“Gabriel and Ria,” Aeron said, standing and walking to his cousin. “Your brother is quite a unique elf. How can he find it in his heart? How can anyone fall in love at these times?”
Azurus firmly but with a hint of amusement Commented, “Out of those bleak waves no one would expect to witness such a show of affection.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” commented Aeron, Gabriel and Ria collapsed on the cold, sandy beach. Azurus and Aeron watched as Ria built a small fire on the beach and the young pair warmed themselves.
The two warriors admitted in their hearts that Gabriel was not an ordinary elf. It was Gabriel and his love for Ria that made their journey worth taking and their struggle worth enduring. Whenever Azurus and Aeron returned from a gruesome battle, whenever their backs got bent under the burden of their age, they looked at the young couple with awe. Gabriel and Ria’s mere existence compelled the elves to move along.
Then their keen ears heard the whispers of Gabriel and Ria, and subtly touched their world.
“Are we holding our world together, Gabriel?” she asked him, holding his hands and leaning her head on his shoulder. “Are we really here or did we just last eternally within the memory of our story?”
He kissed her head and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I am here, Ria, and so are you. We are carving our tale deep into the bark of the tree of Talor… deep enough to last forever. In this world or another, my love for you would have existed, and it is around our love that this world was built. So we are not holding it together, we are defining it.”
From behind Azurus and Aeron, atop the moon-lit cliff and from the stiff cold ancient forest, more elves silently arrived.
Turning back to his cousin, Azurus said “I’ve spoken to both of our fathers about our uncle. He is too ambitious for this world, especially since he became the Voice of Igna. He always coveted my father’s powers, and the envy he harnessed in his heart is eating him alive. I know of only one way to treat such men, and the tolerance our fathers gave him was not it.”
Aeron replied, "The speakers of Igna have a duty, and he failed it. He failed the whole world,” Aeron said angrily. “Do you think that he couldn't have at least given some time to the one and only task your father entrusted him with?” Do you know what he did while you roamed the Bracelet?”
Azurus shook his head.
“Not even once did he bother to check on any of the multitudes of beings who acted against their basic nature! Nearly all of the wildlife seems to have given up on this world in one way or another, yet he paid them no attention. It became a common sight in the early hours of the morning: the silent gathering of several animals of different types at the Iganera, looking for his druids to tend to their needs. Now, I can only guess what these druids do, what schemes of his they serve.”
Azurus remained taciturn and then glanced back at the couple of dozen elves that gathered silently behind them. It was there, on that cliff, that the Brave Elders meet before venturing into the darkness of the Goshean Bracelet.
Aeron continued frantically not noticing the Brave Elders’ approach, "Now, the animals produce no offspring. The weather has changed, and unexplainable cold winds blow more frequently. Even the stars above us keep shifting, misleading travelers all over Talor. Pleas from every corner of Talor rained on our temples, asking for guidance and help, and he ignored them all. People say that we have forsaken them, and they are right. “He ended his angry words with a deep sigh, regaining his original resolute disposition.
Aeron noticed the newcomers. He saw the mystical, two-headed eagle sign on their cloaks and chest pieces. Their eyes hid behind masks resembling two eagles touching their beaks together.
Even an elf of such powers and status as Aeron could still stand in awe at the sight of the Brave Elders. The Galad’Vemast's status and task in that terrifying mountain depth would always daunt even the most courageous of the Galad’Era.
Azurus spoke in a low voice as he stood, still with his back to the Galad’Vemast. "Go prepare for the Galadus, cousin, and bring its final arrangement to your father. I will do my best to wrap up this final mission and give my last orders to my captains, and then join Gabriel in the morning. We will bring Karelya back."
Then, he spoke for all to hear, bidding his cousin farewell. "I am heading to the second Eye of Gosh tonight. We need to make necessary preparations if I am to join tomorrow's Galadus, especially since the Night of the Chanting Willow is a few weeks away. I insisted on joining the Galadus as a symbol of the Vemast's support for Gabriel’s right to lead the Temple. It will also show that we approve the Galadus. When we return, I will have a discussion with my father about what you’ve said.” He nodded goodbye and led his men up the rocky ramp. The elevation stretched from the hill closest to the Goshean Bracelet at its farthest eastern end overlooking the Vadian Ocean.
Back to the lovers, Aeron turned. He saw them sleeping on the cold sands, cuddling to keep warm. Beside them were the tracks of an unseen sea creature. He looked around for their source but found none, just managing to catch a glimpse of something disappearing into the dark ocean.
Who else sees you, Gabriel and Ria? Where did your love reach?
The Greatest Talorian Myth
Deep in the eastern glade, where Agathorn had spent most of his time since his return, was a marvelous library, the Library of the Erans. There you could find—among the shelves carved on the rocky bed of the mountain or the scattered erect stones, or on thick tree branches—priceless books, manuals, and folios. It was named after the Erans, the first humans, who perished before SC. Many of the first books nested there belonged to that magnificent extinct race.
Sun rays showered between the high mango trees. The rarer the book was, the more intense the rays falling on it. Different colors shone on different types of manuals, in a pattern that only the druids of Igna could decipher. The most valuable of books radiated with such intensity under those rays that people couldn’t gaze at them for more than a few seconds.
For those not welcomed or permitted in the library, everything was obscured. It was a defensive mechanism common in the land of the elves which dismissed the possibility of anything out of the ordinary being seen in the location.
Deep in the glade was a secret chamber: a part of the library hidden behind the ancient trees and protected by more than just natural cover. It was there that the great Erante, the ancient chronicle, was written across the ages by the mysterious hands of the Writer. It was said that the timeline of the world was learned from the Bolaghast, the Broken Tree of Talor, and scripted in the Erante. Deep within the Iganera, the Bolaghast, the half-buried oak, spoke to the ears of the Erante Writer the happenings of Talor, even things that no mortal had seen.
Some say that the Ignar, the Heart of Igna, sometimes could hear the wisdom of the Bolaghast. The Ignar was a title higher than the Voice of Igna and was given only to Agathorn. The Bolaghast’s words explained the affairs of men to him alone, entrusting him with priceless secrets.
Absentmindedly, Agathorn sat in the glade, holding a closed book between his knees. He watched a Gwenfar, a beautiful purple fish the size of a human palm whose gills issued a faint ringing sound when opened. A small school swam about in the spring with long flowing fins. Deep on the bed of the spring, sparkling objects shone like jewels, objects that kept disappearing and reappearing at a seemingly random pattern. Beside him, a beautiful fawn was grazing peacefully.
Lenar entered the glade and followed his brother’s gaze. “What is wrong with them?”
“These are the last of the Gwenfar fish, the last generation. They told me that they forfeited their lifestyle years ago. They won’t be giving any more offspring” answered Agathorn. “Aidus should have looked into this matter. But again, he was never the druid I thought him to be.”
“It’s not just them who have stopped their reproduction habits,” Lenar said, sitting. “We noticed this behavior from other wildlife in our glades and groves. We didn’t think
that it would reach that deep into our lands, not with the Iganera present. Aidus didn’t pay attention to it, he was, well, occupied with other things. Igna didn't open her heart to him like she did to you. I think you should, since you are back, pick it up from here, maybe? Perhaps your journey had something to do with that?” he asked slyly.
“It had, and to the Order of Eon my findings and yours must go,” simply answered Agathorn with a smile, and without any further details.
Lenar looked away, hesitating.
“I know what happened in Eredia and what happened to its king, so ease yourself,” Agathorn said with his fatherly smile.
Lenar turned his head to the fawn gracefully walking around Agathorn. He commented, “The Marias Gazelle has become more peaceful since your return. Yet there is doubt in her eyes; she is still not as serene as her grandmother used to be before you left."
"The Marias Gazelles are the symbol of peace, mercy, and compassion in the world and in me. Much can trouble them nowadays, more than twenty years ago." Replied Agathorn while caressing the fawn which raised its head, glancing at him before diving back to the fauna she feasted upon. "But I agree with you, something is preventing her from fully accepting my presence"
“Is the Galadus out already?” he asked.
Lenar replied, “Don’t worry brother, Gabriel is in capable hands. Azurus escorted his Brave Elders to the Eyes of Gosh and returned to join the first Galadus, which Gabriel will lead. He will be at an arm’s length from his younger brother at all times.”
“I have my fears, but I will have to rely on the other six captains of the Vemast to watch over the Eyes until Azurus rejoins them,” Agathorn said. He looked back to his book, saying, “I fear not the danger that lurks at arm’s length, Lenar, but that it is in the mists ahead.”
Lenar asked, “Did you think about what the Serador emissary said?”
Agathorn recalled the meeting with the barbarian and the news he brought. The messenger told him that the greatest of the Serador leaders, Thord, a direct descendant of Diamath, had fallen into the hands of the Council of Steel. He was ambushed and captured in the courts of King Zas, the Traitor King of Sidnia. The Serad council of elders gathered that night to make a very important decision. The Evocke of the Chain of Cas offered them a choice: either leave in peace and retreat to the Yeathor Desert with Thord, or, remain to fight on and receive his head in a bag.
“It is a tough call. Thord is the Heir of the Sands, the Serador’s direct link to Tyrus” Agathorn elaborated. “Normally, the Serad tribe don’t even bother to consider threats, and Thord himself would tell them to stay, but now even the Sidnian Kingdom has broken its alliance with the Serad Tribe by giving up Thord. So, the Seradors are currently surrounded by enemies from both sides. Soon Sidnia may give passage to the Tirra Mortus and might even join them. The Million Deaths is the only army that can defeat the Serador, and now the Serador may have to face both enemies. Zuld’s Progeny will swarm out of the Dark Mile to the east of Henya and the Tirra Mortus can easily surround its western border in a single night.
Lenar contributed saying, “It also means the ones the Serador were protecting didn’t want their protection. Quite an impasse. But what is expected of us, exactly? Do they want our consent for their final departure?”
“The Serador council has already reached a decision, in case you didn’t guess yet,” Agathorn said. “But before they put it in motion they had to inform their allies. They had an allegiance once with the Order of Eon under the leadership of Enigmus and his Silver Army. None of them is around, so they came to us, to Karelya. They are waiting for our move.”
“So what will be our move? You know that it is our duty to protect the Glaw Bridge. If the Vile Born crossed it will have its effect on the Calls of Durian. Did you reach any conclusions? Should we prepare replacements for the Serador to protect the bridge and the eastern entrance to civilization?” Lenar asked.
“Something is blurring my vision,” Agathorn answered, and again he sounded distracted. “So much changed during my stay in the Realm of Frost. If the Serador thinks of leaving Talor again, then I am afraid we have to wait for the council of the Order of Eon. Everything is linked, my brother, and we just have to join the dots to see the picture. The Order of Eon needs to be reassembled. If Eredia failed to reassemble it then the Oaken Ring must.”
“By Vadia’s fogs” expressed Lenar with vexation, “I am not able to see the picture”
Seeing the worry on his brother's face, Agathorn added, "I picked up a faint clue in the frozen south that I believe is the tip of an iceberg. It is grand enough to be unnoticed even by us, the elves of the Galad’ Era and the Druids of Igna. That is why we need to put it on the table of the Order of Eon for better council. We need the wisdom of the Seekers and the presence of the Keepers of Time.” He flipped open his book.
“When are you planning to go to them? Bear in mind that you just came a few days ago and they don’t know of your return yet.” Lenar said.
“Tomorrow,” answered Agathorn.
“What are you reading?” asked Lenar, taking a seat up by the small spring that cut through the glade. Without waiting for an answer, he read the cover. The Battle of Mount Eben.
“Did the Serad’s mention of Mount Eben remind you of that tale?” Then the younger elf continued, crossed-arms-on-chest, “They mentioned it before, do you remember? The first time they spoke of them in their correspondences with you was centuries ago.”
“You remember the history well,” Agathorn stated. “You were not more than forty years old when I left with Helgar in the quest for The Talmisid, the Ageless Mallet.”
Agathorn sensed his brother’s confusion and decided to guide him. “It was mentioned to remind us of the things we are capable of. It is the essence of the Serador, my brother, the very core of their belief in Tyrus. The Lord of Wrath teaches them to trust their will more than their facts. It is that belief of theirs that man needs; it is those tales that should return to the memories of the Talorians.”
“So why bring up this mountain now?”
“Like you said, the Serador’s post in the ruins of Henya is not just to fend against the Vile Born. Their position in the Valley of Dust is of utmost importance, it is where the Battle of Mount Eben flared. Their position there is a symbol and beacon.”
“It seems like a fairy tale, if you ask me. I still don’t believe in a story of some mythical army and the monumental battle by the bed of Mount Eben. Doesn’t it puzzle you?”
“Why would it puzzle me?” Agathorn asked, not looking up from his book.
“It’s practically a fiction! We are people of records, and the accredited details are close to none. Why did all the armies of the Black Army, man, beast and monster, flee the battleground? What struck fear in them? They had already won. The men under the command of Enigmus the Unbroken were cornered, and yet this entity spares them? What is the White Wing? How did it destroy the Black Army? And there aren’t real accounts, verified ones, of these stories anyway. Rather peculiar, don’t you think?”
“It is peculiar indeed,” responded Agathorn, looking up.
Aeron entered the library. “The report of the Galadus, Father,” he said. He handed a scroll to Lenar and bowed, taking his leave. Lenar took the report and opened it after sneaking a subtle look toward the inner section of the Library of the Erans, where the Erante was rumored to be written as they spoke. He opened the scroll and started reading it. “What does the Erante say about the White Wing?”
Promptly, Agathorn replied, “The Erante is not an affair of mortals, and not to be trifled with. What was written and is currently being recorded is only for the eyes of the Court of the Sky. As for my opinion, I guess there is more to the fragile stature of men than we grasp. Whether the legend is true or false, the Serador cannot abandon the Valley of dust or Henya. We must not let the Chain of Cas come close to Mount Eben.”
“I can’t believe it!” Lenar said, cutting across his brother. He l
owered the scroll angrily. “Aidus divided the raid against our wishes.”
“And now Azurus is not with Gabriel?” asked Agathorn. He was about to utter another word but something drew his heed from the conversation and turned to face to the inner sanctum of the library.
Lenar nodded but then asked once he noticed his brother’s occupied attention, “What is it, Agathorn? What is drawing your attention from such an urgent matter?”
Agathorn glared inside the secret chamber and the light breeze flowing through the area started to get stronger.
Agathorn asked, “What is the target of the raid?”
“A slave convoy,” answered Lenar. “What is wrong?” he asked again, overwhelmed by curiosity and worry.
The wind gusted harder as Agathorn’s face furrowed in concern and he asked, ignoring his brother’s questions, “Heading to where?”
“Borg,” said Lenar.
Agathorn turned his head to the west, narrowing his eyes.
“What is wrong, my brother? Please tell me,” Lenar asked with great concern.
“The Erante’s Writer, the bookkeeper of history,” answered Agathorn. Lenar’s expression was that of utter shock when Agathorn finished his sentence saying, “He has stopped.”
Igna, Answer Me
Some miles to the southwest, on the banks of Gloor, Azurus, silent and absentminded, led his half of the Galadus south. Thinking deeply, he paused at a tree and stared at the water of Gloor slamming angrily against the rocks of its banks. He listened to the mighty river as his group of the Galad’Era stood beside their awe-striking leader and waited.
Azurus turned to face the north. Gloor stirred even harder.
“Azurus. What is wrong?” asked one of the elves.
“It is Gabriel. Something is wrong. I can feel it.” Azurus replied and started running north.
Many miles to the north along Gloor, the other half of the elven Galadus closed in on a small slave convoy, acting under Gabriel’s command. Swift, silent, and one with nature they moved. The trees were covering them, moving their branches to hide their movement. They obscured the sounds of their approach in the winds. The animals were their eyes and ears.
The Dark Season Saga- the Final Harvest Page 20