Chapter 071: Down The Spiral
"Smashed up my sanity
Smashed up integrity
Smashed up what I believed in
Smashed up what's left of me
Smashed up my everything
Smashed up all that was true
Gonna smash myself to pieces
I don't know what else to do"
Gave Up - Nine Inch Nails
It was beginning. Finally, I might add, for the waiting had taken too
much time as it was. Not that I was in any way uncomfortable, sitting there on
some cushions in the middle of the somewhat larger Cardane dwelling made
available to me, some food and drink placed conveniently within arm's reach, and
left well alone to concentrate on my task, but the long wait was in a way rather
exhausting too, and I had been hoping that the army would arrive before I had
totally worn myself out maintaining the power link with both Cardane and Svarta.
But now they were pouring into Svarta, ranks and ranks of the little grey men
known as Lur, the flying white monsters and the worm-infested floating red
balloon things, the insectoid commanders, the giant burrowing worms looming up
out of the earth only now and again, and the few massive lumbering shapes of the
gigantic hydras. It was time to raise the barrier.
Totally immersed in my scrutiny of the enemy's approach, I still
occasionally became aware of Caine and Deirdre entering or leaving the room,
taking care of the immediate defenses around me. Now and again they would
exchange a few tense words, but since they weren't addressing me, I didn't pay
them too much attention. Besides, other things had already started happening:
much earlier than I had anticipated the first part of the trap had been
triggered, and wave upon wave of the Svartan bat-creatures were descending upon
the army, slaying the intruders on their territory with a sickening ferocity.
They were mainly targeting the Lur, instinctively realising that the other
creatures might well be too powerful for them to tackle, but right from the
start it was plain that even the little grey men were too much for them. There
simply weren't enough Svartans to fight an army this size, no matter how hard
they tried. And there was nothing for me to do but watch as an entire race sped
to its doom.
I think the most sickening sight was that of the red balloons in action.
They would purposefully float over a spot where one of the Svartans was busy,
engaged in combat with one or more of its prey, and then suddenly it would
release its multitude of hungry worms on the unsuspecting target. They would
immediately burrow into the Svartan's flesh, often devouring it whole within a
matter of seconds. A few Svartans could manage to become airborne before
they were entirely destroyed, but their escape was always brief and soon
their bones would crash back down onto the ground. The worms were not very
discriminating in their feeding habits, by the way: the unlucky Lur whom they
happened to land on were eaten away just as quickly and greedily as the
attacking Svartans. At one point I even saw a Svartan turning on one of the
balloon things as it floated nearer and bursting through it in its flight,
spraying worms everywhere. A truly horrific sight.
Not that the other creatures weren't just as dangerous, mind you: the Lur
put up a good fight, secure in their superior numbers, the insectoids had
managed to get their high-tech weaponry working and started blasting the
Svartans from the sky, and the packs of flying white troops emerged triumphant
from nearly every aerial encounter. The giant sandworms and hydras just totally
outclassed the defenders: any Svartan who happened to come too close was
history. I felt tears well up in my eyes at witnessing so much carnage, but I
tried to hold them back. This was only just the beginning.
The next development in the crisis was the front ranks reaching the
Shadow barrier that formed the border between Svarta and Cardane. By now the
army must have been aware of my continuing presence, for they didn't spent much
time assessing the situation, but right away commenced making certain
preparations, involving the construction of some kind of weird structure out of
all kinds of presumably magical items. Glad to have something to keep my
attention from the slaughter of the Svartans, I watched them in growing
anticipation. They were rather efficient, though, and after only a few minutes
the insectoids withdrew from their handiwork, making room for a dozen or so of
assorted humanoid creatures, a few of those strange individuals that made up
only a very small part of the army. Together they began to concentrate on the
structure, and immediately I sensed their minds reaching out to activate the
magical energies, directing its force towards my barrier. The main Power was
quite reminiscent of Nexus, yet with a slightly different feel to it, but what
really got my attention was the fact that these people didn't seem to have any
individual minds: instead they seemed to be part of a larger collective mind, a
sort of a hive structure. It made me recall Alexander's tale of Murlas having
beaten a creature connected to the enemy that was specialized in mental combat;
it made me wonder if it could not have been something like this collective. If
so, he must have put up quite a fight, for their power was strong. Unwittingly,
they instantly triggered the second part of my trap.
The immediate effect scared the hell out of me: instead of a slowly
starting process that would gather speed as it drew more and more energy from
the beings in the Shadow, a maelstrom of power directly sprang into existence,
swirling in the centre of Svarta, but swiftly growing in strength, speed,
and magnitude. The nature of the Power the collective mind was using also played
an unexpected role: the Nexus is a Power that works mainly cross-Shadow, and Its
effect on the maelstrom was that it also began to affect the Shadow barriers
between Svarta and its neighbours, thus turning it into a genuine Shadow storm.
The reinforced barrier around Cardane kept it relatively safe for now, but
things were getting out of hand too rapidly, and there was nothing I could do.
The one thing I had to concentrate on now was keeping these creeps out.
As tiny drops of perspiration began to form on my brow, a small an
distant part of me was aware of Deirdre entering the room where I was sitting
and saying something about the preparations that had been made and the imminent
arrival of the expected intruders. I couldn't acknowledge her in any way, but I
did manage to tune in a bit more to her actual words.
"Don't worry," she said. "We'll take care of it. Don't be
startled by any strange effects you might witness around you, though." Nice
of her to warn me. I again focused slightly more on the barrier, yet kept a
fraction of an eye on mother's ministrations. I felt how she quickly erected a
Pattern shield around the room, careful to keep it from interfering with my own
Power weavings, though. She put a minor spell on me too, its function as yet
uncertain. This was accompanied by a number of hand gestures and some blue
flashes. Suddenly Caine entered as well and they exchanged a few words out of my
earshot. With a worried expression Caine turned to me.
"Dorian, I can't be sure if you can hear this or not, but we suspect
that Karnach may be on his way. Whatever happens here, keep up your own efforts
or all will be lost." I would have nodded to indicate my comprehension, but
I couldn't. At this point I had no control over my own body; even a simple
action like blinking required too much effort. Tears had started to stream down
from my eyes, giving me a strangely fish-eyed look of the room and everything in
it. I couldn't turn my head either, so I couldn't follow Caine or Deirdre as
they paced around. It was as if I was looking at everything through the slightly
smeared lens of a fixed camera. A rather odd and detached feeling, heightened by
the strain caused by keeping up the barrier and the anguish that resulted from
immediately witnessing the extinction of millions and millions of living
creatures. The storm was still growing outside, and its hunger seemed
insatiable.
On a much smaller level I suddenly felt a strong burst of energy hit
Deirdre's shield. Apparently this Karnach Caine had mentioned, whoever he was,
was trying to get in, and he was quite insistent. Seconds dragged by like hours
and his pressure on the shield kept increasing.
"I can't hold it," Deirdre said through clenched teeth.
"Help me!" Caine, who was standing right in front of me,
nodded and I felt him adding his power to hers. Almost immediately he
started cursing, though.
"He is too strong!" he called.
"We can't keep this up," I heard her say behind me. In quickly
exchanged terse sentences they discussed the situation, but it was clear that
they wouldn't be able to keep out the uninvited guest. Instead of waiting for
him to overwhelm them completely, they decided to drop the shield in the hope of
defeating him in a direct physical confrontation. As they were talking I felt
the Shadow storm growing and growing. It had already devoured a large part of
the army, but there was still a long way to go, and the individuals making up
the collective mind attacking the barrier, my immediate opponents, were
protecting themselves from its threat with their Power. They would be last to
go, and I would have to wait until the very end before I could try to contain
the storm.
All of a sudden the lights went out. I sensed that Deirdre's Pattern
shield was gone, and the total darkness was also the result of something she had
done. Now I learned what the little spell she had put on me was all about, for I
found that I could still see with some kind of infrared vision. Caine and
Deirdre had turned into indistinct shapes moving round the room, leaving me
uncertain who was who. From the purposeful way they paced around I concluded
that they must have put similar spells on themselves. In the pitch dark they
were waiting for Karnach to arrive.
The army was still dwindling and dwindling, each and every individual
sharply aware of what was happening to them as they were sucked up and erased by
the storm. It hurt. If I hadn't been crying already, I would have started
now. My clenched hands tightened even further, and as my nails dug deeper
into my palms I felt a wet trickle of blood begin to drip down, slowly soaking
my clothes with crimson stains as a silent witness to all the suffering. In the
darkness none would notice it. The mental battle with the hive-mind still
claimed most of my thoughts. I had found that I had a slight advantage, though,
for we were using our respective Powers as a medium for the struggle, and they
were quite a bit further removed from their source than I was. In a direct
mental confrontation I would probably already have been beaten by now.
One of the red shapes in the room, probably Deirdre, moved towards me and
placed another protective Power shield around me. Then there were two forms
directly in front of me, moving about quickly in their apparent struggle. The
shield around me muffled the sound a bit, but still I could hear the
scuffling noises and panting breaths as the two were circling each other. Not a
word was spoken, though, as they engaged and fell to the ground.
Without warning a blue flash lit up the room, revealing Caine lying on
his back with an unfamiliar man sitting astride him, trying to strangle him. To
my left I heard Deirdre hiss: "If I go and help him, you will be left
defenseless." I knew, and I wouldn't have tried to stop her, even if I
could. As the light faded again, she moved forward into my field of vision, yet
the shield remained active around me. In the dark the three combatants regained
their ruddy glow, and soon I wasn't able to tell who was who anymore. The fight
continued and I could hear the sharp metallic sounds of blades, possibly daggers
or long knives. I realized that I might well be watching the final battle of
one, if not both of my parents, and there was nothing I could do about it.
In Svarta the army was now barely half the size it had been, but that
still meant that there were literally millions of enemy soldiers to contend
with. With horified fascination I watched the storm grip one of the gigantic
hydras and within seconds reduce it to its basic energy currents to feed its
hunger. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed to roar even louder
after that. Apart from most of the army, it had by now also devoured more than
half of the neighbouring Shadows. For a moment I considered putting a stop to it
there and then, or trying to do so anyway, but I realised that this would leave
me entirely open to the hive-mind's attack. Between them and the storm I had no
choice but to keep going. However, I had the slight impression that I would be
able to hold out longer than they would, and I could only hope that the storm
could still be dealt with at that time.
A cry of pain dragged me back to the fight before my eyes. Had that been
Caine's voice? I thought so, but couldn't be sure. One of the forms was now
lying still on the floor as the remaining two continued their struggle. I
desperately tried to find something I could do to help, but there was no chance
of that. Then I suddenly felt how the shield around me winked out, and I
realised that someone was standing very close behind me. Although I sensed
something familiar about this person, there was no way of knowing who it was.
For the moment he (or she?) didn't intervene in any discernible way either, but
merely observed the struggle, just as I was doing. I expected something like a
knife in my back or a strangling cord around my neck any moment now, but nothing
happened as the seconds crawled by at a snail's pace. I couldn't even turn to
see who it was.
Suddenly a voice from somewhere behind me, calling: "Deirdre,
lights." It was Benedict. Although she was quite busy, mother found time
enough to concentrate a bit, and a second later the room was filled with light.
I saw her still engaged in combat with the stranger, both battered, bruised, and
adorned with several cuts in various places, while Caine was indeed lying there
on the ground, blood dripping from a vicious wound in his chest. There was no
telling whether he was still alive or not, but I feared the worst.
Meanwhile I had realised that the person standing directly behind me was
not Benedict; he was in fact standing again immediately behind this second
stranger, and from their postures I'd say that my Uncle had him at swordpoint or
something. Yes, I now sensed it was a man, and I had met him before, although I
still couldn't determine his true identity.
Something was shimmering at the edge of my vision, and while at first I
thought it was simply either a trick of the light or of the blurry smear caused
by my tears, the hazy spot persisted and even grew in magnitude,
becoming a whirl that turned solid until it had assumed the shape of a
young lady. I had met her before as well, and she had been one of the last
people I had thought I would see here. It was Aradia.
As soon as she had arrived, the same phenomenon that had marked her
entrance began to occur at the spot where Deirdre and the stranger were
fighting. I felt Aradia's gaze glide over me to the two people standing behind
me and finally towards my mother and her opponent, taking in the entire scene
before concentrating on that uncanny Power of hers. The distorting effect around
Deirdre and the stranger intensified, becoming some kind of portal.
"Break!" Aradia cried, but although I guessed she was
addressing Deirdre, there was no reaction. Mother had just managed to get a good
grip on her opponent, and she wasn't about to follow the lead from some unknown
girl she had never seen before. Insofar that I could make out her expression, I
saw Aradia frown and shrug, and the next thing that happened was the portal
closing itself around both the stranger and my mother, making them disappear
without a trace. Anguish and despair tore at me at the thought of once again
losing Deirdre like this, but between the hive-mind and the storm there was no
room for me to manoeuvre. I don't know why I held on at that point, though; the
overwhelming sense of losing both my parents in this ill-conceived venture
drained me of my will to live. It must have been plain, simple stubborness: if I
was going to go down as well, I would do so fighting. No whimpers, all bangs.
The room had turned oddly silent after the two combatants had
disappeared, and for a few seconds no one moved or said anything. Then I heard
the man behind me clear his throat and say in a slightly amused tone:
"Perhaps we should talk this over." Yes, I had met him before, and
that deep and authorative voice immediately took me back to that one time in
Quendor, not so long ago, when he had been posing as a member of the Lablanche
family. I guess I wasn't too surprised, what with Aradia already being here, to
find that Lothair was also somehow involved.
In the meantime the Shadow storm had grown to such incredible proportions
that it had begun to affect my mental opponents on the other side of the
barrier. Although keeping both them and the storm out still required most of my
power, I found that I had just a little bit of leeway with regard to control
over my physical body. Very slowly, very carefully, I blinked a few times,
clearing away most of the tears from my eyes. I couldn't stop crying yet,
though, but I realised that with some effort I would be able to turn my head a
bit. All very very slowly, of course, but I simply had to take a look behind me.
The others weren't paying me much attention as it was, and very gradually I
shifted my head so I could just make out Lothair with Benedict's sword
unflinchingly poised right at his throat.
"Yes, let's talk," I heard Benedict reply. "However, any
discussion would be rather awkward with this attack still in progress." I
couldn't make out his face, but I guessed that he was smiling a bit, rather
smugly too, I'd say. I saw no reason to be so content, not with Caine possibly
already dead and Deirdre vanished to parts unknown. I started turning my head
back to its former, less straining position, but I still saw Lothair nod everso
slightly, careful not to put too much pressure on the sharp blade at his throat.
"If I may?" he said.
"Well, slowly. No sudden moves."
Lothair gradually began to draw on the same Power Aradia had been using,
and I noticed how she was regarding him sharply, as if expecting him to pull
some kind of trick. She suddenly shook her head, and I heard Lothair utter a
slight gasp as Benedict's blade cut his skin, drawing just a tiny drop of blood.
He immediately stopped what he had been doing.
"That wasn't entirely what we had in mind," Benedict said.
Lothair sighed and he apparently indicated something, for Aradia moved out of my
sight towards him, reappearing only a moment later with a small deck of cards,
presumably Trumps of some kind.
"The top one," I heard Lothair say, and she started
concentrating on this card.
"This is the current situation," she said as soon as contact
had been established, nodding into our direction. "There is a proposal of
negotiations."
She listened a
moment to what was being said on the other side, then she nodded. "That
would seem a good idea," she said.
Meanwhile I was totally at a loss. Aradia was assisting Benedict? How the
hell had they gotten together? And what did Benedict know about this Power of
her and Lothair's? Too many questions, as usual, and no time and even little
inclination to ask them. Not for the first time I experienced the numbing effect
that too much exhaustion, too much emotional stress, and too many surprises can
have on one's mind. At this point the only thing I really wanted to do was curl
up and let reality wash all over me. Just give up, you know, just let them do
their worst. It wouldn't add that much to what I had already inflicted upon
myself.
But no, I couldn't. There was some spark of responsibility, something
called duty, still burning inside of me: I had sworn to protect Cardane and that
was what I would do. However, the enemy army ceasing their efforts to penetrate
the Shadow barrier only a minute or so after Aradia had made her call was merely
one of my problems solved. The other one had been created at my own instigation,
and by now it far surpassed the threat the army from Sherwyn had ever posed. If
I was to deal with this Shadowstorm in any way, though, I first had to let go of
my mental hold on Cardane. There was no doubt that this meant that my children's
home Shadow would still be faced with imminent destruction, but I had no choice:
this storm had at least to be contained before it would wreak even more havoc. I
could only pray that I would be able to impose some kind of restraints on it
before Cardane would be damaged beyond repair.
Forgetting all about my physical surroundings - the room, Benedict and
Lothair, Aradia, Caine - I launched my mind out into the whirlwind of power. It
was an absolute nightmare of negative force, destruction given form in the shape
of this all-devouring maelstrom. And worst of all, it seemed to have a purpose
to it. As my mind drew closer and frantically scanned the surging torrents of
power, I was horrified to find something looking back at me: something hungry,
no, ravenous, something that found glee in the path of destruction it tore
across the already blasted terrain of Shadow around it, something that wanted to
grow and grow and grow beyond all possible, imaginable bounds. Something that
regarded me and with unearthly voice called me Maker. Disgusted I drew back, but
it would not let me go. We had been linked, it and I, and would remain so if I
didn't do something. In creating this nightmare I had truly become the destroyer
of worlds.
There was only one chance and it was a slim one at that: I had to impose
pure order on it. The storm had been created as a result of the stabilizing
forces of the Pattern leaking away from Svarta, as I had originally engineered,
and now I had to implement these same forces on it once again. Actually,
I realised that I did have a choice after all, albeit a limited one. The more
cautious approach would have me try to contain the storm in the area it
currently occupied, erecting borders of Power around it to keep it from growing
any further. This would mean, however, that it would continue to exist, and it
must be said that it had already grown larger than I would ever have wanted it
to grow. And then there was the more dangerous solution. I could try to reverse
the entire process that had created this monster by means of one immensely
strong bolt of Pattern energy that would allow me to redirect its currents, thus
making it turn upon itself until it devoured its own tail. This would have to be
as powerful a discharge as possible, and it would have to be unleashed right
into the heart of the storm, so there was a considerable risk to my own person
in choosing this course of action. If I were to be just a fraction too late or
if it somehow sensed my true intentions, I would be in danger of getting sucked
into the fray myself, my mind just a meagre little snack for the ravenous beast.
Still, I had created it, so it was my responsibility. At the moment there was
yet a chance of controlling it; if it grew any larger, it might well prove
unstoppable. So, with new determination I dove into the tempest to take my best
shot.
The eye of the storm was strangely calm, yet it was also the place where
I was closest to its consciousness, so to speak. It didn't fear my presence
there, though; in fact, it delighted in it, and I realised that it thought I
would join it in its destructive undertaking. It sensed my darker side, my
negative destructive self, and started invoking it even further, seeing it as
its own reflection in me, its creator. Every kind of negative emotion flooded
through me: anger, despair, distrust, self-hatred, sadism, masochism, apathy,
every sickening little feeling that would have me crave for an end to
everything, there and then. I tried to fight it, of course, but I had to
concentrate too much on bringing the storm to an end to put up much of a
struggle. That wasn't my only handicap, though, for this earlier feeling of
wanting to curl up and die returned with a vengeance. What was I thinking,
believing that I could still strive for some kind of happy ending? The best
thing I could achieve, the best thing I could ever hope for was to limit the
damage I had done and quietly pass away, unloved and unmourned.
With these fatalistic thoughts circling my brain I unleashed my Pattern
upon the storm and began to force it to my will. My actions took it completely
by surprise, leaving me just enough room to set the reversal process in motion.
Once it got going, there was no way for the monster to avert its own
destruction, and it could do nothing but roar at me in impotent rage. However,
its anger fired my negative side even further, bringing my mind closer and
closer to catastrophe.
Suddenly there was a stirring, and from deep down the old Dorian, the
cheerful, trusting, careless one, began to raise his defenses. Too little, too
late. Every positive feeling that was invoked, every happy memory that was
recalled was immediately countered by the inevitable negative emotions that were
connected to them, the ones that had left the deeper scars.
Amber: city of my youth, home, most beautiful place in Reality... Simply
a breeding ground for betrayal and mistrust, not a true friend there to be
found.
Adrian: cousin, who had offered me his friendship when we had started out
on our adventures... Whose friendship had slowly deteriorated, a process for
which both of us were to blame, until the point where he had sent this army
towards Cardane that would mark my final destruction.
Fiona: aunt, mentor, in a way my surrogate mother, perhaps even a
friend... And never to be trusted, always wanting to use me to her own ends,
only valueing me as the dutiful pawn I was.
Murlas: my brother, though not a friend, still an associate, someone who
could be trusted upon to do his part within certain boundaries... Someone who
could be trusted upon to murder innocents for the sake of something he called
honour, a concept that was as meaningless to him as that of love or trust
itself.
All those different people who had been my lovers: Suzanne, Rosala,
Fanya, Keral, all those many others... And none of them really caring for me,
none of them the soulmate that would have kept me sane, none of them capable of
real love.
Wylde: the one who had been closer, my true companion, mother of my
children... The one who ultimately had chosen her people over me, who had broken
with me for the sake of one Shadow.
The children themselves: little Laura, Dennis, Rowena, Vilcon, Nicholas,
and Miri, the promise for the future and the joy of my life... A joy marred by
the imminent infliction of the Curse upon their lives, and a future that would
see them travel the same route of betrayal and pain and lost innocence that I
had and that would scar me again and again and again.
Vilcon: my father, the one who had cared for me when I was young, the one
who would always be there, whose house would always be a haven for me... Never
my real father, our whole life together one big lie.
Diana: my daughter and one-time lover, the one who perhaps understood me
best of all... The one whose life was a complete wreck partly, no, mainly
because of the choices I had made, whose sanity dangled by a gossamer threat,
forever threatened by the Curse.
Deirdre: my mother, lost and found, the one to help me in my hour of
need... The one who only had me to get rid of the Curse and who by doing so
effectively ruined my life, the one who wouldn't let me get too close to her for
fear of becoming too attached and showing weakness, the one who might now once
again be lost, perhaps forever.
Caine: my true father, in many ways still a mystery, but willing to make
a commitment and there by my side when I needed him... The nigh-murderer of my
daughter, the one whose secretive distrust had had me engage in an
incestuous affair with this same daughter and had had me have six
additional children who were as surely doomed as their sister, the one who was
even more afraid of showing his true feelings than my mother, the one I would
never be able to get close to.
As if from the bottom of a great deep pit I regarded my life and found it
wanting. I had spiralled down and down till I could go no further, and now there
seemed to be no way of climbing out again. The storm was subsiding, yet there
was still a noise ringing in my ears that simply wouldn't go away. After a few
moments I realised that it was my own quiet sobbing. Somewhere in the confines
of a small dwelling in Shadow Cardane my body still sat rigidly upright, blood
still flowing from the self-inflicted cuts in my hands, tears still streaming
from my eyes. Everso slowly I became aware of the silent watching forms of
Benedict, Lothair, and Aradia, keeping their distance and regarding me with
expressions ranging from worry to fascination. I wondered how much time had
passed and how much I had left before the end would come. When the storm died
down completely, my fate would be sealed, one way or the other.
A sudden movement drew my gaze and for a moment I couldn't believe my
eyes: it was Caine, sitting up awkwardly from his earlier prone position on the
floor, leaning on one weak arm. For once his carefully maintained mask of ice
had cracked, revealing the mixed apprehension and, yes, love with which he
regarded me. The sound of my sobbing must have roused him from his dark slumber.
My father loved me. My father loved me and he wasn't going to die.
And neither was I.
Fuelled by this unexpected show of emotion I made one final effort, and
this time despair had no answer. This was stronger than my deepest hopes, and it
ignited a overwhelming feeling of love in me that launched me out of my pit into
the higher reaches of my mind, just at the moment the tempest blew its final
breath and ceased to be. The tears of anguish, rage, and despair turned to tears
of joy, and through them I could see some kind of soft orange glow that
surrounded my entire body. As I blinked and watched more closely, I felt a surge
of energy sweep through me and the glow intensified, reaching out, touching
everyone in the room, then dissipating.
For the first time I felt like I had complete control over my body again.
I streched my arms and legs, and to my surprise I found that while I was tired,
exhausted even, it was a kind of mellow exhaustion, the kind of warm glowing
feeling that one gets after a day of simple hard work. I glanced at my hands to
see that the blood had already dried and the cuts had completely been healed.
Something had changed in me, I sensed, yet I couldn't say exactly what it
was. One thing I knew, though: it was something that had changed for the
better.