Mack crept slowly
through the doorway, squeezing between the unfinished stone surface
of the door and the doorframe and entering the great hall. And that
it was a great hall was unmistakable – soaring columns at regular
intervals along either wall led off into the distance, carved with
exquisite detail in direct contrast to the unfinished rock wall that
gave entry to this room. Though he could not see the ceiling in the
murky, flickering light thrown off by the line of braziers down the
sides of the room, the echoes of his footsteps as he crossed the
polished marble floor told him that it certainly lay far above him.
He looked about warily
as he moved, expecting an attack at any moment, but saw nothing save
a free-standing mirror in the center of the great hall. It glowed
with a green light, casting a sickly pall that seemed to negate the
effects of the flames – cold where the firelight was warm, static
where the firelight flickered, chilling where the firelight was
comforting. Mack saw himself in the mirror as he approached, his
steps showing more confidence than he felt. The light gave his jovial
features a grim cast, his bright red beard looking almost black
underneath an unearthly pale face.
“So you have finally
come.”
The voice seemed to
come from everywhere, assaulting Mack at his very core as it battered
his ears. He looked quickly about, but could see no source for the
sound in the room. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he
turned back towards the mirror. His reflection seemed darker somehow,
as though something blocked the light approaching him. Mack squinted,
and was able to discern a ghostly shape in the shadow. As he watched,
the shadow in the mirror solidified. Darkness gave way to light as
features emerged – a head took shape, a hawkish nose growing out of
its center, and a dark body became ornate robes with glowing
embroidery.
Before long Mack was
face-to-face with a figure that was not there, seeing only a
reflection in the free-standing mirror that should not be. A tall,
pale man looked back at him. His robes rippled in black and green,
with embroidery along the collars that glowed with the same unearthly
green light as emanated from the mirror. Dark eyes looked out over a
long nose, but no hair framed the eyelids, brow, or head. Most
disturbing was the complete absence of a mouth – between the hooked
nose and the strong chin lay flesh without blemish – a solid sheet
of white that jarred Mack's sense of reality.
“I have watched your
progress through my domain.” The voice continued to beat at Mack,
gravelly and rasping. “You are the first person to reach my chamber
in twenty years.”
Mack peered around him,
looking for both the origin of the voice with no source and the body
casting the impossible reflection, but saw only the sickly light of
the mirror fighting back the firelight from the surrounding hall. He
turned back to the mirror. “Who are you?”
The voice chuckled.
“Seems as though I should be asking you that question. You are the
invader here, after all.” The reflection heaved a sigh, then the
voice continued. “When this land was young, and your people were
emerging from their caves across the oceans, I was worshiped as a
god. When you had taken your first stumbling steps, I had been here
for a thousand years. Ten thousand.”
Mack shook himself free
of the aural assault. “You're the Destroyer.”
The figure nodded,
though it had not been a question. “Where there is good in this
land, I bring evil. Where there is light, I make darkness. Where
there is peace, I bring war.”
Mack pulled a stone
from the pouch on his belt, sliding it into his sling. The weight
felt odd, heavier than a stone should be at that size, but he only
noticed this in passing. “Not anymore. Show yourself, Destroyer.”
The mouthless figure
looked at him intently. In his mind's eye, Mack saw an evil grin but
the smooth patch of skin on the creature's face remained unchained.
“But I already have.”
Mack whirled about,
looking for the source of the reflection, but an empty hall met his
gaze. He turned back to the mirror. “You lie. I command again –
show yourself, coward!”
The figure raised a
white hand, nailless finger extended towards him. “You command
nothing here.”
The Destroyer made a
jabbing motion, and Mack flew backwards. He landed in a heap on the
marbled floor, sliding to a halt. Pain emanated from his chest as
though he had been hit with a battering ram. He scrambled to his feet
and looked around, readying himself for the next blow, but still saw
nothing to defend against.
The Destroyer laughed,
the sound beating against Mack's sanity. “I am sad to say that your
journey is at an end, today.”
Its hand swept to the
left, and Mack went sliding with it, crashing into a column. He
stood, only to be knocked from his feet again at another gesture of
the creature. The blows began to come more frequently, tossing him
about as though he were a rag doll. Mack took bruises from the
columns and floor, bouncing off of them as he was sent careening
around the space. He did his best to absorb the impacts, but could
not keep up with the sheer volume.
Seconds stretched into
minutes as he was dashed into the columns and floor, until suddenly
the motion ceased. Mack spat blood as he rose to a knee, breathing
heavily and wincing at the pain of cracked ribs. He rose and slowly
approached the mirror again, watching the Destroyer's reflection
warily.
The figure in the
mirror laughed again. “Oh, what fun you have brought me.”
Mack wiped a hand
across his face, clearing his vision and some of the pain. “That is
not all that I bring you, beast.”
The Destroyer cocked
its head. “You have a tribute?”
Mack nodded. “And per
the old code, you must allow me to make my offering.”
The figure waved a
dismissive hand. “Do not speak to me of my obligations, mortal.
Present me with your gift, and then we shall return to your lesson.”
Mack smiled slowly and
began to swing his sling in a circle. He opened his mouth and spoke
the words he had been given. “I have journeyed far, with this piece
of a star. Fought battles grand within your sickly land. Now I strike
the killing blow at the beast that does not show, creating fortunes
poor as I close the door.” As he completed the verse he released
the end of his sling and the special stone flew outward. Time slowed
as it crossed the distance to the mirror, the small crystals on the
star stone glowing with a red light.
The Destroyer's eyes
opened wide as the stone reached the surface of the mirror and, with
a loud noise, bounced off the surface. It hit the ground just in
front of the mirror, rolling to a stop at Mack's feet. The laughter
came again, and the voice assaulted him once more. “It seems as
though your gift has been rejected.”
Mack smiled. “Has
it?”
The Destroyer began to
raise a hand again, but a thunderous noise interrupted his motion. A
great crack appeared in the surface of the mirror, cutting across the
middle of the creature's body. The Destroyer shook itself as though
it had been struck, but before it could recover another peal of
thunder came, and another crack, quartering the visage. Mack heard a
scream begin in his head, an anguished howl scrabbling at his mind,
but the sound was silenced as the mirror shattered into a thousand
pieces. The shards sparkled in the firelight as they fell to the
ground, the unearthly green light extinguished. As the last piece
struck the ground, a tremendous wind arose in the hall. It howled
through the columns and echoed under the vaulted ceiling, sweeping
the darkness before it as it traversed the room.
A single ray of light
stabbed down from the ceiling at the far end of the hall, then
another, and still another as they marched toward Mack from the
distance. The light reached him and he shielded his eyes against the
sudden glare, feeling the room heave beneath him. His eyes adjusted
after a moment as the rumbling died down and the wind faded, and he
opened them to gaze upon a transformed hall. Gone were the murky
firelight and shadows. In their place polished and ornate stone
glittered in sunlight, coming in through great square openings in the
vaulted ceiling.
Mack basked in the
warmth for a moment, reveling in the satisfaction of his victory. He
took a step forward, and promptly placed his foot directly on the
star stone. The stone skidded out from beneath him, taking his
balance with it as he crashed awkwardly to the ground. Mack shook
himself and rubbed at his hip, which had taken the brunt of the fall.
He looked back at the shattered mirror, and winced. Seven years was a
long time, but he was ready to face the bad luck. He put a hand down
to help himself up, and winced again as a piece of the mirror
penetrated his skin. He just hoped he would survive the ordeal.
