Valley of the Shadow

by Michael Gardner

  “Yes.”

  “At last,” said Raven, clapping his hands together, “you’ve answered a question.”

  “I told you it has been a long time since I’ve had a chance to practice the art of conversation. If you wish to know where we are, look again into the darkness, but not with your physical eyes, for you have none.” The voice deepened to a gravelly whisper. “Reach out and touch it with your mind.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Just do it!”

  Raven squeezed his eyes shut, not that it made any difference in this void.

  “Do you see?” asked the voice in a mixture of hope and impatience.

  “Ah... no,” Raven replied.

  The voice drifted back and forth as if it were circling Raven. “Have you never died, Khryseoi? Have you never experienced the gift you were given? Have you never tasted what it is to return from death?”

  Raven’s arm shot out but there was nothing to grab. “That’s three questions, but the answer to each is ‘no.’ ”

  “Then you have lived well, Khryseoi, to have survived so many years without coming to this place,” said the voice, with a soft chuckle. “This is the Valley of the Shadow, the place between life and death, as you understand those states of existence. You must take great care lest you become lost here forever.”

  Raven rose to his feet, daring to peek from one eye. The Valley remained blanketed in darkness. “Lived well? Perhaps.”

  “Until... the beach.”

  Raven hesitated. Had he mentioned the beach? It was as if the incident had taken place a long time ago.

  “You needn’t worry, Khryseoi, I don’t care to know your business. I’m simply curious to know why you don’t move on as the other Khryseoi do. Didn’t Phylasso teach you to hear the earth’s song, to answer Her call?”

  Raven pursed his lips. “It would appear I’m a poor student.”

  The man grunted with amusement. “What about your fellows? Have they spoken of this place, told you about the wonders of the Valley?”

  Raven shrugged. “They spoke of a dreamless sleep following death, before awakening as a child. No one spoke of a valley... or of meeting and conversing with an irritable spirit. I wonder why I’ve been so fortunate?” Raven began to wonder if the spirit or the Valley of the Shadow were real. The Khryseoi were known to have powerful dreams. Perhaps they were also capable of dreaming between lifetimes. “Why is the Valley cloaked in perpetual darkness?”

  “Why do you persist in asking foolish questions? It wouldn’t be named ‘Valley of the Shadow’ if it were bathed in golden sunlight!” The voice let out a long sigh. “Ah, I understand now! Phylasso has blinded you to the worlds beyond your own. He doesn’t want you to see them!”

  “Why would Phylasso do that?” scoffed Raven.

  “To protect you and the mortals he loves so much.”

  “From what?”

  “Temptation! A mortal man discovered it was possible to transcend his frail existence. His desire to be a god was the catalyst that started the war, but in his ignorance, he didn’t understand that the Gods have desires too. Specifically, that Eurynomos desired to escape his imprisonment in Tartarus.”

  “Speak plainly. I tire of these riddles.”

  The man huffed. “You were mortal once, yes? Phylasso was forced to grant The Thirty Thousand immortality. You did not earn it; you were given a gift. So, he blinds you to your power so you don’t succumb to temptation and make the same mistake.”

  Raven clenched his jaw. “I wouldn’t.”

  “You can’t,” said the man. “Just as you cannot see the Valley. Would you like to hear a full account of how the war began? Are you willing to open your mind to possibilities you never knew existed, the ones Phylasso has hidden from you?”

  “I know how the war began. Eurynomos was able to escape Tartarus. He found a way into our world and raised an army. Phylasso foresaw the event and created the Khryseoi to stop him.”

  The voice sighed. “Phylasso has neglected to give you a full account. Phylasso, the bastard son of Kronos, didn’t want you to be curious about the means of Eurynomos’s escape, or to begin to realise the potential in your gift. Yes, the Gods have desires too.”

  “Only he can answer those accusations.”

  The voice grunted with amusement. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll tell you the tale of Theophilos and Melinoë.”

  Raven looked at the darkness. It now seemed to come at him in waves. “It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere soon.”

  The voice drew a deep breath. “Long ago, Kronos, youngest and greatest of the twelve Titans, created the first race of mortal men. These people were content to live out their days in peace and prosperity and were blessed with a bountiful life free from toil and grief. Countless years they resided in Kronos’s care. People were good and noble. There were no laws as none were needed. It was a simple time, untainted by want, until the pride and folly of one man ended the eternal spring.

  “His name was Theophilos. His understanding of the Gods and their ways was unrivalled and he aspired to sit amongst them. Even though the first men were blessed with a lifespan of many hundreds of years, Theophilos detested the slow decay of his mortal flesh and the knowledge that one day his life would be snuffed out, his memory forgotten. Theophilos toiled in secret to find a doorway to heaven, and as his power and knowledge grew so did his desire to reside there. The all-seeing Gods watched Theophilos with interest, but they neither hindered his work, nor gave him aid. Theophilos interpreted their inaction as an affront, as if they believed him incapable of success.

  “The Gods in heaven were not alone in their observations of Theophilos. As he continued to experiment with ways to open a portal to the spirit world, Eurynomos the Foul, Lord of Maggots, and God of Death and Decay watched from his prison in Tartarus. Eurynomos licked his blackened lips and tasted the bitter sorrow he might inflict upon mortal men. He knew he could avenge himself upon the Gods by laying waste their most beloved creation. So, he conceived of a plan to exploit Theophilos and gain his freedom. Eurynomos had many servants, but for this task he chose Melinoë, who could travel to the mortal world as a spectre and seduce men to do her bidding. She was pale-skinned on one side of her body; a fair young maiden most pleasing to the eye. She was dark on the other; a shockingly disfigured hag, so terrible the fear of her would bring on nightmares and madness.”

  Raven cleared his throat. “A few Khryseoi have attempted to spirit walk, to exist for a time without a body. Each returned from the ritual in a coma, and soon after died, their link to the earth broken as if they had been unbound,” said Raven. “How did she come to possess such power?”

  “I am simply relating a tale.”

  “It’s a fair question,” said Raven before his unseen companion could continue.

  “I imagine travelling as a spectre wasn’t without risk. We are all vulnerable beings, whether we are clothed in skin or otherwise.”

  Raven shivered. The scratching sounds in the distance were beginning to play tricks on his mind. “Go on!”

  “Melinoë, travelling as a vulnerable spirit, watched Theophilos work and carefully faced him with the darkened half of her body, so she would remain invisible in the laboratory’s shadows. Once she had studied the scope of his experiments, she told her master of what she had found. Eurynomos was pleased and set his plan in motion.

  “The following night Melinoë appeared to Theophilos, facing him for the first time with her pale side. He was captivated by her beauty and honeyed voice. She told him he had earned the right to sit amongst the Gods. Theophilos was captivated and hung on her every word without question or fear of deception. She guided his studies and soon he discovered a way to speak words of power.”

  “Why didn’t Melinoë teach him the words of power?”

  The man sighed again. “Phylasso has kept you all so ignorant! Words of power are unique to every living being. They cannot be taught; they must be discovered and that is
a long and arduous journey.”

  “Please continue your tale,” said Raven, not wanting to upset his companion further.

  “Theophilos uttered his first word of power and glimpsed a valley veiled in shadow. In his heart he knew the valley lay beyond the mortal world.” The voice paused. “He glimpsed this place, Khryseoi, and saw what you cannot.”

  “I understand now,” said Raven.

  “Theophilos, wisest of fools, found new determination to show the Gods his potential. ‘I will make them regret their indifference,’ he said. Melinoë caressed his head, kissed him on the cheek and said, ‘Open the door without delay, my sweet!’ Without fear, Theophilos spoke the second word of power. He reached out and touching the intangible barrier that had eluded him for so long, pulled it apart. A rift, laden with storm clouds bathed in moonlight, appeared before him. It was wondrous to behold! For a brief moment, Theophilos experienced what it was like to be a god, but there his taste of divinity ended. The passage did not lead to heaven, but straight to Tartarus, where Eurynomos waited.” The voice drew a long breath. “I believe you know the rest.”

  “What became of Theophilos?” said Raven.

  “He was given immortality, but not as he desired. He’ll be eternally remembered as Theophilos the Tormented, First of The Forsaken, The Betrayer of Men. A magnificent title, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Raven chewed his lip in silence.

  “But you... you were given this gift, the power to travel from life to death and back again without risk. On one hand, you’ve been blessed, but on the other, Phylasso has denied you the opportunity to learn this power for yourself. Wouldn’t you like to ask him why?”

  “Yes, but not right now.”

  “Then enjoy your gift, Khryseoi, for as long as it lasts.”

  Raven felt his jaw tighten. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Everything changes eventually,” said the voice, in a wistful tone. “Now, it’s time for you to return to your world.”

  “I don’t know how to leave this place.”

  “There is a way.”

  “Can you show me?”

  “It seems I must.”

  Raven bowed his head, for whatever good the gesture might have in a place where nothing could be seen. “Thank you, good shepherd.”

  “I am neither good nor a shepherd, but I shall be your guide,” said the voice. Raven felt a strong hand grasp his wrist and with a rough tug he was compelled to follow. “Remain vigilant. The Valley tries to mislead your every step.”

  “You speak as if this place is alive,” said Raven, stumbling after his sure-footed guide.

  “Indeed!” The pace was increased and Raven was forced into an ungainly trot.

  “What should I call you?” gasped Raven.

  “You may call me ‘Guide’. It’s an adequate name for this place. You must never speak your true name here, unless you wish to reside with the dead forever.”

  Raven concentrated on his footfalls. Gnarled roots bumped and scraped his feet, or perhaps they were fingers, grabbing at his ankles to make him trip and fall. He stumbled on, at the mercy of the hand tugging at his wrist. He concentrated on listening instead of trying to see. In the distance, he heard glugs of thick, gloopy liquid, moving slowly across the Valley. “I hear a river. Perhaps we should follow it.”

  “No. The river is treacherous and must be avoided. There’s no return, even for those who dare to wade in far enough to wash their feet.”

  Raven tripped and stumbled several times as they ran. Each time, Guide pulled him to his feet and urged him onward.

  “Can we stop to rest?” wheezed Raven, finding it harder to breathe.

  “Keep going, Khryseoi,” said Guide. “You don’t possess a mortal body and therefore have no need of rest.”

  “I... there’s... no... air...”

  They ran on. Raven gasped as he stumbled, trying to keep up. Guide drove them onward without mercy. Eventually, he slowed down and stopped. Raven felt the hand leave his wrist. He fell into a heap, his chest gurgling as if his lungs were filled with water.

  “Hush now,” said Guide, like an unsympathetic parent. “You must not resist. This is the only way.”

  Instead of feeling his breath settle, the air was forced from Raven’s chest as if he were being crushed by snakes. Still blind, he felt the Valley collapse and shrink around him, squeezing him harder with every effort he made to draw air. Guide continued to speak, but the words became distant, overpowered by the sounds of rushing wind and water until his words were lost. No air remained. The pressure intensified around Raven’s body, squeezing and pushing, and he heard the pounding of a drum.

  In an instant, the torment ceased. He heard a baby draw its first breath and bellow as it was released. As he drew his second breath, Raven realised the baby’s voice was his own.

  ~ Chapter 4 ~

  Aetolia (Eastern Ancient Greece)

  288 BC (two hundred years later)

  Raven’s new parents named him Pythes and he soon learnt to respond to it, but he felt like an impostor. Infancy was a disorientating experience. After centuries of having his body perform at will, he now couldn’t see properly and was constantly hungry and tired. He had been used to being able to stay awake for days at a time but now, sleep was irresistible. He wondered how the other Khryseoi had coped being born into a helpless body, while retaining all their memories of former lives.

  He remembered how quickly Khryseoi children had grown during the war, becoming adults again by the time they were eight. His body didn’t do this. In waking hours he tried to pull himself upright, to stand and walk, but his arms and legs were too weak. Unable to understand why Khryseoi were required to relive childhood, he resigned himself to his helpless condition. It gave him the opportunity to think, so he did.

  He recalled the voice he’d heard while standing next to the scar on the earth where Eurynomos’s fortress had once stood:

  The war isn’t over. Many of his servants remain. They are weak, but will re-emerge in time, more determined to free their master. If they succeed, Eurynomos will lay the world in ruins. You must be vigilant and prepare for their coming. Raven, you are...

  He’d wondered what the voice would have said if it had been able to finish. Now, the answer seemed to be: a powerless infant. Acabar had taken sixteen hundred years to appear, but he had proved he was no longer weak. Raven’s stomach twinged sharply at the memory of the violent epiphaneia he’d experienced when they had met. Acabar was the strongest enemy Raven had ever encountered, probably raised high up in Eurynomos’s ranks to lead a resurgence of the war. Raven felt certain that Acabar wasn’t acting alone, or that he had defeated him at the Isthmus of Corinth. Like the Khryseoi, Eurynomos’s dark spirits were not easily unbound. Raven kicked his arms and legs in frustration. While he was trapped in an infant’s body, there was no telling what havoc Acabar could wreak. Acabar had made it clear he was willing to involve mortals to lure the Khryseoi into the open.

  In Raven’s hasty pursuit of Acabar, he hadn’t stopped to analyse Wolf’s involvement, or consider the comments the Greek soldier Olus had made about Wolf’s capture.

  “What did they question him about?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Perhaps Olus had been mistaken. Other than being Khryseoi, Raven had played no great part in the war, hadn’t held any position of importance, or been responsible for any decisive action. He had been a bowman, supporting the front lines by picking off the enemy with his arrows. The more Raven thought about the war the faster he wanted to grow up. He had to stop Acabar for good, before the dark spirit could find a way to release his master. No Khryseoi possessed Phylasso’s foresight, so if Eurynomos were able to be freed, it would happen without warning with no chance to isolate him. Eurynomos would have his revenge on the Gods, and the world would become a graveyard.

  * * *

  The first challenge Raven had was rememberi
ng how to live as mortals did. He knew he would have to hide his gifts, to appear normal, even though he had no idea what that was after centuries of being Khryseoi.

  As soon as his helpless infancy passed, Raven set about finding out where he was and how much time had passed since his last life. His new parents, Basileios and Charis, took him everywhere, and while he couldn’t see very well, he could overhear conversations he wouldn’t be expected to understand. It took him some time to decrypt the Locrian calendar they used, but once he had married it to the Delphic system, he was certain at least two hundred years had passed since his encounter with Acabar at the Isthmus of Corinth.

  He bunched his tiny fingers. Now he had another mystery to solve. During the war, the Khryseoi had been reborn close to Illyria and always immediately after their deaths. Their absences had often gone unnoticed, unless they had been unbound. Now, Raven was many leagues from Illyria and two centuries had passed. It seemed like Phylasso’s gift was changing in some way. If that were the case, what hope did he have of stopping Acabar? Raven decided he would have to try to contact Phylasso and begin his hunt for Acabar. There was much for him to do... as soon as he could walk.

  He decided to flee his life with mortals as soon as he was strong enough to survive alone in the wild. His home in Amphissa was a three week journey north to The Watcher’s Tower. Lilya was a shaman who had cared for Khryseoi children during the war. Raven had visited her many times over the years, bringing her exotic trinkets he had found on his travels. In her company, he could be himself, and she would let him stay with her while he grew into a man. He would need the help of many Khryseoi against Acabar. He wondered if he and Lilya could seek Solomon together. Of all the Khryseoi, Solomon had been closest to Phylasso, and his understanding of their gifts had been unrivalled. He’d walked at Phylasso’s side when the Khryseoi had crossed the Riven Plains, and he’d fought in the battle they’d believed had ended the war.

  In the back of Raven’s mind was another urge; to return to the Isthmus of Corinth where he’d fought Acabar. It was the place of his first death and he felt certain there was something there he was yet to find.