FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 11: Back to Shadow

King Besegrare had given up, his frustration great and his sense of loss greater. He and his wolves were well on their way home. When Vacka heard the news, he felt that he should be overjoyed. That wolf's meddling soldiers had not been a real fear, but the nuisance had been great.

He shouldn't have been surprised -- Inthil had been one of the bigger cities in the king's realm; it would have been doubtful that he could attack it and not provoke the king's response. And had he really killed all those beasts who lived in Inthil? The slaughter already felt like ages ago, but he remembered raising his hands and commanding the dead to move. He didn't remember exactly why or how he'd started, and his whole memory of the event was covered in a thick fuzz. How often was he in control, and how often was it that nameless god? Then, as with tonight, he had awoken stiff on the tomb in that place between places, and the nameless god came crawling into his body to take his place. And then he had awoken again in the land of the living. It was disorienting, and he knew that he had done great evil against his will; but if this was what stood between him and his goals, so be it. He could deal with anything, could even share his body. Could even share the weight of that nameless god's responsibilities. But it was getting harder and harder to deal with it all when the god seemed no closer to granting him what he'd asked for.

This time, he'd awoken back home in the Kvalsdimm. What would that king say if he knew how close he stood now to Gryning? No doubt he'd have been surprised at the speed of his travel, carried underground by the hands of the dead. But Besegrare was not here, and Vacka was alone.

A bitter wind blew past him, whistling through trees, lifting his fur, his robes. His yellow eyes twinkled. And he thought, You have not always been this way. You have not. And what happened to you? Vacka yearned to return to the days of his youth, to undo that moment when his life had changed. When did death first enter your life?

His hands were pressed against the gnarled grey bark of one of the trees. The fingers twitched, and for a moment he pondered whether or not he would call upon his strength. Could he do it, and would it really be her? Could he really bring her out of the ground and back into life? He didn't doubt that. The power he held gave him great dominion over the dead, but not over their souls. The thing that lay in the dirt beneath him was just a body. Just a piece of old dead flesh fueling those knotted roots. It would never be her again.

And so he traveled once more the interminable corridor of darkness to the chamber of death, where the Slumbering Shadow waited. The nameless god studied him from atop its tomb.

"My mother," Vacka hissed.

The great decaying beast lifted its head from the tomb, and the wolfish smile that crossed its lips filled him with dread, for it almost looked alive. Vacka had to steady his voice to talk again.

"You see every beast who crosses this threshold. Do you remember her?"

"Oh yes. I remember every face and every name."

The nameless god settled back on doomed haunches and lifted its arms. It had no eyes in those sockets, but it saw right through him. It made him tremble every time.

"You must bring her back. Surely you have the power," Vacka said.

"Don't be fooled, boy. No beast possesses the power of which you speak!" It fell back upon the tomb and lowered its head. When it spoke next, it spoke with the slow deliberation of years. "There was once one who thought she possessed that power. When the body dies, the soul must pass on. There is no returning to the world of the living. There never has been."

"Liar," Vacka said. His chest heaved. How dare it speak to him like this? How dare it pretend not to know? The secrets of death were known by none but that Slumbering Shadow, and now for the first time it refused to help. And why?

"You would be wise to remember your audience, foolish one," the rotting form lifted itself higher. "I do not suffer impudence long, nor do I tolerate insubordination."

"I won't accept that. You speak of one who possessed that power, or at least believed she did. Tell me where I may find her. If you won't help me, she will."

The thing licked its lips with a tongue that hung ragged from its mouth, torn flesh dragging and catching on sharp teeth. A booming laugh filled the chamber.

"The one you seek is long dead herself. And her power brings nothing but misery," the hollow eye sockets glowed brightly, filling with a bright light and spilling forth grey mist. The fog filled the whole room slowly, drifting out into the edges of eternity. "She never found the power, and ended up lived a life of despair. But in her own troubled way, she found what she was looking for. The sweet taste of death, at the end of a blade."

It smiled, and the black and bloodied teeth moved with minds of their own.

"Would that I could join her. But death is not in my future, nor life. Only the endless guiding of souls."

Vacka turned, his white robes whipping around and disturbing the mists. He began to walk away in haste.

"I don't need your help for this," he said.

"Foolish one!" it replied, "You will find nothing but pain!"

"Perhaps, and perhaps not."

But he was already gone. Vacka opened his eyes and beheld once more the trees of the forest, the soft loamy soil of the grove. He fell to his knees and wept for the first time in many seasons. He wept until every drop was drained from his body, till every poisonous thought and feeling was gone. Then he sat quite calmly and took a breath to compose himself. A plan had taken root, and he knew what he would do. He would bring her back, no matter what that foul thing said.

He would do it. All he needed was time.

He thought he might find what he was looking for in Himmel. Himmel was a holy place, and there might be something there, something that could help him conquer the dark with the power of Flame. There was, however, no chance that the god called his master would grant him the power to travel there - it would become wise to his plans, and he thought it might try to devour his body and soul at once. He would avoid that nameless god, for last time he'd seen it its empty eyes had looked eager, its shadow teeth sharp.

So he travelled on foot to Skugga.

It was hardly a day's journey from the grove, and he walked the distance happily. This was where he'd run as a pup, these were the trees he knew in his youth. He didn't feel so young anymore. The village where he'd been born was only a little ways to the East. But he wasn't heading that way. He kept his eyes focused on the line between the trunks, heading towards the horizon.

Skugga rose from the treetops like a monument to the night sky. Its black stones emerged from the stars only as he got close. They blended into that background so well that he could hardly see it, even when he stood directly at the base of the door.

It was silent. But of course; the tower Skugga had only ever had one master, the sorcerer Karthat, and that master had been killed months ago. Vacka had personally seen to that matter.

He'd been Karthat's pupil the past six years. In ending that bond, however, he'd become bonded to another master. And while the god was more worthy of his time than Karthat could ever be, he'd learned much about sorcery while he was here. Karthat had been a source of great pain, too, and had regularly subjected the sorcerer to petty tortures and bodily abuse.

Murdering Karthat was the only time he'd ever used his own hands to kill, and he remembered the weight of that knife, the resistance of flesh. Never would he forget the fear in the old wolf's eyes as he plunged the blade down, severing flesh and fur. It had been a sacrifice to that nameless god, whose domain he'd first discovered while dwelling in Skugga. It had been his greatest lesson concerning sorcery thus far. The pagan had known nothing of the miracles of life or death, and he had put his faith in Ancient Powers. There was certainly some power in what he'd taught, but only the pagans trusted the immortals.

"Before Valenthi," he had said, "The world was in the sway of Ancient Powers. Things like life and death had no name, nor disaster, or prosperity. The only truth was chaos. And those forces still rule, and that truth remains. No matter what your precious gods believe or the people who follow them. There is nothing in life or death but chaos, ruled by the immortals."

And yet you died like any other, Vacka mused.

He shuddered off the years of mistreatment and abuse as he stepped into Skugga's entry hall. The old stairs were still there. They were weathered stone steps that lead up into kitchens and store rooms and study halls. Somewhere up there were his old chambers, and at the very top was the observatory, where he'd made that first sacrifice. He would not go there. His former master's body yet remained in that room, along with whatever spirits had been released upon his death.

The stairs also lead down. A deep library waited at the bottom of the spiral. It took several minutes to make one's way down. It wasn't just the depth of the library, but the difficulty in the descent. The steps were small and there was no rail on the side, so that looking down you could see a dizzying drop into the dark. The abyss loomed always on your side when you went down, so that Vacka found himself pressing himself against the wall. A torch or candle was necessary to navigate the way down, for some of the steps were missing, and one misstep would send you down into the plunge.

Vacka gulped, found a torch, then made his careful descent.

There were more steps missing than he remembered, and more spiders too. It took just as much courage to enter that place as it took dexterity, for a heavy evil shroud blanketed the lower chambers. He could feel himself pushing through that palpable darkness, feel it clinging to his fingers and elbows, to his muzzle and his tail. He pressed on, ignoring the sensations, and eventually made his way to the bottom.

Into the library.

There was no antechamber. Where the steps ended, he found himself in a massive room, the walls distant on all sides. Great columns rose every hundred meters in that darkness, and he carefully lit them as he traversed the pitch black air. It was very dank in the library, and no wind ever seemed to stir. But there was a feeling always of being watched. By what, he never knew. Eyes of spirits far older than any he'd ever known seemed to look furtively out from between shelves, and he sometimes thought he caught a glimpse of them. But they were always at a distance, always around corners, and sometimes he heard their quick flitting footsteps beating a hasty retreat.

Finally he found what he was looking for. The volume bore no words on its cover or spine, but opening it revealed a great wealth of hidden knowledge. And he had what he needed. He took the book to a desk and lit a nearby sconce; ignoring the quiet whispers all around, he immersed himself in those ancient worlds.

He heard a wind whistle behind him, but he'd expected as much. When he was down here, he could almost believe what that old sorcerer had told him about Ancient Powers. It was nothing unusual to feel a presence down here. Vacka knew that the best course of action was to ignore it. His ears perked up when he felt the deep sense of malice, of dread. He'd not felt this, even when he spoke with the Slumbering Shadow, even when he pushed through the envelope to enter this library. The force he felt now was something far worse.

Vacka turned.

Something wsa emerging from the blackness of that space. A form -- something not tangible, yet huge and filling the space. Something imposing. He couldn't see an outline, but knew it was there. And then the eyes opened, glowing with a thousand thousand colors.

"Ashes," Vacka muttered, standing so quickly he knocked over his chair. "What... What are you?"

It didn't laugh, like the Slumbering Shadow, and it didn't speak. It's voice entered his head of its own will, without any visible mouth moving. Yet he heard it clear as anything.

"Do you not know me, young one? Have you no respect for the immortal powers of your world?"

"Immortal powers?" Vacka was unsure what to say, what to think. What is this thing? He wanted to get away from it. Whatever it was was immensely powerful, and he knew he couldn't fight it. But he had to try. He didn't wait for the thing to respond, but instead challenged it:

"Heed my words, shade. I am a sorcerer of immense power -- fiends like you have no control over me!"

"Brave, brave words," the shadow said. "All you little beasts are so brave, for such short-lived creatures. Yet you misplace your bravery."

"I'm warning you."

"No, young one, I am warning you. Where do you think your power comes from?"

"You seem to know a good deal about my powers -- why don't you tell me where it comes from?"

"I think you know the answer to that, mortal."

What did that mean? Is it trying to tell me something? Vacka raised his hands and spread them outward.

"My power is drawn from one of the ancient gods, Kethke, the Slumbering Shadow. My allegiances are with that god, and its allegiances are with me. Come no closer, or we will crush you!"

He knew not where the name had come from -- Kethke -- for the god had never named itself, nor had he read its name. It sprang unbidden to his mind, a curious nugget of knowledge, as if it had always been there and only now unearthed. Not the nameless god, but Kethke. Kethke the Slumbering Shadow.

"Poor child, where do you think Kethke gets her power? She is not so special a god as you might think. Her only success in life was failure, for she failed even to be born alive. She has no real power of her own."

"Of course she has power," Vacka said. Until now he'd never thought of the god as a she, only an it. He thought somehow it would change his opinion about her. It didn't. "I've seen that power with my own two eyes. I've felt it within me."

"What you felt was mine. Channeled through the old god, yes, and then into you."

Could that be true? Perhaps. It wasn't impossible, or he couldn't think of any way to disprove it. He decided to play along for now. Somehow he got the sense that he had no choice. He thought that he recognized the identity of the thing with which he spoke.

"Very well," Vacka said. "Maybe you're telling the truth. What do you want?"

"Mortal," it spoke, low like the groaning of trees, the shudder of falling icebergs."Do you know my name?"

"Rheuhl," Vacka said, and tensed. He knew it was true. Rheuhl was the one only spoken of in sermons and nightmares. But that Rheuhl had been a thing of fiction, a metaphor to represent evil. Was it possible that this thing was real?

"You're not totally stupid, then."

The eyes in the darkness didn't blink -- they didn't have any need -- and they glided around him in a circle.

"Vacka," it spoke, voice soft as thunder. "I have a task for you. Not a simple task, or easy, for a mortal."

"Well?"

"So brash! Perhaps you will manage, after all." Vacka didn't think it was capable of smiling, but he felt a new sensation. A glee had been added to the malice. "Kethke has outlived her usefulness. Don't you think so?"

"She won't help me," Vacka admitted.

"Ahh, yes. She can think of nobeast but herself. Such is the life of a forgotten god. She is lonely."

"She's weak," Vacka said.

"And yet you still call upon her for power."

"She's the only power I have."

"I know why you're here, Vacka."

"You do?"

"You want to kill her, don't you?"

To this Vacka made no response. He cast his gaze downward.

"Yes, I thought that's what you wanted. I could feel it. Can't you? Intent to kill. Hatred. Wrath. It flows through you. Yes, yes... You've already committed great atrocities in her name, haven't you?"

"That was her," Vacka said. "I didn't want to... I didn't want to destroy those cities."

"Yet you did."

"It was her! She took over my body. She commanded me to move, and I was helpless to fight back."

"And you were okay with it?"

"A small price to pay. I can give my body up from time to time, if she helps me achieve my goals."

"Yet you were unsatisfied."

"Twice she commanded my body to go on rampages. Her bloodlust is immense, and I was her outlet for it. But now that she's had her fun a few times, she's still not granting me what I want."

"And you thought you could kill her, solve your problem?"

"I read... I read that if you kill a god, you can gain their power."

"A half-truth. But not a total lie. If you killed Kethke, her bond to me would be severed. I would be free to devote my power to a new beast, a new god."

"You're saying--"

"Oh yes," Rheuhl drew back into the shadows. "I can teach you what you need to know. Whatever you want. But not while Kethke stands in the way. The choice is yours, child."

Vacka stood still, but only for a moment. Kethke had failed him. The Slumbering Shadow was useless to him now. He righted the chair that he'd knocked over earlier, and pushed it back into the desk. Then he followed the fading trail of light that leaked from behind Rheuhl's eyes, into the depths of the dark library.

When finally he had learned everything, he made the climb back up out of the library and left the oppressive black stones of the tower. His journeying wasn't yet over, and he finally called upon his powers to travel. Kethke had been somewhat mollified by Vacka's presence, for she craved attention, and had been alone in her chamber.

"Sil?" she had said. "What need have you to travel there? It is a tiny village in the foothills, and it bears a cursed name. I cannot imagine you will find anything of worth in Sil."

"All the same, to Sil I must go," Vacka said.

Kethke made no response, but in the real world Vacka felt the ground separate beneath him. All air was sucked from his body as the dead pulled him below. Life left him. For a time he was as the dead, and felt nothing, no breath in his lungs or beat in his heart. There was an endless pressure on his chest. One minute became two, then ten, then an eternity, and when it was more than he could bear, he felt life fill him.

Life! How precious, and how he understood it better than anyone. He knew he could do what he had to do, and would restore life to she who'd lost it, so long ago.

Nobody in Sil noticed the thin black wolf who sat in the corner of the inn. None of them could remember his entering, but if pressed about it, they'd say he'd always been sitting there. Before they'd come in. They thought little of him, even when he suddenly stood and left. But his white robes were curious, for no beast they'd seen wore robes that color, even in the Order.

But by the time he'd left they had already forgotten him, and he was gone from the village by sundown.