Chapter 18:: Heaven and Hell

"Maybe this world is another planet's Hell"

- Aldous Huxley

Silver-grey, the distant moonlight filtered into the cell, casting long and heavy shadows of gloom as Ascronos' footsteps echoed in the silence. A single beam wove its way through the tiny opening in the wall, seeming to choke upon the dank cold air of the cell, shrink and darken as if wondering why it was fated to illuminate that dark corner of the world. Ascronos bathed his face in the beams, the great pools of his eyes seeming to swallow the feeble light in still and silent darkness. The runic symbol upon his forehead glimmered silver, the six points of the star glinting with unknown power.

"Nasma?", although his lips were dry, Ascronos spoke the name of his familiar, his Tanhai, with reverence.

Within the darkness of the cell, a butterfly fluttered into existence. Its wings were black but adorned with intricate patterns. A language worked in fractals of blue and grey upon her, spoke of the magics of which she was born. The closer you looked at the shapes upon her wings, the more meaning you found in them. Worlds within worlds too small to see, one within another.

"Is it time?", she asked, in answer to his beckoning.

"It is. Go with my blessings. May the winds be kind to you and speed you in your task."

Through the tiny opening in his cell, meant to crush the hopes of those within while keeping them alive, flew Ascronos' only hope for retribution. Vengeance would come swiftly and wash the walls of Din-A-Zar with the blood of the faithless.

.......................


As Nasma fluttered towards the village of the mages, Ishtahar, with his message to his old ally Trismegistus, Ascronos realized that he loved her. His only companion through all his life, his faithful Tanhai. He loved her in a very real sense as he had loved no other. No other since her, the one woman he had dared to love, back in his days of wandering in the courts of distant Zarabusa when he was still young and foolish. She had been beautiful, dark skin and brown eyes, a crooked smile that he could never forget. But he came to realize very soon that love is only weakness and that it opens the doors to betrayal, and games of power that seek to control and trap. He was not for traps. Ascronos Hell had long since transcended the foolish snares and traps of kings, courtiers and those whose beauty was mere treachery. Painted weapons to fool the unwary. And yet it tortured him that nothing in his life, no books, no magics, no knots of golden-yellow leaves that promised eternity had ever seemed as real as her. Time - he sought to defeat it, yet never completely understood it. Never understood how one moment of his life could seem to last longer than years of solitude and study. He remembered that night as clearly as if it were yesterday. The culmination of his passions, as a fierce storm beat upon the shuddering doors of the palace of Acousticon-

As striated clouds tore across the sky of Acousticon that night and murmuring raindrops flickered across the wet sheet of glass that formed the window pane, she was warm in his arms. A candle burnt within, and danced intoxicatingly with the transient drops that dripped down the glass. The curtain of her hair closed gently around his face, as he lost himself in the scent of her being. The yellow light was mellow upon her skin, soft, alive. They moved with the candle flame, flickered as their flames danced together. Water, fire and sin. They danced. She whispered something that hung in the air like motes of silver dust in a sunbeam. Still, but shining. Her voice faded with the storm outside and then she lay beside him, warm and spent. Her breath fell gently on his neck and darkness closed in.

Gone, all gone in a moment. Betrayed, his hopes were dashed and his soul darkened forever, one night soon after. Blood was spilled upon the inlaid floors of the court of Acousticon, cries broke the stillness of the night and swords were raised in anger. He had left her with tears running silently down her cheeks, a grim and resolute expression upon that unforgettable face. As he left, he had thrust a token into her hands. A tiny nosepin of muted gold which he had found as a child and kept in the foolish hope of presenting it to his beloved. It was a trifle, but it had meant all the world to him. He knew not why he gave it to her, he would never see her again. It was the last time he ever expressed a feeling as weak as love.

And now his Tanhai, the only one he could trust completely since that day, fluttered out of his sight on a journey to the last stronghold of magic, the distant village of Ishtahar.