CHAPTER TWELVE
THE CALM
Mercius rode into the forest with slight unease. The change from daylight, as feeble as it was, was soothing: the dark stench and oppressive air of the wastelands transformed almost instantly into cool, fresh air. The overhang of green canopy shaded the forest until it was almost completely dark, but Mercius had no trouble seeing, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t due to his preternatural sight.
He rode deeper into the wood, letting Fury walk at a slow, casual pace, picking his way as he would. As he rode he began to feel a presence around him. He couldn’t define it as anything else; it was simply there, all around him.
Slowly, as he rode, he began to hear, very faintly as if very far away or very well concealed, rustling in the underbrush. He shot his head around at the sound, but could see no movement. Mercius continued, his hand twitching minutely, ready to reach for Illuricht and bare it in an instant.
He rode for several more minutes, hearing the faint rustling all around him now. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was certain that he was in the heart of the wood, or very quickly approaching it.
With a suddenness that was far beyond anything a normal human could have done, Mercius leapt from the saddle, spinning in the air so that he was facing the direction from which he had just come. Illuricht flashed into his hand like a black bolt of black lightning even as he landed, feet apart and staring at the thing that had approached with eerie silence from behind him.
“Your demon blade cannot harm me, mortal,” said a voice. It issued from a very tall, slender being that was otherwise nondescript in the darkness of the forest. “Put it away, and we shall speak. Keep it pointed at me, and you will be dead before you can scream.”
It went against every instinct Mercius had ingrained in himself over the years but, reluctantly, he sheathed Illuricht at his back. There was no threat in the thing’s voice, only surety, and it was enough to convince Mercius that if he did not comply, the promise would be carried out, and the Hammer and the Blade, waiting for him just outside this small forest, would suffer the same fate without mercy or quarter.
He could not see the thing’s face, but he felt as if it smiled slightly.
“I thank you, Mercius,” it said. Its voice was calm and somehow smooth, like running a hand over a well polished table; it was deep and rich. Mercius looked for and failed to find any hint of malice or evil in the voice. This was certainly no demon, but he was on his guard nonetheless.
“Who are you and how do you know my name?” he asked, his voice stern and as strong as he could make it. “Speak quickly. I do not doubt that you would kill me in a heartbeat, but I will take you with me if you do not answer.”
“You are rash and hasty, as are all of your kind. My name is not important right now. As to who I am, that question, I’m afraid, I cannot answer. Not here, not now. It is a dark time, and the darkness is ever closer to us. As far as how I know your name, she told me.”
Mercius was on the verge of asking who she was, but it came to him quickly and absolutely: Nephilia.
The strength of command that Mercius had poured into his tone was still evident, but was now touched with a sense of awe and wonder: “She has spoken to you? She comes to you as well?”
Again, Mercius could not see the smile, but he felt that it was there. Furthermore, there was a hint of knowing laughter in the voice: “Yes, we speak to each other. As far as her coming to me, I’m not sure. We share a common interest, and our discussions are always fruitful and always important.” There was a pause during which Mercius wanted again to ask who the thing was, but he held his tongue. It continued. “Will you walk with me, Mercius? There are many things to discuss before you attempt to raid Mor'denaa’s compound, and time is ever against us.”
“I will, but my troops are waiting at the border of this forest. I do not wish to leave them in suspense. I will summon them.”
“I do not believe that would be wise, Mercius. In time, they shall come, but not now. You must trust me: your friends will not be troubled by your absence.”
“Trust you?” Mercius asked heatedly. “You who will not show his face or tell his name? How can you ask me for trust?”
“Suffice it to say that asking was merely a polite formality. You will come with me, and that is all there is to it. I do not threaten you, Mercius, but I see far and know much. Your friends will think you have been gone but moments when you return to them. Again, you must trust me. If not because you feel you can, then because you have no other choice.”
Mercius gave up reluctantly, but still he felt no evil coming off of the thing, and felt somehow safe: he did trust the being before him, though he had no reason to, and every reason not to.
He nodded to the thing, and it walked past him, deeper into the forest. Mercius followed. As it passed, he caught a whiff of some pleasant aroma that was earth and rain and life all rolled into one.
Mercius followed the being deeper and deeper into the woods, still hearing the rustling in the bush all around him. He inquired about the sounds to his escort, who replied, “They watch and listen, but are friends.”
Before Mercius could ask further, the thing continued, “Here we are. All your questions shall be answered shortly.”
The pair entered a clearing that was lit within. Mercius saw no candles or torches burning, but the place was cast in a warm, subtle glow that seemed to emanate from the very trees themselves; from the earth. It was empty save for a single creature, standing directly in the center of the clearing. It was as tall as Mercius' escort, nearly a foot taller than Mercius himself, and clothed in darkness. As with the one that brought him here, there were no discernible features to the thing’s face. Indeed, there seemed to be a shadow that covered it, as if the lights had been snuffed where it stood.
His escort led him directly toward the shadowed thing, and bade him stop several yards shy. It approached alone, and the two seemed to have conversation, though Mercius, even with his demon-like hearing, could hear nothing of what was said.
After a short time, the escort stepped aside and seemed to melt rather than walk into the shadows of the trees surrounding the clearing. Then a voice, deep and grave and wise, came from the cowled being: “Come, Arkarum. I would speak with you while there is yet time.”
Mercius, with nothing else to do, and, he was surprised to discover, no desire to do otherwise, dismounted from Fury's back and walked confidently forward. There was no fear in him; something about this place made him feel safe and welcome.
As Mercius approached, the shroud that seemed to cover the thing before him melted slowly away. What was left was not anything that Mercius had expected: it was a thing clothed in light. At first glance, it could have passed for a very tall, handsome man. But, on further inspection, Mercius saw that it was anything but. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen with his waking eyes. Its features were human, but they were far more gracious and amazing than mere mortality could ever grant. The being had glorious, shining eyes of murky, swimming grey that seemed to have stars dancing in them with intensity. His hair was flowing and seemingly made of strands of windswept sunshine. His mouth was small and almost dainty, but seemed perfectly on the verge of a smile that would rend one’s heart in two with its divinity.
Mercius asked, somewhat stupidly due to his overwhelming shock, “How do you know me? What are you?”
In the same grave and infinitely wise voice that had bade him come forward; seeming to echo off of cliffs that weren’t there; soar above seas that Mercius had never seen; he said, “The Numerai see far, Arkarum.” It paused just long enough to take on a thoughtful look in his deep and wondrous eyes, then said, “And that, I believe, answers both of your questions.” Mercius was so in love with the sound of the being’s voice that he was overcome by stunned silence. He had thousands of questions to ask this Numerai, but could give voice to none.
The thing laug
hed, and Mercius found that the smile that broke that grave and beautiful face nearly did split his heart in two. He wanted to curl up and bask in its glory. He knew not what this thing was, but it had him totally in its thrall, and there was nothing he could do about it, even if he wanted to.
The thing said, after a period of silence that was, to Mercius, both extremely comforting and quite awkward, “I shall answer your questions as best I can, Mercius. We have but little time, and all of it is sacred. My name is Volgestadt, and I am the leader of the Numerai that dwell in this forest. It is not a very large place, as you may have guessed, but it has been here always, and will stand as long as there is even one of us left to inhabit it. As to what we are, that is something that I’m afraid will confuse you more than help. We are the ones that were, have ever been, and will always be. We are the haters of evil and the lovers of life. We are the enemies of the darkness, no matter what mask it wears. We are the servants of none, and the protectors of all.”
Volgestadt paused and sighed, then continued: “You see? What we are and who I am can mean nothing to you; your vision is constricted so terribly that I have no hope of explaining this to you. It is not your fault, of course. It is your nature. One who is mortal can never understand one who is not. Even the winds and the seas of this world are confused by us, for we are the everlasting, and they are but fleeting occupants of a mortal planet.”
Mercius looked at Volgestadt in confusion, but there was a grain of understanding buried deep in his mind: the Numerai were the always and forever. Things that he could scarce believe, let alone fathom. It fair made his head spin thinking about it.
“Your next question, I presume,” Volgestadt continued, obviously done trying to explain what the Numerai truly are, “is what my friend meant when he said that he speaks to Nephilia.” Mercius looked hard at Volgestadt, trying to uncover any deceit or trickery that might be hidden there, but all he saw was a perfect visage of love and serenity and peace. “We know what task she has put to you, and how she has helped, although it may not seem like much help right now. The Numerai speak with ones such as her, and all others like her. We know, and watch, and help in whatever ways we are allowed.”
“Allowed?” Mercius asked. “Surely immortals such as you have no superiors; no rules handed down to them.”
Volgestadt sighed again; a sound that was much like wind through the very forest they stood in; and shook his head. “Mercius, you are so young, and so limited in your understanding of things. There are rules that govern everything and everyone. From the seas to the earth to the Gods; even the demons you seek to destroy are merely players on a board. A board with rules and boundaries that cannot be ignored.” A light flashed in Volgestadt’s eyes, and his face broke into a smile that was small, but nevertheless sent a warmth flooding through Mercius' blood. “That, in fact, is a very good way to look at it: a game board. There are players on the board, and each has his own goal. The other constantly strives to destroy his opponent, but all must follow the rules. There is no such thing as cheating in this game. Cheating is not only forbidden, it is utterly impossible.”
“And what is the contest?” Mercius asked, already knowing the answer: he had known it in his heart and soul his entire life.
“Control, of course,” Volgestadt said with a knowing smile, seeming to read Mercius' thoughts. “The winner of this struggle controls all. But, even if that were to happen, the rules would still be held to without fail. It is a war that has been waging since the beginning of this world; indeed, since the beginning of time itself, when there was nothing but the Numerai and the Gods.”
“I know I cannot truly understand the Numerai, Volgestadt, but perhaps you could answer this: did the Gods create you, or did you create them?”
Volgestadt smiled that small, knowing, warming smile again and said, “The Numerai were not created. They were not, then they were. When time began its neverending progress, the Numerai simply were. We have thought for eternities about this, and have decided that whatever it was that put time on its course, had certain…side effects. By the sheer force of becoming, time itself created the Gods, and the Numerai. And, incidentally, the Arka, but we shall discuss that later.
“Now, you must understand that we are not Gods. No, we are just us. We thrive and see and help when we are allowed. And, to answer your next question before you need to waste your time asking it, no, the Gods do not dictate when we are allowed to intervene in the wars of the universe. The rules are in place, and have always been, and we follow them. It is as simple and as complicated as that.”
“And this place? What is this place that stands so peacefully while the rest of the world is torn and soiled?” Mercius asked.
“This forest is our home. We call it the Rau'halla, though it has countless other names as well. The wood travels with us where we go, and we with it. There are many others like it, with other Numerai inhabiting them, but this one is ours, just as we belong to it. When the lines of time and space take us elsewhere, the Rau'halla is always with us, though not always in this form. It is our home, and we are tied to it through all the worlds and all the times and all the universes. Again, I do not expect you to truly understand, but that is not important now. What is important is your current task. The villagers you picked up will certainly help, and your friends are true, from what I can see.”
Volgestadt began to walk as he spoke, and Mercius fell in by his side, leaving Fury behind in the glade, so that they were walking through the clearing together, and then into the trees of the Rau'halla, side by side.
Mercius spoke to Volgestadt of their journey, and his fears, though he was absolutely sure that the Numerai already knew all of what he had to tell. After a short time, however, Mercius lost interest his soliloquy, falling into the beauty of the woods, and went slowly but steadily quiet. Volgestadt was content simply to walk through the forest in silence, and Mercius lost himself in its green aliveness. He had never been anywhere that was entirely devoid of evil’s foot-prints and talon-marks, and he found this place utterly mesmerizing in its purity. The peace and calm of the forest seemed to seep into his very bones; his very soul; and he became convinced that if he was given the choice to forsake his sworn task to annihilate the Hell-spawn of this planet, and instead just live and walk in the Rau'halla, he would thrive comfortably and peacefully without regret or remorse. But, likewise, he knew that he would be given no such option. His was a task that he would either fulfill or die trying. He felt, under the calm serenity of the trees and grass and earth, a subtle but undeniable urging toward his goal, as if the very forest itself was telling him to not tarry here, to carry on and go forth with his mission.
With a suddenness that, despite his inner calm, made him reach for the sword strapped to his back, Volgestadt put a hand on his arm and stopped him.
“We must part,” the Numerai said when Mercius had recovered from his shock. When he saw the look of dismay on Mercius' face, he chuckled warmly. “Fear not, young Arkarum. We will meet later today. But here is the edge of the Wood, and you must bid your friends and followers to enter and be fed and rested.”
“Arkarum,” Mercius said under his breath. “What is it, Volgestadt? What is the Arka?”
“Now is not the time, Mercius, for Griffin must hear all that I wish to say on the topic of the Arka, and of Nephilia. Fear not. We shall speak in great detail when there is time, later. For now, go to your friends. When you have gathered them, enter the forest and come to me. You will not have any trouble finding me. In fact, just keep walking, and you will come to me.” With another warming smile, Volgestadt turned and left Mercius looking wistfully after him. Even in the stillness of the Rau'halla, Volgestadt’s parting left Mercius with a feeling of discomfort, like having a blanket stolen from you as you sleep on a cold night.
Mercius turned and walked the way the pair had been heading. After hardly two dozen strides, the trees thinned a
nd then were gone. Mercius entered into the dimness of daylight, and the blackness of the wastelands. Even though the forest was dark, and no light came under its canopy from the sun, Mercius felt like he was walking into blindness; a blindness that carried with it the stink of decay and hate, and the feel of slimy, maggot-covered rot.
There stood his marshals, mounted on their steeds--some of which were mere ponies. They peered into the dim forest about ten yards to his left, as if looking for something. When he hailed them, all of them started fiercely and spun toward him, hands on weapons.
“Mercius, how…” Darius started to say, then looked back in the direction of the group’s previous scrutiny and shook his head in bewilderment.
“How long have you been there, waiting for me?” Mercius asked. “It seems as if I have been walking for hours.”
“Waiting?” Sophia said. “Who’s waiting? You just left us here and we were deciding whether or not to come after you. What do you mean, waiting?”
Mercius remembered the assurance that his Numerai escort had offered him, and he broke out into a laugh.
“I don’t appreciate being laughed at, boy!” Sophia said, but there was more confusion in her tone than sternness.
“Come!” Mercius said. “We go to dine with the Numerai! I shall tell you of them along the way.”
Their confusion remained, and they all looked at him as if suspecting he had hit his head and wasn't thinking properly.
As he and his marshals led the Hammer and the Blade through the dim forest, Mercius, true to his word, told them all that he had learned of the Numerai, as well as his conversation with Volgestadt. They were skeptical, which Mercius could understand, for in their eyes he had been gone no more than five minutes, but claimed to have haad an hours-long conversation with a mystical wood-dwelling man-type being. But they had little choice but to believe him. Mercius had never lied to them before, and they could not fathom his beginning to now; not to mention the strange disappearance of Mercius' horse.
They walked for several moments, the forest still and peacefully silent around them, and then Mercius was…guided to the clearing he had visited before. He could think of no other word to describe it: he was walking aimlessly, with no real concept or idea of where to go, then suddenly his feet changed direction for him, and after hardly any time at all, the Hammer and the Blade entered the overhung space where Mercius had first met Volgestadt.
There was an extremely long rich wood table set up in the center of the clearing complete with long benches and more food than any of the company had ever seen in their lives. It was piled on wooden platters and bowls. There were clay cups filled to the brim. There were flagons and tankards, and wooden plates set for hundreds. The aromas that drifted to the humans were immense in their richness and deliciousness. As a whole, they began to salivate, and nearly all of them had goofy, enthusiastic grins on their faces.
Not knowing where the order came from, but nonetheless knowing that it was the right thing to do, Mercius said, loud enough for all to hear, though he did not have to shout, “Line your gear up along the outside of the clearing. Horses and ponies can be unsaddled and rubbed down, but there is no need to tether them. When that is done, and only when, we may sit as one. The chair at the head of the table, the big one, no one sits in, for I believe that our host will be joining us.” Mercius pointed to the chair at the far end of the massive table. It was so far away that it should have been impossible to see in the dimness, but all could make it out clearly, as if it shone with its own inner luminance. It was modest, made entirely of rich, dark-red wood, but it was carved every inch with elaborate swirls of leaves and flowers and animals and suns and stars. It was tall, but not overbearing. The high back stretched fully six feet off the ground, but Mercius allowed that the individual sitting in it needed it to be such a height.
The troops worked briskly and efficiently, obviously excited about the prospect of a filling meal, and their work was done in no time.
Mercius stood with his marshals toward the head of the table, he and Griffin standing behind the place setting on either side of the head chair. When he looked down the incredibly long line of the table, he saw that all were mimicking him. He gave a subtle nod, and sat. As one, the rest followed suit. As soon as he settled himself on the gleaming wood of the bench, it seemed as if all of his troubles and worries melted away. As if he had been holding without knowing it a great weight in his legs and his arms and his heart, and was finally able to set it down. He thought, though he could not be sure, that he heard a collective sigh from his compatriots, as if they, too, each and every one, had the same relieving feeling as he.
As the feeling etched its way into his bones, Mercius looked down the table, and saw everyone sitting, staring at the food before them. Even Griffin across from him sat, gazing keenly into Mercius' face. Understanding dawned in him, and he slowly reached out to the closest morsel-bearing platter, snatched up a piece of meat, and took a bite. Even as he was enjoying the succulent juiciness of the food, he heard and saw all of the rest of his company dig in hungrily. As if he had broken some sort of spell, the entire table erupted in the bustle of a feast. There was laughter and talk and very many smiling, salivating nods to neighbors. Mercius was reserved, but ate and drank all the same. The food was delicious, as well as the drink--some sort of fruit juice he had never before tasted--but he mostly kept an eye on his surroundings, watching the troops as well as watching the forest for any sign of their hosts. There were none until the meal had been finished several hours later.
During the feast, the marshals spoke hardly at all, each lost in their own thoughts and pondering their own questions. Mercius sensed from them that they had much to ask him concerning the Numerai. But, and he felt sure of this, they knew that he had told them all he could, and that their questions would be wasted until their hosts finally arrived.
When the majority of the food had been eaten and most of the troops were sipping quietly at their cups or holding happily their bellies, Volgestadt came into the clearing.
He approached the head of the table without fanfare and placed his hand on the large chair that sat there.
Griffin, in a voice loud enough to carry to the edge of the glade, said, “Rise, Hammer! Rise, Blade!” With the smooth unity that seems to come naturally to soldiers who march together, the company rose as one and stood behind the benches, facing the table before them.
“We thank you for this feast, good sir, and admittance into your home,” Griffin said, giving a very deep bow to Volgestadt, whose eyes were slightly widened and whose lips turned up at the corners. Again, as one and with fluid unity, the others in the company followed suit, bowing at the waist and staying there, heads lowered. The bows of the marshals and Mercius himself were no less gracious or graceful.
Volgestadt laughed, and Mercius again felt as if his heart would tear asunder from the sheer joy that it evoked. “Rise! Rise!” he said, the mirth and gratitude clear in his stunning voice. “You are welcome to all that we have to offer while you rest here in the Rau'halla, and rest you shall. Now you must go to that rest, while I speak with your leaders here.” He motioned to Mercius and his marshals. “You will be led to beds and anything else you might require.” As he said this, about thirty more Numerai entered the clearing from all sides. They were just as tall and lovely as Volgestadt, but there was a sense of regalness that only he possessed.
Griffin tensed slightly, not trusting his men to be led into the darkness, perhaps never to return. Mercius looked at him and shook his head slightly; All is well. Do not fear. Volgestadt sensed the tension in the air and said, “Rest easy, young Arkarum. They will be safe.” Griffin turned toward him, and immediately the tension drained out of his arms and neck, as if the eyes of the Numerai had rubbed a soothing balm over his mind.
As the Hammer and the Blade were led away, Volgestadt bade them regain their seats. Th
ey did, and as Volgestadt sat in his large, beautiful chair, he seemed to join his luminescence to that of the chair, creating an aura of warm gold-green light that hung about him. It melded so fluidly with the unnatural and comforting light of the clearing that he seemed to be one with the trees and grass and earth.
“There is no need for introductions, as I know all of you already, and much of your stories, and I know that Mercius has named me already to you. That being said, I’m afraid that our business is neither happy nor light. We must discuss your journey, and what it will mean, then the Arkarum and I will talk alone, for there is much that they wish to hear from me…and others.” The pause was brief, but Mercius and Griffin both caught it and were curious. The look in Volgestadt’s eyes, however, made them hold their tongues and their questions.
Volgestadt continued: “I assume that Mercius has already told you of the Numerai, as much as he understands, and that will have to suffice, because that is not our purpose. Tell me, Griffin, what plan have you for defeating Mor'denaa and her hordes?”
Griffin furrowed his brow in concentration and deep thought. He said at last, his tone heavy,: “I fear that it will be nearly impossible. The heinous bitch has a very large compound, and it is nearly filled to overflowing with demons that will sacrifice themselves at her slightest whim. My only hope is that we may be able to survey the place for several days without making ourselves known, so that we might be able to devise a better strategy than just charging in and killing as many as we can before they kill us.”
Volgestadt was silent for several moments; indeed, there was a deep silence in the clearing of the Rau'halla that was simultaneously uncanny and comforting. When he spoke there was no smile on his face, but Mercius thought that he detected the warm mirth in the voice: “Be not of heavy heart, Arkarum, for I have seen the compound. Indeed, I have been inside it, but that is not a story for tonight. Also, the Numerai see far, and I know the weaknesses of the demons. Listen, and if you follow what I tell you, victory will be within your grasp.”
Volgestadt spoke for a long while. He laid out a plan that Mercius and Griffin later agreed, with input from the marshals, was the best that could be devised. It was not perfect, of course, for no plan of battle can be, especially against such enemies as theirs, but as the Numerai spoke, they felt a sense of rightness wash slowly over them.
When at last he went silent, the mortals looked at each other, but there was nothing any of them could think to say. Volgestadt’s voice had commanded them into a sort of hypnotized trance that let them see every aspect of the battle that lay before them as if it were happening there and then, inside the clearing of the Rau'halla.
Keira was the first to speak, and quite some time had passed in silence. “If there is nothing else, sir, I would ask to retire. The journey has been hard on all of us, and I wish for a good night’s sleep, if not more!” Volgestadt nodded graciously to her and said:
“Of course, lady. You can all now go to your rest, and be at ease. I believe that you can stay here for one week of your human days, but no longer. Time is against us now. The Arkarum will stay.” With that, another of Volgestadt’s kind, this one a female of such grace and beauty that all were struck dumb with their mouths agape, came from the trees at the edge of the massive clearing. She silently nodded to the marshals who stood staring at her, and bade them follow her with a fluid sweep of one long, deliciously pale hand. Mercius watched Keira walk away, shamelessly admiring the swing of her hips and the lines of her legs.
When they had gone, Griffin and Mercius sat again. Mercius' mind, though at ease in this place of peace, was aswarm with questions, although they flitted through his mind like fairies through moonlight, and he couldn’t pin any one down long enough to give it voice.
Griffin broke the silence, and stilled Mercius' racing thoughts: “Volgestadt, now can you tell us of the Arka? What is it? Where did it come from? Is it good or evil? These things, and I believe I speak for both of us, are troubling and terrifying.”
Volgestadt looked at each of the two humans in turn, seeming to dissect them with his grey, starry eyes; he knew their souls in that glance. “I told you before that when time began, through its force there were side effects. Do you remember?” Mercius nodded his head, and Griffin, too, gave a slight nod, for Mercius had told him all of the conversation he had earlier had with the Numerai. “One of those side effects was the Arka. It manifested itself throughout the universe at the beginning of time, and has been there ever since. As far as what it is, I can only say that it is everything and nothing at once. It is the air and the trees and the seas. It is fire and earth and life. Likewise, it encompasses and is encompassed by death and hate, as well as love and joy. It is the force of the universe. Some, throughout time, though not very many, have been able to harness this force and make it do their bidding. There are rules governing what the Arka can and cannot do, but it is neither good nor evil, as you put it. It simply is, and those who can wield it have the power to make it one or the other. It is nothing that you must fear in yourselves, but you must be careful with it, for its force is strong beyond belief, and it has the power to bend your will if you are weak. The Arka is bestowed on those who it chooses, somehow, and not on those who choose it. It doles out equal shares of power to both sides of the struggle, and that cannot be changed. Mercius, in case you haven't already guessed, Asgoroth himself wields it, which, I believe, is what gave rise to your thought that the demon blood in your veins is how you obtained it. This is not the case at all. You were chosen by the Arka, both of you, and you must wield it as you will, just as he, and Mor'denaa as well, will do.”
Volgestadt paused for several moments, while Mercius and Griffin pondered all that he had told them. He had not answered their questions as much as they had hoped, but they both knew that he had told them all that he could, and were content. The questions that were answered were enough.
When Volgestadt spoke again, Mercius again was lost in his misty grey eyes, like a man staring at a winter sky, bathing in its beauty and sparkling majesty. “The two of you have gained a modicum of control over the Arka, which is good. You will need more practice, however, and some instruction. Mor'denaa and Asgoroth have wielded this power for thousands of years, and they are extremely efficient at it. I fear that there is simply not enough time for you to gain full power with it, but we must do our best in the time that we have. I, however, am not the one who can teach you these things.” Volgestadt rose and the two men followed suit. Volgestadt gestured to the trees behind him.
There seemed to be a music coming from where he pointed, and it filled the humans’ hearts with love and sadness and joy. It was so glorious that Mercius found himself weeping at the sound, and confirmed with a quick glance that Griffin, too, had tears stealing down his cheeks. From the darkness of the trees at the edge of the clearing before them, there came a light. It was subtle at first, but warm, and the music seemed to be emanating from the light, pulsing with it, dancing with it. The trees themselves were not immune to the rapture of the song, for their boughs creakily swayed toward the light, seeming to bow to it while striving to bask in it.
The warm white light brightened and pulsed stronger as the trio stared at it, the humans with their mouths agape and the Numerai with a smile of pure serenity painted on his already blissful face. From the light, a woman came. She was hard to see at first, melded as she was with the golden brightness behind her, but her shape became clear as she strode through the trees, then out into the clearing. Though Mercius could not make out the features of her face, he had no doubt as to who this lovely creature was. How she came to be in this place, however, was another question entirely. The woman was shorter than Mercius, coming up to his chin, he judged, but she carried herself with a grace and strength that no human could ever match. As she stepped slowly from the light’s brilliance, her features came into perception. Her face was a picture of beauty and delicac
y, with high cheekbones and supple, strong lips. Her jaw and brow were almost too feminine; no woman Mercius had ever seen had looked as much like a woman as she. Her eyes were a deep mix of gold and green and purple, from which glory and strength shone deep into Mercius' soul. There was life and expression in these eyes, as well as compassion. The color of her hair was impossible to describe, for when she left the brilliant white light behind her, some seemed to follow her, wrapping itself into her locks. They were nearly too bright to look at, clothed and wreathed as they were in warm white light.
When she reached the trio, she paused in front of Volgestadt, who stood slightly forward of Mercius and Griffin, and clasped his hands in hers. They whispered something to each other that neither man could hear, then approached the humans.
Instantly, and without hesitation, Griffin and Mercius dropped to their knees before her. They bowed their heads in unison. It took admirable strength to pull their eyes from her beautiful face, but they managed it, barely. Again, in unison, they said, “Hail, Nephilia. I am at your service now and forever.” To a spectator watching this scene, it would have looked like this was a long practiced speech, choreographed and planned, but it was not. Simply put, the two of them felt at that moment that it was the right thing to say and do.
Nephilia placed a hand atop each of their heads. With that touch came an enormous amount of strength and inspiration. They felt as if they could leap mountains and battle the King of Hell himself right then. And when she spoke, the feeling of indomitable strength multiplied threefold:
“Your welcome is too kind,” she said. “Rise, Arkarum, and look me in the face.” They did as they were told, and stared deeply into her beautiful face. It seemed that they would feel taller and stronger than she, looking down on her as her height demanded, but the opposite was true: she carried with her and in the depth of her eyes a strength that dominated them easily.
Mercius was filled with wonder and awe, to say the least. She was here. She was actually here! And in the flesh! He wondered how, and she must have gleaned the question either from his face or his thoughts, and said, in tones musical and divine:
“I am here in the flesh because it is allowed, on occasion, when the need is great. I am not nearly as strong in your world as I am in my own realm, but that need not trouble you. We are among friends here. I came to you because you have need of me, but this is not allowed often. Indeed, only twice before in my long existence has such interference been permitted, and that was long before this planet was even born; when the struggle between the darkness and the light was only just beginning. And, I’m afraid, I cannot tarry long. We have much that must be accomplished, and time is against us. Sit, and we will begin.”
Mercius and Griffin sat as they were told, but what they were about to ‘begin,’ neither of them truly knew.
After long hours in the clearing, Mercius lay in the pre-dawn darkness, completely relaxed for the first time in longer than he could remember, contemplating what had transpired that day. He found that he was still shocked and amazed that the beginning of the day had found them traveling in stale dimness that smelt so fiercely of decay and hate, that it was nearly unbearable, yet they had ended it in this place that smelled of good earth and trees and love. He lay on the travel-stained bedroll that usually rode behind his saddle, with his fingers laced behind his head, staring up at the canopy of leaves above, with a slight, distracted smile on his face. His thoughts should have been swarming and fighting for placement, after the arduous training he had just undergone, but they were still and calm. Even his heart, which had been beating intensely during the training session that he and Griffin had shared, was now rhythmic and naturally slow.
Nephilia had honed the two mortal’s skills with relentless fervor, allowing them no time to rest at all. It had literally been an hours-long training ordeal during which both men were pushed to their limits of both physical stamina and mental exhaustion. There was now a deep but comfortable soreness in his mind and body, as if he had run for days, all the while pushing his mind to the limits.
Now, in the darkness, he was alone. For whatever reason, the Numerai believed that he and Griffin should sleep apart from the rest of the Hammer and the Blade, as well as from each other. They perhaps wanted them to be rested with no distractions intruding into their thoughts or dreams.
In the darkness, Mercius was awake. He knew that sleep would come for him soon, but he was in no hurry, being warm and satisfied with his progress. Also, he was still infected by Nephilia’s presence, and all that it entailed. Having her near was like a soothing balm to the soul. He still felt as if she were standing next to him, as she had all night, casting her invisible glow all about him.
Interrupting his thoughts, there was a rustling in the underbrush near him. He was not startled, nor even put on his guard: this place was as safe as any he had ever been in, and his nerves were at rest for the time being.
He sat up, nevertheless, and looked in the direction of the noise. The figure that approached him was obviously female, and not tall enough to be Numerai. As she approached slowly but steadily, he realized it was Keira. There was nearly no light by which he was able to ascertain this, but he felt her presence invading his, could smell the sweetness of her skin, and knew without a doubt that it was her. Even above the lovely pervading scents of the Rau'halla, he could smell the clean essence of her; her hair and skin.
He smiled at her, knowing that she would not be able to see it. He was about to say something, but before he even had a chance to open his mouth, she was kneeling beside him and cupping his face in her soft hands. He involuntarily hissed an intake of breath, so startled he was by her gesture. They stared at each other silently for what seemed like an eternity, the dim starlight that broke through the canopy overhead reflecting in their eyes. Then, without warning, Keira pulled Mercius' face towards hers and pressed her lips to his.
A tingle of amazed excitement and shock ran from the top of his head, down his spine, to the tips of his toes, leaving its surge in his groin. With fervor and relish, he returned her affections. Mercius guided her softly to his bedroll and lay above her. His heart paused for a moment, fearing that she would push him away, but the soft moans of pleasure that came into his mouth from hers assured him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. As the two fervently removed their clothes in a flurry of necessity, their mouths left one another's only briefly. When finally they were naked, Mercius eased himself into her warm center. The gasp that burst from her lips Mercius would remember for the rest of his days. He pushed himself into her with passion-fraught abandon, and her whispers and moans were like music to his feverishly beating heart. Her nails raked the flesh of his back as he bit her neck and she chewed on his ear.
Mercius had known women in his time, but never a passion like this. Never such an uncaring abandon and such desire. He needed to be inside of her; inside of her body and her heart and her soul. She needed to feel him. Needed to breathe and taste and live him. They were one, and could never be anything else. In that moment, Mercius knew that no amount of pain or agony or torture could ever come close to taking this moment from him; he would live in her forever.
Their passions culminated, what seemed like hours of intensity later, and both moaned and screamed and clung to each other with desperate need.
The two lay panting together, their limbs entwined with one another’s. When their breathing and heart rates had settled, Keira said, her voice filled with the throaty feel that only a woman who was just sexually satisfied has, “Mercius, I’m sorry. That was very forward of me. It must be this place. It seems to have affected me strangely. I normally wouldn’t have even dreamed of doing that.” Then, after a short pause and with a girlish giggle, “Well, maybe dreamed of it, but never thought of actually doing it!”
Mercius pressed his lips firmly against hers, kissed her eyelids with a tenderness that he had never s
hown to another. It made her toes tingle, and started a heat going in her that they had just sated.
Mercius said, “Never apologize. Not to me, and definitely not about that. I have wanted this since I saw you for the first time, and dreamed of it almost constantly.”
They were silent and comfortable for a long while, then Keira asked about what had happened with Volgestadt earlier that night. Mercius told her all that had transpired, and she listened with intense curiosity, only commenting that she wished she had been able to see Nephilia, and feel what Mercius felt.
Then, when conversation was done, she laid her head on his chest and, listening to the soothing rhythm of his heart, and feeling the gentle caress of his fingers on her back, she fell into a deep and comfortable sleep.
Mercius heard her breathing deepen and become steady. Before dropping into sleep himself, he kissed gently the top of her head and whispered, “Good night, my love.”