Empire Asunder BoxSet

by Michael Jason Brandt

Leti watched as an Akenberg soldier—the quiet one, whose name eluded her memory—lifted his dead king from the ground and carried him back toward their camp.

  11

  Bloodspire

  “Unless you walk in their boots, no one can know another’s mind, Jak.”

  “I knew enough to understand my actions. I just didn’t want to.”

  “Nonsense. You speak with the certainty that comes after the event. No one—not even you—has that much foresight—” The sentence gave way to a strained grunt as he heaved himself over a boulder.

  Jak and Kluber picked their way along the rocky trail, often needing to climb as much as walk. If the old man had been correct about this being a pilgrimage site, it had clearly long since fallen into disuse, for only the most determined of visitors would have made it this far.

  From above, his friend extended a hand and pulled Jak onto a particularly high perch. From there, they could see the top of the depression where their destination was likely to be.

  Despite the precariousness of their narrow foundation, Kluber stood up straight and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing sun. Typical for the Asturian desert, not a single hint of cloud marred the perfectly blue sky.

  “If there is a spire there, it must not be very tall.” He sounded a bit skeptical that the shrine existed at all.

  Jak did not worry about that. The shrine was close. He could feel its proximity from the cruel throbbing in his hand and the burning presence of the stone in his pocket.

  He both was and was not in a hurry to get there.

  The effort and the heat of midafternoon had covered his skin and clothing with a heavy coat of uncomfortable sweat. He wiped his brow on a forearm, only to make matters worse.

  The conversation was not any more pleasant.

  He wished Kluber would just come out and say it. Somehow, Jak thought it might make him feel better to hear the truth from someone else.

  But since his friend would not, Jak did so himself. “There’s no reason to hide it. It’s my fault.”

  For perhaps the hundredth time, he felt the tears welling up inside. But he pushed them back, for there was a task ahead that required no distractions.

  Kluber growled indignantly as he led the way down the winding trail into the slot canyon, the trail barely wide enough for one at a time. The long curve of the side they descended blocked sight of much of the bottom, but one quick glance downward revealed that it was surprisingly far below.

  “Bah. If you want to place fault, blame the demons that destroyed our home. Or Kevik, whose actions brought this doom on everyone. You did what you had to do, and she did what she had to do. Her life was her own to live or give, and we can only honor her sacrifice. There is nothing more to... Great Theus, Jak, would you look at that.”

  The remainder of the canyon opened to their inspection, and though high walls shrouded much of the floor below in shadow, the most prominent feature could not be missed. There, in the midst of miles and miles of pale orange limestone, a giant spire of the blackest rock jutted up from the distant floor.

  They continued toward it in silence, their thoughts now consumed by the event that would transpire. Soon Jak’s sight could penetrate farther into the shadow, and he saw the ruined foundation of the ancient shrine, then the large brackish pool of green water and brown algae cut with imperfect lines into the hard ground. How the water even existed here was as great a mystery as any other, but one that Jak would have to ponder another time.

  The sun was setting by the time they reached the bottom.

  As they stepped from trail to canyon floor, Jak studied the spire from up close. In form, it bore a striking resemblance to the monolith of the Temple of Versatz Tempus, deep below in the ruins of Ra’Cheka. This rock was basalt, however, though no such rock could exist naturally in this place. And near its base sat a tiny crude square altar of the same unnatural substance.

  The whole thing radiated a chill that still failed to provide any comfortable relief from the heat.

  Kluber looked from companion to pillar. “Last chance,” he said. Without waiting for a reply, he dropped the heavy bundle of materials he had been carrying.

  Following the other’s lead, Jak unslung the shovel that was strapped to his back. He aimed a few thrusts into the dense earth. “Here… Here… Here.”

  Other than a few words of cooperation, they worked without speaking. That suited Jak fine, for the task demanded all their focus. Nevertheless, after thirty minutes of labor that took them from twilight to darkness, both men had to stop and rest. And with rest came renewed conversation.

  “Can’t you use your magick to speed this up?” Kluber asked, with a return to his old testiness.

  “Nay. I don’t want to give them any warning.” He did not bother to say who they were. Kluber understood his meaning well enough.

  Jak started a small fire while Kluber dug out a portion of rations. Neither was hungry, but they knew the effort ahead of them would tax their strength.

  They consumed their modest meal, let the fire die, and continued in the starlight.

  Quietly, for the most part. Jak sneaked a few sidelong glances at his friend, admiring the determination with which the young man worked. How different he was from the arrogant magistrate’s son of long ago.

  Jak had punched him in the gut once, when the older boy’s fear and panic was threatening to spread to Kleo and beyond. And ever since that moment, Kluber had followed Jak with greater loyalty than he could have asked for, or wanted. All the way to this moment.

  In the dim light, the lean figure was little more than a silhouette. Now that figure stood up and looked down at its handiwork. “All right. The stakes are in deep enough, I think. Show me again how to place the fulcrum.”

  Jak did, then set about covering the ropes and netting with loose dirt. The pulley and anchor had been his greatest concern, but the ruined shrine provided both the remnants of a frame over which to toss the rope and plenty of heavy blocks suitable enough for his purpose, once he and Kluber could maneuver them into place.

  By the time they finished, the night was nearly over.

  “Should we wait until morn?” Jak said, eyeing the stars above. Even as he asked the question, he doubted its logic and motive. Because of the high walls around them, morn would not come to them for a few more hours. Besides, if the summoning worked, the skies would become a maelstrom, day indistinguishable from night.

  Nay, he had simply been putting off the confrontation.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Kluber met Jak’s eyes, and the long slow bond that had developed between them hung heavy like a taut cord about to snap. There were no words to express, and Kluber turned away to take a position near the edge of the repugnant water.

  “Summoning is something different than praying for favor. Are you sure this will work?” he called out.

  “Not at all,” Jak said, pulling a pouch from his pocket, then sliding the Eye of Orkus into his palm. For once, his left hand felt free of pain, and he tossed the stone casually up and down, up and down.

  How this tiny object had changed his life, in so many ways for the better. And some for the worse.

  One last toss, then he gripped it firmly and brought it down as hard as he could on the cold black stone of the altar.

  The explosion knocked Jak onto his back so hard he feared he may have broken his spine. That would put a quick end to this bold plan, he thought with irrational amusement. The concussion made his head swim, and he contemplated never getting up from this comfortable position. Forcing his eyes open, he stared straight up at the sky, watching in wonder just how quickly the dark clouds and thunderous rumbles began.

  —What have you done?

  Jak managed to get his elbows beneath him, and slowly propped himself up. Still rattled, he watched with a mild curiosity as the ground and air beside the altar shimmered and shook. Quickly—or perhaps slowly—a solid form took shape, drawn out of the earth itself. Tall and thin, shimm
ering, difficult to focus the eyes on.

  Come, rock-child, come. Jak smiled to himself, his wits not yet fully returned.

  —Stand up, fool.

  He rolled onto his side, then was able to push himself upright. His legs were unsteady, but at least he was able to face the devil as a thane should.

  The thing before him seemed to be more sand than rock, and its shape ebbed and flowed like malleable clay.

  The fair weather had turned foul, first darkening the sky as clouds blocked out moon and stars. Then a mild brightening followed, as those same clouds began to flash, faster and faster. Soon the delay between bursts of light and crashing noises was so negligible as to be absent.

  —You. You are the one who seeks constant favor. The one who delves into secrets beyond your feeble understanding. You are no Archon.

  Nay, I am hratha.

  —And you make use of my blessings, only to cast them away in the end? For what purpose?

  Jak looked down, showing supplication. And studying the marks on the ground. I seek conversation. We have much to discuss.

  He took one step backward, away from the terrible being. Then another.

  —You are petulant. We have naught to discuss. You displease me, and you will be punished.

  Jak took one more step back, then stopped himself. If it must be, then I accept your judgment. If I have displeased you, then strike me down now. He kneeled.

  The figure seemed to grow larger as it moved closer, rising above him. Just what form its punishment would take, Jak never found out. Lashing out with his arm, he knocked over the trigger of the trap.

  Netting sprang out of the ground, displacing the thin layer of soil that had camouflaged its existence. As it wrapped the target in sudden bondage, Jak leaped to his feet and tugged on the rope that hung over the solid stone framework. At the same time, Kluber shoved the anchor block off the edge of the pool into the fetid water. The resulting splash made a sound more pleasing to Jak’s ear than the liveliest festival music. He was able to let go of the rope and admire their handiwork.

  The avatar of earth was pulled off the ground no more than a foot, but that distance was enough. In contact with its own elemental plane, Ithicus was an all-powerful being. Deprived of that contact, the devil was vulnerable.

  Jak cast an eye toward Kluber. Together, the two of them would maneuver their quarry into the water. Once there, Jak intended to call down lightning, time after time if need be, until it was dead.

  A sound like laughter echoed in his ears. He looked away from his friend, who had taken no more than a step towards them, and back at the devil and the net. He watched how easily its shape changed, no different from sand itself, passing between thick lines of net until it reformed itself, entirely whole, back on the ground. Back on earth, where it was master.

  —Pitiful.

  Jak had to agree. He had always known the trap was too primitive to succeed. He simply had not been able to think of anything better. So he had deluded himself, and Kluber, and gotten them both killed. His friend deserved better.

  This time he backed up not in guile, but in fear. One step, two, three…until he was stopped by the brackish pool. Ithicus followed with no particular urgency, for there was nowhere to run.

  Jak kneeled once more, not in supplication to the devil before him, but to the world entire, to all women and men who would have to continue suffering these intolerable privations. I’m sorry I failed you all.

  The wind whipped and whirled through the narrow ravine, pushing and pulling on his puny frame. His body shook from the boom of incessant thunder, each pounding shockwave threatening to knock him over entirely.

  The thing before him stood perfectly still, unbothered by the noise and disruption.

  Jak waited, expecting the punishment to come quickly, whatever form it might take. He wished Ithicus would get this miscarried confrontation over with. At least that would put an end to this painful sense of despair.

  The winds continued to howl, the lightning to flash, the air to tingle with untapped energy. Yet no strike came, and the devil remained unmoving.

  -Oh. What is this, then?

  Then Jak felt it, too. A disturbance in the air, in the ground, in dark cloud and dead water. Akin to the atmospheric transformations of the ritual sacrifices down below, amplified tenfold, and far more dizzying.

  -Brothers, sisters, what has happened?

  Jak remained still, as well, attempting to make sense of the currents. Locked in confusion, much as Ithicus was.

  Kluber chose a different course. From a running start, he launched himself at the devil as a wrestler might a bear. The two tumbled together over the side of the pool, splashing into water just as the useless stone block had a short time before. Two objects—one head, and one shapeless lump—appeared at the surface. Kluber lunged, securing a better grip on his opponent, wrapping both arms on the form as Ithicus attempted to pull away. His grip loosened as its form softened. But the rippling water pulled apart loose strands, forcing the shape to solidify again and again, and each time Kluber gained fresh purchase.

  What do I do now? Jak was frozen in indecision. The plan had gone horribly wrong. He could not strike the water with lightning. Not without killing both devil and man.

  He saw his friend’s mouth open, taking in water as he yelled, but the deafening crash of thunder drowned out the sound. So he simply continued to watch as fragile mortal struggled on with impotent divine.

  Kluber yelled a second time. “Jak!”

  Nay.

  “Now!”

  Nay.

  “Do it!”

  The devil was twisting free, splashing ineffectually but slowly moving toward the side of the pool. Jak knew that as soon as it reached, its strength would return once more.

  He stared up at the sky. Rain whipped across his face, and a flash reminded him that his work was all but already done for him. He closed his eyes.

  I will not sacrifice again. Not to our enemy.

  There are other forces out there. I will find them.

  Jak stood, feeling the crackle of power all around him. It was not difficult to reach into the sky above. He commanded and aimed.

  Eyes closed, he felt more than saw the brilliant flash. Another explosion sent a shockwave through his body, but he kept his feet. He considered calling another, then stopped himself. Nay, one is sufficient.

  He opened his eyes, facing the water. The two figures continued to wrestle, and the devil was very nearly to the edge.

  Then Jak turned in the other direction, watching the spire break from its base where the lightning had struck. The dark shape began to fall, gaining speed, plummeting faster and faster toward the pool.

  Kluber made one more effort to pull Ithicus back, bracing his own legs against the side as leverage. Then he and devil disappeared beneath tons of black stone. The shattering—and any ensuing cries—were drowned out by more claps of thunder. That, or Jak’s mind had simply refused to listen.

  He sank to his knees, eyes riveted to the water’s turbulent surface. Looking for movement, simultaneously terrified and desperate to see any.

  A few seconds, or whole minutes, passed. Jak crawled forward. He had wanted to save his friend, had not known how else to give him a chance. But rather than let go, Kluber had fought on and on.

  Debris was everywhere, and the darkness grew more total as the lightning faded. Soon, the clouds would disperse. Until then, it was nearly impossible to see anything.

  The water still swirled as Jak plunged his hand in. Kluber, please take it.

  The thinning remnants of cloud revealed a sky in transition from night to morn. Jak hardly noticed as he drove his arm deeper into the pool.

  “Are you looking for me?” came a voice from the other side.

  Jak closed his eyes, fighting back tears.

  “That water reeks more than I thought possible,” Kluber went on. “I’ll stink for days.”

  Jak found his own voice. “You already did.”
>
  That met with a chuckle. Not a real show of mirth, but closer to it than anything Jak had heard from his friend in ages. He heard movement, wet footsteps approaching, and felt a hand on his shoulder. He covered that hand with his own.

  “Is it dead, Jak?”

  Even in the dim light, the thick lines of sludge that had crept to the surface of the calming water were visible. But an earththane did not need to see them to feel the portent of the changes all around.

  He exhaled, releasing all the long buildup of strain in one quick burst. “It is. The others will be angry.”

  “They should be worried. Our next one will go smoother.”

  Burgeoning daylight illuminated the path as the two of them slowly picked their way up the side of the canyon. The passage was treacherous and their bodies exhausted, likely to trip or slip from tired limbs and clumsy movements. Both knew the wisest choice was to rest and take their time.

  They hurried anyway, for they wanted to spend not one minute longer than necessary in this place. And the thrill of what they had done charged their bodies and minds with an insatiable desire to keep going.

  Before noon, they left the dangerous portion behind, and with it the superfluous energy that had propelled them through the morn. Now the journey became a slow walk amongst low hills and shallow rifts, a mindless activity allowing their attentions to shift elsewhere.

  At least the trail was now wide enough to walk side-by-side, encouraging conversation and a finish to the much earlier discussion.

  “I’m glad we talked about this, at last,” Jak admitted. “The guilt was too painful to carry alone forever.”

  “You carried it too long, especially since it was unnecessary.”

  Jak did not know whether he would ever agree with that sentiment, but he did appreciate hearing it. “I hear her last words in my mind a dozen times each day. ‘Be well, Jak. Be well, Jak.’”

  “And she meant them. Be well. They weren’t an accusation. She had accepted her fate, and she wanted those she cared about to go on.”

  “I…don’t know, Kluber.”