Origins of the Never: A prequel to The Tales of the Neverwar series, with dragons, elves, and faeries. For Young Adults and Teens (4 page)

The Citadel—Months Later

“Can he not be stopped?” cried Lynnaria. “Surely there's something we can do, my love. I know he's been a brother to you for centuries, but what he's become...it’s frightening.”

Olumé sat in silence, pondering what his wife said before replying. “We cannot kill him, Lynnaria, for if we do, we set ourselves on the same path of darkness which he has. And if I were to strike the final blow, I would eventually become what he is now, only ten times worse. Don’t you see?”

He looked at his wife with tortured eyes, and she came to him and embraced him. “Then this is the end. All attempts to reason with him have failed. All our emissaries now serve his twisted purpose. We have lost.”

“No, not lost,” whispered Olumé, “though our victory will be hard won.” He looked into his wife’s confused eyes. “I have a plan, or at least the start of one. A plan that will see our way of life endure, long after Tenybris has left this world.”

“Left this world?” Lynnaria asked, shocked to discover her husband had foreseen this. “Why will he leave? Surely the Land gives even him what he needs.”

Olumé shook his head. “The Land has rejected him utterly, my dear.” He watched as confusion etched her features. “The only sustenance he survives on now is the energy he rips from the poor unfortunates he murders. Once his source of ‘food’ is gone, he will seek more, elsewhere.”

Lynnaria was horrified, and her face turned white with shock. She had loved and respected Tenybris for years, until he returned from Sanctuary over a century ago and became a recluse on his island. Both she and Olumé had visited, but over the years he grew hostile, and their visits became less frequent, until one day Tenybris denied them entry to his home. He stood in the doorway and spat venomous words at them both, warning them never to return. Olumé had been deeply hurt, but could see no other recourse but to give Tenybris what he wanted.

Then, the rumours began. Stories of whole village populations disappearing overnight. Of monsters striking unwary travellers and dragging them off, never to be seen again. Scouts were sent to investigate, never to return. A small force of Magisters, the magical law enforcers of the Citadel, were despatched, but after a month only one returned, barely alive. The survivor, Trellyne, told of being overcome by hundreds of creatures one night when they made camp. The things were impervious to magic, and he told how he barely escaped with two others, having watched their friends being butchered mercilessly, helpless to assist them.

That, however, wasn’t the most disturbing thing about his tale. On their flight back to the Citadel they were ambushed again, by the friends they had seen die. The undead creatures were in possession of all their magical abilities, and had killed one of them in the first attack. Trellyne and the other survivor were both hurt, but in a selfless act of bravery, his friend sacrificed himself to give Trellyne enough time to escape.

Now Tenybris had no use for stealth he began his conquest in earnest. Town after town fell to his army, which by this time numbered in the thousands. People fled to the Citadel, in the false hope of safe haven, but now Tenybris drew close.

“I have asked the Walkers for help,” Olumé said. “They will shelter as many of the People who can make it here before Tenybris reaches the Citadel. I will then destroy it. He cannot be allowed to capture Sanctuary, for if he does, the universe will cease to exist.”

“Then he will be trapped here?” Lynnaria asked, hopefully.

Olumé shook his head in sadness. “I’m sure he will, for a while at least, but there are other ways to travel between worlds. I used them to find Sanctuary, remember? Tenybris may take some time to work it out, but I have no doubt he will. His conquest will continue. Oh, it will be much slower than it would be if he took Sanctuary, but it will continue nonetheless.”

“Then all life is doomed.” Lynnaria slumped into her chair.

“I hope not,” Olumé said, enigmatically. He had a small smile on his face which made his wife curious.

“Ah, this plan of yours. Care to let me in on the secret?”

“It’s actually a few plans...it’s hard to explain, but if it works the way I hope, then...well, maybe our way of life might survive. Maybe.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” Lynnaria said, pensively.

“I’m not,” Olumé responded. “There are so many variables, so many things that can go wrong, but I think I’ve planned for the major upsets.”

“So what do we have to do?”

Olumé turned to her, steeling himself for the battle to come. “You need to leave. You need to lead the People on Sanctuary, my love.”

For a second Lynnaria didn’t understand the meaning behind the sentence. But slowly, she realised what her husband meant.

“You’re staying here?” Lynnaria screamed. “Why? We can escape. Like you said, we can come back here when Tenybris is gone. We can start over.”

Olumé shook his head again. “I need to do more than simply rebuild this world, my love. As long as Teralia exists, Tenybris will have a link to the magic it provides.”

Lynnaria’s face paled. “You’re going to destroy this world? No, you can’t do that. The magic will die, Olumé. What will become of the universe without magic?”

“I’m not planning on destroying anything.” Olumé smiled. “Simply hiding it.”

The revelation showed in the delight on Lynnaria’s face. “How do you plan on hiding the Lands, Olumé? Even you don't possess that amount of power.”

Olumé smiled his mischievous smile which could both amuse and annoy her. This was one of those times.

“You are right, of course, my dear,” he laughed. “I am nowhere near powerful enough, but the spell I have fashioned is.”

He didn’t make sense to Lynnaria. “I don't understand,” she said, “how can a spell be more powerful than its caster? That's impossible.”

“Not impossible if the spell is designed to be enacted by more than one magic user.”

Comprehension dawned on her face as she understood what Olumé meant. It had never been successfully attempted before, but this didn’t seem to perturb him. Attempts had been made on multiple occasions, but the results varied between simply not working, to causing the death of all involved.

Olumé beamed at her. “I'm not ready to give up yet, my love, but this spell is but one part of the many plans I intend to put in motion.”

“You are going to die, aren't you?”

The words caught Olumé off guard, and he was silent for a time. After a few moments, he took Lynnaria into his arms in a warm embrace. “We are all doomed to an eternity of slavery if Tenybris succeeds, my love, but if I die on my own terms, my soul will be safe. Safe and free to carry on the battle which I hope will eventually end his threat.”

“Won't that be rather hard to do when you're dead?” she asked, quietly. This was becoming too much, and her eyes were moist with early tears. It seemed like yesterday she'd met and fallen in love with this man in her arms. Now, she was going to lose him, and to make matters worse, she would be stranded on an alien world. She wouldn't be alone, of course. Already, hundreds of the People had passed through the portal to Sanctuary, and by the time Tenybris reached the Citadel, there would be thousands of refugees sheltered by the generosity of the Walkers.

She would be the only member of the Council there, however. The others had already fallen in battle against Tenybris’s forces. When she left, Olumé would be the last. With the portal destroyed, he would be trapped here, to await his eventual death at the hands of Tenybris, or one of his creatures. The pain she felt was unbearable. Her heart was breaking, but there was nothing she could do. She knew Olumé was right, and she saw the confidence he had in his plan. He would not lie to her. If he felt there was a chance it might succeed, she would have to support him.

She had one final parting gift for him. “Part of you won’t die, my love,” she said, and gently guided his hand downwards to touch her stomach.

Olumé’s eyes widened in wonder and shock. Births among his people were incredibly rare, partly because they were so long lived, almost immortal. Children were a blessing that occurred perhaps once every 500 years, and the fact it had happened to him, at this very moment of his imminent death, provoked tears of mixed feelings to flow down his face. He was going to be a father, but he would never see his child. It would be safe, however, and he knew now why his wife hadn’t demanded to stay by his side.

“I love you, Lynnaria,” he said between the tears, as he caressed her belly, “and I love this gift you’ve given me. I don’t know what to say.”

The feelings going through his head threatened to divert him from his path, to go with them to Sanctuary, but too much relied on his soul surviving. If Tenybris couldn’t be utterly defeated, then he would eventually find and capture Sanctuary, and it was the key to their victory. So, as he took Lynnaria by the hand and led her to the balcony, they stood looking out at the smoke on the horizon. War had come at last. It would take Tenybris less than a day to surround the Citadel. There was no way to withstand the combined might of him and the magic users he had turned to his side.

“You must go now, my love.” Olumé waved a hand. They were immediately transported to the portal chamber, a huge hall with the portal sat atop a pyramid at the centre. It was quite a small portal, for there had never been any need to transport large objects through it, but now the streams of people climbing the steps and passing through made him wish they had ten such gateways. Thousands of the People would be left behind to become Tenybris’s minions.

Lynnaria embraced her husband for the last time. Tears streamed down both faces. She reluctantly let go of his hand and joined the procession of refugees. She turned at the last moment, at the edge of the grey shimmer suspended magically in the air, giving a final wave and smile, before turning and passing through.

And so it begins,
thought Olumé.

The voice in his head was thick with sadness, but serene and peaceful. There was no bitterness in it.
‘This is the end of the beginning,’
said the Light.
‘When millennia have passed, and the beginning of the end comes to pass, then our chosen one will be born. Until then, Olumé, we must say goodbye. You must sunder your link with the Land, or your soul will be unable to carry out its part of your great plan.’

Olumé knew the Light was right. They had discussed this many times over the years. His link to the land was as precious to him as his love for his wife and unborn baby, but there was no choice to be made. He waved his hand again and was transported to Terranum, the highest mountain on the world of Teralia. Here he looked out over hundreds of miles in all directions. Here, the link to the Lands was its strongest. Olumé stood for a while, savouring the feeling of union he had with everything he saw. He was one with this world and he loved it dearly. With an act of will he drew his consciousness back inside himself, uttering the words of a spell he never dreamed he’d use. A feeling of emptiness filled his soul. He felt more alone than he could ever remember. His link was broken. All around him he sensed the anguish flowing out from this spot, but it was a shadow of the perception he would have had if he’d still been joined.

Another wave brought him back to the balcony, where he watched the steady advance of the fires bringing Tenybris back in triumph to the Citadel. Olumé was sad. If his plan worked, then all this would endure, but he would miss it. He would miss his wife and baby. He would be dead.