“He doesn’t seem to be aware of our presence,” the Dragon replied. “We need to get closer, but quietly. We still have the element of surprise.”
“He’s huge. I don’t know what use I would be in battle against him.”
“Trust me,” the Dragon assured him. “He will be just as surprised and confused as we are.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
The Dragon slipped from behind the arch. Khalid followed him, creeping over the rubble, and staying in the shadows. A low groan began to emanate from the far side of the cavern, causing them both to draw their blades. They stopped again, keeping their gazes focused on the giant. He appeared to be made of the same stone as the temple they had encountered before. He was pitted and eroded as the surrounding buildings were, yet still solid and unyielding. Khalid wondered how he moved.
The Dragon moved forward again, this time pulling Khalid into the same hiding spot with him.
“We should whisper now,” the Dragon said. “Although I don’t know what good it will do.”
As Khalid prepared to speak, the rumbling became louder. Pieces of stone fell from the ceiling, crashing into the ruins below. The floor shook, and many mineral deposits came loose and shattered on the floor.
Then, there came a deafening roar from the creature himself. The stalagmites and stalactites that had formed around him strained against his struggling. The smaller ones cracked and fell away, shaking the very cavern as they crashed down and tumbled away. Khalid covered his ears, shielding them from not only the rumbling, but the creature’s angry wailing. It was a deep sound, low enough in frequency to shake Khalid’s very soul.
“I have never seen or heard anything like this before,” he said. “It’s frightening.”
The Dragon nodded, keeping his gaze on the giant. Khalid dared another look, squinting in the gathering clouds of dust. The giant was nearly free, the stone formations that imprisoned it straining visibly under his strength.
The Dragon gently pushed Khalid back into the shadows, joining him to whisper again.
“Can you feel his power?” the Dragon asked.
Khalid nodded. “Yes, but mostly I feel my own fear.”
The Dragon grasped his shoulders again, calming him with his eyes. “Fear not, Khalid,” he said. “If he breaks free, Theia may awaken, too.”
Suddenly, the cavern shook with a force that knocked the two of them to their feet. The crash of stone split the air, it seemed, and Khalid could feel the pressure wave as well as the force of massive chunks of stone hitting the floor.
“I think he has broken free,” Khalid said.
Indeed, the giant was now leaned forward on his throne, his eyes glowing red as he scanned the cavern. His movements seemed slow as he reached out to pull himself up. The sound of grinding filled the cavern when he moved, and bits of rock fell from his body at the joints. It took nearly a full minute for him to stand, and when he did, he appeared as a god.
“Kingu,” the Dragon said.
“What?” Khalid asked, staring at the Dragon in question.
“That is his name. I can hear his thoughts.”
“What is he thinking now?”
“He knows we’re here,” the Dragon replied. “But we cannot let him find us until we are ready for battle.”
“Can you transform into the Dragon?” Khalid asked.
“Not yet. But I can feel my own power growing now. He is causing it.”
Kingu shouted loudly, his voice shaking the cavern again with its force. His words were incomprehensible to Khalid, but the Dragon seemed to understand him.
“What is he saying?” Khalid asked.
“He is telling us to show ourselves and give him our blood.”
Khalid grunted. “Why would something made of stone need blood?”
“He is unaware of our nature,” the Dragon said. “He believes we are his worshipers. For some reason, he cannot sense that I am a Firstborn.”
“He would not recognize another Firstborn if he has never met one.”
The Dragon pursed his lips in thought. Khalid was right. Kingu had been trapped within the Earth since the beginning. The only other life forms he had ever met were his own Mother spirit, and the creatures he had created. Even then, when his worshipers brought captives back from the surface, they would be too primitive to exude much power on their own.
“We need to get closer,” the Dragon said. “We have to find out where Theia is being kept. I am guessing the brighter orange light in the center of the ruins is her essence.”
Khalid nodded, following the Dragon as he crept inward. They wound in and out of the stone rubble, keeping to the shadows, peeking over and around the ruins to keep their eyes on Kingu. The giant Firstborn seemed to be scanning the cavern, his glowing eyes casting scattered rays of red light that pierced the darkness.
“Where are you?” Kingu’s voice boomed, its deep tone shaking the cavern. “Show yourself to me.”
“I understood him,” Khalid whispered. He saw the Dragon nod his head.
“Where are my children?” the giant continued.
The Dragon stopped, turning to Khalid. In his hand he held a skull that he had picked up off of the ground. It was humanoid in appearance, but horned and fanged much like Kingu himself. Upon its surface were millennia of lime deposits and the bone itself was pitted and fragile.
“He created them in his image,” Khalid remarked. “And now they are gone.”
The Dragon placed the skull back on the cavern floor. He stared at it for a moment, imagining how he would feel if his own creations had suffered the same fate; however, he had never been granted the power of creation. It was forbidden.
“What is it?” Khalid asked, sensing his turmoil.
“He created them,” the Dragon replied. “A Firstborn should never be granted the power of creation. Only preservation or destruction.”
“So?”
“This does not bode well. It may mean that Kingu has been feeding upon his own Mother.”
Khalid glanced at Kingu, who was now stepping toward the orange light in the center of the cavern. Though the light was still bright, Khalid sensed that it was not as it should be. Not that it should be brighter, but it seemed to him that it should be a different color.
“Does a Mother spirit’s energy reflect her mood or her health?” he asked.
“It would be different for each spirit,” the Dragon said. “Gaia’s energy is blue or green, depending on her mood. It is still those colors, regardless of how weak she is growing.”
Khalid sighed. “I wonder what color Theia’s energy should be.”
As the Dragon shook his head, Kingu took another step, quickening his pace and stepping around what Khalid could now see was a great circular formation; a pool, perhaps.
“Duck!” the Dragon whispered harshly.
Khalid’s head disappeared behind the ruins as Kingu’s eyes cast its red light in their direction. The ray of energy stopped at the collapsed wall they crouched behind and hovered there. A low growl shook the cavern, and the Dragon turned to look back at his priest. His face reflected his concern.
Kingu had spotted them.
Chapter Twenty Two
When Farouk returned, he found his friends gathered in Traegus’ summoning chamber. They were preparing to take their places around the arcane circle, and a vat of liquid was centered on the floor. Farouk carried the sack of soil he had gathered to the vat, and looked to Aeli from her instruction.
“Pour it in the mixture,” she said, joining Farouk in the center.
Farouk opened the sack, carefully pouring the dusty, dry soil into the vat. Aeli waved her staff through the stream of dust as it fell, charging the particles with her spell. When each clump of dirt and particle of dust hit the strange liquid, it immediately spread out and mixed in with the compound. Soon, the contents of the vat appeared as clay, shimmering with the magic of the Druid’s spell.
Aeli then knelt, nodding to Farouk that she was rea
dy. Faeraon, Traegus, and Maedoc looked on as he went to stand at his position around the circle. Farouk gave Faeraon a nod of encouragement.
“I have faith in Aeli,” Farouk said. Faeraon smiled sadly.
Aeli closed her eyes, laying her staff to the side, and held her hands above the vat of clay. The others could see her lips moving, but could not hear her words. They all felt the gathering of magic as she drew it from the Earth, using her own body as the conduit.
“Great Mother,” she spoke. “With this blood, this essence, and this clay, we ask that you create this being once again. Imbue it with your blessing, your power, and your love. Her soul wanders in Limbo without a proper vessel in which to dwell. Make it so.”
Aeli nodded to the others to get their attention.
“Focus on carrying that message to the Great Mother,” she said. “She will hear us. Farouk, ask your friends on higher planes for their help.”
Farouk closed his eyes, tapping his staff on the floor. A flash of blue light appeared, snaking out of his gem and striking the floor. Six balls of light appeared, growing into the vague humanoid shapes of what were once Defilers. Now, they were beings of light, exuding power into the air to assist. The others looked on in wonder, but quickly closed their eyes to focus on the growing magic that was gathering in their favor.
Aeli held her hands in the air, gathering the magic in her fingers, and letting it flow through her body. The Defilers, having taken their places in front of each participant, linked their tentacles together, causing the magic in the air to swirl tighter and tighter until it became concentrated around Aeli. She spread her fingers wider, gasping at the great power that was gathering.
Then, she lowered her hands over the vat, releasing the power into the mixture. Tendrils of liquid energy arced into it, disturbing its mass and shaping it like the skilled hands of a master sculptor. Aeli, breathless, stood and took her place at the point next to Farouk. She saw that Jodocus and the moorcat had awakened and were standing in the archway. She thought back at her conversation with Traegus and the effect that the spell might have on her beloved child.
Still, she said nothing. If it was the will of the creator, then Jodocus would take whatever form was required of him.
The mass of clay began to rise in the vat as the swirling magic sculpted it. Faeraon’s blood, mixed with Allora’s bones, provided the template. It began as a cone that jutted upward and twisted into the vague shape of a human body. The shoulders and hips began to form, becoming thicker as the clay was gathered there. Soon, a pair of arms separated from the main mass, twisting into their proper shape and becoming rigid as the bone formed inside them. Fingers sprouted and began to curl and grasp at the empty air. The head rose from the top of the formation, looking forward as its features were formed.
Aeli nodded to Traegus. “Now,” she said.
Traegus raised his staff into the air and began his summoning spell. Farouk took note of the incantation, as it was similar to the equation the Keeper had taught him to travel between worlds. But Traegus’ spell would not open portal to a parallel realm.
It would open into nothingness.
Traegus began to wave his staff in the air, drawing a great circle high above near the vaulted ceiling. A faint glow began to appear, swirling around the chamber in a large circle. Slowly, other circles began to appear within until the entire mass of energy was one great vortex.
Aeli turned to Maedoc. “Now,” she said.
Maedoc raised his own staff into the air, drawing the power of the Dragon. Red plasma arced around the staff’s tip, gathering power for a blast of energy that would disrupt the swirling blue above. Maedoc released the plasma, thrusting his staff upward toward the center of the blue mass. A blinding streak of red shot upward, exploding into the swirling magic. In the center, a tear appeared, growing wider as Maedoc chanted.
But it wasn’t enough.
The tear was fluctuating rapidly. It would not seem to open, no matter how hard Maedoc tried. It would reach a certain width, and then snap shut again. Maedoc’s power was not enough.
“Farouk,” she said. “Help him.”
“I am already trying,” he said. “The spell is not strong enough. There is something missing.”
“The equations are correct,” Traegus said, effortlessly swirling his blue energy. “Maedoc should be able to open by himself, much less with Farouk’s help.”
“Allora was able to open it from her side,” Aeli. “Albeit briefly.”
“We need a sixth,” Traegus said, looking at Aeli.
She swallowed in apprehension. She knew what he was saying. She was about the respond when Traegus’ eyes were suddenly torn away toward the area behind her. She turned, seeing Jodocus timidly walking into the room. He stared curiously at the growing mass of blue energy in the air, and the strange red light that came from Maedoc’s staff. He smiled as he looked around at the Defilers, giggling as they waved their long fingers in the air.
The boy walked into the circle, then saw the empty point. He ran to it, standing in the empty spot. Aeli began to tear as she watched his face darken. His childlike expression faded, replaced by a mask of mature determination.
“The circle is complete,” Maedoc said.
Suddenly, Jodocus thrust his hands into the air, casting another stream of snaking plasma that instantly wrapped itself around Maedoc’s own magic. The tear was pushed open again and the link was complete. The gate opened to full size, becoming a great, black void that filled the entire vault. From within, dim fingers of magic began to emerge. They flailed around, as if seeking something to hold on to.
“Come out,” Jodocus said. “Come out and be happy again.”
Aeli began to cry as she watched Jodocus. Her pride in him grew every second as she saw his power grow. Without him, the link would not have been possible. Now, he was drawing Allora’s spirit out on his own.
The fingers descended lower, wrapping themselves around the clay simulacrum that stood in the vat. They penetrated the surface, reshaping it to its will. Above, a glow began to appear, increasing in brightness as a mass of pure spirit came through the portal.
Allora had come.
The clay form reached upward, becoming more lifelike as the spirit approached. Jodocus grasped with his hands, as if pulling the spirit out of the portal. The mass continued to lower, reaching out to its new vessel. Faeraon’s eyes were filled with tears as he watched. He closed his eyes as a tendril of spirit reached out to caress his face.
“Allora…” he whispered.
Then, the spirit quickly swirled around the clay form, growing dimmer as it was absorbed. The caressing hand grew smaller as it faded into the form, and Faeraon held out his own hand. His face was filled with joy, having made contact with his beloved daughter after so long.
As the spirit’s light began to fade, the clay form began to move. It slowly knelt as its surface became the color of skin. Hair sprouted from its scalp, reddish brown and luxurious like copper. Aeli returned to her spell, calling upon the Great Mother to allow Allora’s spirit to link with the simulacrum.
“Go to her,” she said to Faeraon.
Faeraon obliged, moving to his daughter’s side and embracing her form as it continued to come to life. He held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes as they slowly opened.
“Come back to me,” he said.
Allora’s arms slowly rose, gripping Faeraon’s shoulders. “Father,” she said softly; weakly.
Aeli ceased her spell, knowing that her wish had been granted. Allora was now alive again, albeit weak, but she would soon return to full strength. The Defilers would help.
The six strange beings gathered closer to the center, rising to their full height and reaching down to caress her hair. One of them, the Defiler that had once been black in color, knelt down to assist Faeraon in steadying her. She gazed up at it, smiling in recognition.
“My friend,” she said. “You have been freed.”
“Allora,” Faer
aon said. She turned to look up at him. “It has been so long.”
“You never abandoned me,” Allora replied. “No matter how much I harmed you.”
“Never,” he said. “A father never abandons his child.”
Faeraon embraced her tightly as the others watched. Father and daughter had been reunited, and the task was complete.
With the help of Jodocus, they had succeeded.
“Farouk,” Aeli said. “There are others.”
He nodded. “I know how to bring them back,” he said. “And it is the same thing I must do when we finally face The Lifegiver. I know that now.”
Farouk raised his staff, pointing it at the portal. “Hold it open, Jodocus,” he said. “There are more.”
“We have no other vessels,” Maedoc said. “They would fade away if they came through.”
“Faeraon,” Farouk said, turning to the Alvar king. “You said they simply faded into Limbo, correct?”
Faeraon nodded, holding Allora close to his chest.
“Then they did not become separated from their bodies,” Farouk explained. “They are still intact. They only need to be changed back into matter.”
“It cannot be done here,” Faeraon said. “There would not be enough room. There are thousands of them.”
“Jodocus,” Farouk said. “Cast the portal outside, near the tower.”
The Corruptor and his dark army of demonic warriors gathered just east of Southwatch. The horde stood in a semicircle, with the Corruptor in the center. He glared at the tower, feeling the immense power that had been growing for the past hour. Something was happening there, he knew, and it was something that would greatly endanger The Lifegiver.
Something new had been born.
“There lies our glory!” Malthor shouted. The demons cackled in anticipation, hissing their glee at the prospect of spilling the blood of mortals.
“Our enemies gather to blaspheme against my master. They will not succeed. Destroy them all and feed upon their flesh.”
The demons howled, clanking their weapons together.
“March!” he shouted.
They growled, stomping their feet and beginning their ascent up the slope to the tower’s grounds. Malthor smiled.
Into Oblivion (Book 4) Page 22