by Pedro Urvi
“Invaded? By whom? The Norghanians? The Noceans?” Gerart asked in puzzlement.
Silence filled the hall after the king’s question.
At last Komir spoke.
“By foreigners from faraway lands. By men with slanting eyes.”
“Men with slanting eyes?” Urien said. “That’s not possible. There are no such men in the Tremia we know.”
“Allow him to explain,” Haradin said. His face was alive with interest.
“Men with slanting eyes, from beyond the seas. One of them walks with us.”
“Where is he? Could I meet him?” Haradin asked eagerly.
“No!” Iruki cried. “He hasn’t come. I don’t trust you. You Rogdonians, you’re no better than those Norghanian swine out there. It’s not the first time that Rogdonian soldiers have attacked the Masig people. And it won’t be the last either.”
“I won’t deny that skirmishes occur, or that in the past the relationship between our peoples has not been as cordial as it ought to. But as King of Rogdon I can assure you that this Kingdom will not attack the Masig people. And… if you have so little love for us, then why have you come?”
“For my people, for the Masig. To do everything in my power to prevent their extermination at the hands of the dark enemy.”
“And there’s another reason, isn’t there?” Urien asked with a glint of wisdom in his eyes.
“Yes, old man. To see those Norghanian pigs get what they deserve. See their entrails rot in the sun. See that not one of them is left alive.”
“Strong is the hatred you harbor,” Haradin said.
“And fair,” Iruki replied without flinching.
“How many of those foreigners are there?” Urien asked thoughtfully, more to himself than to the others. “Are they coming here or is their destination elsewhere? What’s their intention?”
Komir shrugged.
Lindaro intervened. “We don’t know. A scouting group caught up with us and tried to kill us. We escaped by a miracle.”
“How did you escape? Did you use the Ilenian portal?” Haradin asked.
Lindaro swallowed. “Yes and no,” he said at last. “You see, we were trapped in one of the temples when we accidentally… activated… one of the portals… It took us many days of study to understand the workings of the portal so that we could calibrate the destination again and return.”
“You calibrated the portal?” Haradin said, a little taken aback and deeply intrigued. “That’s truly remarkable… it can’t be done… not without a book of reference… a very special book, like one I have myself and which I’ve been studying for years. How were you able to do it?”
“We found an Ilenian book, a very powerful Grimoire… The Book of the Moon,” Sonea said. She reached over her shoulder to tap the huge volume she was carrying in a bag on her back.
Haradin’s eyes opened wide. He was about to say something, but choked, coughed convulsively and was obliged to lean heavily on his staff.
His reaction surprised Aliana. It was rare for Haradin to show any sign of surprise, no matter how devastating the news, and he always seemed to take things calmly. But what surprised the Healer even more was a gesture from someone else in the group in reaction to Haradin’s surprise. Someone had reached unconsciously for the pommel of a sword and leant forward slightly. Aliana glanced discreetly at that person… at Kayti. The redhead was staring intently at the Mage. What was going on there? What mystery was hidden in the volume?
“What these two little know-alls mean to say,” Hartz’s voice thundered, “is that we spent days trapped in that Ilenian temple while they were happily studying the damned silver book and playing around with that bloody portal. After an eternity they found out how to bring us back. Although if you ask me, I think it was more luck than anything else.”
“But how can you say that!” Sonea burst out. “Of course it was our discoveries. Luck had nothing to do with it!”
“It took us the time it did, we couldn’t go any faster,” Lindaro said in self-defense. “Studying takes time, and you should be thankful it didn’t take us twice or three times as long.”
Hartz folded his arms over his chest. He snorted loudly and rolled his eyes.
Aliana noticed that Kayti was more relaxed now. The white armor she was wearing made her seem the reincarnation of a warrior goddess, both pure and lethal.
Haradin forced himself to give them a soothing smile. “The important thing is that you’re all back and alive,” he said faintly.
“And now, Haradin?” Gerart asked. He looked at each of them in turn. “You wanted to stop the medallions falling into the hands of our enemy, since they might be used against us. That’s been done, or rather the Norriel and his friends have done it. The five medallions are here before me today. And I wonder… Might their power help Rogdon’s cause? Save my people?”
Haradin looked at the King and sighed deeply.
“I have spent much time, your Majesty, trying to understand the ends of these five medallions, trying to decipher their power. A power so great that it might well prevent the end of all things. An end which for Rogdon, for our cause, will arrive with the coming dawn. The enemy will attack at daybreak and most likely annihilate the people of Rogdon. These medallions, their power, might be our last hope. It is risky, and it might easily destroy us in the attempt, but tomorrow in the battlefield they will be our last chance against the enemy.”
The King nodded, understanding the risk they would be taking.
“Tell me, Haradin, if we take the risk, if we risk using those medallions, will my Kingdom be saved? Is there any reason for hope?”
Haradin’s gaze turned to the five Bearers.
“Hope must never leave a man’s heart, your Majesty. A spark and a breath of air is all that is needed to light the flame of human hope in valiant hearts. I cannot guarantee that we will live, your Majesty, nor even that I will manage to work out how to use the power hidden in those medallions against our ruthless enemies, but I can assure you that hope burns in my heart with a pure flame.”
“That is all your King needs to know. Tomorrow we shall face the enemy. We shall go down to the outer wall of Rilentor and fight there against the invading armies. If we must die, so be it, but we will die fighting to the last man, until the last drop of blood in our bodies is spent.”
“I shall be at your side, your Majesty,” Haradin said, and bowed.
Gerart rose to his feet and turned to the Bearers.
“Can the King of Rogdon count on the support of the Bearers? Will you fight by my side tomorrow?”
A heavy silence filled the Throne Hall.
It was a crucial moment for the history of Rogdon, for the future of the whole continent. Thousands of lives were at stake. All depended on the decision that small group of Chosen would make.
Aliana stepped forward.
“You can count on me and my medallion, my Lord King,” she said with a bow.
Komir felt a pang of jealousy gnawing at his stomach.
Asti came to stand beside Aliana.
“I with Aliana,” she said.
Sonea took a nervous step forward. “If Haradin needs me to use the medallions, I’ll be there to help him in whatever way I can.”
“The Norghanians will pay dearly for their crimes against my people,” Iruki said firmly.” You can count on my medallion, King of the Rogdonians.”
A tense silence filled the Hall.
Komir had not committed himself.
All eyes stared at him.
Komir looked at Gerart, then at Aliana, and finally at Haradin. Hartz’s voice thundered behind him: “Komir, you’re not going to let them do this without you, are you?”
Komir looked at his big friend and smiled.
“Of course I’m not, you can count on me too,”
“Yes, sir, that's the way to talk!” Hartz roared. “Let’s crush a few skulls!” At this, Kayti jabbed him with her elbow to keep him under control.
Gerar
t smiled broadly.
“Thank you, Bearers, your courage fills my heart with hope. Once the issue is resolved, there is one final ally we must secure. Haradin, please can you admit her?”
“With pleasure, your Majesty,” Haradin said, and left the Hall through a side door.
A few moments later he returned with a woman.
Komir looked at her with interest and recognized her immediately. It was Auburu, the Matriarch of his tribe, the Bikia, of the Norriel.
The Norriel leader came up to King Gerart. When she saw Komir she stopped and greeted him with a sincere smile. She spoke to him in Norriel.
“It gladdens me to find you alive and well, young bear. I see the protection of the three goddesses is with you.”
Komir bowed his head in respect. “Thank you, Auburu. I too am glad to find the Matriarch of my tribe well. I have only good wishes for the Bikia.”
Auburu smiled and nodded. She looked at Komir, then at Hartz,
“Norriel you are and Norriel you shall die. Whenever you wish to return, you shall be welcome; the tribe will receive you and protect you, for you carry the mark of the bear engraved with fire. Never forget it.”
Hartz and Komir bowed their heads and thanked her.
Auburu gave them a last smile, then turned to the King. Using the language of the West so that everybody would understand her, she said:
“I come representing the thirty Norriel tribes. I speak for their leaders.”
Gerart nodded. “I wish you to convey my most sincere gratitude, and that of the Rogdonian people, to the thirty tribes. You saved us from extermination, and this prowess and the debt of gratitude it implies will never be forgotten. You have the eternal gratitude of the King of Rogdon and all his people.”
“I shall convey this to my people,” Auburu said.
“I have called you here because in all probability, the enemy will attack tomorrow and we need your support once more, or else we are doomed. What have the thirty tribes decided in the Council? Will they support us tomorrow in the battlefield or will they go back to the highlands?”
Auburu considered each of them in turn. They waited tensely for her answer, until at last she replied calmly:
“The thirty in Council have discussed this matter. Reaching the right decision has been very hard, but it has finally been achieved.”
“What is the decision of the Norriel people?” Gerart asked. He was unable to conceal how much depended on the reply.
Auburu sighed. “We shall fight today in order not to have to fight tomorrow.”
Gerart’s face lit up. “We shall never be able to repay this debt of gratitude,” he said with overwhelming sincerity.
The Matriarch’s eyes met his for a moment.
“Remember it always, King of the Rogdonians. Remember the day on which the savages of the highlands helped the powerful men of blue and silver, remember the day on which everything was lost and the Norriel did not retreat, but stayed and fought, without fearing defeat, without fearing death.”
Gerart bowed to Auburu. “It shall never be forgotten. On that you have my word as King.”
Auburu turned and with a last glance at Komir and Hartz, left the Hall.
Gerart turned to the others. “The King is thankful for your commitment and sacrifice. You are indeed heroes of Rogdon now. Tomorrow we shall fight together, shoulder to shoulder, and we shall defeat the enemy. Rest now and prepare for the final battle that is to come.”
The Council ended, and Komir almost ran out of the Throne Hall without even looking back, without even glancing at her. But Aliana was determined to put an end to the Norriel’s hurtful indifference and hurried to follow him. She caught up with him in the gardens and seized his arm.
“Komir, I want to talk to you.”
Hartz and Kayti, who were with Komir, made their excuses and went on, leaving them alone in the intimacy created by night and the stars. Komir looked at her carelessly, and to Aliana it was as though he had stabbed her with a dagger whose hilt was of emerald.
“Why are you behaving like this to me, Komir?”
“I don’t know what you mean…”
“Of course you do!”
Komir looked away.
“Why? Tell me!” Aliana burst out in frustration.
Komir was surprised by her outburst. He had never seen her like this before, and lowered his defenses.
“I saw you kissing Gerart,” he muttered.
Aliana sighed. “It wasn’t me that kissed him.”
“I know what I saw.”
“It was him who kissed me.”
Komir seemed to hesitate for a moment. “It might have been that way… but in any case, you didn’t seem displeased. I didn’t notice you stepping back.”
“You misinterpret what you saw.”
“My eyes saw what they saw.”
“Your eyes didn’t see my intention. Nor do they know my heart.”
“You don’t owe me any explanation. He’s the King of Rogdon, handsome, brave and honorable. I understand, he’ll make you Queen and cover you in silks and jewels. I’m nothing more than a Norriel, a wild man from the highlands. All I have is my sword. I can’t compete for your affection against a powerful King.”
“You’re wrong. You’re much more than that. My heart will choose whoever it must, with no regard for rank or social position, because the heart doesn’t care about these things.”
“I know what I feel, and my eyes don’t fool me.”
“I haven’t made my decision, Komir. Don’t jump to the wrong conclusions.”
“Your decision is yours, that’s true. And mine is mine.”
With these words Komir turned away from her. Without a backward glance he walked off into the night.
Aliana was left standing there, confused, and full of fury and passion. She could see three destinies before her, three paths as unique and different as they were appealing to her soul. All three called to her heart to follow them. She could be Queen of Rogdon by the side of the handsome, chivalrous Gerart; she could go with Komir, who filled her with passion; or she could go back to the Order and follow her vocation, which made her so happy, and forget both of them. In that moment she would have given anything to know which to choose, for someone to tell her which path to follow. She looked around for some kind of sign, but once again life was being cruel to her. She would have to make the decision for herself and live with the consequences. She could only hope she would not make the wrong choice…
She glanced up at the moon and questioned her.
“What path should I follow, Goddess of the night?”
The Goddess looked down on her serenely, but said nothing.
Aliana bowed her head.
“The decision is mine, and I’ll have to make it alone …”
Carnage
Lasgol struggled with the chains which tied him to the wooden post driven into the ground. Around him fifty or so other still-living prisoners were also trying in vain to break free and escape. Life is full of troubles, he thought, and smiled at his bad luck. When they had tied him to the post he had given himself up for dead. As a result he had begun to meditate very seriously on the sense of honor and that of duty to one’s country. He had made one last attempt to carry out his duty honorably, unmasking Count Volgren before King Thoran as the traitor he was. But cruel fate had reminded him once more that the greed of soulless men rules not only the kingdom of Norghana, but all over the world.
When the Norriel attack took them by surprise, the Norghanian army had been forced to retreat fast without looking back. Rangulfsen was a prudent and intelligent General and had ordered his forces to regroup to the south in order to minimize casualties and take stock of the situation. So fast had the men of the snow pulled back that wounded and prisoners had been left in the camp, abandoned and forgotten by all, winners as well as losers. On his right he could see a mound of corpses rotting on the desolate battlefield.
Lasgol smiled. The irony of his situation gna
wed at his spirit. Joy at the attack and the hope of freedom had given way to despair, since in his present situation, tied to that post, he was going to die. He had tried to break free by using his Gift, but none of his skills would allow him to free himself from those chains. He shook his head in frustration.
A sad way to die, he thought, and bowed his head, resigned to his fate.
“Problems?” came a voice behind him.
Lasgol turned his head fearfully and received the surprise of his life.
“Yakumo!”
The Assassin eyed him with a smile of amusement, his slanting eyes shining with intensity.
“Help me, please! Before they come back.”
“They won’t, they’re getting ready to destroy the city. They’re already forming lines. They’ll attack at dawn.”
“Help me get free. I know we’ve been enemies in the past, but don’t let me die here, not like this. Don’t leave me here to be food for vermin. I beg you.”
“I’ll set you free, Tracker, but you must promise something in return.”
“If what you’re going to ask me is honorable, you can count on it.”
Yakumo nodded.
“It is indeed honorable.”
“Then you have my word.”
A red flash ran through the Assassin’s body.
“Time to regain your freedom, Tracker.”
With dawn came what all feared. The war-horns rang defiantly to the south and the enemy hosts began their advance toward the city. In the middle came the Invincibles of the Ice in their snow-white attire and winged helmets. On their right they were escorted by the men of the Thunder Army, General Olagson’s men, in close formation. On their left came the men of the Snow Army, led by General Rangulfsen himself. Behind was the Blizzard Army, the mixed forces, General Odir’s men. Covering both flanks and the rearguard were the Nocean legions, forming a protective barrier in the shape of a horseshoe around the Norghanian nucleus. This time they would not be taken by surprise —the Nocean legions would protect their flanks against whatever threats might arise.