By Purpose Bound
Hamil, he of Green Lake, strode wilfully through the Broken Lands, his lengthening shadow playing haphazardly across the pitted mesas through which he sought his path. His hand rested lightly upon the haft of Reaper, his sword. Across his back he carried Kruthe, the ancient weapon with which he had been entrusted.
He was aware of the eyes that stared out at him from the numerous nooks and crannies within the rocks that he passed. They were Flinks, small inquisitive beasts that dwelt within their caves during daylight hours. Every so often he would come upon one in the open, hastily half buried in the dust, trembling, awaiting his heavy footfall that would end its meek existence. On each such occasion Hamil skirted the creature carefully. One Flink was never going to be a problem but the last thing he wanted to do was antagonise an entire nest of them. Dozens of them, with their tiny needle like teeth, could well be able to bring a single man to his knees. His determination was such that he would allow nothing to cause delay to his journey.
He recalled the events that had occurred in the marshes, prior to entering these lands. The Devil Fish that swarmed around his feet, darting in to nibble at his boots, quickly working themselves into a frenzy. He had swung Reaper wildly about as he had quickened his pace, splashing through the murky mire. In desperation he had reached over his shoulder for Kruthe. “No, Hamil,” the weapon had sung out, “I’d vaporise everything in this ungodly place, including yourself! Use Reaper only here.”
Thankfully he had soon gained the edge of the marshes and, having found firmer ground, had seated himself upon a rotting log in order to detach the more persistent fish from his boots, releasing their fangs with Reaper’s point.
At dusk he would kindle the firerocks and, as he honed Reaper’s blade with the whetstone, he would talk with Kruthe. He constantly phrased his questions differently, trying to unearth the secrets that he knew were buried within the ancient artefact. Unfortunately, Kruthe was never particularly forthcoming.
“How old are you Kruthe?”
“Older than you and yours Hamil, you know that.”
“What do you know of this Drascar?”
“That he is our destiny. It is why you were chosen by the Council, Hamil.”
“I wasn’t chosen by them Kruthe, I was chosen by you. Why would you not respond to any other?”
“It felt right Hamil. What more can I say?”
“And your purpose Kruthe, tell me of your purpose.”
“I have told you already Hamil. I will know it when it knows me.”
Such endless riddles served to pass the time before sleep overcame him. Before the dreams returned. Always dreams of Luce, at their home on the lake. Before they had taken her from him.
With dawn’s arrival there appeared a grey tower upon the horizon. At first he thought it an illusion, a trick of the light, as it appeared narrow at its base and bulbous at its summit. His destiny indeed lay before him now. Within dwelt Drascar, the thaumaturge whose pestilences had plagued the homelands for the last seven years. To bring about his end was Hamil’s sole mission. There could be no negotiation, no middle ground. The likes of Drascar were warped, maddened by the length of their existence. An existence perhaps as long as Kruthe’s.
The day was spent picking his way across a scarred and blackened wasteland, taking care not to fall foul of the razor-like welts that he had soon learnt would carve his boots to pieces. To stumble and fall upon them would also be disastrous. And so he took his time, although constantly his eyes were drawn to the improbable construction that loomed ever larger before him.
That night there was nowhere to stop, no place to settle. And besides, he now felt inexorably drawn forwards, anxious to meet this destiny, or else his doom. Thankfully, a full moon appeared from behind dark clouds to light his precarious path.
As the moon sank low in the sky Hamil stood before a pair of broken iron gates and stared up at the outlandish minaret. It appeared colossal and yet at its base it was barely six arm spans across. Beyond it was only the sea, crashing upon unseen rocks. There was no door at the tower’s base, merely a humble entrance through which he had to duck. The stairs within wound round and round and it was only after some time had passed, the beginnings of dawn glimpsed through the occasional window opening, that he realised the spiral was widening as the tower’s circumference increased. He rested once, drinking from his flask as he watched the first red sliver of sun appear over distant waves.
“Are you ready Kruthe?”
“I have always been so Hamil.”
“Should I be glad of that fact?”
“Only time will tell you that.”
He continued his ascent and was eventually disgorged into a cavernous circular room. He stood upon a ledge and before him, although at a greater height, was a great stone dais. The volume between him and the base of the dais was filled by a viscous red liquid within which serpentine shapes writhed.
Hamil, puzzling over his next move, was startled by the hail from above. “At last! Hamil of the Swamp is it? How slow you must be. It feels like years I’ve been waiting for you.” A crimson clad figure stood at the edge of the dais.
A stone step appeared in front of Hamil’s feet, then another and another, until an entire staircase spanned the nightmare aquarium. Hamil climbed them purposefully. At there summit he faced Drascar across a barren expanse.
“All this way,” the warlock frowned, “to die so pointlessly. You know not how little pleasure it will give me.”
“It is you who must die, Drascar.” Hamil drew Reaper from its scabbard.
Drascar smiled crookedly and raised his arms high, white lightening crackling between his fingertips.
A voice from Hamil’s back, “now is the time Hamil, I feel it!”
He reached over his shoulder and released Kruthe, cradling it in his arms. Immediately the weapon began to whirr and click and then proceeded to extend itself by twice its length.
“I know it now Hamil, my destiny, and it knows me. Thank you for delivering me. There may still be time, if you wish to spare yourself. Go quickly and do not look back.”
With that, the artefact flew from his grasp, across the breadth of the dais, and into the arms of Drascar, who exclaimed his delight, “yes, come to me, my sweet. We belong together, do we not?”
“Indeed we do, Drascar. In oblivion.”
And with that Kruthe accelerated the billions of particles stored deep within its metallic casing for nigh on a thousand years. Kruthe, Drascar and the head of the tower were instantly condensed to the size of a single atom. A shockwave tore through the air as it was first sucked into a space that hadn’t previously existed and was then blown outwards on the front of a billowing mushroom cloud.
Hamil lay sprawled upon the scorched and jagged ground, uncaring, almost unfeeling, of the many lacerations he had sustained in his flight from the tower’s base. He was sure it must be midday but it was as black as moonless midnight. Before long, he knew, he would collect himself and hobble the remaining distance to the edge of this barren land. Lightning split the sky above him once more. He stared into it defiantly.
“Thanks for my life, Kruthe. I think.”