster cast white magic marked with the efficiency of two perfect circles. At one time, Baannat had grown even more powerful than Enin and almost defeated the human wizard, but the slink ghoul lost... not only the battle but also his magic.
Many believed Baannat was killed in that clash, but he found a way to return to Uton. He also found a way to reclaim the magic which had been taken from him, and that was the only reason Neltus dared to contact the ghoul.
Neltus peered into the shadow rift. He could see nothing, but that was no surprise. Baannat ruled a realm of nonexistence, and the slink ghoul had become something of an anomaly himself.
Neltus took one deep breath and called into the shadowed hole.
"Baannat?"
He quickly took a step back and waited.
Nothing.
Neltus remained where he stood but called out a little louder.
"Baannat?!"
The shadows within the rift began to swirl more quickly, and the slink ghoul leapt through the rift in one quick bound. Baannat did not land upon the ground. He floated in the air. His shape appeared to glimmer. There was substance to his body, but it also appeared incomplete. The mass at the center of his body swirled with the same inconsistency as the shadow of the portal. The muzzle of his cat-like face formed a quick sneer as he scanned the grounds all around the edges of the precipice.
Realizing he faced only Neltus, Baannat gazed upon the human with more amusement than curiosity. The thin black irises of the ghoul's eyes twitched with delight. He recogniz
ed the human, knew he could torment the trespasser with ease. Thin claws jutted out of his paw-like hands as the slink ghoul swiped at the air in front of Neltus' face. Baannat did not strike the human, but he enjoyed watching him flinch.
"You've been here before," Baannat stated, as the slink ghoul began to circle Neltus.
The ghoul took quick steps with his thick, curved legs, but he remained off the ground, as if he walked on a cushion of air. The beast's entire form continued to shimmer in the dim starlight, making it clear that his body remained incomplete in a physical existence.
Neltus did not turn to match Baannat's movements. He remained almost completely still, allowing the creature to stalk behind him and moving only when he sensed the ghoul's claws come near. He tried not to recoil, but he could not contain the instinctive desire to cringe at an expected assault. Finally, he found the strength to speak.
"Yes, I helped Ansas create this rock edifice," Neltus confessed. "I used the crimson magic to shape the land where it would tower above everything else in the dark realm, reach to the very edge of its existence."
"And form a bridge into my realm of non-existence," Baannat confirmed.
"It was never meant to intrude upon you."
Baannat cackled nearly uncontrollably. When he finally stopped giggling madly, he revealed what he saw as an absolute truth.
"It was Ansas' intention to do just that! His search for pure black magic led him to reach where he should not have placed his hands."
"But it wasn't my intention," Neltus noted. He hoped to ensure there was no animosity between them before he made his request. "I didn't steal any of your magic."
"What do I care of your intentions? Are you worried that I view your land sculpture as an invasion?"
"I hope you don't view it that way."