The Forsaken Hero

Chapter 1157: No Rest for the Weary

"Oh, right. Oblivion." I sighed, hugging myself. "I’ve been thinking about it more and more, as we near the end of this war. To make the cycle anew will require an end to the old. Fate has no power there. Is that why she’s willing to ally with demons? Because only the infernal hold the power of Oblivion?"

"A dangerous question. What makes you think one like me would know?"

I looked at the blade demon, my brow furrowed. "Well...you know Fyren."

"And...?"

"Well, er...just a feeling, I guess. He’s not a normal fire demon, and you seemed to know him well. He sent you to protect me instead of any other demon."

"Circumstantial, more than anything. His resources were limited during that time."

"Have you ever seen an oblivion demon?"

The question seemed to take him off-guard. His brow furrowed as he fell into thought, then he shook his head.

"Oblivion is an enigmatic being even to us. He hasn’t taken an interest in anything for longer than I’ve held sentience. I’ve heard legends that the last time he stirred, he erased another emperor."

"Erased?"

He waved his hand, and his floated swords burst into stars. The light fizzled quickly, leaving nothing behind. "Gone. Torn from the cycle. Demons that die in a mortal world are returned to their infernal realm. If they are slain there, they sacrifice some of their gathered power to reform. But when he kills...there is no after. Or so I’ve heard."

He hadn’t answered my question, not really. But I sank into thought, absently rubbing my horn. Erased, was it? I couldn’t help but remember what Arantius had done to Rash’alon’s demons after they invaded Haven. Had he somehow drawn on Oblivion mana to do that? Was its presence in his soul the reason I felt so anxious around him? Fate and Oblivion stood against each other, after all. But...that didn’t make any sense. He was a Fate Hero, once.

And Fyren. That power he had called upon, the power that let him ignore the World Barrier. As if it wasn’t there at all. As if it hadn’t existed.

So many questions, so few answers.

It was nearly dawn when the Fable returned, leading an exhausted Star Guard. The Fatesworn skyship hovered low over the keep. In the closing acts of the battle, the skyknights had focused on searching for the wounded and survivors and were now unloading them onto the already-weary mages of the Crimson Guard. Celestial Grace was in its twilight hours, and once it failed, I knew few would remain conscious, much less standing. I’d asked too much of everyone.

"Kaheln," I said, yawning as I struggled to keep my eyes open. "Please, see to Evla. The battle outside didn’t go as favorably as ours."

He pressed a hand to his chest in a very human-like salute. "It shall be done. Might I feast on any foes I fell?"

I waved my hand dismissively, already turning to go. "Whatever. Just...don’t eat them. Please."

He showed a toothy grin and flew away, leaving Fable to guard Haven’s gate while I dismissed the Fatesworn. The skyship and its crew dissolved into Starlight, releasing the final burden on my soul. I patted the Aethereal Prism as they faded, grateful for its sustaining light. Why the church had wasted such a precious artifact on a ninth-level mana cannon was beyond me.

As I turned toward the gate, Rylam’s voice gave me pause.

"Xiviyah!"

I faced him, a relieved smile breaking across my face. He matched up, running up to me, his tail swishing. It reminded me a lot of Sari whenever she saw Fable.

"You’re alright," he said, looking me over.

My smile dimmed, and I nodded, a touch too quickly.

"Are you?" He hadn’t missed it and moved closer, taking my hands. His soft, gray eyes glistened, capturing my gaze. "What happened? Their auras were too fierce. I couldn’t get close, so I fought on the wall, but..."

"I saw him," I admitted.

His ears spiked in alarm. "Fate? He knows you’re here?"

"Yes, but...I don’t think he’s coming." I half-turned, my fingers slipping from his. I ran a hand through my hair. "I may have told him I would come to him."

"You mean you’ll fight?" He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I had hoped you might...after everything that’s happened..."

"Not?"

"Yeah. Not. We defeated a huge portion of their army here. You’ve done your part. Why not let the demon hordes do theirs? You could stay here, with me, in High Valley. I know you love this place. I can see it in your eyes."

"I can’t," I said softly, shaking my head. "Maybe, at one time, I would have loved that. Well," I scratched my cheek. "Not maybe. I would have. Living a quiet life, far away from war and pain, was all I wanted. Peace."

He opened his mouth, but then closed it again, and his face softened. "I’m sorry, there’s more I want to say, but I haven’t been very considerate. You’re half dead on your feet. I suppose you’ll want to enter there?"

He gestured at the gate, and I nodded, giving him a grateful look.

"Would it be alright if I saw it?"

I offered my hand, and he took it, smiling faintly. We entered Haven together, stepping out onto the uneven cobblestones of the entrance island. Remnants were immediately around us, but I spotted solid, substantial robes amid the mass. Rodrick. He caught my gaze and nodded, pressing through to us.

"Rylam, if you’ll follow me, I believe I can show you around."

I squeezed the foxkin’s hand before letting go, and whispering, "See you later."

Gathrin was the one who took his place, whisking me through the rabble of remnants to the Firstlight Inn.

"Rest, first, and then you can tell us everything that happened," he said.

"Couldn’t you see it?" I asked, suppressing a yawn.

He shook his head, his expression clouded. "When Fate appeared, Haven forcibly sealed your connection. It prevented him from looking inside the realm, or finding it within astral space, but it went both ways."

"Oh." I lowered my head, my tail twitching back and forth. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to spell it out and explain it.

He ruffled my hair, ignoring my protests, and left me in my room. I curled up on the bed, exhausted, and in seconds was asleep. But I’d spent too much time in the weave of fate today, and its influence wasn’t so easy to shake. No sooner had darkness surrounded me than shining stars appeared, and I found myself in my soul space.

I blinked, letting out a resigned sigh, as a vision appeared of its own accord. I was in an unfamiliar tavern, with the blazing hearth and a smoke-stained ceiling. The windows were grimy and gritty, and the patrons less than savory.

A table with four girls looked out of place amongst the rough crowd. Two of them wore fine silk dresses, delicate features, and long, pointed elvish ears. They looked down their noses at the others, but drank from cups just as crude. I knew their faces, had seen them just weeks before. Rochelle, Niece, and Kirla. Ronin’s companions. They looked tired and worn, with bags under their once beautiful eyes. Defeated.

The fourth girl was a rabbitkin, wearing a skimpy outfit with a low-cut blouse that revealed a crimson slave crest between her ample breasts. A slender collar encircled her neck, with a ring designed for a tether or chain. She wore her trappings with practiced ease, not looking at all concerned with the lecherous stares.

"Marge?" I whispered, tilting my head in confusion. The face was the same, but the mannerisms...no, it had to be. That was one of Alex’s slaves. We hadn’t spoken in years, but how else could there be a sixth-level mage as a slave?

"You mean they’ve heard nothing? Not a word?" Rochelle asked.

"It took me forever to get Alex to bring it up," Marge said. "But when he asked, the war hero had just vanished. Lord Fate even spoke, and said searching for him was fruitless."

"He says that about anything that doesn’t have to do with that slut." Kirla muttered.

"Or maybe it does. Why else would he bother to even comment?" Rochelle said, stroking her chin. "All the more reason to find her and make her pay."

Marge sat back, sipping at her drink. "Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Feels like a waste walking all the way out here just to tell you that much. "But I should be leaving soon. Alex will be wanting my company tonight. He said he wanted to try something new. Something with lots of rope, whatever that means."

The elves exchanged looks, their faces tightening slightly. "How uncouth," Rochelle muttered.

Marge giggled, a light flush staining her cheeks. "You might think that, but it’s a lot of fun. If you want, I can invite you to join. Just the two of us isn’t enough for him sometimes. He’s insatiable."

The mage wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "Gods, no. It was bad enough when Ronin came around, but at least he’s a man of principle."

"I don’t know why you never liked him," Kirla said, folding her arms. "He was strong and noble, and...gentle." Her face flushed, too, but she quickly patted her cheeks, forcing it away. "It was an honor to serve him."