The Reborn King (Book Six) (35 page)

Aremiel locked eyes with him. When they were young, Laraad would have quickly looked away. But this was not the same cruel boy he had known in Valshara.

“Give me what I came for,” he commanded sternly.

“This will only end in your doom.” Laraad removed a gold ring from his index finger and held it up. It was set with an oval jade bearing the engraved symbol of Amon Dähl. “And I fear that many others will share your fate.”

Aremiel snatched it from his grasp. “I will create my own fate. And when it is over, you shall see that I am right. The world will be free.”

Laraad laughed with woeful eyes. “Men like me will not survive to see what you have done to the world.”

Rising to his feet, Aremiel placed the ring on a nearby table and drew his dagger. With a grunt, he smashed the pommel end of the weapon into the green stone. The jade shattered, revealing a tightly folded piece of parchment. With the utmost care, he opened it and read. A tiny smile crept up from the corners of his mouth.

“Do you have what you came for?” Laraad asked solemnly.

“Yes,” he replied. “I do indeed.”

* * * * *

The High Lady of Valshara inched her way along the passage toward her door, the young cleric on her arm a constant reminder of her increasing age and infirmity. No longer could she walk the halls of the temple whenever she felt restless. Most of her time was now spent in her chambers. In fact, the vast majority of Amon Dahl’s business was now conducted from there. 

On reaching the door, she patted the young girl on the hand and dismissed her. She was not so feeble that she couldn’t dress for bed unaided – though that time must fast be approaching.

The first thing she did after entering the room was to glance at her desk. She let out a sigh of relief. No letters. Every day she feared receiving word of more deaths at the hands of her son. Her dear boy. Where had she gone wrong?

The day she denounced him was long ago, yet it was still fresh in her memory.
The one thing that is not failing me is the one thing that causes me the most pain
, she thought. Slowly, she rounded her desk and eased herself into the chair.

“Hello, mother.” The voice seemed to come from the dark corner across the room.

She froze, at first thinking she had imagined it. Then, from the shadow, her son stepped out.

“Aremiel.” Her voice was barely audible. “How...?”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I killed no one in coming here. But you will want to have someone check the ramparts after I leave so they can untie the sentinels.”

“Why are you here?” she asked. Her eyes were already welling with tears.

“I am here to tell you that it is over,” he replied. “I know where the
sword
is. And when I leave here, I will have it.”

Anguish instantly clouded her face. “I will only say this once, though I know you will not listen. The Sword of Truth was never meant to be wielded by mortal hands. If you take it, it will destroy you. Please, son. Has there not been enough death? You have made war on the Order, the temples…and me…until your heart has completely turned away from the light. Come back to me. I’m begging you.”

“There is nothing to come back to,” he said. “Amon Dähl is nothing to me now.”

“Am I?” she asked. “Am I nothing?”

He gazed at his mother, trying to see her as he once had. But the woman he knew then was long gone. He understood this now. And in that moment, he knew that coming to see her had been a mistake. It would only serve to cause her more pain. And in spite of his anger, he did not want that.

“You are my mother,” he replied. “And regardless of what you might think, I do love you.”

“I know you do, son. And no matter what you have done…or will do...I love you too.”

Aremiel moved closer to kiss her on the cheek. She took his hand, squeezing it desperately. For a brief moment he was the child she had brought to the temple so many years ago. But then he pulled away and without looking back, left the room.

For more than an hour she sat there in silence, tears soaking her face. Finally, she reached into her drawer and removed a small, silver-handled dagger.

“It has been long enough,” she whispered.

The pain was insignificant. She knew how and where to place the blade. Soon her eyelids grew heavy as more blood spilled onto the floor. And as she faded, a vision of her precious boy entered her mind. His smile was bright and warm, and his love unquestioning and complete.

She smiled back and her spirit reached out to him. 

Still together, they passed into memory.

* * * * *

As he neared the location of the
sword
, his thoughts turned to Orias. Would he be there? Of course he would be. He was the
guardian
. Yet still there was a part of him that longed for his old friend to have abandoned his duty, so making the inevitable confrontation unnecessary. But this was a futile hope. Orias was still blinded by his faith and a slave to the will of the gods. And now fate was upon them both. A final death to cause…and his ultimate sin to commit. He pressed on.

It was all the Dark Knight could do to keep his teeth from chattering. The chill mountain air was thick with a dense fog that soaked into his skin, making every movement of the wind feel like torture. The only sounds were the crunch and clatter of his horse’s hooves and his own labored breathing.

He could feel that he was drawing near to his destination, yet could see nothing but dull gray fog and the gnarled, vicious shadows of long dead trees....

Gewey rose from the slithas and landed gently on the sandstone terrace that surrounded the vortex. He stared into its depths for a moment, marveling at the sight. As the rushing sand flowed down it changed from the light beige color typical of the desert into a luminescent blue, then vanished completely into a well of nothingness. The
flow
was so strong here that it took his breath away. It was several seconds before he was able to adjust and focus his vision.

The surrounding area was broad and smooth. Shadows danced and flickered from multiple directions, yet the only light here was emanating from the vortex itself. His memory, or rather, the memory of Gerath, told him that this was where all life had first spawned.  At least, that was what the gods believed. He was still shocked at how, in spite of their vast knowledge, there were still numerous mysteries that remained elusive to them. In many ways they were no different from humans or elves. Both were limited in their wisdom, and both continuously sought the meaning to their existence.

But this was not the time for such contemplations. He took a deep cleansing breath and stretched out with his spirit. In an instant he knew that his foe was near. Gewey smiled and centered his mind on what his human eyes were unable to see.

Then he saw him. The Dark Knight. He was sitting on a large earthen chair he had created with the
flow
. His form was that of a man. He was broad in the shoulder - nearly as broad as Gewey himself - and even through the gleaming black armor, the sinews of his powerful arms and legs were obvious. His dark curls fell down his neck, pulled away from his face by a thin golden crown resting upon his brow.

But it was his face that was startling. His penetrating brown eyes, square jaw and handsome nose would have made most women swoon. But his flesh…if that’s what it could be called, had all the appearance of polished marble. Pitch-black, and veined with thin crimson lines, it was like looking at a superbly crafted statue of an ancient warrior. Only the fact that his eyes blinked
occasionally indicated that he was indeed alive and not made of stone.

“Does my appearance bother you?” he asked. His voice boomed and echoed with unrelenting power. A mortal man would have fallen to his knees in terror, but Gewey easily dismissed the display. “I’m afraid that the sword’s power has had some unanticipated effects.” He held out his hand and the Sword of Truth immediately appeared there. The ghostly light from its blade spilled down and drenched the floor with its energy.

Gewey used the
flow
to create another chair facing his enemy. His eyes never left him as he sat down. Then he noticed the body of a woman on the ground behind the Dark Knight.

“Was the death you’ve already caused not enough for you, Aremiel?” he asked.

The Dark Knight smiled, his white teeth giving his already unworldly appearance an even more startling quality. “You know my name?”

“Of course I do. The power you used to erase it from memory no longer affects me.”

“Good,” he said approvingly. “It is pleasing to hear it spoken aloud after all this time. But I did not kill the wife of Lee Starfinder. She was as you see her when I arrived here.”

Lee’s wife! Gewey reached out and felt her spirit still residing within her body. Yet her physical life was completely gone.

“Release her if you wish,” offered Aremiel. “I will not stop you. Her usefulness to me has come to an end.”

Gewey took hold of Penelope Starfinder's spirit and pulled it from her body. He could feel her confusion and frustration.
Be calm
, he told her.
You will be with Lee very soon
. He then released her and guided her from the chamber.

“Now we can concentrate on the matters at hand,” Aremiel said.

“Yes,” agreed Gewey. “But there is something I would know. Why did you wage this war at all? Why not simply fight a war against the gods? Why did so many others need to suffer?”

“That you care so much for the suffering of mortals separates you from the rest of your kind,” he replied. “But I am afraid there is no easy answer as to why I have done this. My ambitions were small before I took the
sword
. I simply wanted to free the mortal world from the cycle of lies that corrupted our hearts and ruined our spirits.

“For thousands of years the gods have demanded worship. And for thousands of years they have interfered with the lives of humans. But to what end? The very temples erected in their names have become dens of vermin and disease. And what did they do to stop it? Nothing. When it amuses them, they enforce their will and move us like pieces on a board. Then they watch as cities crumble and people are slaughtered. When they are needed most…they disappear. They leave others to put back together the pieces of the world that they themselves have helped to tear apart.”

He paused for a moment. “But after I took the
sword
, my eyes were opened. The malady of the world was far beyond any remedy mortal man could provide. For he has become infected as well. The gods have held sway for too long. I quickly discovered that the very people I had hoped to save were now as much a part of the disease as were the gods. It was then that I realized what must be done. The world needed to be wiped clean so that life could begin anew. And only I had the power and the will to do it.”

Gewey could hear the conviction in his voice…and the madness. “You were once a believer in redemption. Do you have no hope that the mortal world can be healed?”

“I was once a believer in many things,” he countered. “And just as you were once a naïve farm boy, I grew up. Even one such as you must admit that humans and elves are beyond redemption. The Great War settled nothing. To this day, they continue to squabble and bicker.  How long before this festering boil of hate explodes into another war?”

“That may be,” said Gewey. “But you have no right to interfere. You are becoming like the very beings you despise. But instead of merely misguiding the mortal world into disaster the way they do, you seek to destroy it completely.”

Aremiel laughed. “No. Not completely. There is still virtue in the world. There is still strength. Once all else is cleansed, I will create a new world and a new people. And with my hand to guide them, they will finally know true harmony and happiness.”

“So you intend to become the Creator? Is that your ultimate plan?”

“The Creator?” he mocked. “Is there even such a being? I see no evidence of it. And if there is, then it is as much responsible for the insanity of the world as the gods are. More so in fact.”

“There
is
a Creator,” Gewey stated emphatically “And to aspire to rise so high will only result in your greater fall.”

“And are you not here to ensure that I do fall? Are you not here to stop me? It seems to me that I have more to fear from
you
than from some mythical Creator.”

“If it is
her
will, then I
will
stop you. Perhaps that will be the only proof you will accept.”

“And if stopping me means your own death?”

“Then so be it,” Gewey replied. The resounding boom that issued from his lips caused the Dark Knight to flinch. His enemy could feel the power raging within him. Equally, he could feel the strength of his enemy. They were evenly matched. And they both knew it.

“There is another way,” he offered. “Leave this world to me. Take your wife and child and return to heaven where you belong. I can use the power of the
sword
to let you pass through. Leave here and be contented.”

Gewey scowled. “That you think I would abandon the world and its people to the fate you describe tells me you know nothing of who I am. The world you seek to mold would be as loathsome as the one you now revile. More so, as it would be devoid of kindness and pity. You speak of strength and virtue, but you never once mention love and compassion. You seek a throne that will make you the one and only god of this world. But a god has no use for thrones. So what does that make you?” He sneered and waved his hand dismissively. “Just a mortal man with grand ambitions and egotistical dreams of glory.”

He let out a short, ironic laugh. “I once feared this day. I envisioned you as some colossal fiend that I would have to conquer. But I was wrong. You are just a man. Small minded and unable to wield power with wisdom.” He could see the rage building in his enemy's eyes.

“You might destroy me, Aremiel,” he continued, “But I no longer fear you. Whatever happens now, I know that you were never a god. In fact, you are barely a man. And I pity you.”

The Dark Knight rose to his feet and the chair turned to dust behind him. “Then let us finish this now, Darshan, son of Gerath.”

Gewey stood, and his chair disintegrated as well. “May you find forgiveness in the next
world.”

Aremiel snorted. “I need no forgiveness. Only your blood.”

Gewey did not waste time with more words. Instead, he drew his blade and readied himself. When he'd fought Melek, the battle had been waged between their spirits. But his adversary this time was not a god, and he was unsure of how he would be attacked.

“I have always wondered what it would be like to fight one of your kind in the flesh,” the Dark Knight said softly, almost as a gentle muse.

In a blur of motion, he rushed in. The curtain of light radiating from his sword sharpened, making it appear as if he were wielding a thunderbolt rather than cold steel.

As they came together and their swords met, the ringing of steel on steel was far louder than Gewey had ever known before. More than that, each time their blades clashed, angry flames shot out in every direction. For a while he was forced steadily back, and twice his feet nearly slid from beneath him.

The Dark Knight pushed forward relentlessly, then suddenly switched his method of attack from high sweeps to a series of low thrusts and tightly controlled strikes. Gewey fended these off rather more easily. With his balance now restored, he countered furiously. But the Dark Knight parried and avoided his attempts to draw blood with no more effort than if fighting a young boy.

It suddenly became clear to Gewey that his enemy was toying with him, and that he was no match for the man's skill. In that case, he decided, he must rely on brute strength. There was just one thing worrying him. Though he could easily heal from a wound made by a normal sword, he had no idea what an injury from The Sword of Truth might do to him. For all he knew, one small cut might mean instant death.

Putting this from his mind, he stepped right and using all of his strength, swept his sword violently across at the Dark Knight’s hip. The blow was easily deflected, but the sheer force sent his enemy stumbling back several paces.

“For a moment I thought this would be too simple,” he said with a half-smile. “Your physical strength is truly impressive. But your skill with a sword…”

He rushed in again, this time sending a hail of strikes raining down. Gewey did his best to counter, but even with his godlike speed, the Dark Knight’s skill was quickly overcoming his defenses. Finally, steel found the flesh of his left arm. His eyes went wide. But with a flash of relief he realized that the
sword
had done no more harm to him than any other weapon might have.

As droplets of his blood spilled onto the floor, the Dark Knight grinned. “That is what I wanted to see. The blood of a god drawn by my own blade.” He took several steps back and gripped the hilt with both hands. “And now we shall see how powerful you
really
are.”

The ground began to shake violently. Gewey could feel the
flow
radiating from his enemy like heat from the desert sun. Even Melek had not felt so powerful as this. Rocks fell from the high ceiling of the chamber, shattering on the stone floor all around him.

He’ll bring the whole place down around us
.

From the corner of his eye, he saw that the vortex was growing and consuming the terrace surrounding it. The Dark Knight rose ten feet into the air, both hands still gripping the Sword of Truth. His eyes were burning with fierce rage; his mouth was twisted into a vicious snarl.

Panic briefly threatened to take hold of Gewey, but then he heard a small voice in the back of his mind whisper:
Use your strength. Use your knowledge.
He smiled and nearly laughed out loud. Gerath was still with him.

He rose up, matching the Dark Knight's elevation. When level, he met the gaze of his enemy and raised both his arms. The vast mass of splintering earth above them instantly exploded upwards, sending millions of tons of rock and debris flying out in every direction. Light from the noonday sun streamed over them like water released from a broken levy. 

Gewey shot skyward through the opening; the Dark Knight immediately did the same. Below, Gewey could see that the vortex was still continuing to expand. The massive crater he had just created would be consumed within minutes.

“Impressive,” said Aremiel. “You have learned to use your gifts. And you are far more powerful than I anticipated. So much the better. I will make your strength my own.”