Maze Of Time
Lonewolf decided to run the way. It was important to keep the feeling for distance and the effort it took to cross it. Just going everywhere with a thought had become too easy for the young mage. She had to remember her strangth, her endurance, the barbarian she was by birth. All the shamans and war mages of her clan were physically fit, unlike some wizards she had seen in the cities.
Closing her eyes, the young mage envisioned the shortest path to the place, where her companion would emerge from the caves containing the River of Steel. Lonewolf started to run with the long and steady step that eats the miles, moving along the paths like a goat. She clung to places where no foothold should be possible and climbed walls of rock, that seemed too smooth for her hands to grab them.
The barbarian was still there. Lonewolf moved for three days and two nights without needing to rest. She arrived at the mouth of the cave, where both the legends of her people and the words of her mother said her three companions should arrive. The young mage did not forget her mystic art and summoned a guardian gargoyle before she curled up to sleep, lulled by exhaustion and the happiness of still having her strength.
Ishra was the first to smell the fresh and natural mountain air again. She looked at Nirahr, who had distanced himself from her and Braktus, since they had left the mysterious River. The small warrior had seen a creature similar to his toad-like shape before and it was not a fiend, which should be a relief, but it made Ishra feel even more uneasy. There was something terribly unpredictable in his behaviour.
Even her husband seemed to keep his distance, though far more subtly than Nirahr. Ishra should be happy that their relation had allowed them to resist the temptation to kill each other, but it had been her and not the other spirit that took over occasionally, which had almost murdered Braktus. The words of the wise man worried her more than just a little. What had he and Nirahr been referring to?
Who was there in the back of her mind? Had that someone taken over before, when she had been unconscious or sleeping? She moved closer to Nirahr and asked: "You have admitted that you are half-demon and felt the tug of the evil in the village. What did it feel like?" He shrugged. "Something has changed in that magical fluid," he replied evasively. "What I do remember felt like the power of an abyssal lord, luring me like a succubus. They prey on other demons too, not just on mortals."
The small warrior herself had felt a far more subtle pulling, which was not really tugging at her. At the same time there was a terrible rage at this, more intense than her usual berserk fury. More focussed than before Ishra started to feel the feeling of wrong or at least a terrible foreboding, which she could not pin down. This clearness of mind was frightening.
Ishra did not even see the sleeping form of Lonewolf, as something rose. The rock itself seemed to grow into the shape of a gargoyle, which spread its wings and opened its fanged mouth towards the newcomers. Ishra thought it was magically animated rock. There was no telling what enough magic could do. The small warrior perceived that was an actual living creature when it was almost within reach of her sword.
Egania had almost forgotten the bare beauty of her cold and barren homeland beneath its clouded skies. She was standing in a groove of ancient trees, which should not be able to take root in the rocks, which was only covered with enough earth to support grass and shrubs. Most of the people were hunters and gatherers by necessity. Farming was only possible in very few spots, occupied by the villages of the clans, where the Eternal Wanderer had grown up.
Out of one of the trees a nude woman appeared. She was tall, but still shorter then Egania and far more slender. While the Eternal Wanderer was clearly a strong person by her muscles and sturdiness, the other woman seemed brittle in comparison. A closer inspection revealed, that she was wiry and her muscles where hard as steel. The fey glow in her cat-like eyes alone dispelled any idea of weakness.
The woman had pale skin and hair black as the feathers of a raven. "You took your time," she said. Egania fixed the eyes of the woman with her smoulderin iron eyes. "I need your help," quoth she. The dryad closed her eyes and seemed to forget the world around her for a short time. She said: "You may be too late, but I will see, what I can do." Then she turned to the Eternal Wanderer with a lustrous gleam in her eyes.
This was Comihlia Winterpale, the dryad who had fought with Egania more than three thousand years ago and fallen in love with the seemingly human woman, seeing her strength and immortality more clearly than Egania herself had. They had only met once since then and this was millennia ago. "I hope you will not run away with another man again," the dryad said.
She smiled lascivously. "Before I go, there is one thing, I have to do", she spoke and sedued Egania with the fiery passion of the fey.
Lonewolf rose from her sleep fully awake and drew her swords. Then she identified her friends, relaxed and called the guardian gargoyle back, seeing that both men kept a certain distance to Ishra. She had expected the couple to shun Nirahr. The young mage closed her eyes and sensed a presenence within the small warrior, that was not entirely wholesome. Unfortunately she would not be able to investigate further without making the moody woman suspicious.
She looked at her boy-friend and closed her eyes. He had not succumbed to evil at least. "What happened?" she asked him. The warrior quickly and quietly related his story. "When I turned back, I saw the woman in a network of tentacles, some of them in her. There was no way for me to tell, if she was in pleasure or pain. I decided to leave them alone. My meddling would probably have done more harm then good."
The young mage was not surprised. She knew Nirahr well enough to predict his reactions. Lonewolf would have given a lot to know what had happened to Ishra and Braktus, but she felt that the couple wanted to keep their privacy. Something must have shaken them terribly.
Braktus did talk, but it was about the woman, he had stolen from a god for. "Do you have any idea, who she is?" Lonewolf chuckled. "She is the goddess Arlaga, worshipped by many human adventureres and not too sinister rogues. Some say she is an ascended mortal. My mom may be old enough to know, but I am not. A priest once told me, she regularly has affairs with mortals."
"You didn't..." Ishra said jealously. "That was before I met you," he said calmy. "I was young and she is a beautiful woman." Lonewolf surpressed a sigh and looked at the small warrior icily. Ishra shivered. "Do you really think a mortal can resist a goddess, if she really wants him?" she asked. The young mage also gave the answer: "There is nothing either of you could do about it. People that powerful don't take no for an answer."
"I... " the small warrior started to say. Then she closed her mouth and thought. "Let's go," Lonewolf said. "There is no time to lose."
Nirahr took the forced speed of Lonewolf a lot better than he had on the way into the mountains. Again the barbarian showed no mercy in her pacing, which was faster than Ishra and Braktus felt comfortable with. Both had to struggle to keep up. Ishra found the rock passages confusing and trackless, but the young mage never doubted the way or direction even once. They marched on until the sun disappeared into the west.
Ishra fell asleep almost as soon as they had stopped, shunned a little by the other three, but she was too tired to notice. When she awoke again, the sun was already high in the sky. It was a warm day, but not in the shadow of the mountain. Ishra looked down the slopes and saw that they were already near the plains of Nurm. "Eat," Lonewolf said and pointed at flesh roasting over the fire. "You will need your strength."
After she had wolfed down more meat than should fit into her small body, Ishra followed the barbarian into the plains. Once she was there, she summoned the dragon again, which carried them the rest of the distance to the village. Even the mighty creature refused to land closer than several hundered meters distance to the village.
"I hope you know what you are doing," Lonewolf said, as they approached the barrier. "You may not have the strength to withstand the field, or whatever awaits on the other side. Mom was looking for reinforcements, but I doubt anyone else will make it in time. Maybe you should wait for me outside the village."
The small warrior felt little conviction in the warning. She was not sure how much the young mage knew about them. Ishra had survived fighting the Blood War with the fiends and now she would also fight and survive whatever was waiting in the village. "Maybe she is right," Braktus said. "We may not survive the transition." The small warrior asked: "Did that ever stop you?"
Lonewolf passed through the barrier holding the hand of Nirahr. Both were surrounded by a barely visible magical field. Neither seemed to suffer any ill effect from the transition. Braktus looked at his wife doubtfully. Ishra shrugged and took his hand. "This might have made the River easier," she said with little conviction and took the step.
Suddenly Ishra found herself in the middle of a pitched battle. The sword was in her hands. Around her demons were clawing, biting, screaming and blaspheming. Commands thundered over the field, but the creatures were too busy trying to kill the hated devils to follow any plan. Ishra knew it was a good plan. Unlike the more common creatures, the commanders of the armies knew what they were doing, or at least could do with less unruly underlings.
Terrible rage rose in the mind of the warrior, clouding her in the red veil of berserk rage and forgetfulness. A familiar shape floated nearby. Braktus. The small warrior struggled to remain conscious. The warning in the test of the River had been clear enough. She looked around, stabbed a fiend that attacked her husband and took his hand again, wondering when she had actually let him go. There was an expression of terror on his face.
Ishra felt herself falling on hard ground and rolled over, almost crushed by the mass of her husband, who tumbled with her. When she rose again and regained her bearings, the small warrior looked at Lonewolf, who had drawn her swords. The barbarian relaxed and Ishra turned to her husband, who had already picked himself up. Sometimes even his wife forgot how nimble he was for all his mass.
Lonewolf shook her head. She was beginning to understand that Ishra and Braktus did not know each other nearly as well, as they should after living together so many years. While she had an unfair advantage in knowing NIrahr, the young mage had to wonder about the nature of the relationship of the other couple.
She turned towards the centre of the village again, hoping the other three would follow. "The entire village was once a temple or monastery," Lonewolf said. "We are looking for parts of the original structure, over which the village was built." She walked slowly, watching the houses carefully, but no obvious hint presented itself, until she found one tenement broken either by the battle or the ravages of time gone out of control.
The timber framing had been built over a far older structure that was still partially intact. Lonewolf surmised that the temple had been broken by violence rather than age. She looked around and came to a conclusion. Roland had never shown them the cellar of his inn, which was the only building in the village that had one. Quickly she walked there.
Once they had opened the trapdoor, the way down led over an easy enough stairway. It was newer than the rest of the underground chamber, which was far larger than the house. Lonewolf wondered about the reasons why both the adventurers and Roland would hide this from her and Nirahr. She felt a terrible evil presence and drew her swords.
The ceiling of the large room was held in place by massive pillars. There were faded carvings and paintings on the walls, which had once depicted scenes important to the forgotten religion of this place. The supplies for the inn seemed to be crammed into a ridiculously small space, that could be the real cellar of the building overhead. It seemed even in better times Roland had not fully trusted this place.
Quickly Lonewolf looked for the way to go on. She found outcroppings that were once part of an intricate artwork, but stuck out clearly now. The young mage pushed the buttons and a section of the wall swung to the side, revealing a dark corridor. Lonewolf steeled herself for the task ahead and entered the passage.
Ishra doubted her choice for the first time, as the secret door opened. She felt an overwhelming presence of evil, at least as powerful as that of an Abyssal Lord. While the small warrior did not feel any demon, the thought that she was out of her league and how powerful Lonewolf really was crept into her mind. She looked at Braktus, who did not have the senses of his wife's mysterious heritage.
"There is no way back," he said. Ishra did not know what he had lived through during the passage of the barrier, but he was convinced that it was worse than whatever they would face down there. Ishra drew her sword and followed the young mage, feeling the reassuring presence of her husband. The glow of her weapon was strangely dimmed.
The passage was hewn into bare rock and led clearly down. Ishra had heard horrifying tales of the underdark of mortal worlds, were terrible monsters and depraved civilisations made their homes to consume the unwary and spread terror in nights on the surface. There was no opening in this passage, which terminated in a spacious cave sooner than expected.
Lonewolf and Nirahr were fighting something unseen, of which only two terrible emerald eyes were clearly visible. It seemed an amorphous mass of darkness and shadow, on which the swords of the two fighters seemed to have little impact. Ishra thought about the frighteningly similar eyes of the sage near the River of Steel and wondered if they had not already been tricked and they had been weakened rather than strengthened against this creature.
Frighteningly the eyes became aware of Ishra. She looked at Braktus quickly. The large thief had drawn some of his daggers, but he did not move. The thing moved an immaterial claw into his direction and the small warrior blocked it with her blade, feeling the red rage drowning out conscious thought...
Instead of the forgetfulness of berserk rage, something else rose in the back of her mind and pushed her out. Ishra raged even more wildly and terribly, but to no avail. She was helpless when she felt something pierce even her demon armour.
Lonewolf was aware of the drama played out on the other side of the cave, but she could not reach the couple in time. The barbarian had to expend all effort to parry the attacks of the creature with her own swords and find the spaces, when she could attack. The magic of her blades had awakened and she felt instinctively that she was now doing serious harm.
The young mage fought icily, keeping her rage and mind under rigorous control. This was a battle for precision and coldness, not the wild berserk rage. As though she had guessed it, she felt the creature trying to back through time. Lonewolf called upon her magic to follow it. The mana arrived without delay and the advantage the enemy might have gained was nullified, at least against her.
When she returned to the regular time stream, she saw that Nirahr was near Braktus, fighting with his sword, which had been turned into gleaming black steel by the River, and a beastlike claw, which also seemed to solidly hit the insubstantial mass of the enemy. One claw of the creature was about to hit Braktus. Nirahr threw himself into his way, accepting his punishment stoically.
Quickly the young mage called upon healing magic, but it was too late. Nirahr was cloven in two pieces by the force of the attack. Lonewolf wondered, where he would go. At least it would not be the Abyss. The pieces of the man faded into mist beofre they hit the ground. A claw hit Lonewolf. She felt a terrible pain and the coldness of death itself burn her.
The mana she had called to safe her lover was beginning to harm her body. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she barely managed to channel it into the healing spell she had prepared. The energy dimmed the pain. Lonewolf was abe to block the next attack, but the creature had something else in mind. The young mage had to follow the thing into its own timestream once more. She could feel it trying to interrupt her flow of power, but it was distracted by another presence.
Comihlia Winterpale had travelled to the next junction point of ley lines, as soon as she left Egania in Norgund. It was still a run of three days and two nights, until she was close to the village. Even the dryad felt strange fatigue as she approached the village. Her body should be completely untiring, powered by her fey spirit and made from materials drawn from nature in a process even she herself did not fully understand. There was something frightening going on.
When she was near the barrier, the dryad felt the energy of the battle. Comihlia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She passed the barrier and felt only a short need to sleep, which she supressed. The village was empty, but strangely intact. The dryad had imagined it to have gone through a terrible storm of time.
Suddenly the enemy was there, under attack from Lonewolf. The resemblance between the young mage and Egania was amazing. Both were driven by the same unquenchable spirit and possessed great power. There were two other people, but one was frozen in time and the other was fighting a terrible inner battle she was losing.
There was no time to think about the fate of the woman. Comhilia ran to Ishra and snatched her sword. The dryad was, of course, aware of the magic given by the River of Steel. She looked at the green metal and shook her head, knowing its origin. She attacked the ghostly creature with little effect at first, but soon the magic awakened.
Caught between the woman who could follow it through time by alien magic and the inhuman dryad, who was immune to most of its powers, both armed with terrible blades that hit where normal weapons failed, the creature became desperate. It lashed out with its claws and hit the dryad several times.
This time the fey body held as it should, being only lightly wounded by attacks that would have pierced and torn humans. When she had time to look, the dryad saw that the young mage was protected by something which massively reduced the effect of the attacks.
Finally the swords were hitting something vital to the monster. The swords of fire and ice seemed to cut the dark heart of the creature and Comihlia pierced the same place with her own sword. There was an inhuman shriek that shook even the dryad to the core of her soul. Then she felt herself tossed high into the air, leaving her to wonder if even her fey body would survive hitting the ground.
Braktus had been aware through all of the battle, but had been condemned to watch the fight. With the terrible shriek that felt like deliverance to him in spite of the terror of the dying creature, he regained control of his body. The large thief turned to his wife, who was staring into nothing. He turned to Lonewolf and looked for the other woman, he had seen fight.
The stranger plunged to the ground with terrible velocity, but suddenly she was gently lifted by the wind and landed on the floor softly. The earth trembled. Braktus caught up Ishra, wondering at her weight. Not even with the hidden demon armour, should she be that heavy.
Another quake shook the earth. Braktus increased his effort, trying to keep up with the fast run of the long-legged women. They ran past the houses with their gardens and past the fields, which were not as trampled as they should be after the battle. The women passed the barrier and the quake began seriously. The earth itself seemed to buck and tilt insanely, making him stumble and finally fall.
Ishra fell from his hands and tumbled over the ground helplessly. Braktus fell on his face, not even his fast reflexes allowing him to brace himself after her had lost his wife. He rolled to the side and realised that he had passed the barrier. He looked back and saw the houses in the centre of the village collapse into clouds of dust, roughly in the area, that must have contained the cellar of the forgotten temple.
The rift closed. Ishra stood up and continued to stare with vacant eyes. An alien spirit slowly took her over.