by Jake Yaniak
The Mural
After many attempts, Daryas at last lit for himself another torch. This he nearly dropped at the first spark of light, for before him there stood a great wall of brilliant white stone, the reflection of which seemed to transform his small torch into the sun itself. On this stone wall there were carved figures and letters, such as Daryas could not comprehend. At the bottom of each an explanation was written in a very ancient form of the Noras script, of which Daryas knew very little.
There were twelve tablets altogether, set across four rows, and three deep. The letters on the highest of these he could not make out. But the pictures were well carved, and could be seen well enough from where he stood.
He took but a glance at these, and not in the order in which they were carved. But what he described I record in order here:
First there was what appeared to be a mountain with the sun rising behind it. Beneath this there was carved the image of a man and a woman facing, as if in battle, a great dragon, out of whose mouth poured what looked like water.
The tablet to the right of this one was filled with images of war and death. In the center of all this chaos, surrounded by the bodies of the slain, there stood seven great heroes with long swords and round shields.
Below the first stone there was a scene that seemed to be the departing of a son from his father's house. The son was arrayed in rich robes, and departed with light shining upon his face. But the father, nonetheless mourned.
All that could be read on the next tablet was, 'The ancient ones, who brought with them beauty and grief.' The image was of a mighty warrior, wielding a sword and scepter beneath which passed many frail forms of men. A crown was set upon his head and he seemed to almost float above the earth as one of the gods.
The next one said only 'The Twins', and on it was carved two figures, standing one upon the sun and the other upon the moon. Beneath the sun there was a fawn and under the moon a dark wolf. But these, the fawn and wolf, seemed to be in a different style of painting, which Daryas took to mean that they had been added to the picture in more recent age.
The rest of the images showed only more death and horror, ending with a striking image of a dragon and of a ship setting out to sail upon stormy seas. Beneath this he saw the old Noras word for 'Ghosts', but no connection could he discern between what was written and what was painted on the wall.
There was much more written and much more to be gleaned from these tablets than Daryas was able to recall or record at that time. Indeed, in later years this was discovered to be the case. But here is not the place for such things, as they would, I do not doubt, occupy a very large work themselves.
Lutrosis and the Sword
After he had tarried here as long as he dared, he made his way to the right of the mural and found at last a large room in which was placed, upon a stone table, a long sword unsheathed. The light of the flame seemed almost to be captured by the blade, rather than reflected, and the rest of the room seemed to vanish away in darkness. Daryas stood for a long while in awe of its beauty, for never had he seen a finer blade.
'A man of worth indeed,' came a voice out of the shadows. At this Daryas swung around and drew his sword. 'Who is there?' he demanded. No answer came. When he was at last fully convinced that it was his own mind deceiving him, he turned again to the table. But even as he reached his hand out toward the sword he felt once more that another stood beside him in the darkness. He took the sword in hand quickly, and a thunderous chuckle echoed throughout the chamber. He swung torch and sword about in frantic motions, seeking out the source of the dreadful laughter, but nothing could be discovered but the shifting form of his own shadow.
With each step he took toward the place he had entered, the laughter grew more horrible and cruel. He began to rush back toward the tunnel, now hoping to have the safety of those tight walls about him. But as he ran we found his feet were pulled out from beneath him, sending him falling on his face in the dark. His torch sputtered out and the darkness at last filled the whole place.
There he was overtaken by many foul dreams and tormented for a long time by visions of that witch Evna, who had taunted him so many times before. 'Little hope have you, son of Biron, to do what you have set out to do,' she seemed to laugh. But as he regained his wits, the voice seemed to change, sounding more like that which he had heard before in the darkness. When he had lain on the cold ground for what seemed like many days, he at last began to make as if he would leave this place forever. But ere he rose to his feet he saw before him cold green eyes, glowing in the darkness. He lifted his sword and rushed upon the creature with a great fury, such as only the sons of Biron can muster. But this was to no avail. He found his throat to be in the clutches of something much mightier than himself. It tore at his throat, reopening the wound he had received in the Nunnery of Agonistes many months before.
'Release me!' he pleaded, and much to his surprise, his assailant obeyed.
'It is but fair,' a cruel voice said, 'for how would it be if I had power over you, and you had naught to do against me?'
'Who are you?' Daryas shouted, clutching his neck in pain.
''That you know already,' the voice said. 'Or,' it seemed almost thoughtful, 'perhaps it may be that you do not know me.' A great laugh echoed again in the tunnel. 'You know me as well as you know anyone else, even better, I would say. But yet you know me not at all.' Again it laughed at his misery. 'A perfect contradiction, unseemly for one such as yourself, but yet perfect in its opposition. Still more perfect is it in its reality!'
'I don't know what you are saying!' Daryas said. 'If you are not wholly bereft of reason, then I would have you tell me for what purpose you have assailed me!'
'Purpose? For what purpose?' the voice laughed. 'I am to thee, purpose. I have ever been your master, and you have been naught but my slave, though you have hidden me well. Ever the sun shines upon your face, and ever I am hid behind you, so that no light ever shines upon me. When the sun is high, and there is no more place to hide, you improvise, sticking me under your feet even, as if I were a slave. But I am a slave driver, not a servant. And you are meant to serve me. From henceforth it shall be so. For you have set your hands upon that dread sword, that sword that sunders spirit from soul, dividing and cleaving all that it touches. Even as it will undoubtedly cleave many foes for you, against you it has also begun to work.'
'You speak madness,' Daryas said in frustration. 'And I have not time for this.' With that he began to feel his way in the darkness toward the place he had entered.
'Yet,' the voice said cruelly, 'You will learn that there is nothing so pressing or important that you will walk away from me as I speak.' With those words he grabbed Daryas by the back of the neck and hurled him against the wall. Daryas lifted his sword again.
'What exactly do you raise your sword against, Daryas? Will you cut me? Will you put an end to me, that being without whom you should not so much as draw breath?'
'Tell me who you are!'
'You will see ere the end, just who it is that I am,' the voice said. Now, give me that sword,' the voice wrested the blade from Daryas' hand and pushed him once more to the ground. By the light of the creature's glowing green eyes Daryas could see that the blade was now pointed at his own throat.
'For what would you slay me?' Daryas said weakly. 'I have committed no crime against you.'
'I will not slay you, Daryas,' the voice said calmly. 'As repugnant as it may be, you are as necessary to me as I to thee. But no longer shall you play the master. You have taken up the sword, and by it the truth shall be revealed in due course. From henceforth it shall be you that lurks in the dark shadows.'
With those words the creature struck him in the face once more with the hilt of the sword.
Daryas knew not how long he had lain there senseless. Scarcely could he recall what had taken place. But as soon as he awoke he heard a voice from behind him. 'Now, let us depart. I am weary of darkness, and there are many things that I wish to acc
omplish ere Death takes me.'
'It is good to know that you are mortal at least,' Daryas said, still in great confusion, 'That will be my great hope and comfort.'
The creature just laughed.
Sunlight
Much to Daryas' surprise, when he at last emerged from that dungeon, he found that there was not a scratch upon him. No trace of the beating he had taken appeared upon his face, though, he said, he felt it nonetheless. More surprising to him was the hour and day in which he returned. He felt as though it had been a whole week. Revere assured him that if it had been so long he would have died of thirst, 'You left your waterskin behind,' he chided him, 'A very foolish thing to do.'
At last the sword of Pelas, as it was called in the histories, was brought forth into the light of day. Even this light the blade seemed to steal away, darkening the forest around it. Upon its hilt there was an inscription, 'The blade's true name,' Rahdmus said. 'This is Tanak, one of the mighty Elf-blades. It is one of those precious blades that were, in ancient days, blessed, or cursed one might say, with the power of speech.'
'The blade speaks?' Daryas said.
'So it is said,' Rahdmus laughed. 'But we have not the time as of now to wait and listen, nor should we obey it should it begin barking out commands. We must go at once to Dadron, where the blade will be put to its final test.'
We left the very next morning, letting Daryas sleep for as long as he required. Then we made our way back across the Rilcos-la and began our descent into the south. Familiar all the roads now seemed to us, but when we at last set foot in Galva-la, Rahdmus asked, 'Son of Biron, which is the swiftest way to the Gavl lake?'
'I would say the river, but it is too shallow here to take to boats, nor could a boat be found that would bear our steeds in such waters.'
'Haste is needed, if your kinsman is to be spared alive. For within the beleaguered walls of Dadron he will soon grow impatient and hopeless, which is to say, madness will come upon him.'
'Beyond the falls of South Lake,' Daryas said, 'I would say the quickest way to Dadron would be by the river, but such things cannot now be trusted in.'
'Then you must go east, and ride through the Forsaken Fields of West Daeva, coming to Dadron from the Northwest. Otherwise, you will never make it to the city in time.'
'But what of the siege? It cannot be imagined that either side will simply let me enter the city unimpeded.'
'You will be coming to the city by a strange road,' Rahdmus said. 'A road known only to the Ancients.'
'And what about yourself?' Revere asked.
'We will only delay you,' he answered, 'But you must take to your horses and fly through the land of Noras, coming to the Forsaken Fields through the place called the Thicket, which lies between Dae-la and Lavri-la. You will find that a path has already been cleared for you.'
'I know the place well,' Revere answered. 'Though when last I set eyes upon it one could scarcely crawl their way through it their belly, let alone ride two horses through it.'
'Much has changed since the ascendency of Ponteris,' Rahdmus said, 'New roads have been made and old ones have fallen into disuse.'
'If there be a road there, will there not also be guards?' Daryas asked.
'It is the main road through the most faithful of Ponteris' territories. They have little to fear from that land, and therefore little need for guards.'
'Very well,' Daryas said. 'Let us make our way to Dadron the Great.
Rahdmus gave them careful directions and told them all the signs by which they might come across that ancient road that leads beneath the Falsi River into the very heart of Dadron. 'Now make haste, the Spirits that rule over the destinies of men pursue Olver Galvahirne even as we speak. Though it may be that he has already fallen into the hands of the Lord of Folly.'
Chapter IX:
Dadron Besieged
The Brothers
There are many spirits who were set in ancient times to rule over mankind. But of all these spirits those of the greatest might and influence have been Lord Sleep, Lord Folly, and Lord Death. Lord Death and Lord Sleep rule over all men alike, but Lord Folly rules over only those who deign to resist the powers of his brothers. So that when men cling to life overlong, they find in gaining years they must sacrifice the very prudence they spent their time attaining. Likewise, those who tarry late into the night will find their senses dulled and their judgment weakened. Moreover, of the three, Folly alone yet had dominion over those spirits that men call gods, who sleep not and die not.
Always together these brothers may be found, though it may at times appear that one works in this place and another elsewhere. But the powers they exert know no border or boundary, they cannot be limited, altered, or halted. Nor can they be commanded.
Lord Pelas, on the fifteenth day of Solest, even as armies marched against Dadron and banners of war were sent flying under the bright summer sun, approached these dread brothers with great urgency.
'Hail, friends,' he said as he drew ever closer. He waylaid them as they journeyed along the southern road from South Lake. 'To which city do you journey now?'
Death said nothing, Folly laughed, but Sleep answered in his calm voice, 'You know as well as we do, that whatever road we walk, we walk to everyplace at once, for all the world is our domain.'
'A task I have for thee,' Pelas thundered. Death stood as silent as stone, Folly roared with laughter, and Old Man Sleep alone was left to answer.
With a sigh he said, 'Lord Pelas, you are master of many servants. But what have we to do with you? We are not your servants, nor can we alter the laws by which we have been ordained; even those laws that dictate our every step. For we would do a great wickedness if we walked outside of those precepts that have long guided us. We would become, even as many others have, fallen stars, burning in the secret vaults of hell.'
'Are you slaves, then? I have never heard such a thing?' Pelas said with some frustration.
'Slaves? No, there are no slaves in our realm. But the steps of the righteous are laid out before them with an unbreakable power. It is whether we choose to walk therein and follow those steps that determines in the end what manner of creatures we are.'
'If, then, you are not slaves,' Pelas said, 'then you may at least be approached in council.'
'Indeed,' Sleep answered, 'Even as we are brought into council each time a man begs for one more hour of wakefulness, or when a man clings to life, though Death's dagger lies within his breast, or when a man takes care to walk in righteous paths, that Folly may have no dominion over him.'
'That is what I have been saying,' Lord Pelas laughed. 'Now, there is a certain man, whose life alone stands between the land of Noras and its destiny.'
'What is his name?' Folly said, at last breaking from his constant chuckles.
'His name is Olver Galvahirne,' Pelas said with malice in his voice. Old Man Sleep shook his head. Pelas explained, 'For many ages I have guided the people of Noras, saving them from their oppressors and giving to them wisdom and strength undeserved. Yet their mightiest Cheftan has seen fit to cast me aside, even as I worked to comfort him in his darkness. Therefore, the scepter of Noras will pass to another, even to the son of Biron, Daryas, who will bear the light of Pelas into the West.'
Folly laughed heartily, 'We care not for your nations and your political ramblings. The question we concern ourselves with is this: Why ought we meddle in the affairs of this son of Galvahir? We will not do it because this or that Cheftan chooses to slay deer and sheep on your behalf.'
'Do not forget to whom you speak,' Pelas said, rising to his full height.
Folly fell to the ground, holding his side as if in pain. A chuckle passed from Pelas' chest, and soon he was laughing loudly, saying, 'Even the old slave-masters of mankind ought not set their wills against that of Pelas, lord of Weldera.'
Old Man Sleep spoke in a sad voice, 'We will do as you will. It is fated, the nephew of Biron will ignore many signs, and this will bring him under the dominion of Fo
lly and… finally, Death.'
Pelas said nothing more, but turned and walked away, with a look of immortal pride upon his face. 'There is no god in Weldera such as I.'
When he had left, however, Folly at last broke forth into a greater laughter than he had hitherto laughed. He rose to his feet and it became clear that he had not fallen to the ground in pain. A look of such joy was in his eyes that for a great many leagues of their walk his companions could scarcely tolerate him. 'I think it is rather sad,' Sleep said after a while. He has done his best for many years to care for these folk.'
'Indeed,' spoke grim Death at last, 'But no one asked him to do so. What is he then but a tyrant and a menace?'
'Fear not, brethren,' Folly laughed, 'it will not be long until he too is fully under my power!'
'I would say that the hour has already come,' Sleep said.
'Nay,' Folly said, 'There are many good jokes yet to come. He must first be made a spectacle of for the sake of he who lives in the Hidden South. Then the end must at last be brought upon him.'
'Then I will finish that which I began in ancient times,' Death said almost with joy at the thought. Folly began to laugh again.