Terror of the Shadow

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Five long nights of fitful, dreamless sleep had still not allowed Laban to return to that other world—the better, true world. Laban had thought of telling Aristarchus about his experiences there in that other universe, brief though they were; he figured that the old man would know something about it. They talked every day, and every day Laban learned that Aristarchus' knowledge went deeper than he ever could have imagined. He had told him stories about great battles during the War, about the mysteries of Those Above, even some tales of ancient magic and sorcery from history long-forgotten. Of course, they only spoke in the late hours of the evening when the other workers had gone and they were sure no one would be able to overhear their discussions.

Laban was happy to have found another friend, as strange as the friendship might be. Even with Kol, he had always been reluctant to truly open up his feelings. It was different with Aristarchus. He could trust him.

Still, Laban was never quite comfortable enough to mention his trip to the other world. He wasn't worried about what Aristarchus would think. He just didn't know what words to say. As the days passed, the memory of his other mother and his other life had begun to fade, no matter how desperately he clung to it. Laban began to think he might not ever make it back. Perhaps it really was all a dream...

Laban laid in the most comfortable position he could find on the old, lumpy mattress. He stared up at the ceiling, silently memorizing the shapes formed by the knots in the wood. There was no sound, save for the soft breathing of his mother beside him and the occasional patter of footsteps of someone walking through the dark streets outside. Somewhere, a stray animal was spooked and let out a feral yelp.

Laban's eyelids grew heavy. The swirling patterns above seemingly started to move, crawling across the wooden ceiling like a tangle of snakes, slithering away as silently as the sands of the desert. They left naught but blackness in their wake, and soon the world was swallowed up in it.

*****

Sleep fled as slowly and as smoothly as the sun rising over the horizon. His senses began to wake up as his mind sluggishly crawled back from its dream land and into reality.

Laban opened his eyes. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. A set of thin, white curtains framed the open window. Outside, he could hear the light-hearted sound of children playing.

He pushed the blanket off and sat up. He looked down at his hands—both of them—sitting in his lap. He was back.

Laban stood and went to the window. He stuck his head outside. He could see his mother standing there, quietly and happily watching the children playing in the street. Laban couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up into a silly grin. He was home again, at long last. He wanted to relax and enjoy the bliss of his true home, but one tiny thought that gnawed at the back of his mind kept his heart racing a thousand miles an hour: how long will you be able to stay here?

"Good morning, mother!" Laban cried out the window. She turned around, smiling just as wide.

"Good morning to you, too, Laban!" she cried back. She waved her hand, motioning for him to come down and join her. Laban threw the door open and ran down the stairs. He wrapped his arms around his mother and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. She giggled.

"You slept well, then?" she said.

"Better than ever," Laban replied. "It's good to be back."

"Yes... I'm very glad that you've found your way again."

"I 'm glad too. I've been learning a lot, mom, even though it's been difficult. Everything is more difficult over there. In the other world, I mean."

"I understand," his mother said. "The Shadow Man's spell will not be easy to break."

"No... I know now that it won't be. Can you help me? Can you use the stone? In the other world, I lost it. Ithtar has taken it. He is using it to keep me trapped there."

"I know," his mother said. She reached into the small pouch at her side and pulled out the small, brown seer-stone.

"The Shadow Man can have no power over us when we are in this world," she explained. "The magic of the stone is powerful. Those Above are always protecting it."

Laban looked down at the stone. He missed its company. It had always been a loyal, unwavering comfort through his childhood. The eye, or the Occulus, as Aristarchus had called it, stared up at them.

Laban suddenly wondered if there wasn't another version of Aristarchus here in this world, too. He decided that there must be. From all that he could tell, that other world was an exact mirror of this one, albeit a dark, dirty one. Perhaps the real Aristarchus would be able to teach him about the magic of the stone.

"Will you be alright here for a while?" Laban asked.

"What do you mean? Are you leaving?"

"I just want to visit an old friend. He's just down the road... not far at all. I'll be back before dinner. I promise."

Laban leaned over and kissed his mother goodbye. He turned to leave, but her fingers had wrapped tightly around his wrist.

"No," she said.

"Mom, it's really not far. I promise. I'll only be gone a few hours."

"I said no. Whatever you need, you can find it here." Her voice was suddenly cold and flat. Even the air around her seemed to grow chill as she spoke.

"W-what... I don't..." Laban stammered.

"If you want to know the magic of the stone, I will teach you," his mother said.

How could she know the magic of the stone? Laban realized that it was probably wrong to assume that she didn't. After all, this was his true mother, and she had held the stone all her life. In the other world, Laban had tried asking his other mother about the stone, but she did not seem to know any of its secrets. Besides, her mind was broken and not all there. This was just more evidence that she was nothing but a sham created by Ithtar and his villainy.

"I'm sorry," Laban said, apologizing for trying to leave. "What can you tell me?"

His mother looked at the stone, nestled comfortably in her hands.

"I know that its power is weakening," she said, gravely. "It is sick."

"It is? How do we stop it? Can we heal it?"

"We can, but we must work quickly. I can still use it to keep Ithtar's power from affecting this world, but it may not last much longer. I have no way of knowing."

"What do I need to do?"

His mother frowned. She looked at him, seeming as if she had something to say but didn't want to say it.

"I need you... I need you to go back."

Laban's heart sank. He couldn't. He had tried for so long to get back to this world. He wouldn't go back. Not now. Yet deep in his heart he knew that his mother was telling the truth. There would be no other way to break the Shadow Man's spell.

"The Shadow has created a mirror of this world. It is corrupted and broken, but it is still connected with our own. That is why you are able to pass between them. He has gained power over your stone in the other world, and so he is using it to gain power over this one. If you cannot break his spell, the link will be broken and you will be forever trapped in the world of darkness. Then the Shadow Man will have power over both worlds. His evil will know no bounds, and he will destroy the universe."

"I understand. It's just that—"

"I know you don't want to go back, but you must. It is the only way. Do it for me, son. Retrieve the stone. Break the spell. Destroy the Shadow Man."

A gust of wind suddenly blew over them. Their house, the playful children, and even his mother were quickly obscured in a cloud of grey dust. Laban himself seemed to be carried away in it, floating far away from his world and plummeting down into the depths of his hell.