A Single Candle (Cerah of Quadar Book 3)

by S. J. Varengo

  “Cerah, we must talk about what will happen when we meet the enemy.”

  Cerah nodded, her face set in a somber cast. “I have been ever so grateful to meet you, Mother,” she said, causing Preena to smile at the use of that name. “It has done Slurr more good than you will ever know. A short time before you arrived he had fallen into a dark humor from which he had gradually begun to climb. But he was still troubled. He still blamed himself for Surok’s coming to Kier. When his counselors told him that the Dark Army tarried because they were most likely destroying everything and everyone in their path, his guilt welled up once more.

  “But then you came and I saw missing pieces of him fall into place. I have loved him deeply and have known him intimately. But in the instant he held you in his arms, I witnessed him become even more than he’d been. And he was a great man, already. Make no mistake.”

  Preena had listened as Cerah heaped praised upon her son, but she knew another shoe was about to drop.

  “Having said that, I must tell you that when the battle comes, you and Ban cannot remain with the army. When it is evident that we are nearing the place where we will meet them, I’ve instructed two of my wizard brethren to fly you and Ban to safety. I’ve told them to carry you northwest. Jessip tells me that there is a small village on the coast called Meera. They will leave you there, then return.”

  “How will you know when it is time?” Preena had asked.

  “I know already. The army will rest at midday. You will leave then. By nightfall we will reach the cliffs of Andoor.”

  Now as Preena and Ban rode for the last time on Tressida’s back she tried to determine what time it was. Doing so was impossible, she realized as she looked to see Vellus completely obscured by the clouds that now spun directly above them. She knew Ban would resist when he learned they were to be taken away. For that reason, she said nothing about Cerah’s decision, choosing to listen to his stories of the bravery of the warriors and of the mystical wonder of the wizards.

  After what seemed like a very short time, Preena saw the dragons that flew before her begin to land at the rear of the column, which had come to a stop. Tressida, however did not land with them. Instead she flew to the head of the army and she landed near Cerah and Slurr. A moment later two other dragons landed a short distance away.

  “This will be a short rest, Mother,” Slurr said as she slid down from Tressida’s back.

  Preena did not respond, and Cerah stepped to face her husband.

  “Darling, I know what strength and comfort having your mother and brother with us has given you. But they can no longer stay with us. The battle will be upon us very soon, and they must be sent to safety. You see this, don’t you?”

  A look of sadness passed across Slurr’s face, but he nodded his head at once. “Yes. Of course. I had let myself believe that they might be safe at the rear, but of course I was lying, to justify spending a little more time with them."

  “What are you talking about?” shouted Ban suddenly. “I’m not going anywhere. Take Mother to haven, yes. But I am fighting!”

  Slurr took a few steps and knelt before his brother, so that he could look him directly in the eyes. “Ban the brave! Ban the mighty! Brother, you have already done your part in this war. Without your help, we would never have known what Surok had planned. While the Stygian raids would probably not hurt us badly, thanks to you they did not touch us at all. And although my plan did not come to fruition, your part went flawlessly. You are a hero of the first degree, Ban. But you mean far too much to me to allow you to stay. I do not doubt that, if I armed you, many monsters would die at your hand. But we all saw the horrible fate of the young ones who fought against us. Many of my warriors are still far too young for my liking, but they have proven invaluable despite my hesitation at their being here. I cannot place you in the danger that awaits us. I just can’t.”

  Now Cerah approached, and she put her hand on Ban’s shoulder. “You have already done enough to have your name carved in wizard runes upon the walls of the Cavern of History. And I shall see that it is.”

  Ban began to weep. “Will you be alright, without me watching over you?” he asked them.

  Cerah smiled and said, “As great as you are, young warrior, One greater will be watching over us. We will be fine.”

  The little family spent a few more minutes together, minutes filled with both tears and laughter, and then the two waiting wizards held down hands to them, and each climbed upon one of the dragons’ backs. With a wave and a blown kiss to her son and daughter-in-law, Preena flew off. A moment later Ban raised his fist in salute. All the warriors of the Army of Light returned it, as did Cerah and Slurr. Loar Pilta called out, “Hail Ban, the mighty!” Hundreds of other voices echoed the hail. Then he too was gone.

  “They will be safe in Meera until we come for them,” Cerah said as Slurr wiped a tear away.

  The general took a deep breath and said, “Let’s get this army moving. We need to finish this, or there will be nowhere for them that is safe.”

  Without another word, he turned south and began to run once more. The army followed.

  Once again on Tressida’s back, Cerah was relieved to be out of sight as they made their final approach to Andoor. Yet another bout of sickness had come upon her, and she had to fight very hard to keep her stomach. She had again asked Tress to climb above the others until the feeling passed, but as the miles went by, she felt no better.

  “Tress, I cannot face Surok like this!” she said, her mental voice desperate.

  “Nightfall is still an hour off,” the dragon said to her. “Surely by then you will have improved.”

  “I hope so,” Cerah replied, swallowing hard.

  “Do you think they know we are near yet?” Tressida asked as she peered through the sheets of rain and sleet that poured down upon them. “In this blackness, even my eyesight of little use. I can see no more than a few miles.”

  “The standard magic reveal spell extends in a spherical shape at a distance of about three miles. I can make mine go out to almost ten. Zenk is a deceitful bastard, but he is a skilled wizard nonetheless. I have no reason to believe his spell will not unveil us before we see them,” her match-mate answered.

  “He will know sooner if we are aloft, won’t he?” the dragon asked.

  “He will. For that reason, I intend to ground the flight very soon, and to reduce the army’s pace to a normal march. We will all walk together the last few miles before we meet our fate.”

  “That is proper. It is dignified.”

  “It is also essential. I could not possibly run another furlong.”

  Not long after Cerah sensed that the time had come. She descended to where Kern and Szalmi were flying. “Kern, tell the flight to land. Wizard and dragon will walk alongside the warriors to meet the enemy.”

  Kern nodded gravely. “At once,” he said. He projected the order back through the flight, as Cerah and Tress landed near Slurr. He slowed as he saw them approach.

  “We will all go on foot the rest of the way,” she told him. “And we will walk. Let the warriors breathe easily for these final few minutes of peace.”

  Cerah looked ahead. Even through the gale she could see the landscape ahead was becoming rocky and uneven. She knew that the cliffs were near.

  As the army waited, flanked on both sides by grounded wizards and their wondrous beasts, Cerah drew in a deep breath. As she let it out, she used it to clear her mind, and to quell her queasiness. The nausea diminished, but did not vanish completely. This is as good as it’s going to get, I guess, she thought.

  She lifted Isurra above her head, causing it to glow a bright red. Then she thrust it forward, and the Army of the Light matched to the cliffs of Andoor.

  As Zenk flew behind Surok he suddenly saw the horizon ahead begin to glow a faint blue. It was the indication that magic was present in the distance. He flew as near to Surok as he dared. Still behind him, but closer than he’d ever been to the demon before, he calle
d out. “Master, the enemy is ahead. No more than five miles off.”

  At first Zenk was unsure whether Surok had heard him above the raging storm with which he cloaked himself. But a moment later the demon turned and faced him. He said nothing, but pointed to the ground. Then he began to descend. Zenk followed. They landed at the head of the black column of monsters, which seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. They ground to a halt as they saw their master climb off his gigantic beast and face them.

  As Zenk dismounted, the Mouthpiece walked to him. “You have served the Master to his satisfaction,” he said in his fractured voice.

  Zenk’s mind raced at the words. It was the first time he had heard the Silestran speak anything but demands and threats.

  As he looked ahead he saw in the distance a high cliff. Without a word, Surok began to walk toward it, Orzo ambling alongside him. The army fell in behind, matching the demon’s pace. As they marched, they began to strike their weapons against their bodies, making a drumming sound that echoed the rhythm of their falling feet.

  “March, wizard!” the Mouthpiece growled. Zenk began to walk as well, remaining abreast of the Mouthpiece. The vile Silestran turned to him and smiled, his crooked horrid mouth crooked, its fangs showing. “Is it not wonderful?” it asked. “Today you will see the end of your race!”

  Despite his longstanding animosity toward Parnasus, the pronouncement made his blood run cold. The end of the wizard race? That had never been Zenk’s intention. But as he plodded across the last muddy miles before reaching the cliff base, he realized that he’d been a fool to think the outcome would be any different.

  Perhaps I have been a fool every step of the way, he thought.

  At that instant, for no reason that Zenk could see, the Mouthpiece suddenly ran off, skirting the cliffs and vanishing to the west at a speed that only the Silestra could manage. As much as this confused the wizard, he didn’t have long to think about it.

  A few moments later, no more than a few heartbeats it seemed to Zenk, the army halted once more. They stood at the base of the cliff and looked up. Across the ridge above them stood the Army of the Light. At the very front Zenk could see the idiot general and the witch, standing beside her golden dragon. He tried to hate them as he once had, but his vitriol failed him. He realized they were about to become just another handful of victims of the demon’s wrath.

  He found himself wanting to weep, but he knew that if he did, the Silestra will kill him at once.

  Cerah and Slurr looked down into the lowlands before them. They were filled, as far as the eye could see, with Surok’s monsters, all of them beating their weapons against their chests. The very sound of it made the heart falter.

  As he looked across the sea of evil, Slurr’s resolve vanished. His army, valiant though it was, could not withstand a force of this size. For all his rhetoric and bravado, he knew in that instant he was beaten.

  “There are too many,” he said to himself. Cerah heard him.

  “There are,” was all she could say. She realized that this was exactly the scene from her dream, so long ago it seemed. She remembered her emotional speech to her forces in the dream, but could find no words with which to encourage them now. In that same instant, she too was beaten.

  As they stood, fearing the end was upon them, Parnasus walked to Cerah’s side. He meant to encourage her. He meant to promise her that all would be well. But as he too looked at the hundred thousand jet-black and grey faces, he could say nothing at all.

  They saw Surok now, showing himself plainly to them all for the first time. He stood at the head of his vast force, beside the giant topaz beast upon which he rode. Even as they gazed upon him, they saw him lift his hand. The sky, still whirling and roaring above them suddenly grew a bright crimson, as though the air itself was burning. Time seemed to slow.

  As Parnasus tried to open his mouth and scream in warning, a searing shaft of lightening began to stretch out from his fingers. It seemed to crawl, inch by inch up from the base of the cliff toward them. Cerah and Slurr looked on as it came closer and closer, unable to move, unable to do anything.

  Just before it reached the peak of the cliff, the bolt split into two shafts. As Parnasus finally found his voice, only to hear it leave him in a groan of utter horror, the twin bolts found their mark. One side struck Slurr’s head, the other Cerah’s stomach.

  Both fell dead before his eyes.

  20

  Light

  Light.

  All she was aware of was pure, brilliant, white light. It surrounded her. It infused her. It was her.

  As had been the case in the Under Plane, Cerah once more needed several moments to realize that she was, in fact, Cerah. The first cogent thought her mind formed was This is the Next Plane. For the otherworldliness of it felt to her much the same as regaining her self-awareness had in the woeful place of despair. But now there was no darkness, no cold, and no sorrow. Only light.

  She didn’t move. She felt no need to do so. Indeed, aside from determining where she might be, Cerah didn’t even feel the need to think. She didn’t need to do anything. She didn’t need anything. Every molecule of her being felt its own separate peace. She had no notion that she could feel so utterly wonderful, so perfect. If she was indeed in the Next Plane, and if being there meant an eternity of all-encompassing light and absolute joy, then she was satisfied for it to be so.

  But then a though forced its way into her consciousness unbidden.

  My children!

  If she was dead, then her unborn babies were as well. The thought infringed upon her complete placidity. In a realm of absolute contentment, she suddenly felt sadness.

  As if her very surroundings recognized her sorrow, the Light grew brighter still. She heard a voice. It was one she’d heard before, though only twice.

  “Cerah,” it said.

  The voice came from within the light that was her everything now. It came from all directions at once. It came from within her. It was Ma’uzzi.

  “Father God,” she replied.

  To her great surprise, there was a quiet, almost playful chuckle.

  “Well then. We each know who the other is!”

  “Great Ma’uzzi. If I am with you, then surely I am dead.”

  “Yes.”

  Cerah once more felt the total bliss trespassed upon. “Then I have failed you,” she said.

  “Nonsense. You have ever done all I’ve asked of you and more. Even now. You have loved and you have let yourself be loved. You have learned the servants’ craft, and you have grown it beyond its every border. Your example has reawakened the knowledge of my love to a world of people who had grown complacent and lukewarm. And you have brought my servants out of their self-imposed isolation to once more move among those I created them to help.”

  “But I have died, and Surok lives. He killed me before my forces could even raise a sword to oppose him.” The memory of the lightning came to her as clearly as if it were happening once again. “Slurr!” she cried. “Slurr was struck as well. Is he dead then too?”

  “Yes.”

  For the first time in the entire history of all that had ever existed, a scream of agony was heard in the Next Plane. “No! Not my Slurr! Not the love of my life!”

  “Cerah,” said Ma’uzzi once again. Despite her anguish, the sound of the Creator speaking her name smoothed the tearing fabric of her soul. She grew silent. In a matter of moments, she came to realize that she had lost not only her own life, but those of her unborn babes and her husband. Yet somehow anguish was borne away.

  “You are not here because Surok has won,” Ma’uzzi said. “You are here because I have a task for you. You will complete this task, then I will return you to the Green Lands. Your time to dwell for eternity with me is not yet nigh.”

  “I will live again?”

  “You will. As will your children.”

  Cerah’s heart, which was now as much all of her as was her mind and the light from which she seemed to be m
ade, leapt for joy. But then it faltered once more. It was not what Ma’uzzi had said, but what He hadn’t.

  “What about Slurr? Will You send him back as well?”

  “I will not.”

  “But surely you will not take him from me now!”

  “I have not taken him, Surok struck him down.”

  “Then what! Will he live or will he die?”

  Again, the gentle laughter.

  “I do not suppose you will let him die this time any more than you did the last.”

  Of course, Cerah thought. I will bring him back myself!

  “I suspect you will,” said Ma’uzzi.

  Now Cerah laughed. “I should expect you would hear my very thoughts,” she said. “I am used to that with Tressida.”

  “A very special beast indeed,” said Ma’uzzi.

  “But, Lord. What task would you ask of me?”

  “A very simple one. You are to descend to the Under Plane.”

  Cerah let out an involuntary gasp. The thought of returning to that vile realm painted a black streak though her ecstasy once again. She forced herself not to let a thought of disobedience enter her however.

  “And when there? What then?”

  “Empty it.”

  “What?”

  “Since before there was before I gave dominion over that place to Pilka. And from the first, she waited there for blackened sparks. Though I wished for all my creation to walk with me, in life and after, many turned away. I placed in them the will to choose, and they so chose. And when they turned their eyes from me, Pilka claimed them, for she had turned herself. I have been patient. For longer than your imagination can reach I have waited for all hearts to return to me once more.”

  “But those who dwell below know that now. I’ve have spoken with spirits from that realm and they recognize that separation from Your Light was both their route to the Under Plane, and their torture once there.”

  “Yes, although they realized too late to be saved. But now they are redeemed.”