Chaos (34 page)

Whatever it cost him, he would give Sonnenstrahl back to Schatten. "Come on," he said softly, for some reason not comfortable speaking in a normal tone. David and Fritz seemed to share the impression, though, because they only nodded in reply. David took his hand again, and though Sasha knew he should keep both hands free in case they were attacked, the comfort offered by the touch eased the heartache caused by the sorrowful city.

They walked slowly through the streets, stopping frequently to look more closely at an empty inn, the houses, a theatre. Despite the sad quality to it all, to see a city frozen forever in time was fascinating. It was as though the sun rose one day and all the people were simply gone.  Food was laid out on tables, stalls were only partially set up in the market streets—it really was a city that had paused in the middle of its day.

As they looked closer, however, Sasha also saw the signs of violence:  broken windows, shattered furniture, even places where objects and buildings had been burned. Carts overturned, clothes hastily packed.

But there was not, in any of it, a single body.

"What happened to all the people, do you think?" David asked, sounding as though he knew and dreaded the answer.

The expression on Fritz's face confirmed their fears. "Slaughtered. Some fled, and they may have made it, but most died here to be reborn into the fates that Teufel had already written for them. All were driven out of Sonnenstrahl and since that day it has remained as you see it now."

"And Drache?"

"Somewhere," Fritz said, scowling. "He will not tell me where."

"I think the question now is:  what do we do?" Sasha said, reluctantly letting go of David's hand. "We're here—I'm here. Exactly as Teufel apparently wanted, though I cannot imagine why. One would think he'd simply want me dead. But whatever his purpose, where is he? We're here in Sonnenstrahl, we've been here and vulnerable, not to mention we were easy targets on the road here. So where is he and why has he not done anything to stop us? It would no doubt be childishly easy to get the better of us."

Fritz nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, I cannot say because Drache does not know. The splitting of our soul left him insensate for a long time. It was not until he heard his lost half for the first time that he came back to himself at all. That … is not something he's ever been able to tell me before."

"He must be close," Sasha said and turned to face the tower that was in the distance. Their explorations thus far had kept them close to the edge of the city, never wandering farther in than about halfway. "I would wager that both Drache and Teufel await us in the Citadel, which makes me loathe to go anywhere near it. If he wants us there, I know enough of gods to know there is an ominous reason behind it. I may have willingly walked up to his trap, but I will not walk into it that easily.

"It's late, anyway. Suppose we find somewhere in the city to rest for the night and stand watch in turns. Better to face whatever is to come well-rested."

"A good idea," Fritz said, "but I still wonder what is really afoot here. I think I would prefer simply to have done rather than spend a restless night waiting for a shadow to finally slit my throat." He gazed back at the Citadel. "I don't care what awaits us because Drache is waiting for me. I will go alone if I must, but I am going."

Sasha shook his head. "You will not go alone. I just wish we could go better prepared. We have come too far to die because of haste or carelessness. Venturing into the Citadel when the moon is high seems foolish. Teufel would surely be weaker by the light of day."

"That will make no real difference in the end. Teufel has full control of Schatten. If once he was weaker by day, that weakness has been reduced to a triviality."

"Any advantage at all helps," Sasha said. "I know you want to find Drache, but we will be safer going by the light of day—and after we have had food and rest. If Teufel wants us to come to him sooner, I have no doubt he will say. We pushed to get to the city before night fell. Here it has fallen and he has not so much as whispered. He can wait a few more hours."

Fritz heaved a sigh, but nodded. "As you say, then. I do not like it, but I am not certain I possess a clear head on the matter. Drache aside, though, I do not like lingering out here and keeping ourselves vulner …" He trailed off as the sounds of a tolling bell filled the air. As one they looked toward the Citadel.

At the very top of the tower, moonlight just barely gleamed off a silver bell swinging back and forth, counting out the hours in deep, melancholy tolls.  As it rang the twelfth hour and faded once more into silence, clouds filled the sky, drowning out the moon and stars, leaving them in a world of absolute dark.

The cool air turned frigid and the back of Sasha's neck prickled with sudden alarm. He drew his sword without thinking, and drew upon his magic.

Fritz beat him to casting, whispering,
"Light in the dark."

Brilliant white light burst into being above their heads, and Sasha cried out in dismay when he saw they were surrounded by … by … by he had absolutely no idea what. People, but not people.
Illusions
of people, gray and smoky and shimmering where the light hit them. Hundreds of them, of all sizes and ages, what seemed an entire city of people turned into misty imitations of themselves. "What in the name of scorching flames are those?"

"Ph-phantoms," Fritz said, voice trembling so hard Sasha was not certain he had heard correctly. Swallowing, Fritz said again, "They're phantoms. Souls trapped here and never allowed to be reborn. All those people living here that he slaughtered … they weren't reborn, they were turned into phantoms."

Tears fell down Sasha's cheeks as the words rolled over him. "That's cruel," he whispered. "Even worse than what he did to the priests. What did these people do so wrong that he thought he was justified in this?"

"Nothing," Fritz said, his voice just as thick with tears. "But we have to discuss it later because right now we have to go. If the legends are true, then phantoms seek the life energy of the living. They're mindless, mad with a lust for life. If they haven't attacked us yet it's because Teufel is holding them back."

David wiped at his own tears. "That's why he never reacted, why he just let us wander—he wanted us to see this."

"Let's move," Sasha said, keeping his sword out as he led the way along a narrow path that was the only part of the street—of the city—not clogged with the awful phantoms.

He was not surprised that the path took them through the city and straight to the center. It spilled out abruptly into a crescent shaped pavilion, the Citadel molded to follow the inside curve. It gleamed like moonlight though the sky above was still a perfect dark, and the stones of the pavilion itself shone like starlight.

On either side of the Citadel, enormous walls fanned out, images of the pantheon carved into them:  the Dragons of the Three Storms, wild and decadent in their sarongs and jewels; the Firebird, slight and mischievous, biting into an apple; the Basilisk, tall and somber, gleaming silver forming the bandages covering his deadly eyes; the Faerie Queen and Guardians, resplendent in their proud beauty. Along the top was Licht, a sun that cast gold and silver rays of light over all.

Something moved in the open doorway—a shadow, a taunt. Sasha hefted his sword, reaffirmed his grip on it, and led the way across the pavilion and up into the Citadel.

As he stepped inside, the Citadel seemed to shudder beneath his feet. It smelled of lavender and myrrh, sharp enough to make his head buzz and his eyes water. David and Fritz followed close behind, though they stayed far enough back not to impede him should he have to fight.

Candles flared to life with every step, guiding them through an antechamber and into a sanctuary that was three times the size of the Cathedral's. It was a beautiful room, filled with stained glass—and a ceiling of glass, Sasha realized. But of course, the god of light would want it to shine down in this holiest of places.

Movement caught his eye just as he heard Fritz and David cry out. He froze, nearly dropping his sword when he took in the figure that took up most of the space inside sanctuary. How in the Fires had he missed it?

The beast—the Sentinel—seemed twice the size of the Great Sentinels, though that could have simply been because it filled so much of the enormous sanctuary. Its horns were each nearly as large as a man, curving inward and then back out to end in sharp-looking points. Sasha caught a hint of wings, tightly folded upon its back. Its eyes, as they slowly opened, swirled with every imaginable color.

It moved again, and the scuff and rattle of metal drew Sasha's eye to the massive manacle and chain around its front right leg. The other end of the chain seemed attached to the Citadel itself. The enormous Sentinel could not break free without bringing the entire Citadel down upon itself.

"It's the Holy Sentinel," David said, sounding awed and terrified in equal measure, eyes going wide as the Sentinel slowly rose and gave a deep, mournful sounding cry.

"No," Fritz said, dropping to his knees beside them, sobbing. "It's Drache."

Beloved, I'm sorry. So very sorry. If I could have warned you I would have. For nine hundred years I have longed for and dreaded this day. My beloved other half …

Near-hysterical laughter mingled with Fritz's sobs.
You're the Holy Sentinel. Are we going to have to kill you as well? Grant you mercy as we did to the Great Sentinels? Why would he do this to you? To us? What went so wrong that Teufel would bring all this cruelty to people he was supposed to love?

Drache rumbled, the sound making the Citadel shiver, and bowed his head low. Fritz trembled at the size of him—and the size of his teeth, the longest of which was bigger than his own head.
Beloved …

Swallowing his fear, unable to resist that plaintive voice he could not live without, Fritz closed the distance between him and the poor, trapped Sentinel that was the other half of his soul. Drache huffed at him, breath strong enough to rustle Fritz's robes. Still Fritz kept walking, until finally he was able to reach out and gingerly placed his hands on Drache's enormous snout. Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks as warmth and joy and pain rushed through him. "Drache …" he choked out and buried his head in his arms on Drache's snout, torn between joy and pain, the agony of knowing that they were together but would always be apart.

There is yet hope. The child of chaos is here, is he not? And now that you are here with me, the spell of silence breaks and I can tell you all that I know.

Fritz swallowed his agony, forced himself to behave as High Seer, as Priest of Night and Day, and turned to face Sasha and David. "Meet Drache, my long lost other half. He says now that we are together the spell keeping him silent is broken. He can tell us all that he knows of what happened long ago."

"Where is Teufel?" Sasha asked. "He drove us here with the phantoms, so he must be close."

The phantoms always come out at the stroke of midnight and stay until the stroke of dawn. Of Teufel I have felt nothing. If he is here, he is masking his presence well.

"He says Teufel isn't here, or else he is masking his presence too well for Drache to sense him," Fritz said, grimacing.

Sasha sighed. "I like this situation less with every second that passes, but I guess there is nothing we can do about it." He sheathed his sword and gazed around the sanctuary. "This place is stunning."

"It's beautiful," David said. "I can't imagine how it must look in the daylight."

The most beautiful thing in the world, and when we sang the hymns, they could be heard throughout the city,
Drache said, and as he said, Fritz could remember it: people filling the sanctuary of the Citadel, voices rising, spilling out across the city where people would pause in their work and sing along until the hymns ended and the last strains faded away.

Sasha finally looked at them again. "You said you could now tell us all that you know about Licht and Teufel."

Drache stirred, rumbles shaking the Citadel, chain rattling, the sound echoing.
Fritz …

Yes,
Fritz said and placed both of us his hands on Drache's snout as he settled again. Closing his eyes, he poured his magic out, reaching out to Drache's. Tears stung his eyes again as the two halves of magic met, intertwined, and he felt just a hint of what it meant to be complete.

As they worked their magic, Drache's rainbow eyes began to glow brighter, the jewel-tone colors growing sharp and reflecting off the glass of the Citadel windows. Fritz drew a sharp breath as the magic took, poured through him, and then out in the shape of a shimmery, translucent image of the Drache who had always inhabited his mind—an image of the man they had once been before Teufel split Ehrlich's soul in half.

The wispy image bowed to them, seeming to flicker in and out like a candle. Fritz poured more magic into the spell, one hand still resting on Drache's snout, and the illusionary Drache seemed to stabilize.

"Welcome to the Citadel," Drache said, voice soft and whispery. "It has been too long since anyone but Teufel has entered this sacred place. I am limited in what I can do to help, but I will do my best."

"Tell us what happened," Sasha replied quietly. "Tell us why Licht tried to destroy the world."

Drache nodded. "It started small. Licht was always the most … reserved of the pantheon. The dragons loved to play, loved to be involved in everything. The gods have always ruled as equals, but if anyone was truly in command, it was the Dragons of the Three Storms. Chaos, after all, is the foundation. But they grew too close, too involved, Licht felt. He was always of the opinion that gods should hold themselves back, observe and guide from on high. The others sided with the Dragons, living close to their children, accessible and always participating. Little by little, that blinded them to problems …"

"I know a little of that," Sasha said. "Raz explained what the gods do know—that the dragon Raiden was willfully oblivious to the problems created by his lover, and all three dragons neglected the growing problems of their land. Raz grew bitter and cynical with the behavior of his children and turned from them until too late…"