Final Excerpt from Alexan’s Ninth Journal, The Great Crusade.

I cannot say I was never warned.

Tiny Krish, quiet Verily, dedicated Katarcs, strange Pearl, distracted Hendoveran, passionate Vulcan, brooding Wertik and even laughing Stonepaw. Every single one of you warned me of what you saw, what you observed happening to me.

I wish I could apologize, but I suspect my last honest and coherent thought will have to remain on this page. I am sorry, and I love you all.

Healer Meyla

[The chosen is near,] the fragment of the Sentinel whispered to her.

“Oh well, I suppose it’s off to the tower, then,” Meyla replied, pausing in the middle of digging. She stuck her spade into the soft earth of the floating pad and stood up. She stretched her arms high, feeling her joints and her spine pop as she flexed. With her head bent back during the stretch, she looked up through the underglade to see the tower hanging over her with the main disk of the village blocking her vision of the upper levels.

Currently, Meyla was standing at the lowest level of the Heart underglade that held the tower. She didn’t know how the Sentinel knew Tal was nearby, but then, its whole purpose was to guide the chosen to the pedestal.

The fragment said no more, carefully husbanding the last dregs of its strength. Dregs that Meyla had worked furiously to maintain. Every time she channeled pure aether, it drained the fragment of power, and she’d been heavily involved in healing the wardens who had come back injured a few days ago. Meyla could swear looking after the thing had cost her more years off her life than her daughter Hadasa. And unlike with Hadasa, Meyla hadn’t enjoyed the process.

She stuck her left hand in a pocket and drew out a small gem fruit pit. It wasn’t much, just enough to give someone a buzz. Meyla held the small thing between her thumb and first two fingers, feeding it just enough aether to release the message within. Hopefully, Seft would be close enough to receive it.

It was tough to say. There were only a handful of wardens who felt the same way as Seft. Most of them were entirely loyal to Darisen and his unflinching determination to keep the barrier up.

Events might be about the pop, but the underglade remained as serene as always. Meyla could hear her neighbor, two pads over, digging in the dirt and singing to himself. And there was a conversation going on in a house somewhere above and behind her.

Meyla dusted off her apron, then reached behind herself to undo the knot. She pulled the upper loop over her head and let it drop next to the spade she’d buried in the earth. The gem fruit pit followed the apron into the dirt.

Message sent, Meyla started moving.

Careful not to run, she made her way off the garden plot towards the lower tower.

She’d never been aware of any way into the lower tower. Not until recently. Not until the Sentinel had whispered to her during moments of opportunity.

The sentinel had told her how to get in, and then in the next breath it had told her she could only just step into the door. Any deeper and it was extremely dangerous. The Sentinel had been explicit in its warnings. But she could look, and from there, she could help, just a bit. Help the Sentinel figure out just what Darisen had done to the seal that ensured the death of the chosen.

Meyla’s hooves sounded far too loud in her ears as she marched up the ramp from the walkway. She felt like she was being watched, even though she knew no one had any reason to do so.

Up another ramp, around a walkway, turn a corner and pass a hanging house, turn another corner, and one final walkway.

Meyla stopped at the wall of the tower. The thing looked the same from the very base of the underglade up to the center plane upon which the main floor stood. She could still remember trading rumours with childhood friends, wondering if the tower went all the way down the taproot of the Hollow Home.

Meyla shook her head. Staring at the wall certainly wasn’t going to do anything. She placed her hand on the wood.

[Wakey, wakey,] she sent to the fragment lodged in her belly.

It flared and she felt the weight of it tug on her. The thing felt like it had found a way to nestle itself up against her seed.

[Channel aether through your right hand, but try not to control it.]

“Very well,” Meyla replied. She circulated her aether with the ease of long practice, pushing it out her right palm. She felt the trickle of dark mana leave her palm, tugged along using her natural flow, only to sink into the wood as soon as it touched the surface of the wall.

The reaction was immediate. The wood grain separated into large strands of wood that pulled away like narrow curtains, opening the way for Meyla to step forward.

She lifted her left hand before her face, fending off the kaleidoscope of light shining out from within.

[Remember, stop an arm’s length from the railing.]

“I remember.”

Meyla walked forward, keeping her hand high as she accustomed her eyes to the light, although she didn’t have to go far.

The inside of the tower hurt Meyla’s eyes, even as she adjusted to the light. As she exited the corridor, she arrived at a four-way junction: the path from which she’d arrived, two wide walkways extending along the sides of the massive chamber, and one that led inwards.

Meyla craned her head upwards to try to get a glimpse of the sources of the light assaulting her eyes.

She had to look away from the center of the chamber, the space occupied by a massive shaft of light extending into the distance below. Around that blinding beam existed the intricate lattice of enchantments that maintained the barrier, every element represented in the geometric network that filled the entirety of the space.

It left Meyla in awe.

[Those aren’t supposed to be there.]

“What? Which? I can’t make sense of it,” Meyla replied.

A mental nudge drew Meyla’s eyes to four chains of mana, swirling with light and dark. The first chain was anchored in front of her on the walkway proceeding into the chamber. Three more had been set down at equidistant points around the chamber, where matching walkways led into the shaft of light. The chains rose up to meet the pillar right where it met the ceiling of the chamber. More white and black lines radiated out along the ceiling, touching every point where the original lattice met the surface.

[Darisen’s enchantment. I must ask more of you than I intended Meyla.]

“What do you need me to do?”

[One link, if you can break one link, the enchantment will come apart. I had intended to rejoin the sealing enchantment, but there is so much more here than I expected. I couldn’t see any of this from within, but from outside, there is more than can be done. I will instead aid you as much as I can.]

Meyla breathed in, plucked up her courage, and ran in, her hooves clattering on the wood.

A link of the nearest chain was half sunk into the platform, surrounded by a dais of hollow wood. It had been further decorated with glimmer tree wood and traces of gold and silver to enhance the anchor.

Meyla put her hands on the surface of the wood and pushed her aether into the anchor of the enchantment.

She could feel the fragment guide her touch. Meyla pushed more aether here, pulled a little out there and the anchor shifted, ever so slightly. And moved no more.

[Mmmm~ that’s interesting,] A woman’s voice commented. [Oooo, you’re carrying a fragment of my babysitter! How unfortunate for you.]

[Oh no,] the Sentinel whispered, [I will protect you as much as I can, Meyla]

Meyla flinched as she felt something looking at her.

[Do you need a little help there? Yes? No? Too late, here it is!]

From the center of the ceiling, a thick cord of mana lashed out. No single hue, it radiated colour like a sheen of oil. It struck Meyla in the chest. Mana coursed from Meyla’s chest through her arms and into the anchor. The Sentinel groaned, attempting to absorb the mana and keep Meyla’s seed from being overwhelmed. The Anchor cracked, the fissures glowing the same oily randow sheen.

The woman’s voice spoke again, but distant as she focused elsewhere. [Sentinel~ wake up, you’re needed again, this one might go a little different~]

“What is GASP she doing?!”

[She is calling on the new gestating copy of myself! Pay it no mind!]

Meyla barely heard the Sentinel, but she did feel it let go, passing from herself to the cracking link. Suddenly the chain snapped.

The dais exploded, throwing Meyla back and away. She smashed into the wall of the chamber and slid to the floor.

Unnamed Talkarn

Tal pulled his right hand away from his face.

Seeing the shattered remnants of the gnarl club in his fingers and palm brought the pain to the forefront of Tal’s mind and his hand shivered with pain. How much of the blood on his hand was from the slivers and how much from his bleeding cheek, he didn’t know.

Tal looked up at the pedestal.

Wisps of smoke and sparks of light hung about the prison, more of that same smoke and glitter rising from the floor of the entire chamber. Tal guessed the enchantment that maintained the dome had been laid into the entirety of the tower floor. The ambient mana must have been siphoned from the barrier and the seal.

“How? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

Tal’s head whipped to the right, in the direction of Darisen’s voice. The concussion of the popped dome had knocked everyone off their feet, but the ancient Erlkin had been the first to recover.

“It’s all gone! Who… someone is below.” Darisen’s voice rippled out, carried by the energy in the air.

“No matter,” Darisen continued, visibly setting aside his surprise. “The three of you remain... insufficient.”

The ambient mana about him swirled as Darisen cast another spell. With so much energy in the air, the dark, wind, and earth mana swirling from his staff sparkled as it moved to his feet. Darisen crouched, and leapt for the pedestal.

A whip of blue and black wrapped itself around one of his ankles. Nolsa, holding the other end of the ship, yanked the old Erlkin downwards. Nolsa was on her left hand and knees, her hair hanging loose. Tal could see blood dripping from her head and one of her spiral horns had broken.

“What are you doin’ boy!” Perkay shouted. He’d stood from behind the ravaged shelter of his wood, face bleeding and jerkin torn. Thrusting his right hand forward, Perkay launched a beam of light and fire of his own.

Darisen cut the whip of water and dark with a swipe of his staff, and Tal could see the ambient dark and light mana gathering around his hand to catch the beam.

And Tal could feel the mana soaking into him. Just how much had Darisen had invested in that shield? Was there something else? Tal rolled forwards onto his knees, supporting himself with his left hand while cradling his right hand close. He looked at the body of the Sentinel, shook his head, and awkwardly tried to sweep it into his arm.

It’s body had gone stiff, the enchantment that had kept the wooden feathers as soft as the real thing having dissipated. Tal grabbed it by the neck and stood up. He wobbled in place, his sense of balance taking several long moments to catch up to him.

Perkay’s sunbeam hadn’t ceased, still burning out from his palm.

Darisen gestured with his staff, swirling it about to gather ambient mana around the tip. The gathering cloud formed itself into a disc that threw off sparks and smoke as it spun. When he was satisfied, Darisen flicked his staff forward to launch the disc.

Tal shook his head and moved for the pedestal, step after step.

Perkay grasped with his other hand drawing up a heavy tendril of wood. The glowing disc struck the thick tendril of wood and deflected off, but only partially. It sliced through Perkay’s thigh as it flew, burrowing into the floor behind him moments after.

Perkay’s concentration faltered and the beam went with it.

Nolsa covered for the old Erlkin by covering Darisen in fire. A massive gout of flame blasted out from her medallion, completely obscuring the Elder in fire.

A shockwave of mana blasted out from Darisen, scattering Nolsa’s fire. Only for him to be pelted with bullets of dark mana.

Tal arrived at the pedestal and dropped the wooden hawk from his hand.

Darisen’s left hand rose, white light gathering at his palm and expanding to catch the projectiles. “Ha!” Darisen shouted, firing the bullets back at Nolsa.

She recoiled from the barrage, her head thrown back.

“Darisen!” Perkay shouted,

Darisen turned in time for Perkay to throw his dagger. Again he gathered the ambient mana, white and dark mixing together in front of him. The dagger passed through with ease and sunk into Darisen’s stomach.

The surprise on his face was obvious.

“Made from my own horns! Perkay shouted, left hand tapping on the black nubs on his forehead “How do you like it?”

“Impressive,” Darisen replied, “But not enough.” The gathered mana lanced out in a straight spike, piercing Perkay through the chest.

[Tal!] the Sentinel whispered.

The voice pulled him back to reality. Not stopping to consider the Sentinel still being alive despite it's wooden body, Tal put his hand on the pedestal.

The same barrier that had kept Tal out returned, but this time without the light. Only shadow surrounded Tal, but with it surrounding him, he could see no more.

A pale hand reached out of the light absorbing center of the pedestal, grabbed Tal by the throat and dragged him in.

[I’ve waited so long for someone to talk to.]

End Chapter