Echoes of a Shattered Age (8 page)

Kim hopped to the right, then back to the left, confusing the slow-witted creature. Before it could make out his pattern, he feinted left, then went right, dealing a heavy slash on the monster’s left shoulder. When it reflexively turned away from the injury, opening its chest to the warrior, Kim stepped in and stabbed it in the chest. The brown warrior was on it in that instant, stabbing it in the side with his long spear-tipped staff, and then sweeping it from its feet. Kim spun and charged back at the fallen beast, leaping upon its hairy chest and driving his sword into its throat.

The other monster finally recovered and came stomping after Kim. It leaped into the air and was descending on him when the brown warrior came in beside him, impaled it on the blade of his staff, dropping it to the ground where it thrashed in a death frenzy.

* * *

Bleeding heavily from a gash in the middle of its chest, the hairy beast climbed slowly to its feet. Another had already fallen to Seung’s blade, and the third was in serious trouble as she backed it away from its comrade.

As she twisted and spun her mighty double-bladed weapon, she continually walked toward the beast, backing it away until it finally lunged at her in frustration. She brought the spinning shaft around and under her arm, stopping it mid-spin as she dropped to one knee. The lunging beast impaled itself in the abdomen, and she stood, pulling the blade free and spinning it low to sever the monster’s lower right leg at the knee. As soon as its back was on the ground, Seung brought the blade around and into its throat.

The last monster seemed to hesitate, and indeed it turned as if to flee back into the woods. The young warrior was on it before it had taken three strides. She leapt upon it and drove one of the blades of her weapon into the back of its neck. She hopped off of its back as it crashed to the ground and stalked away, leaving it lying on the ground quite dead.

She saw the newcomer crouching next to one of the hairy things, inspecting it. The other defenders were tending to their wounded and fallen comrades while Kim and another brown warrior, with the help of some of the other villagers, dragged the last two beasts out of the center of the village. They left the carcasses next to the others, where they would later be burned.

The defenders and the newcomers turned their attention to each other. Seung studied them. One was slightly darker than the other, with long black hair twisted together in a fashion similar to braids but thicker and smooth, and tied back from his face. He was actually only a bit taller than her, about five feet eight inches. The other warrior looked a shade or two lighter, but still considerably darker than her or any other native of her land. His hair was cut relatively short, only a bit longer at the front, and his build was more similar to Kim’s. The two brown warriors gave each other a knowing look and one of them, the lighter one, spoke slowly to them in the western tongue.

“We figured you could use a hand.”

***

Chapter Eleven

The valley of Takashaniel was one of rolling hills, fields of green and yellow grass, and surrounding green mountains that had never seen the footprint of humans. South of the center of this valley stood a tower with magnificence beyond the skill of mortal hands. Inside the tower, gazing at the fields beyond, was its guardian.

Iel scanned the forested mountains that stretched beyond the green and golden rolling hills. The fields of Takashaniel were places of refuge for goodness and purity, where the innocence of nature was cherished and nurtured. Takashaniel, the Tower of Balance, stood as a beacon of love and light created by the hands of humans filled with the loving power of the Gods who would see the balance of the world maintained.

“You thinking of the Drek,” a young woman’s voice said from behind. It wasn’t a question.

The guardian turned to look upon his student and closest friend. He’d lived on this world for more years than he could count, and had always looked upon humans with a kind appreciation for who and what they were. His human student had surprised him from an early age and had grown into the powerful and beautiful woman standing in front of him now.

“What?” Mira frowned playfully at him as she moved several strands of silky black hair from in front of her face. She stared at him with light brown, almond-shaped eyes. Her smooth, golden brown skin was both beautiful and an anomaly to the Ilanyan. Her full, round lips twitched as she regarded him. Iel felt a pang of guilt, for he knew the young woman would have had many suitors to choose from, had he not coaxed her into the life she now lead. “You’re not going to answer my question, Master Iel?”

Iel smiled. As always, Mira put on a mask of confidence to hide her anxiety. “Fear is the barrier between us and our potential, Mira. While danger is indeed a real thing, it is mostly fear that prevents us from exceeding our limitations. Remember that one must do what one fears, and that fear will disappear.”

Mira sighed. “But what good is not being fearful, if you face an enemy you cannot defeat?”

Iel nodded. It was a good question. “In some cases, even one who is very powerful may need to enlist the help of another in order to achieve a new goal or overcome a struggle. If that person was able to put personal pride and fear aside, this could help the person to achieve their goals. The Drek is one such individual. Although extremely powerful, he has seen the limitations of his plan if implemented alone. Enlisting the help of a powerful ally has greatly increased the likelihood for success.”

Mira looked at her teacher in disbelief. “Surely you don’t think that an alliance between a Drek and a Quentranzi demon would hold together longer than the time it would take for the thing to be released to this plane?” If Iel had eyebrows, the young student was sure he would be raising one of them at her.

“Don’t underestimate him, Mira,” Iel replied. “Better to err on the side of caution, especially in dealing with one as powerful as Brit.”

Mira could not deny her teacher’s wisdom. In her teacher’s library were fascinating texts that spoke of many different species, both kind and malicious. The Drek species was one of the latter, and unfortunately, one of them lived on this world.

One of the kinder races in the texts were her teacher’s species; the Ilanyans. Highly regarded among his people, Iel was a warrior-cleric from Ilanya, a world that her teacher had described from time to time when she pressed him, yet he never spoke of where the world existed. On his world, the Ilanyans possessed innate abilities such as telekinesis, and the manipulation of energy waves. Even among his people, Iel was considered powerful. Coupled with his wisdom and insight, Iel had made an attractive candidate to be an ambassador to this world. It had been their hope to prepare humans for the day when the two races would meet.

Iel had thought his task would be easier than he had anticipated, for the Age of Technology had already met its end, and humans had once again resorted to using the skills and intuitions this beautiful world had supplied them with. He had believed that a being from a different world would be intriguing, but not as much of a shock as it would have been in times earlier. It was five years after his arrival on Earth that the Ilanyan traveler met his future student and closest friend Mira, to whom he had spent the passing years teaching the ways of the Gods; the Daunyans.

Mira was born in a village on the smallest of the islands that were once known as Hawaii. After the End of Technology, the island had undergone many changes, and its inhabitants, having never completely abandoned the old ways, easily reverted back to the way things were done prior to “modern” times. Mira was born to a family of four living in a village along the coastline. While giving birth, her mother felt little pain in comparison with the average childbirth, and once born, the infant did not utter a sound. Initially, the family believed her to have been born mute, but after looking closer, they noticed that her little eyes were scanning her surroundings as if she fully comprehended everything she saw.

As each member of the family of now five looked at the new arrival, the child’s eyes fixed upon their own as if to return the greeting. As she grew older, Mira began to discover just how different she was. As a child, she’d found that she could manipulate things with her mind. As she grew older, her abilities sharpened as she learned control. By young adulthood, she was able to not only manipulate physical objects, but also alter them. Even in the difficult years of adolescence, her heart remained pure and good natured. Mira would never be found harming any form of life, whether large as an ox or small as an insect.

She’d first encountered Iel while tending her orchard. The disconcerting experience of a voice speaking into her mind told her that a friend would soon visit. Panicked but having no one to talk to about it—she’d learned quickly that others questioned her wits when she spoke of her experiences—Mira had tried to shut out the voice, and for a time, it ceased.

Once she’d begun to let her guard down, Mira started receiving visions. A being from a world very different from her own would find his way close to her homeland. He needed her help. The message had been filled with so much love that her fear evaporated, and she knew that the voices did not originate in her own mind, or from something that meant her harm. Amid tearful pleas to change her mind, Mira—who was now at the beginning of womanhood—said good-bye to her family and departed on her quest to meet the friend she had never seen.

Mira cherished the memory of their first meeting. The Ilanyan had encountered a beautiful short-tailed albatross, and was intrigued by the bird. As soon as she’d laid eyes upon him admiring the bird, she knew he was the one who’d spoken into her mind. She had contentedly watched as the bird, equally curious, watched the strange man. She’d never seen an albatross let anyone come so close before. Sensing her presence, the visitor turned and looked into her eyes and smiled. Thus was the friendship born.

Mira regarded her teacher and friend. He was a bit shorter than she, about halfway between five and six feet tall. His skin was a marble gray and black color that gave him a statue-like appearance, and he had kind, green eyes filled with the firmness of experience, but the softness of wisdom.

“Do you think they’ll be able to reach us?” Mira asked, a bit of concern in her voice.

“I do not doubt it,” Iel answered.

“That’s why you are calling to the Children of The Gene?” Mira moved to stand beside him, looking out at the surrounding hills. “Do you think they will be enough? So few to defend Takashaniel against a Drek, a major demon general, and most likely a hoard at its command.”

“That is not for us to know. The only future that is absolute is that when we leave these vessels we inhabit, we are rejoined with Daunyans, the loving Gods.”

Mira frowned. “Why would they allow this to happen if they love us so much?”

Iel placed a hand on her shoulder. “It is my goal to help you one day answer that question for yourself, Mira. Every living thing has been given amazing abilities. Some have realized their potential, some have not. Those who are unconscious to it have inadvertently created realities that are blissful, and some that are hellish.”

She looked at him. “So you’re saying humans created the Drek and the demons? Is that what you mean?”

“The Drek, no. He is a being that was created by the Gods just as you and I. His species largely turned from the light. Demons were not created by the Gods, but by thought energy.”

“Thought energy? How can something living be created by thoughts? That’s not possible, is it? I can’t understand that. I don’t know if I can believe such a concept.”

Iel smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Indeed.”

***

Chapter Twelve

The abyss was nowhere for Zreal to be. He had traveled through the dark plane before, but this was different. In times before, Zreal would pass through this realm using various gates that would make his travels much shorter and easier. Although traveling through the hells was dangerous for a human, Zreal was far less fragile. As long as he moved quickly without attracting any undesired attention, he could pass through this horrible place without incident.

This time, however, the Zetsuan was given the unfavorable task of traveling to the abyss not as a shortcut, but to seek out the most powerful of the Quentranzi. A demon known as Grala was the leader of the powerful fiends and resided within the deeper levels of the lowest pits of the dark world. The fifth hell.

Zreal had seen the thing from the comfortable safety of Brit’s scrying mirror, and even then, the mere presence of the thing sent waves of fear coursing through him. He had no desire to personally encounter such a magnificent and terrible power. But then, to refuse Brit would mean a similarly terrible fate, if only a bit less creative. Zreal had no choice but to obey his master, but Brit was not totally without mercy.

He’d equipped his underling with a clever device called a teleportation orb. This orb was useless in the higher planes, but when traveling to the dark realms, the wielder could use the magic from this orb to teleport back to the world of light. The only drawback was that the user must be strong, as the orb siphoned its wielder’s energy.

Zreal would have to be especially careful not to anger the fiend or be injured in any way. What worried him more than this was the fact that a demon, even of the lower class, didn’t need anger as an excuse to torture anyone or anything in its path. Zreal was not a human, but he was not a resident of the dark realm either.

As he descended lower and lower into the abyss, cold, heavy mists drifted about like roaming ghosts. There was no darkness on the earth plane equal to that of the abysmal realm, which is why the denizens of the lower plane referred to all others as light dwellers.

Zreal shifted his vision, his eyes dilating and becoming as black as two onyx orbs. Now more comfortable, he moved on. Savage and horrifying sounds came from every direction, and it was all Zreal could do to block it out while keeping a wary eye on the creatures around him.

Dark forms hovered and darted from place to place, while stronger fiends devoured lesser creatures. The hissing and tittering of unseen furies drifted to his ears and Zreal was quick to find a hiding place. If humans knew how real some of their myths were.…

He remained concealed behind an outcropping as the pack of cat-like horrors scurried across the distance, followed by a group of hulking creatures that regarded him with too much interest. He forced both of his hearts to slow their rapid beating while cursing himself for his lack of caution. The body of any living being not from the abyss radiated light like a beacon. If he wasn’t careful, he would find a grotesque death here. He concentrated on his body, cooling his temperature to radiate less warmth, and subsequently less light. Satisfied, he continued.

His descent stretched from minutes to what seemed like hours till he came upon a chasm that descended into thick blackness. With a sigh, he extended all four of his dragonfly-like wings and leapt into the pit, and toward Grala’s lair. An ear-splitting screech spun Zreal around just in time to avoid a slash at his back by yet another resident horror. A Bachattta.

The creature looked somewhat like a twisted combination between a mosquito and a hellhound. Its foul, leathery skin was as black as coal, with wings protruding from its narrow back. Zreal was not fooled by the way its arms and legs hung limply as it flew. Its hound-like head was long and narrow, with a deep maw designed for gripping and tearing. The bat-winged creature descended upon its intended prey with hunger in its black eyes. Bachatttas could be dangerous in groups, but a single one was no match for the zetsuan. Zreal smothered his fear and batted the wicked thing aside with a right-handed swipe.

The creature tumbled head over heels through the air, and Zreal flew after it. They crashed into the wall of the chasm in an explosion of rock that tumbled into the darkness below. Zreal tore the wings from the screaming bachattta and hopped away from the wall, his four wings beating to keep him hovering in place. Assuring himself that there was no more threat, he discarded the ruined wings and continued his descent. Glowing eyes watched him from every direction as he glided ever downward, but the savageness with which he’d dealt with the bachattta afforded him some measure of respect.

Not taking any chances, however, Zreal increased his speed. He weaved his way around the many Bachatttas and other creatures of the darkness until he finally came to the floor of the chasm. Fourteen stalagmites stood as tall as the remaining skyscrapers of the human cities.

Foreseeing the possibility of Brit ordering his journey into the abyss, Zreal had taken it upon himself to study their demonic allies. There was a tome in the Drek’s vast library named
The Chronicles of the Order of Nyrr
. Within the pages of the book, there was a detailed account of a conflict involving the lord of the Quentranzi. Grala had been narrowly defeated in a battle against another major demon and was forced to find another place to dwell. In a fit of rage, Grala had leaped into a large pit that descended to an unknown depth. The Quentranzi hit the ground with such force that it sent shockwaves throughout the dark plane and actually pushed the platform down to an even greater depth. The end result was this throne room and the fourteen huge stalagmites that had punched through the ground. Zreal didn’t know which was worse, the thought of a raging Grala, or that there could be another fiend more powerful than the Quentranzi lord. Zreal had an overhead view of the throne room, but as he neared, the stalagmites began to grow and curve inward, forming a dome that blocked his entrance. Zreal altered his course and landed at the base of the stalagmite dome and a safe distance from its keeper. The zetsuan stalked up to the impressively large creature that barred his entrance. Zreal first took it to be some sort of twisted hydra, but the thing had four legs and the faces of each of its ten heads had sharp teeth and eyes and looked grotesquely human. Zreal stopped before the twisted horror and declared his business.

“I wish to meet with the mighty Grala.”

One of the ugly heads lowered in front of him and he could smell its hot foul breath as it breathed in his scent. “Are you afraid, mortal creature?” Its gurgling voice sent shudders through his body. “The deeper the fear, the sweeter the meat—”

Zreal whipped out a hand and sank his claws into its scaled neck. “You might make a meal of me, but you will have just enough time to enjoy my taste before you drown in your own blood.” Zreal’s raspy voice was unwavering. “You will grant me entrance now, or we will discover how quickly I can rip out every one of your throats.” He yanked his claws loose in a spray of blood.

The hydra recoiled and hissed at him, the injured head moving away to hide behind the others. Zreal knew his threat had been taken to heart, and so he waited. He didn’t have to wait long, for the Hydra backed away and let out a gurgling low-pitched growl as it shifted its bulk aside.

Taking a deep breath, Zreal stepped past the Hydra, not bothering to look at the monster as he turned his back on it. Confidence.

Once inside the throne room, he looked around to see wicked and twisted depictions of suffering and agony beyond anything his imagination could conjure. The glowing black floor was decorated with carvings of symbols and etchings that emitted evil so strong it was almost overwhelming. Even the stalagmites had been carved with such horrific detail, it could be achieved only by overworked slaves.

As Zreal neared the center, he saw what looked like the images of souls that had been carved into the slate of floor that stretched the length of the room to the steps of a disturbingly large throne. As Zreal looked closer, he realized to his horror that they were not designs at all, but actual souls that had been captured and imprisoned within the floor to forever squirm in their rocky, living tomb. Zreal shuddered. This was no more than decoration for the twisted pleasure of the lord of the Quentranzi.

“Do you like my arrangement?” thundered a voice that echoed from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Shockwaves rippled through Zreal’s body. He turned this way and that, but there was no sign of the speaker. He turned back to the empty throne again to the sound of a deep, mocking chuckle, and his mouth dropped open. His black eyes opened wide and he staggered back at the sight of the fearsome twenty-five-foot-tall monstrosity that sat before him on a living demon throne.

***