Chapter 27: Of painful Light and vengeful Darkness

Athea watched Feya’s daughter riding away through the thousands of risen dead. The dead ignored her and continued clawing their path in the opposite direction. Farther in the west, the Norgar were chasing the Manthakin army towards the mountains. Tomorrow they could close them in, and end the battle with the biggest massacre in the history of Calmyra. Bigger even than the massacre in the north, where fifty-thousand Ogusi riders were ready to trample down the Ghallan Clans. The slaughter of many ten-thousand warriors would be a worthy celebration of her brother’s death.

None of that would happen now. She made a deal with her brother’s murderers. It wasn’t even a deal. She simply accepted all suggestions and demands, so the term ‘surrender’ seemed more accurate. Her eyes were drawn to the little plume of smoke. Smoke still rising from the Targhas’ burnt banners. A little smoke to remind her, and she remembered his words: “And that is my promise to you, if we will not be victorious, there won’t be survivors.” She had betrayed him, like she always knew she would. He would hate what she had done, maybe even hate her...

Don’t be stupid, little girl.

The people around her were talking again. Athea didn’t listen, but she heard the voice in her head.

He won’t hate you, he never will, because he can’t.

She wanted to believe. Roban wasn’t dead. A god cannot die. He would come back. It wasn’t her fault. None of her friends would die. They all would be together again, and everything would be the same. Everyone would be the same. It wasn’t her fault. They would be happy again. They loved each other. They always would. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault.

A cloudless sky and Athea watched out of tear filled eyes the western horizon. The descending sun touched the mountain summit and she blinked as a single ray of light reflected from its highest snow-capped peak. The ray found its target, a brilliantly shining crystal on a golden chain around a woman’s neck. The crystal ignited and a ball of blinding light burst forth from its center. An explosion brighter than the sun, and Athea concealed her eyes behind her hands to protect them from the light. She heard a sharp cracking sound that was followed by a dull sonic-wave. Then there was silence. Finally a puff of air blew past her, mild and tender.

It felt like a caress.

“Your daughter betrayed us!” Injontas shouted.

His family members sitting around the large table prized his outcry with stone-faced silence.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Injontas apologized, but broke out laughing.

“Yes, Deception betrayed us, as you knew she would. That doesn’t make it a laughing matter. You could have stopped her. You should have stopped her! You, Khor, Feya and Maldurin, you set this up, and I didn’t agree to this plan. I never would have,” Nyome said, angrily glaring at the laughing God of Justice.

“Balkhor and Messaya knew of it as well. And we did try to stop her. I warned Ghania, and Feya talked to Deception,” Maldurin replied.

“Destruction was the target, why didn’t you warn him, or at least his sister, Chaos?” Ipochone asked.

“I invaded Menja’s mind to talk to Ghania. Do you seriously expect I could have done that with Chaos or Destruction and come back to talk about it?” Maldurin questioned in return.

“Quit it, we’re no fools! I clearly remember we all agreed to not attempt anymore assassinations. You could have stopped Deception, if you really wanted, but you didn’t. Now tell us why, what happened, and most importantly, why we were not privy to the change of plans,” Ebora demanded.

“We were scared that if we kill Roban, the vessel, Destruction might come to us and extinguish our godly existence. We received a message from Roban. It was loud and clear, but maybe you didn’t listen. It said, Destruction doesn’t need to extinguish you, I’m able to destroy the world, and there is nothing you can do about it. Without a world you are no gods and will be nothing anyway,” Feya calmly replied. “We are fighting for survival, and we’re losing. It’s not the plan that changed; we changed what we’re willing to do to survive. We didn’t stop Deception because we knew her plan would fail. We knew something she didn’t. The Atyseos shard is able to incarcerate a human soul, but Roban is no human anymore. He is a god, a new god.”

“How do you know, and what do you mean by ‘A new god’?” Ebora asked.

“Humans dream, but Roban isn’t dreaming anymore,” Maldurin stated.

“Roban, the human, merged with Destruction. They became something new; a being with human wants and needs but without a soul, and with Destruction’s power and intention burning inside of him. A new god, and how would you call him?” Feya asked.

“The one who never should’ve been born,” Khor grunted in response.

“Where is he now?” Injontas asked.

“In the Underworld, and if Balkhor succeeds, it’s where he will stay, for eternity,” Maldurin answered.

“If Balkhor succeeds? What did Messaya think about this plan?” Nyome asked, but no one answered. “That’s what I thought. Balkhor is just another pawn in your game, a pawn to be sacrificed, just like your daughter. Lies within lies. I’m not smart enough to see through your web of lies, but I don’t want be a part of it any longer. I’m tired, Feya. One day, when all your plans have succeeded, and you wear the crown you so richly deserve, I’ll bow to you. But don’t call for me again, before that day has come.”

No one said a word and Nyome left the gathering of the gods in silence.

“She’s a mother and you’re fighting her children. She can’t be your ally. Let her go,” Ipochone said as soon as Nyome was gone.

“You’re also a mother. Iane, Submission, she’s your daughter and has chosen the side of Chaos and Destruction. So we’re fighting her too. What about you?” Ebora asked.

“Ohh, I’m also not your ally, but don’t worry, I won’t fight or betray you. I’ll even help with your plans if you ask me. I’ll help, and then I’ll watch your plans fail. You see, I have the utmost confidence that you will never win this war,” Ipochone answered. “Now excuse me, I’ll follow Nyome. I’ll remind her of what she once did to save her son. The memory will comfort her.”

Ipochone left, a little smile on her face.

“Mothers, they blame everyone but their children. Where their loyalty lies is clear, we can’t trust them anymore,” Cointas stated.

“They are my children too. A son who betrayed me the first chance he got. After that I never wanted a daughter, but I got one who joined him. Let their mother cry for them, I want them gone,” Khor said, disgust leaking from his voice.

“My heart is bleeding for you, dear brother. We sent your son to scare a little girl, and rob her of her power. He didn’t obey and became her protector. What a gruesome betrayal. You told us the procreation of your daughter was a drunken incident. Now I’m not sure, maybe Nyome wasn’t as drunk. Nyome wanted a daughter to save her son. Chaos was born and we have no one to blame but ourselves. We need to fight them, but we don’t need to be lying to ourselves,” Ebora said.

“And are you willing to fight with us against them, Ebora?” Feya asked.

“Yes, I am. Not because I trust you, I know you, Feya. Nyome is right, you want to rule, and your schemes and plans are a web of lies. The thing is, I am not scared of you. I am scared of Chaos; she is so much scarier than you are. Your plans have awoken her before, and Atyseos, our home, lies in shambles because you did. We sent her to sleep, but I fear you woke her up again. I’ll fight for you, and when the war is over and the winner wears a crown, I will be happy, because I know it’s only you. Chaos doesn’t need a crown.”

Ebora and Feya stared at each other, unveiled hate in their eyes, until Injontas laughter broke their standoff.

“I love our family meetings. They are like tourneys fought with hidden weapons, and it’s always a surprise to find out who’ll stab you in the back. I’m not sure who won today. Softhearted little Nyome, my darling mate Ipochone, or was it Ebora’s skilled attack on Feya’s vanity,” Injontas mused. “Yes Feya, we all know about your schemes, we always did. We didn’t stop you and even played along, busily playing our own games. This mess isn’t yours alone, it’s ours. Put a salve on your wounded ego, Ebora is right, we’ll have to face Chaos, and it won’t be pretty.”

Feya glared at her siblings around her, but then she nodded.

“Now tell us, why you really want Roban to be caught in the underworld,” Injontas asked.

“The Vampire,” Feya answered. “Athea will kill her to rescue her brother.”

“And if she does, he’ll never forgive her. Ruthless and brilliant, I’m disgusted and proud of you,” Ebora snorted.

“Thank you,” Feya spat.

“The vampires are feverishly searching for Jenaya, the miracle child. If we let them know where to find her, and they find out that Athea killed her, she will have a deathly new enemy,” Maldurin suggested.

“Sounds good to me, send them a message. No matter if Athea kills her or not, the vampires want Jenaya, and she and Roban will never give her up. The vampires will become their enemies,” Injontas agreed.

“What shall we do about Nyome and Ipochone?” Cointas asked.

“Nothing; let them sulk. They’ll cheer and laugh about us if we fail, but they won’t fight or betray us,” Injontas said dismissively.

“What about Feya’s daughter, where is she?” Khor asked.

“I don’t know. She’s hiding of course, she thinks she betrayed me. She’ll have a lot of work to earn my forgiveness,” Feya sniggered.

“All right, let’s wait till we hear from Balkhor. He seemed very confident he could handle Roban,” Injontas said.

“I don’t worry about Roban or Destruction. We wanted to use him and failed, but he never was our enemy. I worry about Chaos. She’s awake in Athea, but she stayed almost silent. We openly attacked her brother and she still didn’t react. What is she waiting for?” Ebora asked.

“I don’t know,” Feya answered.

“And that’s why I’m worried,” Ebora sighed.

Darkness surrounded him like a fog and the man walking by his side was only visible because his shadow was denser. The man held a torch in his hand, and the torch burned brightly, but its light didn’t penetrate the darkness. Five hundred shadows were following them, five hundred twenty-four to be precise. Roban had no idea where he was leading them. He didn’t worry about it, somehow he was sure the direction didn’t matter. There were enough things on his mind. Things he didn’t like to think about. His thoughts tumbled and clattered like dice in a cup.

“You’re also just a shadow to me. The only thing I can see clearly is the iron chain around your wrist. Are you dead like us, or are you alive, and only here to lead the attack against the Underworld?” The shadow at his side asked.

Roban was thankful for the interruption, but not so much for the question.

“Do you know you are dead?” He asked in return.

“Someone thrust a lance through my stomach. I was trying to pull the shaft out of his hands, when a mace struck the side of my helmet. I fell on my knees and an ax blade slammed into my right shoulder. Another mace blow to my helmet is the last I can remember before I found myself here. So yes, I’m pretty sure I’m dead. I talked with the others, we’re all dead. Luckily, our wounds didn’t stay with us, otherwise some of us would be rather useless now. We’re uninjured, armed and ready. What about you?”

“An arrow pierced my shoulder. That shouldn’t have killed me, but it’s not the last I do remember. Something happened to me afterwards. It hurt a lot. Maybe that’s what killed me.” He thought a moment before he continued. “I was here once before, but it was different then. I was different. However, I didn’t stay here. My sister, she called me back. I don’t believe she can do it a second time.”

They walked through the darkness and Roban felt the soil beneath his bare feet change into hard, unrelenting stone. Pillars emerged out of the darkness seaming their path, dimly glowing with fine lines of copper, silver and gold randomly running across their surfaces. As they passed more and more pillars along their way, those metal lines appeared to be engravings and didn’t look so random anymore. Roban discerned the images of landscapes with rivers, forests and mountains. He saw castles, towns and harbors, and then he stopped in front of a pillar. The golden lines on that pillar were flowing, avoiding forming a picture. Roban placed his hand on the smooth surface. He felt warmth. The flowing lines gathered close to his spread fingers, and now he could see. It was a face, the face of a man, a face he had known when he was young. It was the face of his father.

Roban walked on.

The faces were the hardest to detect, but once he did, he found countless of them engraved in the pillars. Young faces, old faces, beautiful and ugly faces. Faces he had never seen before. Faces he thought he might have seen before. And faces he knew. Standing in front of a pillar, he looked at the image of a young woman. His fingertips stroke along the lines of her face as he remembered. It was a winter night, two years ago, a tent, a young woman, vibrant and alive. He remembered and felt he lost something, something he never had missed before. He would never see her smile again, never see her cry again. Kelala was her name, and she was dead. People were born, they lived, and they died. It’s the way of life, he told himself, and then he smiled.

It’s not the way of my sister.

The distance between the pillars was decreasing and caused the light around to brighten. More and more pillars he passed on his way, and as the light brightened, the shadows of the Vermurak weakened. He was walking through a corridor of gleaming pillars and when he stopped and looked around, he was alone, but he found something lying on the dark stone floor. Two balls, one black, and one white. He picked them up and walked on. The corridor ended and a wide hall opened up in front of him. A large, solid stone table stood in its center, and a scale was placed on it. The scale was balanced but its pans were empty.