L. PERMITTING THE NOBLE DEAD TO DESCEND TO THE UNDERWORLD
A team of archers, gangly creatures with the faces of a rat and emaciated body of a man crossed with a hound, rained down arrows from the branches as Aichlan and company wound their way up the road littered with corpses and debris. Eth charged towards the front of the pack, leaving a trail of smoldering carcasses in his wake, and propelled himself up onto a nearby tower with a burst of fire. He belted three of the archers with a ball of flame, causing them to fall shrieking to their deaths, and clamored up the twisting branches to dispatch the third. Before he could reach them however, Rowena took them out with four well placed shots in rapid succession.
Two ogres barreled down upon the group, wielding massive clubs, horse like phalluses swinging between their legs. Eth leapt from his position in the branches, impaling his sword into the skull of one. As it collapsed with a thud, Rowena pelted the other with a flurry of arrows, while Donough charged in and kneecapped the giant. Clarissa scurried forward to heal Eth’s broken shins and wrist as Donough rendered a fiery coup de grace to the second ogre.
The group breathlessly arrived at the second gondola platform, only to find that it too had been destroyed. The tree shook violently beneath them as a massive bolt of lightning erupted from its side. None could say whether it was Alice for sure, and no one wished to voice a speculation. Silently, they continued their journey up the winding road around the massive tree, the sounds of battle drowned out by the wind howling through the leaves; the encounters with demons and undead becoming far and few between.
Eventually, the road gave way to a flight of stone steps. Exhausted from their earlier marathon, they slowly made the grueling trek. As they reached the top of the flight of stairs, the sun had begun its descent towards the horizon. They were met by massive doors of ornate iron over carved stone slabs that seemed to have been plucked from the deepest regions of the planet. In all, the double doors were over two stories high with no visible means to open them. There was no knocker, no pulley, not even a sign of hinges on the side. Aichlan leaned against the wall and collapsed, clutching his bleeding side, his wounds having reopened during the climb. Clarissa staggered over, embracing the dawn to seal the wound, looking as if she were going to collapse herself.
“Is this it then?” Aichlan finally asked, breaking the morbid silence.
“Aye, this is the top, the temple lay just beyond these doors.” Rowena reached out and touched the iron, snatching her hand back in pain.
“What is it?” Aichlan leapt to his feet, startling Clarissa and everyone else, expecting some new terror.
“It is made of old, deep iron, which is harmful to my kind.” She sucked on her singed fingers, pacing the cloister. “Yours as well.”
Defiantly, Aichlan touched the iron and quickly snatched his hand back as if he had stuck it in fire. “What the hell?”
“You don’t listen, do you?” Rowena chastised.
“The stone is of Dusk.” Eth spat at the doors, his saliva freezing upon contact. “Who the fook made this up eh?”
“Can we open it?” Maleah tapped the gate with her lance. “We must if Osric-”
An unseen force wracked her like a gust of wind, only her wards against the dark kept her from being cast across the room. Donough grabbed her, preventing her from being blown down the absurdly long staircase; though dazed, she was unharmed.
“What do ye know o’ this door Rowena?” Donough set Maleah down and slowly approached the gate. “It seems tae be aligned with the black magic.”
Rowena shrugged and wiped the sweat from her brow. “I just know it was meant to never be opened once sealed. I believe I mentioned this fact before we even entered the city.”
“Enough.” Aichlan halted the conversation before any further bickering could arise, everyone’s tensions ran high. “There is a way through, Osric is but a mortal man, if he passed then so shall we.”
“Step aside, this debate shall get us naewhere.” Eth unstrapped his sword, hefting it with anticipation.
Flames swirled around his feet and hands, combusting the air around him as he sent himself into a berserker trance. The group backed up to the stairwell as he lifted the flaming weapon over his head. He gritted his fangs as he lowered himself into a near crouching stance. With unforeseen speed, he leapt into the air riding a jet of fire. Eth crashed into the gate like a meteor strike, molten iron dripped as if rendered fat, a massive crack formed in the stone. Having depleted his strength, Eth fell back to the ground, smoking as the flames went out. Clarissa hiked up her dress and rushed to his side.
“Nae.” Eth held out his arm to a very surprised Clarissa.
“But Eth, I— “
“I will be fine, ye won’t however.”
Clarissa wiped the sweat from her forehead, briefly glowing as she embraced the dawn.
“You have been connected to the source for several hours now,” Aichlan placed his hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her back, “it is all that is keeping you alive at this point.”
Clarissa broke free of his grasp and connected to the light once more. “I know what I am doing.”
“Clarissa…”
“When you entrusted me with the mantle of cardinal,” Clarissa’s eyes were tired, but resolute, “do you remember what were your reasons Aichlan?”
“I do.”
“Dzen you ‘ave zee answer as to why I push myself to zee brink of being consumed by zee very light I serve, non? I haven’t any souhait de mort, I love myself and life far too much. But, I see no point if dzose I care about are not dzere to enjoy it with me.”
Aichlan shook the dirt and dust from his hair as he looked to Eth for support. “Casualty is a natural progression of war, you cannot—“
“But I can stop it! At least, at least I can try…”
“I’m nae dying ye bastard.” Eth planted his sword in the tile floor and pulled himself to his feet. “Just needed tae catch me breath is all.”
“How ‘bout ye all jus’ step back then?” Donough cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders as the rest of the group looked over. “Cannae believe a miner gets winded tryna crack a wee bit o’ stone.”
“Fook off.” Eth grumbled.
Donough summoned the very fires of Rhode into his hands. He let out a stream of elvish curses as he unleashed the fury of his ravaged homeland upon the cracked gateway, the most emotion any of them had seen from the largely stoic warrior. The doorways imploded with an explosion of debris and billowing smoke. When the dust and smoke settled, the cloister was flooded with light from the inner sanctum of the temple.
Aichlan coughed and dusted himself off, fanning the gritty smoke dust from his eyes with his hand. Eth retrieved his sword and charged into the room without waiting for the others’ senses to recover. Aichlan looked back to Donough, he was winded, but nodded he was alright. Aichlan swore as he rushed in after Eth, his ears still ringing from the explosion.
* * *
The temple layout was large and surprisingly open, with great stone columns much like those that would be found in Elysia. Osric stood before a large orb full of black violet smoke that swirled and crackled with electricity, like a gem set in the center of an ornate temple. The stolen phoenix egg was set atop a roaring fire at the foot of a great sculpture of four women. The temple was twice as large as the temple of Dawn in Nassica. Massive candles as tall as a man filled the vestibule and lined the walls, statues of human and elf alike were set in various alcoves.
Eth stopped and rested his sword on his shoulder as Aichlan caught up. Osric, though undoubtedly aware of their presence, did not turn to face, or make any moves of any kind. Aichlan gawked at the massive room, awestruck despite the situation. The fact that such a massive structure could have been built atop a tree was mind boggling, even if said tree was as tall as a mountain.
“I figured as much.” Osric slowly turned to face his guests, his demeanor cool and unconcerned. “You’re very stubborn.”
“I appreciate you having so much faith in me,” Aichlan drew his sword and slowly advanced, “but it ends here.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Osric frowned and held up his hand, halting Aichlan. “Why must you attempt to interfere with things that are far greater than yourself?”
“You’re a crazed madman who’s slaughtered thousands for your own selfishness.” Aichlan grunted as he strained against the invisible shackles. “You killed Renata. For that reason alone, you must die.”
The rest of the group filed into the room, and Osric released his spell. Grateful to be free again, Aichlan slowly wound his way back, not breaking eye contact with his foe. It would take a concentrated effort for them to even get within striking distance of him, and even then, Aichlan was not certain of their chances.
“If I recall, it was the elf woman you travel with that killed your priestess.” Osric shrugged with a defeated sigh. “Yet I won’t deny my culpability in her fate.”
“Why?” Maleah slowly stepped forward, trembling as she attempted to vainly dam the emotions welling up within. “Why have you done this? Destroyed our family, our home; and for what? Tell me you had a good reason for betraying us, for betraying me!”
“And if I were to, would it change the outcome?” Osric gestured to the six warriors assembled before him. “I fail, I am dead, I succeed, and I wish that I were. It does not matter why, only results.”
Osric singled out Aichlan, his golden eyes taking on a savage glint. “And you, do you not see the futility? How many have you allowed to die because of your blind pursuit of vengeance? How many have you dragged into this mess you have created? Puppet of the Eloi. Did you think I would not figure out your role in this Aichlan?”
Aichlan swallowed and retreated a step, uncertain if the finger pointed at him would shoot forth a fireball or something at any moment. More worrying was Osric’s knowledge of his situation, he had not even told his closest friends about what he saw when he was taken through the portal. A part of him still held to the delusion that it was a dream, or more aptly, a nightmare.
Osric shooed them as if they were children in the way. “Go, I gain nothing with further conflict, and none of you have any hope of defeating me.”
Maleah stepped from behind her brother, brushing aside her hair, revealing the scar she received from their last encounter. Osric lowered his head and quickly turned away.
“Please,” Osric’s expression softened, revealing a sincerity and boyish naiveté not typically associated with whom many assembled considered the embodiment of evil, “I implore you, leave and no further harm shall come to any of you.”
Aichlan gathered his courage, the words of his foe were tempting, but he knew the stakes would not allow it. “If you destroy the gods and let that beast go free, what the hell do you think will happen to us? To Silex?”
“I will return the rule of this mortal plane to the mortals, let our destiny be our own, for good or for ill. No longer will the child gods use us for their own amusement, dangling the carrot of reunification with lost loved ones or eternal bliss after a life of suffering before our noses.”
“Why are we standing here listenin’ tae his gasbaggin’?” Eth whispered.
Aichlan slowly shook his head and held out his arm to stay his second in command. “I still haven’t come up with a way to take him that won’t end with all of us getting killed in two seconds.”
“For too long has our world and our species been used as a veritable shield, a sacrifice that merrily reproduces itself to suffer a bitter fate ad nauseam at the hands of the Eloi!” Osric cut the air with his fist as his passion intensified. “And for what? We gain nothing but heartache and misery from this arrangement that was foisted upon us with neither our consent or knowledge! The gods must be killed and buried if we as a species are to ever move on from the petty squabbles and bullshit that constrains us. The literal chains can be severed, I stand ready to do that now,” Osric jabbed at his temple with his index finger, a manic glint in his golden eyes, “only then can the shackles of the mind be released.”
“You’re mad, brother,” Maleah drew her short sword and readied her lance, “even so, I shall forgive you; yield, so that you may atone for your crimes by my lance.”
Osric frowned, genuinely disappointed that his words did not get through. “They stole our mother from us Maleah, they gained nothing by consigning her soul to oblivion, yet they did it anyway.” He held out his arms, entreating her with tears in his eyes, “And you want to let them get away with that?”
Maleah screamed, an upwelling of hate and pain from the depths of her soul, the apogee of a lifetime of suffering and strife. For his part, her brother looked genuinely saddened by the turn of events; for a moment, it appeared like he would indeed yield, or at least flee. That sadness and confliction quickly gave way to a defiant glare, dark energy and an oppressive aura surrounded him as his righteous fury boiled over. Osric drew a violet rune, launching javelins of pure malevolent at the group. They all scattered like insects whose stone had been overturned, all save Maleah dove behind pillars for cover, cowering before the big bad they had long sought; all pretense of victory gone. Maleah, however, charged her brother like a mad bull, spinning her lance as she dodged another barrage of dark magic.
Osric uttered a growl that became a roar as he summoned a staff of gnarled ebony from the air and blocked a powerful strike. They fought as only siblings could, two souls who knew the other inside and out; each trick and dirty tactic, yet still they pulled out all the stops. Maleah screamed as Osric snatched out one of her dreaded locks, only to receive a boot to the groin in response. Despite being a skilled warrior, Maleah swung her lance around like a child with a stick; grace, tactic, technique, all had been abandoned. He punched her in the eye, she bit him on the hand. They spat and hissed and hurled insults at one another in their native tongue, childish barbs that had been bubbling within the other for years.
Aichlan and the others slowly peeked out from behind their cover, looking anxiously to the other for some sign of direction. Their foe appeared sufficiently distracted, engaging his sister in a brawl sans magic, they could have attacked him; they should have attacked, but for reasons few could comprehend, they did not. For the most part, they were all single children, something about this contest before them was oddly intimate, begging to be left alone to play out. The unspoken rule that outsiders should stay clear of familial disputes, it was almost sacred.
But it was not just a family affair, everyone present had lost loved ones to Osric, three had lost their homelands, seen their once proud nations brought down by his machinations. This maniac, this god-like man who had brought the world to the brink of destruction, threatened to wage war with heaven itself, was rolling around on the floor, wrestling with his sister. Each had a fistful of the others long, lavender hair. First, she was on top, pummeling him like a seasoned pugilist, then he was, hammering at her head and the tile with the finesse of a bullied child who finally snapped. The whole ordeal was patently absurd.
Rowena, finally having had enough, stormed forward and nocked an arrow. Her face was twisted into a mask of disgust and antipathy; hateful tears welled up in her bloodshot eyes as she took aim and fired. Osric held out his hand, halting the missile mid flight mere inches from his face, and incinerated it in black fire. Eth and Donough were already upon him, riding flumes of fire, they crisscrossed the other path and struck him from both sides. Osric, however, warped himself and his sister away before the crushing blows could land, and retaliated with another barrage of his weaponized scorn.
Aichlan stormed through the flames and the fury, leaping over the black javelins or batting them away with his shield. As Maleah began to stir, Osric lifted her with his magic and launched her into a pillar across the room; only for Aichlan to take her place. Osric raised his staff and shuddered under the impact of the blow as Aichlan pressed ever harder.
“I hope to challenge the current order.” Osric said breathlessly as he failed to deflect Aichlan deft and powerful strikes. “My motives are far too complex for a man blinded by faith to even possibly comprehend.”
“I needn’t comprehend anything;” Aichlan feinted with his sword and kicked Osric square in the gut, “only run this blade through your blackened heart.”
Osric stumbled back as he doubled over, his eyes seething with hatred. “The world shall be a better place without people like you in it.”
Osric shoved Aichlan back with an invisible force, and rapidly drew a violet rune that belched forth balls of black flames, each of which struck like a hammer.
“You fear me, for I seek to change what you have become comfortable with, despite that comfort being that which is detrimental.” Osric summoned a flaming skull, hurling it at Eth as he charged.
A red, rotating glyph appeared over Eth’s torso, which he tried to wipe away to no avail. The shriek of crows echoed throughout the temple, and a murder of the six-eyed, black-winged beasts swooped down from the rafters to attack him.
“Your irrational fear leads to anger,” Osric jerked his hand upwards, pulling a stone soldier from the ground to take the arrows Rowena had fired at him, “the natural progression of emotions associated with the overwhelming terror and hopelessness you all undoubtedly face. Anger gives direction to the emotional response that arises when faced with one’s mortality.”
Osric summoned several heavily armed and armored undead warriors to defend him as Maleah attempted to gore him from behind. He casually flung a red orb of a viscous blood like substance at Donough; it expanded into a gunky web, trapping him where he stood. Aichlan was engaged in mortal combat with the armored warriors, unable to break past them as Osric casually strolled about the temple.
“You are angry at being subjected to such a fate, even more so at the one subjecting you to such unpleasantries.” Osric paused two arrows mid-flight with a wave of his hand. “Your anger drives the fight aspect of the hormonal response, it gives one the strength to stand his ground, usually when the option of fleeing is not available.
“It is here, that anger becomes hatred. You begin to hate your tormentor, your antagonist for their role in your discomfort, for reminding you of how susceptible to death you truly are.”
Osric summoned a flaming wheel, sending it crashing into Maleah as she attempted to spear him again, from the side this time. Maleah became strapped onto the spokes by flaming leather straps as the wheel tore across the room.
“This hatred leads you to rash and stupid decisions as you seek to inflict comparable or greater pain onto your tormentor. This blind single mindedness inevitable leads to you suffering greater pains; both from the tormentor who is more powerful, and from the pursuit of vengeance.”
Osric caught the terrified stare of Clarissa, who had remained rooted in fear throughout.
Osric smiled genially. “A vicious cycle, wouldn’t you agree?”
Clarissa slowly backed away, but said nothing, could not say anything. Osric flicked his hair from his face as he made his way slowly back towards and altar.
“For hatred always leads to more suffering.” Osric continued grandly with his arms outstretched.