by Jake Yaniak
I hesitated, knowing that my life was bound to my next move. He laughed more, and my anger grew, but I could see that I could not destroy him without losing my own life. 'Your life is not worth it,' I said weakly.
He then began to speak boldly, making a spectacle of himself before all his servants. He said, 'You demand an 'ought' of me, Hassan Titalirne, golden-head, son of a pirate. In this you sound like a cleric's son and not the grandson of a Cheftan. 'Oughts' and 'shoulds' are words for the priests - when they lead the people to worship. They are not words for the world, my dear son. The world does not deal in oughts, and neither shall I,' Ponteris laughed. 'I have been told that I oughtn't have ended the overlordship of the house of Galvahir. I have also heard many voices in the dark saying that I ought to have done so many years ago, and ought to do still more! But none of these 'oughts' are of any importance, are they son? I deal only in 'is' and 'was', and if the gods grant it to me, in 'will be's'.'
'You are a madman,' I accused. But he went on undaunted by my words.
'Is it not true,' he demanded,' that I HAVE broken the arm of Galvahir at last?'
'It would seem to be so,' I said, telling him nothing of the victory of Dynamis on Coronan.
'And is it not also true that I am Cheftan Oastirne as well? Master of the house of Oastir? Do not the Cheftans of Shaf-la, Dae-la and Lavri-la stand beside me?' At this he pointed out Cheft Gornas, Cheft Grendas, Cheft Hassa and Cheft Horan who supported him. They looked away, however, as I looked at them, as though they might hide themselves from guilt. After thus pointing them out the Cheft continued with his doctrine. 'You see, my son? You can be, what you oughtn't be and do what you shouldn't do without even a hint of contradiction. The 'oughts' and 'shoulds' of the clerics do not so much as touch upon the truth. The truth is, after all, what is, and all the oughts in the world will never add up to it. Be that as it may,' he continued, 'I have a few 'oughts' and 'ought not's for you, my dear son.'
'What madness would you speak now?' I asked, frustrated.
'I say you 'ought' to lay down your sword, Hassan, if you want to live. If you want to retain your freedom, you 'ought' to bend the knee and pay your father the honor he demands. I say you 'ought' to relent from your wrath, if you do not wish to see the blood most precious to you spilt this very hour.'
At those words I was greatly troubled, seeing something hidden behind his laughter. 'Spill my blood if you will,' I demanded, 'the sooner my eyes are relieved of the burden of your ugliness the better!'
'I spoke not of your blood,' he said with a laugh. 'The forest has ears it seems, and what is done in secret is carried on the wind to those who have the cunning to discover it. I have under my power, the life of she whose attention you have long sought, and never found.'
At those words I shuddered, but said nothing.
'The fair daughter of Cheft Grendas, who you have for so long failed to win; I have it in my power to give her away to whatever man I please.'
I then looked around the room for the girl's father, and saw him; he was sitting in a corner of the room with a mug of ale in his hand, looking as powerless as he was. I know not by what means my step-father had brought him to such a state, but it was clear that he was more filled with wine and despair than with honor.
'You are a devil indeed,' I said, to which he replied with a thunderous laughter.
'Ought I to be otherwise, my son? Why should I give up all that I have gained? You sound like one of those hobbling old clerics, teaching men to act for 'Virtue's sake' But why should I be virtuous? Answer that question, and you will have done what no sage or priest has ever accomplished, my son.'
'What of the gods?' I asked him. 'Do you have no fear of hellfire?'
'You know nothing of the gods,' Ponteris snapped, 'how then can you pretend to know their will? Besides, to consider their wrath and their pleasure, as the fool Biron does, is the basest sort of virtue. Biron tells me, and the priests of Pelas taught him this, that the righteous man may lay down his life for the sake of a wealth that does not see decay; he may lay up riches in the astral kingdoms, where no risk or loss can assail them. What drivel! What vain mercenary virtue is this! To cast away your own good on earth for the sake of a good to come! Such a virtuous one is the most cunning businessman; selling his soul for the highest bidder, heavenly or not. Biron and his like, though pious they may seem, are nothing more than self-righteous sell-swords. Mercenary virtue I call it! I will play no games with such stupidity. What I want lies here within my grasp, and the gods have given me no such guarantee that I will see better if I act better. No, my son, no such unholy truths bind my will.'
I sat stunned and silent, unable to say anything in answer to his tirade. He paused for a moment and then continued, 'Who is virtuous? What is it to be good? Who decides what good is worth seeking? Every 'ought' of the priests and every 'should' of Biron and his Mercenaries has such a good in mind, of that there can be no mistake. But what is good? Answer that, my son, and you will be greater than all the prophets and seers.'
'Do you not know?' he continued, 'that every creature has some goal for which they strive? Survival, love, lust, family, power, wealth, wisdom, sympathy all of these serve as motives and bind man with duties. He who would survive must lay up stores against the winter; he who desires power must learn to risk and to fight boldly; and he who would acquire knowledge must set the shovel aside and take up the scroll. Each man's will directs and guides them as their nature dictates. Men are numerous, and so are their purposes. We each have our part to play, whether lofty or little, and each of us will seek our own.'
'Always you have sought your own,' I said.
'You say that as if I should seek the good of another instead,' Ponteris said with a grin. He made a motion with his hand to get the attention of all the scoffers and grovelers that take bread from his hand each day. 'There once was a mother who had a son whom she loved very much. But one day a villain came and threatened to kill the boy. He held the boy in his right hand with a blade drawn in the other. "Answer me, woman," he said, "Who is of greater value? The boy, or this hog?" It so happened, of course, that he had a hog beside him.' The people of the court, who had overmuch to drink, were delighted by his story, and laughed whenever it seemed the Cheftan desired them to laugh. 'Now the woman said without delay or doubt, "Spare my son, for he is worth more than any number of hogs!" Next the man turned to the hog's mother, for it so happened that the hogs mother was present as well, and he said, "Tell me Sow, which of these two are of greater value?" To this the Sow, as might be expected, said, "Kill the boy, for my son is worth any number of these wool-coated apes!"' At those words the men and women of the court fell into a roar of laughter, almost uncontrollable. 'The villain was forced to ask himself the question, "Which of these is correct? For the woman says it is her own son that is of greater value than the hog, but the Sow says just the opposite. Who should I believe, but she whose opinion is of greater value?" The man set the boy down and walked away in great confusion.'
Amidst the laughter I could do nothing but wait. At last, when the raucous had died away, he continued, saying, 'Every mother has her son, and every mother's son is worth more than the next, to their own mother at least - even to the mother of a pig. But now you must make your own choice, my son, and I will lay it out very clearly for you. Will you fight against me, hateful though I am to you, for the sake of the bumbling Biron whose kin has so long enthralled the rest of Noras, taking for the Galvahirne the lion's share of honor and wealth? Or will you take that which you have always longed for and put your hatred aside. I have it within my grasp to grant to you the hand of the fair Ingra, daughter of Cheft Grendas. But as you may well imagine I will do no such thing with your sword outstretched against me, nor will my dead body have any power to attain for you this great prize once you have had your revenge. I speak to you plainly, Hassan, more plainly than any man ever did speak. You ought to take the hand of the one you love so deeply, and you oughtn't let the sophistries of the clerics and the M
ercenary virtue of the Galvahirne stand in your way. Take what you want, and don't ever look back.'
With those words I spat upon the ground at his feet. But he was not finished with his sins.
In that moment he brought the girl out from another room and she was dressed in a gown of blue, such as the Noras are too practical to design. Her dark hair fell down upon her cheeks in great curls and a jewel was set upon her head. 'I will make your choice all the easier, Hassan, for I will grant you the power of your sympathies.' He gave a sign, and one of his hired men grabbed the girl by the hair and forced her onto the floor. He drew a knife from his pocket and held it to the girl's back. 'Swear to me loyalty, and you will have all. If you take so much as a step in my direction again, so long as you live, I will kill this girl.'
Cheft Grendas began to make some small gurgle in complaint, but in the end he did nothing to interfere. I looked about the room, and saw all the faces of the rulers of Noras. Pathetic men; all of them crooked cowards. It came into my mind, that such is the way with men of influence. I remember well what it was like to be a child, to always have someone larger than you slapping your wrist for this or swatting your leg for that. But when there are few or none larger than you, what is to keep your hand from going where it wants - and getting into trouble too. I thought all of these old men needed more than a good swatting.
In that moment it came into my heart, Daryas, that I cared not at all whether the Galvahirne ruled or fell. I cared not for the Oastirne, the Vivlirne, the Megdlirne or any other -irne of Noras. None of these held any power over me, and for none of these was I willing to surrender all.'
Daryas stood as still as a statue for a long while, not sure what to make of his old friend's strange words. Revere backed away nervously, fearing this was all simply a dramatic prelude to their destruction. 'So with long lashes and darkened curls the betrayer of my father has purchased you? Will you slay us as well? What then might be your reward?'
'He did not purchase me,' Sion said in defense, 'I purchased my own life; and saved the woman I love.'
'But how can you turn your eyes away from my father, who has been naught but good to Noras as well as to yourself? How can you serve his enemy?'
'You say "serve", Daryas, and in saying so you speak rashly. I am not your enemy, nor am I the enemy of your father. I did not betray you and your brother to the Cheftan of Oastir-la. How could I watch the one I love perish under Ponteris' cruel hand, before her drunken weakling of a father?'
'If you are not opposed to me, then you will not hinder our purposes,' Daryas said.
'That depends upon the nature of those purposes.'
'I will tell you plainly, then, that we come for the head of Ponteris; we will see the rule of the Galvahirne return to the sons of Galvahir. We have come to raise up an army, that the designs of our enemies will be thwarted.'
'I am not opposed to this, Daryas,' Sion said, 'But neither can I aid you. I will no longer fight for what I do not believe in. There was a time when you and I marched together out of duty. But all duty is dead to me, save the fair Ingra, daughter of Cheft Grendas. Seek your army. I am not your enemy; but do not seek help in Lavri-la, for the men of this country are no friends of Biron.'
'Indeed not,' Daryas said angrily. 'Then you give us leave to depart into the forest of Noras?'
'I do not give you leave, but neither do I forbid it. Ponteris believes that you are charred bones atop Coronan; how then could I give you leave?'
'It would be better if he knew that we yet lived,' Daryas said.
'But I cannot tell him that now,' Sion said. Then he laughed, 'And seeing how you are within his reach, it would do you no good for me to let him know now. If he had thought the sons of Biron were alive he would have made sure to have his dogs trained to smell Galvahirne.'
'You should not have fled the mountain, Sion,' Daryas said. 'We will need your bow and your sword ere the end.'
'My bow and sword cannot help you now, Daryas. I must content myself to live a life of my own making, rather than fight for men for whom I care nothing. I will not, for the sake of yet another Cheftan, endanger the fair daughter of Grendas.'
'You must do as you choose,' Daryas said, near tears.
Thus Daryas and Revere left the halls of the Cheftan of Lavri-la troubled and downcast, but unimpeded. The guards stared at them in wonder, not daring to waylay them.
Chapter VI:
The Hidden People
Solsis
My people live in the land of Solsis, which lies far to the south of Falsis. Falruvis built his impenetrable fortress in the north of Weldera, in a region in which many mortal kindreds already dwelt. But Solruvis, his brother, built his indiscoverable refuge in the misty valleys of the southern land. Solsis, to us, is as any other land. But to those who dwell without, the southern kingdom of the Argent elves is shrouded in myth and legend.
It is an unusual land at the very least. The great Deragi mountains in the south send torrents of water through the whole country, culminating in the mighty Fulani River, which is known in the northern kingdom simply as the Solsi River, as if to compare it to the Falsi in the north. But the Fulani at its widest is like an ocean in movement, tearing through the valleys of our land like a raging beast, continually breaking down and reshaping the central area of Solsis. The entire land of Solsis is locked in by mountains. In the north there are the Falsigi Mountains, which the northerners call the Solsist Mountains, evidencing the ancient kinship of these two lands. In the west the land is guarded by the Cuergi, which are really only the southern leg of the Coronan or Daunrys mountains. Sweeping from the northeast down to the south, connecting at last with the Deragi Mountain range is the Kolgi Range, which, though smaller than the others, offers complete protection from the sea. There are no mariners in Solsis, save for those who dare to ride the treacherous flow of the Fulani.
Solruvis perhaps saw the future more clearly than his brother in the north, seeing the hope of the elves in secrecy rather than in open might. Where Falruvis raised up the mighty walls of Dadron, Solruvis found for himself even greater walls, the impenetrable mountains of Coergi, Deragi, Falsigi and Kolgi. Each of these mountain ranges were thought of as the work of their respective gods and goddesses, the north and south a pair, the latter feminine and the former masculine, and the east and west likewise, the former being the god and the latter the goddess. Such was the mythology the elves devised for the sake of the wild men who lived in the valleys and hills of southern Weldera. Even in this quiet and mysterious land the elves found it necessary to dazzle their vassals with fabulous tales of the gods and goddesses, the sun and moon, the stars and the rocks and trees themselves.
My people have lived in the hidden valleys of Solsis from time immemorial. Our antiquity and our asceticism have long held our little society together, serving as a buffer against the conventions of the Omnion, as we call the rest of the men and elves of this world. Whatever has come to pass in all these long years, the consistency of our traditions has kept us for the most part unaltered.
The chief cities and dwellings of the elves were always in the north, on the western side of Fulani, where they could more easily commerce with their northern kin. In the height of their power, however, they had many farms, mines and villages in the east as well. These are all emptied now or occupied by half-elves or mortal men. The elves themselves have all but vanished. They have not perished; as I said before, they found in this great land a place where they might hide when the world turned dark. When the hatred of Czylost bound together the great kingdoms of men and set fire to the cities of the elves, Solran, the grandson of Solruvis, and many others of his people simply vanished into the mountains. Those who would not forsake their brethren marched over the perilous mountains and came to Dadron, there hoping to rescue their kinsmen from the conflagration that had already destroyed the city of Dalta in the east. I refer here to the aforementioned Race Wars, when Marin marched with Czylost of Lapulia against the elven world, utterly ex
terminating them in the east, and decimating them in the west. There in Dadron, it is said, Solruvis and his sons met their dooms, though none who marched in that army ever returned to Solsis to tell such a tale.
The elves who remained behind took refuge in the hidden places that Solruvis had prepared for that very hour. There they remain to this day, though there are some who believe that they too have perished from the earth. There are a few daring men in recent years who have suggested that they never really existed in the first place. But most commonly it is thought that they were all slain by goblins. There are, after all, a great number of these wild men still living in the mountainous areas of Solsis, particularly here in the north, where the cooler air is easier on their thick skins. The elves and goblins were ever at war in Solsis, at least, as far as the elves were concerned. I doubt very much that the goblins have so much as a notion of war. They fight, they kill, they steal, but they do not wage war, which is simply the structuring of these things according to a rational principle.
Though we have for so many ages lived in the shadow of these mountains, and within twenty leagues of one of the greatest goblin settlements, we have had very little trouble with them. We leave them to their hunting grounds and when their prey is depleted, or when their food for whatever reason grows scarce, we send what excess we have to them. We understand that the wars and quarrels with these creatures are more often born of hunger than of hate. Our kindnesses have, in a sense, tamed the brutes; something which, as far as I know, no other people has accomplished. We keep among us none of those useless stones and metals that men generally consider to be precious. We use no gold, and our tools are mostly of stone and wood or of common metals like iron or copper. The goblins, much like human beings, are drawn to beautiful things like flies to honey. We therefore keep our women modest, our treasures practical and our excess liberal.
Some of our neighbors insist that they oughtn't be forced to cover their women for the sake of monsters, and that they oughtn't be forced to use stone tools and wooden dishes because the goblins are thieves. They also believe that their excess belongs to them by right and they oughtn't be forced to part with it for hungry devils who have not the sense to till their own land for it. Therefore, our neighbors have war with these creatures without cease. Many of the nobler goblins, if I may be permitted to use such terms, have been exterminated by the Omnion. In turn, many of the Omnion have been slain and driven from these mountains entirely by the viler breeds. The careless manner in which the Omnion waged war against these creatures had this effect only; that the hardiest and strongest goblins survived, in turn producing hardier and ever stronger offspring. The result of all this is that some of the most powerful Hobgoblins in all the world now rule and reign in the emptied human cities that are scattered across the foothills of the Falsigi Mountains.