The Dark Season Saga- the Final Harvest

by Yehya H Safwat

  “What prevents them from just storming the Dungeon of Bore and freeing their chiefs?” said the Pateran Zodo. “Outside Borg, and not far from here, two thousands of my fiercest Patera warriors eagerly wait for a chance to crush your Neligans. I bet many here will give similar support.”

  “Do you think we are so foolish as to risk the most valuable prisoners we ever caught without insurance? We know we cannot send an army to protect them in Eredia. But, please, take a look outside and see for yourself whom you would cross to reach them.” Responded Anarca haughtily.

  The Pateran chief stood and walked to the far the window. Iden Supremus, staring up at the tower, repaid the gaze.

  I was impressed, I must admit. The plan was flawless. Whatever their real intentions were regarding Azurus and Thord, they made sure that the Eredia would protect them. Iden Supremus’s presence ensured that bold actions like what the Zodo proposed would never happen.

  The Pateran chief stared at the Eredian commander below and said nothing.

  Anarca turned to ask Aeron and Vikar decisively. “Now, what will be your final answer?" He glanced toward Valadas and seemed to be amused by the latter’s stony expression. Staring at the scroll case on the table, the knight’s features were undecipherable.

  "We will not linger and listen to this nonsense," cried Ikandus angrily. “Give us the body of Akavi, or ...”

  “Or what?” challenged Anarca.

  Szene interfered. “The corpse of Helgar’s cousin is not worth an alliance older than the Trodons. If you accept the deal, Helgon and Eredia will clash. Weigh your actions well, master dwarf.”

  Anarca smiled. “Yesterday, Eredia took one step further from its alliance, and today the elves will do the same thing. And you better consult the dwarfs themselves on such a matter; the body of the last Trodon is more valuable than you might think.”

  Szene turned to the silent dwarf. “Are you willing to break all ties with your allies for the corpse of one dead Trodon, even if he was Akavi the Indomitable? The elves would never break their alliance, and we do not believe that Eredia ever did. Not the land of the Dargos.”

  Ikandus remained silent for a moment and then he turned to Anarca. The latter pointed to the scroll case. "Here, you can read and feast your eyes on Eredia’s submission.” He glanced at Valadas and corrected, “Or rather, Eredia’s cooperation. Meanwhile, let us enjoy the performance.”

  He went to the window and pushed it open, then waved to the event host. They heard the latter announcing the next slave. “Prepare yourselves for the grand finale; a very special slave is coming up!”

  The silver-haired man raised his eyes towards Anarca, his silver hair parted slightly, and I saw that it was Agathorn.

  Instantly I guessed who the nervous guest up on the roof was. The latter completely removed his hood to examine the silver-haired man more effectively, and my guess was confirmed: Aidus.

  The trap door opened, and the Night Dwarf turned toward Anarca, who still stood by the tower window. He waited for Anarca’s orders.

  “Did you think of an answer?” Anarca asked calmly again. “Last chance… what say you? Should we pull your champions up onto the stage? Should we disgrace your legend?”

  Then, for the first time the Serador, spoke, addressing Aeron. With a firm voice as calm as his desert, he said, “They think we are here to negotiate.”

  Aeron replied. “What they do not know is that we gave our answer long before we came. But not to them.” Aeron added as he gazed toward the sea below, to the murky waves of the Emerald Shore.

  Concerned, Edwin exchanged glances with Ginto, and was about to say something when he was interrupted by the host below.

  “Before we present to you the last two slaves on today’s list, please all welcome the Head of the second Tower of Cane, Gazateer the Undying.”

  Silence reigned. Even in the meeting room, the guests, one by one, peeked from the windows to watch.

  The young wizard, who was supposedly in his late sixties, appeared beside the stage then gracefully climbed the few stairs. As the event came to a halt, the event host gave the wizard his spot on the stage and fell back. I could tell from the way he stood that Gazateer clenched his fists behind his back. Agathorn slowly walked toward the stage. As Gazateer took over the role of the event host, he glanced to something in the back of the half pavilion.

  To Supremus.

  The Eredian commander squeezed his sword hilt and slowly walked toward the stage. He gazed firmly at Gazateer and shook his head. It was a refusal: don’t step in front of me, Gazateer.

  Up in the tower room, the Ikandus turned to Aeron, then to the crate, confusion in his eyes.

  “The elves of Karelya will abandon you, like Eredia did,” said Anarca. “Even the Iganerian Spirits which they take their wisdom from have left our world. The writers of the Erante stopped filling their legendary chronicles. Isn’t that true my dear Elf?” The bewildered gathering fixed their eyes on the elf. “You want to know why the Bolaghast stopped whispering in their ears? Watch.” And he pointed to the stage below.

  Agathorn stood up and walked to the stage.

  Szene stepped toward the scroll case on the table, only to be startled by Dratos, who stood in her way. She turned to Anarca, who nodded to the Half-Goshae.

  Silence reigned over the event below in the square. As if nature itself held her breath to watch the scene, the storm hushed, and the sea fell to stillness. The cloaked figures followed Agathorn to the stage. I looked at the roof and saw Aidus slip out the exit.

  It was almost midnight, and in the sea, the raft drifted in the calm empty space between the ships, the cloaked Weavers standing on it. They gathered around a strange-looking, ancient Sedai of a peculiar make. A figure sat by the instrument, getting ready to play.

  Up in the tower room, Szene opened the scroll case. My heart pounded.

  “There is nothing here,” said the Tethian with relief. “The Chain of Cas lies.”

  Anarca was clearly stung, turning to the Tethian woman.

  Many guests expressed the same yet subtle relief and some smiles briefly dared to appear on faces. Few stood up and aimed for the door.

  “ What! ” Shrieked Edwin, hurrying forward. He snatched the scroll case from the Tethian and opened it, bewildered. Ginto was shivering and terrified, like a rat who barely escaped drowning in the trench.

  Both turned to Anarca, who was motionless and in deep focused thought. He looked to Vikar who stood by the pit and then looked to Aeron near the window, opening it. The sound of the event below poured into the room.

  Anarca turned to Valadas only to see that the Grand Dargos was not angered by all he’d just heard or seen; instead, he was smiling. The evocke closed the gray eyes under his furrowed brows as he calculated something, then he whispered to himself, “The un-dealt card,” then he looked directly… to my direction.

  He turned to Dratos and roared, “The Genn. He took the scroll. INFORM XOLIS… FIND HIM!”

  Damn, I stayed too long, I realized . I crawled on the ledge circling the tower. Doing my best to avoid the Half-Goshae’s scanning eyes as he crashed out of the window overlooking the roof, I lurked between two windows facing the opposite side. As he dropped out the window in that bizarre dress, his hands turned to dark wings. He glided above the roof for a moment before he landed by the baluster. He quickly scanned the pavilion then turned to enter the mansion.

  He didn’t know, I thought. Anarca didn’t know that I had taken the scroll and left the case empty. Gazateer’s plan worked.

  The wind blew intensely and carried a ghastly whisper... a name; Casmodath .

  At the stage, I saw the six cloaked men dropping their caps. A few of the fiercest Vemast surrounded Agathorn atop the stage, the remaining six of the Seven Captains, Azurus’s peers. Agathorn bent a knee, caressing the trap door with bitterness. Then he stood up, removed his hood, and watched countless eyes staring back at him.

  Gazateer calmly turned to the throng in th
e pavilion, announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, Agathorn, the Tempest.”

  A buzz issued from the audience as they identified the elf. Gazateer put his hands on Agathorn’s shoulder as if comforting him in a silent condolence. Agathorn repaid him with a dismal smile.

  The audience stared at the iconic figures standing on the stage, figures they’d forgotten existed. A few had hostile reactions; some Hectyans and some famous mercenaries of the savage lands of Talor, approaching the stage menacingly. Yet they dared not engage the Brave Elder, and when the Elders showed their silver bows, the aggressors jumped for cover.

  With another look into the tower room, I saw the situation there evolving. Edwin muttered, “They tricked us. We invited all our enemies to our door.”

  Valadas unsheathed his sword. “I should thank you,” he said. “You’ve united us.”

  He ran toward the pit and turned his back to it. The thirty Neligans drew their weapons and stepped towards the Grand Dargos. Vikar leaped on the pit’s baluster behind the knight and dived in, shocking us all.

  Aeron jumped in the air, landing on the crate above the terrible hole and loosened the chain. Then he called for the dwarf to join. With Valadas’s presence by the pit, which was preventing the Neligans from instantly jumping the elf, the dwarf was able to join. Then Aeron let go of the chain and fell with the dwarf and the crate into the pit, following the barbarian, to the Dungeon of Bore.

  What the hell are they thinking? How can anyone sane willingly go into the nightmare of the Dungeon of Bore? They will perish with their kin whom they are trying to rescue.

  A universally beautiful sad tune started to echo from the sea.

  The Duke… he started playing Anguish.

  A thrilling rush of excitement ran through my body like never before.

  “GO AFTER THEM!” Edwin cried to the Neligans as they closed on the pit. A few of his allies rose to their aid.

  Outside, Yoldes, the White Owl spoke as it hovered beside me, “Today a story will be woven. Today the last symphony will be played.”

  The dark melody playing from the sea thundered in anger as the storm reinvigorated anew.

  A few more butterflies flapped their wings and glided on the strong wind which started to pick up more strength. I reached with my hands to one of them but when I caught it in my fingers I realized it was just a floating piece of paper. The material of the parchment was exotic and with the little focus I could muster in that crazy moment I realized that it was a parchment of Shagoth. The fabrics of the vampire coffins felt true to my hands and the red dots and strips which naturally stained it were clear evidence. It had been hundreds of years since I’d seen the coffins of these extinct creatures. Nothing could destroy the scrolls of Shagoth, not the rain, not the wind not even the edge of an axe. Yet nothing was written on it and I knew why. The event that would trigger the appearance of the sequestered writings hadn’t occurred yet.

  When I looked below, I saw hooded figures with dark cloaks infiltrate the audience below and enter the mansion. Gray vapor outlined their blurry frames and light grayish swirls flowed from under their hoods.

  Yes… find me, my kin.

  Yoppa and Yarpus nearly unsheathed themselves in my hands.

  Hush now, Whispers of Vaud, for the storm is roaring .

  Anarca sounded from the window, “Stay clear of the performer.” Then he gave Agathorn below his full attention. “If we failed to separate Eredia from the pact, we will separate the Elves. Go ahead Agathorn, unleash your vengeance. Show us what the Bolaghast was ashamed to say. Untie the elves… free them from all pacts and promises.”

  Edwin knew that Agathorn’s wrath would pour on him first. “So this is your plan. You are sacrificing me and my city to fuel your war?”

  “You have the chance to serve the Chain of Cas better than you dream of. You will be rewarded.” Responded Anarca with the little attention he could spare the trembling governor.

  “The Heart of Igna would never harm innocent humans,” said the Tamosian ambassador.

  “Those humans had the nerve to kill his youngest son and kidnap his eldest and then send him an invitation to negotiate?” exclaimed Szene, addressing the Tamosian. “Who knows how he will act? Do know how would you act if you were in his shoes?”

  The Tamosian gazed at the scene below with nothing to say.

  “Of course he will avenge his sons. The Tempest doesn’t distinguish friend or foe; it doesn’t recognize innocence and treachery,” added the Pateran Zodo. “The day has come when the Order of Eon destroys itself.”

  Silence fell upon the entire square below. Supremus stopped by the stage as he waited for his friends’ move.

  His words bellowed in the rainy storm, “Agathorn! Make your captains lower their weapons. Do not do something that would threaten an Eredian city. We all mourn your loss, my brother; do not force me into regrettable action. Not everyone here has your son’s blood on his hand, and not everyone here deserves vengeance.”

  Ginto stayed by the door, yelling at some of the Neligans present in the room to go and protect the prisoners in the dungeon below. The Dargos on the roof prevented the Neligans from leaving the tower. The few remaining leaders of neutral factions were clueless, watching the Eredian hero defending the pit where Vikar, Aeron, and the dwarf had jumped.

  Edwin stood by the window, gazing at the scene below, and Anarca stood just behind him. The governor seemed more terrified of the elf on the stage than the battle happening in the same room he was in. I could see him tremble.

  In the square, Agathorn silently scanned the audience. He tightened his grip on the ribbon in his hands and looked up to the roof. A thin trail of blaze encircled his eyes as if his eyelids were on fire, and the drawing of the Phoenix smoldered faintly around them. Parchments were floating feverishly in the air, mimicking the turbulent flight of butterflies. Some of the audience started grabbing them, yet they were all empty.

  Edwin started to cast a spell, trying to destroy the butterflies.

  “Let them be, let them spread,” said Anarca. “Whatever Agathorn says, the anger he will unleash, will be immortalized on them. Shagoth promised us that, and the Sea Door is eagerly waiting for this last plea of Talor.”

  “You are sacrificing me! This is why you made sure to stain my hands with the blood of the son of the Tempest” expressed Edwin. He started shaking like an empty husk in a storm as he ruminated on his discovery. He looked at Ginto. “So this is just what the Tethian said: a declaration of war. And I am its wick.”

  Ginto ignored the governor’s words and asked Anarca, “But what if the Tempest uttered the wrong words?”

  “This is why Aidus is here,” Anarca answered. “He will make sure that Agathorn will do just that. All he has to do is show himself, and then Agathorn’s wrath will be unleashed. Trust me. He has lost two sons and walked away from the Oaken Ring. He is all by himself now.” Then he looked through the open window overlooking the stage and yelled to the Neligan goons and Eredian soldiers, “LET HIM BE. LET THE LAST WORDS OF THE ELVES IN THIS WORLD BE OF VENGEANCE. LET SHAGOTH DELIVER AGATHORN’S REVENGE TO THE FOUR CORNERS OF TALOR! LET HIM PUNISH US ALL.”

  Ginto screeched, “Aidus is gone!”

  “WHAT?” screamed Anarca. He cried “SAN’ADOR”, a secret Word of Power accessible to the head of the Towers of Cane among selected few. He was then teleported dozens of feet above the stage.

  The epic music of the Sedai flowed to the city from the gulf. The Eredian soldiers surrounded the square, presumably on the orders of Supremus. If Agathorn or the Six Captains tried any hostile action, Iden’s soldiers will interfere to protect the city.

  In the tower room, the prayers of the Silver Army of Enigmus echoed and flowed from the tower, uttered by Valadas:

  Fathers in heaven, our children to come,

  Write down our story on the face of the sun;

  Our pains, our gains, our deeds across the lands;

  We will meet you where… the last man stand
s.

  He grabbed a floating paper and gazed at it. Something began appearing on it. Then he turned to the Neligans and his sword clashed with their axes and swords.

  Valadas’s strikes issued the Dargos’s pulses of light, damaging his opponents’ soul harder than it bashed their bones. The light induced a powerful mixture doubt, hesitation and cowardice in his opponents. His sword slashed through hard armor as if it was clay creating glittering cracks that burnt the flesh beneath it. The Neligans’ swordsmanship proved useless before his bastion of valor. Yet their sheer numbers lent them potency as they gradually thwarted his defenses.

  The Tamosian ambassador turned to Dargos Lord. “What are you doing, Dargos? This is madness!” The neutral factions watched as the peerless hero guarded the pit.

  Valadas replied as he repositioned himself in front of his foes. “The life they took from the elves to break us will be the one that unites us. We shall honor Gabriel.”

  “Let him be,” said Kainto.

  Szene and the Pateran Zodo stared at the combat. My guess was that they had thoughts of aiding the Dargos Lord.

  “We cannot take emotional decisions here. We are representatives of our people and our actions will affect millions.” reasoned Kainto. “Let him make his choice.”

  “What about ours?” asked Szene bitterly.

  “Not now, not here. This is a fight we are not part of yet. Will you take the responsibility of bringing it to your home?” replied Kainto.

  They looked towards Valadas, but one by one, they turned and walked to the door. Szene was the last one to leave. “We never doubted Eredia Valadas. We never doubted the Dargos,” she said as she left the room.

  The Sedai tunes reached the stars.

  Anarca bellowed, struggling to be heard against the raging wind as he floated dozens of feet above the pavilion, “I see that you cared not to join your allies up there, Agathorn; too proud to sit with us mere men? Or have made up your mind?” He pointed at the host of people below. “Look around you, Heart of Igna. There is nothing left for you here, Tempest.” Then, with another Word of Power, he shot himself right into the gloomy skies, vanishing behind the gray, slowly-forming clouds.