Gideon's Dawn

But there was no wind around it. It was as though all the wind of the Inherited Lands had been sucked into that one churning vortex, forcing all its fury into a cone of pure destruction. No sooner had it taken shape than it raced toward the Batai.

But Gideon had already turned his back on the throng. His mind was filled with other matters, other Words. The Words! They tore at his heart, ripped through his thoughts, raping him of sanity. He felt he must speak them before they destroyed him altogether, before he lost the capacity to speak at all.

He outstretched his arms toward two horizons, and set his glare on the Pearl that yet rested so placidly, so meekly, atop the Staff. Even in the fury of his growing madness, he wondered why it did not speak; why it did nothing in its own defense. Perhaps what Abaddon said was true. Perhaps the Pearl was not so mighty as it claimed.

Drawing in the deepest breath of his life, he lifted his head, and yelled the Words that had ripped his mind away.

The world fell silent as the Words echoed toward the East. Then the world was black. The vortex was gone. The people were gone. The plains had turned to nothing. Gideon closed his eyes and forced his breathing to slow-calming his thundering heart. The Words were gone now, expelled in the fury that had ravaged his sanity, and he felt a measure of peace returned to him.

After a moment, he opened his eyes, but saw only blackness. He felt suspended in a shapeless void, his Words having torn away the world-or having torn him away from it. He didn't know which. There was no sound save the rasping of his own breath, and the incessant pounding of his heart.

Deep in his mind, he questioned whether by some chance he were dead. Perhaps the voice, the voice of Abaddon the Destroyer, had tricked him, convincing him that the Words he spoke to destroy the Pearl and draw all of its power into himself might actually have done nothing more than end his own life. Or worse yet, the Words might have banished him to some netherworld existence, a place that is not a place.

Deep-stirring rage surged in Gideon as he thought of this. It would be just like the Destroyer to gain a victory through such deceit. But the High Lord wasn't Abaddon's true enemy; the Pearl was. So long as the Pearl lived, Abaddon would be forced into subjection to it. That vile spirit wanted the Pearl destroyed, probably even far more than even Gideon could conceive.

Then, quietly, gently, a light appeared within the void, looking like a distant star in the night sky. He focused on it, and his heart leapt in recognition. This was the power coming to him-the power Abaddon had promised in return for the Pearl's destruction. The power of the Pearl itself.

The light began to move toward Gideon, slowly at first, then racing, faster and faster, growing ever brighter until it silently filled his whole world. As it drew nearer, he leaned forward and stared into its immeasurable brilliance. He wanted to see the power, the limitless power, coming to reside in him, coming to be his alone.

It was just as the voice had promised, he assured himself. Just as Abaddon had said.

But as the light came close, it changed.