The Final Redemption Read online

  Karenth chuckled, “No. In fact I’ve noticed an increase in the aythar I’m receiving now, probably as a result of the increased activity.”

  “That makes no sense. Why would he help you?”

  “If it is him, he may not care. My power is vastly diminished now. It would take decades, if not longer, to restore what you took from me. Nor would he be worried about my siblings. His strength is far beyond ours now.” Karenth paused for a moment, searching for words before continuing, “Have you ever seen a cat, once it has caught a mouse or bird? I think this may be something similar.”

  As usual, it seemed the only news was bad news. “Do you know where my family is currently?”

  “You did not instruct me to observe them,” he answered with some reticence.

  In fact I had forgotten to give him that command, but I was familiar with his intellect. “Answer the question.”

  “I do not know, but they left your house after the lunch hour. I cannot say when they will return, though I suspect that it is only a short outing,” he admitted.

  “In future try to anticipate my needs better, even if I don’t give you explicit instructions,” I ordered.

  Karenth looked down. “I can only act as you command.”

  His reply irritated me. “Don’t give me that!” I snarled. “I know exactly how intelligent you are, and I expect you to exercise that intellect on my behalf. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, my lord,” he acquiesced.

  I watched him carefully for a moment, thinking. “Don’t think to obey my words and disobey my intentions,” I told him. “Your fate is tied to mine now and things could be much worse for you than they are already.”

  He answered me with a blank stare.

  Leaning in closely I whispered, “I have your maker’s memories. I know exactly how that enchantment that holds you together works, and if I don’t think you’re living up to your potential, I might decide to alter it. The possibilities are much more varied than hoping I will unmake you, or betting on an eternity as you are, if I fail. You could spend eons broken and worthy only of pity.”

  The fallen god’s eyebrow twitched for a moment. “Do you think your people would admire you for such cruelty?”

  “I haven’t forgotten the people who died when you attacked my home,” I snarled back.

  Karenth smirked. “Point taken. I would also add that you seem to be adapting to immortality very quickly.”

  His words struck me like a hammer, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me hesitate. “Go. I’ll meet you here tomorrow to find out what else you’ve learned. Bring writing implements, I may need to send another letter.” So saying, I turned my back on him and walked away.

  ***

  This time when I teleported into my house I was expecting trouble. My main concern, that my family might be home, was already covered. My second concern, that Sir Egan or one of the other knights might be waiting for me, wasn’t really an issue any longer.

  The attack came even sooner than the last time, before I even had a chance to get my bearings. The enchanted blade struck my left shoulder, heading in a downward direction. If I hadn’t been wearing the armor, it would have removed both my head and right arm. Because I was wearing armor, I instead bore the brunt of the attack as a powerful downward shock on my shoulder, threatening to drive me from my feet.

  I managed to stay upright but immediately found my right leg swept from beneath me as my armored opponent moved with blinding speed. His sword altered course, shifting as he spun with his leg sweep, changing from a second swing to a directed thrust. It came in with lightning precision, tearing through the chainmail at my armpit, one of the few places not covered in actual plate. It sank smoothly in, ripping through bone, muscle and organs, until the point emerged on the opposite side.

  Son of a bitch! He’s fast, I thought, as my mind struggled to keep up with current events. My opponent had attacked with inhuman speed, and within a split second altered his strategy to account for my plate armor. If I had been human, or even another Knight of Stone, I would have already been dead. Thankfully, I’m no longer human, I noted with a sense of irony. It was probably the first time I had ever been grateful for the fact.

  My own speed and reflexes were much greater now, not that I had much skill in using them. I managed to grab the defender’s wrist, locking his arm, and the sword it held, safely in place. A blade through my chest wasn’t really much of a problem for me. Having my armor removed and my body cut into sections; that would have been a problem. I grinned inside my helm as I finally realized which of my knights was working so efficiently to destroy me.

  “Cyhan!” I greeted him, even as I held his arm still. My own strength was now greater than his, and for a split second I entertained the notion that I might have a chance to explain my situation to him.

  I hadn’t factored in the man’s uncanny tenacity, or his ability to react near instantly to changing battle conditions. He said a word while gripping the sword tightly, not in an effort to remove it from my chest, but to keep it in place as the Sun-Sword’s fire erupted within me.

  The world exploded for a moment as the flames raged through the inside of my armor, shooting outward from the joints and even filling my helm. Chaos and pain assailed me before I finally found my balance. The fire was channeled through an enchantment, so I wasn’t able to absorb or control it, but that scarcely mattered. I was power incarnate now. My ravaged flesh healed more quickly than the fire could burn, and where the two contested, light spilled from my wounds like liquid gold.

  I laughed madly, a feeling of near insanity creeping over me as I realized my initial fear had been pointless. Cyhan never relented in his attack, and I admired his determination. The realization that his best effort was having little to no effect had to be unsettling, yet he never stopped or tried to escape. Even a man as conditioned to battle as he was, had to be experiencing fear now.

  Rising I kept his sword hand firmly in my grip while I used my other hand to lift him bodily, until he was nearly above my head. It was a shame I had to kill him. My face was locked in a rictus grin inside my helm, and despite the thought, I was filled with an exhilarating sense of power. I would crush him.

  With a casual pull I jerked his arm free from the sword, and I felt one of the bones in his forearm snap at the sudden violence. Then I lifted him completely, preparing to drive him headfirst into the stone wall. His armor could protect him from almost anything, but I knew I had the strength to break it. I had the power to do almost anything. He was battering at me now, struggling to tear himself free, but even with his earth-bond his blows were futile. With his feet off the ground, he had no leverage, and my own power had blossomed around me, anchoring me in place.

  I surged forward, my power driving me like some terrible juggernaut. It was time to end it.

  No!

  The voice was a mental scream, emerging from somewhere deep within. It sounded like my own, but I knew it wasn’t me. It came from the dark core that resided at my center. The timing caused me to hesitate at the last instant, robbing my charge of some of its power. Even so, Cyhan was driven into the wall with incredible force, and the point of impact was at his shoulder instead of his head. One of his pauldrons cracked, and the wall itself collapsed. I released his now limp body and stared down at it.

  He was probably dead, and for a moment I couldn’t have cared less.

  I have to check! This isn’t the sort of man I am, dead or not.

  My inner-self was getting to be rather irritating, but I had to agree. My behavior was not normal. I had never been so ruthless, so uncaring. I made my helm permeable to aythar, improving my magesight so that I could see him properly with all of my senses. His heart was beating, though he was unconscious, probably a concussion, definitely a broken collar bone, broken forearm, dislocated hip, and a variety of bruises…

  “Or in Cyhan’s terminology, ‘Tuesday’,” I noted dryly. The comment surprised me and I began to ch
uckle. It was too bad my friend wasn’t conscious to appreciate the humor. It was one of the few jokes he might have connected with.

  Although the jest was thoroughly inappropriate and probably showed a lack of empathy, it was much more in keeping with my normal demeanor. Maybe I haven’t gone completely mad yet.

  “Sorry about the injuries old friend,” I said aloud. “Nothing personal.” Then I picked my way through the rubble and out of the room. I had a lot to accomplish, and I wasn’t entirely certain how I would manage everything.

  My magesight, now unimpeded by the helm, had already told me that the house was empty, except for the unconscious body of my friend. There’s a relief. Maybe I can avoid killing or maiming anymore people from my former life.

  Rather than waste time, I headed directly for my goal, the chamber below the house, where Lyralliantha lay. She was the key to both of my problems, fulfilling Illeniel’s Promise and putting a stop to Mal’goroth. As the last remaining She’Har, I hoped she would have the knowledge necessary to bring Mal’goroth to heel. My extensive memories had confirmed that the Dark Gods had been created, in a very similar fashion to the Shining Gods, but I still could not find the knowledge that would show me how to control them.

  Even if I did, it might be impossible for me to use it. While the Shining Gods were created using a special enchantment, the Dark Gods had been constructed around a type of spell-weaving, one very similar to the one that now kept me alive. No human had ever been able to use their magic, although it had been the inspiration for the human art of enchanting.

  I needed Lyralliantha to stop Mal’goroth. I could only hope that she wasn’t too bitter about how long it had taken her lover’s descendants to get around to fulfilling the promise.

  Descending the final set of stairs to the stone door, I suffered a moment of panic as I wondered what I would do if the door were shut. I had been able to open it before only because of my family identity and my ability as an archmage. I no longer met either of those requirements.

  I hadn’t closed the door, so it should still be open, unless it automatically closed after some set period of time. If it had closed, I would have to use my power to rip the very foundations of my house apart to get inside.

  My magesight still saw only the illusion of solid stone as I approached, but once my physical eyes were able to see it, I breathed a sigh of relief. The doorway yawned wide before me, just as I had left it.

  I entered without pausing, and I felt better once I knew I was within the illusion. The chamber would cloak my presence much better than the armor I wore. Nothing had changed inside the circular room. Lyralliantha still lay in the stone sarcophagus at its center—waiting.

  I felt a palpable tension rising around me as I drew closer to look inside. The sensation was new, something I hadn’t encountered during my first visit, as though the air had been charged with static electricity.

  Lyralliantha still looked as lovely as she had the last time I had been there. Silver hair and smooth skin that were somehow still accented by the white gown she wore. My goal was less than an arm’s length away now, with only one obstacle barring me from accomplishing my purpose—Thillmarius’ spell-weaving.

  On my first visit I had uttered the command phrase that should have released her from the stasis enchantment but the She’Har lorewarden’s magic had prevented it from working. I had to remove that before I could undo my many times removed great grandfather’s enchantment.

  I leaned in, focusing my senses more precisely, trying to study the alien magic that overlay the human enchantment. Despite the knowledge that the loshti had granted me, the structure of the She’Har symbols twisted and connected in ways that defied human logic. I could interpret their meaning individually, but understanding their whole, their context, was beyond me.

  “And that’s why he invented enchanting, because only one of the tree people could possibly understand that tangled crap!” I muttered testily. The feeling of tension in the air increased noticeably as I moved closer. Something pulsed inside me.

  Standing still, I turned my senses inward, trying to understand the interplay between the magic inside me, and the magic around Lyralliantha Illeniel. It made no sense at first, until I recognized the convergence in the patterns that composed the two spell-weavings. The one wrapped around my grandfather’s enchantment was complementary to the one that anchored my spirit to the realm of the living. They were both created by the same evil bastard after all, I noted.

  The memory of my ancestor’s battle with Thillmarius told me that the two had been created at very nearly the same time, possibly even simultaneously. Thillmarius had locked her stasis to prevent anyone else from freeing her, and at the same time protected himself from the vengeance of her husband. Fat lot of good it did him, though. He wound up burned to ash. Remembering that made me smile; my own battle with Thillmarius had ended in a much less satisfactory manner, even if it had been more permanent.

  No amount of examination would allow me to understand what I was seeing however, so I decided to experiment by climbing up onto the sarcophagus, attempting to bring the two spell-weavings closer together.

  My efforts were rewarded with a surge of energy, and I felt the spell-weaving that was wrapped around the wellspring of my life begin to move. At the same time, the one that encased Lyralliantha began to come loose—they were moving together. A sudden fear gripped me, and I leapt away before the two pieces of magic could come into contact.

  When they come together they’ll cancel each other. Lyralliantha will no longer be trapped, and my spirit will be free of his curse. I took a moment to consider the ramifications. My soul would be set free, and find itself in a dead body. As an archmage, it might have been possible to restore my body to its former state, but not if I was already adrift and sinking into the void. All of that completely ignored the fact that currently I no longer seemed to possess my abilities as an archmage.

  There was also the problem of all the aythar I now contained. Once the spell-weaving that anchored and contained me was gone, that energy would be released. My normal self couldn’t possibly control it, and the fact that I would be in the middle of dying would only add to the confusion. I’ll blow Albamarl off the map. Historians would have to rename the region, ‘The Sea of Lothion’. For some reason that thought brought another strange giggle to my lips. I was definitely becoming slightly unhinged.

  I spent the next quarter of an hour considering the possibilities before making up my mind. Drawing out the link I had brought from the Iron Heart Chamber I began channeling power into it. Before I could do anything risky, I’d have to reduce my aythar to a level that was close to my normal living level.

  The process took several hours. I attempted to rush it at first, but the iron link began to glow red hot as I steadily overloaded its capacity to transfer power. To avoid an inadvertent explosion, I had to slow down. It seemed ironic that I was forced to surrender the power so soon after taking it, not to mention being a serious test of my patience.

  Though I worried that Penny or the others would return before I finished, the house was still empty when I had finished my preparations. Apparently not all my luck is bad.

  I stood at the edge of the sarcophagus now, having serious doubts about my proposed plan of action. This will be the end of me, and Mal’goroth will still be free. You can’t even be sure she’ll have a way to deal with him. What if you’re wrong? Then again, maybe I was tired of trying to solve every problem myself. “Someone else will have to save the world next time. I’m retiring,” I announced to the empty room.

  I climbed up and levered myself into position above the She’Har woman. I would have to lower myself into the sarcophagus with her to make sure the two spell-weavings came into contact. The image of my body lying next to that of the beautiful Lyralliantha sprang into my mind. What if Penny finds me like that? It isn’t going to look good. Perhaps I should have written a note?

  “It would have been nice to have spent my last da
y thinking intelligent thoughts, but clearly that was never going to happen,” I told myself. Then I lowered myself into the stone box.

  The reaction was immediate, and I felt the spell-weavings begin to unwind, melding and dissolving as they merged. My body grew heavy, while my spirit felt a contradictory sensation of incredible lightness, a shadow had been lifted. My vision grew dim as I looked down at Lyralliantha and realized that the stasis enchantment was still intact. It took a supreme effort of will to make my dead lips form the words, “Your husband waits for your return… and your forgiveness.”

  The stasis enchantment vanished, and my body dropped a few inches, settling awkwardly over hers, once the magic that preserved her no longer held me up. I worried I might smother her but the power to move my limbs was no longer mine. My body was dead, wooden, and I was drifting.

  The dark shadow that had surrounded me for so long was gone. The veil had lifted, and the voices of wind and earth were louder than ever, welcoming me like old friends. Louder still though, was the song of death, a dissonant hum that no longer seemed foreign. It tugged at me, drawing me away in a new direction. The void beckoned and I had no strength to resist.

  Maybe I’ll get to see Marc, I thought idly.

  Chaos erupted around me then, a turbulence that disturbed everything, like the ocean on a stormy day. I found myself tossed about, and the darkness that had settled over me was now punctuated by light and occasional bits of color. Vibrant blue eyes seemed to stare at me and I felt another force struggling to change the direction my spirit was taking.

  I should’ve known dying wouldn’t be easy.

  The battle seemed to take forever, and I had little control over it. Something strong had me in its grip and was determined not to release me. Eventually I began to sense things around me, things from the physical world. The voice of the earth returned and above me I could see a woman gazing at me with eyes of electric blue—eyes like my own. Her hands trailed sparkling lines of magic in a variety of blues and golds, She’Har spell-weaving.