I sat cross-legged in the exact center of the mirrored enclosure, watching my reflection watching me watching my reflection. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a magical probe studying me. From my captor, no doubt. I wondered what he would learn, if anything. I needed time to recover strength and examine myself. I sealed my thoughts, turning my attention inwards. Fragments of memories rose unbidden to my mind... It was very long ago. Gabriel, first Herald-Wayfarer, strode forward, arrayed for battle. Eyes flashing, he shouted the proclaimation in a loud voice, brushing aside the shadows that rose to greet him. "The Keeper of the Beacon of Hope, issues challenge to the one named the Reaver of Life! From this day onward, the Master of Stronghold and His Servants do offer the Reaver and His Servants resistance with all their will and all their strength, until One or the Other are ended." Nothing. Emptiness, void. A spark. Flame, heat and light. A pattern. Form, shape and substance. "Dariel." I heard a richly musical voice. "We Name thee Dariel, Seeker of Enigma," the voice said. I opened my eyes for the first time. I was in a vast chamber. All about me, I saw a blaze of shimmering fire, fire of all colours and none. I found myself standing on the palm of an enormous hand. I looked up at the figure who held me, and knew at once that His face was my face, and yet also not my face. I knelt and bowed my head. "Master." "Abide and observe, Dariel," my Master said. He spoke a Word. A tongue of blue-green-red flame twisted, tore loose, and flickered next to me. "Zhinael." A halo gathered around the flame, rapidly coalescing into a form not entirely unlike mine. "We Name thee Zhinael, Mender of Spirit." Zhinael raised her head, then lowered it again quickly, kneeling by my side. "Master," she said also, her voice reverent. "Abide and observe, Zhinael," He replied. In a similar manner, He created Kuilam, Warden of Trust; Wekmael, Warrior in Brown; Nireen, Dancer on the Paths; Jandiel, Student of Air; and Disquai, Archon and Shaper of Stars. He explained our stations and duties, He blessed us, and then He sent us forth to do His bidding. Nireen and I fled the ravaged lands, the laughter of the Enemy echoing through our minds. The screams of the dying inhabitants were not half as horrifying as the way in which they died, torn to pieces by each other to feed the gibbering Dark. [The creature of Despair blocked our way...] "Hurry, sister," I gasped, "there is not much time." She nodded. "Almost there, Dariel." She pointed to a knotted tangle of Power not more than five hundred paces away. "That's the Doorway." Too late. The meaning of the sudden silence was more terrible than the screaming. A silhouette slid before us, snapped into focus above the Doorway. The Reaver's new Servant drew its existence from the death of a multiverse. It was centipede-like, its eyeless head a gaping maw of gnashing teeth. Its legs bristled with sharp spikes ending in clawed hands. Yellow slime oozed between the armor plates of its segmented body. Incongruously, it smelled of peaches. It reared back, standing half again as tall as me, and watched us. "Slaves of Stronghold," it said, mockingly, "I will set you free." A radiant spear of gold appeared in Nireen's hands as her silvery wings manifested. [I stood over Nireen's body, bitten in half, her empty blue eyes staring up at me.] "No, Nireen!" I caught her around the waist as she unfolded her wings, lifted her in my arms, and transferred us to one side of the monstrosity. Nireen instantly released her wings and spear, shifting to defend us instead. The beast's head swiveled quickly and its mouth opened, exhaling a shower of ebony ice that melted harmlessly on her shield-ward. I watched the scuttling of its legs as the rest of it turned to face us. For an instant, the Doorway was clear; I shifted us there, under its belly. I let go of Nireen and raised my hands, wrapped in force, to slice off one of the creature's limbs, but was too late to stop a second leg from slashing me across the chest. I hewed at its forest of claws and legs, but there were too many, everywhere, rending and cutting. Then Nireen grabbed my shoulder and pulled me through the Doorway, sealing it shut behind us. In the Eye of the Beacon, in the midst of the colorful fires of Hope, Amunpenhar struggled uncomfortably. I held one of the god's arms. My Master stood before us. "Make thine choice, healing or binding," He said gently. The god spat in His face, the saliva hissing and charring the flesh it touched. "The Reaver take You!" the god said in a voice of thunder. "I serve no one, and I have no need of Your healing." "Our Enemy may defeat Us yet, but while We stand, We stand." His face was whole again. "Harken unto Us, thou deity of destruction, and learn. Thou thinkest that thou servest none but thyself: it is not so. Destruction in itself is not always for ill--with no forgetting, there is no advancement, no betterment. But, as We stand for Hope, so the Reaver is the Void that wills obliteration absolute, and thy wanton indulgences do serve Him." "How can You judge me?" Amunpenhar retorted. "We do not judge thee. Thou wilt judge thyself. Healing or binding?" The god considered, then said, "I choose binding." My Master smiled. "Even so. Thou knowest Hope better than thou knowest thy old Master; when thou art bound, thou wisheth to be free. We know that thou believeth that thou mayest escape and wreak thy vengeance against Us. Is this not some manner of Hope? Fret not. The manner of Our binding is service in freedom." His voice grew stronger as His stature grew to match that of the room. We released the god's arms, stepping aside as my Master grasped the god in His hand. "Thou art Freed, Amunpenhar. Dance in the Flames." The god's body glowed as it became an azure fire burning in my Master's hand. It flew from His fingers to dart around the room with the others. -- Bernard Hsiung (bshsiung@descartes.waterloo.edu) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- [ADMIN: Part 2 of 2]