Chronicles of Galadria III_Lessons

by David Gay-Perret

  “After what you did, there no longer seems to be any direct source of risk. However, the people who live here will ask questions. It will be up to their leader to explain, and up to them to decide what they want to do. The rest of it doesn’t concern us.” The boy nodded then. “Never forget that,” Glaide thought to himself. “You can get involved in the lives of others, but only to a certain degree. It is not up to you to decide their futures, but to simply help them in the present, so that they can construct a future for themselves. Will it be the same for Galadria itself? Am I really meant to get rid of Baras to preserve the present, then leave it to the people to build their own future?” The idea seemed incongruous to him, because from it, he saw everything as if he was a stranger in it all. But in the end, wasn’t that more or less what he was? Did he want to remain a stranger, though? Or, perhaps the better question, could he one day become something else?

  “Everyone’s story has an end, but do I wait for mine with impatience? Or do I fear it?” he murmured, before gazing up and becoming lost in the stars above.

  Chapter 27

  “ORTE-FELDIR,” thought Glaide. “So that’s what they call this village.” He and his master had taken advantage of the inhabitants’ hospitality for the night. Comfortable rooms had been prepared for them, and they’d been offered a copious breakfast. Then, the leader had offered them each a leather belt, the specialty of the village, and a product that they sold to other villages in the area. On the surface of the adolescent’s, the words “To Glaide, protector of Orte-Feldir. Let his name always be celebrated,” had been burnt into the surface. The older man had been thanked as well. His belt said, “To Kezthrem, savior of a life. May the injured man one day be able to repay that debt.” The boy had been thrilled with the gift, and had immediately put it on. His outfit now looked a bit strange, because when he made his sword appear, it appeared along with two belts! However, he didn’t care, because both belts were important to him. Kezthrem, on the other hand, had removed his older belt, to replace it with the new one. Then, the two had continued on their way.

  Though he’d pushed it to the back of his mind during the previous day’s events, Glaide realized that that day would be the last one before they had to travel in the area around Zakorth. He decided then to make the most of this last day of calm, because the next could be much more frightening. And it wasn’t the monsters he feared. No, what scared him was the wild ride they had planned! It would certainly take several hours, and if he did come across some hostile creatures, that would just make it that much worse. The young man shook his head to chase away those thoughts then, to distract himself, asked his master where he thought the name Orte-Feldir might have come from.

  “The words come from the dwarfish language,” Kezthrem replied without a pause. “I don’t know what they mean, but I think it has to do with those ancient caverns and tunnels that you condemned. The leader of the village probably knew more on the subject, but I’m astonished that the villagers never realized their village’s name didn’t have human origins.”

  “How could they have guessed that? They followed their healer who knew the place. He must have told them the name, and they never asked any questions. I didn’t realize the name was dwarfish, either!”

  “Most—maybe even all—names that are compounds marked with a hyphen come from the dwarfish language. Here is an example, and Oclin-Fer is another.”

  “I see,” said the adolescent with a nod. He spent the rest of the morning thinking about everything he’d done, and especially on how, even after spending eight months on Galadria, he was still incapable of truly comprehending everything that had happened. That was something that had helped him in the beginning, because he and his friends had traveled to Shinozuka without understanding the danger they were in. If the circumstances had been different, perhaps they wouldn’t have set off like that, and they wouldn’t have met the king until later, and then who knows what would have happened? But that had been risky, too. His reactions and his ideas when faced with unusual events, such as what had happened the evening before in the village, were done more or less thoughtlessly. He wasn’t truly aware of the potential consequences.

  The master and his disciple stopped shortly after noon to have lunch. Once the meal was finished, however, Glaide chose to set out on foot. He held his horse’s reins and fell into step beside Kezthrem’s horse. He began to contemplate how little he actually knew about Zakorth. His master had only told him not to approach that place, and their encounter with the orks and trolls had simply reinforced those words. However, the adolescent wanted to know more.

  “Master, you spoke to me at great length about Vlatendire, its history, and its architecture. You’ve also told me many things about Ojilon, Shinozuka, and other places, but you’ve been almost entirely silent about Zakorth. I know that it’s a dangerous place, but if you tell me more about it, perhaps I can better understand how it came to be like that.”

  “You’re right,” Kezthrem replied with a sigh. He didn’t seem particularly thrilled by the subject, but he continued, “From a historical point of view, the village has been there for a very long time. In Novak’s time, it was about the size of Shinozuka, so that Dzen even called them sister cities in his writings. If you went there, you would see the same mixture of buildings that you saw in Vlatendire, and that Shinozuka had before the earthquakes and fires. Zakorth was a well-known and celebrated place. Unfortunately, the city began to take on a bad reputation during that time. I don’t know if you noticed it when we traveled by, but the city is in a very bad geographical location. There is nothing around but empty plains. Whereas Rackk and Adrish were installed near the edge of the Known Lands, where there are fewer monsters, Zakorth was in the very middle. It was one of the first cities to fall to Baras.”

  “One of the first, master?” asked Glaide, not sure he’d understood correctly.

  “Yes,” agreed the man. “But it’s also the only one that still exists today, though that isn’t a good thing, either. Five hundred years ago, there were more cities, and the roads weren’t as deserted as they are today. When we compare the war we’re waging now with that of Dzen, it seems much more desperate, because the humans are so much more alone after the actions the necromancer took back then.”

  “Right, Koeris explained to me that he incited the other peoples to live as recluses, as if he knew Baras would return, and he wanted to make everything easier for him when the time came.” Kezthrem nodded at Glaide’s words.

  “Glaide, when Dzen decided to stop our enemy, you must realize that everything around him was falling apart. Hardly a day would pass by without a village being destroyed, and we were constantly hearing of dwarves and elves joining the ranks of our adversaries. Galadria was falling into chaos. That must be hard for you to picture, because you’ve come from another world, but, you see, the people of that time were watching their future disappear before their very eyes.”

  “And then, to a certain extent, and despite the victory of your ancestor, the situation continued to worsen, though less obviously, until finally a new era arrived without anyone even noticing.”

  “Yes, that deterioration never stopped, though people thought it had, and think even today that it has. Dzen’s victory simply slowed the process until our own time, where it is now again speeding up, and threatening to destroy all of humanity.”

  “So my job is to finish what Dzen started.” Though the conclusion he came to was logical, it surprised the adolescent, almost stopping him in his tracks. “I thought I was here to repeat the accomplishments of the first Destroyer,” he murmured. “A bit like a prophecy that comes true every half of a millennia. But in reality, I have to not just destroy Baras, but reorganize the entire world. I have to stop the decay that began during Novak’s time, now, five hundred years after it began. However, with that in mind, doesn’t the ‘Destroyer’ simply designate the person who kills the brother of Aras? Because that’s the only thing Dzen and I seem to have in common.”
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  “Perhaps,” replied his master. “But at the very least, you can make use of all the meaning the Destroyer has for the people. That’s probably the greatest source of strength that you have. And who knows whether, in the end, my ancestor might not have existed for any reason but to give the term its value and so help you to a definitive victory?” That reasoning was more than the boy could understand, however. To imagine such logic behind the events of five hundred years was beyond human comprehension. “However, that’s exactly what the necromancers do,” he thought.

  “Anyway,” continued Kezthrem, “Zakorth was the first city to fall, and after Baras’ disappearance, it was erased from the maps so that it no longer exists, at least officially. Like so many other things, we began to forget it, but the orks, corrupt dwarves, dark elves, and villainous barbarians, all doomed by their own choices, gathered there. The king during that time should have ordered the destruction of the place, but no one wanted to launch back into the war, and they hoped the problem would disappear by itself. That was a grave error, however, and today it’s the stronghold of our adversaries. We don’t know where Baras resides, but it’s certain that all of the information our enemies have can be found there, in Zakorth. It is there that the arrival of you and your friends must have been announced to them. Everything Baras knows, he shares with the inhabitants of Zakorth.”

  “If only we could spy on them,” murmured Glaide.

  “Don’t even think about it!” exclaimed Kezthrem. “There, you would find only death, slavery, and more horrors than you could ever imagine. Elves are experts in many areas, and torture is one of them. They can have a tendency toward the sadistic, and the dark elves have taken that side of them and run with it, while the barbarians take joy in testing out the sharpness of their blades on any victims they find, and the dwarves...”

  “Stop!” the adolescent choked out. “Stop, I get it.”

  “Do you?” asked the man with a dark smile.

  “Yes, I understand, and I won’t go there.”

  Kezthrem laughed at that, while his disciple tried his best to erase the images that he now had of that place.

  Chapter 28

  NIGHT fell, and the two travelers stopped. Glaide had not mounted his horse again that day, and he was exhausted. His master informed him that he could sleep as long as he wanted, because they should travel through the plains around Zakorth in the brightest part of the day. They would start off on foot, until they were sure they were within the territory of Zakorth. They would continue until they saw traces of battle, ruins, or even bodies. Kezthrem didn’t doubt that the signs would be there, though his disciple hoped they wouldn’t see any.

  Then, they would have to ride much faster to escape that cursed village’s zone of influence, all while still doing their best to economize their horse’s strength, in case they had to suddenly flee, to escape assailants. They would continue like that until they found signs of life, or until their horses collapsed from exhaustion.

  This was the part of the plan that worried the young man, and he preferred to change the topic to the fact that he still didn’t really know how to ride. The older man waved his comments away with his hand, however. In his opinion, all the adolescent would need to do was hang on and let his horse do the rest. Glaide grumbled his discontent, but said nothing more. With their strategy planned and their supper eaten, they settled in for the night. They had pulled a fallen tree over to use as a bench, and had been sitting there facing the fire. Kezthrem was sitting on the trunk, turned toward his disciple, who was sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the log. The latter decided to put aside his worries about the next day, and instead spoke of another matter that had been on his mind throughout their travels that day.

  “Master, after we left Orte-Feldir, I thought for a long time, and I came to a realization. It’s easier to be a hero when you don’t understand the seriousness of what you’re doing.” Kezthrem raised one eyebrow in question.

  “Really? And how did you arrive at that conclusion?”

  “Well, a little after we arrived at Rackk, my friends and I saw them fight off an attack. There were orks—about a dozen, if I remember right. The soldiers were already exhausted by then, and the purpose of the suicide attack had simply been to keep them from being able to relax. Jeremy and I decided to lend a hand, and before the gates were closed, we went out to meet our enemies in battle. I remember that I wanted to avenge the guardian, but I also wanted to see what I was capable of. However, in the moment when we came to blows with them, I felt fear suddenly invade my senses. Seeing those creatures so close, it took me only seconds to realize just what I was up against. Finally, the battle came to an end, only because the militia saved us, but for them, we were the heroes.”

  “Because they saw you try to help them, even though you barely knew how to fight, and there were so few of you. The line between courage and lunacy is a very fine one.”

  “True, but today, it wouldn’t happen the same way, because I don’t see things the same way. Now, when I think back on all of that, I have to admit that at the time, it all just seemed like a game, like an act in a play. I wanted to train, and fight, but death didn’t really mean anything to me. Not my own, nor that of my enemies.”

  “Do you think that’s changing?” The adolescent sighed at the question.

  “I thought so,” he murmured. “Up until I helped the village.”

  “Your aid was efficient. There was nothing stupid or crazy in what you did.”

  “In what I did, perhaps not, but in what I thought and intended...” The man made no reply, letting his disciple find the words to explain what he meant. Finally, he continued, “Again, constructing the wall, requisitioning and organizing the villagers... It seemed like a game, without consequences. I knew that all that was necessary for my plan to fail was for the goblins to come into the room while we were blocking the tunnel. But it was like I didn’t really understand what a tragic result a defeat would have had. It was just a rule of the game, a part of it, like we were playing hide-and-seek. It wasn’t until I thought that the injured man, Fordel, was dead, that I saw the reality of it all, and it filled me with horror. I had thought I was starting to understand that this world is real, but now, I have to ask myself if that’s truly the case.”

  Kezthrem nodded then, his face serious. He seemed to feel the distress of his student deeply. Glaide felt relieved to have been able to talk about it. For months, he’d thought that was something that didn’t really matter, but as he began to understand that that mindset could lead him to make choices with catastrophic consequences, it made him fear and doubt himself. He was frightened by the idea of committing some terrible error without meaning to, simply because he thought it was worth a try, and if it failed, oh well...

  “Glaide,” began Kezthrem then, his voice low. “What you did in Orte-Feldir was an incredible success. I can’t say if anyone should have taken the risks that you did, but the result speaks for itself: you did, in fact, save those people.”

  “But it could have gone very differently.”

  “That’s possible, but you are who you are, and as I’ve said before, an entire lifetime wouldn’t be enough for you to become a true inhabitant of the Known Lands, just like those who’ve lived here from birth. You can learn about our history, come to know everything about magic, go everywhere... You can do all of that, but you will always remain different, at least in your heart.”

  “Do you mean I’ll never feel at home here?”

  “You can feel at home wherever you want, and you’ll have a place here, that is certain, but you’ll never be able to change yourself into someone else. What’s happened to you appears incredible to you, and if this place is really what you’ve dreamed of, then those things will remain incredible to you to the end of your life.” Silence fell then. Glaide felt both despair and joy fighting within his heart. Knowing that he could live here for a long time made him happy, but always remaining an outsider—someone diffe
rent, alien—made him think that he would never really be able to enjoy this new life. “What if it is because I can’t change myself, because I can’t see Galadria through eyes different from my own, because this world looks—and will always look—extraordinary to me, that I’ll be able to live here until the end of my days without wishing for something else?” he asked. “Is that what my dream really is?”

  “Whatever the case,” continued Kezthrem softly, “if you do have to accept that it will be like that, then you simply have to force yourself to view this world as filled with lives that you can’t sacrifice carelessly.” After a pause, he continued, “If you come to live for this world, so that it is no longer a dream turned into reality, but reality itself, only then will you be able bear the true weight of your choices. And this new life will become what you always dreamed of: real, but still incredible.” The master and his disciple sat in silence for a long time after that. Eventually, Glaide broke the silence, his gaze fixed on the ground.

  “I’ve also been thinking about what you said about Zakorth, and even more about Dzen, the necromancer, and the Destroyer.” He fixed his eyes on Kezthrem then. “Master, besides just feeling permanently separated from reality, I sometimes feel lost. I know what I’m supposed to do in the months to come, but will the plans I’ve made really take me where I need to go? Tell me, what am I supposed to do? What is the goal of the Destroyer?”

  The adolescent never stopped asking himself that question. Was he just supposed to destroy Baras? Or was he meant to get this world back on its feet? Perhaps being the Destroyer wasn’t about any of that at all. Kezthrem’s ancestor had fought the god of the orks and other evil creatures and had brought victory, but an ephemeral form of victory. Was that the destiny of the young man, too? Was he nothing more than a temporary savior? He couldn’t accept that. If he changed things, those changes should last. Kezthrem thought for a moment before replying.