33 A Never Made Promise

Present Day – Tower of Babel

RASNAL NALROST IN the body of Haven Tone, descended the basalt steps and walked up the slope of the tunnel. As he neared Threadfin’s position the king’s body transformed into a swirling mass of black snakes, writhing and diving into a core of night to reemerge everywhere. The face of the old king looked scarred as though it had melted in a fire. In his right hand, a long sword formed from a swirl of darkness though it vanished as quick. It seemed like he was testing his new body, his abilities.

The Grim, harbinger of death and doom. Instinctively, the viral mage knew if the Grim departed this tower he would enter Threadfin’s world. This ... thing was an abomination. It was going to hunt down Astra to murder her and then it would enslave the world.

Well, I won’t allow that, he thought. He waited until the last moment when the Grim was upon him, then drew on the lifeforces of the surviving zorasts and let loose his magic.

A hammer of viralic power struck the Grim who hurtled through the air. He hit with a smack at the base of the pit steps.

Threadfin rose, his magic billowing in the form of huge wings, which swept upwards to kiss the cavern walls. He hurled his attacks in the form of lancing barbs, which skewered Haven Tone. He drained all life from the last zorasts who attempted to flee. They’d made their choice.

The viral mage was halfway to the pit when he halted. Something wasn’t right. This was meant to be the Grim? Why then was it so easy? He remembered Striga’s words. He could destroy the old king’s body, but it wouldn’t slay the Grim.

A gurgling laughter from Haven Tone’s throat confirmed his fears. ‘Is it your intention to kill me, Threadfin Todralan? Now, that would be tasteless irony at its best, wouldn’t it? Besides, I know Adal warned you not to.’

‘I will not allow you to enslave my world,’ said Threadfin. ‘I am its guardian. I stand in your way.’

The Grim got up as though nothing had happened, his hideous form towering over the viral. Haven Tone’s body appeared undamaged. The swirling mass of the Grim slowed and in its place, armour formed.

I knew it! Nothing worthwhile is ever easy. I guess this is just going to take a while.

‘You are not the guardian of this world, Todralan.’

The viral mage gritted his teeth. ‘That is no longer my name, Grim.’

‘No,’ said Nalrost, his expression displaying sadness. ‘But it is the name we gave our son. Did you not know? Tod Ralan means of Ralan in old Icarthian.’

The viral’s jaw was working as though chewing month-old dried fish. He almost choked.

‘You don’t understand,’ said the Grim, ‘but you feel the truth of it. You must know we created the plagues, which gave birth to the undead. Our spectralic power gifted by the angels, working through the Shathra Stone. We created an army you and I, or at least we would have if others hadn’t interfered.’

Threadfin hadn’t let go of his magic, but there was something in the Grim’s words; truths long denied him. Striga had said the Grim wanted to talk and Threadfin now wanted to know why. I can always kill him later. ‘Why do you keep saying, we?’

‘You know what you are. You just don’t know who you are. To not know your true self is a tragedy.’

The viral mage felt something twist inside of him and it wasn’t worms. Instinct told him to run, and not to listen to these lies, but he felt rooted to the spot. Were they lies?

‘Your attacks did not harm me, undead one. Impressive if pointless. This body you see in front of you, I can heal. Your magic should’ve had some impact, shouldn’t it?’

Threadfin took a step back, his power fading. He began to sense where this was all going. Nowhere good.

‘Threadfin, I am you and you are me!’

‘You’re insane.’

‘Two halves of a whole. You’ve always felt like you were incomplete? Half dead, isn’t that how you like to say it? Well, I’m the living half you’ve been searching for.’

Threadfin realised he’d backed further upslope. His magic was gone and he was mumbling to himself, shaking his head. Get a grip, you grolg-skulled half-witted inept excuse for a trumped-up-mage. He’s trying to trick you! ‘You’re the Grim; all you do is lie and it won’t work with me.’

The Grim was following yet appeared in no hurry and made no aggressive moves. The old king’s damaged face had taken on a grave cast as though filled with sorrow. ‘A greater magic was mine, perhaps the greatest this world has ever known. The problem was I couldn’t get enough. I was a fool who let ambition destroy him. We were fools. You know about Astra.’

Threadfin’s magic erupted again, wings sweeping behind him. ‘I will not let you harm her.’ He knew his reserves were getting low each time he used his magic, but he could draw on Haven Tone’s lifeforce perhaps, kill him and deprive the Grim of a physical form. Something held him back.

‘The spell, which destroyed Astra’s soul also split ours in two. This half became a shade and escaped, but the other wouldn’t be reborn for another thousand years. You, Threadfin Todralan. You are one half of my soul.’

The viral mage cried out as he hurled a ball of magic, crackling with actinic lightning. It slammed into the old king’s head and the Grim staggered backwards. A second before it hit, the armour had swelled to encompass the attack, diffusing it. Using this deflection, Threadfin drew on Haven Tone’s life. He saw the king begin to wither and die, but then the body recovered fast as the Grim healed it.

‘If we fight, Threadfin, it will be a fight for the ages. Two titanic forces locked in battle, and yet neither shall prevail. I cannot destroy you and you cannot destroy me. I see the questions in your eyes, but you refuse to ask them. I will answer, nonetheless.’

‘No, I don’t want to hear it.’ He launched himself at the Grim using his wings for lift, colliding with his opponent at speed. Both flew backwards, landing with a crunching impact to roll towards the pit. As they came to a halt, Threadfin was first to regain his feet. His magic formed a short sword in his right hand and he stabbed at the Atlantian king’s body, but the Grim formed his own sword lightning fast, and blocked it.

Then the counterattack came as an invisible force threw Threadfin backwards to slam against the cavern wall. Then he fell.

On his knees, wings protectively gathered about him, he watched the Grim rise and approach. ‘I have no desire to fight you. Search your heart. You’ve always known you had another half and I am it. We were once one person, whole. I am not Rasnal Nalrost in truth, though you call me by that name.

‘I am the Grim and you are Threadfin Todralan, but together we were once that man. He died, torn apart by his own spell. Now, we are separate individuals. Denying our origins, our link to one another, is foolishness. Especially now. The Darkness would like nothing better than to see us remain divided and weakened.’

Threadfin stood, feeling weary, confused, and afraid. His magic evaporated. There seemed no point. I’ve failed. Worse, I’ve just found out I’m ... what? Related to the Grim was a diplomatic way of putting it. He placed his head in his hands. It was too much to take in.

‘The world is in serious danger, Threadfin. Your world. That is why I’ve returned. Where is my army of the undead? Why are they not here ready to accept my commands?’

‘Your army?’ asked Threadfin, lifting his head. The Grim had turned away and was walking up the slope of the cavern. There was nothing the mage could do, but follow.

The Grim exited the cavern, heading towards the centre of the tower where the stepped pyramid rested on its plateau.

Threadfin hurried after him, but the Grim moved at an uneasy pace. ‘What do you intend to do? Enslave the whole world? The undead are its protectors.’

The Grim whirled, his face twisted in a flash of rage. ‘You were never that! Those angelic spawn, those Nephilim twits, were the guardians. You were meant to destroy them for me. They hunted me relentlessly for the Shathra Stone and managed to take it from me. I had to make a deal with their king. Angelborn spawn? What a terrible idea.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To find my army of virals and yes, to enslave worlds. As many as I can. I had discovered Darklight, but it would not allow me to enter other realms. None but the Styx, which is nothing more than a shadow of this world. Useless to me.’

‘So, you just want to rule it all? Is that what this is all about?’

The Grim looked stricken as though Threadfin had suggested something horrendous. Bide your time, Todder. Lull him and wait for the right moment. He will let his guard down sometime. There must be a way to stop him.

‘No,’ said the Grim with the Atlantian king’s lips. ‘To save it. That has ever been my intention.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

The old king’s head shook from side to side as though disappointed. ‘Already she turns you against me. We can never be whole again, Threadfin. Even she isn’t who she once was. Astra Dar perished, but this reborn version of her is a greater threat than you can comprehend. Together, we can stop her.’

‘I will not let you hurt her, Grim. Maybe I can’t kill you, but I can get in your way.’

‘Don’t you see? She wants to draw me into the mortal world, so she can destroy me.’

‘She is just a young woman alone and lost, and terrified of you.’

The Grim laughed. ‘You know her, then? Ah, of course. You’ve met a soul fragment of hers, the Forlorn One. Well, perhaps you knew the fragment, but you don’t know Astra. She serves Tartaros. The original sorceress made a deal with the Darkness for our son’s life. She must pay up.’

‘There’s no way she ...’

‘Attack me, Threadfin Todder, if you wish. I will not defend myself, and still you will not defeat me. We must stop her. Fail and your world is finished and likely existence along with it.’ The Grim held out one hand and a dark swirl formed into a ball.

It looked like the Shathra Stone though it was in shadow. ‘Do you know I’ve spent centuries with this, trying to find a way to halt the advance of Tartaros? A shadow of existence in my palm but useless. I imagine she has the real thing by now.’

Threadfin gaped at the shadowy stone. ‘I didn’t know that was possible.’

The Grim nodded. ‘You can do it too if you concentrate hard enough. I’ve found it better than nothing. We are all connected to existence and therefore to the Stone, but your connection is unique.’

Threadfin growled, uncertain if he understood. ‘If Astra possessed the Stone, I think we’d know. Lorn said she didn’t know where it was. I believed her.’

The Grim nodded. ‘Where a desire to rule had consumed almost all fragments of Astra’s soul the Forlorn One remained different. Each of us has good and bad within, even Astra Dar. Lorn Larthuz was that bit of goodness, the part of her I loved.’

‘I loved her too,’ whispered Threadfin, feeling a familiar ache in his chest.

The Grim placed a hand on the viral’s shoulder, and Threadfin flinched. ‘I have not really returned to enslave. Yes, I admit it was once was my plan. I even created a new army with a general. You met him.’

‘The Fetch. Yeah, that was fun.’

‘He was a mistake. You did right in destroying him. I wronged many including my own blood. You are so like me and yet unlike me. Help me save this world, Threadfin. Help me save something of existence.’

‘What happened to the revenants after I destroyed the Fetch?’

The Atlantian king’s face screwed up into a grimace. ‘Someone stole them. I’ve been trying to retrieve them so I can destroy them. My Torments are working on it as we speak.’

‘Who stole them?’

The Grim simply stared at him.

‘You know,’ said Threadfin, ‘a few months ago she was a little girl. None of this should be possible.’ He recalled how she had destroyed a gorgon without lifting a finger. Such power. Yes, she was dangerous.

‘I imagine you’ve seen her power,’ said the Grim as though reading his thoughts. ‘You must know what she’s capable of. Worse, she’s not alone. She serves Tartaros and the Darkness has many servants. Whoever actually stole my revenants they are hers now. I imagine she will begin to conquer your world within days.’

‘How do you know?’

He gave Threadfin a dark smile. ‘Because, it was once my plan. You don’t believe me? Come, I’ve something to show you.’

‘Hey, wait,’ Threadfin said, once again hurrying to catch up, feeling like a child scuttling after his father.

He did not appreciate the feeling one bit.

‡

IN THE SHADOW OF THE pyramid, enveloped in cords of twisted light was Dessa Tone. Suspended on air above a circular dais, she spun, twisting within the cords as she tried to escape.

‘What are you going to do to her?’ Threadfin demanded, staring up at the Atlantian princess, feeling a raw mix of emotions.

‘Changing one’s appearance to that of another and maintaining it is possible. However, the voice, mannerisms, personality, all make it such a complex deception. Easier to possess the mind of another and control their actions from afar. She’s good, but she always was.’

Threadfin glanced up at Dessa and then at Nalrost. ‘Let her down. ‘I know what she’s done. Let her down.’

‘There was another with her, a soldier I believe.’

‘Vilt, she’s alive?’

‘She escaped once I had captured Dessa. I control Babel, and the tower will let her leave. I do not know exactly where she is right now, but she is alive. She will not be harmed.’

Threadfin smiled in relief, but then spotted someone approaching. A young woman with blond-haired and wearing a purple gown. A faint aura of darkness surrounded her, with her hair swept back by a non-existent wind.

Astra.

The cords of light dissipated and Dessa Tone fell to land with a hard thump. Threadfin rushed to her side.

‘I told you undead one,’ said the Grim, ‘she’s good. She controlled the Atlantian woman’s mind, and used her to deceive you. Crafty and effective.’

‘I thought Dessa was a zorast just another fanatical servant of yours.’

‘No, no, Haven Tone was my servant. A zorast most of his life, though Dessa has always had her dark side. It was what made it so easy for Astra to control her in the end. Astra needed Dessa to bring the kraken here to raise this Tower. I sent my Torments to capture her, to prevent this. Did one of them spin you a tale that I would raise this tower and invade?’

Threadfin stared at the Grim, recalling the attack on Astra in Icarthya and the dying Torment’s words.

The Grim smiled. ‘I told you she was good. Lugat tried to warn you about her. She twisted his words to convince you I was the threat. She even allowed herself to be taken. With the essence of Tartaros at her fingertips, anything is possible, her power unparalleled. My Torments did not hold her for long, I’m afraid.’

‘You mean, she put me on the hunt for this Tower?’ He then recalled she’d been the one who’d set him on the path to find Lorn too, which had led him to the Grim’s Fetch. I’ve been dancing to her tune all this time.

‘She sought to face me on her own terms,’ said the Grim. ‘Crafty and beautiful, for here I am and here she comes. Isn’t she wondrous?’

Turning Dessa over, Threadfin discovered the princess was dead. Astra had used and controlled her. Made her do and say things she never would have otherwise. He felt both relieved at Dessa’s innocence, at least in this part of it, and horrified too.

Astra betrayed me, but I made a promise to keep her safe. It sounded so stupid yet he couldn’t help it. He found himself rocking Dessa’s body, thinking of Lorn. Coincidence, but no he didn’t believe in those. At times like these he envied breathers their ability to cry.

He glanced up to see the sorceress approach. He had no desire to do anything. To run or to fight. He couldn’t break his promise, any more than he could keep it.

‘Forget her,’ the Grim snapped, glaring down at the dead Atlantian princess. He stabbed a finger at Threadfin. ‘Together, she will not thwart us. You claim you are a guardian of this world? Stand and protect it.’

The Grim returned his attention to his foe. Light enveloped his outstretched arms, entwining his fingers. The floor around him buckled and split as fissures opened, spewing dust.

Astra had halted, light also enveloping her.

Two ancient spectral mages, thought Threadfin, and here I am stuck in the middle. One is my other half and one is someone I swore to protect. I guess, I have no side.

Creatures rose from the fissures, causing Astra to halt her advance. They had skin of various hues from blood-red to dark-blue, and black. Huge black-feathered wings and long pointed ears, thick brows and elongated faces filled with horns and teeth. Some had two arms, others five or six, all ending in talons or claws.

Denizens of the Styx or failed viral experiments maybe. Dozens clambered out while others flew, until scores of twisted forms arrayed themselves before the Grim to face down the sorceress. Threadfin recognised ghouls and the snake-like creatures who’d once tried to eat him.

Astra seemed undeterred, her face deadpan, though her gaze found Threadfin. What manner of person was she? Why did I promise to protect this woman? Why did Lorn ask ...? Something Adal had said struck home, and his mind drifted back to that fateful moment in the Styx.

She was clambering onto the parapet. ‘Goodbye, my undeader,’ she said in a low voice, turning to look back. ‘I never needed you to save me. I never asked you to, but you did it anyway. You cared for me when no one else did. This is all as I have planned it or near enough. If you want to do something for me, then protect our world from all of them ... and her too.’

‘Lorn ...’

She took one step, and fell from sight...

His mind returning to the present, Threadfin cursed himself for a fool. Protect the world from all of them ... and from her too. Lorn had known Astra was dangerous, but he’d misunderstood.

Presently, Nalrost made a brief gesture and the Styx’ forces attacked. Astra’s gaze found her old lover with a warm smile.

The creatures reached her in seconds with talons gleaming, teeth ready to rend flesh from bone.

She raised one finger.

A wave of hot light erupted to consume the beasts in a shrieking mass of burning flesh and feathers.

From high within the alcoves of Babel’s walls, distant figures began to writhe and vibrate. The alcoves themselves blackened from an otherworldly blight, before a soupy darkness smothered an entire inner wall of the tower. From it emerged huge monstrosities and Threadfin knew instantly what they were.

‘Titans,’ he whispered. The greatest Rift of the Fallen Ones thundered over the distance towards the sorceress. Naked, each reached over fifteen feet in height. Darkness oozed from their bodies in waves. Molten wings fanned outward; the white orbs set within their ridged faces seemed to find Threadfin.

Reaching her in moments they arranged themselves about her in a protective cordon, huge monstrosities to make the largest Nephilim quail.

‘Rasnal,’ called Astra, her voice carrying effortlessly. ‘My love, surrender to me and all will be well.’

The Grim stood still, watching her intently.

‘Rasnal ... surrender to me.’

He began to sway and Threadfin realised too late something was happening to him.

‘Rasnal, my love. Surrender.’

To Threadfin’s shock, the Grim crossed the short distance to her, feet crunching on the crushed bones of creatures he’d sent to attack her moments earlier.

‘What are you doing?’ the viral mage cried, but the Grim did not hear. Reaching her, the fool stepped into her embrace.

Darkness gathered to them in a storm, and within it, Threadfin discerned lightning. As they broke their embrace, a rotating ball of light formed within Astra’s cupped hands. It looked half formed as though not quite there. However, there was no mistaking what it was.

Astra held the Shathra Stone, or was close to it at least, and the Grim stood by her side grinning like a lovestruck fool. Instead of destroying him, she’d taken control of him, or else the Grim had suffered a catastrophic change of heart.

Threadfin groaned. Why did nothing work out the way it was supposed to? I hate being a mage.

The tower shuddered as power rippled across its walls in thunderous waves.

Uh oh.