Ally stared at him. “To you? Why?”
They shot over the world, mountains and forests hurtling past, and returned to the courtyard of Castle Bastion.
Alastarius sighed and closed his eyes. “He wanted help. The voices of the children of the void were destroying him. He wanted to renounce it all, the Black Council, the Warlocks, the black magic, everything, and he thought I could aid him.”
Ally stared at the mist. “Did you?”
“I wrought a spell that would keep the voices at bay. For a few years it worked. Marugon was free, for a short time. He lived with me, with my family.” Alastarius’s lips pressed into a hard grimace. “Then the spell shattered. The children of the void forced their way back into his mind, demanding that he free them. It twisted him into the monster he is now.” Deep grief crossed the old man’s face. “For a long time I blamed myself, even after he slew my family. If only I could have wrought a more powerful spell. If only I had done more. But it is futile. Marugon is what he is. His nature cannot be changed. If I had been wise, if I had been less a fool, I would have killed him when I had the chance. Much evil would have been averted.”
“You did what you thought best,” said Ally. “You tried to help him.”
Alastarius’s smile was brittle. “And I paid for that folly, did I not? And you paid, and Lithon paid, and millions of others have paid.”
“But what’s done is done,” said Ally. “You said he wants to free the children of the void. How is he going to do that?”
“The Tower of Endless Worlds imprisons the children of the void in the dark places between the worlds,” said Alastarius. “Destroy that, and they will be set free to ravage the mortal worlds once more.”
“Destroy the Tower?” Ally remembered the Tower’s immensity, its infinite bulk. “How can Marugon even do that?”
“How? My dear child, he has already begun.”
Chapter 7 - Two Swords
Anno Domini 2012
Arran stepped into a cavernous room. Massive steel girders supported the ceiling, and hulking machines loomed against the walls, their parts and gears rusted and corroded. Arran walked without sound, his eyes scanning the darkness. Nothing moved, and he heard nothing but the pounding of his heart. Ahead a blue light came from a row of glass tanks…
He froze in revulsion. “Dear gods.”
Each of the tanks held the corpse of a naked woman, floating in some kind of chemical brine. All the women looked to have died in agony. A nearby metal rack contained rows of glass jars of eyeballs, hearts, tongues, heads, hands and other dismembered organs. Arran scanned the glass tanks, praying he would not see Ally’s naked corpse among them.
He did not.
Anger rose up, mixed with his fear and apprehension. Such ghastly evil could not go unpunished. He stepped around the glass tanks and stopped. A steel table stood nearby, its surface stained with dried blood, and Ally lay on the metal slab, still wearing the jeans and T-shirt she had worn to bed. She looked unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. He felt a tremendous wave of relief.
But there was no trace of Goth-Mar-Dan.
Arran turned, scanning the ghastly tanks and the broken machinery. Where was the lord of the winged demons? Had he taken Ally here and then departed? Perhaps Arran could take Ally and flee before the winged demon returned.
He looked at his sword. The Sacred Blade shone with a faint blue glow, which meant there was a creature of the black magic nearby. Ally lay out in the open, unguarded. Like bait for a trap…
His Sacred Blade burst into white flames.
It was a trap!
He whirled and raised his Sacred Blade just as a winged shadow dropped from the steel girders and swooped towards him. The razor edge of a blade glittered, and Arran parried, his sword clanging from the force of the blow. Goth-Mar-Dan landed with a crunch, his sooty armor clattering, his eyes burning with the fires of hell. Arran parried the demon’s next blow, slipped to the side, and riposted. Goth-Mar-Dan leaped back, flapped his wings, and took to the air. Arran spun, trying to follow the winged demon’s weaving and dodging among the girders and broken machines.
“A Knight!” boomed Goth-Mar-Dan’s deep voice, crackling with twisted glee. “I thought we had killed all your kind!”
“You were wrong,” said Arran, scanning the darkness for the demon.
Goth-Mar-Dan howled with laughter, the echoes bouncing around the vast chamber. “What is one more? I have slain dozens of your brethren, Knight. What is one more before I enjoy my prize?”
Arran caught sight of a black wing and raised his gun. “You shall not.”
“And you will stop me?” Goth-Mar-Dan swooped low, hovered for an instant, and then soared away. The demon was taunting him. And why not? Bullets could not harm a winged demon, and even Conmager’s enchanted bullets would likely do little harm to the king of the winged demons.
But Goth-Mar-Dan thought Arran’s gun held normal bullets.
He did not know about Siduri’s blood.
“Then slay me, Knight.” The demon’s voice dripped with mockery. “Slay me and save the girl.” Metal crunched, and Arran spun. Goth-Mar-Dan had landed a dozen paces away.
Arran raised his gun and took aim.
Goth-Mar-Dan laughed.
The bullet shot from Arran's gun, encased in a ball of white fire. It slammed into Goth-Mar-Dan’s left shoulder. The winged demon howled in astonishment and pain, the fires of his eyes flaring. The second burning bullet smashed in the winged demon’s stomach, crumpling armor. Goth-Mar-Dan staggered, and Arran lined up his weapon for a killing shot…
Goth-Mar-Dan growled a phrase. Shadows swirled around him, and he vanished. Arran’s bullet slashed through the space the demon had occupied and crunched into a machine.
Goth-Mar-Dan knew the black magic. But how? Arran had never heard of a winged demon wielding…
He turned just as Goth-Mar-Dan reappeared behind him. The black scimitar lashed out, and Arran parried, staggering beneath the force of the blow. Goth-Mar-Dan growled and vanished again, reappearing a dozen yards above Arran’s head. The winged demon dropped down, scimitar point leading, and Arran flung himself to the side. Goth-Mar-Dan yanked out a pistol and fired, blasting holes in the concrete floor. Arran rolled, went to one knee, and leveled his pistol just as Goth-Mar-Dan took aim.
For a moment they stared at each other
Arran groaned, keeping his aim steady as he climbed to his feet. “Not again.”
Goth-Mar-Dan laughed. “Kill me, Knight. Do what no man has ever done.”
Arran said nothing, trying to calculate the odds. He guessed it would take at least three or four of the blood-dipped bullets to kill Goth-Mar-Dan, but Goth-Mar-Dan needed only one clean shot to kill Arran. Did the winged demon know about the Kevlar vest? Arran could not take that chance.
“Come now,” said Goth-Mar-Dan. “Let us settle this in the old fashion.”
Khan-Mar-Dan had said something similar. “What?”
“Blade against blade, Knight,” said Goth-Mar-Dan. “Just as my kin and your wretched Order have fought for centuries. Let us see who is the stronger. When I count to one, we shall point the guns at the wall. When I reach two, let us drop them. Do you agree?”
Arran watched the demon’s pale face. “Very well.”
Goth-Mar-Dan snarled. “Good. One.” He pointed his gun at the wall, and Arran followed suit. “Two.”
They dropped their pistols to the ground with a clatter.
Goth-Mar-Dan howled with glee, his left hand coming up, a second pistol gleaming in his grip.
But Arran had anticipated the treachery. He dropped his Sacred Blade and yanked the second pistol loaded with bloodied clip from his belt. Both Arran and the demon fired simultaneously. Goth-Mar-Dan’s bullet burned along Arran’s side, its force deflected by the Kevlar vest. Arran’s bullet smashed into the winged demon’s arm, and Goth-Mar-Dan. Arran fired again, as did Goth-Mar-Dan. His bullet knocked the gun from the winged demon’s hand, while Goth-
Mar-Dan’s bullet grazed Arran’s forearm. Arran’s hand shuddered in pain, and the gun fell from his fingers.
Goth-Mar-Dan howled and lunged for him. Arran had just enough time to snatch up his Sacred Blade and meet the attack. Goth-Mar-Dan swung, slashed and leaped back, his flapping wings adding momentum to the jump. He growled another spell, and black flames burst over the blade of the scimitar, radiating a deep chill.
Goth-Mar-Dan howled with insane laughter and charged to meet Arran’s attack.
###
“You remember your own journey through the Tower, do you not?” said Alastarius.
Ally’s mouth twisted. “I couldn’t forget if I tried, and I tried for years, believe me.”
“The holes in the walls,” said Alastarius.
Ally looked at the mist swirling around her knees. “I remember. I thought Marugon had made them.”
“You were right,” said Alastarius. “With the full might of his magic, Marugon could blast a small hole through the Tower’s walls and pull in some of the children of the void. But only a few, and they could not leave the Tower. The wards on the doors,” Ally remembered the deep-cut runes, glowing with green light, “prevented it.”
“Just what is the Tower?” said Ally. “How can it imprison the children of the void?”
“The Tower?” Alastarius shrugged. “The Tower is everywhere and nowhere at…”
“Oh, please,” said Ally. “That might be true, but it’s absolutely useless. What is the Tower, really?”
Alastarius smiled. “The Tower…well, in truth, I am not entirely sure what the Tower is. I will tell you what I do know. The Tower was built by an ancient race of great power. Some worlds worship them as gods, though whether or not they actually were gods, I know not. But I do know that these ancient gods lived before mortal creatures came to be. They knew that the mortals would come, one day, and wanted them to live in freedom. But there was another race, one that hated and feared the coming mortals, and wanted to keep them as cattle.”
“The children of the void,” said Ally. “How do you know all this?”
“I have learned bits and pieces, over the years,” said Alastarius. “Some scrolls I found in the ruins of the Forgotten Vales. Old books possessed by both the Wizards and the Warlocks. And the inscriptions on the Tower itself. I managed to decipher a few.” He sighed. “But Marugon told me much, before his mind shattered. The children of the void had been whispering into his soul since the moment of his conception.” He paused for a moment. “As you might have guessed, the ancient gods and the children of the void came to blows. The gods were victorious, and their foes were driven into nothingness, banished to the black places between the worlds.”
Ally blinked. “You mean outer space?”
Alastarius frowned. “The scientists of Earth have more knowledge of those places than I do, yet ‘outer space’ is a poor name. It is an unending gulf, a void of utter nothingness, a realm of eternal cold and silent darkness. In both the material and the spiritual realms, ‘outer space’ is a place of everlasting death.”
Ally nodded. “And so the ancient gods built the Tower of Endless Worlds to keep the children of the void imprisoned.”
“Yes,” said Alastarius. “The Tower was built on our world, on the Crimson Plain, but it touches all worlds. Endless worlds, Ally, worlds without number. The Tower is built of some stone harder than diamond, yes, but it is mostly a construction of awesome magical force. It touches all worlds, and forms the web of power that keeps the children of the void banished. The fact that one can use the Tower to travel from world to world is almost incidental.”
“Marugon might be powerful,” said Ally, “but I doubt that even he has the might to rip down the Tower.”
“The Tower is impervious to attack from without,” said Alastarius. “And even if one does manage to harm it, the Tower’s magic repairs the damage almost at once. But from within…ah, there the Tower is vulnerable to attack.”
“The holes Marugon blasted in the walls,” said Ally.
“Aye.” Alastarius closed his eyes. “After he fled from me, Marugon seized control of the Black Council. He devoted himself to the Tower’s destruction. He wandered its corridors, blasting hole after hole. I knew what he was doing. So I roused the Knights of the Sacred Blade, the White Council, and the High Kingdoms against him.”
“The war that overthrew the Black Council,” said Ally.
“It almost worked,” said Alastarius. “The Black Council was overthrown, and the Warlocks were slain, and Castamar was laid waste. The winged demons were scattered, and lands the Warlocks had held in their tyranny for centuries were freed. But Marugon fled through the Tower and vanished.” Alastarius sighed and shook his head. “The war was a mistake. It would have taken Marugon ten thousand years to destroy the Tower in that manner. It would have been better to let him alone.”
“What did you do after the war?” said Ally.
“I feared Marugon would return one day, or that he would find a way to cast down the Tower. I needed information. So I journeyed across the Desert of Scorpions, to the ruins where the Oracle of Time dwells.”
Ally shivered. “The Ildramyn? Arran told me of that thing.”
Alastarius nodded. “Aye. It tried to dominate me, but I was able to beat off its attacks, and it told me something of the future. It foretold me that Marugon would find a way to destroy the Tower on some distant world. And it told me that I would have to find a way to stop him.” He smiled. “But as Arran Belphon has no doubt told you, the Ildramyn’s foretelling is bitter. It told me that Marugon would return, and that I would die at his command. So I prepared. I trained Conmager and Siduri, and I prepared you.”
“Me?”
Alastarius nodded again, his eyes sad, his face tired. “Yes, Allara Marentine. You. In body, you are the image of my wife. But in mind,” he tapped his temples, “in mind, you are similar to me. Of all my children and grandchildren, you are the only one who had the potential to learn the white magic. So I prepared you. When I died, my powers, my knowledge, and my memory would pass to you.”
“How did I wind up on the Crimson Plain?” said Ally.
“The spell that passed my powers to you also put you into a deep sleep and thrust you into the spirit world,” said Alastarius. “You remained there, safe from Marugon and his minions, until Sir Liam reached the Crimson Plain with King Lithon, when the spell recalled you to the material world. Unfortunately, the soldiers were nearby. Luckily, Sir Liam was able to slay them. He took you with him, as I knew he would.”
Ally laughed.
Alastarius looked at her askance. “You find this funny?”
“It’s just…” She shook her head. “Arran curses your name. He thinks your Prophecy has manipulated and twisted his life. I thought he was merely bitter, but it seems that he was right. You were behind this all, trying to snatch something from defeat.”
“Aye, I was,” said Alastarius. “Arran is right to be bitter, I suppose. He crossed the High Kingdoms and the Tower seeking you, because Siduri told him to, and I told Siduri what to do. My mistakes have brought untold suffering and death to millions. Yet I did what I did because I had no choice. Sometimes there are no good choices, child, only a choice between degrees of evil. Once Marugon reached Earth and that wretched Wycliffe, the High Kingdoms would have been destroyed no matter what I did. Yet if I did nothing, then no one would have been left to stop Marugon.” He pointed at her. “Do you know why Marugon destroyed the High Kingdoms, the White Council, and the Order of the Sacred Blade?”
“Arran and Conmager think it was revenge,” said Ally. “But Marugon destroyed the High Kingdoms so no one could stop him. There would be no one left to oppose him. No one to stop him from throwing down the Tower.”
Alastarius nodded.
Ally frowned. “But what good would it do? Arran saw the Tower crumbling, but the children of the void still cannot escape. Marugon can’t break the wards on the doors. Else he would have already done
so. And even with his foes destroyed, it will still take him ten thousand years to destroy the Tower, even if he had a hundred times the power.”
Alastarius sighed. “That is no longer so.”
Ally felt a jolt of fear. She suddenly pictured the children of the void streaming out the door hidden in the white house’s backyard. “What?”
“Marugon has found a way to destroy the Tower,” said Alastarius, “and he will use it in a matter of days, if he is not stopped.”
“How?” said Ally.
“Take my hand, and I will show you,” said Alastarius.
Ally took her grandfather’s hand, and the world dissolved.
###
Goth-Mar-Dan laughed and took to the air. Arran gripped his Sacred Blade in both hands and wheeled, trying to follow the winged demon’s movements. Goth-Mar-Dan darted around a hulking machine, swooped up, and plummeted, scimitar spinning in dark circles. Arran yelled and met the attack, their swords clanging, white flames burning against shadow fire. Goth-Mar-Dan growled and launched a dozen blows in as many seconds. Arran parried and dodged, the black scimitar swooping in for the kill. Arran managed to dodge, the blade blurring an inch past his nose. He backed away, keeping his eyes on the winged demon.
Goth-Mar-Dan laughed. “Can you not hit me? I fought Liam Mastere once. You are nothing next to him.”
Arran blinked sweat from his eyes. “He told me of that. You fled from him.”
Goth-Mar-Dan showed his fangs. “And you are no Liam Mastere. You are barely a Knight.” He feinted forward, stepped back. “You cannot kill me.”
Goth-Mar-Dan was right. The winged demon was stronger and faster than any foe Arran had ever faced. The dreadful memory of Khan-Mar-Dan tearing Siduri’s head from her shoulders played through his mind over and over again.
He could not let that happen again.
“Come, then!” said Goth-Mar-Dan, his voice booming against the walls. “Are you so afraid to fight me? Then throw down your sword. I will let the girl go, if you surrender to me.”
The Destroyer of Worlds Page 11