Chapter Eight
R’ille closed her eyes again and turned away from the arguing crowd. She began to pray for the Creator’s help in finding a way to cross the strait. She blocked out the Illuminar voices around her until she heard only the soft rushing of the wind out over the chasm and the birds chirping as they flew to nests hidden somewhere down over the edge of the cliff. The warmth of the sun fell on her back as if trying to reassure her of the path ahead.
Use Illinzor.
“I don’t know how. It is evil.” She said a prayer. “Creator, our people perish. You must help us to defeat the Demon Lord. How can we beat him?”
Await the Messiah, who will deliver you! He will be proclaimed by the Seer, who is of the Avanyar.
R’ille heard the cryptic message from her Kalláh, a message she had heard hundreds of times over the last several days. She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew she couldn’t wait for anything. She needed to act now, but how? She continued to pray. She knew Illinzor was the key, but, how to use it? There was no magic here for the wand to attack.
The Illuminar ceased their arguing and spoke only in hushed tones as they watched R’ille. They remained quiet, as if their existence lay balanced on the edge of a knife. Then something happened they did not expect.
Several Illuminar began shouting, their voices tinged with fear, as they pointed toward a group of objects that appeared far out over the chasm. They were high above the horizon, illuminated by the light of the rising sun. One floating object detached itself from the others and began descending towards them.
R’ille heard the shouts as she ended her prayer and looked to where they were pointing. She saw the tiny form of a Nil'Ganash growing larger as it approached. It appeared alone and unarmed.
You must use the enemy’s weapon! Use Illinzor!
R’ille called for archers to take aim, but steadied them for now. She was curious about why a Nil’Ganash would approach in such a vulnerable fashion. She waited to determine its intent.
The Nil’Ganash landed near her on the very edge of the cliff but made no move toward her. It simply turned to her and spoke. “Ni’or Legion,” it said, surprising R’ille and the others by addressing her in the Illuminar tongue.
I am Legion.
“What do you want?” R’ille answered in the common tongue. She felt no desire to share her name, nor to engage him in her sacred tongue. She hated the Nil’Ganash. She had seen too much of the evil they could do.
“I offer a trade,” it said simply, shifting also into the common tongue. Its black lips broke into an evil smile.
“What kind of a trade?”
“My master desires to recover the Zori. I wish to trade for them.”
“We do not have the wands of power,” R’ille said simply. A lie.
“That is a shame, for I had hoped you would be willing to bargain for this—”
Legion reached to a scabbard inside his black cloak and with a violet hand drew out a long black sword. He held up an Illuminar’s Nyakil.
The gathered Illuminar gasped, though R’ille appeared to be unmoved.
“We do not have the wands of power,” she said again.
“Do you not recognize the sword, Gathân? This is one of your precious Nyakil, I believe. I know how highly regarded they are among your race. One has never been lost to the enemy, so it has been said.” He turned the blade over in the morning sun, testing its weight in his violet hand.
Now R’ille looked at the sword. Its black blade glistened in the sunlight. The glint of silver caught her eye. She saw the sun-like symbols running down its length. Yllirin! She swallowed hard. It was Brinn’s blade. She was unable to hide her recognition, and Legion noted her reaction with a sly smile.
“I offer more than this poorly constructed weapon, however,” Legion continued. Turn over the Zori to me and I will give you both the sword and its owner.”
R’ille let out an audible gasp, and the Illuminar roared in an angry shout. The Nil'Ganash grimaced in response and bared his canine fangs, feeling the threat of being rushed by his enemy. Yet he held his ground, knowing their weakness.
You must use the enemy’s weapons!
R’ille steeled herself and tried to appear devoid of emotion. “Does he live?”
The Nil'Ganash answered with a wave of his hand, and the other objects far up in the sky approached. Three gargoyles descended until they were almost to their violet master, then stopped and hovered just beyond the edge of the cliff, out over the chasm’s void. In their arms was Brinn.
His eyes were blindfolded, his mouth gagged, and his hands and feet were bound. He struggled against his bonds, appearing very much alive. The gargoyles removed his blindfold, and his struggling ceased when he saw the emptiness between his legs. In front of him, the cliff’s vertical edge dropped into shadows of brown and grey as it descended downward until lost in shadow. Atop the cliff, just a few yards away from where he dangled, was the Illuminar host, with R’ille at their head. Legion stood near her. Legion was explaining to R’ille that he was the bargaining chip in the Nil'Ganash’s plan to recover the Zori.
The Zori! Brinn remembered the red wand of Fire that R’ille had given him before they last parted. He moved his right ankle inside his boot and felt the stiff rod against the outside of his leg. Still tucked into his boot was Arazor, the wand of Fire! He couldn’t believe the enemy hadn’t found it. After his capture they had disarmed him, but they had never searched his boots. The very thing Legion was searching for was right under his nose, and the Nil'Ganash didn’t know it.
Brinn had no way to reach the wand in his boot. Unable to do anything to stop the events unfolding before him, he grew very still in the clutches of the gargoyles and stared intently at R’ille, trying to communicate his secret to her with his eyes. He didn’t know it, but her Kalláh had already told her.
When the Illuminar host gathered around R’ille saw the emerald division commander in the hands of the gargoyles, their anger erupted. Shouts of revenge flowed from the warriors, though there were cries of dismay from some of the children.
The Nil'Ganash silenced them with a wave of his hand, his lavender eyes flaring. “I want the Zori,” he snarled, apparently tiring of his game.
R’ille didn’t answer, remaining silent while she quickly evaluated her options.
Brinn still has the wand of Fire.
R’ille looked into Brinn’s eyes.
The gargoyles holding Brinn had not alighted on the cliff; instead they remained hovering out beyond its edge, with Brinn in their clutches. Any attempt to reach him and the enemy would surely drop him. R’ille knew that the Nil'Ganash, like all followers of the Demon Lord, could not be trusted. She knew his offer, Brinn in exchange for the Zori, was probably a lie. Still, her heart ached for her beloved husband. When they let go, would he die from the fall? No Immortal had ever fallen that far. She didn’t want him to die like that. She listened to her Kalláh.
The Zor remains with him.
She continued staring at Brinn, reading the truth in his eyes. How? How had Brinn kept it from them? Perhaps they hadn’t searched him at all! They would not have expected him to have it. She decided to gamble.
“We had two Zori,” she said finally, looking at Legion. “The wand of fire was destroyed creating the pillar of fire that led us here.” Brinn’s eyes widened ever so slightly at her words. “Only the wand of Air remains.” She drew the blue wand out from within her cloak.
“And what of the wand of Earth?”
“Of that we know nothing except that we have it not,” R’ille lied.
The Nil'Ganash and the Illuminar stared at one another for a long time. It was Legion who finally broke the silence.
“Give me Maladzor, then. Hand over the wand of Air.”
R’ille studied the Nil’Ganash closely, noting the violet skin, the black clawed nails, and the glowing lavender eyes. It was armed only with Brinn’s Nyakil. She knew that dozens of arrows were trained on the Nil’Ganash, ready to fly should he attempt to harm her. R’ille took a step toward the Nil'Ganash, who responded by spreading his black leathery wings. He seemed to grow into an immense size before her. R’ille hesitated. One horrible problem remained, and she didn’t know how to resolve it. It was possible that after she handed over the wand they would still drop Brinn. Yet, she saw no choice. She could give up one of the wands of Power, possibly save her husband, and keep two of the wands in her possession. It was a huge gamble, but she took it. Standing before the Nil'Ganash, she held out the blue wand.
He snatched it away and suddenly flew backward up into the air, stopping in a hover several feet away, out beyond the edge of the cliff.
R’ille cursed herself for letting the wand go so easily. She glanced again at Brinn, whose eyes were still on her. At least they hadn’t dropped him … yet. “Return the captive to us,” R’ille demanded. “Fulfill your end of the bargain.”
“There is something more I require,” answered the Nil'Ganash. “You disappoint me by returning only one of the wands. So, I require something else as well.”
“Fulfill your end of the bargain. We have nothing else to give.”
“Oh, but you do have something more to give; a small thing, really, at least to you. So useless it is to you, in fact, that you’re not even aware you have it. But I require it as well.”
“What else do you ask for?”
The Nil’Ganash grinned, cat-like, as if he had just won the exchange. His fangs glistened in the morning light. “In return for the Gathâni, my master wants your soul. Swear allegiance to Shaitan and surrender your soul to him.”
The Illuminar throng erupted in disbelief. Amid their shouts were calls to shoot the Nil’Ganash from the sky where it hovered.
R’ille silenced the Illuminar host.
“No, R’ille, don’t do it!”
It was Brinn. He had somehow wriggled the gag away from his mouth. He received a vicious slap for his outburst from the stone hand of one of his captors. He continued anyway. “Don’t do it, beloved,” he implored his wife. His gag was quickly replaced, tighter than ever.
Legion turned and smiled when he heard the word “beloved”. He knew then that the two were bound to each other. His fangs almost dripped with the pleasure of that knowledge.
R’ille was in agony. She looked at Brinn, unsure of what to do. Her Kalláh was screaming.
You must not do this!
More than the land she loved, more than the Creator’s gift of immortality, more than anything she knew of in this world, R’ille loved Brinn. She could not imagine living forever without him. She also knew that the Nil’Ganash had discovered her weakness: her love for his captive. He had her. A single tear fell from her eye as she spoke just one word.
“Agreed.”
The Illuminar host cried out in dismay. Brinn uttered his objection behind the gag, but it could not be heard above the din.
“Silence!” R’ille demanded from the Illuminar throng, then turning back to the Nil'Ganash. “I have agreed to your demand. Now release him.”
“Swear your allegiance to Shaitan, who you call Lucifer. Swear allegiance to the Demon Lord.”
You must not do this!
R’ille swallowed hard. Forgive me Ár-Ádun, she prayed. And then she spoke.
“I renounce my Creator and take Lucifer, the Demon Lord, as my lord and master. I give my soul to him.”
A clap of thunder rent the cloudless sky. The Illuminar host reeled. They couldn’t believe what their leader had just done. What madness had possessed her to acquiesce to his demand? It was something few of them truly understood: R’ille’s love for Brinn. The Illuminar host moaned with sorrow; a few of the children wailed. Their cries were silenced by a wicked laugh. R’ille heard another voice, familiar but far off, fading from her mind.
Await the Messiah, who will deliver you! He will be proclaimed by the Seer, who is of the Avanyar.
The voice was almost gone now.
Use Illinzor!
The cry faded, and then she, too, heard the laughter. It was soft at first, but then grew until it echoed into the chasm. Legion was laughing at her.
“Well done, Illuminar, well done,” he said to R’ille. “My master does love feasting on the soul of an Illuminar … a delicacy he seldom gets to enjoy!”
“Return the Illuminar,” R’ille demanded.
“There’s just one small thing. You still hold back one of the Zor. Perhaps when you reconsider, you can have him.”
R’ille immediately recognized she had been double-crossed. In that instant, however, the Nil'Ganash chose to make his departure.
“Fire!” R’ille screamed.
The arrows flew as R’ille shouted to shoot the betrayer. Their aim was well placed, but the archers misjudged the Nil’Ganash’s next move. They expected him to begin an ascent, but instead, the Nil'Ganash simply tucked his wings and dove below the rim of the cliff, dropping out of sight in the same instant the Illuminar let their arrows fly. The gargoyles holding Brinn went the opposite way. They rose and flew eastward, up and over the Illuminar host. The archers were forced into holding their shots, for fear of hitting Brinn. Soon, the gargoyles and their captive disappeared out of sight.
The crowd rushed toward R’ille, shocked and angered at what she had done. They were stopped and silenced when she turned, her face filled with tears.
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Most of the crowd remained silent, though some in Lorelai’s group wailed softly. Several others came and put their hands upon R’ille to comfort her. Her shoulders slumped, and for the first time in her long life, she wished she were not immortal. She wished she were dead.
R’ille called for her Kalláh, and as she feared, heard only silence. Then, something else caught her ear. It was far off, unrecognizable at first, but it filled R’ille with dread. Soon it grew louder, and she recognized the sound. It was the wailing of souls in torment. Then she noticed other voices; the whispered horrors of demons, that sounded like they were hovering all around her. Their screeching was all she could hear. Her Kalláh was gone, replaced by the murmurings of demons arguing over the souls of the dead. It was horrifying. She fell to the earth and sobbed.
An Illuminar warrior from the front lines burst upon the crowd at the edge of the chasm. Bleeding from a rapidly healing slash across the face, he carried an emerald banner. “Brinn has been taken by the enemy!” he announced.
“Your news arrives too late,” said another. “The Nil'Ganash has him. He was shown to us, offered as barter for the wands of Power.” The herald learned what had transpired, a tale that ended with ominous words. “We are doomed.”
“We are not doomed!”
It was R’ille. The voice of her Kalláh, now lost to her, still echoed in her head.
Wiping the tears from her face, she rose and faced the gathered Illuminar. “As long as we draw breath, we will fight the evil of the Demon Lord. We have lost Brinn, but he still lives, at least for the moment. We have lost the wand of Air. A second wand, the wand of Fire, which was in Brinn’s possession, is also surely recovered by the enemy. But we still have one of the enemy’s wands, and perhaps we can use it against him still!” R’ille held up the green wand. Those around her listened to her words, but their eyes told of the hopelessness that filled their hearts.
Several of the children resumed throwing crystal shards to where the violet fiend had hovered moments ago, venting their fear and sadness by pretending the enemy still floated out over the chasm before them. R’ille glimpsed their movement and turned to watch. She looked at the crystal outcropping where the children were gathering shards. A moment later, she turned back to the Illuminar.
“My Kalláh is gone. But its last instructions echo in the empty halls of my mind.
You must use the enemy weapon! You must use Illinzor.
I must the enemy’s weapons. I will use this wand against the Demon Lord and save our people.
“You cannot,” Lorelai whined again. “We’ve been over this. It will only destroy the other’s magic.”
“You are wrong,” R’ille countered. “That held true a few moments ago, but now things have changed. Your words are no longer correct. This wand holds great power.” She smiled a sad, haunting smile, but in it there was just the slightest twinge of hope. She answered the confused looks with a simple truth: “This wand holds great power when it lies in the hand of one who has given her soul to the Demon Lord.”
The crowd was silent. What did she mean?
You must use the enemy’s weapon!
The echo was now only a faint memory.
R’ille walked over to the crystal outcropping near the children and waved the wand over the stone. As she did, she spoke. “With the power of the one who rules this world yet is confined by it, I command thee to bridge this chasm.
A flash of green light erupted from the wand and struck the crystal stone. A rumbling was heard and the crystal began to change and grow. It widened upon the edge of the chasm until it was over twenty feet in breadth, and then began growing upward and outward in a long arc out over the chasm. The crystal obeyed the power of the wand of Earth, and grew into a flat-topped causeway that stretched out over the chasm until its end was lost to sight.
“Behold! The Creator turns even the power of the Demon Lord to His use.” R’ille turned to the crowd. “Behold, Immortal ones, our bridge to Illianor!”
The Illuminar were in awe. All hope had been lost, but now there was a way out. Several of those under R’ille’s silver banners began organizing the Illuminar in preparation to cross. They brought R’ille to the forefront. “You are still our leader,” they announced, and others took up the words in a chant. “Lead us across.”
“Do you trust me?” she asked those around her. “I have renounced Ár-Ádun, our Creator!” Tears welled up in her eyes again.
“You are our leader. You have led us this far and have not failed. Lead us across.”
R’ille reluctantly took her place at the head of the procession. She stepped up onto the cloudy crystal. It felt solid. She took several steps forward and realized it would hold. As she started across the span, she turned to the warrior from Brinn’s division, who had brought news, too late, of his capture.
“Return to your kin under the emerald banners and tell them what has happened. Tell them that I ask, in Brinn’s memory, that you fight one last time to protect our rear as we cross this span to Illianor. With your help, we shall yet live!”
“For Brinn!” he shouted and was gone, back to the battle front.
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