The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (33 page)

Amird’s wicked red eyes danced in delight as he read the boy’s mind. The blue wall of flame dimmed.

“Your grandfather, Macin of Zodra, is dead.”

The revelation stunned the boy. He shook his head to clear the thought.

“Corad Kingfisher is dead.”

The blue wall weakened. Kael flooded with anger and confusion. Why? Why all this pain?

Amird continued to assault the boy with the fire of Chaos, but slowly his massive hands drew his fiery blade over his head.

“Portlo of Astel is dead,” snarled Amird.

Kael blinked. Part of him screamed to banish the distractions from his mind, but another part needed answers. The wall became tattered and thin. Why? What was this all about?

Amird’s lips quivered in anticipation. The blade floated higher, poised above Kael’s head.

“Ader De Harstron is dead!”

The words rained like a blow upon the boy. His shoulders sagged. His heart grew heavy. The blue wall wavered. A menacing grin spread wide across Amird’s face. The Deceiver’s hands tightened on his blade.

“Why?” thought the boy, “Why would He let all this happen to those He created?”

“You know why,” firmly answered the Voice that came to Kael at the Mnim Pass. “Love. Without it, I would be just like him.”

Amird did not hear the Voice. The boy stood before him nearly vulnerable. The Deceiver needed one last push to send the new Seraph from this world and conquer it for Chaos.

“He lets all of his creations toil, suffer and die with no notion of it Himself. He goes on, entertained by your misfortunes. Even your brother Aemmon is ...”

The massive, fiery sword rushed down at the boy as Amird formed the word in his mouth.

“Alive!” shouted Kael along with the Voice in his head.

The shimmering blue Needle of Ader swept upward and slammed into the blade of Amird, sending the Deceiver reeling.

“And Ader De Hartstron is alive!” roared Kael as he hammered Amird’s weapon a second time, forcing the Deceiver back.

“Portlo of Astel?” barked Kael.

Amird stumbled and struggled to meet the boy’s onslaught.

“Alive! Corad Kingfisher? Alive!”

Amird fell to one knee. He held his blade upright in an attempt to shield himself and his other hand lay on the ground in support. Bolts of blue flame punished Amird, driving him even further toward the ground.

“My mother, Yanwin?” roared Kael, sweeping his blade across that of the Fallen Seraph. “ALIVE!”

With a mighty crash Amird’s fiery weapon leapt from his hands and spun through the air. Kael stepped forward and thrust the Needle of Ader beneath the chin of the heaving demon.

“They are ALL alive,” snarled Kael as he stood shaking in rage. “Because death has no hold over those who believe. Fear of death is the motivation of you and your kind. You can’t conceive of a shared glory with Avra. This world is all you know, so you cling to it, sucking all you can from its beauty and splendor.

If you only went to him when given the chance, you would know what true beauty is. Instead, you try to gather power on this world, contriving to mold it into your own twisted version of paradise. You are a fool, Amird.”

“It is over,” stated a deep Voice echoing over the battlefield.

Instantly, the remaining Memnod dissipated and vanished into nothingness. All eyes spun toward the source of the Voice near the gates of Delvi. Three figures stood silhouetted against its white walls. Two of the figures loomed large, as big as the largest of giants. One dressed in brilliant white and the other in a rough sewn garment of brown.

Bushy gray hair cascaded to the shoulders of the brown figure and tangled within a gray beard. The long flowing hair of the figure in white showed with the brilliance of the sun and made his features difficult to discern.

The third of the figures sat upon a little mule. He appeared to be no larger than a normal man and he too was robed and hooded in a brilliant white. The mule moved forward and halted within five yards of Kael. The man swung his legs over the animal’s back and dropped to the ground.

Kael smiled at the mule.

“Battle-Ax,” grinned the boy.

The rider reached up and dropped the hood from around his face.

“She carried me faithfully from the south,” smiled Aemmon. “Willingly this time.”

“She knew what her last task was all about, didn’t she?” asked Kael. “That was why she would never obey you. She refused to carry you to your death.”

Aemmon grinned.

“My Father infused all of His creatures with the most wondrous of abilities, Kael. This little mule could see things others could not.”

Aemmon leaned over and stroked the back of Battle-ax as he continued.

“In the end, that journey cost us both our lives on this world.”

The blade hovering beneath the chin of Amird hissed and popped with blue flame. Aemmon frowned and looked to the Fallen Seraph.

“There is no need for that now, Kael. Neither my Father nor I will allow him any power here.”

Kael nodded and immediately the Needle of Ader quieted and its flame sputtered and disappeared. The boy sheathed the blade.

Aemmon moved forward and stood over Amird.

“You know Me,” stated Aemmon.

Amird quivered in rage. His lips curled in hatred and anxiety. He glared and searched Aemmon’s features.

“YOU KNOW ME,” boomed Aemmon and his face flooded with light.

Amird’s eyes widened and he averted his gaze to the ground.

“I ... I know you,” snipped the Deceiver.

“You have seen what they can accomplish,” stated Aemmon, sweeping a hand across the human and Elf forces.

“I have seen,” mumbled Amird and he lowered his head even further.

“Even after all with which you challenged them. Even after all the pain and suffering you could muster against them. Even after all the hatred and hardship the centuries of your plague brought on this world, they persevered.”

Aemmon beamed with pride as His vision swept across His hosts. He turned back to the groveling form of Amird and leaned close.

“Free to choose and without my control or help and they are better than you, ...” whispered Aemmon with a grin.

Amird winced, shutting his eyes tightly as if the words stung him deeply.

“... but together, joined in a bond of common love,” said Aemmon with a soft, satisfied smile. “We are Perfection.”

The mass of Ulrog and human fighters parted. Through the crowd’s midst marched Nostr. One of the Delvin Prelate’s massive stone hands clutched the end of a granite cudgel. The other stone claw dug deeply into the neck of Sulgor, the first of the Chosen.

The Malveel king lay battered and nearly unconscious. The Ulrog effortlessly dragged the huge beast forward and dumped him at the feet of Aemmon. Nostr dropped to his knees.

“My Lord. You return. As I foretold, it is both glorious and terrible.”

“Rise up Nostr of Delvi,” commanded Aemmon. “You have done well in the work of my Father.”

Nostr rose, bowed his head but could not speak. Aemmon smiled broadly.

“You are troubled.”

“Yes.”

“You looked into your heart and perceived what resides in the hearts of many of your Ulrog brothers.”

“Yes.”

“You wanted to exact revenge upon him. You wanted to destroy him.”

“Yes.”

Aemmon laughed and looked to Sulgor.

“Do you see what you passed by, king of the Malveel?” said Aemmon. “Your own hands molded this Ulrog, yet he possesses the capacity for mercy, the gift of love.”

Sulgor’s eyes opened wider and he looked first at Aemmon then to Nostr. Aemmon continued.

“If this creature could find such things in a heart molded from stone, so could you. That is what frightened you so much on the day of Nostr’s creation. That is what set your need to destroy him.

He showed how ultimately my Father is the Creator of all things, even you. It mattered not that Amird brought you to life, for Amird received his life from my Father. All along, you looked into your heart and saw the potential for good there. It frightened you. You realized that if this potential existed, Avra must be the ultimate authority over all. Your master was a lie, a hollow sovereign. You knew it would end this way one day, but refused to acknowledge it.”

Aemmon turned to face Amird. The Deceiver withered as his power deserted him.

“You and your servants deserve one another,” said Aemmon. “I will give you a kingdom where you will rule for eternity.”

The Deceiver’s eyes flashed a glimmer of hope.

“Methra resides there now,” said Aemmon. “And those who refuse to believe, those who use terror and hatred to twist this world, those who choose not to accept my grace shall join you there.”

Horror struck Amird.

“No,” he demanded. “You cannot send me there. I refuse to ...”

“You refused my Father once long ago,” interrupted Aemmon. “Even after you committed the most heinous of sins. Even after your brother forgave you and begged you to join him, you refused. Your refusals fall on deaf ears.”

An unseen force ripped the Deceiver from the ground and spun him through the air. His body hurtled southward and all eyes watched as Amird cursed and struggled to break free. Aemmon looked out on the crowd.

“I see into the heart of every creature here,” announced Aemmon. “I see both the best and the worst of my Father’s creations.”

Aemmon strode out amongst the armies. The Hackles lowered their heads and stood still. The figure of Amird shrank to a speck above the southern horizon. Suddenly, the Eru Sea churned and a huge whirlpool swirled beneath the struggling form of Amird. The maelstrom spun so powerfully and rapidly, its center disappeared from view beneath the edge.  The water and foam swirling around the open hole glowed red and flame erupted and spewed from the center.

“Each and every one of you possessed the same knowledge as Sulgor. Avra gave you the ability to look into your hearts and choose. Regardless of your origins, each one of you held the capacity for love. Even now some of you silently ask for forgiveness.”

The stone men looked about at one another.

“And sadly, many of you do not.”

Instantly, Sulgor and a vast majority of the Ulrog snapped from the battlefield and hurtled toward the roaring maelstrom. Amird spewed filthy curses across the distance and plunged into the flaming hole. Sulgor and the Ulrog army followed closely behind. A moment later the waves crashed inward and the sea calmed.

Dozens of Ulrog remained from the thousands who marched on the city of Delvi. They stared about at one another as Aemmon waved them forward.

“You are the few who truly regret your actions and ask for forgiveness,” said Aemmon. “You are the few whose hearts were heavy.”

He turned to Nostr.

“You are done with your work, Eye of Avra.”

Nostr bowed deeply.

“I wonder if you might take on one more task.”

“Anything, my Lord,” rumbled the deep voice of the Prelate.

“Can you take these few and return to their homeland? Can you teach them? Can you instruct them in the ways of grace and kindness? Their hearts are open to change.”

“It would be my honor, Lord.”

Nostr turned and walked through the remaining Ulrog heading northward. As he went, those he passed lowered their heads to Aemmon then turned and followed the massive stone man. Within a few minutes the group transformed into a jumble of gray figures heading toward the frozen lands of Ulra.

Aemmon turned back and motioned Kael to follow him. The pair walked side by side toward the two large figures that remained near the walls of Delvi.

“You have done well, little brother,” smiled Aemmon.

“I did what I needed to do.”

“Others might not have performed so admirably,” smiled Aemmon.

“I wonder if even You could be surprised by Your own creations?” smiled Kael.

Aemmon smiled and paused. The pair walked in silence. Finally, Kael spoke up.

“Why all this death?”

“You might as easily ask ‘Why all this life?’.”

Kael stopped and stared at Aemmon. The figure in white smiled broadly.

“Well?” laughed Aemmon. “Why should my Father share His existence? Why give life?”

Kael was dumbstruck. He had no answer for the question.

“Love, Kael,” stated Aemmon. “Avra wished to share His love.”

“Only to have those you love die?” said Kael.

“You explained to Amird that death finds no hold on a believer,” said Aemmon.

“But why should anyone die at all? Why is there war and hatred?”

“Because you cannot share love with a being forcibly bound to you,” replied Aemmon. “Avra could have created people full of love for him and one another, a false love, which is no love at all. He gave all people freedom to choose to love Him or reject Him. This is the only way toward true love for it must be given not taken.

Freedom is a beautiful thing, Kael, but it sometimes leads to ugly consequences. A man decides to cheat a neighbor or harm a stranger. These are actions born of freedom. That man received the guidelines for love. They are ingrained within all of you because you were made in His image. However, He does not force you to follow those guidelines.

Much of the pain and struggle that exists here is the direct result of people’s failure to follow the law of love.”

“But what of other pain and suffering? What of the pain caused by natural death, disease, hunger?” asked Kael.

“Just as Avra could not subjugate you into the role of loving slave, he also could not raise you all to the role of powerful master.”

Kael once again stood speechless.

“Should your lives be one of no struggle, no worries? Should all wants, needs and desires be fulfilled upon any whim you conceive? If so, who should fulfill those whims for you? Should your Creator stand at the ready to indulge all you might dream? Should the master become the slave?”

“No,” said the boy.

“Of course not,” returned Aemmon. “He conceived this world as a place of challenge for each and every person. It is how we answer the challenge that matters.”

“But sometimes it seems so difficult, so hard,” said Kael dropping his eyes to the ground.