Oblivion's Grasp

by Eric T Knight

  It was only a few minutes later that T’sim returned. “They are there. The hunter caught them and is turning them over to the gromdin.”

  Alarmed, Tairus asked, “What does that mean?”

  “In some ways it is good, because the gromdin needs them alive for its purposes,” Ricarn said. “It will keep them so for as long as it can, so that it may draw off as much of their Song as possible.”

  “What’s it keeping them alive for?” Tairus already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer and in his mind he cursed Rome again for leaving him here to deal with this on his own.

  “It will use their Song to shred the barrier between our worlds,” Ricarn replied calmly.

  Nalene paled at her words. Tairus felt sick. “We have to get them out of there.” To T’sim he said, “Go back. Get them out of there.”

  T’sim shook his head. It was Ricarn who spoke. “He cannot go there. No Shaper can. It is why Lowellin needed Quyloc in the first place.”

  “It is a place formed of chaos power,” T’sim said. “Any power from our world, whether LifeSong or that which inhabits the Spheres of Stone, Sea, and Sky, is instantly annihilated when it comes into contact with chaos power.”

  “Then how is it Rome and Quyloc are there?”

  “They are not really there,” Ricarn said. “Only their spirit bodies are.”

  Tairus rubbed his temples. “You know that doesn’t make any sense, right? None of this does.”

  “Nevertheless,” she replied. Ricarn was watching him closely, as if waiting to see how he would react.

  “Can’t you get them out of there?”

  “Without an item from that world I cannot pass through the Veil,” she replied.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” Nalene said to Ricarn. Ricarn nodded slightly.

  “Well, I don’t,” Tairus growled. “Enlighten me.”

  “Soon the gromdin will begin stealing their Song. Regardless of the cost, we cannot allow that to happen.”

  “Hold on there,” Tairus said, putting one hand out. “You better not be saying what I think you’re saying.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Forget it. You’ll have to go through me.”

  “Do you have any idea what will happen if the gromdin makes it into our world?” Nalene blazed. “Did you even listen to what T’sim said? We won’t have to worry about what Melekath and the Children do. We’ll already be dead.”

  “We don’t know that will happen,” Tairus said stubbornly.

  “Talk to him will you?” Nalene asked Ricarn. “Maybe you can get through his thick head.”

  “She is correct,” Ricarn said. “However, it has not begun yet and when it does, it will not happen instantly. We will probably have at least a few minutes.”

  “Then there’s still time,” Tairus said.

  “She said probably!” Nalene snapped. “No one really knows.”

  “It’s good enough for me.”

  Nalene gritted her teeth. “Understand, I don’t want them dead.”

  “Is that true?” Tairus. “Maybe you want Rome out of the way so you can make yourself queen.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Nalene snapped. “It’s true that I have no love for either man, but I’m not stupid. We need them against Melekath. He’s the enemy here.”

  “But you’re quick to talk about killing them.”

  “Just think for one minute, you stupid little man!” she rasped. “Think about what you’re saying. This is the abyss we’re talking about. If the gromdin steals enough Song from them, it will shred the Veil. That Veil is the only thing protecting our world from the abyss. If the abyss spills over into our world… Would you really risk the whole world for two people?”

  “I would and I will.”

  Nalene put her hand on her sulbit. “And if I decide to just kill you right here, right now? What will you do then?”

  “I’ll die with my fingers in your throat,” he grated. “Whatever you do to me, you won’t survive it.”

  “This does not benefit us,” Ricarn said smoothly. “There is still time. When the gromdin begins, we will be able to see it,” she said to Nalene. “Action can be taken then.”

  “No one touches them until that happens,” Tairus said, staring at Nalene. “No one touches them without my permission. I decide when it happens, if it happens. Do you understand?”

  Nalene crossed her arms, her thick jaw set in a harsh line. Her sulbit was standing up on its hind legs, its tiny teeth bared at Tairus. “People die in war. Even one as thick as you understands that. I will not sacrifice an entire city, an entire world, because you cannot handle the thought of your friend dying. When the time comes, I will see them dead, regardless of what you say or do. Do you understand me?”

  They stood there staring at each other for a long moment, neither backing down, until Ricarn said, “We are wasting time here.”

  A short while later Tairus summoned four of his most trusted soldiers, including Nicandro, Rome’s aide, to the secret chamber. When they saw Rome and Quyloc lying there, seemingly lifeless, they paled. Nicandro looked to Tairus.

  “I know what it looks like, but they’re not dead,” Tairus told them.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Nicandro asked.

  “They’re…gone. You’ve seen that spear Quyloc carries. They went to the place where he got that.”

  “Why?”

  Tairus hesitated. He was tempted to tell them to shut up and follow orders. This was the army and he had many duties to attend to. But he also knew that these were not ordinary times. They needed answers. They needed hope. He made a sudden decision to give them part of the truth. “They went there to attack Melekath.”

  “Has the enemy captured them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will they return…?”

  Tairus gave a harsh laugh. “You know the Black Wolf. Have you ever known him to lose? He probably has Melekath by the tail right now.” He gestured at the bodies. “Pick them up. We need to move them into the tower where we can keep a better eye on them.”

  They carried the two men up and put them in a room on the second floor of the tower. “You four stay here and guard them,” Tairus told them. “A Tender is coming. She is the only one you are to allow in. She’s coming to watch over them, to let us know if things are starting to go wrong.” He stared hard at Nicandro. “This is very important. If she sees anything, reacts to anything, send someone to get me at once. I’ll send a squad to hold the entrance to the Tower. No one enters until I say so. Not the FirstMother, not anyone. Is that clear?”

  Nicandro and the others saluted.

  The door opened. All five men reached for their weapons. A tall, young Tender entered. She looked at the five men arrayed before her, but her expression betrayed no fear or surprise. To Tairus she said calmly, “I am Bronwyn, sent by the FirstMother.” Her sulbit—about the size of a small cat, its skin ivory with hints of crimson, its body sleek and narrow—crouched on her shoulder, its beady eyes fixed on Tairus. It seemed eager.

  “You will do nothing without my permission,” Tairus told her. Turning to Nicandro he said, “Bar the door behind me.”

  Five

  Two large, winged things had appeared against the bronze sky, flying towards them. As the creatures drew closer, Rome and Quyloc could see that they were twice the length of a man, their long, slender bodies covered with iridescent green skin. They had huge, bulbous eyes and two sets of transparent wings, flapping so fast they were only a blur. A high-pitched whining came from them. They flew up and hovered over the two men.

  “I think this is our ride,” Rome said. “What took you two so long?” he called.

  The creatures dropped down and one landed on each man. They had six legs, each ending in hooked claws. They took hold of the men, their wings buzzed faster, and they lifted into the air.

  The river had brought them close to the volcano and once they were airborne, the creatures headed tow
ard it. They were finally going to come face to face with the gromdin. Quyloc remembered the first time he’d seen the creature, the night he’d killed the assassin with the bone knife. Just that one glimpse had terrified him. The thought of coming face to face with the creature was immeasurably worse. Panic welled up inside him, pure animal fear, bleak and unreasoning. It would be so easy to give in to it.

  But Quyloc knew fear. Fear was his oldest companion, riding his shoulder while he fought to survive on the streets of Qarath as an orphan and right on through every day of his adult life. He woke up with fear and he went to bed with fear.

  It would not get the better of him.

  He forced himself to calm down, noting distantly how much taking deep breaths helped, even here where he had no body. In time the urge to panic subsided and he was once again his own master. Probably there was nothing he could do. Probably all was lost. But he would face it on his own terms, with his wits about him.

  The volcano was jagged, black rock, an angry fist thrusting its way up out of the jungle. Its slopes were bare of vegetation, but they were not empty. Scores of misshapen creatures were crawling, running and slithering up its sides, heading for the top. Quyloc stared at them, his fingertips on his rendspear. Just let his arms be free for a moment before his death and he would take a number of those creatures with him. They, too, would know fear.

  Standing atop the volcano, on a shelf of rock surrounded on three sides by lava, was the gromdin. It was a mottled, gray-green color and it was huge, big enough to kill a man simply by stepping on him. It stood on two legs. Its head was a swollen lump on top of the bloated mass of its body. When it saw them its cavernous mouth opened and it barked a command at the winged things carrying them. They brought Rome and Quyloc closer.

  It reached greedily for them and Quyloc had to fight a new tide of panic as huge, clammy fingers closed around his body. The thing brought them in close and stared at them as a man will stare at a great prize. Then it held them up and roared in triumph. Quyloc thought that he had never felt so helpless.

  The gromdin set the two men down on a raised slab of raw stone. Lying on the stone, Quyloc caught motion from the corner of his eye and turned his head. The first of the creatures racing up the sides of the volcano had reached the top. They perched on the jagged black stones that ringed the molten lake, leering faces, slavering jaws, hungry eyes. They knew the time had come. The new world awaited them. Quyloc turned his face away from them and stared up at the sky, again willing himself to stay calm. He needed to be ready. If there was a chance to escape, to fight back, he had to be prepared to seize it.

  The gromdin raised both its arms to the sky and bellowed something in its harsh language. As it did so, a hard wind began to blow and the sky began to churn. Waves appeared in it, growing larger by the moment, until it looked like a storm-tossed sea. The creatures clinging to the sides of the volcano howled and squealed with delight. The storm built higher. Quyloc thought he could feel the stone under him shaking.

  The gromdin bellowed again and made a slashing motion with one massive hand. Instantly the wind and the waves stopped as if frozen. There was a loud ripping sound and the bronze waves peeled back, revealing what looked like a massive pane of thick, purple-black glass. The gathered creatures went silent, all of them staring up at it.

  Another bellowing command from the gromdin and hundreds of thin, black filaments spilled from the purple-black pane of sky. They arrowed down, heading straight for the two men. Quyloc tensed, knowing how much this was going to hurt.

  Rome grunted in pain when they struck him. Quyloc bit his lip to keep from crying out. It felt like fiery worms were burning their way through his flesh. It was worse than he remembered.

  The black filaments started to pulse as Song from the two men flowed through them. The far ends of the filaments clustered together on the purple-black glass. They sprouted smaller, finer filaments that writhed across the glass and, finally, pierced it.

  The glass cracked.

  Bronwyn was sitting on a chair, facing Rome’s and Quyloc’s bodies, a distant, glazed look in her eyes. Suddenly she tensed and sat bolt upright.

  “What is it?” Nicandro asked. Bronwyn didn’t answer. She seemed to be holding her breath. Nicandro exchanged a look with the other soldiers. They arrayed themselves around the Tender, hands resting on their weapons.

  All at once Bronwyn came back to herself. She looked at the soldiers standing around her, as if just noticing them for the first time.

  “What’s happening?” Nicandro asked again.

  “It’s starting,” she replied, standing up. One hand moved toward the sulbit on her shoulder and the soldiers drew their weapons.

  “Keep your hands away from that,” Nicandro warned her.

  Slowly, Bronwyn moved her hand away from the creature. “I meant no threat.”

  “See that you don’t.”

  “I have to inform the FirstMother. Will you allow me to leave?” Nicandro nodded and she left the room hurriedly.

  “You two follow me,” Nicandro said after she was gone. To the other soldier he said, “Bar the door behind us. Don’t open it unless it’s me or General Tairus. Understand?”

  At the door of the tower, Nicandro told the other two soldiers “Close this door behind me and bar it. I’m going to get the general.”

  Six

  The black filaments burrowed deeper into the two men and the pain increased. Rome’s heels drummed on the stone and a harsh cry came from him. Quyloc screamed. It felt like he was being torn in half.

  In the sky, the ends of the filaments probed blindly into the pane. The cracks grew wider. Sunlight shone through.

  All at once a whole section of the purple-black pane seemed to shatter and fall away. Jagged pieces rained down around the two men and the gromdin. Through the hole could be seen the palace grounds.

  The gromdin howled in triumph.

  The pain was unbearable. With all his heart Quyloc begged for death. Anything to stop the pain. Choking sounds came from Rome…

  Quyloc blinked. He was standing on a flattened area on top of a mountain, a strange yellow sky overhead. Far below was a wide valley. The floor of the valley was covered with plants of brilliant hues, unlike anything he had ever seen. He raised his hands, looked at them, wondered if he was dead.

  “If you keep fooling around it will be too late,” a voice said.

  Quyloc spun. The speaker was nearly as tall as he was, slightly built, but with faded yellow skin. He was completely hairless, with large, bulbous eyes and a wide, lipless mouth. There were gills on the sides of his neck and his hands and feet were webbed. “What? How did I get here?”

  “You’re not here,” said another voice behind him. Quyloc turned. There was another of the strange creatures, sitting cross legged on the ground. This one was clearly ancient, so old that her skin had turned mostly white. A sparse clump of hair grew from her head, scraggly and long enough to reach the ground. She turned her head to look at the first speaker. “They’re not very smart, are they?”

  Quyloc struggled to regain himself. His sense of disorientation was so complete that he could barely form words. “Who…who are you? Where am I?”

  “We are Lementh’kal,” the first speaker said. He inclined his head slightly. “I am Ya’Shi. She’s an Ancient One. They don’t have names.” In a conspiratorial whisper he added, “She’s so old she forgot her own name.” He dodged a rock that the Ancient One threw at him. “As for your second question—I imagine you are lying somewhere in the pile of dead stone you call Qarath with your friends gathered around wringing their hands in worry. Though I haven’t checked, so I can’t be sure.” Very seriously he added, “I really can’t keep up with everything, you know. I’m very busy.”

  “You don’t do anything!” the Ancient One shouted.

  “Be quiet!” he shouted back at her. “You’re making me look bad in front of our guest.”

  Quyloc struggled to get his thoughts under control.
Too many questions, too much remembered pain. Part of what Ya’Shi had said came back to him. “They found our bodies? They know where we are?”

  “Hey, it’s thinking,” the Ancient One said. “That’s a good sign.”

  “Soon they will kill him and his friend,” Ya’Shi said.

  “To close the hole into the abyss before it is too late,” she replied. She turned her head and fixed unblinking eyes on Quyloc. “Unless you go home. Now.”

  Quyloc looked at her, confused. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

  “Oh look, it’s being stupid again,” she said.

  “Stop it!” Ya’Shi snapped at her. “You’re not helping.”

  “You’re the one who came up here and disturbed my meditation,” she said crossly.

  “You weren’t meditating. You were sleeping.”

  “That’s an outrage! I am a respected Elder of the Lementh’kal!” she spluttered.

  “Will you two shut up!” Quyloc yelled. “I have to get home. I don’t have time for this.”

  “What do you have time for?” Ya’Shi asked, his tone calm and reasonable. He stepped up very close to Quyloc and examined him carefully. His eyes were very luminous. “Be careful before you answer. Time is harder to save than you think.”

  Quyloc’s head was spinning. None of this made any sense. How did he get here? Had he gone crazy?

  “Yes, you are crazy,” Ya’Shi said, as if reading his thoughts.

  “Completely crazy,” the Ancient One added.

  “I brought you here,” Ya’Shi said, stroking Quyloc’s shoulder and upper arm in a soothing fashion. “I hoped we could talk some sense into you.”

  “You brought me here? You have the power to…?” Quyloc felt dizzy. The world seemed to be spinning around him. “You have to help us.”

  “Like a rescue?” Ya’Shi asked.

  “Maybe we should fight the gromdin,” the Ancient One said. “I imagine that would be quite an epic battle.”

  “Too bad you’re too lazy to go anywhere,” Ya’Shi said with a snicker.