Chapter 24:

Chapter 24

As if crying out in dismay at what had transpired, the earth began to shiver and groan. Cracks appeared across the already-parched ground like tainted wounds, spilling forth gouts of gas and ominous and foul-smelling dark fluids. Strange shapes began to take form from these vile expulsions, solidifying into fiendish beings that were not meant to walk the grounds of Faearth.

Fallingstar Spire itself had started to glow with a terrible blood-colored light. Pieces of crystals fell from the once magnificent structure as the entire spire shook violently as if it were in its death throes. The black hags let out wailing keens that were soon matched by the earth-bound creatures. But their horrible cries were drowned out when the dragons, still circling the crumbling spire, opened their great maws and let out earth shattering roars.

The rock Breaker had been clinging to suddenly split apart, causing the gray elf to leap off quickly. Feeling his breakers humming in their sheaths, the gray elf drew his weapons while simultaneously falling into a defensive crouch. One moment, he was alone, and then, without any pomp or flourish, a figure appeared a few feet next to where he was.

His muscles moving before he had consciously commanded them to move, he launched himself at this new assailant, aiming for the throat and the heart. His brain registered bright gold eyes and the familiar garish red coat just before his blades struck the mark, and he pulled back even as Azarielle dropped a shield between the two of them. The young mage opened her mouth for another one of her tirades, but whatever words she might have said died upon her lips when her eyes beheld the vision around them.

“You survived,” Breaker whispered wryly, after a moment.

“Yes, your brother has to deal with one more mage defacing our fair world for yet another day,” she replied directly into his mind. “So, looks like they are trying to summon the Avatar of Acedia. We probably ought to stop them.”

“He…what?!” Breaker was so surprised that he forgot to whisper.

“And we cannot stop anybody if we get eaten or horribly murdered,” came the tart reply in his mind. “Where is…ah, here they are.”

Azarielle turned and smiled cheerily at a surprised Luthien and the rest of the high elves who had made their way towards where Breaker was when the spire had started to shake.

“Glad to see you haven’t gotten yourself heroically killed yet, Luthien,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

Luthien stared at Azarielle, feeling a mix of relief, joy and something else he did not have a name for rushing over him. He said, quietly, “It is good that you are well.”

“Ofeera did not come with you?” Breaker asked quietly.

Azarielle shook her head in response, “She needs time with Abihayil. As I was saying to Breaker, we are going to have an Avatar unleashed if all goes badly. And there appears to be an army between us and the spire, any ideas?”

* * * *

Theredoniel stood at the center of the circle, clutching the Staff of Everstar in his hands. The parchment containing Elucielle’s letter and the incantation that unbound the Staff’s true power floated in the air before him. Outside of the circle and to his right stood Lucien, the evil human prince regarding him as a cat might regard a mouse it was planning to eat. Eowyna lay to his left, her body motionless.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, the young elf held up the staff in both hands and began speaking the words of the unbinding. As each word slipped from his mouth, he felt the staff grow warmer and lighter in his hand. And, when the last word fell from his lips, the jewel atop the staff burst into life, glowing so brightly that he could not look upon it.

For one moment, he found himself cocooned in a gentle, golden light. A hundred million voices sang a hundred million dreams, the different tunes blending together into a beautiful melody that lifted his heart. Faces, both human and elven, drifted through his mind’s eye. His surroundings changed too, a dessert, a village, a city, a garden, and then the inside of the sanctuary where he and Lucien had obtained the staff.

Patron Patel, the man he had helped Lucien murder, stood before him inside the sanctuary. The Staff of Everstar stood between them, glowing softly. The patron opened his mouth and started to speak, but no sound issued forth from his lips. Believing the man had somehow returned from the dead was now summoning his powers to bear, Theredoniel leaped back, the words of several deadly attacks upon his lips.

The image of the patron dissipated along with the sanctuary, and he found himself once again standing in the center of the blood circle.

“Is something the matter?” Lucien asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, it was nothing,” Theredoniel replied. “Let us be done with this. What must I do?”

Lucien inclined his head slightly, “Listen, dear Theredoniel. Can you not hear it? Acedia herself whispers in these halls.”

Theredoniel’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he did as Lucein bid. He listened. At first, all he heard was the periodic screeching from the monstrous creatures gathered outside the spire. But after a while, he became aware of quiet whispers, almost like sighs, echoing all around him.

The moment he became aware of the whispered voice, it grew louder and louder until it became almost deafening, drowning out every other sound. Theredoniel dropped the staff and tried to cover his ears with his hands, but the voices pierced through his paltry defenses, resounding in his mind and in the very core of his being. Over and over they screamed words that he recognized as the incantation that would open the gate.

“Speak the words, dear Theredoniel. Speak them and the voices will be silenced,” Lucien’s voice caressed him like a cool, breeze. “Speak them and you will have the power to save your beloved Ofeera.”

The young elf lord whimpered in response, rocking back and forth.

“Pick up the staff and speak the words, Theredoniel,” he heard Lucien’s voice urging him. “Speak the words and this will all be done. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want this to be over? Don’t you just want to rest in the arms of your beloved?”

Crying out in pain, Theredoniel’s reached out a hand for the staff. His fingers convulsed around the shaft and he forced himself to his feet, holding the staff into the air. The screamed the first word of the incantation, his voice practically being practically torn from his throat. Pain lanced through his limbs, but he pushed on, uttering the second and third words.

The air grew thicker, so thick that it was almost enough to choke on, with each word that he spoke. The air was rank, filled with the smell of death and decay. Waves of terrible power rose from the ground and he knew despair as he had known it - utter bleakness, complete desolation. An unnamable, primal fear filled turned his stomach, and revulsion sent goose bumps marching up and down his body. His heart pounded violently in his chest as if it were trying to escape from his damned body.

But he pushed on, uttering each word with his voice while calling out his wife’s name with his heart. Eowyna was his prayer and his hope. Her radiant smile was the light with which he would fight against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

* * * * *

Lucien watched as Theredoniel spoke the words of unbinding, smiling slightly when the ground beneath his started trembling. The waves of malevolent power sweeping through the room were enough to set even his hairs on end. Despair hung over the room like a pall, and it was all the elf lord could do not to be consumed by it.

Theredoniel was barely hanging on to his own self by clinging to his last remaining hope – that of his wife’s resurrection. It was rather remarkable that he still had any sense of self identify left in the face of Acedia’s all consuming presence. But then, it would be all the sweeter for the Abyssal when Theredoniel’s last glimmer of light, his last link to humanity was shattered. In the moment when Theredeoniel becomes the new Avatar, he would gain the knowledge that Acedia’s power would never bring back Eowyna. Oh, he would be able to create an impressive puppet, one that would converse with him and move on its own, but that was all he’d ever have, a puppet.

And, in that moment, when he was truly overcome with despair, he would belong to Acedia.

A particularly powerful rumbled almost knocked him off his feet, and Lucien opened his mouth to speak the words of a protective spell that would keep him unharmed when the Spire fell. The only warning he had was a movement in the air around him, followed by a sharp pain piercing through the side of his neck. He jerked back, and saw silver flashing through the spot he had been standing only a moment before.

He called upon his power to close the stinging wound and lashed out with it almost simultaneously. But before he could fully voice his offensive attack, he felt the bite of another weapon between his ribs. Searing pain, like fire, pierced him, and he pulled away and sent his power towards this new assailant. It struck a barrier and dissipated with an angry hiss.

The mage, Azarielle, stood in front of him, a short sword held in her hand. Lucien cursed when he felt the power emanating from her weapon. It was a mage-bane, a weapon that the Mage Council had long sought to destroy!

“That’s not a very nice greeting, lovely Azarielle,” he hissed. “Your Mage Council would not be pleased to know that you have a such a sword in your possession.”

Azarielle shrugged, “Those council members aren’t ever pleased. Besides, they didn’t mention anything about avatars either, and it can kill you so I think it’s all fair.”

“Kill me?” the corners of the Lucien’s lips turned up in a sardonic smile. “You have to strike a vital part first.”

“I kind of thought it would be that way. You flesh shaping type really are a nasty lot.”

Feeling motion in the air again, Lucien jumped back and summoned forth a shield that glowed with angry red power. It barely held when first the gray elf slayer, and then his brother struck almost simultaneous blows upon it, causing him to grimace.

Where had they came from and how had he not sensed them?!

Lucien grimaced again when Luthien and Breaker continued to pound away at his shield, which he could barely maintain because he was trying to stop himself from bleeding to death through the nasty wound that Azarielle’s infernal blade had made. If the young mage had pushed just a little harder, or if he had moved just a moment slower, the weapon would have sank into his heart.

His lovely mage was advancing towards him now, her golden eyes glittering dangerously and her evil sword held out in the ready. Lucien knew that she intended to shatter his shield, and with him thus weakened, and her in possession of a mage-bane, she very likely would. And, unlike his gentle Ofeera, Azarielle would not hesitate to take his life.

It was one of the things he found so charming about her, though at this moment, he was rather concerned. There were five other high elves in the room, and he recognized them as the rangers from Everstar Spire. They had their bows drawn and as one, they fired upon Theredoniel.

For one moment, Lucien thought that the young elf lord would be slain. But then, just before they hit their mark, the arrows disintegrated, becoming dust before they even struck the ground.

Theredoniel made a gesture with his hand and all five elves went flying backwards, striking the walls around the room and becoming silent. From the waves of power pouring off him, Lucien could tell that he was beginning his transformation into the Avatar.

“It would seem you are still a moment too late, Lady Azarielle,” he said. “Look at your friend.”

“One problem at a time,” she replied, charging forward and thrusting her sword towards him. Before it could reach him, it was blasted from her hand, and she jerked back, spinning around to face Theredoniel.

“Theredoniel, you seriously have to stop helping creepy crawly here, or I am really going to be unhappy with you,” she said, looking at him. “In fact, I think I already am. Did you know that you smell like dead things?”

“You didn’t die Azarielle, I am glad,” Theredoniel’s voice held an echoing dissonance that resounded through the room hollowly. “It was all a dream, then.”

“I wish it were. You really are doing this, Theredoniel,” she replied. “You really are being an idiot.”

“It’s for Eowyna.”

Azarielle shook her head sadly, “No it’s not. It’s for you. You are doing this for you. Eowyna would not have wanted this.”

Theredoniel smiled sadly, “I can’t let her go Azarielle.”

“Theredoniel, she’s already gone.”

“No, you are wrong, she’s just resting.”

“You are lying to yourself.”

“Am I? Perhaps, but it gives me hope.”