“It was not until much later that I began to suspect. There were other rumors as well—tales that grew in odd and unexpected ways before they reached my ears. It was difficult for me to tell what was true, for the tales always seemed to be tangled up in lies.”
“You taught Zalos?” Luthiel asked.
“I have not stopped regretting it for almost three thousand years. For a time, he was my finest student.” He stared at the table for a while as the others sat in silence.
“Vaelros,” Mithorden continued after a long pause. “There is no reason for you to feel responsible for the things you were compelled to do. You preserved your will, and now you are free.”
“Not altogether free,” Vaelros said. “Though the darkness is very distant now, my dreams are still haunted by nightmares. But it is a small thing when compared with before.”
“In your time as one of them, did you see anything else?”
“I saw much, but none of it is clear to me,” Vaelros said. “I cannot tell my remembered nightmares from what actually happened. Nightmare or dream, it is difficult to recall anything other than flashes and moments. Except for my time with Merrin and, later, with Luthiel. I remember those times as clearly as a midsummer night with all the moons in the sky.”
Mithorden nodded.
“The mind craves comfort and will shy away from that which it fears or cannot understand,” he said. “What you have already said reveals enough. Much I have long suspected without proof. We have to wonder, then, whether Zalos has other reasons for wanting war with the Vyrl than simple revenge. Though he may be unscrupulous, he is cunning. He has a power in his voice that allows him to compel others to aid him. Much rides on us countering Zalos’ influence over the elves. It would help us to know why he wants this war.”
“He has always sought rulership,” Ahmberen said. “Perhaps he is trying to cement a claim to the starlight throne.”
“His designs may fall much deeper. It has long been my fear that he serves a greater, darker will than even his own.”
He lifted the black and blood colored box off the table.
“This box is proof that my fears were not without reason.”
“How?” Luthiel asked.
“It is made of Narmiel,” Mithorden continued. “But not just any Narmiel. This metal is far more pure than even that within Ecthellien’s sword.” He held the box to his eyes. “This metal has been reworked. But if you look closely you can still see some of its original design. This one, it seems, still bears some of its original markings.”
He pointed to some runes, that, though distorted, were still visible upon the box’s surface.
“This one says:
“Beneath my will”
“What does it mean?” Luthiel said, leaning closer.
“It is only one part of the eight part saying:
“Beneath my will, Under my gaze, Compelled by blackness, Under my sway, Hunger to devouring, Ambition to burning, Satisfaction to emptying, Ease to yearning
“This incantation was carved into a crown of shadow. Netharduin—they were once called.”
“This is a piece of a Netharduin?” Vaelros asked.
“What is a Netharduin?” Luthiel asked.
“They were made over six thousand years ago by Gorthar. Within them were trapped spirits of the void that would influence or dominate all who wore them. Gorthar used them to corrupt the angels. By them many beautiful things fell from grace. Among them were Vyrl, who were consumed by hunger and the Narcor who were consumed by madness and lust for burning. Their fall brought much suffering to this world. Not the least of which was the ruin of Eledweil which became Gorothoth.”
Mithorden held the piece before him and Luthiel gazed at it apprehensively.
“This is a piece of a shadow crown?”
“Yes,” Mithorden replied. “But not just any Netharduin. This is a piece of the master Netharduin that Gorthar used to ensnare Chromnos the first and mightiest of the Elohwë. For many years, Chromnos was influenced by the shadow crown. But Chromnos, whose spirit is the very flame of will in this world, could not be wholly overcome. When he discovered Gorthar’s plan, Chromnos struck the Netharduin with a mighty blow. It shattered into eight pieces, freeing him of its influence. Then he cast Gorthar from heaven, tossing the broken crown after him. Gorthar fell onto the moon that was then named Eledweil and is now called Gorothoth. The pieces of the crown must have fallen somewhere nearby. Somehow, Zalos has recovered at least seven of them and reworked them into boxes.
“This little box has revealed more to me than a hundred years worth of searching. Even a fragment of a Netharduin is very potent. Its use confirms that Zalos is serving Gorthar. The stakes for Zalos will be high—much higher than if he were acting out of his own interest. Under Gorthar, it is likely that Zalos’s goal is to break the Faelands.”
They stared in silence at the box in Mithorden’s hand.
Of Thrar Taurmori
the Demon Lord
“But I doubt that he is the only one we should concern ourselves with,” Mithorden continued. “No, I am afraid that others, though less visible than Zalos, may be equally dangerous.”
“Thrar Taurmori,” Ahmberen said.
“He is one,” Mithorden replied.
“The Widdershae,” Eshael whispered.
“Yes, they are indeed dangerous! Do any of you here know anything about them?”
“We know of Thrar Taurmori,” Ecthellien said.
“As do I,” said Gormtoth.
“He was with us on Eledweil,” Ecthellien said. “There, he was the lord of the Malcor. When the war was lost he fled to Ghul Shalar in the Rimwold. There he rules over all the lands within sight of his iron tower. Many among the goblins serve him. Trolls have also come to him from Cauthraus and a few Malcor still walk behind the walls of his fortress.”
Luthiel knew of Thrar Taurmori only as one of the lords of the Fae. For he was the most influential lord in Rimwold.
“He is a demon?” she asked. “But how could he be a Faelord?”
Ahmberen turned toward her.
“He turned the tide of battle against the Vyrl and joined with Valkire on the condition that he keep his fortress, lands and power. Valkire agreed, so long as Thrar forfeited his Netharduin and would never again set fire to the land. For a time, Thrar Taurmori was true to his word and we kept his crown here in the Vale of Mists.”
“But a hundred years ago,” Eshael continued. “Someone entered the Vale, slipped into our fortress and stole the Netharduin from our vault.”
“I hunted the thief for many days,” Othalas growled. “But he was quick and cunning. Though I found his trail many times I could never catch up with him. The goblins had left fresh mounts for him along the way. He would ride one at full gallop until he reached the next, where he would change and then ride on. But I stayed close behind him, in some cases within hours. He must have sensed me, for he rode as if death itself were at his heels.”
“It was,” Melkion hissed.
Othalas ignored the dragon and continued.
“I kept going south, past the lands of Minonowe and into Rimwold. Finally I came to the iron tower of Ghul Shalar. It was then that I knew who had stolen the crown.”
“We sent messages to High lord Tuorlin of Ithilden,” Ecthellien said. “But we received no answer. They would not believe the word of a Vyrl against the word of Thrar Taurmori.”
“So he has his crown of shadow again?” Luthiel asked.
Ecthellien nodded.
“How many crowns were there to begin with?” Luthiel said.
“Only four,” Mithorden replied. “Three for the Elohwe and one for lord Chromnos.”
“Chromnos broke his and Thrar Taurmori stole his back, but what happened to the other two?”
“What indeed?” Mithorden said with his bushy eyebrows raised.
She knew the sorcerer was holding something back and it irritated her. But before she could come up with a retort, Ahmbe
ren spoke.
“Valkire kept the crown that was taken from the Vyrl Glauroth. But this one has since passed to Zalos. The last crown has been unaccounted for since the great betrayal.”
Outside, the suns had set and only moonlight, dimmed by the mists, filtered in through the painted glass. As they sat in silence, Luthiel wondered what it meant that Zalos held the pieces of one crown as well as a whole one. She also wondered about Thrar Taurmori. He wasn’t the kindest of lords but she’d never thought of him as a demon.
It could explain Vane and his family, she thought.
Before she could follow this line of thought for much longer, Mithorden spoke again.
“Now that it seems you have exhausted your knowledge, I will tell you what I know. But I think we should eat first. I find it better if such business is dealt with on a full stomach,” he said.
Do No Harm Without Need
Grendilo brought in foods of all types as well as wine and water. Mithorden ate like a man possessed of great hunger but he wouldn’t eat any meat. When Luthiel asked him why he never ate meat, he replied, “I have vowed to do no harm without need. If I am starving in the woods, then I would take a beast as I would a root. But, given a choice, I would let live. I get enough from fruits and honey, from breads and cheeses.”
Luthiel nodded but she found herself wondering if she could ever give up eating meat. She fancied herself a huntress and felt no wrong for her taking life for food. She understood, too, that the wild creatures had a will to live and to hunt and that, to some, she might also be taken for a predator like the wolf or the bear.
They are like me, she thought. They take life to live.
We are like the wolf and bear. We are like you as well. The Vyrl thought to her in reply.
At first she was startled by the sudden intrusion of the Vyrl’s thoughts. But she soon calmed, thinking about how the Vyrl almost consumed her. How they almost certainly would have killed Leowin.
Is this the way wild creatures view me? As a monster?
The thought was unsettling and she put down her fish for a moment.
But you were not always this way. You did not always consume the blood of elves, she thought.
Oh we did. But before we never consumed enough to kill. In those days some of us took elves as lovers. These gave us both blood and passion. Later, the dark desires came upon us and we killed many of those we adored, Ecthellien thought.
What you became was beyond nature, Luthiel thought. You fed upon all you could devour. Your hunger was never satisfied.
True, Ecthellien thought. When our might was limited, first by the depravity of false leaders, then by guilt, and finally by the division that comes with lack, our strength waned and we grew mad with hunger. We, with the Ingolith, turned all of Eledweil into our larder and, together, we devoured most of the creatures that lived there. In the end there was nothing left but lifeless waste. We were the few who ate many and we could not control our hunger. Soon, we had no one left to devour but one another. But elves might also ruin a world if you lost or failed to use those greatest gifts of life and intelligence—invention and advancement. If false leaders led you astray; if you were made to feel guilty for using the arts and powers that sustained you; you might also fall first into decline and finally into war and madness. Are we really all that different, you and I?
Luthiel considered Ecthellien’s thoughts as she ate. Though she felt there was a difference between elves and the Vyrl, she realized that the difference was less clear than she had originally believed.
Could we really ruin this world as the Vyrl ruined Eledweil? she thought.
What in nature could not, through misguidance and failure to properly develop the strength to which it is due, become dangerous? Dangerous even to itself. Life often does what it can. It is the way of life to seek power, to survive by that power, to exploit through that power and finally to develop into something far beyond what it was before, something greater. It is when life becomes limited that depravity sets in. The end for those who cannot escape is always the same—a bitter struggle and finally death.
What Gorthar did to us was to take away those things that made us strong—our connection to dreams, to inspiration, and to our will to make our own future. We were limited, driven to desperate hunger. And it is when the great races are compelled to commit violence or to do harm out of desperation—when they think they have no other choice—that abomination arises. Some call this evil. Having suffered it, I know it as weakness.
But am I right to think that affliction isn’t the only thing that causes it? Luthiel thought. What about those who choose to deny something from a creature so that it becomes desperate or broken or both?
This is worse still. Those who inflict deprivation are the authors of evil.
But what if, by restraint, you deprive yourself? Luthiel thought.
This is the greatest evil. For what a creature will do to itself it will not hesitate to do to others, Ecthellien replied. But what you have described is not restraint. For restraint results in a benefit. Gluttony is harmful because it makes a creature weak, sickly, vulnerable to outside influence. Restraint results in strength of body and mind. Deprivation is what you are describing. It is always harmful, stifling what a thing needs to become greater.
So when do you know you have taken too much from yourself? When does self restraint become deprivation? Luthiel thought.
You will know, if you are truthful to yourself, the difference between deprivation and restraint. The counterfeit of restraint is denial of personal truth. In this denial lies the seed of depravity.
Luthiel’s head was spinning. She was finding the twisting meanings difficult to grasp. The Vyrl’s thoughts didn’t make sense. There was so much more to it. It couldn’t be so easily described.
But what about intentional wrongdoing? Theft, murder, tyranny for power’s sake?
It becomes clear when you understand that intentional wrongdoing is denial of personal truth. For when you harm others you deprive the most important part of yourself. It is the part of you that hungers for love and to give love. Many do not think of it as a need. But it is as necessary as air and light, as essential as earth and water. It is the very design of life to support other life and to grow greater by the support of other living things, Ecthellien replied.
These are the great, unspoken, laws that are woven into us all—heart and hide, blood and bone. If we break them or if others, who have power over us, break them then the result is evil. It is both very simple and very difficult to understand. But the pattern is within us all and we must keep our eyes open to the truth to understand it. Believing alone is not enough. We must each find it. And once we do, we must never lose sight of it.
You know a lot about good and evil for one who still suffers from depravity, Luthiel thought.
I was pushed into darkness and with your help I climbed out again. I know the way both falling down and climbing out. Now I am stronger. With your help I will grow stronger still. It is my hope that with my help you will also grow in strength even as you lend that strength to others.
“Do no harm without need,” she said to herself.
“That’s what I said,” Mithorden replied.
“But what if need drives you to harm something?” she asked.
Mithorden looked at her and his eyes became very serious.
“Now that, Luthiel, is a very wise question,” he said. “Need, perceived or otherwise, or any other kind of desperation, is the chief reason for harm in this world. What made you ask me?”
“Something the Vyrl said to me,” she replied.
“Good, they would know much about need.”
She looked at her fish and, deciding that she didn’t need it, reached for the cheese instead. The rest of the meal she spent in silence listening to the conversations at the table but too wrapped up in her own thoughts to contribute. Finally, when dinner was almost finished she opened her mind to Ecthellien again for one last question.
> Ecthellien, I just remembered something from the old tales that I never understood. I was wondering if you could answer a question I’ve had since I was very young?
If I know the answer I will tell it.
What did Gorthar do that was so terrible? she thought. Before the betrayal, before Chromnos? What did he do that made the great mother and father cast him beyond creation and into the void?
For a while, Ecthellien was silent. When his thoughts returned again they were edged with a fear she could not put a name to, but somehow understood.
He made death final.
The words rolled through her like a long rumble of thunder.
Death final? she thought.
Yes.
Her heart quailed at Ecthellien’s thoughts. She had always believed that the spirit found new life after death. It was what she’d been taught since childhood. After death, the spirit returned to the great well of all souls. There, they waited to return to the world. It was a comfort to think about it this way. But she’d always questioned how they knew. And with the questions came doubt. Still, she couldn’t accept what Ecthellien said as truth.
But what of the things that come back? Dimlock? Wights? Or those afflicted by the black Stones?
Only abominations remain after they should have passed. Parts of them are dead, but some parts of them—the worse parts—live on. They are very close to death. So they fear it more. Until fear and its mirror—rage—is all that drives them.
Luthiel ate the last of her dinner in silence keeping both her mouth and her thoughts quiet. Still, in the back of her mind, she wondered what the world would be like without fear of death. She remained silent until the last of the plates were cleared from the table and Mithorden was, once again, walking to the head of the table.
“It would be a far better place,” she whispered to herself.
Luthiel's Song: Dreams of the Ringed Vale Page 28