by Pedro Urvi
The Dark Lady, arms spread wide, chanted in a voice of velvet. A black energy, the pestilent essence of decaying death, began to leave the putrid bodies of the fallen. It condensed in each of the five circles, forming a black essence of all that is vile. Yuzumi raised her arms, threw her head back and summoned each of the five mounds of death. The negative energy rushed to her body, striking hard against her chest. But she did not flinch, she stood firm as she drank in a power as utterly fateful as the sum of all the pain, suffering and despair of the thousands of souls whose corpses lay there.
Absorbed and awed, Isuzeni witnessed the macabre ritual of death while his Mistress took on this colossal power. Once she had absorbed the last drop of life, Yuzumi ended the ritual with a prayer to Imork. The Dark Lady folded her arms across her body and left the place in the most absolute silence while her hosts, kneeling before her, took care to utter no sound which might disturb the omnipotent Empress. Surrounded by a halo of power, as if Death herself now served her, she came slowly towards Isuzeni.
“My Lady and Mistress,” Isuzeni said with a deep bow.
“High Priest,” she replied, and stared at him with pupil-less eyes, shot with the blackness of death.
“The sacred ritual has been a success, my Lady and Mistress. I can feel your incredible power emanating, beyond all constraint.”
“Indeed. You have served me well, High Priest. The power I now hold cannot be held back. The time has come for us to face destiny. Nothing can stop me now, not with this invincible army at my service, not with this unchallengeable power. I shall stop the premonition. Once again I shall alter destiny as I did before, and when I do so, this whole continent will kneel before my power. I shall raze it to dust, so that no kingdom will be left standing. It will all be mine. All!”
Isuzeni gazed at the eyes of death of his Mistress, her terrifying thirst for power, and knew that the continent was doomed.
“Yes, my Lady,” was all he dared say. The aura of power around her seemed to be on the point of swallowing him, and he feared for his life.
“Is everything ready?” Yuzumi asked, more calmly.
“Yes, my Mistress.”
“Did you locate the Marked?”
“It hasn’t been possible, a very powerful magic is interfering and preventing our spells from locating him. But he’s in the city, my Lady.”
“And the White Soul?”
“We can see her, there’s no magic protecting her.”
“They must die today, both of them.”
“They shall die, my Lady. The Premonition will not come to pass.”
“How will we locate the Marked?”
“I have worked out a plan, my Lady. The Marked one will reveal himself.”
“That pleases me. When he does so, kill them both. I want their hearts in my hand, still beating. Afterwards, kill everyone in the city. Not a single person is to be left alive. I shall run no risk. I want them all dead, Isuzeni. Dead!”
“Not a single soul will survive, my Mistress.”
“Make sure, personally, that it is so. And beware, for I can sense the power of those medallions clearly, even here at a distance. Their power is enormous and profoundly ancient, and they represent a great risk. They must come into my hands so that I can control them. Kill them all, and bring me those medallions from their lifeless necks.”
“I’ll be wary, your Majesty, as I have always been. Only a wary and intelligent man wins through to old age, while his enemies die on the long and dangerous way. The medallions are something unforeseen, but never fear, my Mistress, they will be yours, and with them the heads of their Bearers.”
“Today is the day of my triumph! Today is the day I shall conquer this kingdom of Tremia, and with it my destiny!”
Isuzeni gazed at his Mistress alight with this terrible power, at the immense black army behind her, and knew without the shadow of a doubt that they would destroy Rilentor and nobody would survive.
Nobody.
At midmorning, the guards on the wall saw a lone rider on the edge of the forest to the east. He rode up to the wall, crossing the plain of blood. From head to toe he wore the black of the army of darkness, and on his chest was an emblem formed by two crossed swords in bright red. In his right hand he carried a long white banner which fluttered in the wind. The herald stopped his horse in front of the ruined gate and looked up at the battlements.
“Don’t kill him,” Gerart ordered from the top.
The herald bowed his head slowly in salute. When he straightened again, he spoke with a heavy foreign accent:
“I am an emissary of the Supreme Empress Yuzumi, sovereign of all the continent of Toyomi, conqueror of Tremia, Commander in Chief of the invincible Black Army. I bring an important message from my Lady and Mistress.”
“I am Gerart, King of Rogdon. What is the message?”
“The message is not for the monarch of this ruined kingdom,” the herald said with obvious disdain.
Gerart gazed at the herald, half in surprise, half in anger.
“Who is the message for, then?” he inquired more loudly.
“It is for the Marked.”
The whole wall filled with murmurs and questioning looks. Gerart turned to Haradin in surprise, but the Mage simply shrugged.
“I do not know who you are referring to. Who is this Marked?”
“Let the Marked show himself,” the herald said.
Gerart looked around. The five Bearers stood on his right, with Hartz, Kayti and Kendas a little further behind. All exchanged glances, but nobody said a word or moved a muscle.
“As you wish,” the herald said. He took a horn out of his saddlebag, put it to his lips and gave a long call. The sound of the horn rang throughout the plain.
In reply, several figures dressed in black, began to appear from among the trees. At first just a few, then little by little the whole plain filled with lines of soldiers in black, dotted with intense red. In the blink of an eye the unfathomable army of the Dark Lady took up their positions before the battered walls of Rilentor. There were more than fifty thousand of them with their polished black laminated armor, carrying swords and spears whose long red standards fluttered in the gentle morning breeze. The army of death stopped and awaited instructions.
“We are not enemies,” Gerart said in an attempt at negotiation. “There is no need for confrontation. We can come to an agreement.”
But the herald ignored him. He waved his hand at the hosts behind him.
“Marked, show yourself, or else nobody will be left alive in this city.”
Gerart was about to speak, but Komir stepped forward and leaned over the parapet.
“Here I am. I am the Marked.”
A murmur broke out among the defenders. In a few moments it gathered strength until at last it was a loud roaring from hundreds of throats.
The herald acknowledged Komir with a nod.
“My Mistress, the Supreme Empress Yuzumi, offers you the opportunity to save the city and all who shelter in it. If you hand yourself over without opposition, the city will be spared.”
“And if I don’t?” Komir asked, his voice firm.
“In that case you shall all die. The Supreme Empress will destroy the city with her glorious army and will order the hearts of each and every one found in it to be torn out: men, women, and children, without exception. Nobody shall survive. That is the will of the Empress, and it shall be carried out to the letter.”
A tense silence followed the herald’s words.
Aliana was the first to break the silence. “You can’t turn yourself in!”
“Of course he’s not turning himself in! No way!” thundered Hartz, stepping forward.
Gerart and Haradin went to Komir’s side. In a low voice the young monarch asked him:
“Do you know why she asks for you? What does she want of you?”
“She wants me dead,” Komir said in a firmer voice than he himself expected.
“Why?”
“Our destinies are j
oined. She’s been seeking my death for a long time. She was responsible for the death of my parents. Now I know that. She won’t stop until she sees me dead. One of us must die here today. That’s our destiny, to confront each other. So it has been foretold.”
“But if you turn yourself in she’ll kill you at once,” Haradin said, his face creased in worry. “You’ll be handing her destiny to her on a tray.”
“I know, but I have no choice. You heard, she’ll kill us all, and you’ve seen the power of her army: we have no chance against a host like that.”
“If they attack us,” Gerart said, “we’ll fight as we’ve been doing until now, with honor, with courage.”
“I know that, and it’s exactly what I don’t want.”
Hartz seized Komir’s arms and held them. “I won’t let you!”
“Don’t you see it, big guy? If we fight, we all die, and all these deaths will be on my conscience. I can’t allow that!
“We came with you of our own free will,” Aliana said with tears in her eyes. “We followed you because we wanted to, because we believed in your cause. It’s not your responsibility, Komir.”
The Norriel shook his head.
“No, I won’t repeat my past mistakes. And I won’t put you in danger again because of my selfishness. This isn’t your business. It’s my destiny, my war, and you won’t die for it.”
“What guarantees do we have that she’ll keep her word?” Gerart said. “I don’t like the idea of sending you off to certain death without any guarantee.”
“Your sacrifice might very well be in vain, Komir,” Haradin said.
“Even so, I’ll take the risk. The alternative isn’t acceptable to me. I’ll die like a Norriel, before my people.” He gazed at the city behind him where the survivors were sheltering.
Gerart weighed the situation for a moment and finally spoke: “The decision is yours. We shan’t stop you,”
Komir knew the situation was desperate. They could not afford to run the risk. Too many lives were at stake.
“I won’t let you do this!” Hartz said.
Komir put his hands on the big man’s shoulders and looked into his eyes.
“Nobody could wish for a better friend, nobody will ever have a better comrade. Our path ends here, my friend, it’s time to part. You know in that great heart of yours that this is the right thing to do, otherwise I couldn’t live with the guilt. You know that.”
Hartz tried to resist. “No…”
“You know. Listen to your heart. I have to go, and you have to let me go.”
Hartz shook his head, and Komir saw tears running down the big Norriel’s cheeks as he made an effort not to weep aloud. Komir hugged him and whispered in his ear:
“Norriel we are, and Norriel we shall die.”
Hartz nodded several times, swallowing his pain. Komir turned and gazed at the woman he loved.
“You can’t do it!” Aliana cried between sobs. “They’ll kill you!”
Komir walked over to her and looked into her eyes, filling with tears. He held her pale, beautiful face in his hands. Then he kissed her forehead tenderly, and she wept.
“Take care of the big guy,” he told her.
The rest of the group watched him with moist eyes, trying to keep their composure. Komir glanced at each of them as though giving them a last individual parting salute. Then he leaned over the parapet.
“I’m handing myself over!” he said to the herald in a firm voice which left no room for doubt.
The messenger smiled in triumph and gestured to him to come down.
As he went down the stairs, Komir felt in his soul that he had made the right decision. Nobody would die through any fault of his. He passed the Norriel warriors, who watched him in silence, and when he reached the great fallen gate he nodded in greeting to Auburu and Gudin, who looked worried. The matriarch of his tribe went to speak to him, but Komir stopped her with a gesture. He knew they were with him, but he would not drag them to their death. He shook his head, and Auburu understood the unspoken message. The matriarch bowed her head and nodded.
Komir stepped out to meet the herald, leaving behind him an uneasy silence.
“Follow me, Marked. The all-powerful Empress Yuzumi awaits you.”
Komir began to walk after the herald.
The enemy hosts awaited him ahead.
Death awaited him.
With determination and without fear he walked on, leaving the walls of Rilentor behind.
He would fulfill his destiny, fearlessly.
Suddenly a voice thundered behind him.
“If he goes, I’m coming too.”
Komir turned and saw his giant friend striding towards him.
The herald glanced at him and smiled in amusement.
“And so am I,” another voice said. Aliana came out of the gate with firm steps.
Iruki, Asti and Sonea came out together behind Aliana. “And so are we,”
Tears sprang up in Komir’s eyes at his comrades’ heroic gesture. He wanted to shout to them to go back to the wall, but he was overwhelmed by his feelings and the words would not come out.
The face of the herald darkened. He was not smiling any more.
Kayti appeared behind them, resplendent in her radiant white armor. “And me, because wherever my Hartz goes I go too.”
The herald straightened on his mount.
“If you wish to die, then so be it!” he shouted furiously.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen,” a voice said. Komir turned and saw Haradin coming.
Gudin appeared with all the Norriel warriors behind him.
“We’re not letting one of ours die alone, sacrificing for us. You’re a Norriel, a bear, and we’ll die with you. Norriel we are, and Norriel we shall die!”
“Norriel we are, and Norriel we shall die!” cried Hartz.
The four thousand Norriel answered the cry:
“Norriel we are, and Norriel we shall die!”
The herald spat on the ground.
“As you wish,” he said. “You will all die!”
He spurred his horse back toward the black army.
Komir relaxed and looked proudly at his own people. He could not believe what they had just done. For the first time ever he felt a full Norriel. All he had ever wished for had come true: to be accepted and respected by the Norriel, as one of their own.
Heroic Combat
For hours nothing happened. A strange, tense silence fell on the plain. Komir watched the enemy army from the gate of the battered outer wall of the city. They were not moving, perfectly lined up, keeping silent, with their standards blowing in the wind. A mute wind, which brought no sound either of beasts or men, as if something evil had devoured any echo of life. The scene was so gloomy that Komir felt a chill run down his spine. He shook it off. Beside him the Bearers watched the scene, as restless as he was himself. He could feel the fear his companions felt, a natural and human fear. But he could feel something else too: the courage of their pure and noble hearts. He eyed them carefully: Aliana, brave and compassionate; Iruki, wild and untamable; Sonea, daring and intelligent; Asti, delicate but determined. The four were women of incomparable worth. The medallions had chosen their bearers well, at least as far as they were concerned. As for himself, Komir still had to prove it, and prove it he would. He would not fail them under any circumstance: not them, not his own people.
“What are those swine waiting for?” Iruki said in frustration.
Sonea bent her head to one side as she counted the enemy hosts. “As long as they don’t attack, there’s some hope for us. Time is on our side.”
“Me no like,” protested Asti, expressing the general feeling.
“Let’s keep calm,” Aliana said. “Everything’s not lost. As long as we’re together and united, there’s hope.”
Although they all wanted to believe the Healer’s words, the truth was too dramatic and brutal. Before them was the pitiless black army, an uncountable host. Beh
ind them was the ruined capital of the Kingdom. They were standing on a half-collapsed wall which barely remained upright. But Komir was aware that among the rubble of the city and in the Royal Castle thousands of innocent refugees were sheltering, and those refugees depended on them if they were to stay alive. If they failed, those people would all die, which was something Komir did not even want to imagine.
Unconsciously he looked for Aliana’s gaze, and met it. The Healer returned his glance, full of hope and with a faint smile to let him know everything was all right, that she was there beside him and that together they would face the impossible. Komir’s heart breathed a little more easily.
The war drums began to roll. The dreadful sound of death signaled the prelude to the tragedy as the black army started its advance. Komir’s heart sank. The enemy hosts were immense; thousands and thousands of men, bearers of absolute death and desolation, just as Amtoko had warned him. They formed a black ocean of pain and suffering, and their pestilent waters would engulf all in torment. Komir sighed and recalled the words of the Silver Witch: he must stay firm, no matter how desperate the situation might appear. He breathed out and said:
“I’ll fight to my last breath, firm as a cliff that the sea tries to defeat.”
The Bearers heard him and turned.
“And we’ll stand with you,” Aliana said.
Komir nodded and put his hand to his heart in appreciation of the gesture.
Haradin, Gerart, and Master Gudin came up to them, and together they watched the advance of the enemy troops, in perfect formation.
“Shall we withdraw to the Castle?” Gerart asked the Mage. “The fortress wall is almost as bad as this, but it’s smaller and easier to defend.”
Haradin meditated his answer for a moment. He watched the invading army, then the Bearers, and finally came to a decision.
“We’ll fight here. This will be a battle of magic. The clearer land we have, the greater our advantage. Besides, there are thousands of refugees hiding among the rubble, and if I unleash my power from the castle wall it will reach them too. I don’t want innocent victims. No, we’ll fight here. Here is where we’ll defeat the enemy.”