With a sound like the end of the world, the band of light sliced a surgical line along the slopes, sweeping the peaks away like dust. It then continued off into the night sky, illuminating the landscape beneath it as it moved. The dust of the devastation rolled into the valley like a fog, briefly concealing the traveling horde of creatures. The dense cloud of debris settled quickly. When the air was clear, the mighty Ancients, the massive mountains that formed the rim of the valley, stood flat topped and equal. The towers still stood.
Myranda's mind was boiling. In the crucible that surrounded her, memories surged to the surface and burned away again and again. She felt the sum total of her experience cycle through her mind over and over again, in ever-smaller circles. Not just her experiences, but others. Thoughts she'd never had rushed through her mind, feelings she never would have imagined flitted in and out of her soul. Every one of them dealt with the towers.
The power flowing through her, consuming her, carried something with it. It carried the residue of its purpose. The knowledge of how to produce the towers drilled itself into her mind. Alongside it came the firm, irrevocable realization that there had never been any intention to cast them away. All that could ever be done was to summon more.
Her thoughts wrapped around this. That was the answer. Her eyes turned to the final mark on each tower. It was the activation rune Deacon had spoken of. Without it, there would be no spell. She drew together the power that was destroying her, forced it into the shape that resounded ever louder in her mind, and directed it at the runes, projecting it toward all three towers. The magic struck, weaving itself into a shape--then, suddenly, attaining substance. When the spell had run its course, the embossed form of the rune was filled, erased. The spell was incomplete.
There was a flicker and a shudder. The streaming light pinched off and trailed away. Darkness replaced the pale blue glow that had lit the valley. Now the only light came from the edge of the black gateway and from a point of fading light that dropped toward it.
A pair of wings approached the dying light as Myn, no longer facing a torrent of energy to hold her back, darted toward the glowing form. Snatching it out of the air, she carried the blue ember of energy toward the others. When the noble beast reached them, it lowered the form reverently to the ground before them. It was Myranda.
There was an intense aura about her that grew weaker with each moment. She was not moving. She was not breathing. Her eyes were unblinking, featureless pools of light. In her hand was the weapon crafted by Desmeres. Each of the three D'karon crystals along its length had shattered and her fingers had sunk deep into its surface, as though the staff had been soft as clay for a time.
Her body was whole, but broken. Bones were fractured. Blood trickled from her mouth. The Chosen looked upon her solemnly. Lain crouched beside her, putting his ear to her chest. He felt her head, her abdomen. His eyes conveyed a grim message. Every part of her was in ruins. For a moment, no hero spoke, their heads hung low. When the distant crackle of the portal and the thinning rumble of the flow of monsters was joined by a voice, it was Ivy.
"No," she stated. "No . . . they . . . they can't do this . . . They can't kill her . . ."
"I knew it would be one of us . . . I never thought it would be her. Fate made--" Ether began, for the first time a gentleness to her tone.
"Shut up!" Ivy hissed, a flare of red accompanying the cry. "If they are going to kill Myranda . . . then . . . there is only one thing to do, isn't there? If death is all that they understand then death is what they shall get!"
Each word surged the red aura brighter. Anger was succeeding where hate and fear had fallen short. The gems set in each blade adopted her hue of fury, thin red lines tracing their way along the wide blades in crooked, cruel patterns.
"Ivy, this can do no good. We have no way to heal her. Whatever can be done has been done," Lain said.
"No! You are wrong!" she said with a smile of madness. The blades split into three jagged blades. "I can make sure they never do anything like this again. I can make sure that NO ONE SURVIVES!"
With her final words, the anger finally took hold. The blaze of red consumed her and she charged into the black mass. Beasts large and small were reduced to ribbons by the vicious, serrated shape her blades had taken. As the rampaging form carved a path through the thinning herd, Lain stood and placed a hand on Myn's neck. The beast lowered her head, tears rolling from its great eyes as the still form of Myranda cooled.
Chapter 29
In the darkness, someplace between this world and the next, the defeated wizard's vision fell upon a new view. They were familiar, almost comforting surroundings for Myranda. Shifting, distorted shapes replaced land and sky. Bright, pure lights marked the souls of the living. The astral plane faded weakly in and out around her as the last lingering grip on her shattered body gradually slipped away.
She watched with relief as the portal, in this place a colossal, churning mass of pure energy and light, began to slowly draw together and close. The power that had surged through her was wicking away. Oblivion awaited her--and, though she was sorry to leave the others behind, she was ready for it. The ordeal had left her ruined. Spent. She was tired, and a final sleep lay invitingly ahead of her.
As she waited for whatever was to come next, she became aware of a presence. It was a blackness, without features, but in a shape the stung her mind. A shape she'd seen twist the shadows of far too many.
"Epidime," she said.
"You do fine work. Your world is now the fourth to close the door, and the first to do it so quickly. It is truly a shame to lose your world," he said, borrowing her own voice, as he had in his earliest torments.
"You had no claim on this world. It was ours and it will remain ours," Myranda replied.
"Yes . . . for the next few minutes, at least," Epidime remarked.
"What do you mean?" Myranda asked, concern in her voice.
"I realize that memories of life tend to slip quickly from your kind, but surely you recall all of the other portals, and what happened when they were closed," Epidime scolded.
Myranda searched her thoughts. She didn't have to search for long. The images of walls of raw energy flashed forth in her mind.
"No . . ." she said in horror.
"Yes. I had mentioned that the worlds that closed their portals no longer existed. Obviously, I've never seen it, but the shock wave from a portal this size must be a true thing of wonder," the black form mocked.
With that, Epidime vanished. The tattered remnants of Myranda pulled themselves together. Death could wait. Slowly, she clawed her way back to her body. Myranda's physical form began to struggle.
Myn's head shot up. The human made horrid, strangled sounds as she tried to draw breath into lungs that could no longer hold it. The broken gems of her staff took on a glow as her shattered mind gathered into a shaky focus. In fits and starts, the spells of healing began to flow, breaking through the agony and feeding on the residue of power that lingered from the onslaught. When air finally made its way into her half-restored lungs, she cried out, the words coming straight from her memory.
"Victory is a prelude . . . the . . . white wall . . ." she wheezed.
"I may have underestimated the human form," Ether marveled.
Myranda struggled unsteadily to continue as her wounds faded away. "The shock wave! The burst of energy that comes when the portals are closed!"
Ether's eyes turned to the portal. The creatures had entirely stopped pouring out of it, and the still raging form of Ivy had nearly cleared the valley, leaving behind little more than twisted remains. The shapeshifter's eyes looked past what physical eyes could see. Her mystically attuned mind judged the power of the failing portal, and sifted through what she'd seen of the other portals. With an intuitive knowledge of magic that Deacon could only dream of, she worked out in moments the potential threat. The result was immediate, and unprecedented. A look of total horror came to her face.
"We have to leave thi
s place. Quickly. QUICKLY!" Ether cried. There was fear in her voice. A creature who had shown nothing short of cold, steady, unshakable confidence now was trembling.
"There has to be a way to stop it. It . . ." Myranda said, leaning on Myn's head to get to her feet as her recovery began to slow.
"No! You don't understand! We can't stop it! Nothing can! It will be the end of us, all of us! The end of everything!" Ether cried. "Power like this . . . It will sweep the world clean. So much raw, unshaped magic. What it leaves behind . . ." she cried. "There is no telling . . . just a terrible randomness. Chaos incarnate!"
From within the valley there was a choked-off cry of fury, as Ivy's strength finally failed her. Half dead creatures that had been lucky enough to escape the bite of her blades were slowly hobbling toward her motionless form. Without a word Myranda climbed atop Myn and wiped away her wounds with more of her borrowed energy. With that, Myn took eagerly to the sky once more. As they turned to the task of rescuing their friend, Ether turned her attentions to Lain.
"Lain, we must go. We MUST!" Ether repeated.
Lain's voice was steady. "We will face it, and if it can be stopped, it will be stopped."
"How can you say that? I . . . I know you see yourself as a mortal, and for mortals death is a certainty. When a human dies it only loses a few years. You and I, we are losing eternity. You've got to come with me! The blast will weaken with distance. If we can get far enough away . . . I . . . I might be able to protect us," Ether pleaded.
In the distance, Myn swept down to the prone form of Ivy, plucking her up. Myranda managed to pull the unconscious creature to the dragon's back. Desmeres’s weapons chose that moment to jolt her to wakefulness. Ivy roused from sleep with a cry of pain. As her eyes focused on the rushing darkness below her, it was followed by a scream of fear.
"Easy Ivy, it is all right. How did you wake so . . ." Myranda asked, she was interrupted by a squeal of confusion.
"But you! You! YOU did it AGAIN! I thought you were dead!" Ivy yelled, shoving Myranda in mock anger. "Stop doing that!"
With that, the freshly awakened creature threw her arms around Myranda. For a moment Myranda marveled and admired Ivy's ability to so quickly accept the impossible events that seemed to occur so frequently in her life.
"Ivy, something very dangerous is about to happen, I am not sure . . ." Myranda began again, only to again be interrupted.
"Where is she going?" Ivy asked.
Ether had taken on her windy form and was making her way south with a speed only fear could bring.
"Myn, get Lain and my father and follow her!" Myranda cried.
The dragon dove, snatching up the stone form as Lain leapt to a place on her back. The load was great, and Ether was well ahead, but Myn didn't care. The blasted thing had been a thorn in her side since they'd met. Ether never ceased to look down on the others, to behave as though she were better than them all. For Myranda's sake, the dragon had let it pass, but now it was different. Now was her chance to prove something to the shapeshifter. She wouldn't get away.
Myn flew like never before, the icy breeze rushing over the heroes with gale force. Her mighty wings sliced through the air faster and faster, then cut back and let the wind rush over them. She skimmed in the mountain currents of air, taking every ounce of speed from them that she could. Slowly, steadily, the indistinct swirl of wind ahead drew closer. Below, the army of otherworldly creatures, beasts that had made it clear of the valley before Ivy's rampage, was marching. Before long, even the leading edge of the mob of demons was behind them, and Ether just ahead. Myranda called out to her.
"Ether! What are you doing!?" Myranda cried.
"I must not be destroyed, Myranda. I will not be destroyed!" Ether cried.
"You just have to face this danger. We have to face it together!" Myranda urged, Myn managing to bring the two heroes side by side finally.
"It is easy for you, human. Anything can take your life. You face death every moment of every day! For me, death was an impossibility until now! I had no use for courage because there was nothing for me to fear! How can I face this now!?" came Ether's reply.
"You can face it because you must! You can face it because this is your moment. The moment you were created for! Every second for you, since the dawn of time, has been counting down to this day! You can either rise to the occasion, damn the consequences, and do what you were meant to do, or you can run away and at best survive to live in an empty, ruined world for an eternity that can never redeem you!" Myranda said.
Ether was silent, slowing her flight. She considered the words. Deep inside of her, she felt something she'd always believed had driven her, but until now she'd never truly known. Duty. She looked upon the land with new eyes. When she spoke, the fear was gone, but the tone that replaced it was not the superior preen of old. It resonated with--for the first time--sincerity and respect.
"Very well, human. Lead the way. I am not certain we have a chance, but if I must die, let me die by my brethren. Let me die doing what is right," she said.
The Chosen backtracked to the level top of a low mountain to make their stand, a wide expanse only a few mountains removed from the valley. Ivy slipped from Myn's back and wavered slightly. The repeated outbursts without real rest between had wrung her spirit dry. She had the strength of body to stand, but barely the strength of will. Lain was weary, but no ounce of it showed on his face. Myranda, now devoid of the surge of power that had briefly used her as a conduit, was fighting to undo the ravaging effect it had had on her mind. Myn was breathing great, heaving breaths of the stingingly cold air, taxed to the limit by the chase. Ether merely stood, human once more, her eyes looking expectantly to the north. Had it not been so far and so dark, she might have seen one last form drop from the nearly closed portal.
"What can we expect?" Myranda asked.
"Chaos. Madness. Hundreds of years of energy released at once without will or form. Raw, untamed mystic carnage," Ether replied.
"How do we stop it?" Myranda pressed further.
"It cannot be stopped. It will continue until its reserves run dry," came the answer, Ether's voice a resigned, steady tone.
"If it is pure mystic energy, can we harness it?" the wizard suggested.
"I would imagine so. Insomuch as you can drink the ocean," she answered.
Myranda put her staff to the ground and traced out a large circle. Within it, she inscribed a triangle. Finally, she stood her staff in its center. It was a practice described in careful detail by Deacon as one that aided a link between wizards when they were to work as one. Ideally, she would have traced out a five-pointed figure, but Myranda's recent experience with the vast expenditure of borrowed power made it clear to her that it was an undertaking unsuitable for the untrained mind. Were Myn or Lain to be included, they might well be able to draw in the power, but there was no way that they would be able to release it again.
No, this was a task for herself, the shapeshifter, and . . .
"That last spot isn't for me, is it?" Ivy asked nervously as her friends took up positions at the other points.
"We need you," Myranda said.
"But I don't know magic," Ivy offered meekly.
"All you need to do is waste it. You are uniquely suited to that," Ether said, a hint of her old self in her tone.
Reluctantly, she took up her position at the corner of the triangle pointing toward the portal. The three joined hands and waited. They did not have to wait long. The tiny, faint fleck of blue light that was the portal winked out in the distance. It was silently replaced by a blindingly white filament of light that began at the ground and continued into the sky, piercing the clouds and showing through them. The line spread slowly, as though reality itself was being spread aside like a curtain to reveal the plane beyond. The sound came next. It was a tone at the edge of hearing, high-pitched and haunting, like a distant choir echoing through the dimensions.
The shaft of light bathed the whole of the mountain range in i
ts unearthly glow. It painted the clouds chalk-white and brighter than day. In Northern Capital, all eyes turned to it. Residents stopped their rejoicing and rebuilding. In a dozen forests across the north, woodland creatures stood frozen in terror of the sight. At the battlefront, soldiers standing at uneasy attention, awaiting long overdue orders and longer overdue reinforcements turned their backs to their counterparts across the border and watched as the hair-thin line of light pushed back the clouds.
In Entwell Num Garastra, wizards and warriors watched the light over the edge of the mountain and waited. They alone knew what it was. It was the last of Hollow's prophesies.
"What is that? What is behind me?" Ivy asked nervously, turning to look over her shoulder.
"No, Ivy. Not yet," Myranda instructed. "Just close your eyes and open your mind. Ether and I will do the work for now."
The shapeshifter and the wizard began to sink deeply into focus. What little energy was left inside of them began to spread and flow between them. Slowly, the line between their minds began to blur. The thoughts, feelings, and strengths of each hero joined with those of the others. The timid mind of Ivy rose beside the complex thoughts of Ether and the dutiful focus of Myranda. Like a boat caught in a current, without truly understanding how, Ivy felt herself aiding in the construction of a spell.
Outside of the ring, the drawn circle and triangle now beginning to glow, Myn and Lain became aware of something else. In the light cast by the beam, the mountainside spreading below them seemed to be alive. A low rumble was growing steadily louder. The twisted forms of the army of demons that had flooded from the portal had reached them. Myn looked upon the horde almost with relief. Now, at least, her role was clear. She stalked a few long paces down the slight slope of the mountain, dug her claws into the rocky soil, unfurled her wings, and waited. Lain drew his sword and followed suit.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 128