Inside of Dunehain a sickly green smog smothered the air, drawing out Aren’s light and spreading it all around the city so that everything glowed that same terrible color. Dragons lay scattered on the ground, ornate breastplates and weapons that were just a tad too large for a human crushed underneath many of their skeletons. While the flesh and meat of the dragons and the Vazgun had worn to nothing under the assault of time, the weapons of war which Selth saw inside of Dunehain had weathered the same assault without a scratch. Bones of creatures, which clearly fit the armor she saw, were scattered about but fifty thousand years had destroyed most everything except the dragon bones, the armor, and the buildings of the citadel itself.
A sickening crunch sounded behind her and she spun around, sword leaping into her hand. Kant and Mattle were a split second behind her. Selth let out a strained laugh as she realized one of the dragon skeletons had collapsed after so long of standing unmoving, destroying the buildings it landed on. She turned back around and their group proceeded through Dunehain. The city was a marvel, she wished she could have seen it before dragons destroyed it. Suddenly she could. The corroded, half collapsed structures and empty streets littered with bones vanished and in their place tall, graceful people moved up and down brightly lit roads. Gorgeous works of art stood unguarded in the streets for all to appreciate and the buildings stretched five, six, seven stories into the air.
The vision vanished as suddenly as it had come and Selth collapsed to the ground with a cry, clutching her head in pain. “Selth!” Mattle cried in alarm, running to her, “What is it?”
She slowly pushed herself up off the ground, Mattle helping her get to her feet, and shook her head to clear it of the vision. “Nothing.” she said unsteadily, not sure how to explain what had happened, “I think this place is getting to me, that’s all.” She looked around at the destroyed buildings and dragon skeletons, illuminated by that sickly green light, and shuddered. Underneath all the destruction, the same streets and buildings which she had seen in the vision remained.
“Come on!” Aren’s shout broke her from her reverie and she moved after the mage, he seemed completely unconcerned with what had happened to her. As she kept following him along the massive streets, each wide enough to hold three carriages side by side, visions hit her by storm. It seemed as though half the time she was walking through the destroyed landscape of Dunehain with Aren, Mattle holding her arm protectively, and Kant stalking a step behind the mage and half the time she was walking through the most beautiful city in the world.
One moment a half-wrecked fountain was mostly concealed by sickening fog the next it was overflowing with water. A small crowd of graceful men and women reclined about it and listened to beautiful strands of music emanating from the harp of a bard. Then the vision was gone and Selth was left with the wrecked landscape once more only to have another structure draw her into a vision.
The most sickening experience of all was when her eyes passed over the figure of an enormous fallen dragon, its body crushing flat an area one hundred yards in length. She fell into a new vision, except this time it wasn’t of beauty and grace: Dunehain in a better time. This time buildings burned and those graceful men and women lay dead about Selth’s feet, their blood flowing in a shallow river down the road she stood on. Others rushed past her, dressed in flawlessly worked armor, and attacked the dragon which thrashed about on all sides, laying destruction to all it could see. “Ak’den el Rai” a voice shouted from behind her and a ball of fire roared over her head, power crackling across its surface. The fire hit the dragon full on and in an instant the entirety of the beast was ablaze. The dragon reared into the air, roaring with pain, then crashed to the ground, dead. But the flame spread on, killing the soldiers who had been nearest to the massive beast before it went out.
Selth gave a strangled cry as the vision faded and clutched at Mattle’s arm for support. “Selth, what is it?” he whispered in her ear, concern coloring his voice.
“Nothing.” she gasped, leaning up against the body of her friend, “Nothing I can explain. Let’s just get out of here as soon as possible.”
He looked down at her uncertainly but before he could respond Aren’s soft voice cut through the air, “This way.” The mage was standing pointing at a small marking cut into the side of one of the buildings. Selth’s worry and fear over her visions shattered when she saw the mark, Ancarth’s mark.
“Aren, why would the people who hid Ancarth’s staff use the mark of Ancarth in order to show where it was hidden. Wouldn’t he figure that out pretty fast if he came back searching for his stuff?” Aren shrugged a reply and she quirked an eyebrow but she followed Mattle after Aren, Kant, and Raxous into the dark passageway he indicated. There was no green smog in this chamber and Aren’s light receded back to the small circle it had been outside of the citadel. Cutting back and forth through twisting passageways, he led the group deep underground. There was no destruction present and Selth found herself staring in marvel at tapestries which still hung, untouched by time. A beautiful people were depicted, tall and slender with delicately pointed ears, the same people she had seen in her visions – Vazgun. Fine, slanted eyes stared out of perfect faces in scenes of battle and magic that surpassed those shown at the Academy of the Magi.
Still, Aren led them deeper into the underbelly of Dunehain. He barely spared a look for the objects all around him, hurrying forward as though he needed to reach his destination after so long looking for it. A small scuffling sound came from behind Selth and she spun to peer at what it could be. Nothing. She shook her head angrily; this city was getting to her far more than it should. Everything in it was already dead, there was nothing for her to fear. She turned back towards her group and ran to catch up, Kant’s cloak was just disappearing around a turning in the passageways. She hurried around that corner and froze. “Where’s Mattle!” she shouted, voice ringing loud as a gong in the silence of the corridors beneath Dunehain.
Kant spun around, sword in hand and glared at Selth. Then his face turned pale as he realized the same thing she had. Mattle had been walking between the two of them, Raxous at his side. Now neither the apprentice Inquisitor nor the wolf were present in the passageways. “What is it?” Aren hissed from farther up the corridors.
“Mattle’s gone!” Kant called out in his normal voice and Selth winced at the resounding echoes of his voice, “I’m going to look for him.”
“No!” Aren hissed, he paused and seemed to draw into himself. “It is as I feared.” he muttered. “Something is hunting us. We must run!” He turned and sprinted down the corridors, heading away from Selth and Kant.
Kant stared in disgust at the receding figure of the mage. “Go with him.” he turned towards Selth, “The two of you can find what needs to be found but if something’s hunting us, and it has Mattle, then I’m going after him. Maybe I’ll serve to distract the creature from the two of you for a while.”
She swallowed hard and nodded, reaching out a hand to grasp Kant’s shoulder in a gesture that spoke of heartfelt gratitude. He nodded to her then sprinted past, back in the direction Mattle had disappeared. Selth turned between the two possible directions of travel, torn which way she should go. Mattle had saved her and he was in danger. She needed to help him but she also needed to know where Aren was going and something pulled her in the direction of the mage, something she couldn’t explain. With a scream of fury, she sprinted after the mage.
She followed the footsteps that she heard ahead of her, her eyes working in the dark without the presence of Aren’s light. She moved through the twists and turns, following the path of symbols that Aren had started her down. However fast she ran though, the mage always seemed to be just ahead of her. Until, with surprise, Selth realized that the footsteps had stopped completely. One moment they were there, the next it was as if no one had been in front of her at all. She slowed to a crawl and carefully moved up to the turn where the footsteps had vanished. Quickly, she peeked her head around a corner and
clapped her hands to her mouth, covering a scream.
A traiganidorian stood in the corridor, massive form hunched over so that it could fit inside the small passageways. At the far end of the same corridor another traiganidorian stood, pulling the unconscious shape of Aren behind it. Each of the creatures was different from the one she had initially seen but each was horrible in its own way. The one dragging Aren seemed to contain all the tormented faces in the world, screaming in agony beneath its skin as it moved. It was rail thin and humanoid in shape but every limb was distended far past anything that could be considered normal. It moved with twisting strides that spoke of pain.
The traiganidorian that didn’t hold Aren turned and faced Selth. It was a hulking creature, spikes protruding from every aspect of its form. It wasn’t as tall as either of the two traiganidorians she had seen before but it made up for the loss in height by being far wider and bulkier than either of them. The creature’s face swirled in on itself and consumed matter everywhere it looked. As it twisted to face her, the beast’s bulk seemed to flow and lose its shape then reform into the terrifying beast she had initially seen.
With a roar that shook the halls around her the traiganidorian thundered forward, dust rising with every step and tears forming in the walls wherever the beast touched them. As it moved it grew larger and larger so that even hunched over it began pushing into the ceiling, destroying it as it moved. “Die Selthraxadinian!” it roared in its black tongue and the world shook and shifted, the horror of the voice enough to destroy reality. Selth felt her legs quake and she sank against the wall behind her. She desperately tried to push herself upright and move away from the beast. Tried to run, to escape the death that was approaching her.
When half the distance between her and the traiganidorian had been closed she finally managed to get her legs working. With a look of terror at the approaching monstrosity she wrestled her sword from its sheath and ran in the opposite direction. Her legs barely worked and with staggering steps, smashing into the walls on either side of her, she moved towards any hope of escape. Darkness surrounded her, trying to push her to safety but after only twenty feet she collapsed to the ground with a cry. The roar of the traiganidorian sounded again and with shaking hands, fear consuming her whole body, Selth turned to face her death.
The traiganidorian lunged forward, its whole body stretching until only a thin streamer remained and with a thunder that shook the world it reappeared in front of her. She stabbed her shaking sword into the creature’s stomach but the blade vanished in a puff of smoke as it encountered the body of the demon. “Time for you to die.” the traiganidorian laughed, swiping a spiked claw at her face. Darkness rushed in around her, swarming over the chains which bound Selth, cracks spreading across them, and with a cry of despair she threw her hands in front of her face.
Her eyes widened as she realized that the traiganidorian had stopped moving. Then she shook her head, it hadn’t stopped moving. It had just slowed down, she looked around in wonder and saw that time had changed to an infinitely slow pace. Particles of dust were frozen in midair, not moving a micrometer from where they floated. She swung her eyes back to the traiganidorian and they widened further. The chains which had bound her for so long were exploding off her wrists as she watched. Expanding in a cloud of debris that left an echo of evil behind her eyelids. Just as the traiganidorian’s spiked hand was about to touch Selth’s head the chains fell away completely and everything around her turned white.
She heard a distant scream as the traiganidorian flew back through the air and smashed into the stone passageways beneath Dunehain. It was unimportant. Memories flooded back into her, memories from a life that had extended past time itself. Knowledge of powers unknown to any mortal, to any other power of the multiverse. Adventures, tragedies, destruction on a scale no mortal mind could imagine. It all came back to her – pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t known pieces were missing to.
Selthraxadinian smiled as her plan fell into place.
31
Selthraxadinian
I have met with Shattrenlix and we have reached an agreement. He does not appreciate that I have escaped the prison he built for me but he cannot put me back, he knows he cannot hold me. Now all that’s left to do is wait.
– Journal of Selthraxadinian
Slowly the pulse of power faded and a cruel smile carved its way onto Selthraxadinian’s features. She stepped forward, down the corridor which had been nearly destroyed on all sides of her, and moved towards the huddled shape of the traiganidorian. Darkness twisted out in chains from her and bound the creature to the ground, immobilizing it. “Can’t have you running off to tell your master what just happened.” she bent down to look the thing full in the face.
It twisted, trying to get away from her and she allowed herself a small, gloating smile at the beast’s expense. So eager to attack as long as it was sure that it would be victorious. Bring in a higher power and the thing would turn tail like a field mouse under the hunting eye of an owl. Darkness rushed in all around Selthraxadinian and with a swirl of her cloak she left the chained traiganidorian where it lay.
Following the obvious trail of corruption which the traiganidorian dragging Aren left, she made her way forward. Atlatraigan waited ahead for her and it wouldn’t do to keep the Lord of Hell waiting. She stalked along the corridors, drawing darkness closer and closer to avoid the detection of Atlatraigan and his minions. As she moved, the citadel of Dunehain resolved its place in her mind. Selthraxadinian grew grim at the memories. She remembered herself standing atop the walls of Dunehain with a hundred thousand Vazgun to either side of her. But Vencoth the Destroyer had been too strong an enemy and her power had not been great enough to stand against the pure hatred that drove Vencoth and the citadel of Dunehain had shattered beneath her feet.
The council of twelve decided to cast their spell of destruction, against her wishes. She had told them there was another way to save their citadel, to send Vencoth to another planet where he could not harm them, but the council would not agree to the destruction of another planet in place of their own and she had watched as the greatest civilization of Aulternanden fell into ruin.
Selthraxadinian shook the last vestiges of the memory away as she moved into the main council chamber. Vencoth’s skull lay on the floor, taking up half the space of a chamber which was almost a hundred meters across. It was surrounded by pieces of ceiling. He had managed to break into the chamber just as the spell was cast and served as a reminder to her of the dangers of hatred. The black feeling could drive a person to do many things which would result only in loss for all.
She refocused, Atlatraigan stood in the center of the chamber, Kant and Aren kneeling before him. She twisted and shaped the darkness around her, drawing shadows and light into the illusion so that she was invisible to everyone in the room. The eight remaining traiganidorians stood around Atlatraigan, including the one she had destroyed on her journey to the mountains and who Atlatraigan had remade in the bowls of Hell.
“Where is the girl!” Atlatraigan roared, backhanding Aren in the face. The old mage had been right in front of him but at the slap his head cracked back and he flew twenty feet through the air to land at the feet of a traiganidorian. The massive creature laughed, bringing images of universal destruction and torment to mind, then kicked the mage back to Atlatraigan.
“I don’t know.” he panted in a voice wracked with pain, “I told you, we were separated in the tunnels. I don’t know where she is.”
“And what about you?” Atlatraigan demanded, spinning to face the huddled form of Kant, “What do you have to say about this . . . story.” He spat the last word with disgust. Selthraxadinian grinned from inside her magical shield, she had come right at the good part.
“I don’t know.” he growled but his voice was tight with pain, “I was separated at the same time as the two of them.”
Atlatraigan rocked back on his heels thoughtfully, peering down at the Inquisitor as though looki
ng at a particularly bothersome insect. Strands of power flowed between his eyes and Kant’s, and finally he nodded. “I believe you.” he casually reached out and snapped Kant’s neck with one hand then turned towards one of the traiganidorians. “And what about the other one?” he asked calmly, “Where is the other Inquisitor?”
The beast shifted uncomfortably, looking at its feet as though trying to avoid the question, then looked up at him. “He got away.” the voice howled of pain and torment but somehow it conveyed such a level of terror, terror of Atlatraigan, that Selthraxadinian wanted to comfort the beast. “That one managed to get him free.” the traiganidorian indicated the broken form of Kant.
Surprise flashed through her mind and Atlatraigan rocked back a step, “He,” the Lord of Hell indicated Kant, “Fought off you.” The traiganidorian nodded fearfully and Atlatraigan laughed the coldest laugh in the world, “Then you will be punished.” He somehow made that word punished promise the worst torments imaginable, promise torments beyond imagination. Then he turned back to Aren. “Ancarth, Ancarth, Ancarth. What am I to do with you?” he asked in a voice that was sickly sweet in tone. Selthraxadinian felt her bones turn to ice. That was not something she had expected, even after Aren used so much magic that seemed related to Ancarth the Black. The mage had been so kind all the time. She scowled angrily at herself, her mortal needs for love and affection had gotten in the way of the cold hard reason she usually used to assess situations. Atlatraigan kept talking, “You were supposed to bring me the child, yet what do I find you doing? Sneaking into Dunehain so you can reclaim your oh so precious staff and scepter.” He reached out and pulled an intricately carved staff, made of black wood with silver inlay running up and down it, out of thin air and tossed it to the mage. A scepter of similar make followed. “Well here you are and here are your precious tools.” Aren was eying the staff and scepter with uncontrollable greed, Selthraxadinian saw with no small amount of disgust, “Yet where is my prize? Hmm, mage?”
The God in the Shadows (The Story at the Heart of the Void Book 1) Page 32