Into the Madness

by Richard H. Stephens

  Curiously, the entrance to the Crypt was well lit, especially with the vast roof lost in shadow. Countless sconces flickered along the roughly hewn walls. What the flames fed on, Sadyra had no idea.

  After walking for an interminable amount of time, Alhena suggested they stop by a rivulet running along the side of the path before it dropped into a crack. “We should get some much-needed sleep.”

  To a person, everyone balked at the idea. Even the women, who had been full of bravado upon entering the warren. Their faces began to display signs of nervousness the deeper they ventured into the mountain.

  So far, nothing untoward had besieged them. Other than the peculiar breeze whistling eerily through the cavernous tunnel system, they hadn’t heard anything but their own echoing footsteps and Olmar’s constant muttering.

  “Oh my.”

  Sadyra bounded back to the group from the lead position she and Larina assumed soon after entering the Crypt. The giants had seemed content to remain close to Alhena. She stopped in front of Olmar. “If you say that one more time, I’m going to have Rook boost me up so I can bop you on the nose.”

  Olmar frowned at her.

  “That’s all Rina and I can hear up ahead. Oh my this, and oh my that. If there are any ghosts about, you’ve surely informed them of our presence.”

  Larina flashed her a dark glance. “Oh, sure, work him up.” She shook her head and led Olmar to where Rook and Alhena had stopped to prepare a fire on what appeared to be the end of the entrance tunnel as the roadway narrowed and slanted upward into the darkness beyond. Their path was about to enter an immense cavern—its walls and ceiling lost from view.

  “You aren’t helping.” Pollard glared at her and stormed off to join the others.

  Sadyra rolled her eyes and skipped over to join them. “How’re you going to—?”

  From within a circle of rocks, Alhena built a hearty fire using the branches Pollard and Olmar had carried.

  Sadyra couldn’t understand how the fire burned so well on the meagre fuel, but she appreciated the welcome relief from the bone-chilling atmosphere of the Crypt.

  Everyone sat around the fire except Olmar and Pollard. The giants couldn’t stop pacing, searching the shadows at the beginning of the cavern for things that weren’t there.

  After a scant meal of precooked meat scavenged during their trip up the Ocean Way, Sadyra snuggled next to Alhena. “So, Gramps. Tell us about this accord you have with the bone rattler. Why in the world would you come back here?”

  Alhena didn’t respond at first but Sadyra wasn’t put off. He always acted like that. She made it her job to extract the information from him.

  “Come on. You’re the old Wizard of the North. I’m sure rattle bones has no control over you. When this business is done, we’ll come back here with you and settle this. At least I will.”

  The others nodded in agreement.

  “I thank you, but that will not be necessary.” Alhena’s wet eyes met everyone in turn. They stopped on Sadyra. “And especially you. You have the heart of a lion and the tenacity of, how did you put it? A pickled badger? I am sure the Aberrator would be hard put dealing with you.”

  Sadyra became deadly serious. “Like it or not, once you become my friend, you’re stuck with me. You hear?”

  “I assure you all, I am most grateful you treated me as an equal when I was but a simple messenger. I do not doubt your sincerity, but…” Alhena paused, seemingly searching for the right way to respond.

  “Of course we accepted you.” Olmar walked up to the fire and crouched to appreciate the heat. “You’s one of us. You went into the Under Realm and fought as ‘ard as the next person. You ‘ad our backs. We ain’t to be forgettin’ lightly.”

  “Thank you Olmar. You are all a good lot. Because of that, I will let you in on an ancient secret known only by the Wizards of the North.”

  Everyone tightened the circle around the fire. Pollard strode up to stand behind Alhena, his double-bladed sword hanging forgotten from his right hand.

  “The accord I formed with Aberrator is one of necessity. I promised him my life—”

  Olmar grunted. Pollard’s grip on his sword tightened. Sadyra grasped the sleeve of his black cloak and Rook and Larina shared a look of astonishment.

  “Let me finish. I promised the Aberrator my life in exchange for immortality.”

  “Come on Pops. I ain’t bein’ the smartest, an’ I dinnae fear anyone knowin’ it, but even I knows you ain’t makin’ a lick of sense. How can ya be livin’ forever if’n you’re dead?”

  Alhena smiled. “Olmar, you do not give yourself enough credit. Through your simple outlook on life, you are perhaps one of the smartest people I have ever met. Believe me when I say, I have encountered many highly intelligent people in a century and a half, but you have a knack of simple clarity when most of us muddy the waters by overthinking everything.”

  Alhena’s age still threw Sadyra—a century and a half? He appeared to be in his fifties, no more. She hoped she looked that good in thirty years, let alone a hundred and thirty.

  “Och, Pops, you’s jus’ bein’ nice to ol’ Olmar.”

  “Not at all, my friend. The world would be a richer place if it took its council from the likes of you.” Alhena gave Olmar a wink. “Anyway, as much as I enjoy everyone’s company, I have extended my existence in this world longer than I have a right to. If and when Helleden is dealt with, I will allow myself to succumb to nature and give my body the proper rest it desires. Do not be sad for me. The ritual the Aberrator has set out will transform me into a spectre.”

  “A ghost?” Sadyra’s storm-grey eyes grew big.

  “Heh, not a ghost, really. It is hard to explain. I will become a spirit in this world but I will not be trapped in places like the Crypt. I will be accessible to any possessing great arcane ability.

  “Like the Wizard of the North,” Sadyra whispered.

  “Precisely. I will release the current Grimward from his duty and allow him to pass on to the next world.”

  “Grimward?” Sadyra said what everyone’s faces expressed.

  “Aye. A previous Wizard of the North. He will be thankful when I take his place. His tenure has been a long one.”

  “Then you won’t be gone from us,” Olmar said. “We can visit you.”

  “Um, yes and no. I will not be gone from this world, but I will no longer be accessible to most people, including you. Only the Wizard of the North, or someone gifted with a profound magical presence will be able to contact me.”

  Sadyra frowned. “But why? If we deal with Helleden, there won’t be a need for another ghosty thingy.”

  “Spectre.”

  “Whatever. You look good and healthy to me. I bet you outlive the old lady over there.” Sadyra indicated Larina with a tip of her head. “You needn’t come back here for a long time yet.”

  Alhena gave her a sad smile. “Alas, that is not the way of things. The Aberrator performed a duty for me many years ago. One that cost him dearly. It is time to repay my debt. As a man of honour, I cannot shirk my pledge.”

  Sadyra rubbed Alhena’s forearm. “What could be that important to make you exchange your life for it?”

  Alhena went silent.

  Sadyra thought about shaking him but something inside stilled her usual rashness. Out of respect for the wise man, she held her tongue.

  Alhena lifted her hands from his arm and rose slowly, his age showing in his deliberate movement. He looked at each person momentarily before lowering his gaze to the ground and walking several steps into the darkness. Stopping at the edge of the firelight, he peered into the tunnel, back the way they had come.

  Sadyra noticed he left his staff on the ground beside her. Other than their forced time in Gritian, she couldn’t recall ever seeing him without it. She picked it up and walked it to him, her appearance at his side obviously startling him.

  He accepted the staff and faced the anxious faces. A soft orange glow radiated from the gnarle
d knot of wood on the staff’s head—the effect seemingly infusing him with strength and straightening his posture.

  The shadows on his haggard complexion told Sadyra that he struggled with the expenditure the magic had on him. It became clear to her that although the magic sustained him, it was also killing him. She couldn’t imagine what his battle was like, constantly drawing power to prolong his life while at the same time sapping his vitality in ways she couldn’t comprehend.

  “Seeing as you all will get little sleep anyway, let me start at the beginning…well, the beginning as far as I am concerned. The real beginning happened a couple of centuries earlier, so I am told.”

  Alhena walked back to the fire but didn’t sit down.

  Larina and Rook rose to their feet and shuffled closer.

  “Simply put, five centuries ago, a man discovered a portal to another realm. A realm still of this world, but existing on a slightly different plane.”

  Sadyra’s brow knitted together.

  “Bear with me. Much of what I impart won’t make sense, but it is crucial to our cause nonetheless. Indulge me your patience.”

  Mutters of agreement met his statement.

  “What should make this tale digestible is that each of you, except Larina of course, travelled to this plane. The Under Realm. If you recall Master Wendglow’s words, many people have attempted to possess the magical properties of the mystic river. Helleden Misenthorpe being one of them. Seeking to enhance his arcane prowess and return to the newly formed kingdom of Zephyr with the intent of usurping the appointed king’s wizard, and lay claim to that title he so coveted.

  “The first king of Zephyr, Hammaspaul, chose another wizard to reawaken the magical community—Thunor Carmichael.”

  Alhena smiled as a look of recognition crossed everyone’s face except Larina. “Aye, Carmichael. Saros’ and Wendglow’s father. Without getting into the politics of the time, King Hammaspaul had done something no other man had been able to. He had divided and conquered the Great Kingdom, wresting control of the corrupt empire and dividing the lands into five autonomous realms. Hammaspaul claimed Zephyr for himself. The Kraidic Empire’s governance was appointed to the first Kraken whose name eludes me at the moment. The Forbidden Swamp, as most of you know it, was officially called, The Innerworld—so named by its founder, Saros Carmichael. The fourth kingdom lies south of here.” He nodded. “Aye, South March, the kingdom that keeps exclusively to itself, fearing the return to the ways of the Great Kingdom. And then, of course, there are the Wilds.”

  Alhena paused, drinking noisily from his waterskin. He wiped his lips with a robe cuff and continued, “Yes, the Wilds. During those long-ago days when magic was commonplace, the Wilds were an enchanted part of the Great Kingdom. In fact, if what Thunor Carmichael tells is true, the Wilds were a beautiful land once, rampant with fantastical beasts living in harmonious relationship.”

  Sadyra couldn’t help herself. “Even dragons?”

  Alhena nodded. “According to Thunor, dragons were as commonplace as humans. They lived in colonies of their own and even got along for the most part with the wyverns—”

  “Wiferns?” Olmar said out loud.

  “Wyverns. Related to dragons but lacking front legs. Thus, a certain animosity arose between them.”

  “Ahh.” Olmar nodded as if he understood, but Sadyra knew he had no idea. Thinking about it, neither did she.

  “Anyway, that is not important. What is important is Helleden’s role in the obliteration of magic.”

  Rook piped in. “That makes no sense. He’s a sorcerer.”

  Alhena held up a finger. “It does if you want to be the only magic user. That has been Helleden’s primary goal since losing out to Thunor five centuries ago. Helleden returned from the Under Realm and went directly to the Kraidic emperor. He propagated a deep-rooted fear in the Kraidic people, convincing them that magic users would be the downfall of life as they knew it.

  “To strike back at Thunor and King Hammaspaul, Helleden masterminded the Arcanium Trials, effectively banishing magic from the western kingdoms. The fallout of the massacre spread far and wide. The action precipitated the divide between Zephyr and the Kraidic Empire. Magical creatures were hunted to extinction. Their only safe haven was the Wilds and that is where Saros Carmichael comes into play. He had also returned from the Under Realm but under entirely different circumstances.

  “If you recall Wendglow’s words, Saros and he arrived in the Under Realm as soldiers in a disgruntled general’s army. The general sought the power of the river to overthrow Emperor Zarlothe, the benevolent leader of the Great Kingdom. Emperor Zarlothe and this general had developed, um, let us say, irreconcilable differences.”

  Sadyra frowned, trying to remember what Wendglow had said. “According to Master Wendglow, Zarlothe’s general never made it back.”

  “That is correct, but one of the general’s men did. The Morphisis. At least, that is what I believe, now that I have had time to reflect on everything Wendglow said, but I keep digressing. Where were we?”

  “You’s be on about Saros returnin’ from the Under Realm.” Olmar gave Sadyra a wink.

  “Yes! Yes. There was much unrest throughout the Great Kingdom. Adjoining duchies were fighting amongst each other and derision developed in the succession of The Great Kingdom’s throne. Despite the failed expedition to the Under Realm, a coup, orchestrated by Zarlothe’s daughter of all people, saw the emperor assassinated. The subsequent fallout ripped the kingdom apart.

  “King Hammaspaul, a minor duke at the time, rallied those loyal to the slain emperor and quashed the rebellion. Saros, who played an instrumental role in Hammaspaul’s victory, recognized the oncoming storm of derision Helleden began to stir up in the aftermath.

  “Despite the arcane ability Saros acquired from the mystical river, he feared he wasn’t strong enough to prevent the inevitable, so he sought to make a difference in the only way that made sense to him. He founded the Innerworld. Not to protect the emerging smaller kingdoms from the Wilds, but to protect the magical creatures in the Wilds from the kingdoms.

  Sadyra yawned, setting everyone else off. “That’s interesting and all, but how does that have anything to do with you and the Aberrator?”

  Alhena looked away, lost in thought. When he spoke, he did so quietly. “I am trying to help you understand my predicament from a deeper level. I fear I have only muddled it further. The Aberrator has been around for as long as history recalls. In simple terms, he is a necromancer, but I assure you, he is much more than that. As bizarre as the man appears, he is in no small means responsible for all that had occurred since the Great Kingdom fell. He opened the way for Thunor to become the Grimward and facilitated Saros’ transformation into the spirit of Deneabola.”

  Rook perked up at that.

  “Everything that has transpired over the last five centuries originated a few hundred years before, in a time when the land was governed by a high king. People and creatures existed in a harmonious relationship in pockets across the lands. They fought for their place in the world and for their food.

  “Aye. When it comes to the food chain, we think of ourselves as being on top. Back then, we were just another link. We were hunted for our meat the same way we hunt and domesticate animals today. We were no better, nor worse, than the next animal, but our arrogance, perhaps the one trait humans possess that the others do not, drove us to eradicate anything above us in the chain. As a result, many beautiful creatures no long populate the lands.” His timbre reflected his sadness.

  “Several hundred years ago, a bond formed between a group of people and the dragon kind. A relationship of trust and goodwill. They combined their knowledge and strengths, intent on making the lands a richer experience for everyone. An attempt to live in harmony and enjoy life.

  “As with anything worth keeping, there are those who lust after more. These self-serving actions usually result in the downfall of everything morally decent in the world. These self-destr
uctive behaviours are inherent in only one creature. Man.”

  Alhena paused to gaze at his audience. “Getting to the point, many people worked hard to prevent mankind from destroying the utopia they already enjoyed but were too short-sighted to realize. Magic was shared by the dragons—passed down through a select lineage of man in order to ferret out those who wished to subvert the freedoms of the masses.”

  Olmar yawned loudly and sat cross-legged in front of the dying fire.

  Sadyra rubbed her tired eyes and curled up against him.

  Alhena smiled. “I am sorry. I keep wandering. I do not recall ever reciting this to anyone but M…” he caught himself. “But my acolyte. Anyway, dark magic reared its ugly head. Its procurers hunted the benevolent magic users to further the aims of what I have recently discovered to be the grand design of the creature known as the Soul. Wendglow and I believe Silurian put an end to that vile creature.

  “Getting to the point, Helleden orchestrated the Arcanium Trials to fuel the Soul’s insatiable desire in locating the one person strong enough to free it. The Soul fed on the magic of those not worthy, which, it turns out, was every wizard and magical creature Helleden had captured for it.

  “Luckily, a few wizards fled into obscurity. Thunor Carmichael barricaded himself high atop Dragon’s Tooth, constructing substantial geographical hindrances between himself and the armies of darkness. However, those obstacles kept him from re-entering the fray without Helleden becoming aware of his movements, thus an impasse developed.”

  Sadyra noticed the bleary eyes of the others. She yawned again and forced her eyes wide in an effort to remain focused on Alhena’s words. He droned on and on and still hadn’t answered her question. She was more confused now than when he started.

  Alhena’s staff infused power into the waning flames. He sat beside Rook. “I guess we should get some much-needed rest.”

  Sadyra sat up, her glare casting daggers at him, but it was Larina who spoke up.

  “For the love of Olmar’s tart, just tell us what the Aberrator has to do with you or I’ll hand you over to him myself!”