by Jordan Baker
"Why?"
"You could be trapped here forever."
"But it's quiet here, and haven't you noticed? There are no shadows in this place."
"Don't you want to make things right? " Jax yelled as the vortex grew more powerful, dragging him and the book into it.
"You live your life, Jax," Dash said, and he raised his bottle and smiled as Jax was whisked away by the book.
*****
The streets of Maramyr were filled with smoke and fog, made darker by the storm clouds overhead. Aaron walked through the city, his nose rankling at the stench of death and all manner of things decomposing. Gone was the lively, bustling city he remembered, now replaced by a dirty, oppressive atmosphere of despair and desolation. The few people he saw out on the streets appeared sickly and walked slowly, their tired eyes glazed over, staring forward and unblinking, in a daze, ensorceled by dark magic. Aaron noticed that the city also looked different and, as he strode deeper into its center, he saw that the area where the five great temples once stood had been all but destroyed. The only structure left standing was the new temple of the dark god, which was thrown into sharp relief by the rubble that surrounded it and the once neatly cobbled streets that were now cracked and strewn with refuse.
"A fitting scene," Stroma commented in Aaron's thoughts.
"I don't understand this," Aaron said, looking around at the damage. "I know the dark power seeks to consume, but what is the purpose in such destruction?"
"Perhaps it is a message," Stroma said. "If you noticed, Kenra's temple has been destroyed as well."
"Yes," Aaron said, glancing over to where the temple once stood as he continued onward through the city. "But what purpose does that serve?"
"None," Stroma replied. "Except to declare that the gods no longer matter and this new god is a different power completely. I suspect that Kenra, as he once was, truly is no more."
"What was he like, before?" Aaron asked, a little curious.
"Are you finally agreeing to let me share some of my knowledge with you?"
"I am asking you a simple question," Aaron said. "But we can go back to not talking if you prefer."
"No, it's fine," Stroma said. "Describing a god is difficult, but if you want to know Kenra's personality, he was always suspicious of things, distrusting of the other gods and saw the world as a chaotic and difficult place."
"I would think he would thrive on chaos."
"In a sense, but only the chaos of destruction, and even then, only as a means to an end, that being his expression of jealousy and anger. Perhaps the thing that Kenra hated most of all was the chaos of life. It bothered him that others, the gods and the various peoples of the world, even the creatures of the forest, could choose their own path. Such things threatened him, for he trusted no one. Out of that obsessive fear, he always sought obedience and control, though he called it peace and order, and for those who would refuse him, he offered only destruction."
"That isn't much of a choice," Aaron commented.
"Not particularly, no," Stroma agreed.
"I am surprised that he would have a temple at all. I can't imagine anyone worshiping a god who offers only obedience or death," Aaron said.
"There are many who fear the world and see the will of others only as a threat. Such are the cowardly, the craven souls whose hearts are dark, for they choose not to shine with their own light, but become like shadows, mocking their own truth as they take refuge within their shame. They are weak for they embrace fear, and they are easily manipulated by the one who would affirm their weakness and salve their fears by offering them a false path while naming it truth, when the truth is that there is no path.
"Kenra's way was to obscure the truth through secrets and mysteries, things only his followers would know, making them feel trusted amongst one another, as initiates, without any actual respect or honor. It is not unique, but there is a seduction to such power, for it is easy for the weak to grasp and requires little presence of mind, and in the case of Kenra's followers, the foundation of their view is the belief that they have been wronged and thus justified in their distrust and hatred of the world."
"How were they wronged? Were they cast aside by the other gods?"
"Not at all," Stroma said. "We have always welcomed all to commune with us, even Kenra, but our light is perhaps too bright for those who doubt themselves."
"So even Kenra has such doubts?"
"Kenra was born of doubt," Stroma said, his thoughts turning bitter and dry.
"Then that is his weakness," Aaron suggested.
"At one time, perhaps, but Kenra turned that weakness into power. And while is not true strength, it is power nonetheless, the power to destroy."
"What is the point of it?"
"That is exactly the point, there is none. Kenra and those who followed him pursued a fruitless course, and in the end, they turned on one another, his followers, threatened even by their own, set to fighting one another, over the pettiest of differences, for any difference was thought to be a betrayal, any act that did not conform was seen as willful and offensive, but how is it possible for so many to conform to something that can only be defined by comparison? It isn't, and thus Kenra's followers set to destroying themselves."
"What about the other gods?" Aaron asked. "Couldn't they have done something to stop them?"
"We tried," Stroma told him. "But this only fueled Kenra's hatred, and as suspicious as his followers were of each other, they were more fearful of those who might try to help them, especially those who had any power. They saw our compassion as condescension, our pity as patronizing, and our mercy as manipulation, so ingrained was their fear and mistrust of all things."
"What happened in the end? The temples were all empty when I was here last, and the gods have been away from the world for a very long time."
"In the end, a war broke out between various peoples of this world, and we tried to convince Kenra that it would be better that the gods themselves did not fight, for doing so would risk all things. Kenra agreed that we should leave the waking world and depart to another realm, a place we call Etherium, which is a different existence, a realm of dreams. We agreed that we would not entirely abandon the world, but that we would no longer act directly within it. That is why I created the books, as a means for each of the gods to commune with those who might choose to seek us out."
"Things did not turn out that way," Aaron said.
"No, they did not," Stroma said. "Kenra betrayed his promise and tried to trap us in the other realm, but his brother Kroma fought him and dragged him to Etherium before the paths between the worlds were closed. It was a disaster and as you know things did not work out."
"And now Kenra's power has grown once more and his shadow seeks to consume the world."
"It is not his shadow, Aaron."
"Isn't that his power?"
"No," Stroma said. "The shadow is far older than Kenra. As I said before, Kenra was born of doubt, and with the knowledge that the shadow is so much a part of him, perhaps he is as much a child of the shadow as he is a god."
"In your memories, I saw a great battle, and I saw the world burn," Aaron said, broaching something that had weighed heavily on his mind.
"Yes, what of it?" Stroma asked, expectantly.
"It was all to stop the shadow, wasn't it?"
"Yes it was."
"And it failed."
"Yes, it seems so, for the shadow has returned."
"Is it true that you are the oldest of the gods?"
"I am, or at least I was until very recently, but I am no longer truly a god, Aaron. I am but a memory."
"It is your memory I am interested in."
"Ask your question," Stroma said. "What is it you would like to know."
"How did the shadow come to be?"
"That is something I do not know. The shadow arose and we fought against its darkness."
"And how did the gods come to be?" Aaron asked.
"We were born."
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"Of other gods?"
"In a sense, yes, though our existence was different than merely bone and flesh."
"Who was the first god?"
"The gods have always been."
"But if the gods were born, then they haven't always been."
"In some form or another, we have always been. I cannot articulate it beyond that using mere words, for only a god may know the truth of this."
"Another question," Aaron said.
"Ask as many as you like," Stroma told him. "It is all I have left, and you know as well as I do that there will come a time when I can answer no more. The shadow consumes me as much as it consumes you, and there is far less of me that remains, thanks to a certain young dragon girl."
"I do not think she meant to kill you," Aaron said.
"She most certainly did, but I know she did it to protect you, so I cannot be entirely upset about it." Stroma thought about mentioning how it was strange that Lexi would have known how to use the godsword the way she had, and that he was almost certain that a certain whisper in her ear might have had something to do with it, but he thought the better of it. It had never been his way to sew seeds of doubt, and he was not about to start now. And if he was correct, then perhaps it was only fitting, considering what he had done.
"When you created the book, did you always intend for there to be five copies?"
"No," Stroma said. "I intended to make only the one. I made the others so each god would be able to commune with their followers."
"And when the books are combined, will the one book be more powerful than the five copies?"
"Yes," Stroma answered. "Why do you ask?"
"Is the true power of the book to enslave the minds of those who read it?"
"No, that is Kenra's power, a form of death magic that he has created and spread using the books."
"So if that magic were removed, the books would simply be a way to talk to someone far away?"
"A little more than that, but that is generally its purpose."
"And specifically, what was the reason behind the one, the first book you created?"
"It was meant to be a gift," Stroma told him, and Aaron could tell that the god was slightly irritated.
"I understand," Aaron said, and he let it go, and asked another question. "Is there a way to break Kenra's magic without destroying the books?"
"Yes and no," Stroma replied. "You must combine the books to break his connection to them, so in essence four of them will no longer exist. As for the remaining book, there is no point in allowing it to remain, since it could be misused, even by a clever mage, like that Dakar."
"You did something to him."
"I saved his wretched life, if that is what you are asking."
"But you cursed him as well."
"That depends on your perspective."
"I suppose that's true. How did you do it?"
"I thought you didn't want my help?"
"I will not become one with you, Stroma."
"It would make things a lot easier if you did."
"Who would I become?"
"You would still be you."
"No, I wouldn't."
"Do you hate me that much?"
"I don't hate you. I just don't want to be you."
"I suppose I can't blame you for that."
Aaron made it to the palace, and the spell he had created allowed him to pass the guards unseen, while the ward he had placed on himself blocked the power that came from within him, along with the shadow. So far, it appeared that he had not attracted the attention of the god, though he could feel a power searching for him, like icy fingertips crawling up his spine. It was irritating and distracting considering the blinding pain in his head that grew worse with every passing moment. Aaron had noticed that the shadow that hungered within him would rise and fall even when he did not use his power, and the shadow always awoke when he felt like he was being watched. He knew it was the dark god, searching for him, and he had waited until the power had turned away from him momentarily, and he was close enough to Maramyr, to set the block on his own power and lock it away along with the shadow. The spell was similar to the ward he had once suffered under, and whole it was painful to endure Aaron also knew it would not last. As long as the spell would obscure him long enough to find the book, for that was what mattered.
With what he had learned from Stroma, he hoped that if he could break the magic that bound the mages and the people, then it might be possible to fight the dark god and the power of the shadow, but there was still the problem of the magic of the temple the god had built. At the very least, Aaron hoped he could destroy it with the power he gained from the world around him, the way the Ansari had taught him. After that, it might fall to others to defeat Calexis, who had become one with the dark god. It was strange, Aaron thought, for the gods to become different people, but from what he had learned from Ehlena and what he had glimpsed in Stroma's memories, it seemed that this was once the way of things in an age long past. Aaron did not think it was so terrible a thing to become one with a god, since it apparently required willingness for such a thing to be possible, but it concerned him that the magic had been corrupted by Kenra, for if the people's wills were enslaved, then they might have no choice should the god or the shadow wish to move among them.
Aaron made his way through the palace, following the tug of the book, his magical senses able to feel it, with the help of Stroma, the book's creator. He was not surprised when his path took him into an older part of the palace and he found a wall that appeared as though it had been closed off long ago and had also been very recently disturbed. Aaron hoped he was not too late, for it was possible that the dark god might be able to sense its whereabouts and could easily have anticipated where he was going, since the quest for the book was no longer a secret. Stroma assured him that only he and Aaron could sense the resonance books, so long as they remained closed, and he suspected that the final book was somewhere the dark god could not reach.
Aaron ducked through the gap in the stonework, then he walked down a wide corridor that was distantly familiar, yet somehow felt like it was from a different world. Even though it was dusty and dark in this part of the palace, Aaron knew he had been here before, and he remembered looking around as people talked with one another, smiling jovially at him as they passed by, going about their daily lives. It was strange to have such images appear in his thoughts, long buried memories that were now awakened.
"When was I here before?" he asked, not expecting an answer.
"When you were but a child," Stroma said. "You are recalling things past."
"Then this is the place where I was born."
"You already knew that."
"Yes, but for a long time, I could remember only the fire."
"Your memories were blocked by the mage, along with your power. When I spoke to Stavros about it, he told me it was to protect you from the shadow, and to protect you from yourself, so you could have a chance to grow up without that burden."
"Only to remember it later," Aaron commented with a hint of bitterness.
"If you had spent your childhood reliving that memory, there is no telling what might have become of you. You might have also tried to use your power, which would have made it all the more difficult to keep the ward in place."
"It just feels like a lie. All those years, living with Tarnath, believing that life was simple and laughing about stupid things, and he knew about everything the whole time."
"What would have done, Aaron?" Stroma asked. "What would you do if you were in such a position?"
"I don't know," Aaron said, after a moment.
"Until you figure that out, then there is no reason to condemn the actions of others. I could sense no malice in Stavros, and from what I knew of his brother, Tarnath from all those years I spent lurking around the Academy in my own little exile, he seemed to be a good and honorable man."
"I just wish things were different," Aaron said. "I still cannot believ
e that I killed them. No, that's not right. I don't want to believe it, but I know it's true. I have seen it, over and over again."
"How much of it do you truly remember?"
Aaron realized that he was now standing just outside of a doorway that was the entrance to the room where the fire had been. So focused was he on the memories that plagued him that he had almost forgotten about the book, and he found it strange that it might be hidden in such a place.
"I remember shadows and darkness, and a dagger, and I remember feeling pain. There was yelling, and I remember my mother's face and I remember the king with his sword. They fought someone, but the pain was too great, and that was when the fire happened, and I burned them all."
"Then let us face your memories," Stroma said. "For it appears the book is in that room."
Aaron took a step forward, entering the room, and numerous visions ran through his thoughts. He saw a woman, the queen, her elven features hidden under her hair, but still very noticeable in her expressions. She smiled at him, then she turned as a young girl, barely old enough to walk came into the room. The king walked behind her, his eyes twinkling as he watched his daughter take several steps toward her mother, then he reached for her as her legs folded and she landed, sitting on the floor. The king towered over her and she looked up at him and burst into laughter. She turned to her mother again, and she stared curiously at the infant she was holding, then she crawled toward them, with a look of determination on her face. She pulled herself up, back to her feet, and grinned at him, and it was a smile he knew very well.
Aaron wished he could see her again, now that he knew the truth, but he took solace in the fact that he had been able to get to know Ariana and they had become friends with one another, even without knowing the truth of their parentage. The vision of the young girl faded and another memory took its place. Night had fallen, and the glow of light from the doorway lit the room as the queen opened the door. She entered and walked across the floor, her eyes lidded with sleep but smiling as she put her hand gently on his forehead. A few moments later, she left the room again and left the door open a crack, leaving a little light in the room, but something dark slipped in through the open window and crept among the shadows, moving silently, almost with an absence of sound as it crossed the floor toward the crib. The outline of a face, hidden beneath a cowl, loomed above, and a dark pair of eyes stared down at him, like two pieces of coal. Aaron felt his throat catch as though he could not breathe and he saw something dull and grey in the darkness gripped tightly in a fist. It plunged down toward him and a sharp pain that burned like ice shot through him, and he suddenly saw the stars of a night sky overhead and a different face, leering down at him. The vision shifted again and he was back in the room once more, the icy cold spreading through him, and he saw the eyes above him change. They were longer dark and lifeless, staring at him with cold malevolence but with confusion and shock followed by sorrow.