by K M McGuire
“V-V-Vo-Vod-d-en-en,” he stammered, his voice broken and static.
Voden caught his body as he fell, and spouts of tar ejected from the portal, and foam pooled at his mouth. The light in the other eye burned cold, and the color was taken back to the void it had sparked from. Voden felt his lip tremble, knowing that he would never hear his friend’s voice again, despite how much he felt he needed to hear him now.
“Andar,” Voden said, bringing his body to the ground. He stroked his hair, staring at the memories lying in his arms. The silence of all that Andar was and could have been now ran cold in his once vivacious eye. All Voden could see was what he had known for so long, the part he had not been willing to let go of. Even with his eye, dead and unfocused, there still rested beaming radiance of hope, caught in the gloss. At least that part could now lie in peace. Voden felt the finality of it, and his anger welled up. All for the sake of Eigan’s aspirations.
Voden could not figure out how, but there would be some way he would vindicate himself, vindicate his friends, for all that Eigan had put them through.
“I hope you can find the rest you deserve. If ever there was a person who deserved the Great Beyond, I pray it for you,” Voden whispered, staring up at the stars. No, just the one star. The light from the legged discs had taken them too. All but one. He felt the tears wash against his cheeks. All the sorrow that he felt could not build up any further. Voden felt no peace. “I am so sorry,” he cried, shivering shoulders pouring out all he had felt since he had returned to Adetia.
The city and Voden were now akin, broken and abandoned.
His tears became the only sound he heard, trying to make amends with the death of his friend. He begged himself to believe it was not him who killed Andar. He still couldn’t help but feel ashamed as he stared at the smears of reddish black tar merging into the fabric of his clothes. He didn’t register Kintza rising from his position, or Eigan shuffling around, talking to the guards. His attention was snatched, however, by a gentle sound of metal hitting the ground beside Andar. He gleaned through his grief-stricken eyes a blurry image of a glowing blue helix of polygons lying next to his body. Voden wiped the tears from his eyes. He let the polygons take him through the melancholy of nostalgia, remembering when the plates spun up Andar’s arm and his valiant efforts to set the world proper. What it had become for him was profoundly special.
Voden blinked his eyes, trying to imagine him without the artifact. The grace it gave Voden was a relic of the past. a token of peace for what he had lost, like roses set over a grave. It was a dichotomy that sang the harmonies of life and death, of love and loss, and how the greater of the two was always compounded at the advent of the other.
He grabbed the helix of metal, looking at how intricate and gorgeous the designs etched into the plates were. It instantly burst into life, blossoming into a shower of blue light, writhing in his hand. It pulled out from his fingers and slithered up his dominant arm like a hungry beast eager to devour. It swirled around his arm, nearly cupping his shoulder. The light seeped from its cracks, illuminating the hairs on Voden’s arm. He did not know if it was excitement or fear that filled him, as the metal snapped into position in the familiar shape he had seen on Andar. He ran his fingers across the surface, marveling at how nicely it fit, and how he could still easily move, when he heard something familiar whisper in his head.
Voden, be at peace. Now, I am with you.
Voden could not grasp or understand the swirl of emotions that trickled through his spine. He looked around, becoming keenly aware of every eye capturing the moment in disbelief, yet no one was close enough to speak so softly to him. The circle of guards became visibly tense, holding spear and sword, ready to strike at the priest’s command. Eigan came marching forward, his ancient face scrunched with fury, as he slapped the back of the head of one of the Azuchons.
“Bind him!” he seethed, and with a timid shake, the Azuchon shuffled over to Voden. Voden looked at his arm, wondering how to unsheathe the blade from his limb, when he heard the voice again.
Voden, it said, which made Voden’s chest ping with a strange sentiment. It sounded so similar to Andar. Do not be rash! There is limited energy for that! Andar burned so much to tear open that gate. There is too much at stake at present!
Who are you? Voden thought to the voice. The guards were now reaching out to grab him, while he remained focused on the inner conversation.
I am not of this world. It’s true, I have taken the voice of Andar, but only for your benefit. I am known in this world as Malavar. I am a being from the realm beyond time. I need you to listen!
Voden remained quiet as the guards kicked behind his knees, and he dropped to ground. He hardly felt it. His body just conformed. The Azuchon’s arm split into crude polygons and they slicked around his arm, flashing energy around his wrists. He lifted Voden up as Eigan came marching forward, Kintza staring thoughtfully at Voden.
They are planning something catastrophic. My captors have been extracting things from me for ages, hoping to pull the light from out of my flesh. They are hoping to use me to tear a rift into the Beyond. This has been their plan since Eurruk and I defeated them at the Tower of Knowledge. My strength dwindles, child. You must find me, Voden! The Vedra will return to the world unless you can find a way to set me free!
“There is much more to you than I could have seen,” Eigan interrupted, looking closely at Voden. His eyes sparked with a crazed admiration, gazing down at Voden’s arm to see the silver coil. He made a strange noise. “You must possess great…wells of power. I must find a way to extract it.”
“You have shown your worth, Eigan,” Kintza finally spoke, his voice surprising the guards. “Perhaps it is time for me to truly stretch my wings.” His head snapped suddenly to stare at Eigan. Eigan shuddered the slightest bit, which pleased Voden, knowing he was also prone to fear. “Be gone! You and your guards have served their purpose. This is what time has dictated to me from the inception of the worlds.”
Eigan leered at Kintza, his lips tight in thought. Finally, he looked at the Azuchons who obeyed immediately Kintza’s order and released Voden. Voden gulped, staring at the autonomous bird. Its mass was provocative to the point that Voden began to think his consternation was palpable in the gentle cloud of breath leaving Kintza’s body.
“There is a beginning and end to all things,” Kintza said, his mass lifting to his full height.
He spread his golden limbs, as a burst of light flickered, and a sheet of pink and purple polygons cascaded from the golden spindles. Bolts of static stitched between the spaces, dancing along their edges, until they were completely unfurled, each shape its own universe in time. Splashes of star clusters drifted along each and occasionally stuttered in place, flickering into a new view of the cosmos. “It is with slight disappointment that you will never have the chance to see the end of this great revolution! I find that I no longer have the patience that I once possessed, nor the care for silly banter any longer. My insanity, while fixed in the Collapsing Plane, was set on how best to distill my visions of you, Voden.”
Voden swallowed, feeling the owl’s oppressive words thicken, as if it turned the air to sludge. He lurched forward, the earth trembling at his claw, thwarting all other utterances that may have lingered in the audience, flashing his whirling eye down on Voden with a flicker of purple. The light hid Voden’s failing color. “I have thought long about you! All my whispers to that silly engineer were bent towards my escape, knowing, in part, that you were the key. With precision, I helped to devise the path to you, for you, Koruza being my voice to lure you into enabling my freedom. The Father knew, dear boy! He knew the snares set, and all of you were strings to him! There is no fading away in fate! Only stretching to a purpose, becoming all as a means to an end! For he will be the end, and your knees will shatter under his sovereignty!”
Voden! Malavar yelled in Voden’s head, as the third eye of Kintza pulsed brightly. Speckles of energy drifted towards the eye
, as a whirling whine grew louder with a droning hum. The eye began to scintillate, the aperture widening. Bloody purple bleached the colors surrounding the eye. Get out of here!
Voden couldn’t help but stare at the light. It was brilliant. Something majestic seemed to culminate at its center. But what was it? He needed to know.
“Voden!” Yael screamed from behind. He snapped his attention quickly to her as she pulled at the guards holding her, eyes puffed with tears. “RUN!”
Voden looked back at Kintza, as the light suddenly snapped white, and the final particle dissolved into the mechanical pupil. Voden’s legs began to pound against the cobble, rushing for the only place he saw as safe. But the beam projected forward, crushing into the ground that Voden had just been standing in, burning a molten hole into the earth. The heat erupted along his back, causing him to stagger, feeling the skin almost instantly boiling. It puffed into pockets of burning liquid that surfaced beneath his skin.
He still pressed on, stifling the pain by gritting his teeth and expelling a sudden yelp he could not repress. He slid behind two columns standing at the side of the monolith, panting and wheezing, now that he had a moment of safety. He forgot for a second about the burns as he pressed his back against the stone, and he clenched his teeth, trying to bite back the pain. He never felt himself more pitiful, but the pain hurt even more now, and he nearly lost his vision to the blackness of agony. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, using the adrenaline to focus anywhere other than his back. It felt like thousands of wasps had burrowed into his skin and gleefully stabbed him with their stingers in thunderous pulses. It osculated with each pound of his heart, forcing the misery to every synapse. He turned to lean his shoulder against the pillar, and with a searing twist, felt the wetness sizzling on his back, squeezing his eyes tight to push the sensation away.
“I can’t do this,” Voden said, trembling at his tightening dance with death. “Malavar, how am I to face Kintza?”
You already know his weakness, Malavar replied, as it is with everything for him, it comes to your timing.
“What does that mean?” Voden pleaded. The ground shook dust from the columns, showering down on Voden’s head before Malavar could respond.
“It all means nothing,” Kintza replied, his eye peeking around the column in front of Voden. Kintza raised his wing, slashing at the column between them. Voden rolled to the side as rock hit against the column he hid behind, and a shower of chunks sprayed Voden’s body. Kintza slithered his head around, searching for Voden, his eyes twitching this way and that. “In the end, you are all pawns to a game that was never about you! It always revolved around the king and his queen, his bishop and castles. The pawns are merely distractions to the bigger story.” Again, his eye began to swell quickly with light.
Voden fled. The blast missed, but he still felt his burns screaming with pain from the heat coming off the beam. The row of columns was cut in half as Kintza spun his head to manipulate the ray coming from his eye. It shot straight into the stands, disintegrating a group of people in shrieks of terror. Now the crowd became wild with fevered chatter, no longer wishing to stay put, looking for ways to leave. Even the Azuchons struggled to hold their composure. Kintza screeched an ear-rupturing cry, and Voden knew that his fury was building.
Voden, you must take that spear, Malavar urged.
Voden looked at the charred legs of Andar. He felt a terrible clench in his gut. He was not aware it had landed in the path of Kintza’s destruction. The spear still hung in his chest. The smoke wafted along his flaking skin, but the spear was still intact. Voden heard a beat of massive wings and looked to see Kintza had taken to the air again.
Let him corner you.
Voden became confused and wanted to refuse the idea. He was aching, the skin on his back was tearing, his shirt, what was left of it, was now wet with plasma. It stung with each step he took, sticking and pulling away, ripping the boiling pockets open. Kintza landed, foot crushing the head of Andar, his body responding to the collision, claws cutting the remainder of his skin. Voden slid to a stop, all but falling over from the eruption of pain, eyes still on the spear, analyzing his options. There, it stuck between Kintza’s claws, unfettered by the beast.
“I am weary of this game!” Kintza exclaimed, purple smoke slithering out of his hungry beak and into the sky. The eye flicked to life, Voden’s back now at the chasm of the Well. He rushed towards Kintza, yearning to place his hands on the spear. The beam shot forward, and the heat bubbled the skin on Voden’s left arm. He tried to hold back the pain even as it left his mouth, hoping to get to the spear before the agony caused him to collapse for good. The beam cut a trench leading into the pit, burning a hole through the other side, leaving smoking dirt glowing in its wake. But Voden reached the spear. His hand laced itself around the pole as he tripped over the talon of Kintza and managed to fall near the beast’s leg. Dust ground into the loose pockets on his back. He had not known pain until now, where dying sounded more pleasant than what his writhing muscles struggled to endure. Yet he managed to hold the spear in his hand. Kintza realized what had happened and turned to look at the fallen boy.
“Enough of this,” Kintza bellowed, raising up his wings. He thrust them down and a huge torrent of air pinned Voden to the ground as the raptor lifted several feet above him.
Time shifted into a crawl as he lay staring up at the great beast preparing its final assault. In some sense, the motion was beautiful, like a painting of a bird caught in flight. The sensation was odd and nauseating, being able to move normally himself while the rest of the world loomed in that elongated moment.
This is all I can allow for you, Voden, Malavar said weakly. I cannot spare much more energy than this. I will slow time enough for you to make your move. But this moment is a gift, much like every other. With it, you must choose how to use it. I am weak! The Vedra have taken much of me! I will return when I can spare it. Find me when you are able and willing!
Malavar’s voice shrank in his head, echoing the last words over and over. Kintza curled with pent up energy, ready to bring his full force down on Voden. It was odd. He was given time to reflect for a moment, at peace with what he could do. He looked at the eye. The evil, unblinking oppression, as it absorbed every detail of Voden’s emanate demise. It widened slowly in anticipation.
Voden rose to his feet as vertigo flushed over him. He lifted the spear. In that moment, time fell back into its normal pace, throwing Voden off guard for a split second. But his mind became flooded with all the memories of what he was ‘fated to do’; what he was supposed to do. He hoisted the spear defiantly and cast it up at Kintza’s head.
“You do not hold my future!” he yelled as the spear splintered the glass in the center eye. It slid through until it thunked at the back of the golden orb. Sputters of ooze and fragments of glass ejected from the eye, as if it was coughing up its content in terrible fits. Kintza groaned in a strange, stagger of noise, convulsing and writhing as he fell to the ground. He struggled to raise himself back up, pressing his one wing against the earth, and the polygons fluctuated in and out of existence, finally giving into the lack of power that drained from the eye. Kintza’s foot twitched and crumbled, trying to support his weight, but collapsed into a smoking heap of worthless metal. His head came blindly down towards Voden, but he jumped out of the way, still breathing heavily from the fight. The only thing that remained the same about Kintza was the dead stare from his two remaining eyes that tried to consume the world. Steam hissed from inside him, leaving only that sound to defy the silence that had taken the crowd captive.
Black cords ran across the cosmos, expanding to the edge of what was known, knocking at the fringe of finality. Through the portal, a spark of light caught trapped against the deepest dark of the void, unable to break through the egress of glass, blazing the surface in unbroken purple. It was just as captured as the tendrils that tried to fill the expanse. Particles of languid lanterns drifted through the space, a choir hopi
ng to give meaning to the emptiness inside. It was all held in stillness, the moment unchanging from its last taste of life, a snow globe of duality unshaken and without conclusion.
The only thing that loomed in the dark, that shadowed even the obscurity cascading across the orbs, was the figure whose shoulders lifted up and down with each breath he took. Voden saw what the battle had cost him. His skin along his arm was badly burned, as well as his back. The pain began to settle in, with each beat of his heart, reminding him of the pockets of boiled liquid, wincing every time he breathed.
He stared at the eyes that told him he was lost to the future. He felt relief for a moment, having avenged himself from the deception. Fate indeed. He looked at the broken aperture. Shards of glass covered in purple slime were strewn across the ground. The thick sludge dripped loosely from the cavern penetrated by the spear. The brazen exterior of Kintza still smoldered, though he no longer twitched. Voden looked through the dancing wisps of secrets escaping Kintza and caught a glimpse of an uneasy assembly, and then his friends still puffy with emotions.
His knees buckled, the pain finally taking its toll on him, unaware of how weak he had become. It was then he saw the guards rushing towards him, and he took no effort to defend himself. How could he? He had wasted so much energy trying to escape from Kintza. The Azuchons snatched his arms, as he bit his lip and howled with pain, as they dragged him over to Eigan. He could not function. He tried to hold his eyes open, but the pain just clenched them together. He coughed as though his lungs had forgotten what air tasted like. It was excruciating, and the Azuchons threw him down at Eigan’s feet, sword and spear pointed at his head. In a moment, the other half-men dragged Vec and Yael, forcing them on their knees next to Voden.