Shadowmasque

by Michael Cobley

  Beyond the doorway, a rocky bridge led straight into the raging wall of the vortex itself. Without pause or faltering footstep Agasklin and Calabos led the party out of the tunnel and into the teeth of the storm. Coireg slowed just ahead of Ondene for a moment then pressed on through the doorway with Ondene close on his heels.

  The ferocity of the blast made them all adopt a crouched walk while raising an arm to shield their faces against the needling scour of tempest-driven rain. For Ondene, crossing the bridge was at once terrifying and exhilarating — not even his previous ship-borne experience of the wild gales of the Stormbreaker Isles could match this for sheer eldritch peril. He half-expected to see uprooted trees or farmyard animals go flying past, despite the desolation of the island.

  Minutes after leaving the shelter of the tunnel, his vision was reduced to just a few feet in the rushing, deafening murk, such that it was a considerable surprise when a vertical rock face with a rough arched door emerged from the whirling dimness. Another couple of steps and he realised that it was no wall but the side of a huge rock pillar rising before them, its heights obscured by the vortex. Ondene recalled Qothan telling him of the origins of the Book of the Vortex and wondered what prophecies might be spoken this time.

  The entire party filed into the dark archway where they rested in a cold, shadowy room, wordless in the encompassing din. In the corner a set of narrow stairs rose in a spiral and after a short time they started up them, their way lit by shuttered lamps. The spiral climb soon became an effort that got his heart beating and the sweat prickling on his skin and scalp. Then it became gruelling as his chest heaved, then punishing as aches and pains assailed his legs and feet. The leaders allowed the party only the briefest of rests before resuming the upward progress, which provoked groans and muttered curses from Ondene and Coireg. Then at last a glimmer of light from above brightened until they stepped up onto a somewhat flat area a few yards wide atop the pillar. Yet for all its exposed nature, only a mild breeze played across it as if an invisible barrier somehow excluded the rest of the vortex, as well as much of the noise.

  “Not exactly a place for a dance,” Coireg said, pointing out the smoth-worn edges of the platform.

  Ancient, this place, thought Ondene as he looked about him at the pillartop then up at the swirling fury of the storm. As he stared into its heart he caught glimpses of another two similar stone towers standing amid the ceaseless gyre. Once home to elder gods now devoured by the maw of time…

  He paused and frowned, puzzle at the dark turn of his thoughts. Elder gods? How could I know that?

  But before he could delve further into the enigma, Calabos and Agasklin beckoned them all closer. The Ushralanti prince produced from within his robes a leather-bound book and opened it near the front.

  “Our Captain, the honoured Pericogal, has shown me the lines whose chanting will attract the regard of the Sleeping God and…bring…”

  Like the others, Ondene’s attention was drawn to the centre of the vortex where outlines and vague shapes were coalescing out of the dark and misty tumult. A myriad indistinct details, a cloud of phantom fragments slowly burgeoning until a sudden clarity made plain the vast form of a tree enfolded in dense, lush foliage. Flowers unfolded in undulant perfection and clusters of gleaming berries hung heavily from firm sprigs. It would have been the very image of luxuriant fecundity but for the strange translucent hues — bruised grey, parched and pale brass.

  As the entire party stood frozen and gazing up at the vast manifestation, a ripple of movement passed across the leafy surface and gathered into a single cleft which then began to part. The feeling Ondene had of being at the focus of a pitiless perception faded a little, yet another sensation seemed to be building within him, some kind of impatience or instinctive restlessness. A nervous tension made his neck muscles taut and he began to sweat all over.

  Then he half-forgot the discomfort as the gigantic, numinous tree opened to reveal a pale, ivory form, its head lowered, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped across the chest as if in an attitude of sleep. A melodious note crept into the harsh song of the vortex and the great form stirred, lifting its head and very slowly turning to observe the small gathering atop the pillar.

  “The gaze of a god,” Coireg whispered nearby. “I can feel it upon me…”

  As could Ondene. The eyes of the Sleeping God were nacreous orbs whose unwinking, unrelenting regard felt like a weight upon his mind, an irresistible scrutiny that bored into his inner thoughts….and something broke loose inside him, the restless impatience flaring into an angry hate he recognised only too well as the voice of the Shadowking rang in his thoughts.

  Sleeping God, I know you! I know what you are!

  As Ondene slumped to his knees, a certain panic seized the others. Anxious mutters were exchanged as Coireg and Calabos quickly came to Ondene’s side, not knowing what he was hearing in his own thoughts. Then another voice spoke aloud with such a force that reduced the din of the vortex to a whisper.

  I know you, wretched fragment of a still-more wretched whole! Fate has wrought a cage for you, this man who is the Prince of Change!

  Within him, the Shadowking gained control of his mouth and spoke openly;

  “Prince of dregs!” he said, provoking outraged cries from the Stormclaw’s chieftains. “Prince of defeat, your defeat when the Lord of Twilight’s aspects are once more joined together!”

  Foolish fragment — twice before has your greater self been trapped and dispatched by the fateful necessity which he himself has graven upon the altar of his own essence. Just as this world cannot escape him, he cannot escape his own doom.

  “Lies, lies, god of lies! I can taste your fear of me in every false word!…”

  Ondene strove to hold on to his sanity as the deranged voice ranted and raved across his mind. “Please….”he moaned, covering his face with his hands. “Make it stop….”

  Then Qothan was crouching beside him, offer a small, uncorked vial. Gratefully he accepted it and poured the contents down his throat.

  Everlasting shall be my despite for you…

  Quickly, a warmth began to spread across his chest.

  Invincible my strength, unyielding my purpose…

  The warmth became a heat that rose to his neck and up to his ears and scalp.

  Tireless my onslaught…

  A curious tingling flickered around his neck and shoulders and his anxiety began to lessen.

  Implacable…am I…

  And after that, a kind of peace held sway in Ondene’s thoughts.

  “Thank you,” he whispered to Qothan who just gave a bleak smile. Then a hand touched his shoulder in a comforting gesture and he glanced up to see Calabos looking down with eyes full of understanding and some kind of old, old pain. The grey-haired mage then offfered his hand to help and as he regained his feet the Sleeping God spoke:

  Many and tangled are the threads that have brought you all here, and dark and perilous are the days that lie ahead. All of your fates now run together and strength is joined to strength, even without your knowing….

  The Sleeping God leaned forward a little, towering over them as its pearly eyes sought out Ondene from the rest. As that colossal regard settled upon him, it was as if every corner of his spirit was laid bare and all was being judged. At the same time, he stared up at that immense countenance and tried to gain a reckoning from features which one moment seemed to bloom with every attribute of femininity and the next appeared to shift amid shadows and take on the contours of youthful maleness. But before he could even begin to make sense of this, the might voice spoke forth:

  The thread of your fate has many twists, Corlek Ondene, and its course will test you to the heart. The muted howl of the vortex lent a mournful counterpoint to the voice of the god. I have seen the broken shard of malice you carry and felt the edge of his wrath, yet you will be called upon to bear a still greater burden. To endure such a thing may seem to be beyond you but I have not named you the Prince of Change
for naught — when change comes you will know it.

  “I only wish to be free of this burden,” Ondene said stonily. “I did not ask for it…”

  I could not take it from you with maiming you, said the Sleeping God. But I do not need to do nothing…

  The eyes of the Sleeping God held Ondene’s gaze in unbreakable thrall as they looked deep into his thoughts and for a moment he imagined that a shaft of pure sunlight shone through his body, illuminating, dazzling him completely. Then the moment passed and that encompassing presence withdrew, leaving him weak-kneed, blinking as he swayed on the spot. His vision was blurred by the brightness and as it began to return to normal he looked up and saw that there was no trace of male aspect in the Sleeping God’s face. Only the glory of womanhood shone forth, making him wonder at this manifestation.

  * * *

  Calabos, filled with worry for him, reached out to steady him. Ondene jerked slightly at the touch as if roused from a reverie.

  “What happened?” Calabos said. “Are you well?”

  “A light,” Ondene said in a stunned voice. “Such light….yes, I am well — well enough…”

  From now your lives and the lives of all hang in the balance. The Israganthir seek an end to their wandering, but your is not done yet and its outcome may test you.

  The chieftains of the Stormclaw looked angry as they muttered among themselves, and Calabos thought that one or two might shout or curse. But then Prince Agasklin managed to calm them with a lowered voice and a steady gaze before turning to face the presence.

  “Have we displeased you, divine one?” he said. “Why do you lay further tasks upon us?”

  The greatest weights are not hung on the weakest chain, nor is a task of fire entrusted to an adept of water. Have patience, trust to your strengths.

  Then the huge countenance turned and Calabos had to force himself not to flinch as that exalted regard bore down on him.

  Yours has been a long voyage, Beltran Calabos. We remember the face you once wore as well as that which once wore you. The scar was deep in you yet you have triumphed over the memories it holds and forged yourself anew. Are you now ready to behold the cause, the deadly seed which has brought about such a flowering of malice across these lands? Would you see into what has been hidden?

  Calabos took a deep breath. “I am ready.”

  Then look….

  Abruptly, the pillar-top and the moaning vortex and the Sleeping God with its louring tree were gone. He was standing in a rock-ribbed chamber open to skies of swirling rose-grey, standing on polished viridian marble just within a rough square of twisted black pillars while at its centre was a squat conical altar atop a low dais….

  The Wellsource, at the very heart of Hewn Mountain, in the realm of the Lord of Twilight.

  The raging emerald of it flickered and flowed up like a fountain of fire, then a jumble of rods and vanes, then a boiling cloud of agonised faces. He remembered it, bit by bit recalling what had happened as he saw Byrnak’s entry with Atroc, the blow aimed at Kodel, then his passage through the Wellsource with the Crystal Eye and the Motherseed in his arms, then emerging with them fused together.

  Then Keren entered in Daemonkind form, bearing the Staff of the Void which Suviel joined with the other talismans. Byrnak left but Tauric arrived and Calabos saw for the first time the event which Atroc later described, Suviel and Tauric walking hand in hand into the fury of the Wellsource.

  There was a sudden dislocation and a dizzying, disembodied plunge into darkness as he followed them down through the under-realms and further down into the depths of the Void. Their plummetting descent followed the harsh emerald stem of the Wellsource and Calabos could see the wonder and fear in their faces as they fell through that conduit of coruscating power.

  Eventually they slowed and slipped out of the narrowing flow to drift down towards a strange black plain of blurred and shifting features, across which cold blue webs of radiance crawled and flickered. Suviel and Tauric found themselve wading through a clinging black fog and Calabos followed as they moved away from the Wellsource’s burning fumarole only to halt perhaps a dozen paces away. Suviel produced the fused talisman staff and gave it to Tauric, muttering something as she did so. The young emperor nodded and went down on his knees in the misty blackness, clasped in both hands the headpiece of the staff then raised it above his head for a brief moment before bringing it down to smash into the strange floor of the Void.

  Polychromatic light burst forth from this new wound, spouting around Tauric who did not flinch amid this torrent of raw, primal energy. Then a change came over him and a many-coloured lustre began to pour through his skin, glowing from the exposed skin of face and neck and hands. Soon a single colour emerged to dominate the others, a pure violet that cast its hue in blue-tinted shades across all his form as the remnants of his garment melted away. Tauric had become a god.

  Calabos stared in amazement. From all around jagged webs of blue light flashed in towards the nascent fount of Tauric’s power, momentarily brightening the surroundings and allow a glimpse of the vastness of this plain at the bottom of the Void. Suviel came over to face Tauric and said something to which he nodded, his eyes aflame. Then he turned and strode back in the direction of the Wellsource. But he was only a few paces from it when a huge figure came rushing out of the glittering shadows to stand in his way. Tauric halted and gazed up at the evil grinning visage of the Lord of Twilight, whose barbaric armour and downward-curving horned helm gleamed in the glimmering radiance of the Void. Then Tauric raised one foot and stamped — and his form grew to match his foe, then the battle of gods was joined.

  It was a violent, thunderous struggle in which Tauric, for all the righteous fury of his cause, found it increasingly difficult to match the skill and practised wiles of the Lord of Twilight. It was the vigour of unschooled youth against the experienced cruelty of age, with the latter gaining the upper hand. Bolts and blades were hurled back forth and the savage ardour of combat stirred up the black fog of the Void’s lowermost plain and made its foundations tremble. And it was bitter to see Tauric reel from blow yet drag himself back to his feet to deliver weakening attacks. The Lord of Twilight had not been untouched by Tauric’s attacks but the triumphant grin on his glowing face told all. With fists wreathed in viridian fire he gathered himself for an assault on the nearly defenceless Tauric — then another figure entered the fray, slender, womanly, her eyes burning with hate.

  A single shock of golden force sent the Lord of Twilight flying backwards, and without pity the Earthmother rained more blows upon him. Calabos looked on as battle resumed with a savagery that spoke of an ages-long enmity. And as the Earthmother and the Lord of Twilight engaged in a shattering string of mauling attacks and flaring countersallies, Tauric regained sufficient strength to lunge back into the struggle.

  Yet still it was no enough. The Lord of Twilight was still able to fend off the Earthmother’s raging thrusts while dealing Tauric a blow that knocked him off his feet to lie sprawling on the dark and foggy plain. And still he forced himself to clamber upright, letting a cry of despairing anger as he regained his feet and prepared to charge once more…

  Then a tremor passed through the plain and several shadowy figure emerged from the turbulent black mists, converging on the conflict. There were no details to their oddly elongated and angular forms which were wholly black.

  The masters of the Void, said the Sleeping God in Calabos’ thoughts.

  Suddenly aware of the newcomers, the three gods ceased their violence and drew apart, all weary from the fight yet all still bright with anger.

  *This*must*not*continue* said one of the Void masters.*This*vicinity*already* suffers*damage*from*your*barbarity*

  “Do not stand between me and my victory!” said the Lord of Twilight.

  *There*can*be*no*victory*for*you* said another.

  The Lord of Twilight answered with an emerald spear of power. But the Void master caught it in mid-air and returned it three-fo
ld to strike him full in the chest, throwing him to the ground.

  *You*forget*where*you*are*

  *You*forget*who*rules*here*

  *You*forget*from*whence*you*came*

  “I know my power,” the Lord of Twilight said with an evil grin as he got back on his feet. “And I know yours, thus I know that I can defeat you in the end.”

  *You*know*less*than*you*believe* one of the Void masters said. *But*even*is*that*were*a*possibility*the*war*would*be*a*long*drawnout*torment*that*would*wreck*the*Void*and*all*the*realms*and*leave*both*you*and*us*diminished*beyond*recognition.*You*know*this*to*be*true*

  Calabos stared, hanging on every word. The Lord of Twilight glowered back at the Void master who had spoken, his silence a tacit admission that it was true.

  “I will not submit,” he said. “Destroying all of you would be a sweet triumph, and what matters it if I am diminished? I have regained myself before and will do so again.”

  *We*understand*this*which*is*why*we*want*to*propose*a*compromise*

  At this the Earthmother stepped forward, her perfect features distorted with fury.

  “Do not make a pact with this vermin!” she cried. “It is in his nature to betray and kill and corrupt!”

  Beside her, Tauric nodded. “She speaks truly — he cannot be trusted in anything.”

  The Lord of Twilight laughed. “The bleating of the prey,” he said, the addressed the Void masters. “Say your piece — reveal your plan.”

  *We*propose*to*split*the*coursing*of*Time*and*thereby*create*one*world*where*you*are*defeated*and*another*in*which*you*triumph*completely*

  Tauric and the Earthmother were aghast.

  “That would be an abomination,” the Earthmother said. “It would condemn an entire world to slavery under his will!”

  *But*in*the*other*course*of*Time*that*same*world*would*be*free*of*his*influence* the Void master said *Free*to*make*its*own*way*

  “You would be purchasing the safety of one world by sacrificing another,” Tauric said. “That would be irredeemably wrong — I say no!”