Robert Newcomb: A March into Darkness

Suddenly their weapon blades started to glow with the azure hue of the craft, and there came a thunderous explosion. Azure smoke rose, and the two combatants were thrust away from each other to go skidding across the shiny floor.

Tristan came to a stop on his back. He looked up through the haze just in time to see Xanthus rushing at him. His azure axe twinkling in the light, Xanthus brought it down with everything he had.

Tristan rolled hard to the right. With a great crash, Xanthus’ axe barely missed theJin’Sai and split the floor’s entire length in half. The massive concussion resonated through the walls and caused the transparent ceiling to shatter. Crystalline shards rained down into the room.

As Xanthus struggled to free his blade, Tristan jumped to his feet and brought his dreggan whistling around. But Xanthus again blocked it with his shield. Finally the Darkling’s axe came free and Xanthus attacked again, forcing Tristan to back up.

As the battle seesawed back and forth, the fighters quickly neared where Shadow was tied, causing the horse to rear nervously on his hind legs as far as his reins would allow. Soon Tristan found himself being forced toward the hallway entrance.

As they passed though the crystalline door frame, it split thunderously apart. Several more cracks split the hallway walls, and lengthened violently to match the combatants’ forward progress. Tristan could only guess that these phenomena were being caused because twoK’Shari masters had called on their gifts simultaneously. But he couldn’t risk thinking about that now.

The whirling axe came around again, but this time Tristan raised his dreggan a fraction of a second too slow. Xanthus’ blow resonated so harshly through the dreggan blade and into Tristan’s hands that the sword fell from his grip to go clattering to the floor. Xanthus immediately kicked the dreggan past Tristan and sent it skidding down the hallway.

Tristan was tempted to turn his back on Xanthus and go chasing after his sword, but every instinct told him not to. Knowing that he finally had Tristan trapped, Xanthus smiled. Tristan watched him raise the glowing axe.

Having no choice but to completely trust in his gift, for the first time Tristan surrendered his entire being to hisK’Shari. As he did, the down-stroke of Xanthus’ axe seemed to slow to the point that sidestepping the blow was effortless. The nature of Tristan’s next move was revealed to him with crystal clarity. He reached behind his right shoulder.

The two throwing knives came into his right hand so quickly that he had grasped them even before Xanthus finished his strike. He took one dirk into his left hand.

Tristan lashed out. As he backed away, he heard a scream.

One knife handle protruded from each of Xanthus’ eyes. Screaming again, the Darkling waved his arms and staggered about blindly. Blood ran from his eye sockets and down onto his black robe. His axe and shield stopped glowing and went clattering to the floor. Then he fell forward, dead where he lay.

His chest heaving, Tristan stood there for a moment, staring at Xanthus’ bloody corpse. Facing certain death and having no other alternative had finally forced him to learn how to let go, and to trust his new gift entirely. It was a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

When he walked to collect his dreggan, he thought he heard someone softly call out. As he picked up his sword he heard the wind moaning through the shattered ceiling in the other room, but nothing else.

“Tristan,” someone whispered. This time there could be no mistaking it.

Holding his sword high, he crept down the hallway. He took a deep breath and stepped quickly into the next room.

The meeting chamber was a bloodbath. Eleven of the twelve Envoys lay dead. Azure blood was splattered everywhere. Bodies and body parts were strewn about the room, and the transparent panel that had once graced part of the curved wall had been destroyed. Dark smudges dirtied much of the chamber, telling Tristan that azure bolts had been used in the recent battle.

But if they are all dead, who called my name? Tristan wondered. He was about to check each body for signs of life when he heard the lone voice call out again.

“Jin’Sai,”a woman whispered.

Tristan looked across the room to see Hoskiko lying on the bloody floor. She had raised herself up onto her elbows and was trying to crawl toward him. Sheathing his dreggan, he ran to her and cradled her in his arms.

A deep wound lay beneath Hoskiko’s once-immaculate white robe. Dried blood lay crusted on the garment and in her long gray hair. Her eyes were losing their luster. As she gently reached up to touch his face, she smiled.

“You’re alive…,” she said. “I heard the fighting. Did you kill Xanthus?”

“Yes,” he answered gently. “What happened here?”

“The Imperial Order came,” she answered. “When thePon Q’tar learned about Crysenium, they sent them to destroy us. Xanthus came with them. We tried to fight back, but there were too many of them.”

“How did you survive?” Tristan asked.

Hoskiko managed a weak smile. “I fooled them,” she answered. Then she coughed, bringing up some blood. As Tristan felt his heart tear in two, he held her closer.

“I used a spell to slow my heartbeat and mimic death,” she said. “It might have been cowardly of me, but I had to stay alive long enough to see you return. There is so much that you still do not know…”

“I don’t understand,” Tristan said. “If the Imperial Order was here, why didn’tthey kill me? Why would they leave, and trust the job to Xanthus?”

“Because Xanthus had been compromised by the Envoys, he had become more expendable,” she answered weakly. “You must always remember that thePon Q’tar ’s paranoia knows no bounds. But there is another reason why the Imperial Order left so soon after finishing their dirty work. They boasted about it as they watched the others die.”

“Why?” Tristan asked.

“With what strength I have remaining, I am cloaking your blood,” Hoskiko answered. “At the same time, thePon Q’tar is trying to sense your blood from afar. When I die, they will succeed. If they sense it long enough, they will know that Xanthus failed to kill you. Their only choice will be to summon the Borderlands to destroy you and Crysenium. That is why the Imperial Order didn’t wait.” Raising herself up a little, she looked sternly into Tristan’s eyes.

“You must leave here immediately!” she begged him. “When I die, thePon Q’tar ’s rage will know no limits! The form the Borderlands will take will be savage, and all-encompassing!”

“I will take you with me,” Tristan insisted.

“No!” Hoskiko answered. “I am too far gone-we both know that. My time is over!”

“But where am I to go?” Tristan asked. “If Crysenium is destroyed, I will die in the Borderlands!”

“Go home!” Hoskiko said weakly. “Call forth the Forestallment that we granted to your blood and go back to Eutracia! But you must leave quickly! As the Borderlands near, magic will become useless and you will lose your ability to call forth the Forestallment!”

Tristan’s mind raced as he turned to look through the empty space where the viewing panel had once been. The deceiving scene on the other side remained idyllic. But if Hoskiko was right, it would soon become a living nightmare.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll go back. But I’ll never forget you.”

“What you must remember above all is the true nature of your and Shailiha’s destinies,” she said. “Because thePon Q’tar knows that you finally understand this, they will do everything they can to keep you from coming back. Despite their great power, they fear the coming of you and your sister more than anything in the world. You must find a way to cross the Tolenka Mountains, or to conquer the polar ice caps that imprison the Sea of Whispers to the north and the south. Return and seek out the Heretical splinter group. Only then can you start to heal the terrible wounds on this side of the world.”