He arrived at the door. The music was louder now, as if someone was playing a lute on the other side. The melody had a sad, haunting feel. Kairos stilled his shaking hand to control his fear and pushed on the door. It did not budge. At first, he thought it might be locked or sealed, although a brief inspection yielded no visible locks or bolts. Kairos concluded that the door was stuck from being held in place for many years. He heaved and pushed and eventually it swung open with a loud grating sound.
Air, warm and foetid as an infectious wound, flowed out of the darkness within. Kairos coughed and quickly covered his mouth with his arm. The music was now ringing loudly in his ears, as he peered into the gloomy interior. He couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. He pushed the door open further to allow as much light as possible to stream in. The dim rays of light did not reach very far. Kairos stepped inside to allow his eyes to adjust. As he walked further inside, the door suddenly slammed shut, leaving him trapped in a darkness so thick and impenetrable that he could have fallen into the Void of the Netherworld. The song stopped abruptly.
‘Althea!’ Kairos called, startled to hear only the sound of his own voice in the nothingness.
Kairos’s first panicked impulse was to reach for his sword. His hand gripped nothing where the handle should have been. He realised that he had left his sword, along with his staff, in the plaza below. He took a deep breath to calm himself. As Sir Flain had always said: ‘It’s okay to be scared, but panic will kill you.’
So Kairos thought his situation through calmly. Since he could not see, he would rely on his other senses. There was no other sound, except his own stentorian breathing and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He moved his feet, relieved to hear the sound of the stone floor beneath him. He decided that he would slowly shuffle back towards the door and get out of this accursed place as soon as possible.
He moved, as quietly as he could, towards where he thought the door was. Several long moments passed, and his breathing calmed and his sight adjusted to the absolute darkness. To his surprise, something came into focus in his vision. He was not alone.
It was no wonder he hadn’t seen it earlier. It was a crackling flame, the same colour as the blackness around it, except it seemed even darker, as though it absorbed the darkness itself. Kairos realised that this was the source of the warmth in here, in addition to the foul smell. The flame was from another world.
Kairos’s initial response was terror. But the more he stared at it, the more pathetic it appeared. The dark flame flickered weakly and sputtered, as though it was consuming the last of its fuel source. His fear diminished by the second when he realised that nothing was happening to him. No fearsome beast reached out to seize him. No spectre appeared. No supernatural being attempted to feast on his soul.
Then a voice spoke from the dark flame. ‘Welcome, young Einar.’ There was a hiss and a pop, then, ‘It’s been so long since I’ve had a visitor. Come closer. Speak to me.’
The blackened flame flared a bright orange, revealing an altar and a bronze gong that lay on the floor near its frame. The cords that held the gong had long since deteriorated. One quick glance assured Kairos that only worship took place in this room. A corridor led further into the interior of the shrine, but rubble lay strewn in its path, blocking the way. Kairos turned his attention back towards the talking flame.
A face was almost visible in the flames. Blue tufts of fire formed the outline of a wicked visage that leered back at him. In the centre, he could see two little red glints looking at him, just like the pupil of an eye. Even though they were not human eyes, Kairos could see the cunning, the wisdom of countless centuries flickering in those cynical orbs. Near the foot of the dark fire, amidst the dust of centuries, rested a partial skeleton of a dwarf. Its clothing had long since turned to ashes. The bones of its left side were opalescent tan; the bones on its right side, what bones remained, were blackened as if burnt. The entire right arm was missing. The pommel of a weapon, darkened with age, protruded slightly from the dust and decay. The flames rested on this weapon, rooted in place.
Kairos did not move. The face of the flames burned with a passion born out of cruelty and ambition, hatred and spite. Fear seized Kairos’s entire being. He would have preferred to have been trapped in this shrine with the air elemental. Thoughts of escape thundered in his mind, but he could see the flames dancing with mocking, scornful laughter. Though they sputtered pitifully now, they once had burned with infinite power.
The darkened fire understood his thoughts well, Kairos knew. Those small rubies stared at him, piercing into his very soul.
‘Come forth, young Einar. You who were lured by the melody of my hymn. Come, sit down and speak to me.’
Kairos froze in place. The mention of being lured here unnerved him.
‘You have no choice in the matter, young Einar.’ The fire cackled with mocking laughter. ‘You are trapped here until I say otherwise. Just remember. You came to me. It is fate.’
Kairos measured his predicament. He could rush towards the door and attempt to pry it open, though the more he thought about it, the more that seemed futile. The door had closed on its own, probably by magic, and he would look like a cowardly fool beating at it. He also thought about standing his ground defiantly, but he figured this flame could outwait him; time was not exactly on his side here. Or he could try to maintain his dignity, and see what the strange fire had to say.
Kairos stepped forward and took a seat on the floor in front of the flames, placing himself far enough away from the dwarven skeleton. The ruby orbs of the fire watched him, and they seemed rather disappointed with what they saw.
‘A runt! You, an Einar? You’re not much larger than the typical human. What good will you do me with such mediocre strength? Here I was expecting the paragon of a warrior race, and all I get is a scrawny, castaway specimen.’ The flames crackled and sputtered in anger, then they slowly receded. ‘Yet, you alone made it this far from Logres. You alone journeyed across the sea and found Shatteraxe when the others have perished. Maybe I misjudge you. What are you called?’
Kairos had never given his full Einar introduction to anyone at Valour Keep, but in the company of this daunting being, he feebly answered, ‘I am called Kairos, son of Karthok of the Azel clan.’
‘Azel…’ The flames hissed the word, savouring its taste. ‘So the clan still survives to this day, eh? They served me well long ago, especially the great warrior called, Arvok. Do they still worship me?’
‘We worship Rudras–’
‘Rudras!’ The flames flared again, causing Kairos to jump back in alarm. ‘So he’s the one who took my followers, eh? He was always the sly god, waiting for his opportunity from the shadows. Still, I don’t sense his presence anymore.’
Kairos caught his breath. He felt like he was dealing with something much more than he could comprehend. Suddenly many questions burned in his mind, but all he could do was hold tightly to his flagging courage. He clutched his forearms to prevent himself from shaking.
‘You mentioned that you lured me here…’ Kairos began, but faltered.
‘I did,’ the flames said. There was a popping, blazing silence while the ruby eyes of the flames roved over Kairos. ‘My Pariah also had a hand in bringing you here,’ it said at length. ‘We have planned this for a long time.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Kairos said.
The flames helpfully explained. ‘The Pariah are my immortal servants. One resides in Logres hidden among the Einar. The other works within the Knighthood. He has the ability to manipulate the Trial of the Chair to determine which quest a squire receives for his Test of Valour. For you, he gave the task to defeat the air elemental of Shatteraxe – a creature who was summoned by one whose power dwarfed any mortals. You came here quite willingly, and when you got close enough, you were able to hear the melody.’ The fire flickered in amusement. ‘The rest was all up to you.’
‘I did come willingly,’ Kairos admitted. In his mind, he had done what he thought
was proper. He followed the melody because it led him to Shatteraxe when he was lost. When he encountered the air elemental, the song provided him a beacon of light in the ghostly mists. He thought that following the song was simply a better alternative than returning to the haunted maze of the city with an air elemental at his heels.
Kairos was silent for a moment, then said, ‘There was no legitimate way for me to defeat the air elemental, was there?’
‘No.’ The fire crackled.
‘And this whole ordeal was orchestrated by your P-Par–’ Kairos fumbled over the word. ’Your servant, so I could meet you here?’
‘Yes, my Pariah had planned this. From the start of your journey in Logres to here.’ The flames wavered in irritation. ‘Though Malus and his cohorts almost ruined everything.’
‘Who are you?’ Kairos asked.
‘We will get to that soon. First there is something I want to ask of you.’
‘All right, then. What do you want?’
The flames whined and popped in what seemed like a deprecating manner. ‘Just a mere favour, young Einar. Nothing more.’
For the first time since Kairos had entered the shrine, he flashed his teeth in an ironic smile. ‘I’m afraid I have nothing to offer. I’m – as you say – a ‘runt’ of the Einar. I also have no magic powers. You, on the other hand, seem to be a being of great power. There’s nothing I can do for you.’
‘That is where you are mistaken, young Einar.’ The fire gleamed with a hungry, devouring light. A black light which consumed the darkness around it. ‘There is something you can do for me!’
‘I don’t see how that’s possible,’ Kairos responded wryly. ‘The air elemental is blocking the only way out, and I have no weapons and no magic. Althea is outside.’ His heart burst with sudden concern for her. ‘But she cannot harm the elemental, either.’ Kairos looked towards the rubble in the corridor. ‘I’m trapped here in Shatteraxe unless there’s a secret passage behind this shrine.’
‘There is one way to leave,’ the fire sputtered. ‘And your analysis of your situation is correct. The air elemental will kill you, if some wandering wraith doesn’t. My song granted you and your friend safe passage through Shatteraxe, protecting you from the restless souls that wander the city.’
Kairos remembered the voices of agony and hatred he had heard, and suppressed a shudder to imagine what would have happened otherwise.
‘You’re not going to find another method,’ the flames hissed.
Kairos stared intently into the blackened fire, forcing himself to lock eyes with the two red orbs. ‘I was thinking about what you have said.’
‘Don’t think for too long, young Einar. The air elemental may not stray from the plaza, but it is only a matter of time before one of the undead wanders up here in search of a living soul to feast upon. I can only hold them at bay for so long. You are safe with me for now, but I cannot say the same for your friend outside.’
Kairos tried to quell the sudden urge of desperation welling up inside of him. He needed to help Althea and get out of this place. He should have never come. In his blind quest to save the Einar, he only jeopardised the one he cared about most.
‘It is but a simple favour,’ the flames sputtered softly.
‘Just who are you?’ Kairos asked.
‘I was once called Murasa. Many others know me as the Devourer or the Lost God. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.’
‘I have,’ said Kairos, recalling the name from one of Jomur’s longwinded lectures on theology. According to the history books and the ancient poems, Murasa was a god of darkness and destruction. Envious of the other gods’ power of creation, the dark god wreaked havoc among his rivals’ worshippers, as was evident in Shatteraxe. This eventually started the Celestial War.
Historian accounts and poems differed on what happened next, but most concluded that Murasa was one of the first gods to disappear, defeated by Zemus. The other gods became involved, some siding against Zemus for going too far, others joining him. A few of the minor gods, not wanting any involvement, fled to more peaceful realms in the heavens. In the end, none of the gods remained on Alban.
That is what Kairos had gathered from his brief time in Valour Keep from Instructor Jomur and Althea. He felt that there was more to the story, considering his upbringing in Logres. No Einar ever mentioned the so-called major gods or Murasa. They only spoke of Rudras, who barely received an occasional footnote in the Ordonian books. Kairos wondered what role the serpent god played in all of this. He had always wondered if any gods had somehow survived. Now he had an answer.
‘Murasa – the Devourer,’ Kairos said. ‘The one who started the Celestial War.’
‘Yes,’ said Murasa.
‘You are withering away,’ Kairos noted.
The god did not like this one bit. His fiery form blazed in outrage. But the anger quickly sputtered out, leaving a weak flame. It was obvious to Kairos that Murasa was expending the last of his energy to hold this form together.
‘You are correct. I am fading,’ Murasa gasped in helpless frustration. ‘My godly essence is nearly exhausted. Some say that I tried to destroy Shatteraxe out of spite, out of jealousy of the other gods.’ He flickered derisively. ‘What a load of mortal drivel! I acted for a much greater reward than merely consuming some filthy dwarven city. My plan was ascension into the greater godhood. To rid the pantheon of Zemus once and for all!’
Kairos listened in awed silence. He could barely believe what he was hearing. This was more unreal than his vision from the Trial of the Chair.
‘Zemus was always a jealous god.’ The flames paused in their flickering, if that were somehow possible. ‘He refused to allow his humans to worship any other god, even if they tired of his strict dogma. Eventually a group of his followers denounced him. You know this group well, for they are the Einar.’
‘The Einar once worshipped Zemus?’ Kairos asked. ‘What happened?’
‘I was getting to that.’ Murasa fizzled, as if annoyed by the interruption. ‘The Einar tired of going to the temples each Zemdag, and other such rules, so they refused to worship Zemus. They wanted to worship other gods, or worship no god. They wanted freedom. In return, he cursed them – stripped them of all mana. That made them a vulnerable target to all the other races and creatures, and as a result, they were almost wiped off the face of Alban completely. A few survivors prayed to me for help, so I took pity on them. I was unable to reverse Zemus’s curse, but I managed to grant them other abilities beyond other humans: strength, speed, heightened reflexes, and resistance to magic.’
‘I take it that Zemus did not take kindly to this?’ Kairos asked.
‘Correct. He tried to eradicate me along with all of the Einar, so I made a bargain with Rudras. The plan was that I attack Shatteraxe while Rudras would pretend to seek assistance from Zemus. Zemus would come just as I destroyed Shatteraxe, and we would blame him for the destruction. Thelos, the dwarven god, would have been angered enough to challenge him, but he would have lost. Zemus would have been weakened from the fight, and I would have merely finished him off. It would have worked perfectly, too.’ The flames quivered. ‘But Rudras informed Zemus too early. Before I could retreat from Shatteraxe, Zemus came...’
Kairos’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. ‘That vision I saw during the Trial of the Chair – that was the battle between you and Zemus!’
‘Yes. I could not confront him alone. He defeated me.’ The flames flickered in anger. ‘My plan would have worked, because shortly thereafter, Thelos came and destroyed him – Zemus was weakened from his fight with me, you see – and you saw what was left of Zemus at Valour Keep. My plan worked, but not in the correct order.’
Kairos nodded, remembering the Sapphire Shard.
‘And the rest devolved into what you mortals call the Celestial War. I later learnt that Rudras betrayed us all and fled, but not before summoning a powerful air elemental to prevent anyone from finding me here.’
Kairos gazed
steadily at the dying flames. ‘You said that Zemus defeated you. So why are you still alive?’
‘Zemus did not kill me,’ the flames said, diminishing in stature. ‘He decided to punish me forever, so he imprisoned me into this sword laying here beneath me. The sword is indestructible and I cannot escape from it. Only a power equal to Zemus’s can free me, and as you can see, there are no other gods around anymore. But there is a way, and only you can help me.’
Kairos looked at the dwarven skeleton in dismay. Judging from the corpse, the dwarf had died horribly. ‘Does helping you entail ending up like that dwarf?’ Kairos asked. ‘I believe you killed him. Will I meet the same fate?’
‘That is true I killed the dwarf,’ Murasa admitted. ‘I’m called the Devourer for a reason. I syphon life and mana away from others to feed my own power. That is why I remain untouched and forgotten. No other being can lift this sword – touch me – without having their life essence drained away. Even the creatures without mana, dwarves and gnomes, are susceptible to this effect. But you’re different… You are an Einar. You have been blessed with my power. This makes you immune to my touch. That is why the Pariah chose you to come here from the Trial of the Chair.’
‘Why me? Why not the Pariah?’ Kairos asked. ‘Why can’t they help you then, if they’re so powerful?’
‘They have,’ Murasa answered. ‘For many years, they have calculated the events to bring about our meeting. Without them, you would still be in Logres right now. But to answer your question, they cannot touch me either, because they are made of mana. I would inadvertently absorb what little remains of their power. Only an Einar such as you can touch me. And you are the only one who crossed the sea unscathed. So will you help?’
‘What do I have to do?’ Kairos asked.
‘A simple task. Take me to Zemus’s godshard in Valour Keep.’
Kairos regarded the flames with suspicion. ‘That’s all?’
‘That is all,’ Murasa said. ‘You only have to carry me.’
‘What’s in this for me?’ Kairos replied bitterly. ‘This arrangement seems to benefit only you.’
Cursed Knight Page 36