The Book of Deacon: Book 03 - The Battle of Verril (56 page)

Myranda's mind was boiling. In the crucible
that surrounded her, memories surged to the surface and burned away
again and again. She felt the sum total of her experience cycle
through her mind over and over, in ever smaller circles. Not just
her experiences, but others. Thoughts she'd never had rushed
through her mind, feelings she never would have imagined flitted in
and out of her soul. Every one of them dealt with the towers. The
power flowing through her, consuming her, had carried something
with it. It carried the residue of its purpose. The knowledge of
how to produce the towers drilled itself into her mind. Along side
it came the firm, irrevocable realization that there had never been
any intention to cast them away. All that could ever be done was to
summon more.

Her thoughts wrapped around this. That was
the answer. Her eyes turned to the final mark on each tower. It was
the activation rune Deacon had spoken of. Without it, there would
be no spell. She drew together the power that was destroying her,
forced it into the shape that resounded ever louder in her mind,
and directed it at the runes, projecting it toward all three
towers. The magic struck, weaving itself into a shape, then
suddenly attaining substance. When the spell had run its course the
embossed form of the rune was filled, erased. The spell was
incomplete.

There was a flicker and a shudder. The
streaming light pinched off and trailed away. Darkness replaced the
pale blue glow that had lit the valley. Now the only light came
from the edge of the black gateway and a point of failing glow that
dropped toward it. A pair of wings approached the dying light as
Myn, no longer facing a torrent of energy to hold her back, darted
toward the glowing form. Snatching it out of the air, she carried
the blue ember of energy toward the others. When the noble beast
reached them, it lowered the form reverently to the ground before
them. It was Myranda.

There was an intense aura about her that grew
weaker with each moment. She was not moving. She was not breathing.
Her eyes were unblinking featureless pools of light. In her hand
was the weapon crafted by Desmeres. Each of the three D'karon
crystals along its length had shattered and her fingers had sunk
deep into its surface, as though the staff had been soft as clay
for a time. Her body was whole, but broken. Bones were fractured.
Blood trickled from her mouth. The Chosen looked upon her solemnly.
Lain crouched beside her, putting his ear to her chest. He felt her
head, her abdomen. His eyes conveyed a grim message. Every part of
her was in ruins. For a moment, no hero spoke, their heads hung
low. When the distant crackle of the portal and the thinning rumble
of the flow of monsters was joined by a voice, it was Ivy.

“No,” she stated. “No . . . they . . . they
can't do this . . . They can't kill her . . . “

“I knew it would be one of us . . . I never
thought it would be her. Fate made . . . “ Ether began, for the
first time a gentleness to her tone.

“SHUT UP!” Ivy hissed, a flare of red
accompanying the cry. “If they are going to kill Myranda . . . then
. . . there is only one thing to do, isn't there? If death is all
that they understand then DEATH is what they shall get!”

Each word surged the red aura brighter. Anger
was succeeding where hate and fear had fallen short. The gems set
in each blade adopted her hue of fury, thin red lines tracing their
way along the wide blades in cruel crooked patterns.

“Ivy this can do no good. We have no way to
heal her. Whatever can be done has been done,” Lain said.

“No! You are WRONG!” she said with a smile of
madness. The blades split into three jagged blades. “I can make
sure they never do anything like this again. I can make sure that
NO ONE SURVIVES!”

With her final words, the anger finally took
hold. The blaze of red consumed her and she charged into the black
mass. Beasts large and small were reduced to ribbons by the vicious
serrated shape her blades had taken. As the rampaging form carved a
path through the thinning herd, Lain stood and placed a hand on
Myn's neck. The beast lowered her head, tears rolling from its
great eyes as the still form of Myranda cooled.

In the darkness someplace between this world
and the next, the defeated wizard's vision fell upon a new view.
They were familiar, almost comforting surroundings for Myranda.
Shifting, distorted shapes replacing land and sky. Bright, pure
lights marking the souls of the living. The astral plain faded
weakly in and out around her as the last lingering grip on her
shattered body gradually slipped away. She watched with relief as
the portal, in this place a colossal, churning mass of pure energy
and light, began to slowly draw together and close. The power that
had surged through her was wicking away. Oblivion awaited her, and
though she was sorry to leave the others behind, she was ready for
it. The ordeal had left her ruined. Spent. She was tired, and a
final sleep lay invitingly ahead of her. As she waited for whatever
was to come next, she became aware of a presence. It was a
blackness, without features, but in a shape the stung her mind. A
shape she'd seen twist the shadows of far too many.

“Epidime,” she said.

“You do fine work. Your world is now the
fourth to close the door, and the first to do it so quickly. It is
truly a shame to lose your world,” he said, borrowing her own voice
as he had in his earliest torments.

“You had no claim on this world. It was ours
and it will remain ours,” Myranda replied.

“Yes . . . for the next few minutes at
least,” Epidime remarked.

“What do you mean?” Myranda asked, concern in
her voice.

“I realize that memories of life tend to slip
quickly from your kind, but surely you recall all of the other
portals, and what happened when they were closed,” Epidime
scolded.

Myranda searched her thoughts. She didn't
have to search for long. The images of walls of raw energy flashing
forth in her mind.

“No . . . “ she said in horror.

“Yes. I had mentioned that the worlds that
closed their portals no longer existed. Obviously I've never seen
it, but the shock wave from a portal this size must be a true thing
of wonder,” the black form mocked.

With that, Epidime vanished. The tattered
remnants of Myranda pulled themselves together. Death could wait.
Slowly she clawed her way back to her body. Myranda's physical form
began to struggle. Myn's head shot up. The human made horrid
strangled sounds as she tried to draw breath into lungs that could
no longer hold it. The broken gems of her staff took on a glow as
her shattered mind gathered into a shaky focus. In fits and starts
the spells of healing began to flow, breaking through the agony and
feeding on the residue of power that lingered from the onslaught.
When air finally made its way into her half restored lungs, she
cried out, the words coming straight from her memory.

“Victory is a prelude . . . the . . . white
wall . . . “ she wheezed.

“I may have underestimated the human form,”
Ether marveled.

Myranda struggled to continue as her wounds
faded unsteadily away. “The shock wave! The burst of energy that
comes when the portals are closed!”

Ether's eyes turned to the portal. The
creatures had entirely stopped pouring out of it, and the still
raging form of Ivy had nearly cleared the valley, leaving behind
little more than twisted remains. The shape shifter's eyes looked
past what physical eyes could see. Her mystically attuned mind
judged the power of the failing portal, and sifted through what
she'd seen of the other portals. With an intuitive knowledge of
magic that Deacon could only dream of, she worked out in moments
the potential threat. The result was immediate, and unprecedented.
A look of total horror came to her face.

“We have to leave this place. Quickly.
QUICKLY!” Ether cried. There was fear in her voice. A creature who
had shown nothing short of cold, steady, unshakable confidence now
was trembling.

“There has to be a way to stop it. It . . . “
Myranda said, leaning on Myn's head to get to her feet as her
recovery began to slow.

“No! You don't understand! We can't stop it!
Nothing can! It will be the end of us, all of us! The end of
everything!” Ether cried. “Power like this . . . It will sweep the
world clean. So much raw, unshaped magic. What it leaves behind . .
. “ she cried. “There is no telling . . . just a terrible
randomness. Chaos incarnate!”

From within the valley there was a choked-off
cry of fury, as Ivy's strength finally failed her. Half dead
creatures that had been lucky enough to escape the bite of her
blades were slowly hobbling toward her motionless form. Without a
word Myranda climbed atop Myn and wiped away her wounds with more
of her borrowed energy. With that, Myn took eagerly to the sky once
more. As they turned to the task of rescuing their friend, Ether
turned her attentions to Lain.

“Lain, we must go. We MUST!” Ether
repeated.

Lain's voice was steady. “We will face it,
and if it can be stopped, it will be stopped.”

“How can you say that? I . . . I know you see
yourself as a mortal, and for mortals death is a certainty. When a
human dies it only loses a few years. You and I, we are losing
eternity. You've got to come with me! The blast will weaken with
distance. If we can get far enough away . . . I . . . I might be
able to protect us,” Ether pleaded.

In the distance, Myn swept down to the prone
form of Ivy, plucking her up. Myranda managed to pull the
unconscious creature to the dragon's back. Desmeres’ weapons chose
that moment to jolt her to wakefulness. Ivy roused from sleep with
a cry of pain. As her eyes focused on the rushing darkness below
her, it was followed by a scream of fear.

“Easy Ivy, it is alright. How did you wake so
. . . “ Myranda asked, she was interrupted by a squeal of
confusion.

“But you! You! YOU did it AGAIN! I thought
you were dead!” Ivy yelled, shoving Myranda in mock anger. “Stop
doing that!”

With that, the freshly awakened creature
threw her arms around Myranda. For a moment Myranda marveled and
admired Ivy's ability to so quickly accept the impossible events
that seemed to occur so frequently in her life.

“Ivy, something very dangerous is about to
happen, I am not sure . . . “ Myranda began again, only to again be
interrupted.

“Where is she going?” Ivy asked.

Ether had taken on her windy form and was
making her way south with a speed only fear could bring.

“Myn, get Lain and my father and follow her!”
Myranda cried.

The dragon dove, snatching up the stone form
as Lain leapt to a place on her back. The load was great, and Ether
was well ahead, but Myn didn't care. The blasted thing had been a
thorn in her side since they'd met. Ether never ceased to look down
on the others, to behave as though she were better than them all.
For Myranda's sake the dragon had let it pass, but now it was
different. Now was her chance to prove something to the shape
shifter. She wouldn't get away.

Myn flew like never before, the icy breeze
rushing over the heroes with gale force. Her mighty wings sliced
through the air faster and faster, then cut back and let the wind
rush over them. She skimmed in the mountain currents of air, taking
every ounce of speed from them that she could. Slowly, steadily,
the indistinct swirl of wind ahead drew closer. Below, the army of
otherworldly creatures was marching, beasts that had made it clear
of the valley before Ivy's rampage. Before long even the leading
edge of the mob of demons was behind them, and Ether just ahead.
Myranda called out to her.

“Ether! What are you doing?!” Myranda
cried.

“I must not be destroyed, Myranda. I WILL not
be destroyed!” Ether cried.

“You just have to face this danger. We have
to face it together!” Myranda urged, Myn managing to bring the two
heroes side by side finally.

“It is easy for you, human. Anything can take
your life. You face death every moment of every day! For me death
was an impossibility until now! I had no use for courage because
there was nothing for me to fear! How can I face this now?!” came
Ether's reply.

“You can face it because you must! You can
face it because this is your moment. The moment you were created
for! Every second for you, since the dawn of time, has been
counting down to this day! You can either rise to the occasion,
damn the consequences, and do what you were meant to do, or you can
run away and at best survive to live in an empty, ruined world for
an eternity that can never redeem you!” Myranda said.

Ether was silent, slowing her flight. She
considered the words. Deep inside of her, she felt something she'd
always believed had driven her, but until now she'd never truly
known. Duty. She looked upon the land with new eyes. When she
spoke, the fear was gone, but the tone that replaced it was not the
superior preen of old. It resonated with, for the first time,
sincerity and respect.

“Very well, human. Lead the way. I am not
certain we have a chance, but if I must die, let me die by my
brethren. Let me die doing what is right,” she said.

The Chosen backtracked to the level top of a
low mountain to make their stand, a wide expanse only a few
mountains removed from the valley. Ivy slipped from Myn's back and
wavered slightly. The repeated outbursts without real rest between
had wrung her spirit dry. She had the strength of body to stand,
but barely the strength of will. Lain was weary, but no ounce of it
showed on his face. Myranda, now devoid of the surge of power that
had briefly used her as a conduit, was fighting to undo the
ravaging effect it had had on her mind. Myn was breathing great
heaving breaths of the stinging cold air, taxed to the limit by the
chase. Ether merely stood, human once more, her eyes looking
expectantly to the north. Had it not been so far and so dark, she
might have seen one last form drop from the nearly closed
portal.