Oblivion: Part Five of the Redemption Cycle

by J. R. Lawrence

  *****

  “So she’s bad?” Neth’tek asked after Dril’ead had relayed all that he knew of the wicked priestess of the Shadow Queen, emptying years of stored memories that he had long kept locked until the time for their revealing was come.

  They sat in the upstairs room that they had bought from the innkeeper, so they’d be undisturbed as they spoke of such things as this. He spoke easily, as if he had rehearsed it all beforehand, though he would pause at the times when he’d speak of Gefiny and those who he had led out of their destroyed home. Neth’tek could see the pain of it all in Dril’s eyes, and remained silent until he was through.

  “Bad?” Dril repeated, looking at him with cold eyes, “She is the vilest thing that has ever walked the Shadow Realms.”

  “Worse than Maaha?” said Neth’tek.

  “Maaha may have tried to destroy every last one of us, and quench all hope in her fiery grasp, but she did not murder a people or abuse the loyalty of her family and servants as Alastra has,” Dril’ead replied. “I have never seen so much sorrow in one’s soul, or so much love…”

  “What do you mean?” Neth’tek asked.

  “Nel’ead Swildagg expressed the profoundest love of all the beings of this world,” Dril’ead said slowly. “He loved his sister, he did all that he could to ensure the safety and protection of his house and family after the death of his beloved father, and when Alastra used him for her own pleasure and purposes, he stood before her in absolute defiance for the protection of not only his family but the entire world. Even then, he could not get himself to harm her. Some would call his love weakness, others a rite of passage from one world into another.”

  Neth’tek nodded. “I think I understand,” he said.

  “It is a shame that we must learn to understand these things,” said Dril, “But it is no matter. We must move along with such things, take it all in stride as we always do. After all, we were bred to endure dark times no different than these.”

  “We need to find this place of black water that Minarch spoke of,” Neth’tek suggested.

  “Yes, maybe that spirit of yours knows where it is,” said Dril.

  Neth’tek nodded, unslinging his satchel from off his shoulder and setting it carefully on the floor. “Ezila, come forth!” he called to it.

  A green light began to emanate from it, but it did not spiral up as it normally would, and seemed to flicker as if struggling to come forth as commanded. Neth’tek narrowed his eyes, confused.

  “Is there a problem?” Dril’ead asked.

  “She’s supposed to come out right about now,” Neth’tek replied. He knelt down on the floor beside the bag, cautiously touching it. “Ezila, are you there?”

  Light flashed from inside and then went out completely, not lighting up again to any of his calls.

  “It’s almost as if there’s a lock on it,” Neth’tek said, sounding worried.

  Dril’ead stood from the bedside. “This must be Alastra’s doing,” he said.

  Neth’tek picked up the satchel as he stood as well, looking into the contents of the bag. It was all ash as before. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” he said, “What would that accomplish? How would she be able to do this anyway?”

  “Darker powers will take any advantage that they can get,” Dril replied. “In this case, stealing your ability to communicate with a messenger of Muari would provide a meaningful advantage for them.”

  “There must be a way we can fix this,” Neth’tek said. “Besides destroying the source of the power itself, I mean. I’m not ready for any major conflicts yet.”

  “Conflict will not wait for you to be ready,” said Dril. “But yes, there must be a simpler way.”

  “How about we speak with the beloved priest,” Neth’tek suggested, “I bet he has some advice for us.”

  Dril motioned for the door. “Lead the way, brother,” he said, “We best get moving sooner than later.”

  7

  To Break the Bond

  The chapel of Muari was located in the town square, near the Baron’s keep, and the beloved priest had accommodations within the chapel itself. In case the needs of the people ever arose, they would know where to find him. It was one of the only structures in the town made of stone, and its windows with actual glass, each with the blue star of Muari in their middle. Candles burned in those windows all night and day, giving a comfortable glow to those who would come and sit silently in the pews, reflecting on their life. It was near midnight when Neth’rek and Dril’ead came to the chapel doors and knocked, hoping that the priest was still up and about even at this hour.

  The door opened and there stood the priest, wearing his grey and blue robe with the star of Muari stitched in the front. He looked them up and down with an eyebrow raised. “It’s a bit late for reflection, my brothers,” he said, “but I’d be happy to oblige if its that important to you.”

  “We have not come to meditate this time, beloved priest,” said Dril’ead, bowing his head reverently to him. “We were hoping you could solve an issue of ours.”

  The priest frowned in puzzlement. “That depends on the issue,” he said.

  “It has to do with this,” said Neth’tek, holding his satchel out to him.

  The priest looked at the bag, his frown deepening curiously. “Come inside,” he said slowly, opening the door for them to pass through, and Dril’ead stepped in behind Neth’tek. Taking in a quick survey of the area outside his door, the priest closed and locked the chapel’s entrance.

  “I usually try to avoid dabbling in such issues as these,” said the priest, walking down the aisle. He walked round and stood behind a stone altar with the star of Muari painted on its surface, a window high on the wall above it with Muari’s emblem as well. “It was practiced more in my youth, when I had strength for such techniques. It takes a toll on the body and mind, you see. But I understand how time will somehow make such things necessary again.”

  He motioned for Neth’tek to lay the satchel on the altar, and though reluctant to pass the sacred bag into the keeping of another, he did so.

  “What exactly is the problem?” the priest asked, looking down at the bag.

  “She will not answer,” said Neth’tek. “It’s as if she tries to come across to me, but something is holding her back. A lock, maybe?” He looked questioningly at the priest, uncertain.

  The priest nodded, now scratching his chin in private contemplation. “I see,” he said thoughtfully. And then he snapped his fingers and turned round to a cupboard, pulling open the top drawer and taking two candles.

  He set the candles on either side of the satchel before striking a match and lighting them.

  “Like I’ve said,” he said, looking from Neth’tek’s face to Dril’s and then back again, “it’s been a long time so my skill in this type of work is a bit rusty. But I should be able to decipher what the problem is with the spirit contained in this bag, at least.”

  “You have our prayers,” Dril’ead said, nodding encouragingly to him.

  Closing his eyes, the priest inhaled as he held his hands over the satchel. The candles flickered as he did so, though neither Dril nor Neth’tek felt a breeze in the enclosed chapel. He then began speaking in a language that neither of them could understand. It seemed to have a rhythm to it, almost like a chant for any basic incantation, though it was much richer. They could feel the power of it like a soft breeze, and the candles continued to dance to it.

  It felt as if they were trapped in a bubble as the priest continued his spell, all the light of the chapel pulled into the two candles on either side of the bag, leaving them surrounded by blackness. Neth’tek glanced at Dril, but his brother had his eyes closed, the muscles in his jaw tight with concentration. He noticed that a light was beginning to emanate from the satchel, although it was not the green light that Ezila was custom to letting off.

  It was a red light. That’s odd… he thought.

  The priest’s chant began to get louder and louder, pi
cking up its rhythmic beat as it rose to a crescendo. And then, as he threw up his hands in a final call out to the spirit, glass exploded from the stain glass window above and rained over them.

  Both Dril’ead and Neth’tek jumped back in alarm, Dril’s hand coming up with his dagger.

  A pillar of red light erupted from the altar, throwing the priest off his feet, and from above them they heard a tremendous roar.

  Sure enough, perched upon the smashed windowpane was a great winged creature, all red save its two black eyes. Horns curled out from its forehead, and as they looked upon its terribleness through the crimson pillar, another eye opened from the middle of its forehead, a dreadful white eyeball looking down at them.

  The pale light from its eye became a beam, and it smote the altar with the force of a mighty hammer, cracking it in two. The pillar of light that had arose from there was then gone, and so was the demon that had rested on the windowpane, leaving them all in complete shock.

  “Where did that horrible thing come from?” said the priest, picking himself up and dusting off his robe. “Please tell me that wasn’t your spirit!”

  Neth’tek only shook his head, still staring through the empty window after the things escape into the night. “I don’t know what that was,” he said. “But whatever it may be, it is free in this world. And that can’t good for anyone.”

  “No, it isn’t good at all,” said Dril, “and we have no knowing where the thing has gone.”

  Neth’tek knelt down and picked up the satchel from between the broken fragments of the altar, shaking the dust off of it and checking its contents. The ashes were still there.

  A hand caught him by the wrist. Alarmed he tried pulling back, but looking up he saw the green eyes of Ezila staring into his.

  “Ezila!” shouted Neth’tek in both surprise and delight, “So you’ve come back?”

  “We’re not safe here,” she said firmly. “This place is oblivion.”

  8

  To Do as He Says

  As they walked back to their accommodations, Ezila safely stowed back in the satchel hanging from off Neth’tek’s shoulder, things almost felt as they should be. But Neth’tek couldn’t keep himself from trembling. It wasn’t cold; his nerves were only reacting to the sights and sounds he had heard in so short a time.

  The commotion had aroused the suspicion of some townsfolk nearby the chapel, and those had gathered outside the doors to wait for the priest to come and explain it to them. However, the beloved priest only told Guldar of what occurred, and let the baron decide whether it were good for the people to know.

  Ezila would tell them nothing of where she had been, or what she had been doing, until they were behind closed doors and in private. All she would say is that they were not safe in Evenstar, and neither would Evenstar be safe as long as they were there. She kept saying ‘this place is oblivion’.

  So they returned to the room that they had purchased in the inn, going through the tavern to the upstairs portion. Dril’ead closed and locked the door and shutters to the window, and then pulling a chair out from the table he sat by the door to be sure no one was listening through the keyhole.

  Neth’tek tossed the satchel onto the bed. “Alright Ezila, tell us everything,” he said.

  She appeared as she should have had the first time he called to her, earlier that night, a cloud of green smoke spiraling up from the bag and forming to the shape of a tall elegant woodland spirit from Stonewood. Red hair streaked with gold fell below her shoulders over her green dress. Her green eyes, steady and almost emotionless, surveyed the room.

  “Well?” Neth’tek prodded, eager to get to the bottom of it all.

  She looked at him. “You really want to know everything?” she asked.

  “Everything concerning why you did not come when I called you, what in the Lesser Realms that thing was in the chapel, and how come you say we’re not safe here in Evenstar anymore.” Neth’tek folded his arms, waiting for her to reply.

  “I may be your guardian, and your servant at times,” she began, the tone of her voice both pleasant and stern, “but my loyalties are first with the one who sent me. The Shadow Queen tried to ensnare me; although I managed to escape, thanks to your intervention in the chapel.”

  “You got the beloved priest to thank for that,” Dril’ead put in from the door. “We had no idea how to respond to the situation.”

  “Please, let’s not get off topic,” said Neth’tek. “And besides, I wasn’t completely at a loss. We went to the priest, knowing he’d know what to do.”

  “It was really all either of you could have done,” Ezila said matter-of-factly.

  “I feel that more could have been done on our behalf,” said Dril. “For example, how could we have prevented the escape of that horrid thing?”

  “Um,” Neth’tek cut in, looking at either of them with annoyance, “how does this… You know what, tell us what that thing was.”

  “Ulchar of the third eye, a lesser demon of the Lesser Realm, just as either of you would have predicted,” Ezila replied. “It is a distant cousin to the Faxtogar demon of the hammer that Dril’ead battled in the Shadow Realms, called up by my previous keeper, Maaha Zurdagg.”

  “How do you know about that?” said Dril, sitting up in his chair and looking puzzled by the recollection.

  “I was there in spirit, if not in body,” Ezila said, “I tarry where my keeper does, whether you see or feel my presence.”

  Dril’ead nodded slowly, looking down at the floorboards. Neth’tek could see that memories were flooding into his mind, memories of times not so comfortable.

  “Anyways,” said Neth’tek, changing the subject and looking at Ezila, “is it a danger to this place? Is that why you say we need to leave?”

  “It is a danger to every land that it inhabits,” Ezila replied grimly, “But this is not why I say we are not safe in Evenstar. You were visited by an emissary of the Shadow Queen, were you not?”

  Neth’tek nodded. “We were,” he said.

  “I was attacked the very moment you sat at his table, and dragged from the primal world and toward the Lesser Realm by the Ulchar,” she said evenly, no sign or recollection of the pain she must have endured in her tone or expression. “Whatever it is the Shadow Queen wants of you cannot be of any good, and will not end for our advantage in this coming struggle. Faith in Muari my friends, we must do as he says.”

  “And right now he’s telling us to leave,” said Dril, nodding knowingly.

  “But wouldn’t the Shadow Queen destroy this place if I don’t follow through with what the messenger told us?” Neth’tek asked, “Did he not say that if I valued Evenstar’s safety, I’d do as his mistress says?”

  “Sometimes you have to sacrifice something dear for the greater good of this world,” Ezila said softly.

  Neth’tek looked at Dril’ead, but he did not give any sign to which side he was leaning towards in this decision. But Neth’tek blinked, looking back at Ezila with determination in his eyes. “No,” he said, “I will not sacrifice this people like that. Skifel believed in Evenstar’s security. So no, I will meet the Shadow Queen or her servant either way.”

  Ezila nodded, closing her eyes. “I understand,” she said.

  “Good,” said Neth’tek, “You have my permission to rest for the evening.”

  Ezila faded back to smoke and slowly drifted into the satchel.

  Neth’tek picked up the bag and walked over to the table, putting it there. He glanced at Dril, and saw that his brother was looking at him with a disheartened expression.

  “What?” he demanded.

  Dril’ead shook his head, standing up and moving his chair over to the window. “It’s nothing,” he said, “just a thought. But you should get some rest. We have a few hours before dawn, though you’ll need all the rest you can get.”

  Neth’tek sighed, leaving the bag on the table as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think I’ll ever rest again,” he said. “I can’t
bear to see his face again.”

  Dril put his hand on his shoulder. “We all make hard decisions, brother,” he said softly, pausing as if in hesitation. “But sleep is nothing to question the necessity of. We all have need of it.”

  He stepped back and sat in his chair, opening the shutters to look out over the snow covered rooftops, and the stars shining high above them. Evenstar was beautiful at night, and so peaceful. One would wonder how anything horrible could have ever happened to her in the past, but it had, and they all knew it whether or not they’d like to deny it.

  Neth’tek shook his head as he lay back against the pillow. He knew that wasn’t what Dril wanted to say, but how was he supposed to make that kind of a decision? How could he hope to sleep again? If it were this hard now, how much harder could it become?

  He fell asleep sooner than he had expected, and the dark recesses of his mind welcomed him.

  It was another terrible dream.

  9

  Shadow and Light

  The woodlander crept along the base of the trees, keeping to the shadows as he creeped upon the elk standing in the open prairie, nibbling on the grass that grew along the banks of the lake Lemua in West Crossing. Lifting his slender longbow, he drew the lean arrow back to his jaw bone and held it, steadying his breath as he focused his balance and attention on the center of the elk. However, just as he was about to let his arrow fly, the head of the animal rose up from the earth and looked away westward, and he froze, afraid it had caught his scent.

  But that would make no sense. The wind hadn’t shifted, it couldn’t have smelled him. Realizing he had only moments left to take the shot, the woodlander let his arrow fly.

  The elk sprang from the place it had been standing and leaped nearly ten feet away, dashing up the side of the bank and vanishing into the trees further to the north. Cursing his misfortune, the woodlander rose and slipped out of the trees, watching it go.