Oblivion's Grasp

by Eric T Knight

  One thing left, then.

  She could make him pay.

  She threw up one hand and summoned Song to her. She could feel it there, all around her, flowing ceaselessly. It could not resist her call.

  The sky split open, revealing a glowing lattice work of feeder lines, humming with power. But she wanted more. She pushed deeper and the feeder lines parted, revealing the massive, intertwining trunk lines beyond them.

  She curled her fingers and one of the trunk lines bent toward her. She grabbed hold of it with both hands and tore it in half. Power sprayed from the broken ends and surged through her, so much of it that sparks danced across her skin and she began to glow.

  All around her in a wide area every animal, every bird and every insect suddenly fell to the ground, dying. Plants wilted and turned gray.

  She dropped the trunk line. The ends dangled limp and blackened.

  Her first leap carried her completely outside the city. The second took her even further.

  She tore open another trunk line and absorbed its power, used it to jump even further.

  So much power and yet not enough to fill the void inside her.

  Fifty-nine

  Netra threw her arms around Shorn and gave him a long hug. Then she pulled back and looked into his eyes, her small hands lost in his huge ones. “Thank you for everything you’ve done,” she whispered to him. “You saved me so many times.”

  “It is you who saved me. You showed me that what I thought was weakness was actually strength. I am always in your debt.”

  “If I don’t return…” Netra swallowed and had to start again. “If you can, find Cara. Tell her I love her.”

  Shorn nodded and Netra moved away from him. She seated herself cross legged on the ground, well back away from the prison wall, and closed her eyes. She slowed her breathing, let her breath wash all thoughts from her mind. When she had grown calm inside, she caught hold of an outgoing breath and let go of her body, letting her breath pull her out of herself and into beyond.

  In that ethereal place she took one last look back. She could see Shorn standing protectively over her; she saw Melekath go back into the prison and kneel down beside the broken woman.

  I can’t do this, she thought.

  She let that thought slide away from her, reminding herself that there was nothing she could do, that she was here only to surrender. The one thing that nothing in her life, nothing in her entire make up, had ever prepared her for. She was a doer and a fighter. Giving in was not something she understood.

  And it was the only thing with any chance of saving them all.

  She turned her focus on the tiny flow of Song that connected to her akirma. The cavern and everything in it faded from sight as she followed the flow deeper and deeper into beyond. The flow joined with other flows and eventually became a feeder line that glowed brightly in the darkness.

  Still deeper she went and after a while the feeder line led to a trunk line, as big around as a tree trunk and pulsing brightly.

  Deeper still she went, following the trunk line, and at last she beheld it.

  The River.

  It was a vast, golden artery floating in the darkness. It had no end; it had no beginning. Its surface was calm and smooth, but there was the sense of powerful currents moving within it. The power radiating from it was unbelievable. Next to it Netra felt as weak as a butterfly caught in a hurricane. Her akirma was no more than the faintest puff of smoke, sure to be torn apart in seconds. How had she lived within it for so long, weak thing that it was?

  Trunk lines branched off the River at intervals, twisting and arcing out into the darkness, fat, golden tributaries carrying the melody of Life to every living thing.

  She willed herself closer. There was no way this was going to work. It would be easier to throw herself into an active volcano. The power of the River was beyond comprehension. It was foolish to even think of such an action. There must be another way. She started to pull back from it, then saw something that stopped her.

  There was a strange turbulence in the River, something roiling its surface. A purple-black stain that marred the golden perfection. A shock went through her. What could be causing this?

  She followed the stain around and back to its source. What she saw then made her feel sick. One of the trunk lines was completely black. Poison spewed from it into the River.

  It shocked Netra so much that she didn’t think, she simply reacted, and that was what allowed her to do it.

  She threw herself into the River.

  The River took her and tore her into a million pieces. Then every piece was smashed over and over on invisible rocks. The pain was all-encompassing, unlike anything she had ever experienced. Nothing could have prepared her for this. It was utterly terrifying and disorienting, as if she were caught in a massive, raging flood. Her perception spun crazily about her until all sense of who or where she was was lost.

  She had made a terrible mistake. The River was too vast and she was too insignificant. If she didn’t get out of it soon there would be nothing left of her.

  Yet no matter how hard she tried, she could find nothing to hold onto. She couldn’t slow herself down, couldn’t stop the wild tumbling.

  She was almost gone now. The pieces of who she was were slipping through her torn fingers.

  And would it be so bad, really? So much running, so much uncertainty and fear. What a relief it would be to quit fighting, to simply give up.

  In her mind’s eye there appeared a figure then, a rock lion with glowing eyes.

  Do not give up.

  I have nothing left.

  You can still surrender.

  It won’t work. I don’t know how.

  Let go of yourself. Trust in that which is larger than you.

  It made no sense. Fighting and clinging were all she knew.

  Then you will fail and everything you love will die.

  There was no judgment there, no threat. Only a simple statement of fact. There were no other choices.

  Give yourself to the River. Let it carry you.

  Netra quit trying to hold on. She quit trying to fight her way to the surface. She gave herself over to the River.

  Almost immediately something changed. The River’s turbulence eased. She no longer felt like she was being pounded on unseen rocks. She felt weightless.

  Free.

  She floated to the surface. The River was now utterly calm. It held her gently in its grasp, bathing her wounds and easing her suffering. She was finally home.

  The beauty and wonder of it were so great that she began to weep for the sheer joy of it. She wept for herself, for all those years she had run away from her true home. She wept for everyone she knew and everyone she didn’t know, for all their fears and despair. Above anything else, she longed for each of them to experience this, to know at least one moment of true safety and peace.

  Then she looked outward.

  Out in the darkness that surrounded the River were millions of tiny points of light, each connected through the flows of Song to the River. She knew that she looked on every living thing and she wondered at the beauty of it all.

  But then she saw that there were other points of light that were cloudy and diseased, with sharp, painful edges to them. They were not connected to the River. From them came unending screams, a wail of torment that pierced her to her core.

  Without being aware of what she was doing, she reached out to one of the sharp lights, driven by a desire to bring it back to the comfort and safety of the River, to share with it the oneness and beauty that she felt.

  Sixty

  Shorn watched helplessly as Netra twitched and cried out. Her face contorted with pain so strong it seemed he could feel it as well.

  “It’s killing her,” he said.

  Melekath looked up from the woman he was holding and his expression was grim. “It is. Because she’s fighting it.”

  “How do I help her?”

  “There’s nothing you can do.
Nothing anyone can do.”

  Shorn shook her. “Come back,” he implored her. “Don’t die.”

  But it did no good. She began spasming, so that Shorn was worried she would injure herself and he laid her down.

  Just when he thought that she would surely die, the spasms suddenly ceased. The pain lines on her face went away. A look of peace took their place.

  “It’s working,” Melekath said, awe in his voice. “She’s doing it.”

  Shorn looked over to where Melekath sat with the broken woman in his lap, just in time to see the woman suddenly sit bolt upright. A smile lit up her ruined face as she stared off at something only she could see and she gave a small cry of utter joy.

  She held up her hands. A bright light shone out from her. Shorn had to close his eyes.

  The light grew stronger and stronger, so bright that Shorn could see it clearly even with his eyes shut.

  All at once it flared, just for a second, and when the moment passed, she was gone.

  Melekath came to his feet, age and weariness sloughing off him like dried mud. His face shone with a new smile. “My Children!” he cried, running off into the prison. “It’s time for you to go home!” There was another bright flash of light in the darkness, then another and another.

  In the city of Thrikyl, Orenthe stirred slightly and one eye opened.

  “Mother?” she whispered.

  The glow filled her, washing away the pain and thousands of years of despair. She sat up, laughing joyously as she flared brightly and returned home.

  In Qarath, shortly after Reyna took off to the south, Dubron attacked Leckl, slamming him into a stone wall so hard that he went completely through it. Dubron leapt through the hole after him, but Leckl had already recovered from the impact and he slammed a big rock down on Dubron’s head, cracking his skull. Dubron fell to the floor and Leckl rose up over him, the stone poised for another blow.

  But all at once Leckl froze and looked up. A smile appeared on his face and he began to glow brightly.

  Dubron, his skull already knitted back together, seized his opportunity and snatched up another stone. But as he swung it at his enemy, Leckl flared with the brightness of the sun and disappeared.

  Dubron stood staring at the spot where Leckl had been, confusion on his face. Then he began to glow as well and confusion was replaced with joy.

  Ki’Loren was suffering. The gray blotch had spread completely down one side of the island. Shudders passed over ki’Loren every few seconds. A crack started from beside Josef and radiated outwards, rapidly growing wider.

  Inside, pieces of the roof were peeling away and falling on the humans and the Lementh’kal. Many of the refugees from Qarath were running down the length of the valley, trying to stay ahead of the growing gray blotch, but a large number were just standing and staring.

  The elderly woman she was helping looked up at Cara and said, “No more. I’m done running. It does no good.” Then she simply sat down.

  Then suddenly Josef sat upright. He pulled his hands from ki’Loren’s side and raised them into the air. He began to glow.

  “Well, look at that,” Ya’Shi said, still on his perch at the top of ki’Loren’s peak.

  Josef leapt to his feet with a shout of joy. The light grew blinding. There was a flash and Josef was gone.

  “It worked. She did it.”

  “I never doubted her,” the Ancient One said, stroking the scraggly strands of her gray hair.

  “Yes, you did. You were already planning your next life.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I was completely confident the entire time.”

  “Being old does not give you a free pass to lie,” he said.

  “Being ancient gives me a free pass to do whatever I like.”

  “You’re right,” Ya’Shi said. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  The Ancient One patted ki’Loren’s side. “She is not well.”

  “Not at all. Josef was not gentle. No doubt she could use our help with healing.”

  The Ancient One nodded her agreement, but remained sitting.

  “Aren’t you going to get up and do something?” Ya’Shi asked.

  “Oh. You were talking to me?”

  “Who else would I be talking to?”

  The Ancient One shrugged. “You do spend a lot of time talking to yourself. That’s what everyone says.”

  “How would you know what everyone says? You haven’t gone anywhere or done anything in a hundred years.”

  She nodded. “That’s true.”

  “Then let us do this. May I?”

  Ya’Shi held out his hand to her. She took it and he helped her to her feet. Together they walked down the slope toward the spot where Josef had been.

  One moment ki’Loren was shaking badly and wave after wave of wrongness was passing over the place and the next it was just…gone.

  Rome looked around, disbelieving. “What just happened?”

  Quyloc stared upwards, toward where Josef had been. “He’s gone,” Quyloc said.

  “What do you mean, gone? Where would he go? Did he jump into the ocean and swim away?”

  “No. He’s gone. There is no trace of him.”

  “How can that be?” Tairus asked.

  “Give me a minute,” Quyloc said. “Both of you. Just don’t say anything for a minute.” He took hold of the spear in both hands and the faraway look came into his eyes.

  Rome motioned to Tairus and they walked a short way away. “You don’t think…” Tairus began.

  “I hope so. But I’m not going to start thinking. Not yet.”

  The people of Qarath were looking around in confusion. For the most part they were still afraid, still waiting for the next blow to come. How long had it been since they’d had truly good news?

  Quyloc came out of his trance and walked over to them. “I think…they’re all gone,” Quyloc said doubtfully. He looked to Ricarn for confirmation and she nodded.

  “I can’t sense them anywhere,” Nalene said. “Before their presence was like a background buzz, like angry bees. But now it’s just…silent.”

  “She returned them to the Circle,” Ricarn said.

  “You mean the young Tender?” Rome asked.

  Ricarn nodded. “She went into the River and she opened the way for them to return.”

  “But that’s not…it’s impossible,” Nalene said.

  “Tell that to Netra.”

  “But how?”

  “We all come from the River. Why can we not return to it?”

  “It’s too much. It will destroy anyone who—”

  “Nevertheless.”

  “Who cares if it’s possible or not? Who cares how she did it? What matters is she did it,” Rome said. The words felt strange in his mouth. It seemed impossible, but it was true. Just like that he felt the weight of the world slip off his shoulders. He wanted to laugh and cry and scream with joy all at the same time. A huge smile split his bearded face and his eyes landed on Quyloc. He took a big step toward Quyloc, who put his hands up and took a step back. But Rome was not going to be denied.

  He grabbed Quyloc in a bear hug, lifting him completely off the ground and spinning him around. Quyloc started to push away, then, awkwardly, hugged him back. Rome set him down and hugged Tairus, also picking him off the ground. Tairus cheered and pounded him on the back. Rome set him down and turned to his people, some of whom were moving closer, questioning looks on their faces. Laughing, he shouted, “The Children are defeated! They’re gone!”

  People stared at him in stunned silence and then a few of them cheered. Word spread quickly and the cheering spread, growing steadily stronger.

  Rome turned to Ricarn, his arms spread wide, but then he remembered who she was and he resisted the urge to hug her. She’d probably turn him into a bug or something.

  To Nalene he said, “We did it. We beat them.” He stuck out his hand and she shook it.

  Rome saw Jenett waiting nearby. “Turn this thing around,” he
told her, clapping her on the shoulder. “Let’s go home!”

  Then he ran off down the slope, whooping as he went. He had to find Bonnie. He was going to grab her tight and never let her go.

  Sixty-one

  Netra was lying there peacefully, a small smile on her face. Shorn felt a tremendous sense of relief. She was going to be okay. Curious, he walked away from her to peer into the prison. The intense flashes of light, which had been appearing nearly continuously, seemed to have faded away.

  Suddenly Shorn felt a new presence behind him, powerful and malevolent. He spun just as a mighty concussion struck the cavern, as if a star had fallen from the sky and struck the ground. He was knocked to his knees and before he could get up, the roof of the cavern cracked open. Sunlight flooded in and Reyna jumped down into the cavern.

  She was huge and blazing with awesome power. Her eyes spun with madness. She roared, her fury so powerful it knocked Shorn backward.

  He made it back to his feet, knowing with awful certainty that he was too late to stop her, too late to do anything.

  “You will not take this from me!” Reyna screamed, her eyes fixed on the small, still form of Netra.

  She raised one foot and stomped on Netra. The force of the impact rent the earth and her foot drove down into the cavern floor.

  Shorn yelled and ran toward her.

  All at once light began to shine from Reyna’s eyes and mouth. The rage vanished from her face, replaced by wonder and awe. She uttered a cry of joy—

  She flared and disappeared into nothing.

  Shorn ran to the hole. With Reyna’s dissolution the sides had fallen in.

  For a moment he stared in stunned disbelief, then he jumped into the hole and began furiously grabbing rocks and throwing them out of the hole. It was hopeless. He knew it was hopeless. There was no way she could have survived that. But still he had to try.