Valley of the Shadow

by Michael Gardner

  “Our gifts are magical. Perhaps you’ve learnt to use them another way.”

  They’re the abilities of a higher level and understanding of life, but call them ‘magic’ if that term suits you better! Tak pierced a coconut with a pointed stone and poured the juice into two cups. Handing one to Raven, he took a sip and reclined against a broad root, his bald head glistening in the firelight. I have spent many years pondering Phylasso’s gifts to us...

  “Yes?”

  Tak closed his eyes. I concluded he must be very wise indeed.

  “Well, I’m no wiser,” said Raven, taking a sip of the sweet nutty juice.

  It takes many years to understand the complex nature of a single tree, a fish, or a tiger. I didn’t use magic to ward the tiger off that day. I simply told it you weren’t good to eat and that it should find a meal elsewhere.

  “Many people would call that magic.”

  The beings we call Gods have an understanding of life which transcends flesh. Tak rested his cup on the woven floor and slapped both hands against his bare chest. We were given this magic. We didn’t earn it. That is why its nature remains a mystery to us, why we cannot wield it like Phylasso.

  “Are you suggesting if we learn to use this power, we will become Gods too?”

  Tak shook his head softly. Perhaps you should remember that one man’s desire for Godly power is the reason you’re sitting in a forest under a tree, digesting fish.

  “You’re talking about Theophilos?” said Raven. “The man who allowed Eurynomos to enter our world?” Tak nodded. “I’d never heard the tale until... where did you hear it?”

  Phylasso told me many tales in my youth. He told me Theophilos’s story before it happened.

  “More talk of magic,” said Raven, shaking his head. “If Phylasso knew, why didn’t he stop Theophilos?”

  I asked him. He said, ‘Some events are predestined and even the Gods don’t try to prevent them.’

  Raven nodded. “Just like Phylasso to give a cryptic answer to a question!”

  Phylasso meant that the full nature of this predestination was a mystery to him too. Yes, his father was Kronos but his mother was the mortal woman Adrasteia. He is half-Titan and also learning the nature of his gifts. His parentage is also the reason the Gods will not involve themselves in the war.

  “Do the Gods care about such matters as parentage?”

  Oh yes! They are not so unlike us as you might think. They fear Eurynomos but will not support a bastard child of Kronos. Phylasso is a significant challenge to the throne on Olympus.

  “We need the Gods to help us, not for them to quarrel amongst themselves.”

  I agree, but we have to accept we have no voice in the matter. It is the same for Phylasso. He cannot challenge the Gods and also defend humankind. He put us first.

  “So... we stand alone!”

  Tak nodded. He finished his juice with one gulp and lay down on his mat. Sleep, Raven! Tomorrow we must leave this place.

  “Where are we going?”

  To join Xi, Klinge and Windsong as you wished.

  “I thought you wanted to stay here and be alone.”

  Tak leaned across and took Acabar’s sword from Raven’s side. He slowly drew the weapon from its scabbard, examining every detail of the blade as if he sought an imperfection. He turned it back and forth, watching the firelight catch against its edge. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Tak returned the sword to its scabbard and handed it back to Raven. Some events are destined and even the Gods don’t have the power to stop them from happening.

  * * *

  Tak watched the fire until he was certain Raven was asleep. He noticed Raven slept deeply now, not at the brink of waking as the Khryseoi had done during the war. Rolling from the edge of the woven floor, he felt the cool, moist forest litter beneath his feet. He glanced back as Raven stirred and rolled over. Crouching next to one of the thicker tree roots, Tak brushed the soil aside to uncover a rectangular box carved from dark wood. He held it up to the firelight and opened the lid. Inside, next to his dimpled and shrivelled tongue, was the handle of a black sword with a finger length of broken blade. Tak ran his fingertips across its edge, feeling it catch the grain of his skin. Now he had handled Acabar’s sword and the fragment in his box, he knew them for the same weapon.

  ~ Chapter 11 ~

  The Watcher’s Tower (The Arcananian Border between Ancient Greece and Illyria)

  257 BC

  With a short, sharp hammer strike, the melting pot broke. Klinge smiled as he separated the metal flakes from the slag. He thought about tomorrow’s work: lighting the fire pit, grading the metal and hammering the alloy until his arm was sore. He drank a pitcher of water and let it spill down his face and front. The day had been hot, the kiln hotter. He looked at the fire pit and scratched his dripping beard. Heat. He needed more heat. His preparation methods were flawless. His hammer work was superb. The problem lay in the metal itself. He hadn’t achieved the right degree of purity or he was working with the wrong alloy. The embers in the fire pit pulsed, a fiery heart beating in the black of night. Klinge yawned. He was determined to unravel the mystery, one sword at a time. It would have to wait till the morning. Too tired to wash, he fell onto his bed and into a deep sleep.

  Before the sun rose, he woke with a start. He saw a small limestone tower on a cliff above the sea as vividly as if he were there, although his eyes were still closed. It had been a long time since he’d seen it and the structure had changed in parts, but he would never forget the sight of The Watcher’s Tower. He sensed emptiness, the absence of the soul who belonged there. The Tower was just a building now, succumbing to age and the elements but he understood the significance of the vision. It was time for the gathering, the first reunion of Khryseoi since the war.

  He rushed around his house, tidying his possessions away in preparation for a long journey. He doused the hearth, checked his preserving jars were sealed tight and closed the curtains. As he collected the filaments of metals he’d refined to sort them into pots, he realised his actions were futile. With a sigh, he emptied them into the still potent fire pit. Looking around his home and smithy, he saw stones, wood and thatching. It was also just a collection of materials and would be empty when he abandoned it. He strapped on his belt and slid his favourite sword into its scabbard. He’d improved the steel’s strength after seeing his last sword shattered by Acabar’s blade and had no desire to test this sword in the same manner. He needed a reliable weapon if the servants of Eurynomos had returned to roam the earth, not a mere hilt at his hip. Shuddering at the thought, he felt a longing for the taste of wine. He grabbed his purse and a travelling cloak and set out without closing his door.

  The green mountains and valleys of Noricum gave way to the red-gold soil of Northern Greece. Approaching The Watcher’s Tower, he smelled the sea and felt the comforting warmth of the epiphaneia. It was like sitting by a roaring fire on a cold Noricum night while snow fell outside. The feeling came into focus and he sensed the four Khryseoi who would be his companions. He saw the lonely stone tower as he reached the crest of the hill and thought it looked more like a gravestone now than a symbol of Khryseoi vigilance. Three men waited outside. Klinge recognised Raven among them, the only one who dared to wear a black chiton in the fierce summer heat. At his side stood a tall Austronesian wearing a bright sea blue chiton. The last was Xi, resting one arm on the hilt of his sword and waving with the other. Klinge took long strides on tired legs to meet them. He felt a breath of wind touch his arm and turned. A woman with skin as yellow as the long grass she stood in, bowed her head to him in greeting. Klinge took her gently by the shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. “Fair maiden, it is a pleasure to see you again! Raven has stressed the importance of our names, so please, how should I address you?”

  She lowered her gaze. “You may call me ‘Windsong.’ ”

  Klinge tried to read her expression but she was still looking down. “I like it,” he said. “Much prettier
than ‘Fourteen’ and it would be strange to call you ‘General’ after all this time.” She nodded. “I’m sure you didn’t choose this name by accident,” he continued. “The story sounds like it might be intriguing.”

  “I’d prefer not to tell it,” she said. “What shall I call you?”

  He squared his shoulders and dipped his head in a small bow. “Klinge, fair maiden, at your service!”

  She laughed. “I’m no maiden... and your edge needs sharpening.”

  Klinge ran his fingers through his hair. “Did we... um?” She took him by the arm and they walked up the hill in silence.

  “Raven, Xi, well met!” said Klinge, offering his hand. “Xi, I trust you’re happy with your new sword?”

  “It’s fast become my favourite. Can I place an order for two knives, a spear and a shield?”

  Klinge gave him an appreciative bow. He looked up at Kaha’i, who looked subdued in comparison to the jovial man he had known. “And lastly we have—?”

  “Tak,” said Raven. “We all have much to discuss, but for now, I will have to speak for Tak.” Tak gestured with his hands and opened his mouth to show the stump where his tongue used to be. Klinge pursed his lips in thought. “I’ll need some time to adjust, Tak. You used to be so talkative.” Tak responded with more gestures. Klinge had no idea what they meant, but he noticed Raven smile.

  * * *

  The five Khryseoi exchanged stories and spoke of their lives since seeing one another last, which for most of them had been in the final days of the war. Raven prepared a welcome feast of fish stew, slow roasted goat, wild greens and fresh baked flatbreads. They talked for many weeks, all the while learning to read Tak’s gestures. When they tired of conversation, Xi sparred with Klinge, Windsong meditated with Tak, and Raven went fishing. The white sandy beach and lapping waves were also old friends.

  Tak meditated by Lilya’s grave. He sat facing the horizon with his eyes closed, while the wind rippling his chiton made it look like the waves far below. Raven returned from fishing to find Tak asleep in the sun, snoring softly. He rubbed his fingers together and wiped his palms on his chiton before he spoke. “Well?” Tak stirred and took a slow breath. She’s gone.

  “I know,” he said. “I buried her. If you’d asked, I could have saved you three days of doing whatever it is you’ve been doing.” Tak’s face remained expressionless, as if he hadn’t yet woken from a deep sleep. She wasn’t the only one. In the time it has taken for the five of us to come together, more than a hundred Khryseoi have been unbound by dark spirits. Raven felt the blood drain from his face. He caught a faint, sour note of death on the breeze.

  “More than a hundred?”

  Fewer than half of the Khryseoi still live.

  Raven sat down and picked at his beard. “Can you sense Acabar?”

  Tak nodded. His presence, yes, but not exactly where. He could be near to us now or many leagues distant. A flock of gulls landed on the cliff’s edge, squabbling over a fish. One stole it from the owner’s beak and they were off again. Raven watched them circle and dive while he avoided the question that hung on his lips. Tak closed his eyes. Raven drew a deep breath.

  “And Phylasso? Can you sense Phylasso?” Tak remained still. “Is he dead?”

  Tak flicked his fingers. I don’t know.

  Raven stood and walked to the edge of the cliff. The afternoon sun, reflected on the waves, looked stretched and fragmented as if seen through a veil. He walked to the path winding down to the sea and followed it. Hot and breathless, he stripped off his chiton and plunged head first into the surf. The water was cool and invigorating. He stood up and spread his legs to balance himself against the tide. The sunlight stretched across the water, engulfing him in golden light. He cupped the water in his hands but could no more capture the light than he could, for long, hold the water. Closing his eyes and feeling the sun’s warmth on his face, he pictured Wolf and Lilya and spoke their names. He recited the names of as many fallen Khryseoi as he could remember. When he stopped, he wondered how Phylasso had been able to remember thirty thousand names without fail. He splashed his face and felt the salt sting his eyes. He swam back to the beach and collected driftwood while he dried. Carrying as much as he could manage, he began the slow climb back up the hill. His muscles burned with the strain of the burden. It felt good so he pushed them harder. He reached the top and dropped the bundle. Tak opened an eye. “Is there anything to be gained by remaining here?” Tak shook his head.

  While Tak built a fire, Raven watched the sun until it was an orange sliver disappearing beyond the edge of the sea. He mentally rehearsed explaining his plan but couldn’t find the right words. The sun set so he turned to watch the smouldering embers. Windsong appeared and sat down, followed by Klinge and Xi. They set bowls near the fire. She began to cook. Raven found the sight enchanting. She mixed fine flour with water to make dough and stretched noodles between her fingers. She added them to a pot of fish and seaweed soup and ladled out five portions. Klinge sniffed his bowl and wrinkled his nose.

  “Eat!” she said, with a noodle disappearing into her mouth like a long worm.

  Klinge sipped the broth and nodded. “It’s very good!”

  “I’ve had some experience in pleasing men’s stomachs.”

  Tak belched, held his fingers to his chin and lowered his hand down in an arc to present his palm. Windsong nodded appreciatively. Raven looked at each of them in turn as the firelight danced under their chins. “It’s time to act!”

  Xi placed his bowl at his feet and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We should regather all the remaining Khryseoi. We’re stronger together,” he said, raising his fist.

  Windsong looked at him, her chopsticks clacking as they came to rest against her empty bowl. “Have you considered that’s perhaps what Acabar wants us to do? We would draw considerable attention to ourselves.”

  Klinge nodded. “Imagine... a city built by the Khryseoi. That would be a sight to behold! Majestic towers, great statues, gardens of indescribable beauty... the pyramids would seem paltry by comparison! Ah, but the world has changed. Windsong is right. Mortals will covet what we have and try to take it from us. What would we do then? Fight those we are supposed to protect?”

  “The city could be built in secret,” said Xi.

  Klinge laughed. “A secret city? Where will you hide it? At the bottom of the sea?”

  There would be no need to water the gardens, added Tak. It’s a comforting thought. We are stronger together, but we lack the means to regather the Khryseoi. Only Phylasso has the power to bring us together.

  Raven teased the fire with a stick and added more wood. Fiery sprites leapt up from the embers. “We have two tasks,” he said. “Acabar operates from the shadows. With or without Phylasso, we must seek him out. We must also discover what has become of Phylasso and why he hasn’t returned.”

  Raven saw Klinge draw a deep breath and let it go. “Are you troubled?”

  Klinge shook his head. “No more than usual.”

  “You’re amongst friends.”

  Klinge cleared his throat. “I believe I have seen him... Phylasso... since the war.” He glanced at each of them in turn.

  “Why have you waited until now to speak of it?” said Raven.

  “It was brief. I woke one morning, he was there and we spoke.”

  Beyond the firelight, Raven saw Klinge’s cheeks colouring. “What did you talk about?”

  “Not much.”

  “Not much! Where were you when he appeared?”

  Klinge hung his head. “At a brothel. I’d spent the night with three mortal women.”

  “Had you been drinking?”

  Klinge’s face fell. “You remember me from those days, Raven. I regret mentioning it.”

  Tak laid his hand on Klinge’s shoulder. I’ve dreamed of Phylasso. We should count Klinge’s experience as a good omen.

  “Thank you, Tak,” said Klinge.

  There’s power in dreams. They’re an unconscio
us portal to Sight, a power we’ve all experienced in one way or another. I’ve spent a long time trying to better understand our gifts. I haven’t made much progress but this gives me hope.

  Xi clapped his hands to his knees, stood up and began to pace. The night was a black wall behind him. “Hope? Hope won’t save us from Acabar. Even if we can find him, how do you propose we stop him? More than a hundred Khryseoi have fallen since he has appeared. He has the advantage; knowledge of The Unbinding and of our true names.”

  No. He doesn’t yet possess the power to free his master or he would have done so already. The advantage is ours until that day comes.

  Raven saw the firelight flicker in Tak’s eyes. “Until? You speak as if you know this day will come!”

  A bad choice of gestures. We know this is Acabar’s goal.

  “It seems killing the Khryseoi is another,” said Xi.

  Only if he knows our true names. The bond of spirit and flesh was strongest as we came into being. The name we were given on our first lives remains the link to the time we were mortal. If we die and are claimed by Eurynomos as Forsaken, there is a chance he could acquire our names. How many of you have heard The Forsaken use words of power to evoke The Unbinding and speak your true names?

  Windsong turned to face the fire, although her gaze was distant. “I died twice during the war. My first body was inside the monstrous pile. When I was in its arms, it spoke my true name. I’m vulnerable.”

  Tak nodded. I am too.

  Klinge rubbed his brow. “I heard it spoken once... but not by one of The Forsaken. I don’t suppose we have some wine?”

  Tak turned to Xi, who grunted, sat down and began to count on his fingers.

  “I didn’t die during the war,” said Raven. “I’ve had one death, after the war. I’ve never heard The Unbinding or any of The Forsaken speak my true name.”