Part III:
Allimer was a Prince of the elves, an heir that would never see the throne for he had a father that would never die. The elves of the Grey Lands did not die of natural causes such as old age or disease, but could die by violence. They would live as long as time itself and then like all other souls must then face the consequences of their decisions, but for a time that inevitability seemed quite remote. Some had been there at the Beginning when the worlds were forged, man rebelled, and then they themselves had crossed the River and had dwelt apart ever since. They wanted nothing to do with either the King or the Enemy or Men but preferred to live by their own laws and in their own way. The various kinds of Fairyfolk were governed by their own races and lived by their own laws, but in all matters that involved more than one race, the elves were the race to which the final decision fell. Thus had they lived for centuries and so were they happy to live until the End of Days.
They lived apart and considered themselves wiser than either the Enemy or the King and considered men a lesser race and a nuisance. The servants of the Enemy and the King were ignored as much as possible while men who were foolish enough to enter the Fairy Wood were dealt with cruelly and swiftly. Their kin that yet lived across the River had no contact whatsoever with them and were considered something akin to mankind in their infancy of mind that would allow them to live willingly under the dominion of the King. Those few among them that actually wished to seek the King were shunned by all their relations and usually crossed the River in despair, for they no longer found solace among their own kind in the Grey Lands. The Enemy bothered little about them for they would one day be his without any effort on his own part, save in encouraging them to rebel in the first place. The King sent his servants but they were ignored or killed to no avail.
Occasionally the occupants of the Fairy Wood, especially the restless youngsters or more nefarious elders, would stray from their own realm and go wandering in the lands of men, seeing what mischief they might cause or what adventures they might have. Men feared those woods with good reason for few who went in came out, and none unchanged by the encounter. Such were the tales of chance encounters with such folk that some thought it all a myth while others feared to go much beyond the borders of their own village. Adventurers and young men often ventured into those woods hoping to find themselves the hero of some tale but more often the only tale told was of a quick and tragic end. There were rumors of gold and beautiful elven maidens lurking aplenty in those woods but few were those brave or mad enough to see if the tales were true.
Such was the world in which Allimer found himself. He had no great future ahead of him and as a son of royalty he had no lack of wealth and respect and influence. He had no challenge or interest or purpose in life. He was bored. Finally the day came when he could stand it no longer and approached his father saying, “my heart is not content to linger here in luxury and safety or I shall go mad. I wish to go abroad (by which he meant to leave the Fairy Wood and wander about in the lands of men for a time).”
His father said, “as you wish it my son, so shall it be. I look forward to hearing of your adventures. It is always amusing to hear tales of how men react to our intrusions into their lands. Farewell.”
The boy bowed and went to prepare for his journey. He and his dearest friend meant to ride forth together and see what the wide world held for them. The other boy was of common birth but that mattered but little to the prince for he cared nothing for such distinctions. They mounted their horses and rode off into the growing day, eager to see what life was like beyond the cloistered forest. Unlike many of their kin, they did not hold men in complete contempt but would rather see these strange creature for themselves and then make up their own minds upon the matter. They had many minor reasons for going, but the main reason that they allowed no one, most of all themselves, to know was that they were not content with what they knew of the history of their people and their deepest held beliefs. They wanted to go out and see if they could discover for themselves if there was a deeper truth in the world or if it was as everyone assumed it to be. They were many days upon the road before they came out of the territory held by the Fairyfolk into lands more hospitable to men. Each wore a floppy hat that hung down and covered their ears that men not see that they were anything but strangely tall, lithe, and pale folk.
They finally came to a village upon a market day and watched curiously as all the various folk frantically hastened from place to place, laughing, yelling, singing, bargaining, complaining, and all the other frenzied activities found in such a place at such a time. Such a chaotic and hectic ordeal was never seen among the more noble Fairyfolk and would have been sneered upon by more lofty minds, but the two youths found the whole ordeal strangely charming. Evening fell and they found themselves drawn to the inn where the locals had retired after the tumult of the day. They found a table, procured some of the local ale and provender, and listened in astonishment as a man by the fire told tale after tale to the gathered throng. They were amused to hear supposed tales of their own race and fellow Fairyfolk, but this made them wonder at all the rumors held to be true about men among their own folk. What if it was a mutual misunderstanding? What else had been misconstrued, misunderstood, ignored, or forgotten by the Fairyfolk over time? The storyteller finally grew weary of speaking and withdrew to his room after collecting the coins generously donated by the grateful patrons for his efforts. Another man stood, this one in his middle years though he seemed far older, for his had not been an easy life.
He began to speak also, but though his was a quieter manner his words were far more fervent. He spoke of the Great King and the Enemy and their unending war for the souls of men and the Last Day and of many other things that deeply troubled the hearts of the two vagabonds. Some of the patrons scarce paid heed while others could not draw themselves from his words. Some cheered, more booed, most just ignored the man. He finished his soliloquy and withdrew to a private corner where a few gathered with many questions. The hour was growing late when the last of his questioners withdrew and only he, the innkeeper, and the two young elves remained in the common room. The innkeeper obliviously went about the last of his evening chores and the two finally approached the one. He eyed them curiously but said nothing.
They studied one another for many minutes before finally Allimer spoke, “are you simply a storyteller, as was the man who preceded you telling myth, history, and legend only to earn your keep, or are you a man of the truth?”
The man smiled good naturedly and said, “I know I speak truly lad but whether you accept what I say as truth is your choice to make. Some see me as much a teller of tales as that other fellow. Are you curious, skeptical, adamantly opposed, or a fervent believer?”
The elf prince for a moment felt insulted to be called ‘lad’ by a creature only a few decades old when he himself had lived for centuries, but then he remembered the man would not know that so allowed the feeling to pass but not unperceived by the man. Allimer said, “we are seekers after truth my good man. We as yet do not know what to believe. All our lives we have heard one thing defined as truth and tonight we hear something altogether different. How is one to know?”
The man laughed warmly, “an excellent question and all I can say is follow your heart. Listen to the evidence, weigh it in your mind, and then decide yourself if it is truth or folly, but ware, for it is the most important decision you shall ever make.”
“How come you to believe, nay not only believe but to preach this matter regardless that others might consider you a fool?” asked the prince.
The man said, “I have more regard for what the King shall think of me than what any man can say about me or do to me. I once thought as you, that it was all myth and wishful thinking, but I have come to see differently and know it to be true. I know men who have willingly died for such ideas and a nobler death I know not. I have seen others abandon everything to serve th
e King and a life of greater purpose one cannot imagine. I have seen great and wonderful things in my life but also tragic and terrible, but even in the darkest night I know that in the end all that is right and good shall triumph and this night is but a passing shade.”
The prince and his friend were impressed by the man’s passion and Allimer asked, “and what is it to serve this King of yours?”
The man said, “each man’s service is different I suppose. Some are Wanderers such as I, nomads who go from place to place spreading word of what the King has done for us, or perhaps we stay somewhere that is never quite home, for ours is not a mortal country but lies beyond the River. Others stay where they are and live quietly loving their neighbors and raising their families and serving the Master as they might. Then there are those strange folk who abandon all, including mortal life, to serve their King with all their heart and being. These mysterious men are called the Messengers and ride at the behest of their Lord to defend the innocent against the predations of the vile minions of the Enemy.”
Allimer was curious, “they speak little of such emissaries of the King in my lands, for such men are considered beneath our notice but you speak of them highly.”
Warde’s eyes lost their focus for a moment as his mind wandered to years long gone and said, “many would call them fools but the world would be a dark place indeed if not for their aide to mortal men for none else can stand against the minions of darkness, yet they hold back the tide that men may yet live in relative peace and safety, at least from such powers as that. I met one of them once long ago. In former days he had been something of a friend but then he disappeared only to reappear in ignominy whereby he shook the whole city. He vanished once more and we all thought him dead, but when he returned for the final time he saved the kingdom from a terrible plot at great cost to himself. Yes I will speak of them with respect, for I owe him my life and the greatest thanks. One lifetime is enough for me to live, I think he shall serve until the very end of time yet never find rest or a home, though he could certainly cross the River at the time of his choosing.”
Allimer was intrigued and said, “I would be honored to meet such a person. How does one arrange such a meeting?”
Warde shook his head, “that I cannot say. They hardly know themselves where their next assignment will take them or when. But I think if you seek them with pure intention perhaps your prayer shall be answered.”
The elves retired for the evening and wondered at the strange man’s words. As they lay in their blankets under all the stars of heaven, Allimer said to his companion, “what think you of this man and his tales?”
His companion yawned and said, “there is truth in his words, you can feel it. Or at least you can feel that he thinks all the world of what he says. These are words to make a soul quake and yet dare to hope. What of you?”
Allimer smiled vaguely up at the starry host and said, “I think my father would be ashamed of me yet I feel ashamed of the way our folk have behaved since the beginning if all our history be true! We think ourselves the epitome of all created things yet we did not create ourselves. How can we hold our Maker in disdain when we must certainly be less than he? Is this not the same spirit of rebellion that drove the Dark One from the presence of the King? Where he was cast aside, our people chose to walk away. We are a race of arrogant fools if all this be true. I must learn more, but I think already it has snared my heart and will soon gladly consume my whole being.”
His companion said, “your thoughts are an exact echo of my own. Let us learn more and oh, that it could be I that returns to our people and tells them that which they need most to hear.” Allimer said nothing but smiled thoughtfully before sweet sleep fell upon him.
Morning came as morning has since that first bright dawn and warmed the face of the sleeping prince. He opened his eyes and greeted the new risen morn with a smile and a hope he had not known before. Finally, he thought he had found a purpose not only for himself but for all creation and all things beyond. Allimer’s companion had wandered off some distance by himself and sat beside a little chattering brook deep in thought. He looked up when his concerned friend wandered over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked into the prince’s worried eyes and said, “I have sat up half the night and all the morning and know what I must do but I fear you will think me a fool. I would follow this wanderer wherever he goes for a time, learn all that he has to teach me, and then I will return to our people and tell them that which they refuse to hear from any other source.”
Allimer smiled and said, “I had come to tell you something that I thought you would call foolish but now I see that I am the fool to be so thinking. That which you wish to pursue is no small matter and a thing needful to our people. I wish you well my friend, for all the future hopes of our people certainly rest upon your shoulders. I fear my future lies along another path than yours. I want to find one of these Messengers and learn the truth of such service.” Each looked long into the gaze of the other and what passed between them said more than words ever could. They parted then, each to follow his own path. Feladon sought out and was eagerly welcomed by the Wanderer though Warde was quite surprised to learn the true nature of his new pupil; he was quite eager to see what might result from such an adventure. Allimer rode off alone to see if he might not find one of these legendary men.
He rode in silence for three days but saw no one. Finally he came to another village where he reluctantly took a seat in the back of the common room and watched hopefully but his heart had begun to despair of ever learning the truth of that which he had so eagerly set forth to learn. He had been three days alone and he missed Feladon acutely, he missed the familiarity of his own folk, and he was beginning to doubt the seed of hope that had only begun to grow in his heart. He began to feel himself a fool for ever undertaking this adventure, let alone for believing the man and abandoning his reason and his only friend in this strange world he found himself in. If there were some all powerful King could he not keep such feelings from afflicting the hearts of earnest souls?
“You look troubled,” said a plainly dressed man standing next to his table. Allimer started at the voice and glanced around at the empty common room, wondering why the fellow chose to bother him and not find his own seat elsewhere. “May I sit down?” asked the stranger. Allimer nodded vaguely, not really caring what the man did so long as he was left to ponder in peace. He had not expected such a mythic person to jump out of the trees before him but neither had he expected to feel so utterly alone. He sighed and was surprised to find himself eye to eye with the stranger.
“What is it you want?” asked the exasperated elf.
The man smiled in secret amusement and said, “that is an excellent question, but I am afraid that I will not know until you tell me what it is that is troubling you.”
The elf stared in surprise, “you want me to reveal my heart to a complete stranger?”
The man laughed, “you certainly need to speak to someone, desperately by the look of you, and I see no close relative or other confidant about thus I must do.”
The elf could not help but smile at the man’s curious logic. He said, “I suppose you have the right of it. Though you may think me mad, I shall unburden my heart upon you but remember it is a burden you asked to bear.” The man nodded encouragingly and the elf began, “I am of royal blood and becoming dissatisfied with life as I knew it, I set out with a friend to seek adventure and knowledge in lands strange to me. Upon an evening we heard a man telling strange tales and our hearts were moved. My friend went with that teller of tales to learn more that he might then carry what he had learned back to our impoverished people. I wished him well and went in search of truth as well, but find myself alone, discouraged, and regretting my rash decision. I begin to wonder why I ever felt such hope and was so eager as to abandon all my former wisdom and even my kin.”
The man said, “discouragem
ent and disillusionment are bound to follow such hope and eagerness as sure as night follows day. You cannot expect a simple feeling to last forever for they are as unyielding as the tides in their ever changing and shifting patterns. Your hope will be renewed as will the eagerness come again but you must not be dismayed when your hope grows dim or your purpose cold. Cling to what you know to be true and even in the darkest night you will not be led astray and morning shall come again and joy with it.”
The prince smiled saying, “you speak well for a stranger and seem to know well the hearts of men.”
Bryant laughed, “even the heart of an elf it seems.”
The elf winced, “is it that obvious? Why are you not afraid?”
The man smiled, “most folk would not be looking to see an elf thus your hat will be disguise enough but I assume nothing and therefore cannot be so easily fooled. Why should I fear one who comes in peace?”
The elf sighed, “you are a very strange man.”
Bryant nodded as if this were certainly true and the elf laughed to see him take no offense. “What is it you seek?” asked the man.
The elf sighed, “I have trusted you this much so perhaps I can risk looking even more a fool before you. I seek to learn more of a mysterious folk known as the Messengers. Know you anything of them?”
The man smiled mysteriously and said, “I think I could answer a few questions pertaining to them.”
Allimer smiled and said, “that is good, for I was beginning to think them a myth!”
The man laughed, “but they are a myth. At least to most men, for few see them and even fewer know the truth of them. What would you know of such a legend?”
Allimer said, “what are they? Who are they? How do I find them should I wish to join them?”
Bryant said, “brave questions but I shall answer as I may. The Messengers are those who choose to devote their entire being in service to the King. He sends them where he will, when he will. Their whole purpose becomes to fulfill his wishes in various matters, which usually means confronting all the evil and vile servants of the Enemy in all their myriad forms and schemes. It is no easy life for they are not spared pain, sorrow, and shame but ever is the joy and hope of the Master within them also. They have tasted of the River and therefore cannot die but not having crossed the River are yet vulnerable to all the griefs of this present age.”
He continued, “only those with a fervent desire to serve their King in all things dare such a life but it is one well spent. They come from all lands and all peoples and any with a humble and fervent spirit can seek to ride among them. To join them you must take the Road and come successfully to its end; ware however, for it is not a journey taken lightly for it will try you severely and may even cost you your life. If you decide to take that path you abandon all you once held dear to seek a higher calling; above all you must never leave the Road else you will not find it again. Many tricks and traps abound upon it and many are those who have fallen afoul of them.”
Allimer’s eyes were wide but he now knew that it was for this he had left his home and all his life behind. He said, “tell me how to find this Road and I shall tread it.”
Bryant said quietly, “just go out the door and follow the road you find there and it will lead you true.”
Allimer did not understand in the least but was sure that he must accomplish this strange thing. He spent much of the night asking questions of the man regarding the King, and well into the late watches of the night was firmly convinced of the truth. He said, “when shall I begin this journey?”
The man said, “right now.” Allimer would have dearly loved a few hours of sleep but he dared not deny the sage that stood plainly clad before him. He thanked the man profusely, found his horse, and was off into the night. Bryant watched him go with a curious smile upon his face and then vanished into the night.
Erian stood outside waiting for him and asked, “well?”
Bryant laughed at his old friend’s comment and said, “our mission is finished for the night but what shall come of it only the boy knows.”
Erian rolled his eyes, “he is centuries older than you.”
Bryant nodded, “but he is still a boy by the standards of his people, whereas I am finally considered something of a man by the standards of mine. I think it has been at least thirty years since we set out together upon the Road.”
Erian snorted, “considering that time is of no matter to you and that you no longer age, I think your conjecture quite ill founded.”
Bryant laughed with his friend but before he could mount, found that Jonin standing beside him. These sudden appearances and disappearances of friends, the shifting of surroundings, and the erratic movements of time no longer confused or even surprised him; it was simply a normal part of the world in which he lived. They greeted one another warmly, Erian nodded regally to Sebiki, who yawned lazily in return. Bryant asked, “now what trouble have you come to embroil me in or rescue me from?”
Jonin smiled at his jest but soon sobered as he said, “your adventurer may be in for more than he bargained for. The Enemy is quite determined that none of his race should enter service with the Messengers and is setting his minions upon the Road to ensure that it does not happen. There are worse than Dreadlords upon the Road. You must ride escort without letting him know that you do so. Keep the fell servants of the Enemy from him but leave him in peace to succeed or fail at the tasks set before him. I am off to ward the boy’s friend and the Wanderer he has taken up with, for the Enemy is even more opposed to him learning what he must and returning to his people. Farewell.” Bryant exchanged a startled look with Erian and took hard to the Road after the elf.
They easily caught the elven lad, who saw them not for the speed of their travel. They cleared many servants of the Enemy from the Road that night, but they would come again and there were certainly others of a more insidious nature they had failed to discover even with the keen sight granted them in such matters. The Road cleared ahead and behind, the ever watchful pair shadowed the boy for several days as he rode and as he slept, to see that no fell thing came upon him not native to the Road, for they would not and could not interfere in that testing. He must succeed or fail as he would but they would not let the Enemy aide in the latter. Erian could pass easily through the tangled wood along the Road, for the brush hindered him as little as walls his rider if he put his mind to it. This offered ample cover that they might watch for ambush or a trap yet did not allow the elf to know of their presence. The boy had faced and overcome several challenges in the ensuing days and now slept soundly while his hidden guardians warded his rest.
A sudden movement or perhaps a shifting shadow or a light where none should have been suddenly alerted Bryant to a new threat upon the boy’s safety. Mortal eyes could never have seen such a thing and even his had difficulty in seeing the creatures though he knew them there. The Grimok was perhaps the most devious and deadly of the servants of the Enemy. Their strange hide reflected all light or perhaps it bent around them, but one way or another they could not be seen, merely sensed by those so able. They were very able assassins and the Enemy used them when all other means failed. Whatever their true form, it was known they carried a deadly venom that rendered its victim dead within seconds and there was no known antidote nor could one be administered in the time before death ensued.
Bryant slid from Erian’s back, sword bared. He struck blindly but felt his blade strike flesh. Even the screams of the creatures could not be heard. First one, then the other thudded heavily to the ground and then even the corpse somehow dissolved or vanished leaving no trace the things had ever been. Allimer shifted uneasily in his sleep but did not waken or even know he had been in terrible danger. A sudden pain flared in Bryant’s shoulder, as if he had been clipped by an arrow; a small patch of red upon his tunic betrayed the fact. A sudden weakness overwhelmed him, as if he tried to uphold th
e whole earth upon his shoulders, but he scanned the area, looking for the source of the fell shaft. He caught sight of a fleeing form and gave chase but Bryant felt as if he were trying to run through thick mud.
A Dreadlord stood upon the Road, as if waiting for his pursuer to catch up. “So it is again,” laughed the Dreadlord, “turn for turn, we are equal.” Bryant gave him a dumbfounded look, half out of exhaustion and half from confusion. The Dreadlord scowled, “know you not the face of your foe? It is Ephod you fool! As you did to me I now do to you and so do I abandon you to the mercies of your friend’s kin!” Bryant could hardly comprehend what the fiend was talking about but knew he could not allow the fell minion to linger so close to the boy. With his failing strength, he drove his sword into the Dreadlord’s chest and collapsed as darkness took him; only as he fell into darkness did he fully realize what that small spot of blood portended, for the Messengers did not bleed.
Allimer awoke with the sun and the impertinent singing of birds who would not allow weary pilgrims to sleep any longer. He made a breakfast with what his saddlebags held, refreshed himself from his waterskin, mounted, and took to the Road, but hardly had he left the little clearing where he had sought shelter for the night than his horse nearly stumbled over a prone form lying in the Road. Fearing some trap, but unable to leave a body in the Road, Allimer dismounted to investigate. He gently turned the man over and gasped; it was the stranger from the inn who had set him on this insane journey. He looked the man over but found no injury, save a very shallow graze on his left shoulder. The man’s sword lay nearby, as if he had had need of it but had blacked out in mid-strike. A ragged sorrel gelding stood not far off and looked at the elf with dull eyes. Allimer went to his own horse, fetched his waterskin, and splashed a few drops on the man’s face. His closed eyes blinked at the insult and he raised a hand to ward of the offending drops. He sat up slowly, looked about him, and flinched to see Allimer leaning over him. He looked equally surprised to see his sword nearby.
Allimer smiled cheerfully and said, “what happened? I thought I was alone upon this strange path, save for the bizarre folk sent to test me. Are you also a test?”
Bryant rose slowly to his feet and thoroughly inspected himself, finding only the scrape on his shoulder as witness to the events of the previous night. Gingerly he reached for his sword, as if he thought it might vanish or bite, but it was quite firm in his hand and he replaced it in its scabbard. He looked at the horse that stood nearby and Erian winked at him. He smiled quietly in thanks that he was not alone in his encore with mortality. Bryant then faced the boy and said, “occasionally strangers or old friends meet upon the Road. I happened to be upon it and encountered a fell villain near the place you were sleeping and was able to destroy him but I fear the encounter was too much for me it, for no sooner had I struck than I fell unconscious as you just found me.”
Allimer said, “would it please you to travel together for a time? Is such allowed on this odd journey?”
Bryant looked plaintively at Erian, not quite sure if such was allowed but the stallion nodded minutely. Mortal or not, they still had their duty to do in protecting the boy from the fell servants of the Enemy. Bryant said, “most travel alone, but for a time some are allowed company upon the way, but if a parting comes you must not let it slow you or cause you to veer from the Road. I will travel willingly with you if you promise not to hinder your journey for my sake should the time of parting come, no matter if it cost me my life.”
Allimer eyed him strangely but nodded saying, “it will be pleasant to have such a companion though I fear your terms will one day try my heart sorely. I will do as you say. Is this another test to see that my heart is true?”
Bryant said, “I am not sure what part I shall play in your journey but I will do what I can to see that you travel free from the treachery of the Dark One. I cannot help you in the traps laid before you but perhaps I can keep you from unnecessary danger. You must still complete the journey successfully and alone.”
The boy shook his head and said, “you are a very strange man indeed, but I welcome your company for as long as I have it. Come, the day wastes.”
They both found their respective mounts and were soon on their way. As they traveled, the boy spoke of his life and his people and of many tales of the Fairyfolk. He asked Bryant also of his life and people. Bryant simply said, “I was once the son of a King but fled in dishonor and returned after finding the True King, only to be laughed at by all my folk. I have wandered the world since, doing what I can in service to my Lord and leaving others to tell my confused people of the ways of the King.”
Allimer laughed, “to think we are both exiled royalty!”
Bryant smiled sadly, “at least you left willingly. I was driven away for my foolishness and pride.”
The conversation was cut short as Allimer drew rein and looked about him in amazement, “such trees as these are certainly found only deep in the Fairywood! I ride unknowingly through my own country yet I have never seen such a Road in such a place before and I know well all the forests of that land.”
Bryant said quietly, “the Road lies not in one place but wanders where it will and must, that each heart upon it might be found true or not. No man can map it and its course is never the same but it will ever lead you true.”
Allimer shook his head in wonder but they continued on their way in silence, before the prince spoke saying, “this is no kind place to mortal men. You are either a fool or have more courage than sense to press on with me so.”
Bryant said quietly, “I will go where I must. I know well the dangers of this place for one such as I. Remember your promise if things go ill. Ware!” Erian reared and screamed a challenge, looking little like the placid gelding he seemed.
A Dreadlord and a dozen Soldiers rode swiftly towards them. The man and the elf both had their swords bared; Bryant wondered if his blade was mortal like himself or still a blade able to destroy the Enemy’s servants. In the seconds before battle was met Bryant yelled, “your blade is of elvish make?” The elf nodded. Bryant continued, “good, then it will be of some effect against these fiends. Block their blows as you may but no wound of yours will subdue such foes unless you sever the head from the body. Nothing else will even slow them.”
The boy nodded grimly and set himself for battle. Erian and Bryant followed suit. No mortal horse would stand in the presence of a Dreadlord and his fell minions, but the horses of the elves were not like the foolish horses of men and trusted their masters such that they would not flee even in the presence of such a fiend. All Dreadlords looked the same but Bryant somehow knew this one to be Ephod. After his failure as a Spy he had somehow been assigned another role in the service of his fell master. He came for Bryant and left the Soldiers to finish off the elf. Bryant felt the fear and hatred that emanated from his late friend but he would not give in to the quailing of his now mortal flesh. Ephod mocked, “not afraid I see, but I will not give thee death but shall lock you away forever in the darkness, for so it was you left me.” Bryant sighed, saw that the prince would shortly be overwhelmed, and knew he must deal with the Dreadlord quickly. His only concern was that his blade would do nothing against such a foe but there was no way to tell but to try.
He had no need to spur Erian forward for the Pegassi knew well his intention and they were nearly atop the Dreadlord when Bryant buried his sword in Ephod’s chest. The Dreadlord had been so absorbed in his mocking that he failed to block the oncoming stroke and was swiftly defeated. Bryant smiled to know he was not completely helpless in the fight. Erian turned that they might help Allimer but the boy had found allies of a curious nature and the ranks of the Soldiers were quickly decimated. Their last foe finally fell and Allimer put up his blade but not so his allies. He said brightly to his kin, “I thank you for your aide in thwarting these sinister foes but why have you not put away your swords?”
/> The captain of the small company of elves said, “we cannot abide servants of the Dark One in our own forests, let alone assaulting our beloved prince, thus we came to your aide but neither can we abide mortal men trespassing likewise.”
Allimer scowled, “this man rides under my protection and we are on a journey for which my father has given his permission. Hinder us no further!”
The captain sighed, “I am sorry my prince, but I advise you to abandon this folly and return to your father immediately for there are fell things abroad. These are not the first such we have encountered. You may continue on your way in peace but nowise can we let this man pass. If you wish such a companion you must plead with your father on his behalf.”
Allimer’s eyes were wide with horror and confusion. He dared not leave Bryant in the hands of his people but neither could he leave the Road. Bryant solved the dilemma for him, but not in a way in which he could ride away without feeling some measure of shame, but so had he promised. Bryant sheathed his sword, removed his swordbelt, and handed it to Allimer saying, “I give this into your keeping, for I shall have need of it should we meet again but you must not touch the hilt or remove it from its sheath. Touch only the scabbard.”
Allimer gasped, “you cannot mean to go with them?”
Bryant shook his head and said, “what choice do they leave us? Ride on for you must. More sorrow will come if you fail than if I allow myself to be so captured. Be vigilant for more of the Enemy’s minions, firm in your purpose, and you will come to your destination. Fear not, for we shall meet again one day if we both remain true.”
Allimer took the blade and looked at it sadly and then looked to its former keeper saying, “I shall do as you say though it tries my heart sorely.”
Bryant smiled sadly, “this shall not be the first nor the last time such a feeling shall rend your heart in two, but it is the price of the service you seek. Farewell!”
Bryant allowed himself to be taken into custody, the captain eyed the prince strangely but made no move towards him, and then the whole company vanished into the Fairywood leaving Allimer to stare at the blade that was perhaps the only memory he would have of his strange friend whose name he did not even know. He secured the blade in his luggage, turned his horse, and rode into the growing evening with a heavy heart.
Bryant’s hands were bound and another held Erian’s reins, which vexed the Pegassi greatly. They traveled deep into the forest and rode for most of the night. Bryant found himself nodding in the saddle when they finally rode through the gates of a great city and the clatter of hooves on cobblestones fully roused him. He gazed around curiously at the strangeness of the architecture to his human eyes. No one was abroad at this time of night so the journey through the winding streets of the city was swift. The guards upon the castle gates let them pass unheeded. In the courtyard, Bryant was told to slide from his saddle. The moment he complied, Erian reared and screamed, pulling loose his reins and vanished out the open gate ere they could catch him. They looked at the gate out which the horse had fled, but caring little for the creature they escorted the captive into the palace that he might stand before the king. The king was roused though not happy for the disturbance of his sleep; he was deeply curious as to why a man was traveling with his son.
“Why were you keeping company with my son and where is he bound that he cannot even turn aside to speak with his father?” demanded the king once he was regally clad and seated upon his throne in the great hall.
Bryant’s guards forced him to his knees before the king and he said, “sire, he found me unconscious upon the road this morning and asked if I might join his party. I agreed to accompany him for a time if it did not hinder the errand upon which he rides. I once gave him some advice when he traveled in the lands of men and he knew me for a friend. Where that road shall take him, none knows until he reaches its end.”
The king sighed, “you are a rather dull prisoner. Perhaps some time in the dungeons shall loosen your tongue.” He said something in his own language, which Bryant smiled to know he could still understand, the translation of which was ‘give him the usual treatment.’ A guard cuffed him across the base of the skull with a gauntleted hand and he fell again into darkness.
Bryant awoke not long after to find himself alone in a dank cell; the guard outside stared in mercilessly but seeing the prisoner awake, wandered out of sight for the time to attend to other tasks. The man looked about the cell, seeking some means of escape and could not believe his eyes to see hope so obvious. Upon a nail high upon one wall within the cell hung a key that looked as if it might open the cell door. What nonsense was this? If it were some trap he had best spring it, for the longer he rotted in this cell the more chance the Enemy had of assailing the prince upon his journey. He took the key and easily opened the door but was soon set upon by several guards lingering just around the corner. They bound his hands cruelly and taking his shoulders drug him back before the king.
Again in a forced crouch, Bryant faced the king, who said in amazement, “how is it you come to find the key so quickly?”
Bryant gave him an odd look, “who hangs a key in plain sight within the very cell it opens?”
The king scoffed, “no mortal eye can see that key. Some molder years in that cell before chance brings the key within their grasp and even then some do not believe it, though they can feel its weight in their hands. It is quite an amusing diversion with such prisoners.” The king looked more closely at his prisoner and gazed deeply into those unflinching eyes and said, “yours are not the eyes of a mortal man.” He drew the gilded dagger from his belt and slashed it across Bryant’s cheek, drawing forth a thin line of blood; he laughed, “but your flesh is certainly mortal. I can send you to a swift end or perhaps you are more deserving of a lingering death?” Bryant did not even blink at such a pronouncement, his only concern was getting back to Allimer and doing his best to keep him out of the Enemy’s clutches. The king noticed his lack of care and snarled, “or perhaps I can throw you into the deepest dungeon I possess and leave you to rot for all of your natural life! Who or what are you? What have you to do with my son? What foolish quest has the boy embroiled himself in?”
Bryant said firmly, “whatever your decision, make it quickly whether to kill me or set me free. I am entrusted with protecting your son from the minions of the Enemy who assail the Road upon which he travels. The longer I linger here the less chance has he of completing his task. Such foes will surely kill him or worse, take him to their dark prison at the gates into the Infernal Realms and there he shall know torment indeed! Locking me away will avail you nothing, save perhaps to have some small part in your son’s demise, for then I cannot aide him.”
The king laughed scornfully, “and why would I seek your aide in this matter?”
Bryant said quietly but with an edge like a knife, “mortal I may be, but I will protect your son with all that is within me, even if cost me my life. I am a servant of the King and it was he that sent me to protect your son.”
The king said, “I do not wish my son to be involved with your King.”
Bryant said, “the choice is his to make and he is set on this course unless the Enemy has his way. He is determined that the boy not reach the end of the Road upon which he travels. Would you rather have the boy in the service of the True King or rather dead or a prisoner of the Evil One? Holding me only aides the latter.”
The king snarled, “we escaped to this place that we might be left in peace by both your King and your Enemy but both seem intent on disturbing our rest.”
Bryant said, “the world is the King’s and he may do with it and its occupants as he pleases. The Enemy cares little for anyone’s laws, even those of the King. The Grey Lands are disputed territory and the war is bound to spill over into all lands no matter how reluctant and all must choose a side.”
The king sighed, “I wish no part in this lit
tle war of yours. I wish even less to see my son in the hands of the Enemy. But neither can I loose you, for mortal men are not allowed to roam our lands alone. If there is one of my subjects who would agree to accompany you I will allow your release, else you will rot in a cell until I have other need of it and have you executed.” He then spoke loudly to the gathered crowd of Fairyfolk that had come to witness the spectacle, “will anyone here risk my wrath should this mortal misbehave, to save his life and see him safely to our borders?”
There was much mumbling and scoffing but no one stood forth until a voice in the back of the crowd said, “I will bear him thus.” The king looked up in surprise and there were many murmurs of amazement and awe as all saw who it was that had spoken. Many of that folk remembered the Pegassi from the time before their exodus across the River and had not seen one since; that one stood among them was a miracle indeed.
Erian came forth to claim his errant rider and the king said in astonishment, “you will willingly bear such a pathetic creature and risk my wrath to do so? Know you not that any trouble he causes will be upon your own head.”
Erian snorted, “he will behave himself I think. Once I would have baulked at such a burden but now I bear it joyfully.”
The king asked, “how is it that one of your noble race is come across the River? Have you indeed seen the folly of your ways and rebelled against the King? We see your kind but seldom and then always in the company of men.”
Erian said, “I once rebelled against my King but know now the folly of such thinking. I am again in his service. My people do not cross the River of their own accord. We are either banished or leave willingly to aide the King’s Messengers.”
The king scoffed, “how is it then you are alone and willing to carry a mere mortal? The Messengers have moved beyond mortality, for my people cannot capture or accost them, thus we leave them in peace that they might return the favor.”
Erian snorted, “know you not that you have finally captured one of these legendary creatures? You have commented upon his strangeness yourself.”
The king laughed, “if he is a Messenger then the power of the King is truly waning.”
Erian said, “he is indeed of that calling though a fell weapon of the Enemy has rendered him thus even as he protected your son while he slept. He has tasted of the River and that cannot be taken from him even though he again walks among the living. He has been my faithful friend and companion for many years and I will bear him still though you consider it beneath my dignity.”
“Very well,” said the king, “I shall forgive you this lecture and grant him to your keeping but if he strays from your sight within our bounds his life is forfeit.”
Erian nodded, as did the king, and the guards cut the ropes binding Bryant’s hands. He stood and threw his arms around the arching neck of his friend and whispered quietly, “thank you my friend.”
Erian snorted, “we have our duty to be about and I certainly cannot do this alone.”
Bryant laughed, “as long as this was done entirely for the purpose at hand then we had best be about it.” He swung easily onto the stallion’s back, much to the agitation of all those gathered who thought it quite presumptuous and degrading.
The king said, “protect well my son on whatever fell quest he is about.” Bryant nodded grimly and Erian fled with all the speed he possessed.
Soon they were upon the Road and seeking once more the wandering boy. Erian said, “I shadowed the boy last night and saw that he was well defended by the roving bands of warriors the elven king has set to watch for the minions of evil. He has encountered many of his people who have begged, bribed, pleaded, sneered, boasted, and otherwise tempted him to abandon his course but he has stayed true. My hope is that we shall arrive before he leaves the relative safety of his homeland. How fare you my dear mortal?”
Bryant laughed, “glad indeed to be free of my captors and to know we have not yet failed in our duty. Besides for the tedious constraints of mortality I feel quite myself.” Erian looked at him curiously and Bryant expounded, “I have forgotten what it is to need sleep and nourishment on a regular basis!”
Erian shook his head in amusement, “if that is the worst you suffer then you have nothing to complain about.” Bryant laughed at his friend’s amusement but sobered as he truly pondered the thought.
It was not long before they came upon the boy who pushed steadily onward. He heard their approach and turned his horse suddenly with sword bared and nearly dropped it in surprise and relief to see the intruders. He gasped, “how is it you are free of my father?”
Bryant shook his head, “the hospitality of your people is certainly lacking but I pressed upon him the necessity of my quest and he was lenient.”
The elf laughed, “a thing seldom done in all the history of our people! It is good to have you back, for I fear I will need your sword before long as we are leaving the lands held by my people and entering a land strange to me.” He proffered Bryant’s sword and he gratefully replaced the weapon.
As they rode on, Allimer spoke of the encounters he had had with his people and how they had pleaded with him to stay, how they had scoffed and sneered at him, how a beautiful girl of his acquaintance had promised to marry him if only he would remain, and even some of his brothers had promised to have the king disown him if he did not turn around. He then asked, “how long is this journey?”
Bryant laughed, “as long as it must be.”
Allimer said, “why do you only speak in riddles? Why do I feel there is a whole world about me that I cannot sense or see?”
Bryant said quietly, “perhaps there is. In deciding to follow the King you have taken your first steps upon the path whose end is a world more strange and beautiful than any this side of the River can imagine and much happens in the war between the King and his Enemy that we in our fallen state fail to recognize. It is a whole new world my friend, and one more real than we can even begin to imagine.”
As they rode, Bryant wondered at the difference in the things sent to test the elf and that which he himself had faced so long ago. Then he began to consider that the elf could probably see the false face of the witch, the goblins, and all the other things that had pretended to be something they were not, such a façade would not fool the elf as it did mortal men, but the ties to his people would be hard to sunder but so far the boy had succeeded. Bryant wondered how Jonin was getting on with Warde and the boy’s friend. Suddenly Bryant noticed the land around him and his heart sank, they were nearing the goblin village. He said to his companion, “whatever happens next, you must press on. There are horrors ahead.”
Allimer eyed him nervously but pressed his horse into a trot, as he topped the hill he looked with horror upon a teeming swarm of goblins running up the downward side intent on murder. “Ride!” shouted Bryant as Erian dove into the midst of the horde and lashed out with teeth and hooves while his rider struck with his sword. Allimer wasted no time and laid his heels to the horse’s flanks and the beast was only too willing to run. The goblins were surprised by the sudden flight of the one and distracted by the rampage of the other. Allimer managed to slip through and escape their grasp but Erian and Bryant found themselves greatly outnumbered. Erian had little to fear, but Bryant would face a hideous death at their hands if captured. Seeing Allimer free, they fought their way out of the horde and gave chase; thankfully the fiends though riled, had no way to catch a fleeing horse. Bryant was breathing hard and swaying in his saddle when he caught up with Allimer, who was delighted to see the crazy man alive. Who willingly risked such for a stranger?
Bryant refused to stop until well clear of the goblins and then allowed his wounds to be inspected and tended to. Allimer carried some elf balm that took away most of the pain and seemed nearly to heal the wounds. “Thank you,” said Bryant quietly.
Allimer laughed, “if you are determined to get yourself killed on my be
half the least I can do is aide in healing you. You look faint. Are you well?”
Bryant said weakly, “I have not eaten since before you found me upon the Road. I suppose I am faint with hunger.”
The truth was he had had little chance to eat and he had almost forgotten that in mortal form he yet had need of such. They ate a little and rested before pressing on. It was growing dark but the moon was full giving ample light and they had no wish to linger when the servants of the Enemy might be near. The sooner they reached the River the better. It was late in the night when they finally made camp. Allimer took the first watch though he knew not that Erian could easily have done that while he slept. Bryant tried to argue but was so worn with recent events that he nearly collapsed in dismounting and Allimer insisted he go straight to bed. Allimer was drifting to sleep at his post when Erian whinnied in alarm. Bryant was on his feet in a moment, sword bared. A stranger walked into their camp. He glanced at the man, dismissing him and then eyed the elf with a vicious light in his eyes saying, “well met my fine sir. Why have you taken up with this useless wanderer? The quest you have set yourself is a noble one and perhaps I can be of more use than he.”
Allimer said curiously, “and who might you be sir?”
The man said, “I am one of the King’s Messengers sent to aide those who wander upon this Road and bring them safely to its end; most especially I protect such noble pilgrims from the likes of charlatans and tricksters as your companion here certainly seems to me.”
Allimer eyed him suspiciously, “is this again a trick that I might lose my way and all my hope? This man has been a faithful companion and true friend all the weary way.”
The stranger said, “but has he? Has he not spoken in riddles and half truths and has he not acted strangely? Does he not have a clouded past and mysterious future? How is it he so easily escaped your father? How came he to lie fortuitously in the Road for you to find and take pity upon? Why has he not told you all?”
Allimer said, “his answers have contented me and I have sensed no falseness in him. Can you prove yourself to be what you say?”
Bryant watched carefully lest the Spy try something sinister against the boy but he would not interfere in what seemed another test of the lad‘s resolve. The Spy said, “pierce me with your blade and see if it kills me, for are not the Messengers blessed with unending life?”
The boy was wide-eyed and looked to Bryant who said, “do what you feel you must.”
The boy did as the Spy asked and was astonished to see him flinch slightly in pain but otherwise he took no harm. Allimer sheathed his blade and said, “all you have proved is that you cannot be killed by common means, which might be a trait of the Messengers but I know it also a trait of the servants of evil. Have you no other proof?”
The man said, “what does your heart tell you? Do you trust me or this hooligan and recluse who has certainly deceived you for reasons of his own?”
Allimer said quietly, “I do not like the feeling of you sir and I think you twist the truth to fit your own purposes. I will continue on with my friend.”
The man screeched like some awful bird and said, “you shall continue with me or die!” Bryant leapt upon the boy and pushed him to the ground as a gout of flame engulfed the place where he had stood. “You dare interfere with me fool?” scowled the enraged Spy, “you shall learn the folly of your ways.” He raised his hand to cast another foul spell but Bryant gave him no chance and ran him through with his sword. The man dissolved into a black mist that quickly faded away.
Allimer stood and said, “I thank you for your aide, but the man’s words make me wonder more of you, my curious companion.”
Bryant said, “since we are both awake, let us take to the Road again, the sooner to end this journey. I have told you that which I can, more must wait until a later time. If you no longer trust me by all means send me away and I shall trouble you no longer.”
The boy laughed, “you have saved my life times beyond count and I will not treat you so ill just because I am impatient. I am content to learn more when the proper time is come.”
They mounted and were soon upon the Road. The final leg of their journey was much as Bryant remembered it: desolate, wearisome, and full of deprivation. The elf had a stronger constitution than his human companion and the way was much longer as a result. Allimer eyed Bryant with worry as their water and food failed but Bryant refused to slow their pace even though he swayed in his saddle. Allimer’s horse was stumbling with weariness and thirst but Erian was little affected. Finally a morning came when Bryant fell from his saddle and could not rise. Allimer was about to rush to his side when the shriek of a griffin broke the silence. He landed and eyed the two bipeds as if they were mice. He said, “it is time for you to tread this path alone. I will see to your companion.”
Allimer said, “I cannot leave him so!”
The griffin shook his great head and said, “think you that I would not have killed you both already had I the will? You have a journey to finish and your friend can go on no longer, neither are you allowed company on the final leg of your journey. Finish that which you have begun or go home!” Allimer nodded, mounted his terrified and weary horse, and continued on his way. The griffin took up the unconscious form and was soon aloft with Erian following protectively after.
The griffin easily followed the course of the Road, overtaking and passing Allimer unseen. The boy had a few last trials to pass before the end of his journey. The griffin and Erian watched closely that no traps of the Enemy lay in wait. The way seemed safe and they alighted beside the River. The griffin said grimly, “his life is failing but the River can restore him. He will know what he must accomplish here when he wakens. I shall attend to the boy’s path and see that none come upon him unawares. Farewell.” Erian whinnied his thanks, nudged gently at Bryant, but received no response. With no hands to bring water to the man, Erian brought the man to the River. He took the man’s collar in his teeth and drug him the short distance to the water that flowed swift and clear. Erian plunged the man in and suddenly he came awake, spluttering in the cold and wet. He crawled to shore and lay breathing heavily for a moment and then looked to the amused Erian though concern was writ deep in his eyes. The Pegassi told what he knew. Bryant sat up slowly and pulled himself to drier ground. He shivered and Erian lay down beside him, draping a great wing over him to shield him from the bitter wind.
“What is it you must do here?” asked the Pegassi.
Bryant said, “one of the Messengers must be here when the boy finishes his journey and that duty has fallen to me.”
Erian turned his head and looked at his friend askance, “but you are still mortal!”
Bryant snorted a laugh, “and yet my duty remains. If you weary of me as a burden you can cross the River.”
Erian made a strangled sound at the suggestion and said, “what nonsense is this? You may be heavier than normal but I will not so easily abandon you.” Bryant smiled his thanks and fell into a deep sleep, warded by his faithful friend.
Morning was come when Erian nudged Bryant awake. He stood weakly and worked the cramps from his limbs. Just then Allimer came riding over the hill and looked with wonder at the great rent that was the Rift; then he looked with even more surprise upon the disheveled man that stood beside it. He slid from his horse and ran to embrace his chronically vanishing friend saying, “I feared you dead of exertion! What has come to pass? Am I finally come to the end of the journey?” He looked across the Rift at the glorious mountains and rolling hills of the Brightlands and asked, “is this truly the place where the Master dwells? How pleasant the hills to my eyes!”
Bryant said, “you have survived the Road and have come to its ending. The choice is now before you to cross the River and enter those fair lands or to continue on in this weary mortal sphere in service to your King, but in so doing you sever all ties that
bind you to the Grey Lands.”
Allimer said, “ah to set foot upon such beautiful soil, but I have come for a purpose and that pleasure must wait. But you have yet to tell me your tale.”
Bryant smiled weakly and said, “there is not much to tell. The griffin brought me here and the River restored what strength I have. Now what of you?”
The boy practically glowed, “I also would taste of this River but where does it flow?”
Bryant smiled broadly and said, “look again upon the Rift with eyes newly opened.” The boy did look and smiled for joy. Bryant said, “now if you are firm in your desire, taste of its water and plunge beneath its flow. But remember that sorrow, pain, and toil will haunt your labors if you choose this path.”
The boy nodded firmly and said, “I desire nothing else.” He promptly complied with Bryant’s words and found life anew. He found himself completely changed but his companion still stood a weary man in worn clothes.
He could now see Erian for what he truly was and a gasp of awe escaped his lips. A similar beast stood on the far side of the River, reared and screamed his joy, and easily leapt the flow to meet his new companion on the far side. The two were lost in greeting for a time while Bryant looked wistfully on. Erian nuzzled him companionably. Once the two had been properly introduced, Allimer happened to glance down at himself and finally noticed that his garb was as changed as he was. He turned with a puzzled expression to Bryant and asked, “who or what are you?”
Bryant laughed, “by now you have probably guessed that I have some affinity with the Messengers, but what I am sure you can hardly guess. My mind, my sword, and my mount are all as they should be but my body is mortal once more. When death takes me I shall be as you, but until then I am bound by all the constraints of mortality. The Enemy possesses a fell weapon with such strange capabilities.” With that he expounded his full tale and answered all the questions yet buzzing in the boy’s mind. He also told of many things that would aide him on his quest but there was too much to impart and some of it would have to come by experience.
The boy sat heavily upon the grass, seeming to feel the full weight placed upon his shoulders. Bryant laughed, “come lad, you have too much to learn to sit there and let the world pass you by. Besides, weariness is no longer a physical concern.”
Allimer laughed and stood, asking, “what shall we be about now?”
Bryant said, “you need to learn a few things ere I turn you loose, but much of it you have seen already having encountered Dreadlords, Spies, and Soldiers upon the Road. Listen to your own heart and the advice of your companion and you shall do very well. If ever you weary of this life, simply cross the River and find peace but know you cannot cross it again until the Last Day once you do. The Enemy may still try to turn your heart from the King and if he succeeds, you can never go back to Him; you will be forever lost to us. Come, it is time to try your hand at fighting some of our foes.”
Bryant’s blade was out and he had swung onto Erian’s back as he spoke, for a Dreadlord and six Soldiers were upon them. Allimer wasted no time in following Bryant’s lead and soon was consumed in a battle with the Soldiers. Bryant tried to fend off the Dreadlord, but it was relentless in its pursuit. It scoffed, “this time you will not succeed. You may have won your foolish elf but he is of little consequence. He may even barter his soul to spare you the torment that awaits whence I shall bear you.”
Bryant sighed heavily, “Ephod, can you not refrain from such evil? What have you against me?”
Ephod laughed, “I have everything against you. The only reason my master spared me the abyss after my last failure was for you! He thought it a great delight to torment you thus, as do I!” Whatever strange power the Dreadlords had to induce unwilling sleep he now laid upon Bryant who again lapsed into darkness as he had so long ago. Erian screamed but could do little against the fell thing that took a firm hold upon Bryant and swiftly bore him away.
Allimer was just finishing with the last of the Soldiers when he heard Erian’s heart-wrenching cry. He too saw what the fiend intended and made to ride after but Erian blocked his way, saying, “this matter is beyond both of us. We must do our duty no matter how it pains us and trust Bryant to the King’s mercy. You know already that which you must do and if you refuse or follow another path you will have forsaken your King and all for which you once fought.”
Allimer nodded grimly and said, “I will trust our Master and know in the end that all will be set aright. I must return to my father and people and tell that which I have seen.”
Erian said, “remember Bryant’s words, trust the Spirit within you, trust my kinsman, and you shall not fail. Farewell.” Erian took swiftly to the Road and vanished from sight, off on errands known only to himself and the King. Allimer’s own mount turned towards the Fairywood and their looming quest.
Bryant awoke with a throbbing head in the absolute dark. He could see nothing, but the cell felt damp, small, and stank of must, mold, and other unnamable thing. He heard a slight shifting to his left and asked, “who is there?”
He heard a weary laugh and a grizzled voice said, “awake are you? It would have been better had you died in your sleep.”
“Where am I and who are you?” asked Bryant.
The man said, “I am called Locke, or at least I was in brighter places where people still have names. In here we are less than rats; at least the rats are free. You are in the deepest, darkest dungeon in the great prison on the borders of the Infernal Realm. Congratulations, because few are despised enough by our jailers to ever descend so far. What did you do to incur such wrath on their part?”
Bryant said, “a man I once called friend found himself a Dreadlord and felt inclined to take vengeance as he saw it. What of you?”
The man said, “I am nothing half so interesting. I was a Wanderer in my day and I think they simply needed the room up above, for they moved me down here and I think they have forgotten about me.”
“What do we face in this place?” asked Bryant.
The man shrugged though none could see, “some are killed outright, others are tortured until they die or turn to the enemy, others are left in some dark corner to rot, which I think shall be our fate. I have been here many days and nothing ever changes except that occasionally they remember we will not long survive without food and water.”
Bryant said, “that seems kind of an anticlimactic ending. Am I to rot in this place for a hundred years?”
The Wanderer laughed, “unless they decide to kill you sooner or your health fails you, I suppose that you must.”
Bryant laughed, “who would ever think to welcome death?”
The Wanderer smiled, “those who serve the King do, for a brighter country awaits us thence. Only such a promise and the strength the King has leant me keeps me sane in such a place! But then they kill those who go mad, for there is no sense in tormenting one who is beyond reason.”
Suddenly pain erupted in their eyes as the door was flung open and light blinded them. Strong arms grabbed Bryant and drug him out into the painful though dim glare of torches. Ephod stood over him and scorned him, “that is what you have to look forward to for what remains of your natural life, save when they bring you out for a sound beating or some other little amusement. I have left careful orders that you are not to be killed so they will take the utmost care to see you live out your natural life. Your only consolation will be in that I may one day have a better use for the arrow and then I shall have you killed out of necessity. Of course you could bow before my master and spare yourself the agony.”
Bryant glowered, “do what you think you must but let us speak no more of my turning against the King.”
Ephod laughed, “a nice sentiment but we shall see how you fare after twenty years of such treatment.” They drug him away, wounded him in various ways, and then cast him back into the cell, but first they took out the
Wanderer and had him put to death for the simple reason that they wanted the fool to have not even the consolation of a companion in chains. There they left him alone in the dark to recover as he would from his wounds but they had overestimated his strength. After his journey, especially the last leg his strength had waned. The River had restored some of his vigor but the Dreadlord’s fell magic had sapped even that. He lay alone in the dark, lost in a delirium of fever.
They threw him food as they might a despised dog and occasionally remembered that he needed water as well, but Bryant was aware of none of these small amenities and was utterly lost to the dark. The Soldiers that tended the prisoner thought little of the untouched water and food save that they did not have to replace it. The Spy that oversaw this forsaken level of the prison noticed this one day and demanded that the prisoner be brought forth; he did not wish to face the Dreadlord’s wrath should the fool man die prematurely. The man was lugged out and at first all thought him dead, for so tragic was his state, but a feeble effort at breathing was finally observed. Life hung on but barely; knowing the peculiar state of this particular prisoner the Spy ordered him out of the prison.
If the man should die, the Spy might find himself with a Messenger loose in his prison and that was an infamy he dared not face his master with. Better to face the wrath of the Dreadlord than their vile master. The Soldiers did as they were bidden and drug the moribund man to the verge of the desolate road that ran through those forsaken lands and there they left him to the whims of the scavengers and the weather, to die as he would. Day was hardly a faint glimmer of pale light in those lands and evening was fast approaching as the Soldiers abandoned the seeming corpse and scuttled back to their posts. A furtive figure watched from the cover of some stark boulders until the fiends were well out of sight and then crept towards the prone form. The figure glanced around nervously, but seeing no one, knelt beside the dying man. She laid a hand to his cheek but it was cold as death. A single tear of pity glimmered in her eyes.
She gently raised his head and placed a small drop of some fragrant liquid upon his parched tongue, which in those wasted lands seemed a whole garden of flowers. His eyes fluttered open and he looked upon the piteous face of an elf maiden on the brink of tears. Suddenly there was the rush of hooves, a startled shriek, and the evil laugh that Bryant knew belonged to none but Ephod. The Dreadlord had been watching the dying man and at the proper moment, had pounced upon the distracted girl, sweeping her into the saddle of his fell beast and riding like the wind to the lands of her father the elf king. Bryant’s head fell to the ground as she was borne away, for he had not the strength to hold it aloft; bitter tears stung his eyes to think what plots might now engulf that poor creature.
“Are you just going to lie there?” came a familiar voice. For the first time in what seemed decades, a smile crossed Bryant’s face as hope stirred within him. With all his might he strained and finally rolled himself onto his belly. Erian towered over him with concern large in his eyes.
Bryant tried to speak and finally a sound came, as if the echo of some weak wind whistling through caverns deep within the earth, “I cannot stand.” Erian nodded grimly, lay down beside his prone friend, and patiently waited while the man laboriously pulled himself onto the great back.
He turned gentle eyes upon his rider and said, “can you hang on?”
Bryant tried to laugh but only provoked a cough but croaked, “yes.”
Erian nodded and set off at the fastest pace that his stricken rider could manage. The elf’s liquor had saved him from the brink of death but he was yet hardly fit to be considered alive. He prayed desperately that they reach the girl before some ill fate befell her and all her people. They trotted on but Ephod had a terrible lead and at this rate would be well finished with his plot ere they arrived. Bryant wondered what he could do about the situation when they reached their destination. He could do little but cling desperately to the back of his friend. Things would be far easier if he had been allowed simply to die but that time had not yet come so he clung on and prayed, for it was all he had strength left to do.
Erian stopped briefly some hours into their flight to allow Bryant to drink from the first stream they had come upon, but both grudged even those few minutes until they were moving once more. Bryant lapsed in and out of a restless sleep. For days they rode on, only stopping occasionally to quench Bryant’s thirst but there was nothing to sate his hunger. Gradually a little strength returned and he was able to at least sit upright as he rode rather than cling like a frightened cat to Erian’s great back. Only then did he notice that he had no weapons about him for somewhere his sword had been lost or confiscated. He laughed weakly, this fight was sure to be a short one but they could not abandon the chase for so pithy a reason as that. If they did not go who would? On they rode until finally the elf country rolled on before them in endless miles of wild forest. Hardly had they crossed the border when several voices shouted, “halt or die mortals!”
Erian turned his head questioningly and Bryant violently shook his head; they had no time to fiddle with incredulous border guards. Erian increased his pace hoping to leave the warriors far behind but it was too late. Bowstrings snapped in the morning mist and took Bryant in the chest. Erian turned with a scream to stand over his fallen friend, glaring balefully at their assailants who crept cautiously towards their wounded foe. Two arrows protruded from his chest and the fall from a height had not aided his already precarious situation and the darkness was immediately upon him. He knew he was dying and yet lay fading in that forest dell but he also knew himself to be standing knee deep in the River, looking across to the Brightlands where peace and rest called to him. He turned to look back to the near shore where grief, sorrow, and pain lingered still. He could go or he could stay. His heart yearned for that radiant country but he could not yet abandon the quest he had begun and for which he had suffered so much.
He withdrew from the River and returned to the mortal shore and immediately a great light engulfed him. He was again laying in the clearing but no more was he upon the point of death. Life or something greater flooded his being once more and he felt his sword in his hand. The three elves gasped as they watched the ragged corpse draw one last shuddering breath and then suddenly it stood, glowing like the sun. They had taken a fright at the Dreadlord crossing their lands with the princess a captive and were determined to let no one else escape them thus, but this aberration was too much and they fled into the woods. Erian nuzzled his friend warmly and the man threw his arms around the great neck whispering, “thank you.”
Erian laughed, “it is good to have you back.”
Wasting no time, for now they could move swifter than the seconds and the hours, they were soon off faster than mortal thought. The Dreadlord had gained days and miles upon them, but now they could easily catch him. Cloaked once more as a plain man and common horse they rode on and heeded none that tried to stop them though arrows, spears, and swords pierced them through. The disappointed warriors followed after as swiftly as they could. They came to the great city of the Fairyfolk to find the gates held against them but it hindered them not. They ran silently through the deserted streets and came to the castle and easily entered the courtyard where stood the king and the Dreadlord with his hostage. All three along with the gathered Fairyfolk gasped to see who the intruder was.
Ephod growled, “can you never leave well enough alone? Come a step closer and the girl dies! Be gone, this is not your affair.”
The king scoffed, “you took my son and now you will destroy my daughter too? You have much nerve to come back to my lands after such betrayal!”
The girl wept, “father condemn him not! It was I that ran away after hearing Allimer’s words; I went to find that which he had found and in a sere and desolate land came upon a dying man upon whom I took pity only to be taken by this fell creature.”
The king growled, “but
for him my kingdom would yet be at peace, not turned on its head by my fool son and a common dog turned preacher! My folk have never known such confusion in all the days we have dwelt here. I should have killed you when last we met boy, now that fate is assured. What of my daughter, vile servant of the Enemy?”
The Dreadlord laughed, “I will have her as wife and take your place as king to rule all your lands and folk. As a wedding gift you shall give me the head of the Wanderer who causes such discord among your people.”
The king was aghast, “I will gladly give you the traitor to my people but I cannot give you my daughter or my throne!”
Ephod laughed cruelly, “then she dies.”
The king paled, for he loved his daughter greatly. He looked on the verge of submitting when the girl nearly shrieked, “no father! I would rather die than be so bound to such a creature and to see our people thus enslaved!”
The king wept, “but death is not the proper province of our people! You should live on ‘til time’s end!”
Her smile was radiant as the new risen sun, “and so I shall and even beyond but not in these lands of sorrow and woe. I am bound for a brighter shore one day, perhaps today, but do not make such a vow!”
The king was greatly troubled, “you too have been corrupted by this nonsense? What am I to do with you child?”
She said a little sadly, “that which you must but forsake not the True King else we shall truly be ever sundered!”
Ephod glowered, “such a wretch is not worthy of the offer I have granted it.”
The girl gasped and then slumped momentarily as the Dreadlord drove his dagger into her heart but no sooner had her eyes glazed in death than she raised her head and spoke in a voice like one asleep, “father, do as he says and all will be well.” Bryant watched silently, knowing his interference would not aide the situation but seeing the girl slain, he drew his sword and Erian pressed towards the Dreadlord on his fell beast. The king watched in horror as his daughter was thrown to the ground like a lifeless doll and Ephod drew his own sword and turned his mount towards Erian.
The combatants circled, struck, and blocked until finally Bryant’s blade took Ephod in the chest but before he fell to dust his own blade took Bryant full in the neck. The Dreadlord and his mount fell to dust that blew away on the wind and Bryant vanished in a flash of silvery light. The king and all his court sat aghast in horror and relief. The king stood as an aged man and slowly made his way to the prone form of his only daughter, at whose side he knelt in grief. He turned wrathful eyes upon Erian and said, “you have betrayed us all! You were to bear that wretched boy far from here, never to return. My daughter lived until the fiend made to interfere!”
Erian said patiently, “you saw as well as I that the Dreadlord took her life well before that.”
The king scoffed, “but she spoke and all would have been well!”
Erian shook his head, “her spirit had fled and nothing but her mortal shell remained and that the Dreadlord used as a puppet! It was not your daughter that spoke thus but her killer. You would have subjected your people to such slavery for nothing!”
The king sighed, “at least your vile friend and the Dreadlord destroyed one another.”
Erian snorted, “such as they cannot die as mortals can! The Dreadlord’s fell master might cast him forever into the abyss and Bryant may choose to cross the River but until then both shall continue the battle that has been begun, perhaps until time itself ends. Do not reject the last words of your dear child, for they are the truth and can bring joy from much grief! Do not waste this, perhaps your last chance, that your people might have to turn to the King ere they rue it for all eternity.”
The king gave Erian a dark look and said, “this is not finished between us. Someone must suffer for this day and it looks to be you.”
Erian reared and spread his great wings in fury, glowing as if the setting sun stood at his back. He said grimly, “heed well the warning given.” He vanished with all the speed of his kind back to the River to collect his ever errant friend.
The guards that had come to capture the Pegassi gaped at one another and the king in astonishment. The king wept bitterly over his daughter and word quickly spread of the strange encounter among all the Fairyfolk. Feledon, who had been for some months abroad among his own folk again, wondered at the tale and soon folk were flocking to hear that which he had to say. The king sent men to destroy him, but ever did he somehow avoid capture for the allotted time he was allowed among his people that all might hear. Finally he was taken and cast deep into the dungeons but on dark nights when the king was alone and brooding he sometimes had him brought forth and listened quietly to that which the boy had to tell before growing angry and casting him again into the darkness. Many were the folk who heard his words ere he was captured and of these many believed much to the anger of the king and all their kin. They set forth for the River, hoping to find the peace of which Feledon had spoken, for now they were outcasts and exiles among their own people. This great emigration angered the king even more so that he finally had the boy executed, which did little to sate his wrath upon which he brooded constantly in the dark watches of the night until his heart was as hard as a diamond but unlike the jewel, it never cast back the light that shone upon it.
Bryant woke on the shore of the River where the water played with the toe of one submerged boot. Erian stood patiently by but did not heed his friend, for his attention was focused on a great throng of the Fairyfolk that emerged from the woods as Bryant stood. They had come seeking the River and the Haven upon the far shore but saw only far mountains and a fair country across the great Rift. They saw the man and the horse upon its brink and thought them no more than what they could see. Said the boldest of the company to the stranger, “tell us man, the way to the River if you know it. We are exiles from our own country and flee the wrath of our king and kinsmen. We were told of a fair land that could be our own if only we trust its King. We have abandoned all in that pursuit and have come in sight of our home but can find no way to reach it.”
Bryant said, “I thought all your folk could cross the River at the time of their choosing if only they turned to the King?”
The bold elf nodded, “such was our understanding, at least for those whom death does not court. The lesser kindreds I suppose must pass that door. Must the rest of us wait until time itself fails?”
Bryant said, “perhaps there is purpose in your exile? You will certainly enter that country one day if you remain true but perhaps now is not the time. Much was risked and suffered to bring word of such blessings to you and such favor would be ill repaid simply by flight from danger into eternal bliss. Take heart and serve your King! The whole world trembles under the threat of despair and darkness but you can bear light into all lands and speak that which you know, and after you will come into your own country as faithful servants rather than desperate refugees. Let others take joy in what you yourselves have discovered.”
The fairyfolk suddenly began speaking amongst themselves eagerly and then after a time the leader said, “you speak truly and wisely sir! We shall pass on to others that which has drawn us out of darkness that others might also live in the light. We cannot return to our own lands but all the lands of men are open to us. We shall do as you say.” With that, they turned with one accord and set out upon the Road that suddenly lay before them and which would bear one here and another there until there were such wanderers in all lands speaking to all the children of men with ears to hear.
“Nicely spoken,” said Jonin as he joined Bryant upon the shore.
Bryant laughed, “the words were not my own.”
Jonin laughed, “certainly not, for we are but servants who can only speak and do those things the Master appoints to us.”
Bryant asked, “why do I feel as if a great shift is about to take place; as if all we once knew will no longer be as it was?”
Jonin said quietly, “because the Last Day is nigh. All will have a little longer to decide what to do with the King; they shall have at least one more chance to hear. The Enemy shall stir and things shall grow dark upon the earth. Then the Son himself will ride forth with all his servants behind him to give the Enemy his final defeat and put the world aright. Woe then to all who do not revere the King for they shall be cast aside into the unending dark with the Enemy himself. Come, we have much work to be about before then, for still we must counter the plots of the Enemy.” They exchanged a smile and rode off into the growing evening of time.
The Greylands: Volume VI
By: Susan Skylark
Copyright 2014 Susan Skylark
Author’s note: each story is unique to itself and not related in any way to any other story, character, or world in this or any other series.
The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 89