The Undying God (11 page)

Nishka followed the street until she
found what appeared to be an inn. The meager establishment reminded
her of the village of Riverwell. Suddenly, she glimpsed something
in the city square that took her breath away.

“Arxu, look!” Mistaking her tone for
alarm, Arxu gyrated toward the plaza. He beheld a black pyramid
gilded in sigils, weighing thousands of tons. Even as Arxu pondered
why it had been assembled, the adorning sigils began to glisten
like embers. Nishka’s eyes dilated with wonder as the entire
structure glowed from within.

Flames spat and erupted from inside the
pyramid, billowing like a funeral pyre in the dead of night. Arxu
realized the magnificent structure was transparent. A mechanism
installed beneath the ancient streets illuminated the
structure.

“It is believed to ward off malignant
spirits at night,” Nishka explained. “It is a ritual that has
endured for centuries.” For the first time, Arxu noticed small
channels in the streets. Orange light flowed like streams from the
base of the pyramid, sweeping through the streets in a lush
tide.

“This is amazing,” Nishka
whispered.

Arteries of light pulsed through the
city, each capillary inextricably tied to the pyramid in the
center. Every district surged to life as if reignited by the city
core—like a universe being born again.

A dome resided in the distance,
gleaming impeccably like lapis lazuli in twilight. High-reliefs of
robed characters embellished the base of the structure. The dome
itself was adorned with peculiar spikes that may as well have been
welded pristinely from blue glass. However, its most eye-catching
feature was two towers with spiral formations, tapering to
leaf-shaped crowns that glowed like crystals.

“What is that?”

“The royal library,” Nishka replied.
“Azia-Nocti’s library is hailed as one of the wonders of the world,
containing several lifetimes of knowledge. I’ve always wanted to
see what it looks like inside. Perhaps you could learn something
there about Nightwalkers.”

Arxu looked skeptically at the towers,
intrigued by the reputation of this hallowed library. No doubt he
would like to learn more about the Nightwalkers.

Nishka certainly knew how to pull his
strings.

Nearby, four men wandered among the
populace, remaining close to each other. Unknown to the citizens,
their motives for wandering the city were anything.

On behalf of the arena, they searched
Azia-Nocti for humans to participate in the amphitheater games. In
fact, their methods for acquiring participants often entailed
stalking and abduction. They had been carefully trained by their
master to find only the most challenging fighters—or more
appropriately, fodder.

The arena was a flourishing business
and it could not prosper without “replacements.” Nearly a quarter
of the city’s population was attracted to the games. No one could
avoid spending a day at the arena to view the ongoing spectacles.
These men were responsible for ensuring it stayed that way. As long
as the city coveted violence, the profit would never
end.

One of the men halted in his tracks
upon seeing a darkling walking freely in the streets.

“What? Did one of the darklings
escape?”

They continued to observe the odd
creature cloaked in rags and a conical hat. Its large, rounded eyes
looked every which way across the plaza. The darkling seemed
particularly interested in watching the people passing by. It
smiled nefariously and spoke to a young woman with blonde hair. It
was impossible to tell whether the darkling was armed or
not.

One of the abductors noticed the woman
walk away uncomfortably from the creature. She looked disgusted at
whatever it had uttered.

“No, this one is different.”

“It would make a valuable asset to our
quarry,” the hunter said, echoing what his partner was surely
thinking. He didn’t approach the darkling; instead, he would return
to the arena and relay this information up through the chain of
command. But he had no doubt in his mind that the battlemaster
would endorse abducting this peculiar specimen.

* * *

Azia-Nocti looked like a world lost in
the space of time; a flamboyant metropolis by day and an occult
underworld of political intrigue by night.

A silhouette walked across a courtyard
aglow like a valley of lava. He didn’t particularly want to be seen
as he approached the archives. Distant nebulae were scattered in
the sky above, composing an eerie image with the city below. It
would seem Azia-Nocti had reverted to a netherworld, somewhere far
from Eyegad.

Far from the earth.

Bas-reliefs of planets and forests
adorned the door which he pried open. Arxu stepped lightly through
the imperial library, feeling small and insignificant below the
archaic dome. Intricate mosaics inlaid with blue, purple, and
orange contoured slickly to the darkness. Furthermore, strange
verses in Eyegadi were etched into the walls, precise characters
carved in gold.

The foreign man walked past towering
shelves host to books of every kind; tomes, charters, bestiaries,
and most of all, literature discovered beneath Azia-Nocti. Several
scrolls provided a glimpse into the former empire, but not every
passage could be translated.

He noticed a book lying dejected on the
floor and he suspected he was not alone. He fragilely lifted the
book and examined its corroded pages; it described the lineage of a
common family from Sepulzer, tracing the ancestry of a woman. Arxu
regarded the shelf to which the book belonged and scanned the
various articles assembled. He wondered if it was possible he could
locate a member of his bloodline. Perhaps someone could tell him
where he came from, who he was.

Arxu vigilantly looked around the
library to make sure no one was watching. He removed a single hair
from his head, the blue strand twining around his fingers like
silk. He produced a quartz crystal that dangled precariously from a
silver chain, and with nimble fingers, he wrapped the blue hair
around the crystal. Arxu closed his eyes and gradually cleared his
mind.

A few seconds passed by. An invisible
force tugged at the stone, gently at first, slowly building in
momentum. The crystal began to sway back and forth like a pendulum.
Arxu felt it pulling him toward the north, and he obeyed without
question. He scanned the dome overhead as he walked through an
octagonal chamber; the dome resembled an infinite sky of violet
glass limned with moonlight.

To his left, statues of scholars and
scientists stood watch over the sacred institution.

Obviously, there was something within
the library that triggered the pendulum. Sometimes he could see
fingerprints outlined in the dust, betraying recent
visitors.

The pendulum jerked sharply and Arxu
paused at a dead end. Melted wax limned the shelves, once proud
candles that illuminated this dreary corner.

He held the pendulum before him, and it
seemed to indicate a book. He tucked the magickal device away and
suspiciously eyed the tome on the shelf. It looked no different
from any other book, perhaps a bit older and worn. However, it
seemed more distinct than any other article around him, as if a
sense beyond sight, hearing, or smell enabled him to perceive it
differently. Yes, there was something unique
—
or
wrong—
about this book.

Arxu reached for the tome jutting from
the shelf, prying it out of the wax. It snapped angrily as it
jerked free, as though it did not wish to be removed from its home.
Arxu recognized several glyphs and magick seals on the leather
cover. Many of the pages were stuck together so he opened to the
first solitary page.

The passage he stumbled upon assaulted
his attention.

The Nightwalkers were first
encountered circa 1463. They are often characterized as hags or
strange men who wander the forests at night. Others have described
Nightwalkers as feral children robbed of their ability to reason,
adapted to the wilderness like animals.

The very nature of
Nightwalkers has been distorted for decades. The truth behind
Nightwalkers is far less sinister than many village anecdotes, but
the truth is perhaps more disturbing.

The eerie discovery didn’t excite Arxu,
but it surely would have if he could feel. Perhaps he would soon
add another piece to this puzzle and recover his
identity.

Nightwalkers are a fringe
of human society, a clandestine order of men and women who gather
in the forests at night. Their nocturnal cult considers the moon
sacred, the source from which they derive their power. The moon
charges their magickal components; stones, rods, and metals. An
experienced Nightwalker can imbue stones with his or her
essence.

He skipped ahead, quite aware of the
general definition of a Nightwalker. As the passage began to delve
into the mental effects of magick, he found himself caught up in
the words again.

Their minds can be warped
by the magick they possess, rendering the mind feeble and weak.
Magick is said to addle the brain so profoundly that Nightwalkers
are more susceptible to psychiatric disorders such as dementia or
psychopathy. A growing number of mages have been confined to
lunatic asylums where they are closely monitored.

Reportedly, scientific
studies have been conducted to “remedy” the patients. Procedures
designed to deprive a man or woman of magick have proven widely
unsuccessful because no one can pinpoint the source of magick.
However, all studies indicate that magick damages the brain of the
host, much like a parasite. Crime has become increasingly prevalent
in their kind.

Arxu’s eyes continued to scan the text,
hungrily devouring the pages. One word flickered before him that
sent him clawing through the book for answers.

Excommunication.

The word leaped off the page, striking
a cord in him as forcefully as if he walked into a wall.

The ritual of
excommunication is performed in the presence of Umbra, the matron
of the Nightwalkers. The exile is subdued with a combination of
opium and mandrake to reduce pain.

The mention of drugs brought a flicker
of attention to Arxu. He vaguely remembered the smell of opium, but
he couldn’t recall where. Furthermore, he wondered what “pain”
exiles were subjected to. He turned the page.

Only the most scorned and
criminal exiles are summoned to the lunar sanctuary to be
“branded.” The individual’s hair is dyed with blue indigo, and
their skin is imbued with a similar pigment.

Arxu reached for his sleeve and slowly
pulled it past his elbow. His white skin gleamed in the faint
light, exposing the markings that snaked like tendrils across his
arm. He tenderly touched the discolored skin as if he expected it
to hurt. He lowered his gaze to the page once more.

A Nightwalker is subject to exile
for—
the book slipped from Arxu’s fingers. The ancient tome
slammed against the ebony tiles, dozens of pages exploding from its
weak frame, spilling over Arxu’s feet. He gawked at the empty space
with a dreamy expression. He stepped away from the book as though
it would rise up and assault him.

—for murder, torture, or
rape.

He swept away. He couldn’t tell Nishka
about this.

No one could know the secret of his
past life. Perhaps authorities were searching for him to render
punishment for a heinous crime he couldn’t remember committing.
What kind of man was he before he died?

As he stole out of the library and
walked through the flaming courtyard, he wondered which crime
stained him.

Chapter 12

The night was dimly lit in the arena as
great braziers glowed above. Enormous tiers towered within the
amphitheater, devoid of audience.

Rafael, an elite ambassador, followed
his escort toward the center of the arena. His personal bodyguards,
two armed men recently discharged from the military, accompanied
him. Clad in scarlet robes and silver rings, Rafael looked out of
his element in the sand-blasted arena. Only the most abominable
creatures or criminals drudged through these sands before they
inevitably died.

He had never attended the amphitheater
games. He felt that the spectacles here reminded him too much of
his childhood home. Rafael smelled something pungent near him, and
he stepped over a body in the sand. Disgusted, he tried to block
out the stench and focus on the task at hand.

A hooded figure adorned in a cloak
stood in the sands of the amphitheater, patiently awaiting. He was
said to be the battlemaster of the arena. His prowess was often
discussed with great praise by soldiers and commoners, reputed to
be one of the most skilled combatants in Azia-Nocti. This was
Rafael’s first contact with the man behind the project he had
commissioned, an attempt to revive technology scavenged from the
extinct empire.

Several months ago, Rafael had
discovered stone tablets beneath the city that detailed an immense
construct, a weapon that he believed could aid the city—or his own
agenda. He had waited much too long for this opportunity. He
dispatched a messenger to the arena nearly every day to receive
word of the construct’s status. He understood that a project this
immense required time, but his patience was wearing
thin.