Chapter Twenty

All moved from him as he made his way down the hall carrying the dirt and blood he had collected from the field. The Timewalker arriving stalled his plans terribly. Even Zhandoga could not stop the druid from allowing the Rakshar Empress from escaping, or the druid himself from leaving the battlefield. Everything he planed out and set into motion was almost ruined; a failure he would not accept.

Moving down the spiral stairs leading to the innermost part of the Blackroot, Joliel kept calculating the possible outcomes of his plans. He knew something would have to be done about the Timewalker. In one single move the druid had not only given himself and the Rakshar Empress and escape, but Joliel knew he was involved in Mora’s disappearance from the Pit.

Finally reaching the bottom he took the dirt and blood he carefully kept wrapped in his cloak to the altar that formed the center of the large cavernous room. Ignoring the slight tapping sound in the distance, carefully Joliel spread the dirt across the top of the altar. From the surrounding darkness, demon priests circled the altar and began a chant. With satisfaction, Joliel knew soon another demon lord would be brought through to help him in his planning.

The human soldiers of the Legions could only be counted on for so much and in the end they would fail. While one demon could be defeated by the Timewalker, an entire legion would be his end as well. Soon Methulas would join Zhandoga and the two demon lords would bring forth their own demon legions. Then finally, the south would fall and the Ministry would be purged of impure blood; he and the demons would be the true service to Rhiya.

Following the light tapping sounds, Joliel came into full view of the woman and the work she continued. Ahryn had arrived in silence and with a single chisel continued to etch out a history he did not know. Each time he attempted to reach beyond the physical to examine her, he was bit with a force so powerful, the first time it almost killed him. Without work or conversation, she began her work. Only after many weeks did she finally offer him her name. In his brief studies he knew the original Ahryn and surely this woman could not be her.

Ahryn had been the very first disciple of Rhiya, powerful with natural abilities in magic and one of the original bloodlines of the God’s. No, this woman tirelessly etching into the walls section by section was merely a carrier of the name.

Her etching however was intricate and the stories it told occupied hour upon hour for him. With each tale, his understandings and plans took new and more matured steps forward. The plague would continue to diminish the Rakshar and his demons would crush the south. In either case those he watched would continue to provide him the insight he wanted. As each piece fell into place Joliel knew he would bring Rhiya back to the lands and then all of those without the purest of blood would be removed from existence.

Standing only a few moments in front of the most recent etchings from Ahryn, Joliel left and made his way back up to the common proper of Blackroot. Zhandoga, released and angry, would want to move immediately against the South. But even that had to go in accordance to his plans or too many pieces would fall out of synch.

****

“Send agents to lock down Tabath while we take Ildomar. That will give us our first step into the south.” Joliel looked over the maps and could see it coming together like a puzzle. “With Ildomar and Tabath secured, Sarna is safe to continue their work and we can use the coastline to bypass Hnor. If we attempt Hnor, our hand will be turned out.”

Methulas added a new element to their plans. The moment he arrived, his demon legion took to the field. The new opportunities were something Joliel couldn’t resist. Methulas’ knowledge of the Rakshar proved to be the most beneficial addition, far beyond his troops. While Joliel didn’t know how the demon got information beyond his own, one fact was clearly evident; the Rakshar would not be entering the battle. Droves of them were moving back and forth between Dragonspine. Whatever their actions, there was no build up of troops, only minimal defense. The death of the Emperor put into the Empire into a state of distress. His poisoning had worked far greater than the old poison Rhiya first inflicted on them eons before and this time there was no Dragon Matriarch to save them.

“If you push this King of South all the way to Sorc, we should have easy access to control the south west all the way to Caulstic. If the Rakshar continue their retreat and we have to reason to believe otherwise, several squadrons stationed in Hknal will be sufficient to cover anything they send. Use what is left of Berric’s and Mora’s legion for that task.” Methulas remained quite the opposite of his taciturn counterpart Zhandoga. One a warrior and one a tactician.

“They won’t go through Hnor, too close to the Pikes.” Joliel agreed. “So indeed Hknal will provide the watch needed. The other concern however is here.” Joliel pointed to a smaller body of water.

“Have you been that far south to know if the Timewalker still resides at the old citadel?” Methulas questioned as he sat back.

“None. No squad has been back. Even those that are with us have been unable to return with anything. If they returned at all.” Joliel responded in thought. “However, what if we used the docks in Tabath to move a legion across Serpents Bay?”

“None of mine will cross that water. We remember too well when it was created. This squabble is nothing compared to the memory of that day.” Methulas responded quickly only to have Zhandoga grunt. Whether he approved or disapproved could not be known.

“If we need to press them to Sorc and bypass Hnor while we stay observant to the Timewalker’s last home, you are telling me your legions are unable?” Joliel questioned, his irritation rising.

“We can take the south east. You take the southwest. Those grounds are simply…” Methulas was interrupted by the shrill voice of Zhandoga.

“I will take my legions through. You simply get the host child on that side.” Zhandoga demanded. “I am her harbinger; I will be there when our great Mistress returns as I have always been. That ground is nothing but dirt to me.”

“I guaranty you the child will be there.” Joliel answered with a sly smile. “All will be as it should and she will return. Once Ildomar and Tabath are secure, the assault can begin. In the mean time I have some work to complete. If I am needed I will be at the altar.”

He asked for no leave, he simply stood and made his way back down to the cavern. In all of Blackroot, designed by his own hands, only in the cavern did he feel the warmth of his own power. Everywhere else just seemed to echo something reminiscent of the Ministry buildings he saw when he first arrived.

This was his. Every detail was as his mind saw it. The sounds provided the needed alarms and notifications to guarantee his privacy in meditations. Once Methulas arrived, the demon priests all moved to work at the field altars under Methulas’ guidance. Only the tapping remained, but he was already immune to that.

Very carefully he took a small container from next to the altar. Carefully, as a couple drops of blood landed with a tiny smack sound, he drew out the symbol from his mind. Immediately the physical world faded from him. His will launched him forward across terrain for several moments. Stopping suddenly he could hear voice, muffled and feint. Night had come upon him without realization, yet he had found his target. Not even the thunder and lightning could break his focus now. One heartbeat, small yet strong echoed even above the sound of the storm. Its essence immediately intertwined with his own. This was his daughter, but more importantly this was his conduit. It was time to send Mora a message.

Bridging the gap between the different existences, Joliel took the ring from his pocket. Charged with his own magic he thrust the needle portion back through her nose snapping it closed. Her own essence swirled against his assault, yet while she was in his grasp, her dream would continue and he could finish his work.

To his surprise the essence of the unborn child launched an attack against him. With a small smile of pride, he calmed the child and pushed the essence away, allowing him to get back to work. Carefully he found spoke to her words of his chant. Then as her breathing and that of the child slowed, he spoke plainly to her:

“The child is not safe you with you. It must be raised in the South, far away from the Ministry. Unlike you, this child must not be a puppet.” His words were soft and songlike.

Immediately, he retreated. As his worlds came back together, he collapsed exhausted, yet excited. The rituals Ahryn wrote on the walls worked, exactly as she etched them out. Still smiling, he curled up at the altar and fell asleep.

****

“You have been busy haven’t you?”

A voice pierced through his sleep followed by a rough kick to his ribs. Anger immediately filled him. Instantly his mind responded lashing out as his energy cackled and reverberated throughout the cavern. Opening his eyes, Joliel jumped to his feet as he unleashed his will into Amadagu. With a gut wrenching scream he released more energy at the druid as it seemed to be absorbed by the druid.

Each attempt was followed by Amadagu simply absorbing the magic infuriating Joliel more and more. He realized he was being trapped as fatigue began to set into his mind. The chuckle emanating from the druid sent him to the brink of insanity. Finally catching Amadagu in surprise, he lunged his body into the druid, knocking him to the ground.

Maneuvering quickly, Joliel grabbed the druid’s face and released his power directly into the tangled mess of hair and skin. With a roar, Joliel felt his body lift backwards into the air off Amadagu as fire encased the older man and exploded. As he hit the wall, the world threatened to blacken for him. Snapping his mind back to attention, Joliel scrambled back to his feet as the Amadagu walked menacingly toward him with his eyes and skin still emanating flames.

Every mental volley he tried was once again absorbed by the druid. For the first time since he took over Blackroot, Joliel felt fear creep into his mind and body. Never previously had anyone refused to submit to his power. Stripped of his pride, he could feel the Timewalker’s magic filling the cavern. It was the type of power he had wanted and worked for. There was a refinement to it, a finesse Joliel could admire yet in such, he knew at that moment his life was in true danger.

Abandoning his powers, Joliel moved to charge the druid again, yet quickly learned his error. Reaching out the druid landed a heavy fist into his left cheek. Warm blood dripped down his cheek. As he moved to wipe it, Amadagu exploded fire into his face. Only through instinct did he manage to protect himself just in time. While his physical focus was lost, Joliel felt his arm twist behind him as his body was spun away.

“You spite filled cur. For a thousand years I have battled those stronger than you and none were so foolish as to assume my power was trapped in the mystical.” Amadagu’s words were loud and echoing. Forcefully he shoved Joliel to the ground. “Do not get up and do not attempt to use your will. If you do it will feed back and begin ripping through your mind.”

Fearful of the man’s words, Joliel gently tested only to find his mind suddenly on fire. While he was not physically restricted, his mind and power were somehow shackled.

“Good I see I have you attention Seom. While you have the powers of those before you, you would be better served on knowing the past that created them.” Amadagu kicked him again harshly. “You will taste your own cruelty before this day is over, that I promise you.”

Joliel sensed the truth in the Timewalker’s words and once again fear filled every part of him. “I have not done anything to you Timewalker. Why have you assaulted me?” He was trying everything to clear his trapped mind.

“Oh, were you looking for fairness when you have offered none? What you have done to those around you, your own ally is cause for your own suffering and you ask for fairness!” Amadagu struck him again with a fist to his temple, causing the world to swirl around him.

“Rhiya will…” The words barely left his mouth before yet another kick was delivered to his ribs by the druid. Roughly he coughed as blood filled the back of his throat.

“Let me give you a reminder boy of how I feel about your god.”

Amadagu snatched him up by his hair. Brandishing the ring Joliel immediately recognized as the one he used on Mora during her dream, a shiver ran through him. Violently the stem was slowly pierced through boney bridge of his nose. Twisting it back and forth as it was worked through, Joliel could see small flames jumping into his skin. While he fought back the pain he could feel his skin burn as bits of smoke tasted foul in his mouth.

Unable to stop himself, his will reached forward and Joliel felt his physically body convulse and collapse before him. Retreating into the vapors of the mystical, he could finally see the chains around him. All around him images of the Timewalker watched and adjusted to every movement. Even the druid’s voice broke through and filled his senses; “you cannot hide here”, it taunted him.

Everything became a nightmare he couldn’t escape. With every turn and move Joliel felt more and more pain. As he tried to scream out he found no voice, as he tried to reach out, he found no form. Panic filled him as hands seemed to reach into him and pull his essence away from his physical body. Fire consumed him completely and Joliel knew he was dieing. With the last energy he could must, he lashed out in futility. Finally give gave up his essence and allowed darkness to consume him.

****

Slowly and painfully Joliel opened his eyes to see demon priests surrounding him as Methulas used a dagger tipped with blood to etch symbols into his skin. To his surprise he could feel nothing. Finally his eyes met with Methulas.

“Sleep and recover Seom, there is still much word to do.” Methulas was calm and methodical as he continued to work. “The Timewalker has ripped you asunder, this will take time. Sleep.”

“Release everything against the South.” Finally Joliel found his voice and his words were simple and direct. “Kill everyone and everything that has touched him. Use his blood to raise her.”

Magic filled his head forcing him back to sleep. Quickly Joliel tried to fight against it. Nothing responded he couldn’t even feel his own essence. Unable to fight, blackness engulfed him again.

****

Sitting up, Joliel found his body responded quickly. Carefully he examined his body, covered in glyphs he could not read or understand. Yet his body felt strong, yet famished beyond any hunger he had ever felt. Anger filled him as he saw the glimmer of metal under his eyes. Carefully he reached up and found the ring still pierced the bone of his nose. He knew it was magically sealed to him, yet he could not feel its existence. Remembering his earlier waking, he felt for his essence and sighed in relief as he found it surrounding him. Energy quickly began to fill him.

Reaching out further he tried to feel the familiar life and death of Blackroot. He felt nothing beyond himself. Struggling harder, still he could feel nothing. Naked under his glyphs, he stood up and tested his legs without issue. To his surprise the ground was cold and almost alien to him. Joliel felt nothing reaching out anchor him as he had become accustomed to. Something was very wrong.

Slowly Joliel made his way out of his room and down the steps. He had not been in the upper chambers of Blackroot in a very long time. Once he descended to the main, he was shocked to find several demon guards at the bottom entry. At his arrival, they snapped to attention.

“Lord Seom, we are your personal guards and are to escort you to Zhandoga and Methulas.” As the guard spoke, Joliel noticed he was completely armored. Giving him a quick nod, they moved slowly to his meeting room.

“Good, you are finally up. Your kind takes longer to recover. We have started without you, Ildomar has fallen.” Methulas spoke quickly and pointed the guards to a seat for Joliel.

“How long?” Joliel questioned as he looked at the battle map that showed skirmishes all along the front to the south.

“Seven lunar cycles.” Zhandoga stated harshly. “Too long to wait.”

“We could no longer keep the troops inactive. They were beginning to get restless so we continued our original plan. Tabath is fortified and Ildomar is now ours. Your human legions are along the coast in the Marvan Valley, entrenched against the King of the South.” Methulas report was quick to cut off his counterpart.

“What happened to me?” Joliel lost all patients over the lost time and swept his arm across the map scattering the markers. “I want to know what these are. Why can’t I feel anything beyond myself?”

“Seom, the Timewalker ripped your will from you. Those glyphs are holding your essence together. If you are able to regain some power...” Methulas was quickly interrupted.

“IF! What do you mean if?” Joliel cried out.

“There is no guaranty. Your body recovered first, your mind will do what it can.” The demon responded flatly.

“There most certainly is.” Before Methulas could respond, Joliel was upon him, slicing his throat wide, immediately covering his hands with the demon’s blood.

Zhandoga heavily knocked Joliel off Methulas, sending him crashing into the table. Without pause, Joliel was back on his feet, pulling his tunic back carved a new glyph in his stomach.

“I am the Seom, do you think I was not prepared to use even your kind in the service to Rhiya. His blood will be used to bring my powers back. If you prefer, I can use yours.” Joliel dared Zhandoga as the blood of the demon was already mixing with is own in the new cut. Once again, though only faint, he could feel Blackroot coming alive.

“I am here in service Master Seom, as Rhiya bids it so.” Zhandoga took a knee.

Joliel’s anger filled him completely. “I want my child here now at any cost. Rhiya will be reborn.”