Beyond the Wilderness [Campaign Fiction]

[VictorK]

The companion piece to The Wilderness which can be read here: http://www.ulthuan.net/forum/cms_view_a ... hp?aid=309

Beyond the Wilderness

For the second time, he awoke.

“We are not what we used to be.” The lioness seemed to perceive his waking, even as she looked into the distance. “But even we forget, begin to doubt that such things ever were or could possibly ever be again.” She looked back to him. “And if we forget, as mortals do, should it not be possible to forgive?” He blinked back at her. Most of the outward signs of her struggle with the Harlot had disappeared but it was clear that she was still wounded, the power which had flowed from her so readily now dim and weak. “We should be safe now.” She concluded, looking away from him again.

He sat up, and the calm of the air told him that he was still in the wilderness. He tried to move, to shake off the lethargy that had settled in his bones during his sleep. When he tried to stand, to see what the lioness saw, he cried out and tumbled back to the dirt. The images of what had come previously (it was still twilight in the wilderness, and he sensed that time had little meaning) flooded back to him, the anguished cries of the souls devoured by the unfeeling Harlot echoing in his head until he thought that they would split his soul. He saw the face of the maiden who had guided him to the plaza, only to be consumed and annihilated by that awful vortex. When the visions subsided he was on all fours, sweating and panting into the dirt beneath him.

The lioness watched impassively. She sat on her haunches, tail lazily swishing behind her as she studied the wretched being before her. “Is that all?” She murmured, expectance and perhaps even derision thick in her tone.

“Why…” the wretched one coughed into the sand, bringing his left hand to his parched throat. He looked towards the lioness, pain and confusion evident as his sunken eyes stared towards her regal form. “Why did you save me?” He forced out his first full thought and rubbed his throat while waiting for the reply.

“Because you are different from those we left behind.” The lioness replied. “One way or another, they were doomed…But no one deserves their fate.” She turned, rising up to her full height. “Come. There is much that you have to see. You are the only one, in this vast wilderness, for whom this view will have any meaning.” She began to turn, tail lashing almost angrily at the air in order to beckon the wretched one forward.

“No.” He demanded. He tried to regain his feet, wobbling slightly before he stood before her. At his defiance something flared in the lioness, a spark of the divinity that had stood down the Harlot and managed their escape. The pale light returned to her pelt, glowing against the dim backdrop of the thick wilderness. Her eyes dared him to continue. He rose to the challenge. “How am I different?” He demanded, even daring to take a step forward. “They…she…was beautiful?” He examined his hands and froze. His protest died as he looked up towards the lioness, eyeing her flank and trying to find the bloody mark his hand had left there. It was gone.

“She was beautiful because she was my sister.” The lioness replied curtly. “As you are my brother. We have the same mother. The ones who were devoured…They are called elves. They are the most favored of my mother’s children.”

“Am I an elf, or am I like you?” The wretched one asked her. A beat passed, and he continued. “Why am I not…perfect like them? Or you?”

The lioness regarded him for a long moment, but did not reply. She turned away, as she had before, but now her feet carried her back to her original perch and beckoned for the wretched one to follow. When it became apparent that the silence was final he at last acquiesced and walked after the lioness. After the battle she had brought him through the wilderness to the top of a hill. The same trees that seemed to stretch on forever ringed the clearing save for a gap that allowed anyone who cared to look a view of the countryside for miles. When he stepped to the edge, right at the lip of a sheer cliff, the horizon seemed to rush up to him and the ground to plummet away. He gasped, taking a step back. The lioness intervened, placing her body behind his legs so that he could not retreat from the view that was rushing towards him. “Behold, the world beyond this wilderness.”

The endless dark and grey that filling the gaps in the forest seemed to light up as the lioness spoke. It was not a soft light like that which emanated from the immaculate elves before they had been devoured. This was a multicolor of red, yellow, and other strong colors that hurt his eyes to look at. He could hear distant cries that echoed through the shallow valleys up to his lofty peak, cries that carried the unfamiliar emotions of brutal lust and anguish. “What you see,” the lioness began, “is what remains of the home of those beings who you saw devoured. Can you feel the malice in this vision?” He could. It was like he was in the presence of the Harlot again, that overwhelming aura that seemed to race down from his eyes into his very core and hold him captive. It was dim, but it was powerful. “Do you feel anything else?” There was a sense of revulsion in his stomach, but it was giving way to another sensation. He could feel that brutal call, and feel it challenge something inside of him. He was answering it with his own cry, feeling a warmth he had not felt before start to surge through his bones. It gave him strength, and whispered for his will to use it.

“No!” The lioness shouted, her power flaring. The wind that seemed to carry the sensations up to the peak restored the colorful markings that had first been apparent on her pale form. The calm, and the warning that she exuded soon calmed the feeling within him. When it was gone, he noticed that his left hand was aching He dared not look at it. “That has always been your weakness.” The lioness hissed. “To accept what was so readily apparent on the surface before understanding the true nature of what you faced. You have always been afraid to look beneath the easy motives and quick solutions to reckon with the reality of the universe. You are impetuous, when you believe you are careful, you are greedy, when you believe you are gracious, you rush to blood, when doing so unleashes a tide that will wash you away.” He had no reply and allowed the moment to hang between them. “Look again.” He did.

It was difficult to sift through that malice and the anguished cries that demanded justice. They were seductive, to respond to a challenge on the one hand and to succumb to victim hood on the other. It was only the reassuring and steadying presence of the lioness that kept him from lapsing back into the rush that his body was beginning to crave. But, at last, he found the voice that lurked beneath both calls. Pain stung him in his chest. A child was wailing, a soul cried out in woe. Underneath all of it was nothing more than pain. It was silent at the same time that it rang in his ears. It was an absence of anything meaningful, but that in itself carried the weight of the world and inspired the degeneration that propelled the conflicts below him forward. It was all he could do to take a breath when he began to glimpse the reality.

“And this…” He began, his throat dry and choked, “…Is what befell those we left behind?”

As a way of reply the horizon drastically expanded. There was no warning; no words of preparation offered to the wretched one until he beheld what seemed to be the entire world. He fell to his knees. What he had seen before was a microcosm of the despair that choked off life throughout the wilderness. The pain, the utter emptiness of the insistent cries for blood, lust and death left him unable to respond. Save for a few enclaves of golden light where some miracle had stemmed the tide there was no end to the roiling mass of warning light that seemed to send up the entire world into a conflagration. He could not find his feet, and it took him several seconds more to find his words. “How…who….” He almost sobbed, but controlled himself. “What is responsible for this?”

“There is one name that you need to know.” The lioness replied, her voice utterly calm. “Malekith.’

He didn’t know the name. He couldn’t know the name; it was the first that had ever been spoken to him. “Malekith.” He repeated, testing the foreign word.

“There was a time.” The lioness began. “When this darkness was contained in the heart of one being. Malekith was empty in his heart, and this drove him to give birth to a son. This son soon rose up to challenge his father, who had cursed him with the same emptiness. He slew Malekith, and from his corpse the emptiness that he had kept within himself spilled out to devour much of the world.”

“Malekith.” The wretched one replied, his fingers digging into the dirt at his side as he listened to the story. “Is there a way to undo what he has done? I cannot stand this.” He replied. “It eats at me in a way that the death of the maiden did. I can feel it trying to devour me too.”

“Our mother is the same way.” The lioness replied, a note of sadness entering into her voice. “She loves this world so, and to see it in such pain causes her to weep endlessly. They have turned from tears to love to tears of despair, tears that I could no longer stand.” She rose up to her feet. “Take the time that you need, but we cannot linger here or anywhere. Our enemies, the avatars of this fallen world, know that we are in the wilderness and will waste no effort in seeking us out.”

The wretched one nodded, but he could not tear his gaze away from the tapestry of misery that was laid out before him. He would find his legs soon enough, but as the lioness suggested it would take time. “Do I have a name?” He asked.

The lioness stopped. “Yes.” She replied after a moment’s hesitation. Another passed before she gave it. “It is Aikhen.”

***

Slender fingers worked over a violent orb and coaxed out the power that was just awakening within. Morathi, Queen of the Elves, sat in the highest tower of Tor Anlec and faced eastward, her eyes closed. Her lips moved but made no sound as her fingers moved over the forbidden artifact. She was alone in the cold tower. She was not dressed for it, her lithe form covered in a light gown that clung to her sensual curves. She rolled her neck, tongue slipping from behind her teeth to wet the center of her full lips. “I see you…” She whispered at last, opening her eyes. They swirled violet, the power of the stone absorbed into her frame. “You are as handsome as I remember.” She cooed, her back arching as a smile crossed her beautiful features.

A dark form welled up in front of Morathi, absent from the tower but visible to her enchanted eyes. It unfurled like an oncoming storm, filling all available space and then pushing back the walls when the tower dared to constrain it. Soon it loomed over the great elven metropolis, utterly dwarfing the Queen with whom it had come to converse. Three eyes, one golden and set above the others stared down at her. “DO YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ME AS YOUR MASTER?” The voice boomed like thunder.

Ah, Alith Anar. Morathi smiled up at the towering figure. She took a moment in her reply as she considered the visage of the Everchosen manifested before her. He was so young, she thought. All that power, and he could not control it. Surely, he could not be trying to intimidate her. “You are my master.” She replied softly, her smile never wavering. “Until such time as you are not.”

“I AM COMING.” Alith Anar replied.

“I know.” Morathi answered, as if speaking down to a child who had shown her something that all people came to realize in due time. “I am preparing for you homecoming as we speak.”

“I MUST NOT BE HINDERED. MUCH DEPENDS ON THE FIRST DAYS.”

“Of course, my master. I have arranged so that those who can be counted on to…stand aside will be in place at the right moments. And the isles erected by my son and his sorcerers to deter your…flimsy ships will be the first to greet you with open arms. All preparations that you have requested have been made.” Among others, Morathi did not add. Still, the concerns that were hidden from Alith Anar tingled at the back of her mind. “My liege.” She began. “What of the Cult of the Pantheon? Have they figured into your plans?”

“WHO WOULD FOLLOW A COWARD GOD AND HIS CHILDREN?” And with that, the matter was settled. “YOU FAIL ME, MORATHI.” The Everchosen continued, abandoning any title that Morathi laid claim to. “REMOVING BARRIERS AND SENDING FOOLS TO MAN YOUR BORDERS IS ONE THING, DEFEATING A PEOPLE IS ANOTHER!”

“Do not pass judgment on me so quickly.” Morathi barely held back a girlish giggle at the Everchosen’s impetuous nature. “For all of his failings my son always knew how to shake up those beneath him. Soon I will announce that the living shrine to the King of All Elves, where his body was interred after you so artfully defeated him my lord, inspires disloyalty and undermines his kingdom. Malekith shall be given a proper disposal, and all the heads of the great houses of Ulthuan will be obligated to attend.” Morathi grinned, “Naturally, only those sympathetic to our cause shall return home. Ulthuan will be mine, and by extension yours, my Everchosen.”

“SCHEMES AND NOTHING MORE, HAG.” Alith Anar replied, his astral form roiling with barely suppressed rage.

Morathi smiled knowingly. “What other choice do you have, oh mighty chosen of Chaos, than to trust and depend upon me? I am the chosen of Slaanesh, Alith Anar. You may hold the keys to power today, mighty warrior, but when you have accomplished what your *masters* have demanded of you it is I who will be installed on the throne of this world. You are a puppet, Everchosen. Do not ever forget that. When all this is swept away, and our alliance is ended, we will see where power truly lies.”

“NONE ARE CHOSEN.” These were Alith Anar’s final words before his form began to retreat, and the small tower sanctum was returned to Morathi alone. The elf queen gasped as the power retreated from her. Her chest heaved and her skin glistened with sweat from the exertion and her time in the presence of such an unrestrained power, but she wore a smile. She began to laugh. Soon, so soon everything would be clear, and her power would be absolute.

***

Aikhen rode on the lioness’ back through the thick wilderness. His legs were restored but they were still not as swift as the divine beast in full stride. She had taken a high road that he could not even perceive, but he knew that it was like the peak that she had first brought him to. He remembered his first run through the wilderness, when it had seemed dead. Now it was teeming with the same malicious life that he had not long ago discovered. Aikhen felt that if they stopped those lights might destroy them, but the lioness was in full stride and full regalia as she ran. Every light they passed was another scene in the story of the world beyond the wilderness that was unfolding around him. Ruins stuck up from the tree tops, shattered towards and broken mountains that told a tale he could not quite grasp. The scene was the same all around him, pain and emptiness at every leap and every turn. But none of them stuck in his mind as clearly as that first encounter with the Harlot.

Had Malekith been responsible for that as well? The maiden’s eyes continued to pierce him. Every now and then Aikhen caught a glimpse of those horrible vortices that devoured souls by the thousands. How many times had that scene at the ruins of the great city been repeated? How many more had walked, wailing, to the death that awaited them? How many others had been fooled into believing that their calls of anguish had been beautiful songs, and followed them to annihilation? He didn’t dare to think that his experience had been at all unique, or that beautiful face that had looked into his was alone. It was all around him, emptiness retreating into a void where it would be ground down into something that was entirely unrecognizable. He was watching a world die, one face at a time.

Aikhen looked down to where his fingers were twisted in the lion’s coat. Blood soaked the beast’s pale fur, oozing out of the pores of his left hand. There was a dull ache in his palm where the blood flowed slowly but ceaselessly; apparent only if he focused on the bloody act itself. He was beginning to recognize that he was truly different from the others in this wilderness, he was imperfect, but he had survived, he had the capacity to learn, but he was ignorant. A thousand weaknesses held him back from thinking that he was the equal of the lioness, but the spark of something more divine and the miracle of survival and blood would not allow him to concede that he was destined to be devoured like all the others. Eventually, perhaps, but not until he could confront this world around him. As devastating as these glimpses of the wider world were, he felt that they were by no means permanent. The world stood on the threshold, waiting to fall one way or the other.

Things began to slow down. The wilderness was no longer a blur interspersed with lights and ruins but a thing starting to regain some of its lost definition. The lioness was bringing their long run to a close. Aikhen started to awaken as if from a third sleep. He was not aware of how long their journey had actually taken, but he was beginning to suspect that the nagging itch at the back of his mind, time, was meaningless. The color of the sky never changed, except where it was touched by the stars or the horrible green emanations from the moon. The wilderness was stillborn, a place where all the incredible potentials of life had been snuffed out and frozen forever.

The lioness came to an abrupt halt, and forced Aikhen’s vision forward. He almost gasped at what lay stretched out before him. It was empty, a solid reflective surface that stretched out as far as the horizon. It mimicked the sky, but to Aikhen it appeared more like a desert. He couldn’t imagine crossing such a thing. It seemed to be the end of the world. If the wilderness was stillborn then this thing had never been conceived, never had the potential for life at all. “We have come to the end of the wilderness.” The lioness told Aikhen. “This is the sea.” A cold wind rushed off of that flat surface, bringing tiny grains of sand into the faces of the two travelers. The pair was perched on a great sand dune overlooking a pale beach that lay between them and the sea. A pinprick of light caught Aikhen’s eye.

The lioness’ chest rumbled as she began to pad down the soft slope. “He is not usually so careless as to be seen from such a distance.” She murmured to herself, her own gaze fixed on the light that flickered on the beach. “But I suppose that makes our task all the easier. I suppose that he would expect us.”

“He?” Aikhen asked.

“The ferryman.” The lioness replied before taking a leap off of the last portion of the sand dune. Aikhen held tight, squirming and the blood soaked into her fur oozed between his fingers. Their combined weight threw up a plume of dust from the parched beach. The lioness trod carefully over the fine grains of sand and left large tracks behind her with each step.

“Should we cover them?” Aikhen asked as he turned his head to look back over the way they had come.

“It should not matter.” The lioness replied. “Where we’re going no one from the wilderness can follow. If the agents of the demiurgi find us it will be too late.” There was a note of triumph in her voice as she focused on the flame flickering in the distance. It seemed to shimmer, and then lioness gave a surprised yelp. The fine sand shifted away from her broad paws, sinking the beast up to her elbows. She struggled beneath Aikhen, but was held fast. He started to slip off of her back before she barked back at him, “Stay put!” At the command he had no choice but to obey.

“So careless, my lady!” The voice, quivering with barely suppressed glee emanated from the very air around the pair. The distant flickering light detached itself from the landscape and floated on its own, making a lazy circle right in front the lioness’ face before becoming fixed once again. Having been distracted by the show Aikhen had failed to notice the dark man upon whose finger the tiny flame rested. “Nothing more than a candle, sweet maiden.” He cooed. “A will o’wisp for those seeking my camp.” Aikhen finally looked up at the full figure. He was tall, lanky, as if made from sticks given the barest padding. He wore all black in a flamboyant style that was subdued by its monotone color. Most intriguing was his face. Half was lost in shadow while the other half was covered by a thick white mask contorted into an expression of glee, or perhaps gleeful malice. The flame danced on his gloved finger before flickering out. He seemed to hang in midair, his feet divorced from the beach entirely.

The lioness growled, her divine regalia flaring to life as she summoned up her power. She lurched forward in the trap, sending a shockwave through the sand. Had the shadowed figure been standing upon it he surely would have been thrown to his feet, but perhaps anticipating this he had opted to float. At the sight of the fearsome beast his lanky arm gathered up a handful of dust and his hidden mouth casually blew it into her face. The lioness’ nose wrinkled, and then, without much divine grace she sneezed. Her power winked out as surely as the flame had. The force of the sneeze threw Aikhen to the sand, where much to his relief he did not sink into oblivion. He sat up and watched as their assailant leaned into the panting lioness and carefully stroked the side of her face. “You are very gravely injured.” He cooed, real concern in his voice.

“What other choice did I have?” She replied to him, golden eyes looking up to his shrouded face.

“You could have done as you were instructed, and stayed at your mother’s side. It is my duty, not yours, to do what I can for the poor wretches here. You’re going to miss it, if you’re not careful.”

“You know, as well as I, what a farce that is.” She almost spat at him. “I am beginning to think that he has gone mad. And I think you might agree, given that almost heretical form.”

The masked man laughed. “Perhaps. Perhaps I give him tribute for his exceedingly long vision? Imitation, as they say, is the most sincere form of flattery.” He kissed her nose. “Now. Why have you come to see me?”

The lioness looked towards Aikhen. “You would have to see it to believe it, ferryman.”

The ferryman turned towards Aikhen and gestured towards him. He rose off of the sand and was held so that the ferryman could approach him. He was turned about while those hidden eyes examined him. “Oh…” Aikhen could almost feel the incredible grin spreading over the ferryman’s features. “Oh ho ho!” He started to laugh. “What a find, my maiden! I could not have written it better myself! One last trick to play before the curtain is drawn closed, is that what you’re thinking?”

The lioness nodded. “Which is why I must return.”

The ferryman ahhed. “Must you now?” He set the very confused Aikhen down gently. “You really think that this…rough among diamonds is worth breaking our most sacred laws?”

“When have laws ever meant anything to you?”

The ferryman laughed once again before gesturing at the lioness and restoring her footing. “So true! And, because I can never pass up a cruel joke…” His mask seemed to jeer at Aikhen as he looked towards him. “I will oblige.” The mirror flat surface of the sea was broken as the prow of a small ship gently beached itself on the sand. Its sails hung limp over the broad deck. “I think that I can find some wind to carry us across this dreadful calm.” The ferryman said merrily as he hopped aboard the ship. “Well, come on then! What are you waiting for?”

Thunder broke. Or, at least it seemed like thunder. Ripples shot out across the dead sea and wind swirled down from the high cliffs to stir the beach. Both the lioness and the ferryman looked up to where the clouds were thrown into turmoil. A dark shape, the largest thing that Aikhen had seen since he entered the wilderness, broke past the cliffs and clove through the clouds. It reverberated with dark power, drawing all wind to in it a swirling vortex that seemed to swallow what meager light was available to it. Hundreds of smaller shadow figures swirling around the pulsing mass, cackling and shrieking with each pass. The entire procession was crowned by a burning star, a bright yellow light that cast no warmth. It stared across the sea, and by its power alone was the shadow fleet held together.

At the sight of the behemoth the lioness’ power flared once again, but she stopped as the ferryman held out his hand to her. “No.” He commanded softly. “They cannot see us, I have made sure of it…But your power might pierce the veils I have erected, my maiden.”

“What is it?” Aikhen asked, his gaze transfixed on that one point of light.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” The ferryman replied, his tone light. “Come then, Aikhen.” Did even he know the wretched one’s name? “We don’t have much time.’

The lioness brushed against Aikhen, urging him towards the boat. “What is it?” He repeated to her, looking over his shoulder as she led him away.

“The light or the shadow?” The lioness replied, hopping effortlessly up to ship’s deck.

“We will be cutting this very close, maiden!” The ferryman called as he pranced from bow to stern.

Aikhen hauled himself up a few moments after, and then he could finally reply. “The light…the light is what’s important.” He panted, somewhat overwhelmed by the intimidating sight.

“The light…” The lioness began as the ship lurched and set out to sea. The ferryman took the helm and with a light breath blew wind into the sails. They were off.

“…is Malekith’s progeny come to destroy us all.”

***

From his throne room atop the tallest tower of what had once been the shining city of Kithanan Alith Anar beheld the vast fleet assembled to carry his host across the sea. At long last, with a favorable wind at their backs, the shadow ark and the hastily assembled long ships would begin the invasion that had long been promised. The Everchosen smiled at the wide open blue expanse in front of him.

The wolf sat up, drawing his attention.

“Is something wrong, my friend?” Alith Anar asked, stroking the beast’s fur.

The wolf soon settled. “Something tickling my nose, nothing more.” He closed his eyes.

“Very well.” Alith Anar replied before he rose from his throne. The Everchosen strode across the room to the balcony that overlooked the remains of Kithanan. Tens of thousands of eyes turned upwards towards that tower, drawn by the Everchosen’s silent call. Alith Anar raised his left hand, the mark of Chaos upon it burning as brightly as ever. Cheers erupted not just the ruins of the shadowed city but from the countless ships that ringed it.

“Let Ulthuan burn!”

[Giladis]

This is great Vic

[Ramesesis]

A masterpiece, Vic! A masterpiece!

[Prince Eldarion]

Phenomenal work, you should think about publishing.

[DarkTyrany22]

Whoa...

[Elaithnir]

Woah indeed...I have some suspicions about 'Aikhen' and his mysterious companions...but this is great Vic!

[Uther Di Asturien]

Very, very nice I must say

[Lord Marixis]

Excellent work as usual, Victor.