The Keystaff Chronicles - Chapter 22

Chapter 22
The red-orange tinged sky stretched into the horizon and bled into the parched earth all around them. Three days had gone by since they set out from the Sentinel Grove, and its tall green trees already seemed a distant dream. Save for the occasional ghoul and the twisted, bleeding trunks of the cursed trees, they had seen nothing but emptiness. Breaker imagined that the Abyss was probably no different from this.
“We will reach Fallingstar Spire by nightfall.”
Gubriel, who had volunteered to lead them after their query, pointed into the distance as he spoke, his eyes narrowed and his body taut with tension. The elf wore his cloak of invisibility, but since Breaker and Luthien were also given the cloaks, they could look upon one another.
Breaker noted the high elf’s white-knuckle grip on his bow and the almost imperceptible tremor when the words Fallingstar Spire were uttered. He saw the same unease mirrored in the other three high elves who had accompanied them on their trip.
“What of this place?” Luthien asked.
The knight had barely slept in the past few days. Back in the Everstar Spire, he had stayed at the mage’s side until he was assured of her safety. And during their trek through this blasted land, he would be awake even when it was another’s turn to keep watch. There was little doubt in his mind that determination alone moved the knight’s weary legs. Would Luthien even be fit for battle?
“It is a damned place, even in this forsaken land,” Gubriel answered with a shake of his head. “It is said that the Fallingstar Spire was raised by mages of old in tribute to the Great Lady at the site of her final battle. But this once holy place became cursed when the Blight of Pestilence worked his foul power there to create the Plague. All manner of ghouls, abominations and other Abyssal denizens have been drawn to this place.”
“You have been there?” Breaker asked,
The golden-haired elf nodded with a shudder he could not quite suppress, “The Old One tells us that we are safe in the forest, that an ancient power protects us. But some amongst the very young or the very old dream of your outside world and seek to escape this cursed place.”
The elf stopped for a moment, and Breaker saw his jaw clench tightly. When he spoke again, his voice strained, “Hazuriel and I pursued a… mad old man. He had taken one of these invisibility cloaks and food, but in his madness he set out in the wrong direction. The Old One knew where he was headed and told us that we had to reach him before the Fallingstar Spire. We chased after him, but he had been a skilled ranger and we did not catch up to him until it was too late.”
“There were monstrous creatures everywhere. There were ghouls and… things that looked sewn together from many corpses; obscene creatures with too many heads or too many limbs with entrails seeping out of their bodies; things that didn’t have a form they could hold onto, changing from one shape to another; and then, there were the black hags, winged fiends that have the semblance of old women but with large leathery wings sprouting from their backs.”
“We spotted my… the old man, but he saw us too. He knew that we had come to bring him back, so he ran. He was so panicked that he wasn’t watching where he was going, and his cloak caught on the limb of a tree and ripped and was ripped off of him.
“The black hags caught sight of him first. Screeching horrifically, they descended upon him. When they saw him it was as if all hope for survival left him. He simply stood there until the first harpy ripped him open. I suppose it was a blessing that he didn’t live long. The hags devoured him in moments, tearing him to pieces in mere moments. And what was left of him when they were done became food to the ghouls. It was all over before we could reach him.”
Gubriel spun away abruptly, “If we catch up to those servants before they reach Fallingstar Spire, we’ll have more of a chance to survive.”
* * *
Lucien stretched out his arms, took a deep breath, and promptly sneezed as the foul stench of harpy breath assaulted his nostrils. Two of the unfortunate-looking creatures flanked him as he strolled through what had once been the Doriel Kethevar’s laboratory. Their droopy visages that resembled melted candle sticks inspired gloom upon all those unfortunate enough to behold them. Which, being servants of Acedia, was what one would expect. Still, if he had to keep company with abyssal fiends, he would have much preferred a voluptuous succubus or two.
Of course, if he had a choice in the matter, he would much rather have his beautiful Ofeera and the mesmerizing Azarielle at his side. Had circumstances been different, he would have taken his sweet young bride with him. Though he has had the pleasure of knowing many women, few could match her beauty or the innocence of her heart. How many years would it take before he turned her from her beloved Abihayil? A hundred years, perhaps, five hundred? Watching her descent into Abyss would have provided him many years of entertainment!
And then there was the mage. She was not as beautiful as his Ofeera in the conventional sense. But her power! That wild, heady, alluring fire, oh how it excited him! Though she too seem quite enamored with the Eternal Father at the present, the very strength of that exhilaratingly terrifying power could very well prove to be the catalyst to sway her towards him. He would not be able to discard her once she joined him – she was too powerful for that. In fact, her power could potentially challenge his, which was what made her so irresistible.
“This is the place,” one of the hags rasped, her gloomy voice dragging him out of his pleasant thoughts. He glanced at the wretched creature that looked at him with her dreary face and spoke with a mouth filled with yellowed and decaying teeth. This one was particularly odious, no doubt because she had eaten earlier. Hags were not particularly choosy what they ate, and from the bit of rotting flesh caught between the cracks of her teeth, he surmised that she had probably dined on a ghoul or two.
“Lovely,” he said. “Now please, give me a little place, my dear. Your breath is quite lethal, and though I am sure you’d be more than happy to make a meal of me if I were to faint, it wouldn’t be pleasing to your revered mistress. And that would be most unpleasant, I assure you.”
The hag hissed at him, a sound not unlike a death rattle, but backed away with its companion. Lucien rolled his eyes and beckoned at the Rising Sun mages who stood at the entrance of the laboratory with stricken expressions that he found quite droll. There were only two of them now, Dao and Ting…or maybe it was Dao and Kai. He hadn’t paid enough attention to differentiate between them. One of them had met with an unfortunate accident when they had first come upon the Spire. The pathetic man had taken one look at the servants of Acedia and ran. He didn’t get far before a black hag caught took a bite out of his neck.
Lucien hadn’t decided whether to make a ghoul out of him yet. He would be rather useless since he couldn’t bite anything unless it held still for him. On top of that, it wouldn’t be long before the bit of skin and tendon holding the head onto the neck wore away and he became nothing more than just a head with gnashing teeth. On the other head, ghouls with floppy heads were thoroughly entertaining to watch.
“It’s a bit of a mess, gentlemen, but do come in and find a seat… somewhere,” Lucien gestured around the room filled with yellowing scrolls, cracked containers and rotting furniture. “Or if you would prefer to stand there, then at least let dear Theredoniel through. He’s the star attraction!”
The two white-lipped mages trudged into the room, with Theredoniel following suit. The yellow-haired elf strode into the room with Eowyna’s body obediently following him in. Lucien’s lips curved in a mocking smile when he saw the elf clutching his dead wife’s hand. What a hopeless fool.
“She’s not doing well,” Theredoniel said to him. Almost on queue Eowyna’s legs folded underneath her, and she crumpled to the ground.
She had started to rot again. Clumps of her hair had already fallen off, and her body was emitting a most unpleasant odor. Theredoniel hated it when he was reminded of his wife’s true state, but it was needed to keep him in line… and to sway him to serve the Abyssal Ones.
“There is nothing for me to do, dear Theredniel,” Lucien replied. “You will have her fully restored and at your side in mere moments. Are you ready?”
Theredoniel picked his wife up and laid her down in a more comfortable position at the furthest corner of the room, “We’ll be together my beloved. We’ll be… happy again. I love you.”
Eowyna did not respond and her eyes stared past him. That was the most painful thing for him to see, her open eyes that didn’t see. Many times he had wanted to reach out his hands and close them, but every time, he would stop. If he closed her eyes then she would look… dead.
Of course, she wasn’t dead. She was just resting; just sleeping.
Theredoniel leaned down and kissed her forehead, tenderly, afraid that he would damage her fragile skin further. Then, he rose to his feet resolutely, grasping the Staff of Everstar more tightly in his hand. In his other hand, he held the scroll he had obtained from Elucielle’s study.
“I am ready,” he said to Lucien.
The cruel prince smiled, “Good, then let us get things ready. First, we need a little bit of blood…”
He gestured at Kai and the hapless mage walked towards the center of the room with a look of confusion, quickly becoming terror, on his face.
“Kai, what are you…” Dao turned to the pale prince. “What do you think you are doing, Prince Lucien?!”
“Hmm? Why, I am merely putting Ting or Kai, or whichever one he is, to good use, as your dear Prince Yue intended,” Lucien replied with a pleasant smile.
“His Higness would not…” Dao bit back whatever else he intended to say. Instead, he pointed a finger at the vile prince and began to speak the words of an incantation. Green-yellow light ignited at his fingertip. The light stretched and twisted until it formed a web and shout out towards Lucien. However, unlike a similar attack Dao had sprung upon Azarielle, the one he intended for Lucien was meant to kill.
Lucien laughed and did not move. At the last possible moment, he snapped his finger at Kai. The unfortunate man leaped in front of him with a wail and was struck by the full force of Dao’s attack. The green-yellow web passed through him, slicing him to pieces in an instant.
To Dao’s horror, his companion’s blood spewed forth from the torn body but did not splatter onto the ground. Instead, the many droplets of blood hung suspended in the air, glistening like red pearls. Lucien plucked a blood drop as if it were a cherry and held it up to examine it.
“Ah, the fellow had been experimenting with poisons. Don’t look so sad, dear Dao; he only had a few years left in him anyhow. If you don’t believe me, see for yourself.”
Lucien flicked his finger and the blood drop splattered flew through the air and splattered onto the startled Dao’s face. The Rising Sun mage wiped the blood away and glared fiercely at Lucien, his lips already moving to speak the words of another attack. Lucien merely sighed and made a dismissive motion at the mage.
It started as a tingling sensation on his cheek and his hand that had wiped away the blood. That was the only warning Dao got when he suddenly felt pain slicing across his face and his hand as if he was being cut by a knife. Spidery cracks ran through his skin, but quickly deepened and widened until flesh split with the sound of an overripe fruit.
Dao tried to push back against this insidious power that was invading his body but found that he was unable to even slow its spread. Knowing that he had only moments to live but determined to take his enemy down with him, the mage chose instead to focus his remaining power on offensive. He screamed the words of an incantation with his last few breaths, but before he could complete his attack, his throat closed. He felt a flash of pain tear through his throat before darkness fell over him.
Theredoniel watched as the man keeled over, covered from head to toe in his own blood. Both this man and his companion had died horribly, but the young elf realized that even as he watched this all transpire he no longer felt horror or revulsion at these brutal deaths. It was just one more atrocity in a long line of atrocities he had aided, abided and committed on this journey.
There was nothing left in him but a desire to see Eowyna smiling and talking.
“Let’s be done with it,” he said dully to Lucien.
Lucien chuckled and inclined his head slightly in acquiescence. He held out his hand and began to speak. His voice took on a frightful echoing tone as inhuman, monstrous sounds crawled out of his throat. The blood of his victims began to flow in a circular shape around them, forming spidery runes that began to glow with an unholy red light.
“The scroll contains the incantation that would unlock the true power of the keystaff,” Lucein said as he stepped outside of the circle, “With it, you will be able to attain power enough to save your beloved. All you have to do is open the gate.”
Theredoniel laid the staff down onto the ground and carefully unrolled the scroll. Letter by letter, word by word, Elucielle’s commands appeared in glowing gold letters across the ancient parchment.
Child of Gwenevar,
If the temporary stewardship of this staff falls upon you, and your need is great, then speak the words below and the power that has been invested into this fact shall be loaned to you for one day.
If no archmage exists to guard this staff, it is to be handed over to the High Council of Mages, and passed onto one faithful to the Uncrowned Prince.
Elucielle Gwenevar
Beneath it, inscribed in one neat line, was the incantation that unbound the power of the Keystaff.